The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 2111

Pheasant with Truffles—Larded

Faisan Pique aux Truffes

Break the breastbone of a clean pheasant to facilitate the removal of the bone, and fill up the empty space with baking forcemeat (No.81) mixed with a little raw forcemeat (No.91), and raw, chopped truffles added; sew the skin underneath the breast and truss with the legs pushed in the thigh; this is done by removing the drumstick and pushing the leg bone back into this space; put the pheasant in a narrow saucepan lined with fat pork, salt over and besprinkle with melted butter. Cook for forty-five minutes while covered, basting over frequently, and lastly glaze it, then drain. Untruss it on a rice foundation (Fig. 9a) poached on a dish and surround this with round, peeled truffles cooked in wine; pour into the bottom of the dish a few spoonfuls of brown sauce (No.414) reduced with the truffle liquid and a few spoonfuls of Madeira wine. Accompany this entree with a sauce-boatful of the same sauce.

For the Modern Kitchen

Ranhofer's pheasant is a poêlé — a bird cooked covered in butter and pork fat in a tight pan, somewhere between roasting and braising. Most of the work is in the boning and stuffing; the cooking itself is short and needs watching.

A Little History

The Epicurean (1894) is Charles Ranhofer's record of thirty-odd years as chef at Delmonico's in New York, and it reads like a working kitchen's index rather than a book for home cooks — hence the numbered cross-references to forcemeats and sauces made in bulk elsewhere in the house. Pheasant with truffles was standard luxury game cookery of the period: the bird is lean and inclined to dryness, so the classic treatments all involve fat, enclosure and short cooking, while the truffle supplied the aroma that the bird itself lacks. The pairing is generally traced to French practice, where truffles were slipped under the skin a day ahead so the scent could penetrate the flesh. The rice socle is a reminder that a Delmonico's entree was as much architecture as food; such plinths, sometimes of rice, sometimes of carved fat or bread, went out with the elaborate service that required them.