No. 1814

Tenderloin of Pork, Blanquette or Escaloped, with Mushrooms or Truffles

Blanquette de Filet de Porc, ou Escalopes aux Champignons ou aux Truffes

Have two pounds of the tenderloin of fresh pork; pare in order to remove the sinewy skin covering it, also the fat, cut up into one and a quarter inches in diameter escalops, an eighth of an inch thick; place them as soon as ready in a liberally buttered saute-pan, and season over with salt. Cut across in slices one pound and a half of large mushroom heads; add to the meat and cover entirely with melted butter, and a round piece of paper, and when prepared to serve, place them on a brisk fire to stiffen only, turning them over to finish cooking; drain off the butter, and add in its place, a few spoonfuls of veloute sauce (No. 415) a little chicken glaze (No. 398) and lemon juice, finally thickening with egg-yolks, butter, and cream. Dress the whole on a rice border.

With Truffles.—Replace the mushrooms by fresh truffles if procurable.

← No. 1813 Tenderloin of Pork a la Printaniere Pork No. 1815 Tenderloin of Pork, Marinated →

For the Modern Kitchen

A butter-poached pork saute finished with a classic egg-yolk liaison. The technique is sound and quick; the difficulty is that Ranhofer assumes you have his sauce base and glaze already made.

The hinge: the liaison must not boilOnce the egg yolks, cream and butter go in, the sauce holds only below a simmer — roughly 175-180F. Take the pan off the heat, temper the yolks with a ladle of the hot sauce, return it and swirl until it coats a spoon. A boil scrambles it and the blanquette turns grainy.
Veloute (No. 415)A white stock roux sauce — in this book, veal or chicken stock thickened with a white roux and skimmed at length. A few spoonfuls of good chicken veloute, or a reduced chicken stock lightly thickened, does the job. It should be seasoned but not salty, since the glaze adds more.
Chicken glaze (No. 398)Chicken stock reduced to a syrupy, gelatinous glace de volaille. A teaspoon of commercial chicken demi-glace or glace concentrate is the practical equivalent; use a small amount, as it is intensely salted in most modern versions.
Butter poaching, then browningButter poaching, then a brisk finish -- The escalops sit raw in melted butter under a paper cartouche until service, then go on a "brisk fire to stiffen only" — high heat, just long enough to set, then turned to finish. At an eighth of an inch thick this is a matter of a minute or two per side. Modern pork is cooked to 145F internal with a three-minute rest; slices this thin will pass that point almost immediately, and further cooking dries them.
The cartoucheThe "round piece of paper" is a disc of parchment laid directly on the surface to keep the meat submerged and stop a skin forming. Cut it to the pan diameter.
MushroomsA pound and a half of large caps to two pounds of pork is a high ratio by modern eyes, and they will throw a great deal of water. Cremini or large white caps sliced across work; if the pan floods, drain the liquor off with the butter and reduce it separately into the sauce rather than discarding the flavour.
Rice borderA ring of firm cooked rice pressed into a buttered savarin or ring mould and turned out onto the platter, with the blanquette spooned into the centre. A plain pilaf holds its shape better than a loose steamed rice.
TrufflesFresh truffles here means winter black truffle, sliced and warmed in the sauce, not cooked hard. Jarred summer truffle is a poor stand-in; if none is available the mushroom version is the better dish.
YieldTwo pounds of trimmed tenderloin with the mushrooms and rice serves six as a course, four generously.

A Little History

Blanquette is a long-established category of French cookery, documented from the eighteenth century — a white ragout in which the meat is never browned and the sauce is finished with a liaison of egg yolk and cream — and it belongs by long tradition to veal or chicken rather than pork. Charles Ranhofer, who ran the kitchen at Delmonico's in New York for some three decades and published The Epicurean in 1894, was systematic to a fault: the book works through each meat in turn and applies the whole classical repertoire to it, which is how a pork tenderloin ends up treated as escalopes de veau. That systematic habit also explains the numbered cross-references; the book is built so that a professional brigade with veloute and glazes already standing on the stove can execute any entry in minutes. The alternative of fresh truffles "if procurable" is a fair reminder of what a Gilded Age restaurant could and could not count on in midwinter New York.