The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 1102

Striped Bass a la Conti

Bass Raye a la Conti

Lift the fillets of bass; suppress the skin and trim them into half inch thick slices, paring them into half-hearts, two inches by two and a half; season. Cut also from the fish small strips three inches long, and three-quarters of an inch wide, sloping the ends down to points; make five or six bias incisions through half their thickness and fill each one with a slice of very green pickled gherkin; lay these strips on the largest end of the fillet, shaping them like a horseshoe, and place the fillets in a buttered sautoir; moisten with a good white wine court-bouillon (No. 39), and cover over with a sheet of strong buttered paper; bring the liquid to a boil and finish cooking in a slow oven for ten to fifteen minutes. Dress and garnish with three-quarters of an inch ball-shaped potato croquettes (No. 2782), strain the broth and reduce it to the consistency of a glaze, finishing the sauce with a good sized piece of butter, stirring it in with a wire whisk, also the juice of a lemon and chopped parsley.

For the Modern Kitchen

Ranhofer writes for a brigade with numbered sub-recipes on hand, so the two cross-references do most of the hidden work. Read them as: a white-wine poaching liquid, and small fried potato balls.

A Little History

The Epicurean (1894) is Charles Ranhofer's record of thirty-odd years as chef at Delmonico's in New York, and this entry shows the house style at its most decorative: a fillet pared into a half-heart, a second strip slashed and inlaid with green gherkin, then bent into a horseshoe and set on the plate. In classical French nomenclature the garnish names commemorate patrons and princes, and a la Conti is generally traced to the Princes de Conti, though the label was applied loosely enough by the nineteenth century that it signals little more than a particular kitchen's set piece. Striped bass gets a long run of consecutive numbers here because it was the great local fish of the New York market, taken in quantity from the Hudson and the Long Island shore. The inlaid pickle is a survival of an older ornamental tradition, closer to the carved and studded showpieces of Careme's generation than to anything a restaurant would send out today.