A tribute to the Stone Home Wine Bar

As I have written in these pages before – I am a fool for offal. Liver, especially, is one of my favourites. I can remember the look that my father gave me when, as a five year-old, I must have surprised him by displaying a hearty appetite for the pan-fried pork livers that he loved so dearly. My father was a very private man but even he could not disguise the happiness that showed so clearly on his face. In later years he mastered the art of acting all put out – at having to deal with competition at the dinner table for this otherwise unpopular delicacy – but I knew he was secretly pleased that he had been able to share his love for liver with at least one of his children.

What he did not do, though, was share his alleged love for cooking with any of his children at all. Growing up we heard stories – from our mother, our aunts and all manner of others who had had the fortune of tasting my father’s cooking – about how wonderful a chef our father was. There was the story of how, as a ten-year-old, my father averted a near disaster and saved a dinner party for twelve when his mother, my grandmother, was stranded while out running errands. It must have been embellished and retold many times over the years because by the time we heard the story it sounded like my father had, at the last minute, thrown together a multi-course meal with nothing more than a pair of scissors, some tongs, and a paper clip.

But he rarely, if ever, cooked for us – that was left to my mother or our housemaid who ran the kitchen with her own idiosyncratic efficiency. I personally never knew where anything ever was, yet she would be able to produce it out of a hidden cupboard within seconds. It was quite marvelous, really, what else she could whip up at a moment’s notice. She would make me full meals out of nothing at all when I would come home late from rugby practice, and I never thought to question how it was she seemed to have everything prepped at any given time, for whatever I was in the mood for. Years later as I started to cook myself, I wondered how she did it; and I realised just what a feat of organisation running a kitchen actually was.

Yet I digress. The other day I felt in the mood for some liver, so I decided to make a chicken liver mousse – something I had never done before. I had had one that Morgan made at the wine bar he worked at, so I knew that he knew how to do it; and he graciously told me how over the phone as I walked the aisles at Whole Foods. I bought a crusty wheat baguette to go with it, and went on my way.

It is strangely satisfying when you add a new recipe, or a technique, to your repertoire, and it was this satisfied feeling that came over me as I tasted the warm mousse when I was done making it. I had done good.

I was relieved when Mike and Marc both admitted that they liked liver too – for I had not considered the dietary preferences of my guests for the meal at all. The mousse turned out pretty well, if I may say so myself; I had added some port wine to Morgan’s recipe and it worked wonders. It is a crying shame that one can only eat so much liver at a go; especially when there is still a pasta appetiser and a main course of pork to go. I was a happy camper at the end of the meal, and we went off on our way to get ourselves more intoxicated.

Chicken Liver Mousse, or Mousse de foies de volailles
inspired by the Stone Home Wine Bar

1 pound chicken livers, washed and cleaned
1 + ½ stick butter
2 cloves garlic
1 large shallot
½ cup port wine
1 tbsp nutmeg
1 tbsp allspice
Salt and pepper

Marinate the livers in the port wine for 30 minutes. Finely dice the garlic and shallot and sauté them in the ½ stick of butter over medium heat. Add the livers and spices, reserving the port marinade and sauté till browned, about 3 minutes each side. Add the port and reduce until half the liquid is gone.

In a blender or food processor, blend the warm liver mixture and add the remaining butter in small pieces. According to Morgan, the butter that is added here should preferably be cold, because it emulsifies better. Once the livers and the butter combine, remove and place in a mold. You should line the mold with saran wrap so that you can pull the mousse out easily when serving. Refrigerate for at least 2 hours. Serves 6 as an appetiser.