The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 1677

Lamb Cutlets, Leverrier

Cotelettes d'Agneau a la Leverrier

Broil some well pared, first cut cutlets; have as many one and three-quarter inch diameter tin rounds with slightly raised edges; butter and decorate the bottoms with a star each point of which should be formed one half of tongue and the other half of truffle. Cover the cutlets with a layer of forcemeat and place them in buttered bottomless cutlet shaped molds, so that the cutlet is enveloped in forcemeat and fills them up entirely; smooth well the surface and then turn over on the widest part, the star decorated tin round, so that the decoration is exactly on the kernel. Put them for a few moments into a moderate oven and after the forcemeat is poached, lift off both the tin round and the mold molding the chop. Pare some artichoke bottoms two inches in diameter, season and fry them in butter, then dress them flat in a circle and lay a cutlet on top of each; trim the handles with frills (No. 10), pour a little half-glaze (No. 400) in the bottom of the dish and serve separately a half-glaze sauce (No. 413) with orange juice and butter added at the last moment.

For the Modern Kitchen

An 1894 chaud-froid-adjacent presentation piece: each broiled cutlet is jacketed in forcemeat, poached in a mold, and stamped with a star of tongue and truffle. The work is all in the assembly, and the hinge is the forcemeat.

A Little History

The Epicurean was Charles Ranhofer's summary of thirty-odd years as chef at Delmonico's in New York, published in 1894, and its lamb chapter is a catalogue of garnishes bearing the names of patrons, singers and public figures. The star decoration here strongly suggests the French astronomer Urbain Le Verrier, whose calculations located Neptune in 1846 and who was a considerable celebrity in the mid-century press — though Ranhofer, characteristically, explains none of his dedications, so the connection is an inference rather than a documented one. What the recipe shows plainly is the logic of high nineteenth-century restaurant cooking: a plain broiled chop is treated as raw material for architecture, sheathed in forcemeat, mounted on a fried artichoke bottom, inlaid with truffle, and sauced separately so the decoration is never obscured. Dishes of this kind were the reason a kitchen employed a dozen cooks and kept a drawer of tin cutters in graduated sizes.