No. 1876

Chickens' Legs in Papers

Cuisses de Poulets en Papillotes

Take out the bones from some chicken legs, leaving on half the drumstick, season, lay them in a sautoir containing bardes of fat pork and moistened with a white wine mirepoix stock (No. 419); when they are well cooked set them under the pressure of a light weight; pare all around, also the ends. Cut some sheets of strong paper into heart-shapes, oil them over and lay a very thin slice of fat fresh pork on top of one of the halves, cover this with a layer of reduced duxelle (No. 385) and a chicken leg above; cover with more of the duxelle and a very thin slice of cooked ham; enclose them in the papers, plaiting it all around, lay these on a silver dish, place them in a slack oven and when the papers have acquired a fine color and are considerably swollen, serve them immediately.

← No. 1875 Chickens' Legs As Cutlets with Olives Chicken No. 1877 Chickens' Legs, Puree of Jerusalem Artichoke →

For the Modern Kitchen

Ranhofer's cross-referenced numbers assume you own the whole book; the dish is really a two-stage job — braise and press the boned legs, then bake them in paper with a mushroom stuffing. Read the whole thing before starting, because nothing in the paper package gets cooked from raw.

The hinge: the duxelles must be dryA reduced duxelle (No. 385) is minced mushrooms and shallot cooked down until no liquid weeps out. If it is wet, the steam soaks the paper, the parcel will not inflate, and the whole point of the presentation is lost.
Bardes of fat porkSheets of cured or fresh pork back fat cut thin, a standard butcher's item in Ranhofer's day. Fatback is still available from a good butcher; sliced salt pork, blanched to draw the salt, or unsmoked streaky bacon will do the same insulating work in the sautoir.
Sautoir and mirepoix stockA sautoir is a straight-sided shallow pan with a lid — a modern sauté pan or a small braiser. The white wine mirepoix (No. 419) is a braising preparation of diced root vegetables and herbs with white wine and stock, and versions of this period often included ham or pork as well; check the cross-reference for Ranhofer's own proportions. A cup of dry white wine with an equal amount of chicken stock and a handful of aromatics stands in for it.
Boning the legTunnel out the thigh bone and the upper half of the drumstick, leaving the lower knuckle in place as a handle. A butcher may do this for you if asked.
PressingCooling the cooked legs flat under a light weight — a plate with a can on it, refrigerated — sets them into an even shape so they can be trimmed and will lie flat in the paper. Skipping this gives a lumpy parcel that steams unevenly.
"A slack oven"A slack oven is a low one; in modern terms somewhere around 300–325°F, though the book fixes no figure. That is low for a modern papillote, where 400°F is usual, but here everything inside is already cooked and the oven's only job is to colour and inflate the paper without scorching it. Watch it rather than timing it; the parcels are done when browned and domed, a matter of minutes.
The paperOiled parchment, not baking paper's silicone coating and not foil, which will not brown or puff. Cut a heart large enough that the folded edge can be crimped in overlapping pleats all round with a good inch of margin.
Serving and yieldServe the parcels closed, on the dish they baked on, and let each diner open one — the aroma is the effect. Two legs per person as a course; the recipe scales to whatever quantity of legs you have.

A Little History

Charles Ranhofer ran the kitchens at Delmonico's in New York across some thirty-odd years, though not in a single unbroken run (roughly 1862–76 and 1879–96), and The Epicurean (1894) is his attempt to set down the whole of that repertoire in encyclopaedic French-restaurant order, which is why so many entries send you off to a numbered stock or garnish elsewhere in the book. Papillote is the French word for the twist of paper used to wrap a sweet or curl hair, and cooking en papillote was well established in French practice long before Ranhofer; the heart-shaped sheet, oiled so it browns rather than burns, is the classical cut. The dish may also hint at the economy behind grand-hotel cooking: one can imagine breasts going out as suprêmes and cutlets, with the legs — tougher, darker, needing to be boned and braised — dressed up with duxelles and ham into something that could be sold at the same table, though that division is an inference rather than a documented practice.