The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 1236

Red Snapper a la Princess

Red Snapper a la Princesse

Remove the skin from fillets of fish and cut them up into half inch thick slices; pare these into ovals, three and a half inches long by two and a quarter wide, season with salt and pepper. Lay on each oval a bed of mushroom puree (No. 722), and cover the whole with quenelle forcemeat (No. 90). Egg the surfaces, bestrew with bread-crumbs and a little parmesan, then set them in a lightly buttered sautoir; place this in the oven and when the fish is done, serve it with a separate princess sauce (No. 528).

SALMON (Saumon).

The salmon is a large fish, its weight reaching thirty pounds. The body is covered with scales, the meat is tender, thick, red colored and delicate, of an exquisite taste, but very difficult to digest. No fish has more than two pectorals, or two ventrals; may have several anals, and several dorsals; none, unless deformed or monstrous, has more than one caudal.

For the Modern Kitchen

Ranhofer writes for a brigade that already has purée, forcemeat and sauce standing by, so the entry reads as an assembly note rather than a recipe. Three components have to be made first, and the fish itself cooks in minutes.

A Little History

Charles Ranhofer ran the kitchens at Delmonico's in New York for over thirty years, and The Epicurean (1894) is essentially that restaurant's working system set down in print, which is why so many entries are one paragraph of assembly resting on a scaffold of numbered cross-references. The dish is a French construction applied to an American fish: red snapper came up from the Gulf on ice to eastern markets in the later nineteenth century and appears throughout this section, treated with the same garnitures a Paris kitchen would have given sole or turbot. Names like a la Princesse generally denote the garnish rather than any person; in nineteenth-century French practice the term is associated with asparagus, and Ranhofer's princess sauce follows that convention. The odd block of natural history about salmon and fish fins that follows the recipe is not a mistake of transcription but a feature of the book, which interleaves market notes and zoological description between its formulas.