The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 403

Root Glaze

Glace de Racines

Put into a saucepan two pounds of carrots cut in big squares, as many onions, one pound of celery roots, and three pounds of turnips; season with a little salt, four cloves, one teaspoonful of whole allspice, and moisten with twelve quarts of water, adding four pounds of split knuckle of veal, and two pounds of the kernel, also a bunch of parsley, garnished with thyme and bay leaf; let cook slowly for four hours, then strain the whole through a fine sieve; return it to the fire, despumate well all the white and fat particles from the surface; let it continue to boil till the consistency of a thick syrup is obtained, then put it away to use when needed.

For the Modern Kitchen

Ranhofer's root glaze is a vegetable-forward cousin of meat glaze: twelve quarts of veal-and-root stock boiled down to a syrup that keeps for weeks and lifts a sauce with a spoonful. The work is almost entirely in the reduction, and the one thing that will ruin it is salt.

A Little History

This is entry No. 403 in Charles Ranhofer's The Epicurean (1894), the enormous record of his thirty-odd years as chef at Delmonico's in New York. The stocks-and-auxiliaries section is the engine room of the book: little in it is a dish in its own right, and much of it is a component that dozens of later recipes call for by number. Glace in this sense simply means a stock boiled to a glossy syrup — the same word as ice or mirror, for the shine it gives. The technique descends from the Carême line of French kitchen practice, where a small stock of concentrated bases let one cook build a sauce in minutes rather than hours. A root glaze specifically hedges against the flatness of a purely meat-based reduction, since carrot and turnip carry sugars that caramelise as the water leaves; commercial demi-glace and glace de viande sold today are made on the same principle, if rarely with three pounds of turnips.