The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 1573

Sweetbreads in Papers

Ris de Veau en Papillotes

Split some blanched, cold and pressed sweetbreads in two through their thickness; sauté them in butter seasoning with salt and pepper. Chop up one small onion and one shallot, lay them in a saucepan with melted fat pork to fry colorless, adding six ounces of chopped fresh mushrooms; reduce the moisture of these, season, and add six ounces of cooked ham cut in small one-eight inch dice; heat the whole well, then add chopped parsley. Cut heart-shaped pieces from a sheet of paper, nine inches long by five wide; oil and lay them on the table; cover one side with thin slices of fat pork or cooked ham, lay a little of the preparation on top, then a piece of sweetbread, and finish with another layer of the preparation; fold the paper three-quarters around and pour a little Madeira sauce (No. 492) through the opening and finish folding so as to enclose all hermetically; range these "papillotes" in the serving-dish, place it in the oven, basting over carefully with a little sweet oil. They should be browned, but not blackened and swollen to double their original size.

For the Modern Kitchen

Ranhofer assumes you already know the standing preparation of sweetbreads and can pull a Madeira sauce off the stove; the recipe proper is really the stuffing and the folding. A few notes make it workable in a modern kitchen.

A Little History

En papillote cooking — sealing food in a folded paper case so it steams in its own perfume — was long established in French kitchens by the time Charles Ranhofer published The Epicurean in 1894, and the heart-shaped paper cut is the classical form. Ranhofer ran the kitchens at Delmonico's in New York from 1862, in two spells with a break in the later 1870s, and dishes like this one show why the restaurant mattered: a single course carries a poached and pressed sweetbread, a duxelles, a diced ham garnish, a Madeira-based brown sauce and a paper case that has to inflate at the table. Sweetbreads themselves were a standard luxury of the period, treated in the book across a dozen or more preparations, delicate enough to justify elaborate handling. The dish belongs to a moment when American fine dining was arguing, largely through Delmonico's, that it could hold its own with Paris.