POPE'S NOSE

Dorothy Hartley, the Grande Dame of English Cooking. Her recipes are anecdotal; crippled tales told in language more akin to the vernacular of 'Twas the Night Before Christmas rather than that of the culinary sphere. Hers is a warm savory kitchen. Earthenware pots of lard line the counters and scrabbles of fresh herbs pulled from the ground hang from the ceiling, drying in the heat pulsing from the stove's hob.

Besides teaching me about the importance of bones, Hartley taught me about kidneys, too. There's no fussing with it. It's an organ. Plain and simple. It's faint uric smell transmits its use. The stringy gristle which drops from its center cannot be denied. It's a part of the machine. It helps the machine work. And now that machine is broken forever and something must be done with the part. Ah, well...

Things you'll need: Four to five lamb's kidneys; butter; all-purpose flour; dry colman's mustard; cayenne; sea-salt and pepper; Lea & Perrins; balsamic vinegar; chicken stock, a heavy skillet and a Guinness or two.

Soften the butter in a hot skillet. Slice the kidney lengthwise and remove the grisly gristly bits with a sharp knife. Season the flour with the mustard and cayenne and salt and pepper. Toss the kidney in the flour. Your pan should be fussing; add the kidney. Cook for two minutes and turn. Splash in your L&P, stock and vinegar. Let it reduce over high heat all while scraping the pan and thickening the gravy. Brown some good hearty white bread under the broiler.

Bread to plate; kidney over bread; gravy over kidney over bread. Ah. Guinness in a glass. It's suppertime.

Photos: (a) Kidney in fussy skillet; (b) suppah!