The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 2163

Thrushes a la Bianca

Grives a la Bianca

Have as many birds as guests; pick, singe and remove the gizzard, pouch and intestines and fill the inside of each one with Spanish olives stuffed with anchovies, finishing to fill up the empty space with lightly melted fresh butter. Cut as many oval croutons as there are birds, having them three inches long by one and three-quarters wide and halt an inch thick; slit them all around a quarter of an inch high and three-sixteenths of an inch from the edge; take out the inside and place a bird in this hollow; lay them in a sautéing pan the bottom covered with a bed of clarified butter and put it on the hot fire; as soon as the butter is well heated push it into the oven and after the croutons are colored and the thrushes well cooked, take them out and drain them from the butter on a cloth, then range in a circle on a dish and fill the inside with a garnishing made of minced mushrooms and truffles mingled with half-glaze (No. 400), a tablespoonful of good olive oil and the juice of half a lemon; pour this sauce over all and serve.

For the Modern Kitchen Do not make this as written.

This is a dish for a bird that can no longer legally be bought, sold or shot in the United States or across most of Europe, and the reasons are legal and ecological rather than culinary.

A Little History

The Epicurean (1894) is Charles Ranhofer's record of thirty-odd years as chef at Delmonico's in New York, and its game chapters are a frank inventory of what a fashionable American restaurant could buy in the 1880s: canvasback duck, plover, reed birds, and thrushes by the dozen. Eating small migratory birds whole, bones and all, was long established in France and Italy — the ortolan is the notorious survivor of that tradition — and Ranhofer brought the practice with him along with the classical repertoire. The suffix à la Bianca may well follow the common practice of attaching a patron's or performer's name to a garnish, though the book gives no explanation, and a number of his titles seem to honor people whose identities are now lost. The anchovy-stuffed Spanish olive inside each bird and the olive oil finishing the sauce mark this out as one of his Italian-leaning compositions. Within a generation of publication the dish was illegal in the country where it was served, which makes the page a useful marker of how quickly a restaurant staple can become a historical document.