The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 840

Attereaux Piedmontese

Attereaux Piemontaise

Make a preparation of consistent cooked polenta, finished with butter and grated parmesan; spreading it a quarter of an inch thick. Cut from this round pieces an inch and a quarter in diameter, also some white Piemont truffles an inch across and an eighth of an inch in thickness; pieces of fresh Swiss cheese, three-quarters by one-eighth of an inch, and run these alterately on skewers, first the polenta, then the cheese and truffles; dip them in beaten eggs and bread-crumbs, and fry to a fine golden color.

For the Modern Kitchen

Ranhofer gives quantities for nothing here, assuming a kitchen that already had polenta, truffles and a rack of silver skewers on hand. The technique is straightforward once you know what an attereau is and how firm the polenta has to be.

A Little History

Charles Ranhofer, chef at Delmonico's, printed The Epicurean in 1894 as a working record of the restaurant's repertoire, and its long run of attereaux, from oysters to sweetbreads to this Piedmontese version, shows how much of the hot side-dish course depended on the deep fryer. The word is generally traced, like the French attelet or hatelet, an ornamental skewer, to the same haste or hate root meaning a spit; grand nineteenth-century service used silver skewers with decorative tops as much for the look of a platter as for the eating. The Piedmontese label points to the two ingredients Piedmont was famous for exporting to fashionable kitchens: maize polenta, a staple of northern Italian peasant cooking that arrived on Delmonico's menu dressed in butter and Parmesan, and the white truffles of Alba, then as now the most expensive thing in the region. Ranhofer's willingness to cook a white truffle in hot fat is a period marker in itself, since modern Italian practice tends to favour it raw, shaved over a finished dish.