The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 1913

Chicken with Noodles, Macaroni, Ravioles, or Mirmidons-Braised

(Poulet Braise Soit aux Nouilles, Macaroni, Ravioles, ou Mirmidons).

Cook a chicken the same as with rice (No. 1914), roll out thin, some noodle paste bands (No. 142) two inches wide, cut it into fine shreds, plunge them into boiling, salted water and let cook for eight to ten minutes while covered; remove from the fire to drain on a sieve. Return these noodles when dry to the saucepan and add two or three spoonfuls of good bechamel (No. 409), fresh butter, grated parmesan, a bit of nutmeg and salt and pepper, then dress on a hot dish; lay the chicken on top either whole or neatly cut up, pour over its liquid reduced to a half-glaze and thickened with a little tomato sauce (No. 549). This chicken can be served exactly the same only substituting macaroni (No. 2960), ravioles (No. 2976), or mirmidons (No. 689).

For the Modern Kitchen

Ranhofer writes in cross-references, so this entry is really an assembly instruction: a braised chicken set on buttered noodles with a reduced tomato-tinted glaze. Everything you need to know is in what the numbers stand for.

A Little History

This entry comes from Charles Ranhofer's The Epicurean (1894), the enormous reference book he compiled from three decades as chef at Delmonico's in New York. Its structure explains the terseness: Ranhofer numbered some 3,500 preparations and expected a cook to hold several open at once, so a "recipe" is often just a route through the book. The dish itself is a French treatment of Italian materials, exactly the mixture Delmonico's traded on, and the fact that noodles, macaroni, ravioli and mirmidons are offered as interchangeable tells you they were understood as one category of garnish rather than as distinct dishes. "Mirmidon" is generally traced to the Myrmidons of Homer, applied in nineteenth-century French kitchens to small, numerous shapes of paste; the name went out with the technique, and the word survives now chiefly in books like this one.