No. 2877

Eggs Molded with Foies-Gras—in Cases

Œufs Moules en Caisses aux Foies-Gras

Brush over with butter six round crimped paper cases (Fig. 439) having them three inches across at the opening, two at the bottom, and an inch and a quarter high. Rub a little pate-de-foies-gras from a terrine through a fine sieve, and mix slowly into it some melted glaze (No. 402), and as much chicken quenelle forcemeat (No. 89) as foies-gras. Spread a layer of this on the bottom of each case, poach the forcemeat in a slack oven, and then break an egg on top of each one; scald the yolks with hot melted butter applied with a brush; season the whites with salt, and range the cases on a grate; lay this on a baking-sheet, and cook the eggs in a slow oven from eight to ten minutes, then place each case inside another paper one, having it larger and very clean, and dress on a folded napkin. The foies-gras forcemeat can be replaced by one of fish, game or chicken, with a salpicon of either shrimps, mushrooms or truffles.

← No. 2876 Egg Molded a la Parisian, Also Called Talley Eggs & Omelets No. 2878 Argentine Omelet →

For the Modern Kitchen

Ranhofer's method is a two-stage bake: a savory forcemeat base set first, then an egg broken on top and cooked just to the point where the white sets and the yolk stays soft. The paper cases are structural, not decorative, and everything else follows from keeping them from scorching.

The hinge: two separate cooksThe foie gras forcemeat must be poached and firm before the egg goes on, or the egg overcooks while the base is still raw. Set the base first, let the cases cool a minute, then break the eggs.
Slack and slow ovensThe book gives no figures; in 19th-century usage a slack oven is usually taken as somewhere around 250-300F and a slow oven around 300-325F. At the lower end the stated eight to ten minutes may not be enough to set the whites, so judge by the whites rather than the clock.
Glaze, No. 402The book's own glaze, i.e. glace de viande: stock reduced to a syrup that sets solid when cold. Your own reduced stock does the work here, binding the pureed foie gras and seasoning it; a commercial demi-glace concentrate is a rougher stand-in, being a thickened sauce base rather than a plain glaze.
Quenelle forcemeat, No. 89The book's chicken quenelle forcemeat: breast pounded with panada and cream, sieved and lightened, essentially a raw chicken mousseline. A food-processor mousseline (roughly 8 oz breast, an egg white and about 3/4 cup cream) is a reasonable modern stand-in, though it omits the panada. As much forcemeat as sieved foie gras, as written.
Paper casesCrimped paper caisses at 3 in. across the top and 1 1/4 in. high are close to a standard muffin-liner size; heavy parchment cases or fluted foil cups buttered inside will serve. The outer, larger case at the end is purely cosmetic, hiding the greased and browned inner one before it reaches the table.
Scalding the yolksBrushing the yolk with hot melted butter sets a thin skin so it holds a glossy dome and does not film over dull in the oven. It is worth doing; it does not cook the yolk through.
Foie gras todayA terrine of foie gras is a specialty purchase and is restricted or banned in some jurisdictions. The recipe's own closing line gives the alternative: a fish, game or chicken forcemeat with a fine dice of shrimp, mushroom or truffle.
YieldSix cases, one egg each — a first course or a lunch dish, served on a folded napkin so the cases do not slide.

A Little History

Charles Ranhofer ran the kitchens at Delmonico's in New York, and The Epicurean (1894) is essentially that restaurant's working repertoire set down in full, complete with cross-references to its own stocks and forcemeats. Cooking in paper — en caisse, en papillote — was a standard 19th-century restaurant device: it let a delicate item be baked, portioned and served in the same vessel, with no transfer to break the surface. The doubled case at the end is pure service theatre of the period, the same instinct that put ruffled paper frills on cutlet bones. Molded egg dishes fill pages of this section because eggs were the flexible middle of a long menu, capable of carrying whatever luxury the house had on hand, and in the 1890s at Delmonico's that meant foie gras, truffles and a glaze reduced from good stock.