Roadblock

So Matt and I did a practice run on the Rarebit last night. A pound of sharp cheddar, a cup of porter, some butter, salt, mustard, paprika, Tabasco, and Worcestershire, finished off with an egg, well beaten. It was the consistency of heavy cream, and had a kind of rosé color, like the port swirls in port wine cheddar. We ladled it over the toasted bread and ate it with knife and fork. The rarebit was rich and tangy. It didn't have enough kick for Matt so we added some cayenne, which gave some afterburn heat, but didn't add anything flavor-wise.

Matt did seem to like it at the time, but this morning he couldn't stop going on about how fondue is so much better. Why make rarebit when you can make fondue? He says he like the subtlety of fondue and how flavors like nutmeg can come through. Also, when it comes to the introduction of bread to cheese, he is all about the long fork dunking and not so much the open faced sandwich scenario.

Of course, I don't disagree that fondue is the bees knees. And nobody loves nutmeg and melted cheese like I do. But why limit yourself? Why not expand your melted cheese vocabulary? Plus, as I discovered to my delight this morning, the chafing dish is incredibly easy to clean, unlike the fondue pot. Cleaning the fondue pot is a multi-stage project that involves a lot of elbow grease. The chafing dish did not requires soaking or scraping, or trying to avoid getting the wooden handle wet.

I am eager to move forward with the perfection of rarebit, but it seems my biggest roadblock will be Matt. How can I convince him that its worth another try?

Building Blocks

Okay. Back from the store. I asked Matt to come along. Of course the first thing he asked was “What kind of beer?” The recipes had not been too specific on that point, but one had mentioned porter. Matt was skeptical. He opened his laptop as he said “Alton Brown won’t let us down.” A few clicks and Alton had indeed confirmed porter as the beer of choice. But even more than his beer expertise, I knew Matt would have a calming influence on my natural tendency to head for the island of imported cheeses in the deli section. In the end we decided Tillamook sharp cheddar was good enough for us. But I did get a fancy loaf of bread, which may have been a mistake. It may call too much attention to itself. We'll see.

Conceptual Food

Welsh Rarebit is one of those concepts that it seems has always existed in my mind, even though I have no direct knowledge of it. I’m pretty sure I read about the pronunciation of Rarebit as Rabbit long before I had any cause to speak the term. But regardless of pronunciation, this is food. Taste, texture, aroma are the key characteristics. As to them, I can only extrapolate.

This is one of those dishes that seems to have been popular because it was so easy you could make it yourself. You know, when your servants had their night off, or had already gone to bed, or you were away at school. I’m not a culinary anthropologist, and it’s possible that this originated as peasant food: yet another way to use up hard cheese and stale bread, or a meal that didn’t require expensive meat but in my mind this is the sort of thing one makes after coming home from the theater.

It is a classic in the chafing dish repertoire. Though nowadays the chafing dish is mostly used to keep foods warm at a buffet, it used to be used much more often for cooking at the table. Crêpes suzette anyone? Ah! An unstorable, unwieldy rather specialized piece of kitchen equipment that involves open flame? I am so there.

I have started the process of inviting a few friends out to the theater and then back here for some Welsh Rarebit. (I may never feel the special satisfaction of feeding myself on cook’s night off, but I can replicate the après-theatre part of the experience). Of course, I’ll have to have a trial run before the cooking performance. Tonight seems like a good night.

First I have to find a recipe. Welsh Rarebit is a melted, spiced cheese and bread combo. It’s similar to cheese fondue except you use cheddar and beer instead of Swiss and wine. Also you pour it over toast rather than dunking in hunks of bread. Checking the index of ten or so of my most likely cookbooks yields seven recipes.

If I were Christopher Kimball, I might make each recipe as a written so I could compare the results and then begin making adjustments, but I don’t have the time or the patience. We can rule out the 1929 New Delineator cookbook along with the 1950 Chafing Dish cookery for substituting milk for beer. The 1989 Silver Palate New Basics addition of cornstarch doesn’t seem right, and the 1996 BH&G inclusion of sliced tomato and Canadian bacon is right out. Of the seven recipes, 3 have no egg, two have yolks only, and two have a whole egg. I think I’ll go with the 1937 For Men Only recipe as my base. It does include an egg. I may tone down the seasonings just a tad: Tabasco, cayenne, mustard and Worcestershire might be a bit much all together.

Of course which cheddar and beer I choose will have the most impact. I’ll have to see what looks good at the store.