The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 142

Noodle Paste, Noodle Paste for Borders and Repere Paste for Fastening

Pate a Nouilles, Pate a Nouilles pour Bordures et a Repere pour Coller

Noodle Paste.—Make a ring on the table with a pound of sifted flour, in the center lay a pinch of salt, a tablespoonful of tepid water and five beaten eggs; mix the eggs in slowly with the flour and then wrap the paste in a cloth, leave it to rest for fifteen minutes and afterward knead it well to have it smooth; this requires some time to do.

Noodle Paste for Borders.—The same preparation as for the above, the only difference being that the five whole eggs are replaced by ten yolks. This paste can also be used for covering dish bottoms.

Paste for Fastening on Borders (Repere).—This is simply sifted flour diluted with beaten egg and passed through a fine wire sieve to obtain a sufficiently liquid paste that can be pushed through a cornet. It should be consistent enough not to run.

For the Modern Kitchen

Three related flour-and-egg pastes from Ranhofer's toolkit: one to eat, one to shape into decorative borders, and one that is essentially edible cement. The first is a straightforward rich egg noodle dough; the third was never meant to be tasted.

A Little History

The Epicurean (1894) is Charles Ranhofer's account of some three decades running the kitchens at Delmonico's in New York, and its "Elementary Methods" chapter reads like a workshop inventory rather than a cookbook: stocks, forcemeats, and a run of pastes numbered one after another for use elsewhere in the book. Nouilles is generally traced to the German Nudel, and egg noodles are often said to have reached French cooking by way of Alsace, where they remain a standard garnish for braised meats and game. That a single entry covers noodles for eating, a yolk-rich paste for molded borders, and a flour-and-egg cement for sticking those borders to a platter says a good deal about nineteenth-century grand cuisine, where a dish's architecture, the socles and bordures that raised food into a centerpiece, mattered nearly as much as its flavor. Much of that scaffolding was structural rather than appetizing, and it vanished from restaurant practice as service moved from the platter to the plate.