The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 123

Parsley Bouquet, in Branches, Fried or Chopped

Persil en Bouquet, en Branches, Frit ou Hache

Plain Bouquet or Bunch of Parsley.—Take about one ounce of parsley branches, including the leaves, wash them nicely and fold them in such a manner that they form a small bundle or fagot, to be tied with a piece of string.

The Garnished Bouquet of Parsley.—Make it exactly the same as the plain bouquet the only difference being that it envelopes various aromatics, such as thyme, bayleaf, clove of garlic, basil, marjoram, chives, green celery, etc. When we speak of a garnished bunch of parsley without any specification, we mean garnished with a bayleaf and a small twig of thyme.

Parsley in Branches for garnishing should be taken from well washed, very green parsley, from which the coarser stalks have been removed; keep it in fresh water and use when needed, draining it first: for garnishing fish, boiled beef, etc.

Fried Parsley is used as an accessory to fried dishes; it is not a garnishing, but simply a decoration; detach some leaves from some very green parsley, wash them in cold water, drain, press them in the hand or in a cloth to extract all the water, and when dry, lay them in a wire basket to plunge into boiling fat; drain as soon as they stiffen.

Chopped Parsley.—Choose very green parsley, wash, drain and press it so as to extract all the water, then cut it up as finely as possible, afterward chopping it well; wash it again, drain and squeeze it thoroughly to remove all the water; lay it on a cloth sieve and leave it in a cool place till needed.

For the Modern Kitchen

Four separate parsley preparations, all of them still standard restaurant practice. The only one with real technique in it is the fried parsley, and the only one people routinely get wrong is the chopped.

A Little History

Charles Ranhofer spent more than thirty years as chef at Delmonico's in New York, and The Epicurean (1894) is his attempt to set down the whole of that kitchen's practice, beginning with the small preparations a cook had to know before touching a dish. Entries like this one are the grammar of the book: parsley in four grammatical cases, each with its own use. The tied bundle he calls a fagot — the word for a bundle of firewood, and the older English name for what is now universally the bouquet garni — was already the standard way of getting the flavor of herbs into a liquid without leaving debris in it, in an era when stocks were strained but sauces were expected to be flawless. Fried parsley, which he is careful to classify as decoration rather than garnish, was one of the period's signatures on fried fish and croquettes, and its near-disappearance from restaurant plates says more about changing taste in ornament than about the technique, which works exactly as described.