1950s Archive

Chafing Dish Cookery

Originally Published November 1951

When the old Ritz was the new Ritz, and Irene and Vernon Castle danced in the Crystal Room, and the orchestra at dinner played the new melodies from Naughty Marietta… that was an era of unhurried dinners and leisurely suppers, of flawless meals flawlessly served. Theodore, maître d'hôtel of beloved memory, personally saw to the finishing of sauces, the serving flourishes, the little niceties for which there was time in those days. He was like a stage director, and his waiters were like talented actors, deftly handling their roles under his skilled eye. It was not a small-scale operation, for it was not unusual for us to serve more than a thousand covers at dinner and at supper after the theater and the Opera. Yet Theodore would never have dreamed of allowing a lobster Newberg or terrapin Maryland or crêpes Suzette to be served in his dining rooms except from a chafing dish.

The kitchen of the old Ritz had more than one hundred chafing dishes, of all sizes, and each one of them saw use several times every evening. The shining copper pans, reflecting the flickering blue flame beneath, and the candlelight on the table always seemed to say: “Here is savoir faire.” The gourmet who was served a portion of caneton à la rouennaise, enticingly hot under the cover of the blazer pan. may have appreciated the picturesque charm of the chafing dish more than its utilitarian aspects, but behind the scenes we leaned heavily on the chafing dish because it is so practical and so convenient. This is as true for the hostess who entertains a group of friends at home as it is for the chef and maître d'hôtel in a great restaurant.

The Ritz did not ordinarily undertake outside catering assignments, but there were two occasions on which I, as chef, worked with the maître d'hôtel, whose responsibility service ordinarily is, to stage elaborate parties outside the hotel. Then our chafing dishes were absolute necessities.

Judge Gary was the host at one of these parties, and the guest of honor was Queen Marie of Romania, whose visit to New York enlivened the social season after the first of the World Wars. The Judge's magnificent home stood where the Hotel Pierre does now, one of the finest old houses in New York. The Judge was an habitué of the Ritz and so valued a guest that we could not refuse his request. It was no easy task for me to supervise all the preliminary preparation at the hotel, cooking and packing, and to make sure at the same time that all the last-minute cooking in the kitchen at the house on Fifth Avenue was under control. Without our battery of chafing dishes we would never have been able to provide the fond and service the Judge and his guests expected. That supper was the most brilliant event of the social season that year.

Whitelaw Reid was another special guest who asked for and received this catering service from the Ritz. Mr. Reid's house occupied the block on Madison Avenue opposite Saint Patrick's Cathedral, and he gave fabulous parties there. Dishes of lobster, chicken, sweetbreads and mushrooms, all of them sauced, had to be kept hot over a long period of serving—the chefs stationed at the buffer table served everything hot and fragrant from the indispensable chafing dishes.

At private parties and in the hotel dining rooms the Ritz's service was Continental, exactly like the service at the Ritz Hotels in London and Paris. Roasted meat was served from a tortue, a huge platter with deep pockets to hold the sauce and garnishes. The platter is kept hot over hot water and is covered with an enormous silver dome that makes it look like a turtle, or tortue. The tortue is mounted on legs with casters, to be rolled to the guest's table. The gentleman in charge of the tortue is a trancheur, a man who has had some training as a chef and some as a maître d'hôtel. He is always very competent and as skillful with a knife as a surgeon.

Dishes to be served with sauce are served Continental fashion in two different ways. A delicate sauce that might curdle is served in a chafing dish because the lower pan of hot water protects it from excessive heat. Foods that can stand the direct heat of the flame without curdling or toughening are kept hot on réchauds, small copper and brass table heaters. These refinements of serving are not seen often today. There are still some restaurants which use chafing dishes and réchauds, but when you see a tortue rolled to your table and the roast carved to order, then you know you are in a restaurant of genuine distinction. And you will remark the superior flavor and succulence of meat that is freshly sliced and served without delay.

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