A GUIDE TO MODERN COOKERY
[
]A GUIDE TO MODERN COOKERY.
SOME PRESS OPINIONS.
“This is probably one of the most important cookery books issued this century, and will, it may be presumed, eventually take its place alongside the familiar culinary classics of former days. It is especially interesting as marking the inauguration of an entirely new style of living. M. Escoffier’s book is a culinary education in itself, and should take rank as a standard, be studied by all housekeepers who have either large households or gourmets to cater for, and should most certainly be placed in the hands of all persons training for high-class cookery teachers.”—Queen.
“His book is comprehensive. It begins at the beginning and explains the principles, so that a lady who reads it may talk learnedly to her cook; it deals fully with all the old-established dishes of different countries; but its main feature is the number of delightful novelties which it introduces to notice. There are plenty of recipes which may be applied with advantage in the middle-class household where the lady in the kitchen has nobody under her, for M. Escoffier’s directions deal alike with humble and elaborate preparations.”—Outlook.
“It is a big book written by a great cook, and it will be useful not only to accomplished cooks and experienced housekeepers, but also to beginners in the kitchen and the housekeeper’s room, for M. Escoffier takes nothing for granted and explains very patiently all the groundwork of the art of cookery before he discussed the haute cuisine. It contains much that is interesting to the gourmet as well as much that is useful to the cook, for he has little tales to tell concerning some of the dishes; and now and again a scrap of history crops up.”—Tatler.
“Even as you take up the volume a sense of pleasurable anticipation takes possession of you, so pleasing is the cover, so clear and bold is the type, and so delightful to the touch is the paper on which is printed the garnered wisdom of the famous chef. A little reading will soon show you that it is as full of sound wisdom, and of fresh and interesting information, as Brillat-Savarin’s “Physiologie du Goût”
.”—The Westminster Gazette.
“The ordinary good plain British cook will discover something worth the learning on every page; the worried mistresses of small establishments will cherish the book as a treasure-house of new ideas; the man who likes a good dinner but has no special knowledge of the art of the kitchen will find the preface and the introductions to the chapters capital reading; and every English-speaking gourmet will have a well thumbed copy of this very modern “Guide” upon his book-shelf. The book is a comprehensive one, and at the same time a simple one. It is a book that should be in every house.”—Pall Mall Gazette.
[iii]
]A GUIDE TO
MODERN COOKERY
BY
A. ESCOFFIER
OF THE CARLTON HOTEL
WITH PORTRAIT
NEW AND REVISED EDITION
LONDON: WILLIAM HEINEMANN
[iv]
]Printed in Great Britain.
First Printed, May 1907
Second Impression, December 1907
New and Revised Edition, January 1909
New Impressions, August 1911, May 1913,
March 1916, January 1920.
Copyright 1907 by William Heinemann.
[v]
]PREFACE
If the art of Cookery in all its branches were not undergoing a process of evolution, and if its canons could be once and for ever fixed, as are those of certain scientific operations and mathematical procedures, the present work would have no raison d’être; inasmuch as there already exist several excellent culinary text-books in the English language. But everything is so unstable in these times of progress at any cost, and social customs and methods of life alter so rapidly, that a few years now suffice to change completely the face of usages which at their inception bade fair to outlive the age—so enthusiastically were they welcomed by the public.
In regard to the traditions of the festal board, it is but twenty years ago since the ancestral English customs began to make way before the newer methods, and we must look to the great impetus given to travelling by steam traction and navigation, in order to account for the gradual but unquestionable revolution.
In the wake of the demand came the supply. Palatial hotels were built, sumptuous restaurants were opened, both of which offered their customers luxuries undreamt of theretofore in such establishments.
Modern society contracted the habit of partaking of light suppers in these places, after the theatres of the Metropolis had closed; and the well-to-do began to flock to them on Sundays, in order to give their servants the required weekly rest. And, since restaurants allow of observing and of being observed, since they are eminently adapted to the exhibiting of magnificent dresses, it was not long before they entered into the life of Fortune’s favourites.
But these new-fangled habits had to be met by novel methods of Cookery—better adapted to the particular environment in which they were to be practised. The admirable productions popularised by the old Masters of the Culinary Art of the [vi] ]preceding Century did not become the light and more frivolous atmosphere of restaurants; were, in fact, ill-suited to the brisk waiters, and their customers who only had eyes for one another.
The pompous splendour of those bygone dinners, served in the majestic dining-halls of Manors and Palaces, by liveried footmen, was part and parcel of the etiquette of Courts and lordly mansions.
It is eminently suited to State dinners, which are in sooth veritable ceremonies, possessing their ritual, traditions, and—one might even say—their high priests; but it is a mere hindrance to the modern, rapid service. The complicated and sometimes heavy menus would be unwelcome to the hypercritical appetites so common nowadays; hence the need of a radical change not only in the culinary preparations themselves, but in the arrangements of the menus, and the service.
Circumstances ordained that I should be one of the movers in this revolution, and that I should manage the kitchens of two establishments which have done most to bring it about. I therefore venture to suppose that a book containing a record of all the changes which have come into being in kitchen work—changes whereof I am in a great part author—may have some chance of a good reception at the hands of the public, i.e., at the hands of those very members of it who have profited by the changes I refer to.
For it was only with the view of meeting the many and persistent demands for such a record that the present volume was written.
I had at first contemplated the possibility of including only new recipes in this formulary. But it should be borne in mind that the changes that have transformed kitchen procedure during the last twenty-five years could not all be classed under the head of new recipes; for, apart from the fundamental principles of the science, which we owe to Carême, and which will last as long as Cooking itself, scarcely one old-fashioned method has escaped the necessary new moulding required by modern demands. For fear of giving my work an incomplete appearance, therefore, I had to refer to these old-fashioned practices and to include among my new recipes those of the former which most deserved to survive. But it should not be forgotten that in a few years, judging from the rate at which things are going, the publication of a fresh selection of recipes may become necessary; I hope to live long enough to see this accomplished, in order that I may follow the evolution, started in my time, and add a few more original creations to those I have already [-9] ]had the pleasure of seeing adopted; despite the fact that the discovery of new dishes grows daily more difficult.
But novelty is the universal cry—novelty by hook or by crook! It is an exceedingly common mania among people of inordinate wealth to exact incessantly new or so-called new dishes. Sometimes the demand comes from a host whose luxurious table has exhausted all the resources of the modern cook’s repertory, and who, having partaken of every delicacy, and often had too much of good things, anxiously seeks new sensations for his blasé palate. Anon, we have a hostess, anxious to outshine friends with whom she has been invited to dine, and whom she afterwards invites to dine with her.
Novelty! It is the prevailing cry; it is imperiously demanded by everyone.
For all that, the number of alimentary substances is comparatively small, the number of their combinations is not infinite, and the amount of raw material placed either by art or by nature at the disposal of a cook does not grow in proportion to the whims of the public.
What feats of ingenuity have we not been forced to perform, at times, in order to meet our customers’ wishes? Those only who have had charge of a large, modern kitchen can tell the tale. Personally, I have ceased counting the nights spent in the attempt to discover new combinations, when, completely broken with the fatigue of a heavy day, my body ought to have been at rest.
Yet, the Chef who has had the felicity to succeed in turning out an original and skilful preparation approved by his public and producing a vogue, cannot, even for a time, claim the monopoly of his secret discovery, or derive any profit therefrom. The painter, sculptor, writer and musician are protected by law. So are inventors. But the chef has absolutely no redress for plagiarism on his work; on the contrary, the more the latter is liked and appreciated, the more will people clamour for his recipes. Many hours of hard work perhaps underlie his latest creation, if it have reached the desired degree of perfection.
He may have forfeited his recreation and even his night’s rest, and have laboured without a break over his combination; and, as a reward, he finds himself compelled, morally at least, to convey the result of his study to the first person who asks, and who, very often, subsequently claims the invention of the recipe—to the detriment of the real author’s chances and reputation.
This frantic love of novelty is also responsible for many of [viii] ]the difficulties attending the arrangement of menus; for very few people know what an arduous task the composing of a perfect menu represents.
The majority—even of those who are accustomed to receptions and the giving of dinners—suppose that a certain routine alone is necessary, together with some culinary practice, in order to write a menu; and few imagine that a good deal more is needed than the mere inscription of Courses upon a slip of pasteboard.
In reality the planning of these alimentary programmes is among the most difficult problems of our art, and it is in this very matter that perfection is so rarely reached. In the course of more than forty years’ experience as a chef, I have been responsible for thousands of menus, some of which have since become classical and have ranked among the finest served in modern times; and I can safely say, that in spite of the familiarity such a period of time ought to give one with the work, the setting-up of a presentable menu is rarely accomplished without lengthy labour and much thought, and for all that the result is not always to my satisfaction. From this it may be seen how slender are the claims of those who, without any knowledge of our art, and quite unaware of the various properties belonging to the substances we use, pretend to arrange a proper menu.
However difficult the elaboration of a menu may be, it is but the first and by no means the only difficulty which results from the rapidity with which meals are served nowadays. The number of dishes set before the diners being considerably reduced, and the dishes themselves having been deprived of all the advantages which their sumptuous decorations formerly lent them, they must recover, by means of perfection and delicacy, sufficient in the way of quality to compensate for their diminished bulk and reduced splendour. They must be faultless in regard to quality; they must be savoury and light. The choice of the raw material, therefore, is a matter demanding vast experience on the part of the chef; for the old French adage which says that “La sauce fait passer le poisson” has long since ceased to be true, and if one do not wish to court disapprobation—often well earned—the fish should not be in the slightest degree inferior to its accompanying sauce.
While on the subject of raw material, I should like, en passant, to call attention to a misguided policy which seems to be spreading in private houses and even in some commercial establishments; I refer to the custom which, arising as it doubtless [ix] ]does from a mistaken idea of economy, consists of entrusting the choice of kitchen provisions to people unacquainted with the profession, and who, never having used the goods which they have to buy, are able to judge only very superficially of their quality or real value, and cannot form any estimate of their probable worth after the cooking process.
If economy were verily the result of such a policy none would object to it. But the case is exactly the reverse; for, in the matter of provisions, as in all commercial matters, the cheapest is the dearest in the end. To obtain good results, good material in a sufficient quantity must be used, and, in order to obtain good material, the latter should be selected by the person who is going to use it, and who knows its qualities and properties. Amphitryons who set aside these essential principles may hope in vain to found a reputation for their tables.
It will be seen that the greater part of the titles in this work have been left in French. I introduced, or rather promulgated this system, because, since it is growing every day more customary to write menus in French, it will allow those who are unacquainted with the language to accomplish the task with greater ease. Moreover, many of the titles—especially those of recent creations—are quite untranslatable. As the index, however, is in English, and in every case the order number of each recipe accompanies the number of the page where it is to be found, no confusion can possibly arise. I have also allowed certain French technical terms, for which there exist no English equivalents, to remain in their original form, and these will be found explained in a glossary at the end of the book.
I preferred to do this rather than strain the meaning of certain English words, in order to fit them to a slightly unusual application; and in so doing I only followed a precedent which has been established on a more or less large scale by such authors of English books on French cooking as Francatelli, Gouffé, Ranhoffer, etc.
But the example for such verbal adoptions was set long ago in France, where sporting and other terms, for which no suitable native words could be found, were borrowed wholesale from the English language, and gallicised. It is therefore not unreasonable to apply the principle to terms in cookery which, though plentiful and varied in France, are scarce in this country.
To facilitate the reading of the recipes, all words which are not in common use, and of which the explanation will be found in the [Glossary], are italicised in the text.
In concluding this preface, which, I fear, has already [x] ]overreached the bounds I intended for it, I should like to thank those of my lady clients as well as many English epicures whose kind appreciation has been conducive to the writing of this work. I trust they will favour the latter with the generous consideration of which they have so frequently given the author valuable proofs, and for which he is glad of an opportunity of expressing his deep gratitude.
[xi]
]CONTENTS
[xiii]
]GLOSSARY
- Abats, stands for such butcher’s supplies as heads, hearts, livers, kidneys, feet, &c.
- Aiguillettes, see No. [1755].
- Ailerons, see No. [1583].
- Amourettes, see No. [1288].
- Anglaise, to treat à l’Anglaise, see No. [174].
- Anglaise, to cook à l’Anglaise, means to cook plainly in water.
- Anglaise, a preparation of beaten eggs, oil and seasoning.
- Attereaux, see No. [1219].
- Baba-moulds, a kind of small deep cylindrical mould, slightly wider at the top than at the bottom.
- Bain-Marie, a hot-water bath in which utensils containing various culinary preparations are immersed to keep warm, or for the purpose of poaching or cooking.
- Barquettes, see No. [314].
- Biscottes, a kind of rusks.
- Blanch, Blanched, see No. [273].
- Brandade, see No. [1027]
- .
- Brunoise-fashion, see [Cut] below.
- Canapés, see No. [316].
- Caramel Stage, see [Stages in the Cooking of Sugar], below.
- Casserole (En), see No. [250].
- Cassolette, a kind of hot hors-d’œuvre, moulded to the shape of a small drum.
- Cèpes, a kind of mushroom (Boletus edulis).
- Chartreuse-fashion, see No. [1220].
- Chiffonade, see No. [215].
- Chinois, a very small green candied orange.
- Chipolata, a kind of small sausages.
- Choux, a kind of cake made from Pâte à Choux, [q.v.]
- Cisel, Ciseled, to cut a vegetable after the manner of a chaff-cutting machine.
- Clothe, Clothed, Clothing (of moulds), see No. [916].
- Cocotte (En), see No. [250].
- Concass, Concassed, to chop roughly.
- [xiv]
]Contise, to incise a piece of meat at stated intervals, and to insert slices of truffle, or other substance, into each incision. - Crépinettes, see No. [1410].
- Croustade, see No. [2393].
- Croûtons, pieces of bread of various shapes and sizes, fried in butter. In the case of aspic jelly, croûtons stand for variously shaped pieces used in bordering dishes.
- Cut, Brunoise-fashion = to cut a product into small dice.
- Cut, Julienne-fashion = to cut a product into match-shaped rods.
- Cut, Paysanne-fashion = to cut a product into triangles.
- Dariole-moulds, small Baba-moulds, [q.v.]
- Darne, see No. [784]
- .
- Daubière, an earthenware utensil used in the cooking of Daubes.
- Écarlate (A l’), salted meat is said to be à l’écarlate when it is swathed in a coat of scarlet jelly.
- Escarole, Batavia chicory.
- Feuilletés, a kind of puffs made from puff-paste.
- Flute (French, soup), a long crisp roll of bread.
- Fondue, (1) a cheese preparation; (2) a pulpy state to which such vegetables as tomatoes, sorrel, &c., are reduced by cooking.
- Fumet, a kind of essence extracted from fish, game, &c.
- Galette, a large quoit, made from puff-paste or short-paste, &c.
- Gaufrette, a special wafer.
- Génoise, see No. [2376].
- Gild, Gilding, Gilded (1) to cover an object with beaten eggs, by means of a brush; (2) to give a golden sheen to objects by means of heat.
- Gratin, Gratined, see No. [268] to 272 inclusive.
- Hatelet, an ornamental skewer; the word sometimes stands for [Attereaux].
- Julienne, Julienne-fashion, see [Cut].
- Langoustine, a small variety of the Spiny Lobster.
- Large-Ball Stage, see [Stages in the Cooking of Sugar], below.
- Large-Crack Stage, see [Stages in the Cooking of Sugar], below.
- Large-Thread Stage, see [Stages in the Cooking of Sugar], below.
- Macédoine, a mixture of early-season vegetables or fruit.
- Madeleine-mould, a mould in the shape of a narrow scallop-shell.
- Manied (said of butter), see No. [151].
- Marinade, see No. [168].
- Meringue, see No. [2382]. Meringued = coated with meringue.
- Mirepoix, see No. [228].
- Mise-en-place, a general name given to those elementary preparations which are constantly resorted to during the various stages of most culinary operations.
- Morue, Newfoundland or Iceland salt-cod.
- Mousses, a class of light, hot or cold preparations of fish, meat, poultry, game, etc., and sweets, moulded in large moulds in sufficient quantities for several people.
- [xv]
]Mousselines, same as above, but moulded in small quantities at a time, enough for one person. - Mousserons, a kind of mushroom.
- Nappe Stage, see [Stages in the Cooking of Sugar], below.
- Orgeat, a beverage made from syrup and almonds.
- Oxalis, a Mexican vegetable, allied to sorrel, of which the roots principally are eaten.
- Paillettes au Parmesan, see No. [2322].
- Palmettes, palm-shaped pieces of puff-paste, used in decorating.
- Panés à l’Anglaise, treated à l’Anglaise, see [Anglaise].
- Pannequets, see No. [2403].
- Papillote, see No. [1259].
- Pâte à Choux, see No. [2373].
- Paupiette, a strip of chicken, of fish fillet, or other meat, garnished with forcemeat, rolled to resemble a scroll and cooked.
- Paysanne-fashion, see [Cut].
- Pluches, the shreds of chervil, used for soups.
- Poële, Poëling, see No. [250].
- Poêle (A la), see No. [395].
- Pralin, see No. [2352].
- Pralined, having been treated with Pralin, [q.v.]
- Printanier (Eng. Vernal), a name given to a garnish of early-season vegetables, cut to various shapes.
- Profiterolles, see No. [218].
- Râble, the back of a hare.
- Ravioli, see No. [2296].
- Ribbon Stage, see No. [2376].
- Rissole, to fry brown.
- Salpicon, a compound of various products, cut into dice, and, generally, cohered with sauce or forcemeat.
- Sauté, Sautéd, a process of cooking described under No. [251].
- Sauté, a qualifying term applied to dishes treated in the way described under No. [251].
- Savarin-mould, an even, crown-shaped mould.
- Small-Ball Stage, see [Stages in the Cooking of Sugar], below.
- Small-Crack Stage, see [Stages in the Cooking of Sugar], below.
- Small-Thread Stage, see [Stages in the Cooking of Sugar], below.
- Soufflé, name given to a class of light, hot or cold preparations of fish, meat, poultry, game, etc., and sweets, to which the whites of eggs are usually added if the preparation is served hot, and to which whisked cream is added if the preparation is served cold.
- Soup-Flute, see [Flute].
- Stages in the Cooking of Sugar:—
- Small-Thread
Large-Thread
Small-Ball
[xvi]
]Large-Ball
Small-Crack
Large-Crack
Caramel - See No. [2344].
Nappe, see No. [2955].- Subrics, see No. [2137].
- Suprême, a name given to the fillet of the breast of a fowl. The term has been extended to certain of the best parts of fish, game, etc.
- Terrine, a patty.
- Terrine à Pâté, a special utensil in which patties are cooked.
- Tomatéd. Preparations are said to be tomatéd when they are mixed with enough tomato purée for the shade and flavour of the latter to be distinctly perceptible in them.
- Vesiga, the dried spine-marrow of the sturgeon.
- Zest, the outermost, coloured, glossy film of the rind of an orange or lemon.
[1]
]PART I
FUNDAMENTAL ELEMENTS OF COOKING
CHAPTER I
FONDS DE CUISINE
Before undertaking the description of the different kinds of dishes whose recipes I purpose giving in this work, it will be necessary to reveal the groundwork whereon these recipes are built. And, although this has already been done again and again, and is wearisome in the extreme, a text-book on cooking that did not include it would be not only incomplete, but in many cases incomprehensible.
Notwithstanding the fact that it is the usual procedure, in culinary matters, to insist upon the importance of the part played by stock, I feel compelled to refer to it at the outset of this work, and to lay even further stress upon what has already been written on the subject.
Indeed, stock is everything in cooking, at least in French cooking. Without it, nothing can be done. If one’s stock is good, what remains of the work is easy; if, on the other hand, it is bad or merely mediocre, it is quite hopeless to expect anything approaching a satisfactory result.
The workman mindful of success, therefore, will naturally direct his attention to the faultless preparation of his stock, and, in order to achieve this result, he will find it necessary not merely to make use of the freshest and finest goods, but also to exercise the most scrupulous care in their preparation, for, in cooking, care is half the battle. Unfortunately, no theories, no formulæ, and no recipes, however well written, can take the place of practical experience in the acquisition of a full knowledge concerning this part of the work—the most important, the most essential, and certainly the most difficult part.
In the matter of stock it is, above all, necessary to have a sufficient quantity of the finest materials at one’s disposal. The master or mistress of a house who stints in this respect thereby deliberately forfeits his or her right to make any remark [2] ]whatsoever to the chef concerning his work, for, let the talent or merits of the latter be what they may, they are crippled by insufficient or inferior material. It is just as absurd to exact excellent cooking from a chef whom one provides with defective or scanty goods, as to hope to obtain wine from a bottled decoction of logwood.
The Principal Kinds of Fonds de Cuisine (Foundation Sauces and Stocks)
The principal kinds of fonds de cuisine are:—
1. Ordinary and clarified consommés.
2. The brown stock or “estouffade,” game stocks, the bases of thickened gravies and of brown sauces.
3. White stock, basis of white sauces.
4. Fish stock.
5. The various essences of poultry, game, fish, &c., the complements of small sauces.
6. The various glazes: meat, game, and poultry.
7. The basic sauces: Espagnole, Velouté, Béchamel, Tomato, and Hollandaise.
8. The savoury jellies or aspics of old-fashioned cooking.
To these kinds of stock, which, in short, represent the buttresses of the culinary edifice, must now be added the following preparations, which are, in a measure, the auxiliaries of the above:—
1. The roux, the cohering element in sauces.
2. The “[Mirepoix]” and “Matignon” aromatic and flavouring elements.
3. The “Court-Bouillon” and the “Blancs.”
4. The various stuffings.
5. The [marinades].
6. The various garnishes for soups, for relevés, for entrées, &c. (“Duxelle,” “Duchesse,” “Dauphine,” [Pâte à choux], frying batters, various [Salpicons], [Profiterolles]
, Royales, Œufs filés, Diablotins, Pastes, &c.).
[1—ORDINARY OR WHITE CONSOMMÉ]
Quantities for making Four Quarts.
3 lbs. of shin of beef.
3 lbs. of lean beef.
1½ lbs. of fowls’ carcases.
1 lb. of carrots.
½ lb. of turnips.
¾ lb. of leeks and 1 stick of celery.
¼ lb. of parsnips.
1 medium-sized onion with a clove stuck in it.
[3]
]Preparation.—Put the meat into a stock-pot of suitable dimensions, after having previously strung it together; add the poultry carcase, five quarts of water, and one-half oz. of grey salt. Place the stock-pot on a moderate fire in such a manner that it may not boil too quickly, and remember to stir the meat from time to time. Under the influence of the heat, the water gradually reaches the interior of the meat, where, after having dissolved the liquid portions, it duly combines with them. These liquid portions contain a large proportion of albumen, and as the temperature of the water rises this substance has a tendency to coagulate. It also increases in volume, and, by virtue of its lightness, escapes from the water and accumulates on the surface in the form of scum. Carefully remove this scum as it forms, and occasionally add a little cold water before the boil is reached in order that, the latter being retarded, a complete expulsion of the scum may be effected. The clearness of the consommé largely depends upon the manner in which this skimming has been carried out. Then the vegetable garnishing is added. The scum from these is removed as in the previous case, and the edge of the stock-pot should be carefully wiped to the level of the fluid, so as to free it from the deposit which has been formed there. The stock-pot is then moved to a corner of the fire where it may continue cooking slowly for four or five hours. At the end of this time it should be taken right away from the fire, and, after half a pint of cold water has been added to its contents, it should be left to rest a few minutes with a view to allowing the grease to accumulate on the surface of the liquid, whence it must be carefully removed before the consommé is strained. This last operation is effected by means of a very fine strainer, placed on the top of a white tureen (clean and wide), which should then be placed in a draught to hasten the cooling of the consommé. The tureen should not on any account be covered, and this more particularly in summer, when rapid cooling is a precautionary measure against fermentation.