The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 2931

Poached Eggs with Gravy

Œufs Poches au Jus

The eggs must be very fresh and selected of uniform size. Only a few at a time can be poached. Boil some salted water acidulated with vinegar in a saucepan; quickly crack three or four eggs, one at a time, on the edge of the saucepan; open and drop them over the water exactly in the spot where it bubbles; with a small, deep, long-shaped skimmer gather the egg together, turning it incessantly, so that it assumes a long form, then remove the pan to the side of the fire until the envelope of the yolk be sufficiently hardened not to break. The difficulty consists in giving the egg a sufficient solidity without allowing the yolks to harden, for these should remain perfectly mellow. As soon as each egg is done, lift it up delicately with the skimmer and drop it in a plentiful supply of cold water so that it hardens, then take it up very carefully, pare neatly, and return it at once into cold water. Just when ready to serve, warm the poached eggs, either in their own water that has been strained through a sieve, or on a small baking tin, in a slack oven; dress them in a vegetable dish and baste over with clear gravy (No. 404) and serve. Poached eggs are also served simply on slices of toast, without any sauce whatever.

For the Modern Kitchen

Ranhofer is describing restaurant service, not breakfast: the eggs are poached in advance, chilled, trimmed, and reheated to order. Everything in the method follows from that.

A Little History

The Epicurean (1894) is Charles Ranhofer's record of thirty-odd years as chef at Delmonico's in New York, and this entry reads exactly like a line cook's standing instruction rather than a home recipe. Poaching in batches, shocking in cold water, trimming and holding until service is the classic French mise en place for eggs, and it is why the book gives dozens of numbered variations on the poached egg — once you have a tray of trimmed eggs in cold water, the difference between this dish and No. 2932 is only the sauce. Au jus here means what it meant in nineteenth-century French kitchens: napped with clear meat gravy, not the thickened sauce the phrase later came to suggest on American menus. The closing line, that poached eggs are also served plainly on toast with no sauce at all, is Ranhofer conceding that the whole apparatus is optional.