The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 2757

Mushrooms a la Dumas—Oronges

Champignons Oronges a la Dumas

Remove the skin from some oronges; mince finely and fry in oil; when the moisture has all evaporated, season and drain in a colander. Put some fresh oil in the pan, add to it parsley and a clove of garlic and afterward the drained oronges with the addition of a little salt and cayenne pepper; dress on a baking dish, dredge over bread-crumbs to cover and push into the oven. Turn eighteen whole mushroom oronges, having them an inch and three-quarters in diameter; chop up the stalks with the removed parts from the inside. Have a sautoir on the fire, set into it a quarter of a pound of butter with as much oil; in this fry colorless four finely chopped and blanched shallots, a clove of garlic, the chopped oronges and a heaping tablespoonful of chopped parsley; when there is no more moisture, add half a pint of espagnole sauce (No. 414). Remove the garlic, stuff the whole oronges with this preparation, bestrew with bread-crumbs, pour butter over and place them in a baking pan; moisten with mushroom liquor and cook in a moderate oven for twenty minutes, and garnish the baked preparation around with these.

For the Modern Kitchen Do not make this as written.

Ranhofer builds this in two parts: a minced mushroom duxelles gratinated in a dish, ringed with eighteen stuffed caps. The instructions assume a professional brigade and a pantry of mother sauces, so most of the work of modernising is filling in what he left unsaid.

A Little History

Charles Ranhofer ran the kitchen at Delmonico's in New York, and The Epicurean (1894) is the record of that kitchen at its height, several thousand numbered recipes cross-referencing one another exactly as this one calls out No. 414 for its espagnole. The dedication is almost certainly to Alexandre Dumas pere, whose posthumous Grand Dictionnaire de cuisine (1873) had made the novelist a recognised authority on the table, and whose name attached to a dish signalled a certain generous, garlicky French appetite. The mushroom itself, the oronge or Caesar's amanita, carries its own weight of history: the name is generally traced to the Latin aurantium for its orange cap, and the mushroom Roman writers praised as boletus is usually identified with this species. That Ranhofer could specify eighteen of them, of a particular diameter, says a good deal about what a Manhattan luxury kitchen could source in the 1890s.