No. 1653

Shoulder of Mutton with Rice

Epaule de Mouton au Riz

Cut into small two inch squares a shoulder of young mutton; put them into a saucepan with hot butter, and let fry on a brisk fire until they take a color; season, and add a few spoonfuls of raw ham cut in dice, and a bunch of parsley garnished with one bay leaf, as much thyme and a clove of garlic. Fry all together for a few moments, then moisten to their heighth with stock (No. 194a), and half a pint of tomato sauce (No. 549); when the liquid has boiled for five minutes remove the saucepan on a more moderate fire, and when the meats are partially or three-quarters done, put in a sufficient quantity of rice corresponding to the volume of the third of the liquid; cook this rice for fifteen minutes, then set the saucepan into a slow oven to finish cooking both rice and meat. Pour the stew into a vegetable dish and serve.

← No. 1652 Shoulder of Mutton with Potatoes Mutton No. 1654 Shoulder of Mutton with Turnips →

For the Modern Kitchen

Ranhofer writes for a professional brigade with stock and sauces already made, so most of the work here is deciding what to substitute for his cross-references. The dish is a braise that finishes as a pilaf, and the proportion of rice to liquid is the part to get right.

The hinge: rice to liquid"A sufficient quantity of rice corresponding to the volume of the third of the liquid" means rice equal to one-third the volume of braising liquid in the pan at that moment — roughly 1 cup rice to 3 cups liquid. Measure it rather than eyeballing; too much rice and the pan goes dry and scorches before the mutton is done.
"Moisten to their heighth"Add liquid until it is level with the top of the meat, no deeper. The half pint of tomato sauce is a cup; the wording leaves it open whether it counts within that level or goes in on top of it, but treating it as part of the total is the safer reading.
Stock No. 194a and tomato sauce No. 549Both are cross-references to recipes elsewhere in the book and are not given here. For No. 194a a good unsalted chicken or veal broth stands in. No. 549 is a made tomato sauce rather than ketchup or passata; a smooth, well-reduced tomato sauce is the nearest thing, and season lightly since it will concentrate.
Raw ham"Raw ham" is uncooked cured ham in the prosciutto or jambon cru sense, cut in small dice for seasoning. The recipe says only "a few spoonfuls"; account for its salt before you salt the meat.
The bouquet"A bunch of parsley garnished with one bay leaf, as much thyme and a clove of garlic" is a bouquet garni — tie it so it can be pulled out before the rice goes in.
Oven temperatureThe recipe calls for a slow oven and gives no temperature or finishing time; a low oven in the modern sense is the working equivalent. The meat should already be nearly tender when the rice is added, and the pan goes in until both are done.
The cutShoulder of young mutton translates comfortably to lamb shoulder, bone-in or boneless, cut in two-inch pieces. Bone-in gives better body to the liquid but makes the finished dish awkward to eat from a vegetable dish; boneless is easier.
YieldThe recipe gives no quantities beyond the rice-to-liquid ratio; a shoulder of about three pounds with the corresponding rice will serve roughly six as a main course.

A Little History

Charles Ranhofer published The Epicurean in 1894 after some thirty years as chef at Delmonico's in New York, and the mutton chapter runs through shoulder after shoulder — with potatoes, with rice, with turnips — because the shoulder was the cheap, slow-cooking end of the animal. Mutton here means a sheep older than lamb, with a stronger flavour that the tomato, garlic and cured ham are there to meet; the near-disappearance of mutton from English-speaking markets over the twentieth century is why the recipe reads as archaic now, though the method does not. Rice cooked in the braising liquid of the meat it accompanies is a technique with versions all round the Mediterranean, and Ranhofer's French title notwithstanding, the raw ham, garlic and tomato might suggest to a modern reader something closer to Provence or Spain than to Paris, though that is a reading rather than a documented origin.