The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 377

Beef Juice

Jus de Boeuf

In order to obtain a pint of beef juice it will take about five pounds of meat free from all fat and nerves; cut it into about five-eighth of an inch thick slices; broil them nicely, not too rare or too well done, and after taking them from the broiler, cut them up into five-eight inch squares, and press them well in the press shown in Fig. 70, to extract all their juice; when it is all well pressed out, strain it through a fine sieve or napkin, remove all the fat from the surface and serve in small cups.

For the Modern Kitchen Do not make this as written.

This is expressed raw beef serum, not a cooked broth, and it belongs to a vanished school of invalid feeding. The notes below explain what the instructions mean and why the result cannot be recommended today.

A Little History

Charles Ranhofer's The Epicurean (1894) records the kitchen of Delmonico's in New York, and the section on broths and soups for invalids reflects a period when the chef of a great restaurant was expected to cook for the sick as well as for banquets. Nineteenth-century medicine held that a weakened patient could not digest solid food but could absorb its "nutriment" in concentrated liquid form, an idea reinforced by the enormous commercial success of Liebig's Extract of Meat and its imitators from the 1860s onward. Beef juice, beef tea and raw meat pulp were prescribed in hospitals and sickrooms on both sides of the Atlantic, and the small cups here are a dosing measure as much as a serving suggestion. The theory did not survive analysis: by the early twentieth century chemists had shown that such preparations carry very little protein and function mainly as salty, savoury stimulants, and the practice faded as nutritional science and, later, an understanding of foodborne pathogens caught up with it.