The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 2384

Timbale of Fillets of Soles a la Gauloise

Timbale de Filets de Soles a la Gauloise

Fill the timbale paste, prepare and cook a case as explained in No. 2383. After the case is taken from the oven open it on the cut to empty. Glaze the inside with a brush, and dress it on a dish; keep it warm in a heater. Poach the fillets of sole in butter, salt and lemon juice; set them under a light weight, pare and keep them warm likewise. Add to a well-reduced allemande sauce (No. 407) some minced truffles and mushroom heads; fill the timbale with a layer of sole on top of the truffles and mushrooms, then more sole, and continue the operation until the timbale is entirely filled. Garnish around with Milanese macaroni croquettes, and the top with trussed crawfish.

Milanese Macaroni Croquettes are to be made with cooked macaroni cut into half-inch lengths and mingled with allemande sauce (No. 407), adding a salpicon of tongue, truffles and mushrooms; when cold dip in beaten eggs, then in bread-crumbs and fry in hot frying fat.

For the Modern Kitchen

Ranhofer writes for a brigade with a stockpot already going and a numbered sauce book at hand; the assembly is quick, but three components have to exist before you start. Read it as a plating recipe for a baked pastry case, poached sole and a bound sauce.

A Little History

Charles Ranhofer's The Epicurean (1894) records the repertoire of Delmonico's in New York, and this entry is a fair sample of it: a French grande-cuisine construction, numbered and cross-referenced so a cook could chase down the pastry in No. 2383 and the sauce in No. 407 rather than have either repeated. À la gauloise is one of the looser restaurant epithets of the era, Gaul standing in for France generally; classical usage does attach a gauloise garnish (cockscombs and cocks' kidneys) to some dishes, but nothing of that kind appears here, and in this recipe the name seems to signal little more than a dish presented in the grand French manner. The timbale itself is older than the sauce inside it: an edible pastry drum, moulded, baked hollow and filled at the last moment, descended from the raised pies of earlier centuries and kept in use in the nineteenth century partly because it looked impressive on a buffet. Dishes like this one belong to a service style that has largely disappeared, where a single centrepiece was carried out whole, admired, and only then broken into portions.