The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 215

Consomme a l'Adelina

Consomme a l'Adelina

The admitted rule for all soups is one quart of soup for four persons. The garnishing consists of round chicken quenelles, three-sixteenths of an inch, poached in boiling water; green peas cooked in boiling, salted water, and carrots cut into balls the same size and shape, and cooked in white broth with a little sugar. Also timbales, twelve pieces in all. Dilute one-quarter of a pint of puree of chestnuts with a quarter of a pint of cream and four egg-yolks, salt, and nutmeg; butter some dome shaped tartlet molds, put a round piece of truffle at the bottom, and then fill the molds with the above preparation; set one beside the other in a stewpan with boiling water reaching to half their height, and poach them in a slack oven; when firm to the touch, unmold and place them in a vegetable dish with the quenelles, carrots and green peas; pour over a little consomme, just sufficient to cover, and serve separately a tureen of consomme, having all very hot. Into each plate put some of the contents of the vegetable dish and tureen; this rule stands for all consomme garnishings, that is, one timbale, and a dozen and a half carrots, peas, and quenelles, inclusive.

For the Modern Kitchen

This is a garnish assembly rather than a soup recipe: Ranhofer assumes you already have clarified consommé on hand (his No. 189 and the garnishing note at No. 214) and tells you only what to float in it. The chestnut timbales are the part that needs care.

A Little History

The Epicurean (1894) is Charles Ranhofer's record of some thirty years as chef at Delmonico's in New York, and the long run of consommés in its soup chapter — Andalouse, Colbert, Célestine, Adelina and dozens more — shows how a single clarified broth was made to yield an apparently endless menu by varying the garnish alone. Dishes bearing women's names in this period were often understood as tributes to singers and actresses who dined in the room, and à l'Adelina is usually taken to honour the soprano Adelina Patti, then among the most celebrated performers in the world, though the book does not say so here. The chestnut timbale is the distinguishing touch, and it suggests an autumn or winter dish, chestnuts being a familiar seasonal item in New York at the time. Worth noting too is the housekeeping instinct in the final sentence: having described one garnish, Ranhofer stops to fix a general rule of proportion for all of them, which reads as the habit of a man writing for a professional brigade rather than a home cook.