The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 1478

Tripe with Cooked Fine Herbs

Gras-double aux Fines Herbes Cuites

Take some white, fresh, and well-cooked tripe; cut it into strips of one and a half by one inch, and fry them in butter. Fry separately in butter some chopped onions and shallots, some chopped fresh mushrooms, and when the latter have evaporated their moisture, add half as much chopped truffles as there are mushrooms, then put in the tripe, seasoning it all with salt, pepper, a little lemon juice, some meat glaze and a very little tomato puree, sprinkle over some chopped parsley.

VEAL (Veau).

For the Modern Kitchen

Ranhofer assumes the tripe has already been through the long preliminary boil that any nineteenth-century kitchen took for granted, so the whole dish here is a fifteen-minute sauté. Everything depends on that assumption being true.

A Little History

Charles Ranhofer put this in The Epicurean (1894) among the beef entries because tripe is beef offal, though in a Delmonico's context it was less a peasant survival than a demonstration of range: a chef who could serve terrapin and canvasback could also turn the cheapest cut in the market into something worth a place on the menu. Fines herbes cuites is often described as a specific French formula rather than a loose sprinkle of green stuff, essentially a duxelles base of onion, shallot and mushroom cooked down dry, with the parsley added raw at the end; the same preparation is said to underlie a number of nineteenth-century dishes labelled aux fines herbes. Tripe cookery of this kind belongs to the same French provincial tradition as the Norman tripes à la mode de Caen, a long braise in which the softening of the stomach lining happens in the dish itself. The truffles are the giveaway that this is the Delmonico's version and not the bistro one.