The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 2811

Potato Timbale a la Parmentier

Timbale de Pommes de Terre a la Parmentier

Remove some rounds with a three-quarter inch diameter tin tube from slices of potatoes three-sixteenths of an inch thick; saute them in butter for two minutes, then drain. Line the bottom of a buttered timbale mold with part of these rounds, and the sides with separate rows laid on flat, intercalating them in such a way that a round of potato lays between two others of the next row. Prepare a puree with a pound of potatoes boiled in salted water, drained and covered with a damp cloth, then dried in the oven; rub through a sieve and stir in two ounces of butter, one whole egg, one yolk, salt and nutmeg. Fill the timbale with this, lay the cover over and push into a moderate oven to cook for half an hour or more; when removed let stand for ten minutes, and invert on a hot dish.

For the Modern Kitchen

A lined potato mold from Ranhofer's The Epicurean (1894): sauteed potato coins tile the buttered mold, a rich potato puree fills it, and the whole thing bakes and turns out as a dome. The hinge is the puree — it must be dry enough to hold a shape, or the timbale slumps when inverted.

A Little History

Anything called a la Parmentier in a nineteenth-century French kitchen means potatoes, after Antoine-Augustin Parmentier, the pharmacist and agronomist who campaigned through the 1770s and 1780s to get the French to eat a tuber then widely regarded as fit only for livestock. By Charles Ranhofer's day the name had hardened into a straightforward menu convention. The timbale itself — a mold lined with something decorative, filled with a forcemeat or puree, baked and unmolded — was one of the standard architectural devices of the grande cuisine Ranhofer cooked at Delmonico's in New York, where a vegetable was expected to arrive at table as a built object rather than a spoonful. The Epicurean (1894) is essentially the working repertoire of that restaurant, and the fussy tiled lining here, laid up like slates, is a good measure of how much brigade labor sat behind a side dish of potatoes.