A Brief History
Since the earliest bovines met the spears of our ancestors, steaks have been prepared pretty much the same way. The cuts were grilled over a fire to quickly sear what many consider to be the choicest, most tender part of the animal. (By contrast, think of the stewing, braising and roasting necessary for larger and tougher cuts.)
Innovations in pans and the creation of the modern stove have changed things slightly, but the goal is the same, which is to brown the outside of the meat while preserving the juiciness of the middle. This can be done on green wooden sticks or hot rocks, over a grill, or in a metal or earthenware pan.
But the sauce accompanying this steak has had a more varied history. And it’s one that exemplifies the evolution of French cuisine over the centuries.
The earliest European sauces, which date to ancient times, were distinct from the meat, fish or vegetables with which they were served, prepared separately and from their own set of ingredients. The reasons were medicinal, rather than for the sake of taste. Based on the theory of humorism, a sauce was meant to balance out the intrinsic qualities of other ingredients in the dish to create a harmonious and health-giving meal. Pork, which was considered to be inherently moist and cold, might be paired with spicy, acidic sauces, to counter any potential upset of humors in the person eating it.
By the 17th century, a new French cuisine had begun to emerge. The focus shifted to enhancing the natural taste of foods rather than smothering them in spices and vinegars for purported health benefits. The ancestors of modern French sauces can be found in cookbooks from that era, in which herbs replaced spices, wine and stock eased the reliance on vinegar and verjus, and flour and butter roux, rather than bread crumbs, were used as thickeners. The practice of deglazing a pan of roasted meats to make the base for an elaborate sauce grew in popularity.
Over time sauces became richer and more voluptuous, beaten with butter, eggs and flour to achieve a thick and satiny consistency. In the 1830s, Marie-Antoine Carême first wrote about four mother sauces: espagnole (a demi-glace-based brown sauce), velouté (a stock-based sauce thickened with roux), béchamel (a creamy milk-based sauce) and allemande (a velouté thickened with eggs and cream). Auguste Escoffier would later refine Carême’s classification, demoting allemande to a subset of velouté and adding tomato sauce and hollandaise to the list.
These mother sauces remained central in French kitchens until the birth of the nouvelle cuisine movement of the 1960s. As the country’s top chefs worked to simplify the national cuisine, they moved away from heavy sauces. (One of the 10 commandments for the movement, laid out in a 1973 article by the pioneering restaurant critics Henri Gault and Christian Millau, “Vive la Nouvelle Cuisine Francaise”: “You will eliminate rich sauces.”) Rather than relying on roux as thickeners, French chefs turned to the lighter touch of lemon juice, butter and herbs.
That approach lives on. Instead of deglazing a pan to use the resulting liquid in an intricate sauce, cooks now savor the mixture as a simple yet elegant sauce in its own right.
Above, a depiction of a Paris provision shop in 1871, from The Illustrated London News.