The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 2930

Poached Eggs, Matelote

Œufs Poches Matelote

Poach some eggs the same as for poached eggs with gravy (No. 2931); prepare and fry in clarified butter some oval crusts (No. 52) measuring two and a quarter by two and three-quarter inches. Cook in butter one minced onion, add to it a bunch of parsley garnished with thyme and bay leaf, and a clove of garlic and mushroom peelings; moisten with red wine and thicken with kneaded butter (No. 579); boil all slowly for half an hour, skim and pass it through a tammy; add small cooked mushroom heads and small glazed onions. Dress the eggs on the fried crusts; range them in a circle, and pour the garnishing in the center.

For the Modern Kitchen

Ranhofer writes for a professional brigade with a stocked garde-manger, so quantities are left out entirely and half the work is hidden behind cross-references. The hinge is the sauce: a red-wine matelote thickened with kneaded butter must simmer slowly and then be strained, or it stays raw-tasting and cloudy.

A Little History

Matelote is traditionally traced to the French for a sailor's wife or, loosely, a boatman's manner of cooking: a stew of freshwater fish in red wine with onions, mushrooms and a bouquet garni, long associated with the inns along the Seine, Loire and Marne. By the nineteenth century the name had detached from the fish and become a sauce formula in its own right, so that a cook could serve eggs, brains or calf's head en matelote and everyone understood a dark red-wine sauce garnished with button mushrooms and glazed onions. Charles Ranhofer, chef at Delmonico's in New York and author of The Epicurean (1894), lists dozens of poached-egg preparations in exactly this way — each one a standard sauce dropped onto a standard fried crust — which is less a collection of dishes than a demonstration of how a classical kitchen recombined a finite set of parts into an apparently endless menu.