The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 1339

Rump of Beef a la Chatellier

Pointe de Culotte de Boeuf a la Chatellier

Pieces of boiled beef are only to be served at family dinners. Select a rump of beef weighing twenty pounds, having it exceedingly fresh; bone, roll up, and tie. Lay it in a stock pot, and moisten plentifully with broth (No. 194a); boil, skim carefully, then continue to boil slowly and regularly for five hours. After it has cooked three hours, put into a net four pounds of carrots, and two pounds of turnips (both pared and cooked cork-shaped), also one onion with five cloves in it, eight leeks, a stalk of celery, and half a parsnip; set the net containing these vegetables into the stock pot, and let cook with the beef. Blanch separately a quartered cabbage, drain, put it into a separate saucepan and moisten with some very fat broth taken from the pot; let cook for an hour, and just when ready to serve, drain the meat, untie, brush over with meat glaze (No. 402) and glaze in the oven to a fine color; garnish the ends with the drained cabbage, arrange the carrots and turnips in clusters on both sides, and at one side set some mellow potatoes (No. 2799), and at the other side some stuffed peppers (No. 2768); have a horseradish sauce (No. 478) served separately; glaze the meat once more, and serve very hot.

For the Modern Kitchen

This is French boiled beef built for a banquet table: a twenty-pound rolled rump, a netful of turned vegetables, and a lacquer of meat glaze at the end. Everything about it scales down cleanly except the timing, which belongs to the size of the piece.

A Little History

This comes from Charles Ranhofer's The Epicurean (1894), the vast record of his cooking at Delmonico's in New York, and it is essentially boeuf bouilli dressed for company. Ranhofer opens with a small social judgement -- boiled beef is for family dinners -- and then spends the rest of the entry contradicting himself with turned carrots, stuffed peppers and two coats of glaze, which is exactly how a plain pot-au-feu earned a place on a restaurant menu. The name "a la Chatellier" follows the period habit of attaching a proper name to a garnish; like many such labels in the book, it seems to identify a particular arrangement of accompaniments, though whether any specific person or place lies behind it is unclear. What the recipe really preserves is the logic of the nineteenth-century stock pot, where one large piece of meat, its broth, and its vegetables produced several courses at once, and the surrounding entries -- Rump a la Careme, Rump Bourgeoise Style -- are variations on the same economy.