The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 784

Eggs, Bustard, Plover and Sea-Gull

Œufs de Vanneaux, de Pluviers et de Mouettes

Oil over some small crimped paper cases, one inch in diameter, lay them upside down on a grater and push in the oven to stiffen without coloring, set them away to cool, then fill as high as the top through a pocket garnished with fresh butter, or else lobster butter (No. 580), or even half of each. Lay in the middle of each case a bustard's egg, after boiling it and removing the shell. In order to cook these eggs, they must be put in cold water and boiled for eight minutes, then cooled off, and the shell broken gently, remove and wash the egg well. Dress the cases crown-shaped on a dish, and garnish the center either with water-cress or else very green parsley stalks.

For the Modern Kitchen Do not make this as written.

A cold hors d'oeuvre from Delmonico's: tiny buttered paper cases, each holding a single hard-boiled wild bird's egg. The technique is straightforward; the ingredient is the problem.

A Little History

Charles Ranhofer, chef of Delmonico's in New York, published The Epicurean in 1894 as a record of what a first-class American restaurant kitchen could do, and its cold side dishes lean heavily on French luxuries. Plover and lapwing eggs were among the most conspicuous of these: gathered in spring, chiefly from Dutch and English meadows, packed in moss and sold at high prices in London and Paris for a season of only a few weeks. Their small size, speckled shells and rich yolks made them a fixture of Victorian and Edwardian club and hotel menus, usually served cold and barely dressed, so that the egg itself did the work. Egg-collecting was one pressure on lapwing numbers in northwest Europe, though the later declines are chiefly attributed to changes in farming; protective legislation in the twentieth century closed the trade. Recipes like this one now read as a record of a habit that ended rather than a dish anyone can cook.