No. 1716

Leg of Lamb with Puree of Onions with Cream

Gigot d'Agneau a la Puree d'Oignons a la Creme

Cut off the end of the shank bone of a leg of lamb; pare the leg to shape and remove the superfluous fat; roast it on the spit or else in a baking pan in a moderate oven, pouring over some melted fat, and basting it frequently; salt it over fifteen minutes before serving. Dress and trim the handle bone with a paper frill (No. 10), and serve separately a puree of onions with cream prepared as follows: Mince two pounds of white onions, plunge them into boiling, salted water and let cook for five minutes, then drain very dry, and place them in a saucepan with four ounces of butter; cook the onions colorless, season and stir in two tablespoonfuls of flour; wet with cream in such a manner as to keep the mixture consistent, then set it into a slack oven, and when the onions have finished cooking, rub them through a sieve. Pour the puree back into the saucepan, mix well, heat and serve.

← No. 1715 Leg of Yearling Lamb with Gravy Roasted Lamb No. 1717 Loin of Yearling Lamb, German Style →

For the Modern Kitchen

A plain roast leg with a soubise-style onion puree alongside. The puree is where the work is, and its texture depends entirely on how much cream you add and when.

Oven temperaturesRanhofer gives no numbers. A "moderate oven" is usually read as somewhere around 350F for the leg, and a "slack oven" for finishing the onions as 300F or lower. If you would rather not tie up the oven, the onions finish just as well over the lowest burner setting with a lid and occasional stirring.
Roasting the legA bone-in leg of 6-7 lb takes roughly 1 1/2 to 2 hours at 350F. Pull it at 130-135F internal for pink, 140F for medium, and rest 20 minutes; the shank end will always be more done than the thick end.
Salting fifteen minutes before servingLate salting of this kind is often explained by the old idea that early salt draws out juices, though Ranhofer gives no reason. Modern kitchens salt well ahead — an hour to a day — which seasons more deeply and helps the surface brown. No harm either way, but do not skip salt altogether.
The melted fatThe recipe says only "melted fat," which in a kitchen of this kind would have come from whatever rendered fat was on hand. Clarified butter or a neutral oil does the same job; lamb's own fat cap will supply plenty once it starts rendering.
Draining the onions "very dry"The five-minute blanch removes harshness, but any water left clinging thins the puree and dilutes the cream. Drain hard and press them in the colander before they go into the butter.
"Cook the onions colorless"The single instruction that decides the dish. Any browning turns a pale soubise into caramelized onion, which is a different sauce entirely. Keep the heat low and use a light-colored pan so you can see what is happening.
Wetting with creamAdd the cream a little at a time and keep the mixture thick — Ranhofer's word is "consistent." Two tablespoons of flour against 2 lb of onions and 4 oz butter gives a light bind; expect somewhere around a cup of cream, judged by eye.
SievingA food mill or a blender does in seconds what rubbing through a sieve did in minutes. If you use a blender, stop early — overworked cooked onion goes slick and gluey.
YieldTwo pounds of onions should make roughly three to four cups of puree, enough for eight to ten servings alongside a leg that will feed about the same number.

A Little History

Charles Ranhofer, chef at Delmonico's, published The Epicurean in 1894 as a comprehensive record of a French kitchen operating in New York, which is why each dish carries a number and a French title beside its English one. The onion puree here is essentially soubise, the classic white onion sauce generally traced to the eighteenth-century household of the Prince de Soubise and long treated in French practice as the natural partner to mutton and lamb. Note that the recipes bracketing this one specify "yearling lamb" — in Ranhofer's market, lamb, yearling and mutton were distinct grades with distinct handling, a distinction American butchers have almost entirely dropped. The paper frill on the shank bone, cross-referenced to his No. 10, dresses the bone and gives the carver a handhold.