The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 1639

Neck of Mutton Jugged and Marinated, Thickened with Blood

Collet de Mouton Civet Marinade Lie au Sang

Bone a neck of mutton, remove all the sinews and fat and then cut it up into one and a quarter inch square pieces; lay them in a vessel to season with salt, pepper, nutmeg, sprigs of parsley, minced onions, oil, a little vinegar, bay leaf and thyme; let marinate for two hours, then drain and wipe off the pieces. Heat four ounces of butter in a saucepan, add to it the meat and fry them well, dredge in two spoonfuls of flour and moisten with one pint of red or white wine and stock (No. 194a) in a way that the meat is covered; add a garnished bunch of parsley and leave to cook for an hour and a half, putting in half an hour before serving, some small glazed white onions and cooked mushrooms. The meat being now well done and properly seasoned, take out the parsley and thicken the sauce either with some pig's or chicken's blood, then serve.

For the Modern Kitchen Do not make this as written.

A classic civet built on mutton instead of hare: marinated, browned, stewed in wine, and finished with a blood liaison. The finish is where it succeeds or fails.

A Little History

Civet is one of the oldest surviving names in French cookery, generally traced to cive (from Latin cepa, onion), the onions that defined the medieval stew before wine and blood became its signature. By the nineteenth century a civet meant specifically a dark game ragout — hare above all, also venison and wild boar — thickened at the last moment with the animal's own blood, which gives body and a faintly metallic depth no roux imitates. Charles Ranhofer, who ran the kitchens at Delmonico's in New York for some three decades and published The Epicurean in 1894, applies the technique to butcher's mutton, a thrifty translation of a hunting dish and a reminder that neck was cheap meat treated with full professional method. He falls back on pig's or chicken's blood, presumably because a domestic sheep is bled at the abattoir, not in the kitchen — a substitution also familiar in French charcuterie.