The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 547

Supreme Sauce

Sauce Supreme

Remove the breasts from five chickens, break up the carcasses and second joints. Cut two pounds of kernel of veal into large squares, and cook them with the chicken bones, in half a pound of butter without allowing them to color, then moisten with seven quarts of veloute stock (No. 422); let boil, skim well, and season with salt, pepper, and a bunch of parsley garnished with basil and bay leaf, and continue to boil for two hours, being careful to skim off the top when necessary; then strain the whole through a fine sieve. Place a saucepan on a slow fire, containing one quarter of a pound of butter and as much flour; when cooked without coloring, moisten it with one and a half quarts of the above stock, and let it boil on one side of the stove only, so as to be able to skim it properly, now add a quarter of a bottleful of Sauterne wine, cook again, and despumate for two hours; strain the sauce through a tammy, and reduce with one pint of cream, and just when ready to serve, beat in a piece of fresh butter.

For the Modern Kitchen

This is restaurant work written for a brigade: the first paragraph builds a double-strength chicken and veal stock from the trimmings of five birds, and only a fraction of it becomes sauce. Read it as two operations and scale the first one down hard.

A Little History

Sauce suprême is the standard cream-and-chicken derivative of velouté in the nineteenth-century French repertoire, and its name comes from the same root as suprêmes de volaille, the trimmed breast fillets it was most often poured over. That connection is literal in this recipe: Charles Ranhofer, chef at Delmonico's in New York and author of The Epicurean (1894), begins by removing the breasts from five chickens and building the sauce from what is left, so that nothing in the larder is wasted while the fillets go out to the dining room. The two-hour skimming, the tammy cloth, and the quart-scale reductions belong to a kitchen with a coal range that ran all day and enough hands to tend it, which is why the velouté family of this period reads as infrastructure rather than as single dishes. Escoffier codified much the same sauce nine years later, in Le Guide Culinaire (1903), and it survives in modern French practice largely unchanged in principle: chicken velouté reduced with mushroom cooking liquor and cream, butter at the end, and no color anywhere.