The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 3189

Marshal Ney

Marechal Ney

Pound four ounces of peeled almonds with four ounces of powdered sugar and enough egg-white to have a fine paste; put this into a vessel and mix in two ounces of flour, two whole eggs and one stiffly beaten white. Push this preparation through a pocket provided with a three-eighths inch diameter socket on buttered sheets in two-inch lengths and bake them in a hot oven; remove and cool. Have four lightly oiled hexagonal tin rings ranging from five to eight inches in diameter and one and three-quarters inches high; cut the above marchpanes the same size as the sides of the hexagon; fasten these around the hexagonal rings with some sugar cooked to "small crack" (No. 171); unmold, stand one on top of the other, graduating the sizes, and fill the inside with alternate layers of vanilla bavarois (No. 3135), intercalated with small meringue shells made with fifteen egg-whites to one pound of sugar. On the top set one large meringue filled with Bavarian cream and coated with sugar cooked to "crack;" sprinkle over the sugar while hot some finely sliced pistachios.

For the Modern Kitchen

This is a pièce montée in miniature: four hexagonal tiers walled in almond biscuit, filled with vanilla bavarois and meringues, and glued together with cooked sugar. Read it as an assembly project with four components made in advance, not a single procedure.

A Little History

The name honors Michel Ney, the Napoleonic marshal called le Brave des braves, who was shot in Paris in December 1815 after the return from Elba. Naming a moulded cold sweet after a soldier, a singer or a visiting dignitary was routine practice in the grand nineteenth-century kitchen — Charles Ranhofer, who ran the Delmonico's kitchens in New York and published The Epicurean in 1894, filled his chapters with such tributes, and the dish itself usually has no documented connection to its namesake beyond the compliment. What the recipe really records is the Carême inheritance: the belief that a dessert should be built as architecture, with walls, tiers and a crowning ornament, and that a pastry cook should be able to hold sugar at a named degree of heat and use it as cement. The graduated hexagons stacked smallest on top are a scaled-down version of the towering pièces montées that once stood on banquet tables for show as much as for eating.