The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 2071

Grouse, Prairie Hens or Ptarmigan, Broiled

Tetras, Poules de Prairie ou de Neige Grilles

There are two ways of preparing these birds for broiling; the first, or the one most generally employed is to cut off the feet at the first joint, also the neck, leaving the throat skin on as long as possible; split the grouse lengthwise through the back to open it entirely; remove the breastbones, flatten lightly and season with salt; dip them in oil and broil over a moderate fire, then dress on toast with clear gravy (No. 404).

Another Way is after the grouse is picked, drawn and singed, truss with the legs thrust inside, and cut them lengthwise in two, beat lightly, pare neatly, season and dip in melted butter, then in bread-crumbs and broil in a double broiler on a moderate fire, turning them when well done on one side; dressed grouse can be cooked in either of these ways, being careful not to have the broiler too tight, and when dressed they may be covered with maitre d'hotel butter (No. 581) or else have a cold tartar sauce (No. 631) served separately.

For the Modern Kitchen Do not make this as written.

Ranhofer gives two methods for the same bird: split and oiled, or split and crumbed. Both live or die on the fire, since grouse breast is very lean and turns to sawdust a few degrees past done.

A Little History

Charles Ranhofer ran the kitchen at Delmonico's in New York, and The Epicurean (1894) records what crossed those tables. That a single heading can offer grouse, prairie hen and ptarmigan interchangeably says a good deal about American markets in the last quarter of the nineteenth century: market-shot prairie chickens were shipped east from the prairie states in barrels, iced or frozen, in volume enough that they were reckoned cheap game, and ptarmigan reportedly came south from the far north in the same trade. The trade collapsed with the birds. The Lacey Act of 1900 curtailed interstate traffic in illegally taken game, state after state closed the prairie chicken season, and the greater prairie chicken is now a conservation concern across most of its range — a menu that once treated it as a commodity is a fair measure of how quickly a wild population can be eaten through. The cookery itself is older than the restaurant: splitting a small bird flat, seasoning it and setting it over coals is among the oldest ways of dealing with game, and the crumbed variation is close to the French a la diable treatment, minus the mustard that usually defines it.