This past weekend, I set out to prove that Mustard could be invited to a party and perform as well as her much-admired cousin, Spinach. The dish that was to be my proving ground was Eggs Sardou, a pedigreed creation with beginnings in 1908 at the famed Antoine’s in New Orleans. Jules Alciatore created this fine dish in honor of the French playwright Victorien Sardou and served it to him at breakfast (Roy F. Guste, Jr., The 100 Great New Orleans Creole Recipes). This little history lesson is being given so that you may appreciate the sacrilege it would be for someone to finagle with such rich culinary history. Sacrilege or not, I sauntered forth with determination. I was going to take lowly Mustard and turn her into My Fair Lady.
Eggs Sardou is not a dish that I had ever cooked, though I had eaten it in one or another of the New Orleans restaurants. At its base is a layer of creamed spinach, on top of which is nestled an artichoke heart, the perfect container for a soft-boiled egg and the drizzling of hollandaise that is poured over the top. A touch of something black is placed at the very top, truffles (for the well-healed) or black olives (for the hoi-polloi). It has seen some variations over the one-hundred years since its creation, but nowhere had I seen anything like the dish I am going to tell you about. This is my own version of this lovely, lovely, beautifully rich dish that should be prepared only for a small party—perhaps two—for one of those very special occasions—like a fiftieth wedding anniversary. [You will understand my reasoning as we go along.]
The dish begins with creamed spinach. Instead, of course, I got out the mustard greens I had stored in the fridge—and realized I did not have enough. They cook down so much that you must begin with a massive quantity. I went back to the fridge and pulled out the kale—two strong greens. Did I dare? Of course. I washed and chopped the combined mustard and kale, sautéed it in olive oil, and steamed it for a short while with a little water until tender (need I say that all massive stems were removed before I started—no point in pushing your luck). [To be washed: 1 pot, 1 salad spinner]
For sauces I go to my ever-beloved Julia’s Mastering the Art of French Cooking. Her recipe for Bechamel is basically the same as the butter, flour, milk sauce you have been making since you were twelve. Her technique is what makes it come out so velvety smooth, and yours can, too, as she set out to prove all those years ago when she worked on this wonderful book. So my Bechamel was lovely. I added it to the drained mustard and kale and set the pan aside. [To be washed: 1 pot, 2 measuring cups, 1 colander]
Instead of artichokes, I set out to find something local that would give the same texture to the dish. I thought of eggplant and remembered that some of the vendors at the farmer’s market were still bringing eggplants even though summer has long been over. I got a couple of pounds and got out Marcella Hazan’s (the Italian Julia) Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking. I knew which recipe I was going for: Eggplant Patties with Parsley, Garlic, and Parmesan (why would I look for anything else). These patties are fried in oil so they are crusty on the outside; they’re meaty and provide a contrast in texture to the creamed mustard and kale. [To be washed: 1 baking pan, 1 chopping board, 1 grater, 1 bowl, 3 plates, 1 skillet, 1 stove]
Poaching eggs freestyle is an undertaking in courage. You must bring the vinegar-laced water to the boil, then lower the heat so that bubbles gurgle up, but not so rapidly that they would demolish the egg that you so carefully lower into the hot water. The spider or slotted spoon is a must for spooning the white over the yolk making everything neat and tidy. Poaching an egg in this manner is fairly easy once you’ve done it a couple of hundred times. Poaching is also a forgiving method of egg preparation since, even when the egg is blown apart (yes), you can still spoon the white over the yolk and make it somewhat presentable. (It just dawned on me—I’ll bet that was part of the reason Alciatore put that hollandaise over everything!) [To be washed: 1 pot, 1 slotted spoon, 1 small bowl, 1 plate]
For the hollandaise, I went back to Julia. I read every word of her reasons why you should first make hollandaise with a bowl and whisk before using the sure-fire, no-fail blender hollandaise recipe. I acknowledged her wisdom and experience and got out the blender. [To be washed: 1 blender, 1 chopping board, 1 pot]
At last everything was ready to put the dish together. I took out two plates and managed to find space for them on the counter between the dirty chopping boards and the plates I used for rolling the eggplant patties in flour. I started with the creamed mustard and kale (which I had to reheat slightly), then added the eggplant patties, topped the patties with the poached eggs, and spooned the hollandaise over the entire exquisite creation. For the touch of black on top of the dish I used leftover black fish roe that we had gotten from Rouse’s for sushi night with the grandchildren. Voila—Eggs Sardou L’Acadien!
I turned to set the plates at our usual eating spots in the kitchen. Not a clean space to be found. I yelled to Harvey to grab the wine and meet me in the dining room—white tablecloth, comfortable chairs, dimmed lights. Mustard and kale were elegant in their new surroundings. No one would ever suppose they were meant to be anywhere else but in the finest dining rooms. The eggplant was a perfect balance for the greens—and what dish is not enhanced by the yolk of an egg, be it poached or in hollandaise.
While I may not go through the trouble of creating this lovely, lovely, beautiful dish at home again (even for our fiftieth wedding anniversary), I will definitely make creamed mustard (kale, collards, etc.). It can hold its own on any party or holiday table. Harvey and I think it’s “just loverly.”[Clean-up: 1 hour and 25 minutes]
Recipes will be posted on the Cooking page in a couple of days.
