The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 963

Timbales a la Chevaliere

Timbales a la Chevaliere

Butter some timbale molds (No. 2, Fig. 137) using kneaded butter, but neither melted nor wet. Decorate the sides with pieces of sweet noodle paste (No. 142), executed by cutting out fanciful pieces and laying them on the sides in a design formed of two back to back crescents, divided by three rounds of different sizes, the largest one on the top and decreasing in size to the bottom, moisten the noodle paste. Line the molds with a thin timbale paste (No. 150) without disturbing the decoration. Fill inside with some buttered paper and flour, cover over with a layer of thin paste, cut it evenly around the top, and pinch the edges with a pastry tong. Cook the timbales in a moderate oven; remove the lid and the insides, and brush over the paste with some glaze, then garnish with foies-gras, mushrooms, and balls of truffles, the whole combined with a Madeira sauce (No. 492). Lay on top some cocks'-combs and kidneys rolled in a little meat glaze (No. 402), arranging them tastefully.

For the Modern Kitchen

This is a late-nineteenth-century restaurant construction: a small pastry case baked blind in a decorated mold, then filled at the last moment. Read it as two separate jobs — build and bake the shells, then make the ragout that goes inside.

A Little History

A la chevaliere belongs to the vocabulary of nineteenth-century French garnishes, in which a name signalled a fixed combination of ingredients to any trained cook: here foie gras, mushrooms, truffle and the cocks' combs and kidneys that were standard luxury trim in Careme's generation and were still being served in the grand hotels of Ranhofer's day. Timbales themselves take their name from the drum-shaped mold (Arabic tabl, a drum, by way of the French for a kettledrum), and the elaborately decorated version in this entry is showpiece work — the pattern of crescents and graduated rounds exists purely to be admired before the case is broken into. Charles Ranhofer, chef at Delmonico's in New York for more than thirty years, published The Epicurean in 1894 as a working record of that kitchen's repertoire, complete with cross-references to numbered pastes, sauces and glazes, which is why the recipe reads as a set of instructions to someone who already has the components on hand.