The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 2808

Potatoes Souffled

Pommes de Terre Soufflees

Good souffled potatoes can best be made by using those called Holland potatoes. First trim the raw potatoes in ovals of equal size, two and a quarter inches long by one and a quarter wide, and then proceed to slice them lengthwise three-sixteenths of an inch in thickness. As quickly as they are cut throw them into a bowl of cold water, leaving them in for twenty-five minutes. Heat two panfuls of fat, one of fresh beef kidney suet, the other having previously been used for other purposes and therefore its strength being somewhat extracted, it should be clean and white. Wipe the sliced potatoes on a cloth, dry them thoroughly, put them in a basket and plunge them into the oldest fat, leaving them cook until they become soft, but do not let them take color. Remove and place them on a large sieve to drain and cool for a few moments, and just before serving plunge the potatoes into the fresh, hot fat, toss them, remove those that do not souffle, also those that souffle badly; set them to cool, and return them again to the hot fat. Should they not souffle at the second immersion, it is useless to try again. Salt the potatoes before serving, dress around the meat, or on a napkin in a separate dish.

For the Modern Kitchen

Soufflé potatoes are a two-temperature fry: a low bath to cook the interior and raise steam, a hot bath to set the skin so the slice inflates. Ranhofer's method is sound; what needs translating is the fats, the temperatures he never states, and the expectation of failure.

A Little History

Pommes soufflées belong to the small class of dishes that exist because of an accident, or at least because of a story about one: the puffed potato is generally traced to the opening of the Paris-Saint-Germain-en-Laye railway in 1837, when a cook is said to have pulled potatoes from the fat as the delayed train approached, then dropped them back into hot fat on arrival and found they had inflated. The tale is traditional rather than documented, but the technique it describes is exactly right, and by the time Charles Ranhofer set down The Epicurean in 1894 the dish was standard high-French garnish work, dressed around the meat. His inclusion of it among the book's many potato preparations says a good deal about the period: potatoes in a grand American restaurant were not a filler but a place to demonstrate control of fat temperature, and a cook who could produce a plate of reliably puffed ovals was advertising precision more than economy.