Ranhofer writes in shorthand: the whole method sits in a cross-reference, and this entry only tells you what to fold inside. Here is what the omelet actually requires.
- The base omeletThe parsley omelet it points to is a plain French omelet: three eggs cooked in butter in a small pan, stirred until barely set, then rolled. Standard practice of the period aims at a soft, unbrowned omelet rather than a stiff one, though the detail here is inferred rather than stated in this entry.
- The hingeThe filling goes in at the last moment, just before folding, and it must already be hot. Cold ham and cold peas dropped into a three-egg omelet will hold it on the heat long enough to overcook the eggs. Warm them in a spoonful of butter first.
- QuantitiesTwo tablespoons of filling to three eggs, either all ham or half ham and half peas. That restraint is deliberate; a French omelet folded around too much garnish tears.
- "Three-sixteenths inch squares"About 5 mm dice. Lean cooked ham means boiled or braised ham trimmed of fat, not a thin deli slice — cut it from a piece thick enough to dice.
- Peas "cooked English style"No. 2742 is Ranhofer's peas English style; in period usage that means peas simply boiled in salted water, drained and buttered. Fresh young peas or frozen petits pois both work; two minutes in boiling salted water is enough for frozen.
- Pan and fatA 20 cm (8 inch) pan is right for three eggs. Butter, generously, over medium-high heat; the pan should be hot enough that the eggs set on contact but not so hot the butter colors.
- YieldOne omelet, serving one as a course or two lightly. Make them one at a time rather than scaling up — a six-egg omelet in a large pan behaves quite differently.
The Epicurean (1894) was Charles Ranhofer's summary of some thirty years as chef at Delmonico's in New York, and its egg chapter is built the way a professional kitchen is: one master method, then dozens of variations that differ only in what is folded inside. Numbering and cross-referencing let him print an omelet in two lines because the technique was assumed knowledge for the cooks who would use the book. Ham and peas is one of those pairings — jambon and petits pois were both spring staples in the French repertoire Ranhofer trained in, and peas "cooked English style," meaning plainly boiled and buttered rather than stewed with lettuce and onion in the French manner, appears to have been a familiar distinction in nineteenth-century kitchen French. That such a modest dish sits among Delmonico's terrapin and canvasback is a reminder that even the grandest American restaurant of the period needed a short, cheap egg course.