No. 1975

Pullet a la Lester Wallack

Poularde a la Lester Wallack

Break and remove the breastbone of a clean pullet, fill in the empty breast space with a dressing made of grated fat pork, chopped mushrooms, and bread steeped in milk and this liquid squeezed out; truss as for an entree (No. 178), cover with bards of fat pork, and poeler it quite white (No. 12), then untie and dress on a rice croustade foundation fastened on a dish; surround it simply with turned and channeled mushroom heads (No. 118), cooked artichoke bottoms about two and a half inches in diameter, removing the center with a five eighths of an inch cutter, then divide into eight pieces, and small chicken quenelles poached in salted water; all these garnishings to be arranged in separate groups. Cover the pullet with some good veloute sauce (No. 415), reduced and thickened with egg-yolks and cream, and finished at the last moment with a salpicon of foies-gras (No. 743), passed through a fine sieve; serve more of the sauce in a sauce-boat.

← No. 1974 Pullet a la Leondise Capon & Pullet No. 1976 Pullet a la Martiniere →

For the Modern Kitchen

Ranhofer writes in shorthand, leaning on cross-references to the rest of The Epicurean. The hinge is the cooking method: poêler means butter-poaching in a covered pot, not roasting, and it is what keeps the bird white.

PulletA young hen, roughly 3 to 4 lb dressed and under a year old. A supermarket roasting chicken of that weight stands in exactly; avoid anything labelled stewing hen, which needs long moist cooking.
Poêler (No. 12)The bird goes into a heavy covered pot on a bed of aromatic vegetables with a generous quantity of butter, and cooks gently in a low oven, basting with the butter, taking no colour. Ranhofer gives neither temperature nor timing; cook until the thigh reads 165F.
Bards of fat porkThin sheets of pork fat tied over the breast. Fresh pork fatback or thinly sliced unsmoked salt pork works; blanch salt pork first or the bird will be too salty.
Grated fat pork in the dressingFatback grated or scraped to a paste, which melts into the crumbs and keeps the stuffing moist. A food processor does the job. Bread "steeped in milk and squeezed" is the classic panade — wring it hard or the stuffing turns sloppy.
Removing the breastboneCut the keel out from inside the cavity, leaving the skin and breast meat intact, so the stuffing sits under the breast rather than in the body cavity. A boning knife and patience.
Turned and channeled mushroomsTrimmed caps with shallow spiral grooves cut into them, cooked white in butter, lemon juice and a little water. Purely decorative; plain sautéed caps taste the same.
Artichoke bottomsFresh bottoms trimmed to about 2½ inches and boiled in acidulated water, or good tinned or frozen ones. The center is punched out with a ⅝-inch cutter — a small round pastry cutter — and the ring cut into eight.
The sauceVelouté reduced, then finished with a liaison of egg yolks and cream: hold it below a simmer once the yolks go in or it will curdle. The sieved foie gras goes in off the heat at the last moment, as heat makes it grainy and greasy.
Rice croustadeA shaped base of stiff, well-cooked rice, fastened to the platter as the recipe directs, commonly with a paste. A simple mound of firm risotto-style rice, or a plain platter, serves the same purpose now.
YieldFour to six as a main course, the garnishes arranged in separate groups around the bird rather than mixed together. Serve at once; the white sauce skins over quickly.

A Little History

Lester Wallack (1820–1888) was one of the most visible figures in the New York theater of his day, actor, playwright and manager of Wallack's Theatre, and this dish belongs to the long list of plates Charles Ranhofer named for the patrons, performers and politicians who filled Delmonico's dining rooms during his three decades there. The construction is thoroughly Second Empire French: a bird poached pale in butter rather than browned, set on a built-up base, ringed with garnishes in tidy separate heaps, and blanketed in a velouté enriched with yolks, cream and sieved foie gras. Naming such a dish after a celebrated New Yorker was both flattery and advertisement, and The Epicurean (1894) preserves dozens of them — a menu-length register of who mattered in Gilded Age Manhattan, filed under poultry.