The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 2892

Green Omelet with Fine Herbs, Spinach, or with Sorrel Crusts

Omelette Verte aux Fines Herbes aux Croutes d'Epinards ou d'Oseille

Chop up parsley leaves, chervil, tarragon and clean sorrel leaves, put them into a saucer and mix in some finely shredded chives. Break eight eggs in a bowl, mix with them the chopped herbs, season and beat; melt some butter in an omelet pan, pour in the eggs and stir with a fork to thicken; as soon as the omelet detaches from the pan fold over and turn it out on a long dish; moisten the top with a brush dipped in maitre-d'hotel butter (No. 581) and surround with some hollowed-out bread-crusts filled in with a fine puree of spinach (No. 729); glaze these over also.

With Sorrel.—Chop up a full handful of sorrel leaves, free of stalks; after having them well washed and cleansed, fry in butter and mix with beaten eggs. Make an omelet the same as the above and serve without any garnishing.

For the Modern Kitchen

Ranhofer assumes a kitchen with maitre d'hotel butter and spinach puree already at hand, and gives no quantities for the herbs. The numbers he cites are cross-references to other pages of The Epicurean.

A Little History

Charles Ranhofer ran the kitchen at Delmonico's in New York across two stints spanning some three decades, and The Epicurean (1894) is essentially that restaurant's working repertoire set down in print, complete with the internal cross-references that make it read like a professional manual rather than a home cookbook. The dish itself is straightforwardly French: omelette aux fines herbes, with fines herbes conventionally meaning the classic quartet of parsley, chervil, tarragon and chives, a combination usually treated as fixed by convention rather than by any datable codification, and still generally defined that way. What marks it as restaurant cooking is the garnish of croûtes spread with spinach puree and glazed, which turns a five-minute egg dish into something that can cross a dining room. Sorrel, the alternative here, was a common kitchen-garden green in both France and America at the time and has since largely fallen out of the market, surviving mainly in soups and sauces for oily fish, where its acidity does the work lemon does elsewhere.