The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 3357

Shavings

Copeaux

Partly beat up ten egg-whites; add three-quarters of a pound of sugar, three tablespoonfuls of orange flower water, and three-quarters of a pound of flour; lay this paste through a pocket furnished with an eighth-inch diameter socket or else through a paper cornet, on a waxed baking sheet in the shape of ribbons, each four and a half inches long; bake in a brisk oven, and as soon as done detach from the sheet and roll them spirally around small rollers three-eighths of an inch in diameter, removing them as fast as they get the proper shape.

For the Modern Kitchen

Ranhofer's copeaux are thin ribbon wafers piped, baked and curled while hot — closer to a French cigarette cookie than to anything in a modern tea-cake chapter. The batter is simple; the whole difficulty is in the shaping window.

A Little History

Copeaux is simply French for wood shavings or curls, the name describing the finished form rather than any ingredient — the same logic that gives us cigarettes russes and tuiles (tiles). Charles Ranhofer, chef at Delmonico's in New York, published The Epicurean in 1894 as a full record of the French professional repertoire as it was practised in an American restaurant kitchen, which is why a fiddly petit four sits in a chapter alongside plain Scotch bread and sugar cakes. Wafers of this type belong to the pastry cook's stock of petits fours secs: cheap in materials, expensive in labour, and valued precisely because a kitchen with a brigade could turn out hundreds while a household cook could not. The orange flower water points to the older French confectionery tradition, where distilled floral waters did the flavouring work that vanilla extract largely took over during the twentieth century.