The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 296

Champetre Soup

Potage Champetre

Despumate for twenty-five minutes on the side of the range, two quarts of thick white soup stock (No. 195), with a handful of mushroom parings added. Take some long French rolls called "flutes," each one being one inch and a half in diameter; scrape off the superficial upper crust, and cut them transversely into a quarter of an inch thick slices; brown these on one side with clarified butter, then drain them off, leaving the butter in the pan. Cover the toasted sides of these slices with a paste made of fresh Swiss, Chestershire, and Parmesan cheeses, pounded and moistened with a little beer and Marsala wine, finishing with a pinch of cayenne pepper; dust this paste over with grated parmesan, return the bread to the pan, and put it into a hot oven to glaze the cheese, then range them on plates. Skim all the fat from the soup, strain and put it back into the saucepan, add half a gill of soubise puree (No. 723), mingled with four egg-yolks, butter and grated nutmeg; pour it into a soup tureen and serve at the same time as the cheese crusts.

For the Modern Kitchen

Ranhofer writes for a brigade with a stockpot already going, so the work here is mostly assembly. Two things need translating: his vocabulary, and the point at which the soup can be ruined.

A Little History

This comes from Charles Ranhofer's The Epicurean (1894), the enormous compendium of the cooking he oversaw at Delmonico's in New York, and it shows the house habit of numbering everything so that one recipe leans on three others. The name is a small joke of the French repertoire: champetre means rustic or pastoral, yet the soup is a cream velouté finished with an egg-yolk liaison, onion puree, butter and nutmeg, and served with cheese toasts glazed in the oven, which is about as far from a farmhouse pot as a kitchen can get. The rustic note is generally taken to be the mushroom parings, thrifty trimmings simmered in the stock for flavour, and the browned bread, which in genuinely country soups would have been the whole dish rather than a garnish. Cheshire and Parmesan alongside Gruyere in one paste is characteristic of the period's confident mixing of imported cheeses, then a marker of an expensive kitchen with access to a good import trade.