The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 2604

Terrine of Wild Rabbits

Terrine de Lapins Sauvages

Cut off the limbs of two or three wild rabbits previously skinned, cleaned, and the meats nicely wiped; bone the four limbs and the back, cut the back fillets in pieces, also the meat from the legs, and lard them with shreds of raw ham and bits of truffles; lay them in a vessel to season with pulverized wild thyme, and pour over a few spoonfuls of brandy or Madeira wine; let macerate for two or three hours, adding a few spoonfuls of cooked fine herbs (No. 385). With the minion fillets and the nicest parings prepare a forcemeat, mix with it an equal quantity of baking forcemeat (No. 81), and to this dressing add the marinade from the meats. Cover the bottom and sides of a cooking terrine with a layer of the prepared forcemeat, then begin to fill it with the pieces of rabbit intermingled with large lardons of foies-gras and truffles, both raw, but seasoned, and alternate the forcemeat with layers of the meats; cover the top with forcemeat and thin slices of fat pork over all. Set the terrine into a deep baking pan containing hot water, and bake for one hour and a quarter to one hour and a half in a moderate oven; after it has been removed one quarter of an hour set a weight on top and allow to cool off.

For the Modern Kitchen

A pâté en terrine of jointed wild rabbit set in a double forcemeat, cooked in a water bath and pressed under weight. Ranhofer writes for a kitchen with numbered reference preparations on hand, so the cross-references need filling in before you start.

A Little History

Ranhofer ran the kitchen at Delmonico's in New York, and The Epicurean (1894) is essentially that restaurant's working repertoire written out at length, which is why numbers 2603, 2604 and 2605 march through snipe, wild rabbit and pheasant in a row: game terrines were often a staple of the cold buffet, sliced and set out with aspic and garnish rather than plated to order. Wild rabbit is generally said to have been inexpensive and readily available in nineteenth-century American markets, and the terrine is a classically economical construction: the loin and legs go in whole, the scraps and small tenderloins become the binding forcemeat, and nothing is wasted except the bones. The extravagance is grafted on top in the form of truffles and raw foie gras, imported luxuries that turned a hunter's preparation into something a Delmonico's customer would pay for. The technique itself is much older than the book: sealing seasoned meat under fat in an earthenware pot and weighting it as it cools is a preservation method that predates refrigeration by centuries, and the French word terrine derives from the earthenware pot, though it now names both the pot and the dish cooked in it.