The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 1671

Lamb Cutlets a la Catalane

Cotelettes d'Agneau a la Catalane

Cut off twelve lamb cutlets; pare them with the bones quite short, beat them flat, salt over and roll in oil, range them on a broiler all one way, and broil the chops on a brisk fire on one side only. Reduce one pint of bechamel (No. 409) adding to it a few spoonfuls of mushroom broth, and when nicely thickened stir in some prepared red pepper (No. 168), four spoonfuls of cooked mushrooms, the same quantity of cooked lean ham, both well chopped separately, and let this preparation become cold. Cover the cooked sides with a layer of the preparation, having it dome-shaped on top; bestrew with grated parmesan, then lay them on a buttered sautoir and pour butter over; set this for one instant on top of the range, then finish cooking the cutlets in a hot oven and have the preparation well browned; remove them at once to garnish the handles with frills (No. 10) and dress with a half-glaze (No. 413) and tomato sauce (No. 549) containing shredded sweet peppers.

For the Modern Kitchen

A Ranhofer construction that only works if the coating is stiff and cold before it goes on the meat. Everything else is timing.

A Little History

Charles Ranhofer published The Epicurean in 1894 after decades as chef at Delmonico's in New York, and the lamb chapter is a catalogue of the same cut dressed a dozen ways for a restaurant that changed its card daily. "A la catalane" in nineteenth-century French kitchen usage generally signals Catalonia by way of its sweet red peppers and tomato, though what the label actually meant varied from chef to chef; here it amounts to paprika, sweet peppers and tomato sauce grafted onto a thoroughly Parisian technique. That technique -- masking a part-cooked cutlet with a stiff cold sauce, breading or cheesing it and finishing it in fierce heat -- is the same family as cotelettes a la Maintenon and the several Villeroi preparations, and it is often said to suit a kitchen that part-cooks chops in a slack hour and finishes them to order. The paper frill on the bone, listed in the book as its own numbered item, tells you the plate was meant to be looked at before it was eaten.