The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 1687

Lamb Cutlets a la Talma

Cotelettes d'Agneau a la Talma

Fry twelve lamb cutlets, keeping them quite rare; lay them under a light weight or in the press (No. 71) and when partly cold, pare and dip them in a rather thick, nearly cold bechamel sauce (No. 409); range them on a sheet of buttered paper and on every cutlet place a slice of foies-gras, cover this over with more bechamel and when partly cold, dredge over with bread-crumbs and trim well the cutlets, removing the excess of sauce, strew with a little parmesan cheese, pour on a little butter and brown to a fine golden color in the oven, trim the handles with a frill (No. 10) and dress in a circle filling the center with minced fresh mushrooms mingled with supreme sauce (No. 547) and lay around thin round slices of truffle pouring a little half-glaze sauce (No. 413) over these, and serve.

For the Modern Kitchen

This is a classic à la Villeroi construction under another name: cooked cutlets are jacketed in stiff sauce, crumbed and browned. The hinge is temperature — the béchamel must be cold and thick enough to hold its shape before the crumbs go on, or the coating slides off in the oven.

A Little History

The name honours François-Joseph Talma (1763–1826), the tragedian who dominated the Paris stage under Napoleon and whose name attached itself to a cloak, a hairstyle and, inevitably, a garnish — nineteenth-century kitchens named dishes after performers as readily as after generals, and Charles Ranhofer's The Epicurean (1894) is thick with them. The technique beneath the name is older than the dedication: coating cooked meat in a cold, stiff sauce, crumbing it and browning it is a method often likened to the one called à la Villeroi, a staple of French service that let a kitchen prepare cutlets hours ahead and finish them to order. Ranhofer had run the kitchen at Delmonico's in New York for decades by the time he wrote the book, and recipes like this one — foie gras, truffle, three separate sauces for twelve small cutlets — record what an American restaurant could put on a plate when labour was cheap.