My earliest food memories: Taking on a classically trained French waiter in a hotel in Kilaloo who demanded I order from the 'kiddies' menu. Hell hath no fury like a precocious child told he can't have what he wants and I got my grilled lamb-chops with orange sauce. Perhaps, with hindsight, that was more of a moral victory.
Forward a few years, on holiday, I can see my younger self complaining about the service and the presentation of his dessert...in the canteen in Mosney! That closed down shortly after, obviously vindicating my nascent critical faculties. The hope is that the asylum seekers now resident there receive better board.
Perhaps the best example though of my early epicurean tendencies was my nibble of choice as a nipper - veal. To this day, the sight of it on a menu brings a blush to my cheeks, kicks my salivary glands into overdrive and causes a Proustian rumble in my tummy. Veal was Sunday lunch in the local hotel; it was family, crisp linen, sauce chasseur and the heady notion that, to my young mind, I may as well have been in the Savoy.
One occasion lodges firmly in my mind when my order of veal brought boos and howls of disapproval from the left-leaning, vegetarian fringe of my family; a perfect, if extreme, example of the view that many hold about this misunderstood meat. I devoured that particular escalope with even greater relish than usual but marked too, for the first time, that food had meaning and consequence beyond what was on my plate and in my belly. Somewhere in my young mind I resolved to always taste first and ask questions later. So, in a neat piece of revisionism, I would like to make the point that I was right all along and state the case for eating veal.
The fact of the matter is that the veal industry in Europe is now regulated to prevent the practices that were previously found so objectionable (if delicious) in the rearing of veal-calves. Veal crates have been banned in the UK since 1990, outlawed in the EU by Council Directive 91/629/EEC and similar legislation is on the way in many states in the US. Yes, there may still be incidences where primitive and cruel farming occurs but protests on these grounds equate to condemning the entire hen-house because of the odd bad egg. With regular inspections and stiff sanctions (read the Directive if you doubt it), it doesn't pay to violate these regulations.
Compassion in World Farming (CIWF) in Ireland still isn't keen on veal though. They are trying to bring an end to the live transport of Irish calves to veal processing plants on the Continent. In a rare coalescence of opinion I think that CIWF are absolutely rights. We should not export live calves. We should eat them here instead.
Lest I sound a little glib, let me expand. I choose the word 'should' intentionally. It is, I think, a moral imperative that we increase our consumption of veal in this country. Drink milk? Thought so. Veal is one of the primary by-products of the dairy industry. Just like your mother, a cow needs to be pregnant to lactate. The average cow will produce 4 to 5 calves across their dairy career. While female calves go on to be incorporated into the dairy heard, the males, not bread for beef, are useless and a costly presence about the farm. As was graphically shown on the BBC's documentary earlier in the year,
Kill It, Cook It, Eat It, in the absence of a domestic market for veal, many of these calves end up on the less humane end of a vet's pistol.
Such waste becomes increasingly difficult to justify in the current economic and environmental climate. Think of it another way. This country, more accurately the farming lobby in particular, fight hard to maintain a beef sector that is at the very least an inefficient industry and more probably a damagingly unsustainable activity with negative economic effects both domestically and for poorer countries that have a definite comparative advantage in beef production, like Brazil. A strong domestic veal industry creates a use for an abundant by-product of the dairy industry, would offset some of our beef consumption, our dependence on the sector and mitigate the damage that our bovine protectionism inflicts on the developing world.
Obviously I do not hold this up as a total solution, but a practical (and tasty) small step within the larger ecological changes that we must no longer deny are necessary. Add to that the fact that veal is lower in fat and higher in energy than a comparative cut of beef and compares favourably with poultry alternatives such as chicken and turkey and you also have a convincing health argument.
So, how will this affect your eating habits? Well, in reality you are probably already eating the bit of calf or rather bits of calves. It is one of those ingredients that crops up here and there in the production of other foods. Rennet, made from calf stomach is commonly used in cheese production while chances are the depth and complexity of flavour in the sauces you eat in restaurants, so difficult to achieve at home, owe something to a base stock made from veal bones. Rationally, this should allow you to get over any lingering discomfort you have in eating a 'poor little baby cow', as indeed should all of that roast lamb (baby sheep?) you had in the spring.
Forget words though. The proof of my argument is in the eating. A number of restaurants around Dublin, to be commended for their efforts, continue to serve and promote veal, though it is generally sourced in France. In
Residence on St Stephen's Green veal is the turf in its surf n' turf option.
Da Pino on Parliament Street, in typically rustic style, does a simple escalope of veal with sage. Veal has provided me with some marked high notes in my eating experiences but as yet it remains a rare presence on Irish menus. The French and Italians have had no qualms cooking and eating veal. Nor have the Austrians, though I guess the
wiener schnitzel carries less culinary and rhetorical weight.
Of course, where we really need to start eating veal is in our own homes so here are some ideas. Osso Bucco is a classic treatment of veal. Braise some veal shanks (watch your butcher's reaction when you place that order) in white wine, stock and a bouquet garni. Finish with a can of tomoatos and gremolata (a punchy little seasoning of finely chopped parsley, garlic and lemon peel). Or for a less arduous introduction, take a veal cutlet, treat it like a pork-chop and fry with butter and sage. Use the left over pan-juices to dress some boiled baby-spuds and serve with some greens. All those preconceptions formed out of decades of animal rights propaganda will melt away as quickly as the delicate threads of protein on your tongue.
The downside? Well, unless you're a calf, in which case you will have found this entire piece truly disturbing, I fail to see one.
I feel a certain ownership of the mojito. I first tasted one on a fondly remembered holiday and it was the first cocktail I was asked to make in my brief stint as a cocktail bar-man. It's subsequently become my cocktail of choice and for New Year's I will be making a pilgrimage of sorts and sipping mojitos on Club Havana beach in Cuba. That's what passes for spirituality these days.
To some, this seems like a lot of trouble to go to for a drink. Truth be told, it is. A busy bar-man won't thank you for the order. But practice makes perfect and after you have made an unholy mess with your first few attempts (a sharp shot of lime-juice to the eye teaches you to adopt a more relaxed muddling technique) and adjusted the ingredients to suit your own palate, you will be banging out the high-balls like a regular Tom Cruise, back when that was a good thing. To crank up the ceremony (and the alcohol content), replace the ginger ale with some fizz. I use Prossecco but anything bubbly will give you that extra touch of decadence.
