Recipe: veal kidneys in mustard sauce

During my sojourn in Hong Kong, I was warned constantly about what Chinese people will or will not eat or drink. Some things proved true. All shellfish is popular, especially when raw. Red wine is more popular than white. A lot has been written about the Asian palate but can it be true that it is averse to salt, when everything is served with soy sauce? Will they not eat anchovies, when fermented fish is so popular? And can they really not like kidneys in this, the home of nose-to-tail eating?

Veal kidneys in mustard sauce

Scroll down for method and ingredients

Serves two

I do understand why people won’t eat kidneys, or why at least they dislike the idea. The kidneys’ function hardly adds to their attraction. I have a vivid enough imagination, after all, to not really enjoy brains, however savoury friends aver them to be, and yet their function is much less disagreeable. It may just be that the habit of kidney eating was instilled in me before I had much idea what they did. Kidneys then did not mean veal kidneys. It meant a coarse old “ox” kidney in a steak (a euphemism for a ragged old piece of stewing beef) and kidney pie, or a rich and dark piece of organ attached to a pork chop, or some grilled lamb kidneys on a mixed grill.

Because of those early initiations, I never had any problem with kidney. I saw myself as Leopold Bloom, padding the streets of Dublin with a precious kidney bought from the “ferreteyed pork butcher” to take home for breakfast. But I don’t suppose I even saw a veal kidney until I worked at Le Gavroche, when French veal kidneys were given the luscious “trois moutardes” treatment that I have reprised below, minus the slightly superfluous tarragon mustard.

If that remains my default kidney dish, it is not the only one. I cannot resist the grilled kidneys with chips and Bearnaise sauce at Chez Georges in Paris. A kidney roasted in its own fat is exquisite but even I find the mess and grease tiresome. I have been known to sauté them as below but with a red wine sauce, bacon and button onions – or to slice them thinly and sauté them quickly with wild mushrooms and a trickle of white wine. The only abiding premise to these preparations is that the kidneys must be lightly cooked as they become tough and rubbery when overcooked.

I do not normally eat much of the food that I cook for your visual delectation but on this occasion, given the infrequency with which I get a good kidney, I wolfed the lot. Incidentally, it is gratifying to see that this dish is selling quite well in Hong Kong too.

Veal kidneys in mustard sauce

A very smooth and elegant mashed potato is the ideal accompaniment. A dish for two.

1. Remove any membrane covering the kidney and cut down the length between the lobes to separate it into two parts. Turning each part over, cut down either side of the white fat and connective tissue and remove it completely. Now cut the kidneys into their lobes, each the size of a modest strawberry. Peel and chop the shallots very finely.
2. Heat a heavy-bottomed sauté pan until quite hot. Add a film of oil and then the unseasoned kidneys (salting them before cooking creates an unattractive beading on the surface) and sauté them on a very high heat, turning them from time to time until they are seared on every surface. Tip the kidneys out of the pan into a colander or sieve so that they can drain. They are definitely best when kept quite pink.
3. Without cleaning the pan, melt half the butter in it and add the shallot and the thyme. Stew the shallot gently until soft and then add the wine. Reduce this by two-thirds and then add the cream. Bring to a boil and simmer gently for a few moments until it reaches a good sauce consistency. Whisk in the two mustards before adding the drained kidneys, seasoning them well and reheating them without letting the sauce boil. Swirl in the remaining butter and then serve.

Rowley’s drinking choice

The bright fruit and fresh acidity of a young Pinot Noir with not too much tannin would be perfect for this rich, velvety dish.

rowley.leigh@ft.com

Photograph: Andy Sewell