THE OFFAL TRUTH

As recently as the 1940s, offal, euphemistically called “variety meats,” were commonly served in American homes and restaurants. Then most went into an eclipse from which only one or two have begun to emerge.

The principal survivors, beef and calf liver, have tenaciously retained a minority interest in the American palate, while the thymus gland (discreetly referred to as “sweetbreads”) is enjoying something of a revival. Meanwhile heart, kidney, brains, tripe, ox tail and beef testicles (the legendary Rocky Mountain or prairie oysters) have virtually disappeared from the American table.

In spite of the “rebirth” of American cooking and the innovations of California cooking, American menus remain limited. While offal is an essential part of the world’s cuisines, here in the United States it has remained the province of the poor and the gastronomically unassimilated.

Here and there, however, one still finds vestiges of the time when offal was a mainstay of American cooking. Nickodell, an American restaurant in Hollywood since the 1930s, serves sweetbreads braised and broiled and has served them “forever,” as one waitress put it. Musso & Frank Grill, which opened on Hollywood Boulevard in 1919, serves sweetbreads jardiniere and beurre noir with capers. In the Southern tradition, Green’s Soul Food, on Rodeo Road just east of La Cienega Boulevard, serves chitterlings (fried pig intestines) on weekends and has oxtail stew, especially flavorsome in a nostalgic American way, as a frequent special. Although chicken livers and gizzards are as rare as hens’ teeth in these parts, you can find them fried at some Pioneer Chicken outlets.

That may not be an exhaustive survey of the availability of offal in local restaurants, but its brevity is telling. Consider the contrast with my favorite neighborhood restaurant in Paris, Au Pied de Fouet, where four out of seven entrees one night were prepared from offal. There were rognons d’agneau poeles (pan-broiled lamb kidneys), foies de volailles saute s (sauteed chicken liver), cervelle de veau beurre noisette (veal brains in brown butter) and boudin noir (blood sausage). These dishes, as well as tripe a la mode de Caen (beef tripe with vegetables and Calvados) and andouille au vin blanc (pig’s colon stuffed with beef udder or pig’s intestines and stomach) are usually early sellouts at the restaurant.

Throughout France, offal is a popular menu item. Nevertheless, aside from liver and sweetbreads, offal almost never appears in French restaurants in this country. And even the most authentic of our Italian restaurants normally offer nothing more daring than calf liver. Among the fondest memories of my student days in Florence are fegatini di pollo alla salvia (chicken livers sauteed with fresh sage), a simple yet exquisite dish, and cuore di manzo in salsa acciughe (sliced beef heart in anchovy sauce). Apparently, they are too daring for the American palette.

Why are we so skittish about offal? Certainly not for health reasons: Liver, heart and kidneys are as high in protein as flesh but are far lower in fat. Kidneys may be too strongly flavored for our rather bland national taste (a recent ad campaign reads, “Wonder Bread: It’s part of the taste of America”), but tongue and heart are very delicate. Perhaps we don’t like being confronted with human-like body parts on our plate (the first time I ordered langues de veau I overlooked the plural, and instead of the expected slices of beef tongue I was faced with five tiny veal tongues on a plate, curled out at me like multiple Rolling Stones logos). Or perhaps our immigrant families have been rejecting offal as “poor food,” symbolic of the hard lives they left behind in the “old country.”

The answer, if there is one, is very likely “all of the above” and a very strong combination it is. Lamb tongues came off the menu when Ritza, the Georgian restaurant, moved from ethnic East Hollywood to the more American Wilshire District just half a mile away. But some traditions are stronger. Beef lung and spleen were popular with the first generation of poor Eastern European Jewish immigrants. Although these very inexpensive and marginally appealing items were dropped by the next generations (beef lung is prohibited by the Department of Agriculture for sale for human consumption; spleen is still sold under the seemingly euphemistic name “melts,” which is, in fact, its Yiddish name), beef tongue and chicken liver are still on the menu of every Jewish delicatessen. In the Mexican-American, community menudo (beef tripe) is a specialty served especially on weekends and holidays because of its reputed ability to cure hangovers.

Although offal plays an important part in the great, old cuisines of China, you probably won’t find it in neighborhood or up-market Chinese restaurants. However, at Yuan Ten and many other Chinese restaurants in Monterey Park, you will find fried pig’s intestines, shrimp with pork kidney, pork blood with green leek and numerous other dishes featuring offal.

Oddly enough, the quest for the new--or at least the novel--by chefs and diners alike is beginning to bring offal back. You increasingly find it at hip new restaurants. Consider City Restaurant, where julienned lamb’s tongue vinaigrette flavored with fresh thyme is a hearty cold appetizer. At Border Grill, look for the complexly flavored and satisfying calf tongue stew and tongue tacos.

Kate Mantilini, the new restaurant at the eastern edge of Beverly Hills, is both hyper-trendy and nostalgic. But it’s the menu that makes the old new again. Brains were still a popular dish in the ‘30s and here they are once again “selling well,” I’m told: calf brain omelet and calf brains beurre noir , attractively tinged with blackened butter and dotted with capers.

Sweetbreads, which almost disappeared from the American table, are now enjoying quite a comeback. In addition to the many French restaurants that have always served them, you now find them used in interesting new ways. Citrus serves a warm crispy sweetbread salad, while the Parkway Grill in Pasadena occasionally offers sweetbread ravioli.

This (slowly) growing acceptance of offal by Americans is undoubtedly due to a combination of innovation, nostalgia and a growing exposure to ethnic cuisines and regional American cooking. So we may soon be seeing more interesting dishes on our menus.

Still, we’ve got a long way to go before we catch up to the variety offered in Europe and the Orient. One evening, for example, while strolling through Pistoia, the Tuscan city known for its Della Robbia terra cottas, I noticed a handwritten sign saying “ Migliacci oggi “ taped to a stone archway. In the shadows, a man was standing before a grill making what appeared to be dark-colored crepes.

“ Scusi, signore, “ I asked, “what are migliacci ?”

“ Sono Ottimi, signore ,” he replied.

“Yes, I’m sure they’re excellent, but what are they made of?” I persisted.

“Oh,” he replied, apparently surprised by my ignorance, “pig’s blood and flour.” I leaned against the arch for support. Sometimes it’s best not to encounter offal unawares.