The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 498

Matelotte Sauce

Sauce Matelotte

Cut in slices one pound of pike, half a pound of eels, and half a pound of carp; put these into a saucepan with minced carrots and onions, two ounces of each, half a handful of parsley and basil, two small cloves of garlic, bay leaf, thyme, salt and allspice; pour in half a bottleful of Bordeaux wine, and half a pint of fish broth or water; let boil for ten minutes, then drain and add to the liquid either half a pint of espagnole sauce (No 414), or some kneaded butter; reduce, dilute with a gill of Bordeaux wine, and finally incorporate into it, two ounces of fresh butter. Just when ready to serve throw into the sauce, half a pound of mushrooms, and twenty-four small white onions lightly browned in a pan and cooked in broth.

A More Simple Way, is to fry a little minced onions and shallot in butter, and when a nice color drain off the butter and moisten the onions with two gills of Burgundy wine; let the liquid reduce to half and then incorporate four gills of espagnole sauce (No. 414); let reduce once more, and after the sauce is properly done, strain it through a sieve, and keep it warm.

For the Modern Kitchen

Ranhofer gives two versions: a full matelote sauce built on a freshwater fish infusion, and a shortcut of onion, wine and espagnole. Both hinge on reduction rather than thickener, so plan on time at the stove.

A Little History

A matelote is a French freshwater fish stew braised in red wine — the name is generally traced to matelot, sailor — and the dish is associated with the Loire and the rivers of Burgundy and Alsace, where eel, carp and pike were what the net brought up. Charles Ranhofer, chef of Delmonico's in New York, files this sauce among the hot sauces in The Epicurean (1894) rather than among the fish dishes; in a kitchen of that scale it would have been a component held warm and spooned over anything from poached fish to poached eggs à la matelote. The two versions on the page show the period's working economy plainly — the long one spends two pounds of fish on a couple of pints of liquid, the short one gets a serviceable red-wine sauce out of onion, shallot and the espagnole already standing on the stove.