The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 1795

Kernel of Pork a la Cavour and with Noodles—Sliced

Tranches de Noix de Porc a la Cavour et aux Nouilles

Cut from the kernel part of a young, fresh pig, some slices to weigh four ounces each, beat to flatten to half an inch in thickness, then trim them round-shaped; they should now weigh three ounces each; season with salt, pepper, and nutmeg, saute them rare. Reduce some thick espagnole (No. 414); add to it fine cooked herbs (No. 385), and let it get cold; cover both sides of the slices with this and roll them in bread-crumbs, then immerse in beaten eggs and roll in bread-crumbs for the second time; smooth the breading nicely and fry in clarified butter. Have a spaghetti garnishing containing shredded mushrooms, clear gravy (No. 414), and ready prepared tomato paste, to be found at Italian grocers, and grated parmesan; pour this macaroni on a dish and dress the slices of pork on top. These slices may also be dressed on top of a garnishing of noodles fried in butter, and serve a tomato sauce (No. 549) and half-glaze sauce (No. 413) separately.

For the Modern Kitchen

Ranhofer's method is a two-stage cook: the pork is seared rare, coated in a cold reduced sauce that sets like a paste, breaded twice, then fried. The sauce layer is the point of the dish, and it only works if it is properly cold and stiff.

A Little History

Charles Ranhofer put this in The Epicurean (1894), the enormous record of his cooking at Delmonico's in New York, and it shows the house style exactly: a French cut and a French sauce technique, an Italian garnish, and a name borrowed from a nineteenth-century celebrity. Camillo Benso, Count of Cavour, the Piedmontese statesman central to Italian unification, gave his name to a small family of dishes in the period, and garnishes styled à la Cavour generally carry an Italian marker — polenta, pasta, parmesan, tomato. The construction here works much like the à la Villeroi trick applied to pork: meat masked in a stiff cold sauce, breaded and fried, so the sauce is sealed inside the crust rather than served round it. The analogy is with the method rather than the sauce itself, since a true sauce Villeroi is a white, velouté- or allemande-based preparation while this dish uses a brown espagnole. The offhand note that tomato paste is "to be found at Italian grocers" is a useful piece of dating — in 1890s Manhattan it was an ethnic-market item, not a pantry staple, and Ranhofer expected his readers to send out for it.