The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 1695

Epigrammes of Lamb, Ancient Style

Epigrammes d'Agneau a l'Ancienne

Braise two breasts of lamb (No. 1694); drain and take out the bones reserving them to use later for imitating handles; let the meat get cold under a weight to reduce to half an inch, then pare nicely by suppressing the skin and cutting them up into half heart-shapes, season with salt and pepper and cover over entirely with Duxelle sauce (No. 461). When cold bread-crumb them in eggs. Scrape the reserve bones, sharpen one end and insert one in each half heart. For eight pieces of breast have eight covered cutlets, pare them nicely, season and broil or fry, then glaze them over with a brush. Brown the breasts in a sautoir with very hot clarified butter, when done drain and decorate the handles with frills (No. 10), also those of the cutlets and dress them in a circle, intercalating the breasts with the cutlets. Reduce some white wine veloute (No. 415) with mushroom broth and add to it a garnishing of quenelles and mushrooms; range this garnishing in the middle of the circle and decorate around with small glazed lamb's sweebreads.

For the Modern Kitchen

Ranhofer writes for a brigade with a stockpot already going, and this entry leans on four other numbered recipes. Read it as an assembly plan: the real work is braising and pressing the breasts a day ahead.

A Little History

Épigramme d'agneau is one of the oldest surviving jokes in French cookery, and the joke has long since worn away. The name is generally traced to eighteenth-century France and an anecdote — told in many versions and documented in none — about a hostess who heard epigrams praised at another table and instructed her cook to send some up. Whatever the origin, by the nineteenth century the term had a fixed technical meaning: breast of lamb braised, pressed, crumbed and fried, plated alongside grilled cutlets so that one animal appeared in two textures. Charles Ranhofer, chef at Delmonico's in New York for more than thirty years, published The Epicurean in 1894 as a complete working system — some 3,500 numbered recipes that refer to one another rather than repeat themselves — and this entry is a good example of the method. Calling it à l'ancienne in 1894 signalled that the dish was already old-fashioned then: the false bone handles and paper frills belonged to a style of service that survived at Delmonico's, perhaps because its customers expected it.