The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 1260

Sheepshead a la Meissonier

Sheepshead a la Meissonier

Blanch separately one ounce of parsley root, one ounce of celery knob root, two ounces of mushrooms, two ounces of the white of leeks, all cut in fine strips, and minced onions, also blanched separately. Put three ounces of butter into a saucepan on the fire, and when hot place therein the onions, leeks, mushroom, parsley and celery roots, and fry without browning. Moisten with white wine and fish stock (No. 417). Lift the fillets from the fish, pare them neatly, and lay them in a deep buttered dish, the skin part downward; pour over the prepared stock, and cover over with another dish, then cook in the oven for fifteen to twenty minutes. Put into a saucepan, one pint of veloute (No. 415), boil, and reduce it with the stock to the consistency of a light sauce, add the vegetables, dress the fish, pour the sauce and the roots over, and bestrew the whole with very green, chopped parsley.

For the Modern Kitchen

A classic braise-and-nappe: fish fillets cooked in a covered dish with an aromatic julienne, the cooking liquor then folded into a velouté. Ranhofer assumes you have stock and sauce already on hand, so most of the work is upstream.

A Little History

The Epicurean (1894) is Charles Ranhofer's record of thirty-odd years as chef at Delmonico's in New York, and it is full of dishes named for the celebrated figures of the day. Ernest Meissonier (1815-1891) was the French painter of small, minutely detailed military and historical scenes, immensely fashionable and immensely expensive among American collectors in exactly the decades Ranhofer was cooking; naming a dish for him was a compliment to the patrons who bought such pictures as much as to the painter. The treatment itself is straightforwardly French: fillets braised under a cover with a fine julienne of root vegetables, the liquor worked into a velouté. Sheepshead was a staple of New York markets in the nineteenth century, abundant enough to give its name to Sheepshead Bay in Brooklyn, and Ranhofer devotes a long run of numbered recipes to it before local stocks thinned and it slipped out of northern kitchens.