nineteenth century. For years following the decline of the whaling trade and the failure of all but a handful of industries, Sag Harbor fell silently into decrepitude, too poor even to demolish its fading old houses and commercial buildings. Most of these sturdy structures have now been artfully restored, so that visitors interested in vernacular styles of American domestic architecture will find here a living museum of Federal, Greek Revival, as well as a rareEgyptian Revival church, Swiss Cottage, and other Victorian styles, inhabited not by bewigged actors in period costume but by actual dogs, people, and children.
A century ago, families would take the train out to Southampton for weekend duck dinners at John Duck’s famous restaurant, a short walk from the depot. Never a favorite of the seasonal nobility, John Duck’s was patronized by the local burghers and known not so much for its ducks, which were still roasted in their own fat rather than with the fat extruded in the current fashion, but for its addictive coleslaw, which was served as a kind of amuse-bouche. John Duck’s is now out of business, but the composition of its coleslaw continues to intrigue local cooks.
One day last summer, at Halsey’s farm stand in Watermill, as I waited to be served, I was wondering aloud to a friend whether to buy yet another cabbage and try once again to solve the mystery of John Duck’s coleslaw. “I know the recipe,” conspiratorially whispered the farm-stand proprietor, who had been following our conversation. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.” She darted away to her house to retrieve her recipe box. “Look through it,” she said, “and you’ll find it.” And so I did.
John Duck used an old fashioned cabbage grinder that quickly and accurately reduced the vegetables to a confetti-like but still-crunchy texture. A carefully managed food processor produces similar results, batch by batch.
JOHN DUCK’S COLESLAW
Remove the outer leaves and core from a medium head of green cabbage. Cut the cabbage in quarters, and each quarter in three chunks. Put as much as will fit easily in a food processor, and process off and on four or five times, until most of the cabbage has been ground to the size of confetti but no smaller. Empty the ground cabbage into a bowl, remove any large pieces, and add them to the next batch. Cut a bell pepper in chunks, and chop a carrot and two stalks of celery coarsely, and run them quickly through a food processor, retaining as much texture as possible. Cut an onion separately by hand into very small dice, but be careful not to add too much or it will overwhelm everything else. For a medium cabbage, mix one cup of mayonnaise—either Hellmann’s, to save time, or homemade sweetened with a third of a cup of sugar and diluted with enough milk to melt the sugar and thin the mayonnaise without making it watery. Or substitute buttermilk or plain, unstrained yogurt for milk. Then mix all the ingredients with a teaspoon of caraway seed, add salt very carefully, a few grains at a time, and a few splashes of white vinegar to taste. Chill it for an hour or so. The result will be first cousin to John Duck’s, but creamier and crunchier.
FRIED CHICKEN
I like to serve this coleslaw with Sal Iacono’s two-and-a-half-pound chickens, cut in eight pieces, which I marinate in Lawry’s Seasoning for a few hours, dip lightly in flour or Wondra, shaking off the excess, and fry the drumsticks and thighs first, then the breasts and wings, in vegetable oil at 350 degrees in a cast-iron skillet, taking care that the oil isnot so deep as to cover the chicken, which I turn several times, so that the skin does not blacken where it touches the pan. The chicken is done when the internal temperature reaches 135 degrees on an instant-read thermometer, after about ten minutes for the legs and thighs and a minute or two longer for the breasts. For three-and-a-half-pound chickens, the legs and thighs will take a little
A century ago, families would take the train out to Southampton for weekend duck dinners at John Duck’s famous restaurant, a short walk from the depot. Never a favorite of the seasonal nobility, John Duck’s was patronized by the local burghers and known not so much for its ducks, which were still roasted in their own fat rather than with the fat extruded in the current fashion, but for its addictive coleslaw, which was served as a kind of amuse-bouche. John Duck’s is now out of business, but the composition of its coleslaw continues to intrigue local cooks.
One day last summer, at Halsey’s farm stand in Watermill, as I waited to be served, I was wondering aloud to a friend whether to buy yet another cabbage and try once again to solve the mystery of John Duck’s coleslaw. “I know the recipe,” conspiratorially whispered the farm-stand proprietor, who had been following our conversation. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.” She darted away to her house to retrieve her recipe box. “Look through it,” she said, “and you’ll find it.” And so I did.
John Duck used an old fashioned cabbage grinder that quickly and accurately reduced the vegetables to a confetti-like but still-crunchy texture. A carefully managed food processor produces similar results, batch by batch.
JOHN DUCK’S COLESLAW
Remove the outer leaves and core from a medium head of green cabbage. Cut the cabbage in quarters, and each quarter in three chunks. Put as much as will fit easily in a food processor, and process off and on four or five times, until most of the cabbage has been ground to the size of confetti but no smaller. Empty the ground cabbage into a bowl, remove any large pieces, and add them to the next batch. Cut a bell pepper in chunks, and chop a carrot and two stalks of celery coarsely, and run them quickly through a food processor, retaining as much texture as possible. Cut an onion separately by hand into very small dice, but be careful not to add too much or it will overwhelm everything else. For a medium cabbage, mix one cup of mayonnaise—either Hellmann’s, to save time, or homemade sweetened with a third of a cup of sugar and diluted with enough milk to melt the sugar and thin the mayonnaise without making it watery. Or substitute buttermilk or plain, unstrained yogurt for milk. Then mix all the ingredients with a teaspoon of caraway seed, add salt very carefully, a few grains at a time, and a few splashes of white vinegar to taste. Chill it for an hour or so. The result will be first cousin to John Duck’s, but creamier and crunchier.
FRIED CHICKEN
I like to serve this coleslaw with Sal Iacono’s two-and-a-half-pound chickens, cut in eight pieces, which I marinate in Lawry’s Seasoning for a few hours, dip lightly in flour or Wondra, shaking off the excess, and fry the drumsticks and thighs first, then the breasts and wings, in vegetable oil at 350 degrees in a cast-iron skillet, taking care that the oil isnot so deep as to cover the chicken, which I turn several times, so that the skin does not blacken where it touches the pan. The chicken is done when the internal temperature reaches 135 degrees on an instant-read thermometer, after about ten minutes for the legs and thighs and a minute or two longer for the breasts. For three-and-a-half-pound chickens, the legs and thighs will take a little
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