The International Cook Book

Over three thousand recipes from the man who cooked at Delmonico's — French sauces, Italian pastas, Indian curries and American pies, the whole eating world of 1906 in one volume.

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Chicken Saute, Parmentier

Singe, cut head and feet off a tender two-and-a-half-pound chicken, draw, neatly wipe and cut twelve even pieces. Heat two tablespoons melted butter in a sautoire, arrange in the chicken, season with teaspoon salt and half teaspoon pepper, and gently brown ten minutes on each side. Add one ounce ham cut in small squares, six small chopped shallots, and brown five minutes. Remove butter from bottom (and save it). Pour a gill white wine on the chicken and let reduce on fire until nearly dry, then add two gills demi-glace, six sliced, canned mushrooms, juice of quarter of a lemon, half a bean sound, chopped garlic, half teaspoon finely chopped parsley and half teaspoon chopped chives. Mix well. Cover sautoire and cook for fifteen minutes. Dress chicken on a large dish, pour sauce over, arrange a potato noisette around the chicken and serve.

For the Modern Kitchen

A straightforward French sauté in the classical idiom: brown the bird, build a pan sauce, garnish with potatoes. Most of the work of translating it is vocabulary rather than technique.

A Little History

The tag Parmentier on a French menu means one thing: potatoes. It honours Antoine-Augustin Parmentier, the eighteenth-century French pharmacist and agronomist who campaigned to persuade a suspicious public that the potato was fit for people rather than only for livestock, and by the nineteenth century his name had hardened into kitchen shorthand attached to soups, garnishes and hashes built on the tuber. The recipe itself is textbook poulet sauté of the Escoffier era: pieces browned in butter, the fat poured off and saved, the pan deglazed with white wine, and the sauce finished with demi-glace and fine herbs — a method that depends entirely on a house stock pot simmering somewhere out of sight. That it appears here at all reflects the book's origins in the great American hotel and restaurant kitchens of the turn of the century, where French nomenclature was the professional language and a garnish name told the cook exactly what to put on the plate.

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