Important: Safety Warning
This recipe calls for animal brains or related nervous-system tissue. Cattle brain and spinal tissue can transmit bovine spongiform encephalopathy (BSE), the cause of variant Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease in humans, which is fatal and has no treatment.
This information has been left in for historical purposes but should not be acted upon.
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Fontange Patties
Stir up with four ounces of flour the yolks of three or four eggs, a little salt, and a teacupful of olive oil; mix with this one and one-half teacupfuls of beer and warm water mixed in equal quantities ; put a cloth over the basin, and keep it in a warm place for two hours, then pour the batter into a stewpan. Warm in boiling fat, an iron mould made for this purpose, of the shape of a little timbale; when hot, dip it nearly, but not quite to the rim, in the batter, take it out again immediately, plunge it into the boiling fat and leave it till the batter is cooked; then remove it from the mould and proceed as before until all the batter is cooked. Prepare a salpicon of poultry meat, pickled tongues, brains and mushrooms, thicken it with a little sauce, fill the batter shells with it, arrange them on a folded napkin on a dish, and serve.
This is a timbale-iron recipe: a beer batter fried on the outside of a hot mould to make crisp cups, then filled. The batter is straightforward, but the iron and the filling both need translation.
- The hinge: the iron must be hot and greased-hot, not merely warmHeat the timbale iron in the fat until it is fully hot, then dip it into the batter only to just below the rim, and return it to the fat at once. If the iron is cool the batter will not cling; if batter runs over the rim the shell locks on and tears coming off.
- Fat temperatureThe original says only "boiling fat." Work at 360-375F. Below that the shells absorb oil and stay pale; above it the thin batter colours before it sets.
- Archaic measuresFour ounces of flour is weight, not volume, and comes to roughly one cup of all-purpose flour. 'Teacupful' is not a fixed measure and is variously reckoned at about four to six fluid ounces, so the olive oil is somewhere between half a cup and three-quarters of a cup, and the one and one-half teacupfuls of beer-and-water between about three-quarters of a cup and a cup and an eighth. Judge the batter by consistency rather than by these figures.
- Batter consistencyThat much oil makes an unusually rich batter for the purpose. Judge it by feel: it should coat the iron like heavy cream and drip freely. Thin it with more of the beer-and-water mix if it is claggy.
- The two-hour restNo yeast is called for; the rest in a warm place hydrates the flour, and any live yeast in unpasteurised beer may have contributed a little activity. With modern filtered beer you get the hydration and some carbonation but no real fermentation, which is fine for this batter.
- "Pour the batter into a stewpan"This only means transfer it to a wide, shallow vessel so the iron can be dipped without submerging the rim. A pie plate or shallow saucepan does it.
- SalpiconA salpicon is a fine, even dice, here of cooked chicken, cooked pickled tongue, brains and mushrooms, bound with just enough thick sauce to hold. The recipe specifies only 'a little sauce'; a velouté or a tight béchamel would suit.
- BrainsCalf and beef brains are restricted or unavailable in many countries because of BSE controls, and the specified risk material rules still apply. Sweetbreads, or simply more poultry and mushroom, fill the shells perfectly well.
- Yield and serviceThe quantity of batter will make a good number of small cases, though how many depends on the size of the iron. Fill them at the last moment; the shells soften within minutes of meeting a warm filling.
The timbale iron behind this recipe was standard equipment in late nineteenth-century hotel kitchens, a small cup-shaped mould on a long handle used to fry batter into edible cases for creamed fillings — the same principle as the rosette irons still sold for Scandinavian cookies. The name is generally traced to Marie Angélique de Scorailles, Duchesse de Fontanges, a favourite of Louis XIV whose name attached itself to a scatter of French garnishes and soups; by the late nineteenth century such names functioned less as history than as menu French, signalling to diners that a dish belonged to the grand tradition. The filling is equally of its period: a salpicon of cooked poultry, pickled tongue, brains and mushroom trimmings, bound in sauce and served in a container the kitchen had made from flour and beer.