The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 1667

Carbonade of Lamb a la Rambuteau

Carbonade d'Agneau a la Rambuteau

Bone entirely, or else remove the aitchbone only, from a loin of lamb; suppress all the fat and sinews, also the skin that covers the sirloin and lard with medium-sized larding pork (No. 3, Fig. 52) and season with salt, pepper and fine herbs; roll the flap over and tie. Line a saucepan with bardes of fat pork, lay the carbonade on top and moisten to its height with mirepoix stock (No. 419); and white wine boil, then simmer in the oven for two and a half to three hours; glaze, untie, dress on a long dish and garnish around with small glazed onions, mushroom heads and potato balls. Strain the stock, free it of fat and reduce it with as much veloute (No. 415), thicken with raw egg-yolks, fresh butter and lemon juice; strain it once more through a tammy, and use part of it to cover the garnishings, sending the remainder to the table separately.

For the Modern Kitchen Do not make this as written.

Ranhofer writes for a brigade with stocks and sauces already standing on the range, so most of the work here is assembling components the original assumes you have. The hinge is the finish: once the egg yolks go into the reduced sauce it must never come back to a boil.

A Little History

A carbonade originally meant meat grilled over coals, from Italian carbonata, but by the nineteenth century French kitchens had stretched the word to cover a rolled, larded and braised joint like this one, and it survives in yet another sense in the Flemish beer stew carbonnade flamande. The garnish name honours Claude-Philibert Barthelot, comte de Rambuteau, prefect of the Seine in the 1830s and 1840s, whose name was attached to dishes in the same decorative way as Soubise; Charles Ranhofer, chef at Delmonico's in New York and author of The Epicurean (1894), inherited this vocabulary wholesale from the Parisian kitchens he trained in and reproduced it for a New York clientele that expected French labels on the menu. The recipe is a fair picture of what that expectation cost: a boned loin, a mirepoix stock, a velout hree separate glazed garnishes, all cross-referenced by number to other pages, because a book of this kind was written less for a household cook than for a professional working inside a system.