The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 1378

Sirloin Steak for Gourmets; Extra Forty Ounces

Bifteck de Contrefilet des Gourmets; Extra Quarante Onces

Cut from a good thick sirloin of beef, slices, each one being four to five inches thick; beat to flatten them down to three inches, then trim them carefully, salt them on both sides, cover with either clarified butter or melted marrow, and place in a double gridiron and broil them over a moderate fire for twenty minutes if desired rare, twenty-six minutes to have them properly done, and thirty minutes when needed to be well done. Lay them on top of a gravy prepared as follows: Have two tablespoonfuls of finely chopped shallot, fry it colorless in three ounces of butter, add some melted glaze (No. 402), stir in four ounces of fine butter, a teaspoonful of the best tarragon vinegar, chopped parsley, a dash of cayenne pepper, and two ounces of beef marrow cut into half inch squares. When the marrow is warm, pour it on the dish, lay the extra size steak on top, glaze it with meat glaze (No. 402), and garnish around with gastronome potatoes (No. 2789).

For the Modern Kitchen

A single steak of about two and a half pounds, grilled over coals and served on a shallot-marrow butter sauce. The proportions are generous even by chophouse standards, and almost everything here hangs on how the fire is managed.

A Little History

Ranhofer's The Epicurean (1894) records the kitchen of Delmonico's in New York, and this entry belongs to the era's most conspicuous form of luxury: not a rare ingredient but sheer scale. A forty-ounce sirloin, carved for the table off a single slab, sits beside recipes for "Delmonico sirloin, Spanish style; tenderloin of beef," which show how much of the restaurant's reputation rested on American beef cooked plainly over fire. The refinement is in the sauce rather than the meat: shallot softened in butter, a spoonful of glace de viande, tarragon vinegar and diced marrow. There is no wine here, so it is not a beurre marchand de vin, and what resemblance it bears to a bordelaise rests on the marrow alone. Marrow is often said to have been ordinary and cheap then, a byproduct of a butcher's counter that broke down whole animals; its return to menus as a delicacy is a fairly recent reversal.