The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 1607

Epigrammes of Mutton a la Jardiniere

Epigrammes de Mouton a la Jardiniere

Have eight mutton cutlets prepared as for plain (No. 1590), season, dip in eggs and bread-crumbs, equalize the bread-crumbs and fry in clarified butter or if preferred omit the breading and simply saute the cutlets plain. Braise some breast of mutton the same as for plain (No. 1585), then put them under a weight and when cold pare them into half hearts; dip these in Villeroi sauce (No. 560), and after this is cold dip them in eggs, then in bread-crumbs, immerse them in plenty of hot frying fat; when of a nice color, drain. Decorate the top of a hollow border mold with all kinds of cut up vegetables, fill the inside with quenelle forcemeat (No. 92), poach, unmold on hot dishes. Range the breasts and cutlets alternately in a circle on top of this and fill the empty center with a jardiniere (No. 677); serve an espagnole sauce (No. 414) separately after it has been reduced with the braise stock which has been strained and freed from fat, and some mushroom essence (No. 392).

For the Modern Kitchen

Ranhofer writes in shorthand, assuming you already have his braising, breading, forcemeat and sauce numbers to hand. Stripped of the cross-references, this is a two-textured mutton dish: crisp cutlets alternating with crisp breast, built around a molded forcemeat ring and a pile of dressed vegetables.

A Little History

The Epicurean (1894) is Charles Ranhofer's record of thirty-odd years as chef at Delmonico's in New York, and it is organized as a working reference rather than a book to read: nearly every recipe leans on numbered formulas elsewhere in the volume, exactly as a brigade kitchen leaned on standing preparations. Épigrammes d'agneau or de mouton belong to the classical French repertoire of the same period and are generally explained as a way of getting two cuts and two textures onto one plate, the cheap braised breast dressed up to sit as an equal beside the prime cutlet. The name has attracted a well-worn anecdote about a hostess mistaking the word for a dish, which should be treated as kitchen folklore rather than documented history. What is documented is the taste it served: an American luxury restaurant in the 1890s presented mutton not as plain roast meat but architecturally, mounted on a poached forcemeat border with a ring of glazed vegetables at the center, with the braising liquid returned to the sauce so nothing of the flavor was wasted.