The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 1473

Tripe a la Tartare

Gras-double a la Tartare

Have some well cooked honey-combed tripe; cut it into two-inch squares, put it in a bowl, seasoning it with salt, pepper, parsley and chopped onion; sprinkle over some oil and lemon juice, and let the tripe macerate in a cool place for one hour. Drain it off, and dip each piece in melted butter and fresh bread-crumbs, then broil them on a slow fire. Dress the tripe on a very hot dish, and serve at the same time, but separately, a sauce-bowl of tartar sauce.

For the Modern Kitchen

Ranhofer assumes the tripe is already cooked, which is where nearly all the work lies. Everything after that is a quick marinade, a crumb coat and a careful grilling.

A Little History

Tripe was one of the cheapest things a butcher sold and one of the most laboriously prepared, which made it a standing test of a kitchen's patience rather than its budget. Charles Ranhofer, chef at Delmonico's, gives it a full run of treatments in The Epicurean (1894) — à la mode de Caen, à la poulette, baked with Parmesan — and this one is the grilled version, made with the cut the French call gras-double, the ordinary dish of the Lyonnais bouchon, dressed up with a sauceboat. The "à la tartare" tag in nineteenth-century French cooking generally signals two things together: a breadcrumbed item grilled rather than fried, and cold tartar sauce alongside; the same formula appears applied to chicken and to pig's trotters. The name carries no real connection to Central Asian cooking; a shared origin with steak tartare is sometimes suggested, but steak tartare is itself generally held to take its name from the sauce, and the link is best treated as folk etymology.