The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 1717

Loin of Yearling Lamb, German Style

Longe d'Agneau Tardif a l'Allemande

Take a loin of yearling lamb, or the part beginning from the top of the leg and extending as far as the first rib on the rack; remove the aitchbone without injuring the minion fillet, pare carefully the fat from the interior, and remove the tough skin from the sirloin, season with pepper, salt and nutmeg. Roll this loin up, tie it firmly and then braise it in a mirepoix stock (No. 419) with a little brandy added. It will take two hours and a half to three hours to cook; drain, untie and set it under a light weight or under the press (No. 71) and when cold cut the meat into half heart-shaped slices and dress them in a circle on a baking dish, cover over with an allemande sauce (No. 407), besprinkle with bread-crumbs and a little grated parmesan cheese, pour butter over and set the dish in a moderate oven. When it has attained a fine color, withdraw from the oven and drain off the butter, garnish the center with minced truffles and mushrooms mixed with some lighter allemande sauce (No. 407).

For the Modern Kitchen

Ranhofer's cross-references assume you own the whole book; the dish is really a two-day project — braise and press the loin one day, slice and gratinate the next.

A Little History

The recipe comes from Charles Ranhofer's The Epicurean (1894), the vast compendium of the kitchen he ran at Delmonico's in New York, and it shows the classical French habit of building a second dish out of a first: a large braised joint is pressed cold, sliced, sauced and gratinated, which both stretched an expensive cut and let the kitchen fire orders quickly at service. The name is a piece of French sauce vocabulary rather than a claim about German cooking à l'allemande in this period signals the pale velouté finished with egg yolks and lemon, said to be called German simply for its blondness beside the brown sauces. That name is often said to have fallen out of favour in French kitchens during and after the First World War, when it was supposedly relabelled sauce parisienne, though the change is more tradition than documented fact. The reliance on truffles, parmesan and a mirepoix laced with brandy for what is essentially reheated cold lamb is characteristic of Ranhofer's restaurant: nothing left plain that could be dressed.