Lunch yesterday was fois gras spread on toast and a salad of rocket, pear and pecan. Not that I disliked it, but I suspect I must be too peasantine to appreciate liver presented as a product.
More to my taste was a dish I had in Finsbury Park a few weeks ago at Season Kitchen, which describes itself as modern British. Most of us had pheasant for our main course, but I began with a mixture of livers, duck and chicken. That was almost all there was to the dish. They were cooked not quite whole, but in chunky pieces, very plainly and acceptably timed. It’s hard for a restaurant to cook liver correctly as in general they need to err on the side of over-cooked, this being what the average diner is prepared for, not to mention, in the distance it takes to get from pan to table it is still cooking and those few seconds can make all the difference. I want my liver to be soft, but not bloody…
…and to be frank, I want it dead, which was not quite how I had it in Japan a few years ago. I appreciate the Japanese insistence on freshness, but may there not be some trust in the transaction between chef and customer? Here the liver we ate was from a squid which had been chopped in the kitchen but was still alive as it was cooked in front of us and even when it was on our plates. Like it hadn’t put the pieces together yet: I guess it was the squid equivalent of a still-live but headless chook.
At any rate, a fairly plain way to have liver which I can’t cook at the moment because Globus has stopped selling chicken livers and I know not where else to acquire them in Geneva, is this Italian style. I wrote it up a while ago here.