So tonight I got home and found a very unassuming package on my kitchen counter. The return address told me it was from an old friend mine who lives in Berkeley and who I don’t get to see often. However, this friend occasionally sends me gifts for no reason other than she’s come across something she thinks I’ll enjoy. It’s always something stupendous and brilliant. The package tonight was no different. I received the most awesomest cookbook ever, Tanaquil (“Tanny”) Le Clercq’s
The Ballet Cook Book (1966). Only my love of ballet rivals my love of food. I had no idea this book existed.
Le Clercq (1929-2000) was a principal dancer with the New York City Ballet, who is known by non-balletomanes because she was George Balachine’s fourth and last wife and because her career ended tragically when she contracted polio and was paralyzed from the waist down.
The Ballet Cook Book is a collection of recipes from and food-related stories about some of the most distinguished ballet dancers of the 20th century. It’s surprisingly well written.
In case there are other LTH-balletomanes out there, I wanted to share a few passages from the book that I’ve enjoyed already. Le Clercq had me at the preface.
Ballet dancers eat better than any other people in the world.
For one thing they have the proper appetite for it. Because of the physical nature of their art they are always hungry, they seem always to have food on their minds, and they are always talking about it.
Before going on stage, of course, they eat very little. But afterward… “I took such-and-such a ballerina out for a snack after the performance,” you sometimes hear, “and it cost me thirty dollars.” Or a bewildered matron may wonder aloud, “All I invited were a few of the principals and, my dear, they descended upon the food like a plague of locusts.”
I will surely try some of the recipes from
The Ballet Cook Book soon. Others, I will continue to ponder, including: George Balanchine’s Horseradish Ice Cream; Jacques d’Amboise’s Hollandaise Astronaut I; Igor Youskevitch’s Busy Man’s Meat; Janine Charrat’s Kabbal Ourfali (A Turkish Mountaineers’ Dish); Anya Linden’s Exotic Alcoholic Ice Cream; and Suzanne Farrell’s Pâté Oscar (After a Cat).
The recipes in and of themselves are intriguing, but Le Clercq has provided some excellent stories for context. I love the history, myth, humor and personal anecdotes. From the chapter on choreographer Sir Frederick Ashton:
At the Covent Garden Theater, in 1735, there was inaugurated something called the Sublime Society of Steaks. The Sublime Society was formed when an actor named Rich cooked an impromptu steak for a Lord Peterborough. His Lordship was so enthusiastic over the steak that he proposed forming a society and repeating this gladsome event every Saturday henceforth. The Society continued to meet at Covent Garden until the fire of 1808, when things became too hot even for steaks. The beef was then removed to a new location, and it was not until many years later that the Society was dissolved. Somewhere I have read that the original grill on which Mr. Rich broiled his first steak is still in existence.
Be that as it may, were any peer of the realm to taste Sir Frederick’s Beefsteak Pudding there would be a new society formed: a Sublime Society of Beefsteak Puddings.
{Recipe follows}
From the chapter on Maria Tallchief:
Let the British have their Dames: dame Ninette de Valois, Dame Marie Rambert, Dame Alicia Markova, Dame Margot Fonteyn. We in America shall have to be content with our Commodore, Commodore Tallchief. Maria was made a Commodore of the Oklahoma Navy. True, she has no large fleet to command, no ships at all, no sea to navigate, no ocean to fish…but she does have fish, cans and cans of them. So without further ado we shall weigh anchor and sail off for Commodore Tallchief’s Tuna Fish and Sour Cream.
{Recipe follows}
From the chapter on Canadian-born dancer Patricia Wilde:
From the remainder of Pat’s recipes you may get the idea of her Canadian homeland as terrain swathed in maple syrup. Pat relates the amusing story of the golden syrup’s supposed origin.
“Once upon a time there lived a squaw who, like so many of us, was trying to do two things at the same time; in this instance: cook the dinner while sewing on her husband’s moccasins. Dinner consisted of moose meat boiled in the sweetish water of the maple tree. The squaw, becoming engrossed in her moccasin-making, let all of the water evaporate, until there remained only the piece of meat in a thick brown syrup. Luckily for this careless Indian housewife, her husband, upon tasting the repast pronounced it a ‘dish fit for a chief,’ and the squaw and her Indian brave lived happily ever after. On moose meat in maple syrup.”
{Maple Mousse recipe follows}
There are dozens more delightful stories in
The Ballet Cook Book including Allegra Kent on performing the role of Gluttony and grilling technique by Jerome Robbins.
The Ballet Cook Book has instantly become my absolute favorite cookbook. It’s a fascinating take on 20th century ballet, rich with tales, recipes and some of my favorite ballet photographs. Thank you, Jenny!
Last edited by
happy_stomach on January 27th, 2009, 8:31 am, edited 1 time in total.