The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 970

Lagardere Timbales

Timbales a la Lagardere

Make a salpicon of mushrooms and beef palates combined with an allemande sauce (No. 407) reduced with mushroom essence (No. 392), the pieces for the salpicon to be cut into three-sixteenths of inch squares. Have round molds an inch and a half in diameter, having at the bottom an indent a quarter of an inch deep by one inch in diameter, the molds to be one and five-eighths of an inch high, and two inches and one-eighth wide at the opening. Decorate the molds after buttering them when cold with triangles of truffles, three-quarters of an inch long by three-eighths of an inch wide; lay them close together around the opening of the mold, and on the top of each point set a round bit of tongue, three-sixteenths of an inch; garnish the bottom and sides with chicken cream forcemeat (No. 75) and fill the center of the inside with a salpicon ball half an inch in diameter; fill up the mold with more of the forcemeat, finishing it the same as for No. 950. Set on top in the indent a three-quarters of an inch ball of very fine chestnut puree (No. 712) quite thick, bread-crumb and fry in very hot fat, and serve a supreme sauce (No. 547), with essence of mushrooms (No. 392) separately.

For the Modern Kitchen

This is a Delmonico's kitchen note rather than a standalone recipe: it assumes four other numbered preparations and a brigade to make them. The critical omission for a modern cook is that the filled molds must be gently poached and chilled to set the forcemeat before they are ever breaded and fried.

A Little History

The Epicurean (1894) is Charles Ranhofer's record of his years running the kitchen at Delmonico's in New York, and the timbale section is where that kitchen's ambitions are clearest: a run of numbered variations, each distinguished less by flavor than by the geometry of its garnish and the sauce sent up beside it. The name follows the house habit of borrowing from the stage and the popular novel — Henri de Lagardère is the swordsman hero of Paul Féval's Le Bossu (1857), and the attribution is likely the usual sort of compliment rather than any claim about origin. The dish itself is pure French garde-manger practice of the period: a salpicon, meaning meat and mushrooms diced small and bound in a thick sauce, hidden inside a poached mousseline of chicken, then breaded and fried so that the truffle-and-tongue pattern set in the butter emerges intact on the outside. Beef palates in the filling are the giveaway of a professional larder that wasted nothing and prized texture over assertiveness; they disappeared from American cooking along with the kind of kitchen that had the labor to clean them.