The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 373

Chicken and Calf's Foot Jelly

Gelee de Volaille et de Pieds de Veau

Bone six calves' feet, blanch, and refresh them in cold water; put them in a saucepan with six pounds of round bottom of veal, four large fowls, after removing the breasts, two knuckles of veal and sixteen quarts of water. Boil, then skim, and season with salt and pepper, adding a bunch of parsley, garnished with thyme, bay leaf, and two cloves of garlic, a little celery, three onions, one having two cloves in it, four carrots, and eight leeks; boil constantly until perfectly cooked from six to eight hours, and test the jelly to see whether it be firm enough, by putting a little on a plate on ice; if too gelatinous, then add a little water. Strain through a fine sieve, and remove the fat.

For Clarification.—Chop fine the chicken breasts, mix in with eight egg-whites, diluted with a little white broth, or half a bottleful of white wine; mix in the jelly gradually with the eggs, and put it back on the fire, stirring it constantly with a whisk, and when on the point of boiling remove it from the range, and strain through a flannel bag, restraining until it flows clear.

For the Modern Kitchen

This is a restaurant-scale consommé set with natural gelatin, written for a kitchen that fed hundreds and kept an ice room. Everything about it works at one-eighth scale in a domestic pot; the technique is unchanged.

A Little History

Charles Ranhofer's The Epicurean (1894) recorded thirty-odd years of cooking at Delmonico's in New York, and its section of broths and jellies for invalids reflects a nineteenth-century conviction that concentrated meat essence was the proper food for the sick and the convalescent. Clear jellies were prized because they were thought digestible, because they could be taken cold by someone with no appetite, and because a firm, brilliant consommé aspic was among the hardest things a kitchen could produce — a stock like this doubled as the base for the elaborate cold chaud-froid and moulded dishes of the buffet. The reliance on calves' feet is older than the book by centuries: before commercial gelatin was cheap and reliable, feet, knuckles and pork rind were how any cook got a set, and English and French household manuals alike gave long instructions for boiling them down. Note also the economy of the thing, characteristic of a large professional brigade — the four fowls are used breastless, the breasts held back and chopped raw to clarify the very stock their carcasses helped build.