The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 3001

Apricots a la Jefferson

Abricots a la Jefferson

Infuse a vanilla bean in a quart of hot milk for half an hour, then take it out and set the milk on the fire; drop into it like rain six ounces of farina. Let this boil a few minutes, then remove from the hot fire to a slower one, so that it continues to cook without boiling. Then add to it six egg-yolks, two ounces of sugar, four tablespoonfuls of whipped cream, and two egg whites beaten to a stiff froth. Butter twelve timbale molds (No. 1, Fig. 137); put into the bottom of each a ring of apricot paste and fill the interior of this ring with a round piece of angelica. Fill the molds with the above preparation and keep them in a bain-marie for twenty-five minutes, then unmold and dress in a circle on a dish. Drain some fine compotes of halved apricots, wipe them well and dress them in a dome in the center of the circle. Cover them over with the apricot syrup reduced with sugar and maraschino. Decorate the intersections of the apricots with halved, freshly skinned almonds and cherries (demi-sucre). Lay on the edge of the dish between each timbale a brandied greengage and a brandied cherry. Place the dish after it has been decorated in the oven for fifteen to twenty minutes and serve with an apricot and kirsch sauce in a sauce-boat, made as follows: Put three gills of apricot pulp into a copper pan, with as much water and half a pound of sugar; let boil up once or twice, then strain the sauce through a fine sieve and add one gill of kirsch to it.

For the Modern Kitchen

A Ranhofer set piece: twelve individual semolina custards ringed around a dome of poached apricots. The components can all be made ahead, which is the only way it is manageable.

A Little History

Charles Ranhofer ran the kitchen at Delmonico's across two stints, with a break between them, and The Epicurean (1894) is essentially his working file — upwards of three thousand recipes plus menus from actual dinners served in New York. The book is full of dishes named for patrons, politicians and public figures in the French restaurant habit of the day, and the Jefferson attribution here looks honorific rather than historical: nothing in the construction is early American, and Thomas Jefferson's own documented enthusiasms ran to ice cream and macaroni rather than semolina timbales. What the recipe does show is the late nineteenth-century restaurant kitchen at full stretch, with candied angelica, brandied greengages, maraschino and kirsch all treated as pantry staples, and a dessert assembled as architecture — a ring of molds, a dome in the middle, decorations at every intersection — because it was meant to be carried into the room and looked at before it was eaten.