The International Cook Book

Over three thousand recipes from the man who cooked at Delmonico's — French sauces, Italian pastas, Indian curries and American pies, the whole eating world of 1906 in one volume.

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Rice Imperatrice

Thoroughly wash three ounces of good rice in several changes of fresh water, drain it thoroughly, place it in a saucepan with one pint and a half cold milk, a saltspoon salt, one vanilla stick and five ounces of granulated sugar. Place the pan on the fire and let slowly boil for forty-five minutes, being careful to stir at the bottom with a wooden spoon frequently to prevent burning; shift the pan to the corner of the range. Cut in small dice pieces six candied cherries, two candied apricots, two candied pears, and add them to the rice with two tablespoons kirsch; mix well, then add two egg yolks and mix well again for five minutes. Remove to the table, take up the vanilla bean (wipe it and keep in fine sugar for further use), add one gill of whipped cream to the rice and gently mix. Lightly wet a quart pudding mould with cold water, drop in the rice, then set the mould in a basin with cracked ice around and let cool off for two hours. Remove, wipe the mould, unmould upon a cold dish and serve.

For the Modern Kitchen

A classic French moulded rice dessert, written for a coal range and an ice chest. The measurements convert cleanly; the technique needs a little translation.

A Little History

Riz à l'impératrice is generally traced to French restaurant and hotel kitchens of the Second Empire and is traditionally said to honour the Empress Eugénie, wife of Napoleon III — one of a cluster of dishes named for her in the 1850s and 1860s. It belongs to a family of moulded, iced cream desserts that flourished precisely because ice had become reliably available to professional kitchens: rice, milk and sugar, ordinary nursery food, elevated by candied fruit, kirsch and cream and turned out of a shaped mould. The book it appears in was compiled by Alexander Filippini, long associated with Delmonico's in New York, and this version reads like a restaurant one: quantities in ounces, instructions keyed to the hot and cool zones of a range, and a vanilla bean too valuable to throw away.

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