The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 952

Rissoles of Game, Chicken or Fish Forcemeat, Beef or Veal Palate or Lamb

Rissoles de Farce de Gibier, de Volaille, ou de Poisson de Palais de Boeuf ou de Veau, ou d'Agneau

For the rissoles of game, chicken, or fish forcemeat see No. 63. Mix in with either of these some raw fine herbs; prepare and finish the same as for the rissoles in Elementary Methods (No. 161).

Beef or Veal Palate.—Cut a pound of beef of beef or veal palate into three-sixteenth inch squares; have also six ounces of cooked lean ham cut the same and put them with some bechamel (No. 409) and melted meat-glaze (No. 402); set aside to get quite cold. Roll out fragments of puff paste and finish the rissoles as for No. 161. Serve on folded napkins.

Lamb.—Chop up finely one medium sized shallot; fry it in butter and add to it both veloute (No. 415) and tomato sauce (No. 549); stir in a pound of cold lean roast lamb cut in three-sixteenth inch squares, season to taste, transfer it to a vessel to set aside until perfectly cold, then form it into rissoles the same as for No. 161, and serve on folded napkins.

For the Modern Kitchen

Ranhofer writes in cross-references, assuming you own the whole book. The method underneath is simple: bind cold cooked meat in a thick sauce, chill it solid, enclose it in puff paste and deep-fry.

A Little History

Charles Ranhofer published The Epicurean in 1894 after decades as chef at Delmonico's in New York, and the book is organised as a working kitchen's reference rather than a domestic cookbook — hence the chains of numbered cross-references, which assume a brigade that already knows the mother sauces. A rissole in this tradition is a fried pastry turnover, the name generally traced to Old French roissole, from a root meaning to redden or brown. Entries like this one show how a nineteenth-century restaurant kitchen turned leftovers into billable courses: cold roast lamb, trimmings of ham, and beef palate — an offcut then cheap and now nearly gone from the trade — were diced, bound in yesterday's bechamel or veloute, and sent out as a hot side dish indistinguishable in prestige from anything cooked to order.