The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 2449

Cases of Thrushes with Jelly-Small

Petites Caisses de Grives a la Gelee

For this entree have a border of jelly the center being filled with a round piece of wood of the same diameter and height as the border and covered with white paper. Bone eight thrushes, spread them out on the table and season; fill them with a fine game forcemeat (No. 91), some foies-gras and truffles made into balls. Cover them with a band of paper to hold them in a round shape, then range them on the bottom of a small sautoir covered with fat pork, putting them quite close to one another; salt over and moisten to nearly their height with a good unskimmed stock (No. 194a), and cover over with more fat pork; boil up the liquid, then withdraw the saucepan and put on the lid. Cook the boned birds for three-quarters of an hour in a slack oven; they should but simmer, as they only require to be poached, and let cool off in this same liquid. Unwrap, pare, cover by dipping each one singly into a brown chaudfroid sauce (No. 594) thickened on ice; after this sauce is cold, pare the birds and place them in round porceiain cases; dress these on the border. Garnish around the cases with jelly cut in three-sixteenths inch squares.

For the Modern Kitchen Do not make this as written.

This is a set piece from the cold buffet of a late nineteenth-century American hotel kitchen, and it cannot be reproduced today because of its central ingredient. The notes below are for reading the recipe rather than cooking it.

A Little History

Charles Ranhofer ran the kitchen at Delmonico's in New York and published The Epicurean in 1894 as a complete record of what that kitchen did, which is why the book reads less like a cookbook than a catalogue with a numbering system. Small birds belong to the older European game tradition it drew on: thrushes, larks, ortolans and buntings were netted in quantity around the Mediterranean and in central Europe, sold cheaply by the dozen, and treated in fine cooking as a vehicle for expensive stuffings — here forcemeat, foie gras and truffle, so that the bird is chiefly a wrapper. The cold service section is where the hotel kitchen showed off: everything glazed, moulded, set in aspic and built on a base, designed to hold its shape for hours on a buffet. Songbird eating declined through the twentieth century as populations fell and protective legislation spread, and pages like this one now read as a record of a market that no longer exists.