The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 2212

Border of Risot Valenciennes

Bordure de Risot Valenciennes

Blanch and cook six beef palates in a good mirepoix stock (No. 419), drain and leave them to cool under a weight, pare and cut up into large Julienne; lay these in a sautoir with three gills of Madeira sauce, simmer on a slow fire for a quarter of an hour, and when very tender add half the quantity of freshly cooked truffles cut like the fillets. Have a good risot prepared with about a half pound of Piedmontese rice (No. 739); as soon as done remove and mix in one spoonful of sweet Spanish pepper reduced to a pulp; cover the saucepan and keep it for five to six minutes on the side of the range and then finish with butter and grated parmesan; season to taste. With this rice fill a buttered border mold, as shown in the cut, place it for a few moments in the heater to harden, then unmold it on a dish and fill the center with beef palate preparation; serve at once.

For the Modern Kitchen

A ring of risotto molded and turned out, filled with braised beef palate in Madeira sauce. The rice is the easy half; the filling requires either a sympathetic butcher or a substitution.

A Little History

Ranhofer ran the kitchen at Delmonico's in New York, and The Epicurean (1894) is essentially the house repertory written down "e2"80"94 which is why it contains dozens of "borders," molded rings of rice, forcemeat or potato used to frame a ragout on a platter. The style belongs to the grand nineteenth-century restaurant, where a dish arrived architecturally composed on its platter. "Risot" is Ranhofer's spelling of risotto, and the Valenciennes label is often said to attach in period French cookery to rice dishes tinted and flavored with sweet pepper or tomato, borrowing loosely from Spanish rice cookery rather than from the French city "e2"80"94 though that derivation is traditional rather than documented. The beef palate filling is the more telling detail: an organ cut that a modern American cook would have to hunt for was, in the 1890s, cheap enough to be a thrifty foil to truffles and Madeira on the same plate.