The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 3005

Border of Rice with Bananas

Bordures de Riz aux Bananes

Make a consistent rice cream preparation (No. 160) flavored with vanilla, and finish it with a few egg-yolks. Divide this into two portions, and into one incorporate a salpicon of chestnuts cut up small and candied pineapple cut in quarter-inch dice. Butter and sugar a plain border or savarin mold (Fig. 139), and with the rice which has no fruit cover the sides, then fill the mold with the rice and fruit, smooth the top and set this border in a sautoir with hot water reaching halfway up, and push it into a slack oven for twenty-five minutes. Unmold the border on a dish, and ornament the top with a handsome circle of angelica lozenges and candied cherries, and surround the base with preserved plums. Peel some fine bananas, cut them up into transversal slices a quarter of an inch thick, plunge them into a thick maraschino syrup, let simmer for a few moments, then drain and range them in a pyramid in the center of the border. Brush the top over with apricot marmalade (No. 3675), and dredge finely chopped pistachios over all; heat the border in the oven for twenty minutes, and serve with a sauce-boat of sauce made with apple jelly (No. 3668), diluted with a little syrup and flavored with maraschino.

For the Modern Kitchen

Ranhofer assumes you have his rice cream (No. 160) and apricot marmalade already on hand, and that you can read cross-references. Here is what the recipe needs in a kitchen without a brigade behind it.

A Little History

This comes from Charles Ranhofer's The Epicurean (1894), the record of some thirty years cooking at Delmonico's in New York, and it shows the period's habit of building sweet courses architecturally: a molded ring of rice as the plinth, fruit heaped in the well, a glaze and chopped nuts to finish. Rice borders were a stock device of nineteenth-century French pastry work — cheap, sturdy, and able to carry whatever expensive fruit the house wanted to display. The bananas are the tell. By the 1880s and 1890s steamers were landing fruit from the Caribbean at New York and New Orleans in quantity, and bananas moved within a generation from curiosity to something a restaurant could pile up in a pyramid without comment. Set beside candied pineapple, angelica, maraschino and preserved plums, they read here less as an everyday fruit than as one more item in a deliberate show of imported abundance.