The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 410

Chicken Bechamel

Bechamel de Volaille

Lift the breasts from two chickens, bone the rest of them and cut the meats into three-eighth inch squares; cut up also one pound of lean veal the same size. Put half a pound of butter into a saucepan with four ounces of onions cut into three-sixteenth inch squares; fry slowly without letting them attain a color, then add the chicken and veal, and when all are well fried, throw in half a pound of flour; stir well and let the flour cook for a few minutes, then moisten with four quarts of chicken bouillon (No. 188); season with salt, mignonette, a bunch of parsley garnished with two bay leaves and as much thyme, then let boil and simmer for one hour and a half, skim off the fat and scum carefully. Strain the bechamel through a fine sieve and then a tammy, and, to reduce it, add one quart of cream, and when the sauce covers the spoon, pass again through the tammy into a vessel; stir from time to time until it gets cold.

For the Modern Kitchen

This is a heavily enriched velouté rather than a milk-based béchamel, built on chicken and veal that are cooked into the roux and then strained out. Ranhofer's quantities are for a hotel kitchen; almost everyone will want to divide by four.

A Little History

Charles Ranhofer wrote The Epicurean (1894) out of thirty years at Delmonico's in New York, and the Stocks, Essences and Auxiliaries section is the engine room of that kitchen: mother sauces made in gallon batches, cooled, and drawn on for days of service. The name béchamel is generally traced to Louis de Béchameil, a financier and steward at the court of Louis XIV, though the association is traditional and the sauce almost certainly predates him. By the nineteenth century French practice used the word loosely for any white sauce built on a pale roux, and Carême's codification into a milk-based béchamel and a stock-based velouté was still competing with older usage. Ranhofer's bechamel de volaille sits squarely in that older camp: white, but bound with chicken bouillon, deepened with veal, and finished with cream at the end rather than begun with milk. It would have gone into chicken croquettes, vol-au-vents, timbales and any dish on his menus marked à la crème.