No. 2329

Quenelles of Chicken with Consomme

Quenelles de Poulet au Consomme

Prepare a quenelle forcemeat with the breasts of two chickens the same as for No. 89; form a small quenelle and throw it into a little boiling broth; remove it from the fire and poach it for about ten minutes, cut it in two to be assured of its delicacy, and if found too hard add two or three spoonfuls of allemande sauce (No. 407) to the forcemeat, and if too soft a little panada (No. 121), pounding it well and adding only a small quantity at a time; then place the forcemeat in a tin vessel and lay it on ice. Put the four well-roasted legs and all the fragments of the chickens into a saucepan, with the exception of the livers and gizzards, moisten to the height of the meats with some good stock (No. 194a), then boil and skim; add an onion stuck with a clove, a minced carrot and a bunch of parsley garnished with a bay leaf; let cook for one hour on a very slow fire, then strain, skim off the fat, clarify and pour it through a napkin; it should be of a fine color. An hour and a quarter before serving butter a sauteing pan liberally, having it large enough to hold twelve soupspoon quenelles, and mold them as explained in No. 155. Twenty minutes before serving put this sauteing pan on the range and moisten the quenelles with some of the boiling broth (No. 194a); cover and set it on one side to poach without boiling; as soon as they feel hard under the pressure of the finger, and have risen to the surface of the broth, drain them on to a white cloth and lay them either in a vegetable dish or a silver one and pour the boiling prepared consomme over.

← No. 2328 Chicken Quenelles, Bretonne Miscellaneous Entrées No. 2330 Quenelles of Fish, Montglas →

For the Modern Kitchen

Ranhofer writes for a brigade with a stockpot already going and a numbered reference for every component. Stripped down, this is poached chicken mousseline dumplings served in their own clarified broth.

The hinge: test one firstThe instruction to poach a single trial quenelle and cut it open is the whole technique, not a flourish. Forcemeat that is too firm gets a spoonful or two of thick sauce; too soft, a little panada (a flour-and-milk or bread paste), worked in gradually so the emulsion does not break.
Never let it boilThe finished dozen are moistened with boiling broth, then covered and set to one side 'to poach without boiling.' The trial quenelle is dropped into boiling broth but the pan comes off the fire at once. At a hard boil the farce swells, weeps fat and turns cottony. They are done when firm under the finger and risen to the surface.
What the forcemeat isNo. 89 is Ranhofer's cross-referenced quenelle forcemeat; check it for the actual binding proportions rather than assuming them. A modern equivalent: skinless breast from two chickens, processed cold with egg white, seasoning and cream, kept over ice throughout. Warmth is what makes it split.
Allemande sauceA velouté finished with egg yolk and cream, largely retired from modern menus. Any thick, cold velouté-type sauce serves the stiffening purpose here.
"Soupspoon quenelles"Shaped with spoons as directed in No. 155, and sized by the soupspoon, so each is a substantial dumpling. Twelve are called for; how many they serve depends on the rest of the menu.
The consomméThe consommé is made with the remaining fragments (livers and gizzards excepted), moistened to the height of the meats with the stock of No. 194a, simmered an hour with onion piqué, carrot and a parsley bundle, then clarified. Clarification means an egg-white raft; straining through a napkin is straining through damp muslin.
Butter the pan liberallyThe sauté pan is buttered because the quenelles are molded directly into it and poached there. Skimping means they stick and tear when you drain them.
ServingDrain on a white cloth so no cloudy poaching liquid follows them to the dish, lay them in a vegetable or silver dish, and pour the boiling clarified consommé over at the last moment.

A Little History

Charles Ranhofer ran the kitchens at Delmonico's in New York, and The Epicurean (1894) is a working record of that repertoire, cross-referenced like an encyclopedia because a cook was expected to have the base preparations already on hand. Quenelles — from the French, generally traced to the German Knödel — were a mark of a serious kitchen in the nineteenth century: pounding breast meat, panada and butter to a smooth paste in a mortar was slow, skilled labor, and the reward was a dumpling of almost no texture at all. That delicacy was the point, and it explains why Ranhofer insists on cutting a test quenelle open before committing the batch. Serving them naked in a clear consommé made from the same birds' legs and trimmings is the older French logic of using the whole animal in one dish, with the humbler parts reduced to a broth whose only job is to be transparent.