The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 1538

Neck of Veal au Blanc

Cou de Veau au Blanc

Have three pounds of the neck of veal, without sinews, cut in pieces three inches long by one and a quarter wide, parboil, drain, then throw them into cold water; when cool, drain again and pare them into equal sized pieces. Put a quarter of a pound of butter into a saucepan with a quarter of a pound of unsmoked bacon; let this fry lightly, then add the veal and fry together to a fine color; besprinkle with four spoonfuls of flour, and brown it slightly with the meat, then moisten with stock (No. 194a), season with salt, whole peppers, a garnished bunch of parsley with thyme and bay leaf and two cloves; cook for two hours before adding sixty small onions, and continue the cooking until both the onions and meat are done; now transfer the onions and meat into another saucepan with about thirty medium-sized cooked mushrooms. Skim the fat from the sauce; reduce and season it properly, thicken it with three egg-yolks diluted in a little cream, and finish with fresh butter and lemon juice; strain through a tammy, pour it over the meat, kept warm in a bain-marie until needed. Dress the meat, with the onions and mushrooms around and pour the sauce over the whole.

For the Modern Kitchen

A veal fricassée in all but name, built on the classic garnish of glazed baby onions and mushrooms. The liaison at the end is the part that will fail if rushed.

A Little History

This is No. 1538 in Charles Ranhofer's The Epicurean (1894), the enormous compendium he assembled after some thirty years as chef at Delmonico's in New York. In the French kitchen of his training, veal ragouts divided into au brun and au blanc, the latter finished with a yolk-and-cream liaison rather than a browned sauce — the same family as the blanquette de veau, which was already a bourgeois standard by the mid-nineteenth century. The garnish of small onions and button mushrooms is the classic garniture à l'ancienne, and the choice of neck rather than a costly loin shows the practical side of a great restaurant kitchen: a gelatinous, well-worked cut that rewards slow cooking and, once masked in a pale sauce, arrives at the table looking as fine as anything from the saddle.