The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 2487

Galantine of Duckling, Pear-Shaped

Galantine de Caneton en Forme de Poire

Bone a cleaned and singed duckling, leaving on one leg; season the inside meats and fill with pounded galantine forcemeat (No. 65) mixed with half as much baking forcemeat (No. 81), and a salpicon of lambs' sweetbreads, mushrooms and truffles, to be cut in quarter-inch squares, also some cooked and cold veal udder. Restore the duckling to its original shape, sew it up, inclosing its contents, and mold it in a bottomless mold, shaped like a pear; braise in a mirepoix stock (No. 419) for an hour and a half in a slack oven, basting frequently. When done drain and place this mold on a buttered baking sheet and leave it to cool under the pressure of a weight; glaze over with a light green chaudfroid sauce (No. 595), smear one side of the galantine with a piece of wadding that has been rubbed on very finely powdered carmine, and coat with a layer of half-set jelly; at the end stick in either a natural or artificial pear-stalk with a few leaves around and surround, when dished, with a border of chopped jelly and croutons.

For the Modern Kitchen

A Delmonico's cold-buffet showpiece: a boned duckling stuffed, molded into a pear, braised, chilled under weight, then masked and decorated. Most of the work is in the boning and the finish, and the recipe leans on cross-references Ranhofer expects you to look up.

A Little History

Charles Ranhofer published The Epicurean in 1894 after some three decades running the kitchens at Delmonico's in New York, and this entry belongs to the long cold-service chapter that fed the restaurant's ball suppers and banquet buffets. A galantine is a boned bird reassembled around forcemeat, poached or braised and served cold in its own jelly; the name is generally traced to Old French galantine, itself often linked to gelatine, and the technique is medieval in origin. What is distinctly nineteenth-century is the disguise. Cold-buffet cookery of the period prized trompe-l'oeil: hams molded as melons, and here a duckling pressed into a pear, blushed with carmine on one cheek and finished with a real stalk and leaves. The point was to be recognized as artifice from across the room.