The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 3562

Madrilian

Madrilene

Place in a vessel twelve raw egg-yolks and half a pound of sugar, diluting slowly with a pint of boiling milk that has just had a quarter of a vanilla stick infused therein for fifteen minutes; strain through a fine sieve. Butter some timbale molds (No. 3, Fig. 137) and fill them with the preparation; stand them in a sautoir with boiling water to reach to half their height and poach; when they are firm to the touch leave stand till cold, then unmold. Pound a quarter of a pound of sweet almonds and a few bitter ones, all freshly peeled; moisten slowly with a quart of milk and strain forcibly through a napkin; add ten ounces of sugar and a gill of kirsch, also a little vanilla syrup (No. 3165); strain, freeze, and when the ice has congealed mix in one Italian meringue egg-white (No. 140). Mold in cylindrical molds two and a half inches in diameter by two inches in height, placing the small timbale directly in the center; freeze for half an hour, then unmold and lay on lace paper; on top have a handsome brandied plum, and around this and the base set an even row of cherries cut in two.

For the Modern Kitchen Do not make this as written.

This is a composite bombe from Ranhofer's The Epicurean: a small poached vanilla custard set inside a frozen almond-milk ice. One ingredient in it is the reason the recipe cannot be followed today.

A Little History

Ranhofer ran the kitchen at Delmonico's in New York for over thirty years, and The Epicurean (1894) is essentially that restaurant's working repertoire written down, cross-referenced by number so a cook could chase a garnish or a syrup through the book. The name follows the house habit of labelling elaborate moulded ices after places and people; Madeleine sits immediately before this one, Marvelous after it. The form is a bombe: an outer ice moulded around a contrasting core, here a poached custard hidden inside almond ice, so the cut surface reveals the surprise. Bitter almonds were a standard flavouring in nineteenth-century confectionery on both sides of the Atlantic, valued for the intense marzipan note that sweet almonds alone do not give; their toxicity was known but treated as a matter of dosage rather than prohibition, and commercial benzaldehyde flavouring later displaced them in professional kitchens.