The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 3073

Pancakes a la Rossini—Meringued

Pannequets Meringues a la Rossini

Place in a vessel half a pound of flour, one ounce of sugar, a pinch of salt, lemon peel and two tablespoonfuls of orange flower water; beat with a whip to mix well and dilute the preparation with five gills of cream, afterward adding three ounces of melted butter. Heat two small pancake pans, wipe them nicely and brush with clarified butter; pour into each one two spoonfuls of the preparation, spreading it over well and set it on a slow fire. As soon as the pancake begins to dry turn it over quickly and a few seconds later invert it on a baking sheet; finish cooking all the preparation the same way. Cover each pancake with a layer of apricot marmalade (No. 3675) and roll them up on themselves. Spread a thick layer of pastry cream (No. 46) on the bottom of a dish, dress over the pancakes, forming them into a pyramid and cover with a layer of vanilla meringue with sugar (No. 140); decorate the summit with a rosette of the meringue pushed through a channeled socket pocket and the base with a circle of hollows; besprinkle lightly with sugar and push into a very slack oven to color the meringue, then fill the hollows with currant jelly (No. 3670) and apricot marmalade (No. 3675). A Madeira sabayon sauce (No. 3096) is to be served apart.

For the Modern Kitchen Do not make this as written.

A Ranhofer assembly rather than a single dish: thin cream crêpes, apricot filling, pastry cream base, meringue over the top, and a warm Madeira sabayon alongside. The cross-referenced numbers are all standard preparations you can substitute directly.

A Little History

Charles Ranhofer built much of *The Epicurean* (1894) out of his thirty-odd years as chef of Delmonico's in New York, and dishes named for singers, actresses and composers were part of the trade — Rossini, who died in 1868, was as famous in kitchens as in opera houses and lent his name to a whole family of luxurious garnishes. There is no evidence the composer ate this particular dish; "à la Rossini" in the period signals richness and prestige more than any documented connection. The construction itself is pure grand-restaurant logic: five separate preparations from elsewhere in the book, each already made in quantity in a professional kitchen, assembled to order into a pyramid that could be carried to the table with a sauce boat behind it. The orange flower water in the batter is a survival of a much older European sweet-kitchen habit, common in eighteenth-century pastry and steadily displaced by vanilla over the course of the nineteenth.