The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 1927

Ducks' Giblets, Housekeepers' Style

Abatis de Canards a la Menagere

After a duck has been drawn and singed, chop off the neck as far down as the back, and divide this neck into two or three pieces. Remove the gall from the liver, being careful not to break it, and cut the liver in two or three pieces according to its size. Clean the wings well. Put four ounces of butter into a saucepan with the wings, the neck, and four ounces of lean salt pork blanched and cut in quarter inch squares; when these are nicely fried, add the liver, dredge in for every set of giblets a heaping tablespoonful of flour; stir well and let the flour cook for one second, then moisten with stock (No. 194a) and white wine; season with salt and pepper, and add one dozen small onions, and as many carrots cut pear-shape; let simmer for one hour and a half, remove the fat from the surface and put in a pint of uncooked green peas, then boil together for half an hour longer. When well done and properly seasoned, dress the meats in the middle of a dish with the vegetables arranged around, pour the sauce over and serve.

For the Modern Kitchen

Ranhofer assumes you have just dressed a duck yourself and have the neck, wing tips, liver and heart in hand. Buying a bag of giblets from the butcher, or saving them in the freezer until you have two or three sets, gets you to the same place.

A Little History

This comes from Charles Ranhofer's The Epicurean (1894), the enormous compendium of the kitchen he ran at Delmonico's in New York, and it is one of the book's franker gestures toward economy. Abatis (more often spelled abattis) is the French kitchen term for the trimmings of a bird -- neck, wing tips, gizzard, heart, liver, feet -- and a la menagere, "housekeeper's style," signals a plain, homely treatment. Stewing necks and wings with salt pork, small onions, turned carrots and peas is essentially a fricassee pattern applied to offcuts. The presence of such a recipe alongside Ranhofer's truffled and aspic-glazed set pieces is a reminder that professional kitchens of the period wasted very little.