The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 283

Puree of Wild Ducks, [canvasback, Redhead or Mallard] a la Van Buren

Puree de Canards Sauvages [Canvasback Tete Rouge ou Mallard] a la Van Buren

Roast two ducks for eighteen or twenty minutes, remove the fillets, and break up the bones, putting them into a saucepan with a split knuckle of veal and a quarter of a pound of ham, also two cut up tomatoes, and one onion with four cloves in it. Moisten with four quarts of broth, cook for two hours and strain the broth; pound the fillets after removing all the skin, with the same quantity of cooked hominy, and two ounces of butter, dilute this with the broth, season with salt and nutmeg, and heat it up without boiling. Just when ready to serve incorporate into it, four ounces of good butter, and beat the broth up well with a spoon, until all the butter is melted; then pour it into a soup tureen with a garnishing of celery cut in dice, and blanched and cooked in some consomme, also quarter inch squares of brioche dried in the oven.

For the Modern Kitchen

Ranhofer's game purées are essentially two recipes stacked: a long game-and-veal stock, and a butter-enriched purée finished off the heat. The order matters more than the timings.

A Little History

Charles Ranhofer, chef at Delmonico's for over thirty years, filled The Epicurean (1894) with dishes named for the restaurant's patrons and for public figures; who this Van Buren was is not stated, and the name belonged to a prominent New York family as well as to a president. Canvasback was the most prized American wild duck of the nineteenth century, its reputation resting on the wild celery beds of the Chesapeake where the birds fed and which were said to sweeten the flesh; the diced celery garnish here may well be a nod to that, and the redhead (tête rouge) and mallard are offered as substitutes. Market gunning for canvasback was intense, and commercial trade in wild waterfowl was closed off by federal law in the early twentieth century, after which the bird passed out of restaurant cooking almost entirely. The hominy is the other quietly American note in a French construction: Ranhofer used it where a Parisian kitchen would more likely have reached for rice or bread.