Ranhofer writes in shorthand: this entrée exists only as a variation on No. 2269, so the cook is expected to have the base preparation, the half-glaze and the poivrade already at hand. Read it as an assembly instruction rather than a standalone recipe.
- What a squab cutlet isNot a chop. The breasts are lifted from young pigeons, trimmed to a cutlet shape, and a small wing or leg bone is often left in or inserted to mimic the handle. A squab dresses out at roughly a pound, giving two cutlets; the recipe itself specifies no yield or portion.
- The hinge: the glazeEverything here depends on reducing Madeira with the half-glaze until it films the garnish rather than pooling around it. Cook it down over moderate heat in a wide pan, uncovered, and stop when a spoon drawn through leaves a clean track. Past that point the sugars in the Madeira turn bitter.
- Half-glazeNo. 400 is demi-glace: brown stock and espagnole reduced together. A well-reduced homemade veal stock, thick enough to be syrupy when cool, stands in adequately. Commercial glace de viande diluted with stock is a working substitute, but salt it only at the end.
- Cock's combsThe braised comb of a rooster, blanched, peeled of its outer skin and simmered until gelatinous, was a standard 19th-century garnish and is now hard to source outside specialist butchers. A glazed button mushroom cap or, as the parent recipe has it, a slice of truffle gives the same visual accent.
- Poivrade sauceNo. 522 is a peppery brown sauce built on mirepoix, vinegar and crushed peppercorns, strained and finished with half-glaze. The pepper should go in near the end of the reduction; long boiling makes it harsh rather than aromatic. Serve it in a boat, as directed, not over the cutlets.
- Cooking the breastsSquab breast is dark, lean and best kept rosy at the centre. This entry gives no method, deferring to No. 2269; cooked through the meat goes dry and livery.
- TrufflesFresh black truffle in the sauce is the intent. Preserved truffle peelings, added off the heat, are the practical version; truffle oil is not, since heat and the reduction will flatten it to nothing.
The name points to Louis-Gabriel Suchet, made Duc d'Albufera by Napoleon after his campaigns in Spain, and the string of dishes carrying the title is, by culinary tradition rather than documented record, often said to come from Carême's circle and the Napoleonic-era kitchens that supplied the marshalate. Curiously, the classic sauce Albufera -- a suprême enriched with meat glaze and pimento butter -- does not appear here at all; Ranhofer keeps only the aristocratic label and the glazed cock's-comb garnish, combs being a standard component of the classic Albufera garnish. That is characteristic of The Epicurean (1894), in which Charles Ranhofer set down some 3,500 numbered preparations from thirty years at Delmonico's in New York, cross-referenced like a legal code so that a brigade could build one entrée out of three others already in the larder. The cock's comb itself tells you how thoroughly a nineteenth-century professional kitchen used the whole bird, and how much of that vocabulary has since dropped out of use.