How to make croquettes
Tips on how to prepare these deep-fried balls of deliciousness, plus a recipe for one that tastes like fried chicken salad.
SEE, this is why I’m glad I’m not learning English as a second language. If I were a native Bhutanese Dzongha speaker, for example, I’d be hard-pressed to differentiate between the King of the Wild Frontier, a bite-size, deep-fried treat and a lawn game of wooden balls and mallets. Being a Sanguine-American, though, I know immediately that it’s Crockett, croquette and croquet.
And, while all three are undeniably a few of my favourite things, today we’ll focus on the treat and save Fess Parker and his wickets for another day. Today is all about croquettes.
Why you need to learn this
As the heart longs for flowing streams, so longs my soul to put leftovers to good use. And leftovers disguised as croquettes? Why, they’re like those aliens that walk among us in human form: you’ll never know.
Until it’s too late.
The steps you take
The word “croquette” takes its name from the French and simply means crunchy and small. Like a June bug. Tantalisingly old-school, the outside of a well-made croquette is fried to a Pavlovian golden brown, with an inside as tender and moist as the tears of an orphaned squid.
While modern croquettes typically are made from scratch, the original intent was to use up delicious bits of leftover meat, poultry, fish, vegetables ... you name it. Now, I’m no Carl Linnaeus, but, a croquettish taxonomy might argue for a couple of general categories: those bound with a thick sauce and those bound with egg.
The first category uses your basic leftovers: grilled chicken, baked ham, roasted saddle of veal (as if!). Those main ingredients are minced (or ground handily in your food processer) and mixed with other flavouring ingredients (onions, celery, herbs, etc.). Make sure everything is minced fine enough to produce that tender moistitude we referenced earlier. Then the whole shebang is cohered with a very thick bechamel (milk thickened with white roux) or veloute (white stock thickened with blond roux).
As you’ll no doubt recall, the ratio for the average mother sauce is eight parts liquid to one part roux. For croquettes, though, you need a sauce thick enough to wear a dunce cap, about a 2-to-1 ratio. That way, when you chill it, it becomes stiffer than a nun’s wimple and easy to form into various shapes.
Now, the ink from that previous sentence isn’t even dry and I can already hear your plaintive cry, “What’s the ratio of sauce to main ingredient?” Well, you want very roughly about a 2-to-1 ratio of main ingredient to sauce, or, just enough sauce to hold everything together.
The second group of croquette varietals have nothing but egg to bind them, usually about one egg per pound (450g) of main ingredient. These croquettes often are based on potato or seafood.
Leftover mashed potatoes make for great croquettes, and you can add other flavouring ingredients as instructed by your alien overlords: bacon, ground beef, cheese, herbs, whatever sounds good. Just make sure all the ingredients are cooked beforehand (except for cheese and herbs) and finely minced for that luscious interior.
Unlike most other croquettes, the main ingredient for the seafood variety may start off fresh or cooked. Also, the result can be indistinguishable from what we might call a crabcake or salmon patty.
Regardless of the main ingredient or the particular species of croquette, what they all have in common is a breadcrumb coating. I recommend a classic three-step breading: Dredge the formed croquettes in flour, then dunk them in egg wash before tossing them with breadcrumbs. After that, the whole lot is fried in oil to that crisp, golden brown we were talking about.
Now, here’s a piece of very good advice: Don’t form all your croquettes until you have formed, cooked and tasted one. If it’s right, go ahead and make the rest. If it needs fixing (more salt, for example), fix it, then form and cook another one. See, you want to avoid making the whole batch only to find there’s something wrong, such as they need more salt, or less. What could be worse?
The last thing I’ll mention is the great culinary truth that pretty much everything, croquettes included, needs a sauce. Try not to blanch, Blanch; it’s not as bad as all that. Croquettes are fried. Serve a sauce with it, even if it’s just ketchup.
Now, go make us some dadgum croquettes.
CHICKEN CROQUETTES Makes about 20 croquettes
Tasters in the test kitchen thought these croquettes tasted like fried chicken salad – a glorious thing indeed.
1 rib celery, minced
1/2 small onion, minced
1 clove garlic, minced
120g butter
1 cup flour
2 cups chicken broth, milk or mixture of both
675g cooked chicken meat, shredded or cubed
2 tsp freshly chopped parsley leaves Salt and pepper as needed Vegetable oil as needed
breading
Flour as needed, about 1 cup 2 eggs mixed with 1 tablespoon water
Breadcrumbs as needed, about 1 cup In a heavy-bottom saucepan over medium-high heat, cook celery, onion and garlic in butter until soft, 3-4 minutes. Sprinkle 1 cup flour over and cook, stirring, 3 minutes. Stir in broth, bring to a boil, then reduce heat and simmer, stirring, 5 minutes. Remove from heat.
Fold in chicken and parsley; season to taste with salt and pepper, then refrigerate until cold, about 1 hour.
For breading, place flour, egg wash and breadcrumbs in separate shallow bowls. Form croquettes by rolling 60g of chicken mixture into spheres or cylinders. Dredge each cylinder in flour, dip in egg wash, then coat in breadcrumbs.
Heat 5cm of oil in a heavy-bottom pot to 180°C. Fry croquettes, in batches, turning occasionally, until golden brown on all sides and warmed through, 2 to 3 minutes. Drain croquettes on paper towels. Repeat with remaining ingredients; serve immediately.