The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 2857

Hard-Boiled Eggs and Aurora

Œufs Durs et a l'Aurore

These should not be cooked too long, still they only attain a proper degree after they have boiled ten to twelve minutes. On removing from the fire they must be thrown into cold water, and left to cool for at least fifteen minutes; drain and shell, without injuring any of the white part, which should remain intact.

Aurora.—Cut lengthwise in halves eight hard-boiled eggs; take out the yolks and divide each halved white in four parts; put these in a sautoir, season with salt, prepared red pepper (No. 168) and nutmeg, and dilute with well-reduced bechamel (No. 409), into which mix finely cut-up chives; dress this in a baking dish. Rub the yolks through a wire sieve directly over the eggs, besprinkle with salt, brush over with hazel-nut butter (No. 567), and heat for a few moments in a hot oven; serve at once. The chives may be replaced by mushrooms and truffles, both finely minced, adding to the bechamel a quarter as much soubise sauce (No. 543).

For the Modern Kitchen

Ranhofer's method is a two-part entry: a general rule for hard-boiling, then the garnished dish itself. Most of the work is in the sauce and the sieved yolk finish, which must go on last.

A Little History

À l'aurore — "dawn" — is a classical French kitchen term for a dish given a rosy or golden tint, most often by tomato worked into a cream sauce. Here Ranhofer instead uses the sieved yolk itself as the colouring, scattered over the pale béchamel like sunrise over cloud. Charles Ranhofer ran the kitchens at Delmonico's in New York for some three decades, and The Epicurean (1894) is essentially the restaurant's working system set down in print: thousands of numbered entries that cross-reference each other, so a single egg dish sends the cook to four other pages for its pepper, its béchamel, its browned butter and its soubise. The hard-boiled egg appears in that system not as a plain thing but as a vehicle — the whites become a base for sauce, the yolks a garnish — which is how a restaurant kitchen with a standing supply of mother sauces would naturally think about it.