The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 2608

Red Beef Tongues, Smoked

Langues de Boeuf Ecarlate Fumees

Cut off the windpipes and prick the tongues with the point of a trussing needle; rub over with pulverized saltpetre, mingled with as much brown sugar, and place them in an earthen or wooden vessel between layers of white salt, with thyme, bay leaf, basil, juniper berries and cloves. Put a board over with a weight on top; turn them after three days and cover so that the air cannot enter and repeat the operation every three days during the period of twelve. To cook, place them in a stock pot after washing in several waters; cover with a sufficient quantity of water to allow them to swim, adding a bunch of parsley garnished with two carrots and two onions; boil slowly for an hour to an hour and a half until thoroughly cooked, which can be ascertained by inserting the point of a trussing needle deep into them; remove from the stock and wrap in a wet cloth; leave to cool, then dress them in a circle leaning against a crouton with the tips downward; garnish with jelly and serve.

For the Modern Kitchen Do not make this as written.

This is a twelve-day dry cure followed by smoking, and it belongs to a period before anyone measured curing salts by weight. The finishing steps — the poaching, the crouton, the ring of jelly — are straightforward; the cure itself is the problem, and it is not one that can be patched by adjusting a time or a temperature.

A Little History

Écarlate — scarlet — is the old French kitchen name for beef or ox tongue cured with saltpetre, which fixes the pigment in the muscle and leaves it a bright pinkish red rather than the grey-brown of a plain boiled tongue. That colour is the point of the name, and it is the same nitrate chemistry that makes ham pink. The dish sits among garnishings for cold dishes, a cured tongue being useful on a cold buffet: it sliced cleanly, kept, and looked well against aspic. The Epicurean (1894) sets down the practice of Delmonico's in New York, where Ranhofer was chef. The vagueness about quantities reads as professional shorthand rather than carelessness, and it is what makes the recipe unusable now.