The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 642

Beef Tongue Garnishing, Andalusian Tomato Sauce

Garniture de Langue de Boeuf, Sauce Tomates Andalouse

Cut twelve slices, each one three-sixteenths of an inch thick from the thick end of a cooked beef tongue; pare them neatly either into rounds, ovals, or half hearts; heat them in a little half glaze (No. 413), and dress them around a remove covering with a Andalusian tomato sauce (No. 550).

For the Modern Kitchen

A garnish rather than a dish in its own right: twelve neat slices of cooked tongue, glazed and ranged around a large joint. Everything depends on the tongue being properly cooked and cooled first, and on the slices being warmed rather than cooked again.

A Little History

Charles Ranhofer's The Epicurean (1894) records the kitchen of Delmonico's in New York, and this entry sits in a long numbered catalogue of garnishings — components meant to be cross-referenced and combined rather than cooked start to finish. Nothing here is self-contained: the tongue, the half glaze and the Andalusian sauce all point to other numbers, which is how a brigade kitchen actually worked, each station producing a part that the chef assembled at service. "Andalouse" in nineteenth-century French cookery generally signals sweet red peppers and tomato, a nod to Spain that appears across the sauce chapters of the period. Beef tongue, meanwhile, was neither exotic nor cheap-cut apology in this era; brined, pressed and sliced, it was a standard of both the grand restaurant buffet and the domestic cold table, valued precisely because it cut into clean, even rounds that held their shape on a platter.