Living etc Nov 2007

I like the chair here, but I don’t fancy my chances with that range:

Location Works

I really love this kitchen, in what was clearly never intended to be a kitchen in a Georgian house in London. There is a comfy sofa right there, but I think it’s more a case of a kitchen in the living room than a sofa in the kitchen:

Cook's sofa?

Almost as good as a big squishy armchair, I think I could make do with a Windsor armchair in the kitchen – although this one is looking a little lost, right in front of that door:

Parsons Architects - Windsor Chair

I spy another Windsor chair in the corner here – warm and toasty by the Aga, that’s just about perfect:

Windsor chair in Aga land

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Living etc

There are definitely days when a big up-and-over door would be useful to hide the debris left by my culinary endeavors – this one appears to defy gravity:

Location Works

Then we have not only the up-and-over door, but also clever swiveling boxes to hide the counter top clutter – you just know that has been dreamt up by architects, don’t you:

Architects Adelaide Borniche and Nicola Marchi - Marie Claire Maison

Here the exotic wood panels hide almost everything except the island with its cooktop – but that little oven does become rather a stand-out:

Living etc

And here, at least when you’re seated, there’s little to see except a quiet wall of storage – and  of course,  the faucet:

Jean Pierre Lemoine via stylinrooms.de

Sliding doors are another way to hide all evidence that you actually cook in your kitchen – though once again, the faucet on the island does rather give the game away:

Joseph Dirand Architecture

What do you think? Have kitchens become so offensive that we need to hide them away like this? Although I do find a nice, big, deep sink very useful for stashing pots and pans that I haven’t been able to clean before serving, on the whole  I think I prefer to celebrate food and its preparation rather than treating it like a guilty secret.

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Chicken Chasseur - photo videojug

But, as I did so, I got to wondering, where are those hunters, presumably stalking through the depths of the forest in search of wild game, supposed to get bell peppers and tomatoes from in the first place?  Aren’t those classic garden crops, surely even in bounteous Italy they’re not growing wild in the forest?  Now the French version, with mushrooms and shallots, and of course white wine, I can more or less believe – the hunters could find mushrooms and plenty of wild garlic, if not actual shallots, and of course being French they’d have their white wine with them. But wait, a chicken? Aren’t they supposed to be hunting, not stealing from the nearby villagers? Y’know, this whole thing sounds pretty suspicious to me…

Is it food for unsuccessful hunters – a consolation prize when they come home with just mushroom and shallots, and a chicken has to be pressed into service in lieu of game?  Or, since the recipe usually starts with roasting the chicken rather than stewing it in the sauce,  is it possible the hunters take a cooked bird with them, and add the mushroom and shallot sauce over some romantic campfire on the way to the hunting grounds?  Do they just steal the chicken from some unsuspecting peasants once they are away from their own land, in which case the Greek “Kleftiko”  or Robber’s Chicken would be a better name?

If course I have consulted that 21st century oracle, the internet, on this matter. I find about a million sites telling me that Chasseur style means Hunter’s style, with mushrooms, shallots, and white wine, but no word about where they found the chickens.  At HubUK I am told, in quite an authoritative tone, that

it should be fairly obvious that the name of this dish is derived from the fact that Chasseur wine is used; which is a white wine

that’s an appealing notion and makes perfect sense to me – but unfortunately I can’t find anything to back the claim up – the Chasseur wines I can track down come from South Africa or Sonoma Valley, so I am not convinced. Perhaps if I searched the French internet, all would be clear, but that task is unfortunately beyond me, so I continue in English.
I find, at Absolute Astronomy, that the Chasseur was a Baltimore Clipper which surprised everyone by sailing East and harrassing the British merchant fleet on her maiden voyage in 1814.  I like this story, but unless I start the rumor myself, there is no connection with the chicken dish that I can see.

I am told at WhatsCookingAmerica that

Chasseur, or “Hunter Style” was meant for badly shot game or tough old birds. The birds were always cut up to remove lead shot or torn parts, and often cooked all day on the back of the range if they were old or tough. Originally the veggies used were ones hunters would find while they hunted.

Now this, about the tough old birds, is starting to make sense. The same site tells me

It is thought that Chasseur sauce was invented by Duke Philippe De Mornay (1549-1623), Governor of Saumur, and Lord of the Plessis Marly in the 1600s. He was a great protestant writer and called the protestant pope.

Yay for the Duke – he must have been quite a guy, as he is also is supposed to have invented not only the eponymous Mornay Sauce, but also Sauce Béchamel, Sauce Lyonnaise, and Sauce Porto – where would French cuisine be without him? Of course, the site doesn’t cite any sources, I’m just supposed to accept this as fact, that’s the Internet for you. But was the noble Duke a hunter, or a chicken thief, that’s what I really need to know?

Interestingly, at dictionary.com, I find the following encyclopedia entry for chasseur

(French: “hunter”), member of various branches of the French army. Originally (1743) chasseurs, or chasseurs a pied (“on foot”), were light-infantry regiments. By the outbreak of World War I there were 31 battalions of chasseurs of which 12 were known as chasseurs alpins-units specially trained for mountain warfare. After World War I, chasseurs were formed as independent battalions for administrative purposes but were grouped into demibrigades of three battalions for war. Just prior to World War II a few battalions were integrated into armoured divisions as motorized infantry called chasseurs portes

Now this one, I could definitely believe. I’ve read “The Charterhouse of Parma” (hilarious), and I can totally imagine those French light-infantry sitting around in deserted farmhouses cooking up foraged chicken along with whatever vegetables are left in the potager, and the best white wine they could scavenge up. Why bother to hunt when the peasantry have obligingly done all the work for you?

So in the spirit of the Internet, where we can all read what we want to read and disregard the rest, that’s the definition I choose to believe. In the immortal words of Monty Python:

That is the theory that I have and which is mine, and what it is too

and I’m going to stick with it – unless you can convince me otherwise.
.

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