The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 1786

Pigs' Feet with Truffles, Perigord

Pieds de Cochon aux Truffes du Perigord

Cook the feet the same as when prepared for broiled (No. 1784), let them get partially cold in their stock, then drain, unwrap and cut each one in two lengthwise; bone every one of the halves properly, season with salt and mignonette and fill all their insides with a stuffing of pork and chopped truffles, with a quarter as much fine liver baking forcemeat (No. 81). Smooth the surface of this dressing and cover it over with slices of raw truffles; wrap each half foot in a square of soaked and well dried "crepinette" or caul fat, brush over with butter or melted lard, and dip them in bread-crumbs; broil for twenty minutes over a moderate fire, then dress on a hot dish with a little gravy (No. 404) added.

For the Modern Kitchen

Ranhofer writes for a brigade with a larder of cross-referenced preparations behind it; the whole dish hinges on work done elsewhere in the book. Read the two referenced numbers before starting, because nothing here works without them.

A Little History

Charles Ranhofer put this in The Epicurean (1894) as one of a short run of pigs' feet preparations, immediately after No. 1785, "Pigs Feet Truffled" — a reminder that in a nineteenth-century luxury kitchen the cheapest cut in the shop and the most expensive fungus in Europe belonged on the same plate. Crumbed and grilled pigs' feet are generally traced to Sainte-Menehould in Champagne, and boned and stuffed versions to the charcuterie traditions of Lyon; the word crepinette is used here, as Ranhofer uses it, for the caul itself, and also came to mean the small flat forcemeat parcel wrapped in it. Ranhofer, who cooked at Delmonico's in New York for over thirty years, was working a standard French technique — long cooking, bone out, stuff, wrap, grill — and simply raising it into the truffle season by naming Perigord. That the labour of boning four feet by hand went unremarked tells you as much about the staffing of a great restaurant kitchen of the 1890s as the truffles do about its clientele.