The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 1230

Porgies, Paupiettes Hindostan (paupiettes de Porgies a l'Indostan

Remove the fillets and skin from the fish; pare to the size of one and three-quarters inches to four inches, and season with salt, nutmeg and pepper; then coat the flesh side with a thin layer of fish quenelle forcemeat (No. 90), to which has been added cooked fine herbs (No. 385). Roll them up into cork-shaped pieces and set them in buttered tin cylinders; lay these in a sautoir, moisten with mirepoix stock (No. 419), sprinkle over with butter, and set them in the oven for a few moments simply to stiffen the fish; remove, unmold, dip in egg, and roll in white bread-crumbs, then run an iron skewer through, and dip each one in melted butter, and broil them for fifteen to twenty minutes over a very low fire. Dress them on a stand made with rice and saffron, surround with sliced lemon, each slice being cut across in two, and serve separately an espagnole sauce (No. 414), mixed with curry and buttered with cayenne butter (No. 571).

For the Modern Kitchen

A Ranhofer construction piece: fish fillets lined with mousseline forcemeat, rolled, set in molds, crumbed and grilled. Most of the work is in the cross-references, which the original assumes you have at hand.

A Little History

Charles Ranhofer wrote The Epicurean (1894) out of some thirty years at Delmonico's, and this dish shows the house style at its most characteristic: a cheap local fish given the full French treatment. Porgy — scup, from the Narragansett mishcup — was one of the most abundant and least prestigious fish on the New York market, and is often said to have been sold by the barrel and fried whole. Turning it into paupiettes with quenelle forcemeat, skewered, crumbed and grilled, is precisely the sort of transformation that justified the bill. The "Hindostan" label marks the curry in the espagnole and the saffron in the rice, an Anglo-French convention of the period in which a single spice was enough to name a dish for a country; the sauce underneath remains an entirely classical French one. Curried fish had reached American hotel menus largely by way of British India and the Anglo-Indian cooking that came with it, and by the 1890s a curry-tinted brown sauce was probably familiar enough in a large restaurant kitchen to be no kind of novelty.