The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 355

Mock Turtle Soup, Thickened

Soupe Fausse tortue Liee

It needs one gallon of soup for twelve persons. Proceed exactly the same as for the clear mock turtle only leaving out the fecula thickening. Put four ounces of butter into a saucepan on a slow fire, and when melted, mix in with it a quarter of a pound of flour, cook it slowly to obtain a blond roux, which then moisten with clear turtle stock, until it becomes the consistency of a light sauce, cook it slowly and keep despumating it for half an hour, then strain it through a sieve or tammy, and return it to the fire in a very clean saucepan, and after bringing the liquid up to a boil, despumate it again. Add the quenelles, the calf's head cut in pieces, and the pulp of a lemon without any peel or pips, also half a gill of sherry wine for each quart of soup.

For the Modern Kitchen

This is the thickened version of Ranhofer's mock turtle, built on the clear soup of No. 354; it assumes you already have that stock, the cooked calf's head and the quenelles on hand. The hinge is the roux: it must be cooked to blond, not brown, and the soup skimmed repeatedly, or the finished bowl will taste of raw flour and look muddy.

A Little History

Mock turtle soup was invented to imitate the green turtle soup that was a luxury of eighteenth- and nineteenth-century English and American dining, and the substitute of choice was a calf's head, whose skin and cheek meat turn gelatinous and faintly gluey in exactly the way turtle does. By the time Charles Ranhofer set down The Epicurean in 1894, after decades as chef at Delmonico's in New York, mock turtle was standard enough that he gave it in two forms: a clear version thickened lightly with starch, and this liaison version built on a roux. The pairing of the two entries shows how a grand restaurant kitchen worked from a single day's stockpot, dressing one preparation up or down according to the menu. Sherry in turtle and mock turtle soup was practically obligatory in the period, and survived into the twentieth-century canned versions long after real turtle, and calves' heads, had left most American tables.