The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 867

Cromesquis of Beef Palates

Cromesquis de Palais de Boeuf

Prepare and cook a beef palate as explained in No. 1326; put it under a weight. Cut it in lozenge-shaped pieces, two inches by three inches; heat these in a half-glaze (No. 400), set them under a weight, lay on each side a slice a slice of foies-gras (goose livers) and cover this with raw chicken forcemeat (No. 89). Roll them in grated bread-crumbs, dip in beaten eggs, roll again in the bread-crumbs and fry until a good light color. Serve on a folded napkin, with a bunch of parsley on top.

For the Modern Kitchen

Ranhofer writes for a brigade with a larder already full of half-glaze, cooked palates and forcemeat on hand; assembled from scratch this is a two-day dish. The pieces are essentially a layered croquette, and everything depends on the palate being cooked to complete tenderness before it is ever cut.

A Little History

Cromesquis is the French spelling of kromeski, a fried croquette generally traced to Polish and Russian cookery and absorbed into the nineteenth-century French repertoire, where it was usually a filling wrapped in something — calf's udder, bacon, a pancake — then battered or crumbed and fried. Charles Ranhofer, chef of Delmonico's in New York, published The Epicurean in 1894 as a complete record of that kitchen, and its hot side dishes are full of organ and offal cuts that a large restaurant bought cheaply and made expensive through labour. Beef palate is a good example: a nearly worthless piece of the head, transformed by hours of simmering, pressing, glazing and a slice of foie gras into a course fit for the Delmonico's card. Palates appear all through eighteenth- and nineteenth-century English and French cookery — Hannah Glasse fricasseed them — and their disappearance from menus has less to do with taste than with the collapse of kitchens willing to spend a day on them.