From Too Many Chefs -

May 17, 2004
While the Cat's Away...

Nonn and liver.jpg The Critic left on Saturday for his Big Montana Adventure, and so Nonn and I are left to our own ideas of what constitutes high cuisine for the next ten days. As usual, this gastronomic liberty led to our favourite meal: calf's liver. I know I should feel bad about those lovely young cows, with their big brown trusting eyes...and I do. But I also love calf's liver. Life is full of inconsistencies and I apologise for mine.

I was going to bake some potatoes as usual to go with the liver, but the day was so beautifully sunny on Saturday that I couldn't bear the thought of turning on the oven. And then I realised I had some fresh spinach in the fridge and some lardons (they are kind of like small chunks of bacon). Bacon goes with fresh spinach and bacon goes well with liver - perfect. So to construct this plate full of iron, do the following: 1) fry the lardons in a frying pan 2) remove the lardons to another plate and fry one sliced onion in the bacon grease 3) remove the onions and fry the liver in the same pan - make sure the heat is very high and that you flip it frequently so that it cooks quickly and remains tender 4) while the veal is cooking, clean and spin the spinach 5) assemble your plate. Isn't it pretty? And the cat loves it when I make calf's liver, because I always order TWO slices so that she can have some too. Purrr.

Posted by Meg in Sussex at May 17, 2004 3:23 AM | TrackBack

It's too big to be a space station! Actually, she looks thinner than when I last saw her.

When I hear the word"liver" I always think of Alan Alda's M*A*S*H rebellion against the mess cooks. "I've eaten a river of liver and an ocean of fish!"

Posted by Barrett on May 17, 2004 at 1:37 PM

It's a very sad fact that the only liver that is worth eating (calf's, foie gras) involves a moral dilemma. I used to like beef liver when I was a young'un but like Hawkeye I'm not sure I could stomach it now....

Posted by Meg in Paris on May 18, 2004 at 10:49 AM