The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 1886

Chickens a la Diva—Sauted

Poulets Sautes a la Diva

Choose good, medium-sized chickens of about two pounds each; draw, singe, and suppress well all the adhering feathers; detach the legs and wings leaving on the pinions and sufficient meat on the breast bones so that they are of the same size as the other four pieces. Put some butter to melt in a sautoir, and when a light brown, lay in the pieces of chicken, seasoning with salt, pepper, and powdered sweet peppers; toss without browning, and moisten with about a gill of veal blond (No. 423) to detach the glaze, and then finish cooking the chickens, moistening as quickly as the stock reduces, and when sufficiently done, dress. Add to the sauce some bechamel (No. 409) and tomato sauce (No. 549), a little tarragon vinegar, and some chopped, blanched shallot; just when ready to serve, thicken with egg-yolks, and butter; strain through a tammy, and pour it over the chickens, bestrewing the top with very green chopped parsley; garnish around with small flat chicken croquettes (No. 877), and inch and a quarter in diameter by half an inch in thickness, and between each of these lay a bordelaise crawfish (No. 1008), placing a channeled mushroom (No. 118) on top of every croquette.

For the Modern Kitchen

A Delmonico's sauté in the full nineteenth-century manner: the bird is cooked in butter and stock, and the pan liquid becomes a yolk-thickened sauce built from two other sauces in the book. The hinge is the finish, not the cooking.

A Little History

The Epicurean (1894) is Charles Ranhofer's record of his years as chef of Delmonico's in New York, a tenure spanning the 1860s to 1896, and its dedications read like a guest list — dishes named for financiers, hostesses, ambassadors and performers. "À la Diva" is often said to belong to that habit, though the recipe and the book say nothing of its naming; French restaurant cooking of the period did routinely borrow prestige from the opera house. The construction is textbook Escoffier-era practice, and predates Escoffier's own Guide Culinaire of 1903 by nine years — a sauté assembled from stock mothers already standing in the kitchen, then thickened at the last moment with yolks and butter. That cross-referencing by number is the book's signature and its difficulty: almost nothing in it can be cooked without turning to three or four other pages, which tells you it was written for a brigade with a full garde-manger behind it, not for a household cook working alone.