The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 3694

Stewed Prunes

Compote de Pruneaux

Put a pound of fine dried prunes in a saucepan; cover with water; place on the range to boil up a few times so they can soften, then drain and cover with a twenty-eight degree syrup, adding two or three slices of lemon, a small piece of cinnamon and a quarter of a bottleful of red wine. Place the saucepan on the fire and let the whole boil slowly until the prunes are done, then leave stand till cold and serve on a compote dish.

For the Modern Kitchen

Ranhofer writes for a professional kitchen with a syrup hydrometer on the bench, so the only real obstacle here is the density scale. Everything else is straightforward stewed fruit.

A Little History

This is No. 3694 from Charles Ranhofer's The Epicurean (1894), the enormous record of his years as chef at Delmonico's in New York, and its terseness is characteristic: the book assumes a brigade that already knows what a 28-degree syrup is and keeps a hydrometer in the pastry section. A compote in this sense is fruit poached whole in sugar syrup and served in its own liquor, distinct from a preserve meant for keeping: a short life on the sideboard. Dried prunes, largely from Agen in southwestern France and by the 1890s increasingly from California orchards planted with French stock, were a year-round fruit in an era when fresh fruit was seasonal, and dressing them with red wine, lemon and cinnamon is often described as a characteristically French way of turning a cheap winter storecupboard item into something fit for a restaurant table.