The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 974

Mentana Timbales

Timbales a la Mentana

The salpicon to be made of chicken livers a la Duxelle, (see below), thickened with egg-yolks, to be used when cold. Butter some timbale molds (No. 2, Fig. 137), and place on the bottom a one inch in diameter slice of truffle, cut away the center with a three-quarters of an inch vegetable cutter, and replace the truffle by a piece of red beef tongue. Decorate the sides of the mold with thin, eighth of an inch wide strips of tongue, laid on slanting, having ten strips in all, and in the center between every one, a round bit of truffle measuring three-sixteenths of an inch across, with a smaller one one-eighth of an inch on the top and bottom, also laid on slanting, making three round bits of truffle between the two strips of tongue. Fill the insides and bottom with a chicken and cream forcemeat (No. 75), and in the center lay a ball of the prepared salpicon; then more forcemeat, and finish them as for No. 959. Serve separately a perigueux (No. 517) and tomato sauce (No. 549) mixed.

For salpicon of chicken livers a la Duxelle, cut some chicken livers in quarter inch squares; fry them in butter with a little shallot, mushroom, and truffles, all chopped finely, and mingle with a little well reduced half-glaze (No. 400).

For the Modern Kitchen

This is a dish of assembly rather than technique: a decorated mold, a fine chicken forcemeat, and a cold liver salpicon at the center. Ranhofer wrote for a brigade with numbered cross-references at hand, so several components are named rather than given.

A Little History

Charles Ranhofer ran the kitchens at Delmonico's in New York, and The Epicurean (1894) is essentially that restaurant's working repertoire set down in thousands of numbered entries, each assuming the others. Timbales of this kind - a mold lined with cut truffle and scarlet tongue in a deliberate geometric pattern, filled with a pale forcemeat and turned out whole - belong to the high decorative style of late nineteenth-century French service, where the visual pattern was the point and the flavors were kept mild so as not to compete. The names are mostly commemorative: Ranhofer titled dishes after places, patrons and events, and Mentana refers to the 1867 battle near Rome in the campaigns around Italian unification, a name that would still have carried some currency with diners in the 1890s. Nothing about the dish is Italian; the label is a nod to the events in the newspapers of the era rather than a claim about origin.