The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 2120

Plovers Roasted a la Martel—Larded

Pluviers Piques Rotis a la Martel

After being drawn, or simply after removing the gizzard, for they are frequently roasted the same as woodcock without drawing, only trussed and larded with fine lardings of pork (No.4, Fig.52); try their intestines with melted fat pork and a few good chicken livers, chopped truffles and cognac to make a preparation the same as described for woodcock canapés (No.2205), and with it cover some oblong crusts. Glaze and heat them at the oven door and serve with the birds on these. Have a separate colbert sauce (No.451) finished with cayenne butter (No.571).

For the Modern Kitchen Do not make this as written.

This is a professional kitchen's roast of a wild shorebird, and the bird itself is the obstacle. The points below explain why the dish cannot be reproduced rather than how to reproduce it.

A Little History

The Epicurean (1894) is Charles Ranhofer's record of thirty-odd years as chef at Delmonico's in New York, and this entry belongs to a long run of small-bird cookery — quail, snipe, woodcock, reed birds, plovers — that a nineteenth-century American luxury restaurant could take entirely for granted. Shorebirds were shot commercially in enormous numbers on the Atlantic flyway and sold by the dozen in city markets; golden and black-bellied plovers appear on period menus as routinely as squab does now. The signature detail here, roasting undrawn and working the trail into a forcemeat spread on a crust, is the classic French treatment of woodcock, held to concentrate the bird's flavour, and Ranhofer simply extends it to plover. Within a generation that supply chain was gone: the Lacey Act of 1900 curtailed interstate trade in illegally taken game, and the Migratory Bird Treaty Act of 1918 ended market hunting of shorebirds outright. Pages like this one are among the clearest evidence of what the dining rooms were eating beforehand. The "a la Martel" tag is one of hundreds of such garnish names in the book; like most of them, its origin is not documented.