The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 270

Puree of Chicken a la Reine

Puree de Poulet a la Reine

For Twelve Persons.—Garnish the bottom of a braziere with slices of fat pork, minced carrots and onions, and a bunch of parsley garnished with a little thyme and bay leaf; place on top one chicken, moisten with a pint of broth, and let it reduce slowly but entirely; moisten again with two quarts of broth, let the liquid come to a boil, then skim it off and continue boiling until the chicken is thoroughly cooked. Remove all the meat from the chicken without any skin or fat, and pound this with half a pound of very fresh bread-crumbs, season it with salt and nutmeg, then moisten with the stock, rub this through a tammy, and heat it up without boiling, adding to it an almond-milk prepared as follows: Pound one ounce of freshly peeled almonds, add gradually to it one pint of milk and press this forcibly through a napkin. Just when ready to serve, put into the soup three ounces of fine butter, stirring it continually until thoroughly melted. Serve the soup with a garnishing of small quenelles, bead-shaped, of three-sixteenths of an inch in size, made of quenelle and cream forcemeats (Nos. 75, 89), half and half of each, and laid through a cornet on a buttered baking sheet, then poached in boiling water.

For the Modern Kitchen

Ranhofer's chicken purée is a bread-thickened soup rather than a roux or cream one, which dictates almost everything about how it behaves on the stove. Read the two temperature warnings before you start: the finished soup is never boiled again.

A Little History

Charles Ranhofer put this in The Epicurean (1894), the enormous record of his thirty-odd years as chef at Delmonico's in New York, where a formal dinner offered two soups and a diner chose between them. The name à la reine attaches in classical French cookery to dishes built on puréed or minced chicken enriched with cream or almonds; it is generally traced to the queens of the French court, with Marguerite de Valois and Marie de Médicis both named in the tradition, though the attribution is culinary folklore rather than documented fact. What is verifiable is the age of the method: thickening with pounded almonds and fresh bread crumb, rather than flour, is a medieval and early modern European technique — the same one behind blancmange — and it survived into the nineteenth-century restaurant kitchen precisely in these white chicken purées, where a roux would have dulled the colour and the delicacy that the dish was praised for.