No. 2132

Quails, Salmis Of, a la Morisini

Salmis de Cailles a la Morisini

Prepare six quails the same as for roasting (No.2131), divide them in two splitting through the center of the breast, suppress the legs and pare the remainder of the birds. Mince two shallots finely, break the legs and put them into a saucepan with the fragments of quail and the shallots; moisten with red or white Bordeaux wine (either will answer), and as much mirepoix stock (No.419) and espagnole sauce (No.414). Let boil slowly for fifteen minutes, then strain through a sieve, put in the quails, heat up without boiling and dish up in a circle. Add some finely cut up mushrooms and truffles to the sauce and pour it over the quails; surround the salmis with heart-shaped bread croutons fried in butter.

← No. 2131 Quails Roasted Quail, Snipe, Woodcock & Small Birds No. 2133 Quails with Bay Leaf →

For the Modern Kitchen Do not make this as written.

A salmis is a two-stage dish: the birds are roasted rare, then finished in a sauce built from their own trimmings. Ranhofer assumes a kitchen with espagnole and mirepoix stock already standing, so most of the modern work is in the substitutions.

The hinge: never let the sauce boil with the birds in itRanhofer says to "heat up without boiling." The quails have already had their cooking in the roasting stage, so once returned to the strained sauce they need only to come up to serving heat over low heat. A boil will squeeze them dry and turn the breast meat grainy.
"Prepare the same as for roasting"No. 2131 is Ranhofer's roast quail; expect the birds to be trussed and barded before roasting. Since they are only heated through in the sauce afterwards, roast them briefly and stop short of fully done, or you will have overcooked quail at the table.
"Suppress the legs"Cut the legs off and set them aside; they go into the saucepan with the carcass trimmings to build the sauce. Only the breast halves are served.
Espagnole and mirepoix stockEspagnole (No. 414) is the brown mother sauce: brown roux, brown stock, tomato, aromatics, long-simmered and strained. Mirepoix stock (No. 419) is stock enriched with browned diced carrot, onion, ham and herbs. A well-reduced brown veal or game stock, lightly thickened, stands in for both without embarrassment.
Proportions of the sauceRanhofer gives no volumes. Read "as much" as roughly equal parts wine, mirepoix stock and espagnole, about a cup of each for six quails, reduced over the fifteen minutes into a sauce that lightly coats a spoon.
Sourcing the birdsFarmed coturnix quail, sold four to six ounces dressed, are what you will find; they are milder and fatter than the wild bobwhite Ranhofer knew. Semi-boneless quail are unsuitable here, since the carcass is the point of the sauce.
TrufflesThe recipe says only "truffles," finely cut; black truffle is what is meant, fresh if you can get it. If that is out of reach, use more mushroom and finish with a few drops of truffle-infused oil off the heat rather than a jarred "truffle product," which tends to taste of nothing but its brine.
CroutonsHeart-shaped slices of firm white bread, crustless, fried in butter until crisp on both sides and arranged around the dish. Fry them last so they stay dry under the sauce.
YieldSix quails split in half serve six as a course in a long menu, or three as a main dish.

A Little History

Salmis is a French kitchen term for a ragout of roasted game finished in a sauce made from its own carcass, generally traced to the same root as salmigondis, a medieval word for a stew of mixed meats. It was a standard way of extending a small number of birds and, just as usefully, of getting a second service out of game that had been roasted for an earlier course. Charles Ranhofer, who ran the kitchen at Delmonico's in New York for over thirty years and published The Epicurean in 1894, gives a whole run of quail preparations in this section alone, a measure of how much small game a fashionable American restaurant of the period moved. The garnish names in the book are largely tributes to patrons, financiers and public figures of Gilded Age New York, and titles of this kind were the standard currency of restaurant flattery rather than records of who invented a dish.