The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 983

Rothschild Timeales

Timbales a la Rothschild

Decorate the bottom of each buttered timbale mold (No. 2, Fig. 137) with a thin round slice of truffle measuring three-quarters of an inch in diameter; around the sides range six lozenge shaped pieces of the truffle, each one divided by a round bit of truffle an eighth of an inch across, and more of the same sized and shaped pieces at both tips of the lozenges, making eighteen small rounds in all. Fill the bottom and sides with a chicken cream forcemeat (No. 75), and lay in the center a ball, half an inch in diameter, composed of foies-gras taken from a terrine and rubbed through a sieve; fill the mold with more forcemeat then poach and finish the same as for No. 959. Serve separately a puree of chestnuts (No. 712), diluted with veloute sauce (No. 415) and cream to the consistency of a sauce, incorporating into it at the last moment, a piece of melted fresh butter.

For the Modern Kitchen

Ranhofer writes for a brigade with a numbered reference book at hand, so this reads as a set of instructions to other cooks rather than a standalone recipe. The cross-references are the main obstacle; once they are unpacked the dish is a straightforward chicken mousseline poached in decorated molds.

A Little History

The Epicurean (1894) is Charles Ranhofer's record of thirty years as chef at Delmonico's in New York, and this page shows the house at its most French: a garnish named for a family, coded by two ingredients. In nineteenth-century kitchens "a la Rothschild" signalled truffle and foie gras together, the shorthand for unlimited expense, and the name attaches to a scatter of dishes from garnished poultry to the candied-fruit souffle Rothschild generally credited to Careme's circle in the service of the banking family. The mosaic of truffle lozenges and dots set in butter at the bottom of a mold belongs to the older tradition of decorated cold entrees carried over into hot work, where the pattern is only revealed when the timbale is turned out. That such patience was spent on a side dish, one of hundreds numbered in sequence, is the clearest measure of how a Gilded Age restaurant kitchen was staffed.