The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 2410

Aspic of Cocks'-Combs and Kidneys a la Mazarin

Aspic de Cretes et de Rognons de Coqs a la Mazarin

Braise some cocks'-combs and kidneys, and when cold drain and wipe well. Cover the combs with a white chaudfroid (No. 596), and the kidneys with a blond chaudfroid made by mixing half brown chaudfroid (No. 594) and half white chaudfroid (No. 596). Coat with jelly a plain cylindrical or channeled mold, having it rather high, and fill the bottom with the combs dressed in a ring, one overlapping the other, and cover with jelly; lay on top a garnishing of the kidneys, cover with more jelly and when this has hardened dress on some roasted chicken fillets, sliced and pared round-shaped, and covered with ravigote chaudfroid (No. 595); lay these in a circle and continue to fill up the mold, alternating the combs, kidneys and chicken; when very full let get cold and unmold on a small low socle made of stearine. Place a mandrel in the empty space in the mold, and on it a cup filled with small cases containing whole glazed truffles, and decorate around with small timbales (No. 3, Fig. 137) filled with jelly and foies-gras.

For the Modern Kitchen

This is a set-piece from the cold buffet, built in layers inside a chilled mold and meant to be looked at before it is eaten. The technique is straightforward; the sourcing and the timing are what will stop you.

A Little History

The Epicurean (1894) is Charles Ranhofer's record of what he cooked in some thirty years at Delmonico's in New York, and this dish shows the house at full stretch: three separate chaudfroids, a layered aspic, truffles in paper cases, and a carved fat plinth to raise the whole thing off the platter. Cocks' combs and rooster testicles had been prized French garnishes since at least the seventeenth century, valued for their pale colour and yielding texture rather than any strong flavour, and they turn up constantly in the ragoûts and vol-au-vents of classical cookery before falling out of Anglo-American use in the twentieth century. Garnishes styled à la Mazarin are generally traced to Cardinal Jules Mazarin, the Italian-born minister of Louis XIV, though as with most such names the connection is honorific rather than documented — nineteenth-century chefs attached the label to elaborate composed presentations, and Ranhofer is following that convention rather than reproducing anything the cardinal ate.