The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 3373

Filbert Cakes with Rum—Small

Petits Gateaux d'Avelines au Rhum

Roast half a pound of filberts; clean them well by removing their outer reddish skins, then pound with three-quarters of a pound of sugar, two eggs and half a gill of rum, making it into quite a fine paste; lay this in a vessel and soften it gradually with eight egg-yolks, continuing to beat until it is frothy, then add two ounces of finely shredded citron, four ounces of potato fecula, four ounces of melted butter and lastly six firmly beaten egg-whites. Pour this paste on a buttered sheet covered with paper, spread it out to half an inch in thickness and cook in a slow oven. Turn the cake over on a grate when done and leave to cool and set until the following day. Pare and cut it either in lozenges, oblongs or other shapes; steep each one slightly in Jamaica rum and ice over, dipping them into Jamaica rum fondant (No. 58); bestrew the cakes with chopped-up roasted filberts.

For the Modern Kitchen

A rum-soaked hazelnut sponge, baked flat, rested a day, then cut and glazed as petits fours. The overnight rest is not optional padding — a half-inch nut sheet cut warm will tear and refuse to take fondant cleanly.

A Little History

Aveline is the French for the cultivated hazelnut, and "filbert" is the older English name for the same nut. The recipe comes from Charles Ranhofer's The Epicurean (1894), the vast compendium he assembled from decades as chef at Delmonico's in New York, and it sits in a long run of numbered petits fours: sheets of nut or chestnut sponge, baked flat, rested, cut into geometric shapes and glazed. That production logic is the point. A restaurant turning out mignardises by the hundred could hardly have shaped each one individually, and the sheet-bake-rest-cut-dip sequence would have let one pastry cook produce dozens of identical pieces from a single tray. The heavy reliance on potato starch rather than wheat flour is characteristic of the nineteenth-century French repertoire, where fécule gave nut cakes a lighter, shorter crumb than flour would; and the insistence on Jamaica rum reflects a period when rum was graded and priced by island of origin, the dark Jamaican style being the assertive one you would want against roasted hazelnut and citron.