I admit it. I have fallen behind. Or, I have ceased being ahead, with respect to my Old Foodie posts. Today (by which I mean yesterday, when this was written) I was to going to ‘get ahead’, but things got in the way (as they are wont to do) – and by the time evening came, the lure of dinner at a local Japanese restaurant with friends won. So – today’s post is a cheat. It is a very slightly tweaked version of an article I wrote for a now defunct magazine. It is about delicious frozen things.
Sorbet is not what it used to be. It used to be sherbet (or sherbert), with pretensions of an Italian heritage. But sherbet is also not what it once was. It was certainly not originally a frozen dessert item. And if they were once the same thing, are sorbet and sherbert now different? And what about granita and gelato and frozen punch and (sorry about this one), the violently coloured slushy drinks sold at the movies?
Culinary experts apply the various terms with linguistic abandon, leaving us only with the certainty of iciness. Lawyers of course, are certain - at least in some parts of the world – that the differences are strictly in the proportions of fat and sugar and the inclusion, or not, of dairy produce. It hardly needs to be stated, however, that truth in food is not the primary motivation of the legal system – the sort of system which, in 1893 in the USA determined, in the face of overwhelming botanical evidence to the contrary, that the tomato is a vegetable.
Linguists know the truth about sorbets and sherberts. ‘Sherbert’ derives from the Turkish/Arabic word for ‘drink’. In other words, a sherbet used to be a beverage – a costly beverage to be sure, in its home culture. Early European visitors to those fantastically distant and exotic places described it raptly as a sweetened fruit drink made fragrant with expensive ingredients such as roses, violets, musk and ambergris. Those intrepid adventurers made the best fist they could of the strange language, and the Arabic word gave rise to a multitude of phonetic interpretations from charbe to zerbet. ‘Sorbet’ came about as a result of the phonetic and linguistic coincidence of the Italian verb ‘to drink’ – sorbire – and the name stuck because the Italians became masters of frozen confections during the Renaissance.
So, the original sorbet was a drink. Not frozen, just a drink. As the idea spread beyond its origins to other climes, sometimes the drink was chilled with snow or ice, but the tyranny of climate means that the coldest drinks are desired in the hottest months. The very rich could afford to have ice cut from mountains or frozen lakes and stored in deep pits or caves for summer enjoyment, but most of history’s citizens had to wait for technological progress to bring salt-and-ice churns and eventually refrigeration for all, in order to be able to enjoy such incredible treats.
It constantly surprises me that unlike many other artists, cooks don’t often consciously use the past as an inspiration. Many very old recipes sound amazingly innovative and cutting edge and deserve rediscovering. A manual Containing Original Recipes for Preparing Ices (1851) from that supposedly dull and stodgy English Victorian era contains over one hundred ideas, including for example ‘water ices’ flavoured with aniseed and sweet fennel. The recipe is a variation of a basic vanilla ice, using four ounces of either seed instead of the vanilla.
‘Crush half an ounce of vanilla and a stick of cinnamon, in a mortar, add a pint of water, cover it over, and let it stand for ten hours; then pass it through a sieve, and add the juice of two lemons, if you choose; put in twenty-four ounces of sugar a lisse, and freeze it. This may be varied by using milk instead of water.’
Quotation for the Day.
My advice to you is not to inquire why or whither, but just enjoy your ice cream while it's on your plate that's my philosophy.
Thornton Wilder
Showing posts with label ice-cream. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ice-cream. Show all posts
Friday, October 08, 2010
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
A Missouri Mood.
On this day in 1821, Missouri was admitted as the twenty-fourth state of the Union. The folk of Missouri must take their food seriously, if I am to judge by the twenty-six state symbols given on the state’s official site. Assuming (as I do) that the official state amphibian (the bullfrog) and the official state aquatic animal (the paddlefish) can be eaten, then the eight of the twenty-six symbols could find their way onto your plate. I await correction from readers in Missouri.
The other six edible state symbols are:
State fruit: Norton Cyanthia grape
State tree: The Eastern Black Walnut.
State game bird: The Bobwhite Quail
State fish: Channel catfish.
State dessert: Ice cream cone.
State invertebrate: The crayfish (crawfish or crawdad)
The Norton Cyanthia grape is very important to the Missouri wine industry. It is, I understand, a deep bluish purple colour, which indicates it is stuffed full of acanthocyanins, which we are told are good for the health. I have no idea how useful, or how much used they are as table grapes or for cooking, but feel sure they must have some value. To celebrate the day therefore, I thought a nice grape ice-cream might be in order – although, looking at the list, it looks like an entire meal could be made from state symbols, if that would not be some sort of treasonous or sacrilegious act.
The book Cooking for Profit … (1893), by Jessup Whitehead has a recipe for White Grape Ice Cream, which simply says “Make the same as for white cherries”. The book however also gives a recipe for Red Cherry Ice-Cream, and it seems more sensible to use this with the Norton Cyanthia grape.
Red Cherry Ice-Cream
4 cups cream
2 cups sugar
5 cups red cherries
½ cup water
Use only the light red cherries for this purpose, for the dark kinds make an unpleasant color.
Boil the water and sugar together and drops the cherries in. Let simmer at the side of the range a few minutes without stirring or breaking them. Then strain the syrup into the freezer and set the fruit on ice to be mixed in at last. Add the quart of cream to the syrup in the freezer, freeze and beat up well, then add the cherries and cover down until needed.
Quotation for the Day.
Age does not diminish the extreme disappointment of having a scoop of ice-cream fall from the cone.
Jim Fiebig.
The other six edible state symbols are:
State fruit: Norton Cyanthia grape
State tree: The Eastern Black Walnut.
State game bird: The Bobwhite Quail
State fish: Channel catfish.
State dessert: Ice cream cone.
State invertebrate: The crayfish (crawfish or crawdad)
The Norton Cyanthia grape is very important to the Missouri wine industry. It is, I understand, a deep bluish purple colour, which indicates it is stuffed full of acanthocyanins, which we are told are good for the health. I have no idea how useful, or how much used they are as table grapes or for cooking, but feel sure they must have some value. To celebrate the day therefore, I thought a nice grape ice-cream might be in order – although, looking at the list, it looks like an entire meal could be made from state symbols, if that would not be some sort of treasonous or sacrilegious act.
The book Cooking for Profit … (1893), by Jessup Whitehead has a recipe for White Grape Ice Cream, which simply says “Make the same as for white cherries”. The book however also gives a recipe for Red Cherry Ice-Cream, and it seems more sensible to use this with the Norton Cyanthia grape.
Red Cherry Ice-Cream
4 cups cream
2 cups sugar
5 cups red cherries
½ cup water
Use only the light red cherries for this purpose, for the dark kinds make an unpleasant color.
Boil the water and sugar together and drops the cherries in. Let simmer at the side of the range a few minutes without stirring or breaking them. Then strain the syrup into the freezer and set the fruit on ice to be mixed in at last. Add the quart of cream to the syrup in the freezer, freeze and beat up well, then add the cherries and cover down until needed.
Quotation for the Day.
Age does not diminish the extreme disappointment of having a scoop of ice-cream fall from the cone.
Jim Fiebig.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Charlotte meets Sundae.
There seems to be no end to the variations on the theme of Charlotte Russe. The beauty of today’s recipe find is that it comes from a pharmaceutical publication, which is strongly suggestive of its being a health food, which in turn is strongly encouraging of us consuming more of it. Isn’t it?
Soda Fountains were originally situated in dispensaries, and ‘formulae’ (I almost said ‘recipes’) for sodas and sundaes commonly appeared in publications for pharmacists. The Bulletin of Pharmacy (Detroit, 1912) included in the section called The Soda Fountain, several of the winning formulae from a competition it had just run.
The first prize (of $5) was awarded for a formula for Turkish-Italian Sundae, which sounds very nice (a mound of chocolate ice-cream to represent Italy, and one of peach to represent Turkey, with various additions and decorations), but several others were awarded ‘lesser prizes’, including our feature for the day - the Charlotte Russe Nutae. In this interpretation, it is the creamy filling for the sundae that is referred to as the ‘charlotte russe.’
Beware! this literally makes an industrial quantity!
Charlotte Russe Nutae.
Sweet cream, 20 per cent, 1 quart; powdered sugar, 6 ounces; extract of vanilla, 2 fluid drachms, ice cream powder, 2 teaspoonfuls; chopped nuts (very fine), 6 ounces. Mix by whipping the cream until almost stiff with the sugar, ice cream powder and extract; then add the chopped nuts until the mixture will stand. Having previously made ready one dozen ice-cream saucers, take 24 lady-fingers, slice them into halves and place four of the halves around on each saucer and fill the center with charlotte russe. Then take a small quantity of whipped cream, colored a light red or pink, and decorate the dish, topping off with a maraschino cherry. Sell this for 15 cents. It makes a nice profit.
I am unable to resist giving you another recipe from this Bulletin, on account of its delightful name. This recipe was not offered in the competition, but quoted from another publication called The Liquid Dispenser (which would be a great name for a bar, methinks.)
Mutt and Jeff.
Slice one banana and lay it flat on a split-banana sundae dish. Set one disher chocolate cream at one end, and the same amount of vanilla ice cream at the opposite end. Cut another banana in two unequal lengths, and place it upright in the cream. One fresh marshmallow is placed on top of each banana. Serve with a small slice of orange between the upright banans and decorate the ice cream with a few whole cherries.
If desired, a loaf of sugar saturated with brandy or alcohol can be placed on each marshmallow and then lighted when about to serve.
This novelty must not sell for less than 25 cents.
A little more on the phenomenon of soda fountains tomorrow, perhaps?
Quotation for the Day.
Always serve too much hot fudge sauce on hot fudge sundaes. It makes people overjoyed, and puts them in your debt.
Judith Olney
Soda Fountains were originally situated in dispensaries, and ‘formulae’ (I almost said ‘recipes’) for sodas and sundaes commonly appeared in publications for pharmacists. The Bulletin of Pharmacy (Detroit, 1912) included in the section called The Soda Fountain, several of the winning formulae from a competition it had just run.
The first prize (of $5) was awarded for a formula for Turkish-Italian Sundae, which sounds very nice (a mound of chocolate ice-cream to represent Italy, and one of peach to represent Turkey, with various additions and decorations), but several others were awarded ‘lesser prizes’, including our feature for the day - the Charlotte Russe Nutae. In this interpretation, it is the creamy filling for the sundae that is referred to as the ‘charlotte russe.’
Beware! this literally makes an industrial quantity!
Charlotte Russe Nutae.
Sweet cream, 20 per cent, 1 quart; powdered sugar, 6 ounces; extract of vanilla, 2 fluid drachms, ice cream powder, 2 teaspoonfuls; chopped nuts (very fine), 6 ounces. Mix by whipping the cream until almost stiff with the sugar, ice cream powder and extract; then add the chopped nuts until the mixture will stand. Having previously made ready one dozen ice-cream saucers, take 24 lady-fingers, slice them into halves and place four of the halves around on each saucer and fill the center with charlotte russe. Then take a small quantity of whipped cream, colored a light red or pink, and decorate the dish, topping off with a maraschino cherry. Sell this for 15 cents. It makes a nice profit.
I am unable to resist giving you another recipe from this Bulletin, on account of its delightful name. This recipe was not offered in the competition, but quoted from another publication called The Liquid Dispenser (which would be a great name for a bar, methinks.)
Mutt and Jeff.
Slice one banana and lay it flat on a split-banana sundae dish. Set one disher chocolate cream at one end, and the same amount of vanilla ice cream at the opposite end. Cut another banana in two unequal lengths, and place it upright in the cream. One fresh marshmallow is placed on top of each banana. Serve with a small slice of orange between the upright banans and decorate the ice cream with a few whole cherries.
If desired, a loaf of sugar saturated with brandy or alcohol can be placed on each marshmallow and then lighted when about to serve.
This novelty must not sell for less than 25 cents.
A little more on the phenomenon of soda fountains tomorrow, perhaps?
Quotation for the Day.
Always serve too much hot fudge sauce on hot fudge sundaes. It makes people overjoyed, and puts them in your debt.
Judith Olney
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
A Maize Meal.
Sometimes a cook or producer or marketing guru will stage a dinner in which most or all dishes feature a specific ingredient. We have had several examples in this blog. Some ingredients are obviously more adaptable than others, and maize is quite clearly one of the stars in that regard. The organisers of the menu I give you today however were intent on promoting only one product of maize – the flour. The following story was written some time ago specifically for a bakery industry magazine for which I write regularly. I have tweaked the article slightly for this post, as I thought regular readers might enjoy the menu.
By the mid-ninteenth century America was well and truly aware of the value of maize as a crop, and marketing of products derived from it had already begun. The usefulness of cornstarch (cornflour) for thickening gravy and sauces, and for making light cookies and cakes had been promoted for some time, and in 1864 with the American Civil War dragging on, the manufacturers of one brand of cornflour managed to promote the use of their product as a patriotic duty.
A great exhibition was held in Philadelphia in the first week of June in 1864 in aid of the Sanitary Commission. The Commission had been formed at the beginning of the war in 1861 to improve conditions in Union Army camps and provide medical and hospital care – for which of course it constantly needed funds. The fair’s ‘great, indeed sole aim … is to do good to the sick and wounded of our gallant army; and though the feeling which will prompt all who contribute is that of gratitude to our soldiers, the occasion may be used, incidentally, to bring before the public eye, the varied manufactures of our country … ’
The manufacturer of one brand of cornstarch called Maizena, had a restaurant concession at the fair, and all the items on their bill of fare were made with this product. The menu does not specify whether or not other starches were used in addition to the cornflour, but if they did not, then this would make a fine gluten-free dessert menu for today.
MAIZENA ICE CREAMS
Maizena … Vanilla 15c Maizena … Pineapple 15c
Maizena … Chocolate 15c Maizena … Strawberry 15c
Maizena … Orange 15c Maizena … Lemon 15c
MAIZENA PUDDINGS
Maizena … Cup Lemon Pudding 20c Maizena … Prince Albert Pudding 25c
Maizena … “ Orange Pudding 20c Maizena … Plum 15c
MAIZENA SPONGES AND CUSTARDS.
Maizena … Strawberry Sponge 20c Maizena … Baked Custard 20c
Maizena … Lemon 20c Maizena … Boiled 20c
Maizena … Orange 20c Maizena … Floating Island 25c
Maizena … Charlotte Russe 25c Maizena … Charlotte Fruit 20c
MAIZENA BLANC-MANGE AND JELLIES
Maizena …Blanc-Mange and Syrup 20c Maizena … Wine Jelly 20c
Maizena … “ Plain 15c Maizena … Orange Jelly 20c
MAIZENA FONDANTS
Maizena … Chocolate 10c Maizena … Strawberry 10c
Maizena … Lemon 10c Maizena … Orange 10c
MAIZENA PASTRY AND CAKES
Maizena … Sponge Cake 5c Maizena … Meringues 25c
Maizena … Sultana “ 5c Maizena … Cream Tarts 25c
Maizena … Pound “ 5c Maizena … Wine Cake 15c
Maizena … Croquettes 5c Maizena … Chocolate Meringues 25
Maizena … Cream Puffs 10c Maizena … Tipsey Cake 15c
Maizena … Spanish Puffs 10c Maizena … Meringue Tarts 25c
Maizena … Omelette Comfits 15c Maizena … Pies 15c
By the end of the century the potential value of the crop as an export item was being exploited at every opportunity. During the lead-up to the great Columbian Exhibition in Chicago in 1893, there was a huge public relations campaign to encourage the participation of overseas exhibitors. The aim of the exhibition was to celebrate the discovery of the New World by Columbus, and what better way than by promoting one of his most useful finds – maize? American representatives in Europe gave a ‘Maize Banquet’ in Copenhagen in which almost every dish, sweet or savoury contained maize in one form or another. The banquet raised a great deal of interest and was widely reported in the American newspapers. The aim of course was not simply to raise awareness of the exposition but also to specifically seek foreign markets for maize products (keeping the industry firmly on American soil)
Maizena Ice-Cream.
Take 2 oz of Maizena, mix it smoothly with a little cold milk; place 2 quarts of milk on the fire, when boiling, add the above; beat briskly, remove it from the fire, add 1 lb fine sugar, 4 eggs, stir well together, flavor to taste; when cold it may be frozen the same as other ices.
Recipes for the use of Duryeas’ Maizena, 1864
There is a recipe for Maizena cake in a previous blog post here.
Quotation for the Day.
Gardens, scholars say, are the first sign of commitment to a community. When people plant corn they are saying, let's stay here. And by their connection to the land, they are connected to one another.
Anne Raver.
By the mid-ninteenth century America was well and truly aware of the value of maize as a crop, and marketing of products derived from it had already begun. The usefulness of cornstarch (cornflour) for thickening gravy and sauces, and for making light cookies and cakes had been promoted for some time, and in 1864 with the American Civil War dragging on, the manufacturers of one brand of cornflour managed to promote the use of their product as a patriotic duty.
A great exhibition was held in Philadelphia in the first week of June in 1864 in aid of the Sanitary Commission. The Commission had been formed at the beginning of the war in 1861 to improve conditions in Union Army camps and provide medical and hospital care – for which of course it constantly needed funds. The fair’s ‘great, indeed sole aim … is to do good to the sick and wounded of our gallant army; and though the feeling which will prompt all who contribute is that of gratitude to our soldiers, the occasion may be used, incidentally, to bring before the public eye, the varied manufactures of our country … ’
The manufacturer of one brand of cornstarch called Maizena, had a restaurant concession at the fair, and all the items on their bill of fare were made with this product. The menu does not specify whether or not other starches were used in addition to the cornflour, but if they did not, then this would make a fine gluten-free dessert menu for today.
DURYEA’S MAIZENA
BILL OF FARE
MAIZENA ICE CREAMS
Maizena … Vanilla 15c Maizena … Pineapple 15c
Maizena … Chocolate 15c Maizena … Strawberry 15c
Maizena … Orange 15c Maizena … Lemon 15c
MAIZENA PUDDINGS
Maizena … Cup Lemon Pudding 20c Maizena … Prince Albert Pudding 25c
Maizena … “ Orange Pudding 20c Maizena … Plum 15c
MAIZENA SPONGES AND CUSTARDS.
Maizena … Strawberry Sponge 20c Maizena … Baked Custard 20c
Maizena … Lemon 20c Maizena … Boiled 20c
Maizena … Orange 20c Maizena … Floating Island 25c
Maizena … Charlotte Russe 25c Maizena … Charlotte Fruit 20c
MAIZENA BLANC-MANGE AND JELLIES
Maizena …Blanc-Mange and Syrup 20c Maizena … Wine Jelly 20c
Maizena … “ Plain 15c Maizena … Orange Jelly 20c
MAIZENA FONDANTS
Maizena … Chocolate 10c Maizena … Strawberry 10c
Maizena … Lemon 10c Maizena … Orange 10c
MAIZENA PASTRY AND CAKES
Maizena … Sponge Cake 5c Maizena … Meringues 25c
Maizena … Sultana “ 5c Maizena … Cream Tarts 25c
Maizena … Pound “ 5c Maizena … Wine Cake 15c
Maizena … Croquettes 5c Maizena … Chocolate Meringues 25
Maizena … Cream Puffs 10c Maizena … Tipsey Cake 15c
Maizena … Spanish Puffs 10c Maizena … Meringue Tarts 25c
Maizena … Omelette Comfits 15c Maizena … Pies 15c
By the end of the century the potential value of the crop as an export item was being exploited at every opportunity. During the lead-up to the great Columbian Exhibition in Chicago in 1893, there was a huge public relations campaign to encourage the participation of overseas exhibitors. The aim of the exhibition was to celebrate the discovery of the New World by Columbus, and what better way than by promoting one of his most useful finds – maize? American representatives in Europe gave a ‘Maize Banquet’ in Copenhagen in which almost every dish, sweet or savoury contained maize in one form or another. The banquet raised a great deal of interest and was widely reported in the American newspapers. The aim of course was not simply to raise awareness of the exposition but also to specifically seek foreign markets for maize products (keeping the industry firmly on American soil)
Maizena Ice-Cream.
Take 2 oz of Maizena, mix it smoothly with a little cold milk; place 2 quarts of milk on the fire, when boiling, add the above; beat briskly, remove it from the fire, add 1 lb fine sugar, 4 eggs, stir well together, flavor to taste; when cold it may be frozen the same as other ices.
Recipes for the use of Duryeas’ Maizena, 1864
There is a recipe for Maizena cake in a previous blog post here.
Quotation for the Day.
Gardens, scholars say, are the first sign of commitment to a community. When people plant corn they are saying, let's stay here. And by their connection to the land, they are connected to one another.
Anne Raver.
Friday, February 12, 2010
Recipes for Perfect Love.
I don’t know about real life, but in cookery books a number of things go by the name of Perfect Love. Well, actually they go by the even more romantic French version of the name – Parfait Amour. With Valentine’s Day imminent, I thought I would offer you some examples of this culinary Perfect Love.
I must mention firstly, a liqueur of disputed heritage called by the actual name of Parfait Amour, because it features in several dishes with the same name, as you will see below. The liqueur is pinkish-purplish in colour, and spicy-citrusy-floral in fragrance – the devil being in the details of the particular manufacturer’s formula. Not everyone is a fan of this decidedly girly-sounding drink, including the author in 1877 of Kettner’s Book of the Table (who was not, in fact, the Victorian restaurateur Auguste Kettner, although he did supply the recipes). His opinion fell somewhere betwixt underwhelmed and mildly disgusted:
“Parfait Amour unhappily is a liqueur which lives by its name and nothing else. We all like to taste that unknown bliss which is not to be found on earth, and we hope to find its semblance in the bottle. The liqueur is too true as a satire. Starting with the idea that love is a bitter-sweet, Parfait Amour is made of the bitter zest of limes, mollified with syrup, with the spirit of roses, and with spicy odours. It is in fact a kind of orange bitters spoilt. Whoever drinks of Parfait Amour says in his heart, This is a mistake. And therein lies the success of the liqueur: it has a rosy colour, it has a fine name, and it is nought. One trial is enough.”
A parfait is also an ice-cream dessert, as we all know, and what could be better than ice-cream for dessert on Valentine’s Day, especially if it is chocolate ice-cream? Interestingly, the Oxford English Dictionary’s etymological definition of parfait specifies the chocolate:
“French parfait frozen dessert made with cream and mocha (1869; subsequently also ice-cream of a single flavour, often in the form of a sugar loaf)”
My Valentine’s Day gift to you is a random selection of recipes for Parfait Amour – may much of it find its way to you on the day.
Parfait Amour.
The French, in preparing this somewhat poetically-named liqueur, use the fresh citron as a foundation; as that fruit is seldom seen by us au naturelle, though well-known in candied form, I recommend the rind of lemons when first in season, taking away only that portion which contains the essential oil.
The peel of a dozen lemons should be bruised in a mortar, the strained juice added, then mixed with an equal weight of Cognac brandy; put these into a stone bottle, cork it down well, and keep it in hot water for ten days. Reduce a quarter of an ounce of cinnamon and two ounces of coriander seed to a fine powder, mix these in a quantity of clarified syrup, equal to the brandy and lemon juice. At the expiration of the ten days, add the sugar and spice to the former. Shake the jar or bottle well, and let it stand for ten days more in hot water, then filter through blotting paper, into case or liqueur bottles.
If you desire two sorts of “Perfect Love,” red as well as white, you may convert half the latter into a roseate liqueur by adding a drachm of cochineal and an drachm of alum to the other materials.
The Epicure’s Almanac: or, diary of Good Living, by Benson Earle Hill, published in 1842.
Sorbet Parfait Amour.
Pour into a freezer one pint of raspberry water ice, one pint of orange water ice, and a pint of cherry water ice; mix thoroughly and add to them half a gill of Curaçoa, half a gill of maraschino, one gill of kirsch or one gill parfait amour cordial and half a pint of champagne just when ready to serve. Dress in tulips made of gum paste or pulled sugar.
The Epicurean, by Charles Ranhofer (Chicago, 1894)
Chocolate Parfait Amour.
Dissolve half a pound of chocolate [cacao beans ground into a paste and compressed into a cake] highly flavored with vanilla in sufficient water. In a bottle of brandy digest one ounce of bruised cinnamon, half an ounce of cloves, and a pinch of salt. In three days add the dissolved chocolate; macerate one week, closely corked ; then strain clear.
Cocoa and Chocolate: a short history of their production and use. Walter Baker and Co., 1886
Punch au Parfait Amour.
Place one quart of water on the fire with two pounds of sugar until melted, add a teaspoonful of orange flower water, strain and freeze. When nearly stiff, add the snow of eight whites of eggs, mix well, and add two pony glasses of Parfait-Amour.
Dainty Sweets … Archie Corydon Hoff (Los Angeles, 1913)
Parfait Amour (Transparent Jelly of)
Pare the rinds of two lemons and a small cedrat as thin as possible, and infuse with half a dozen cloves (bruised) in a boiling syrup made with twelve drachms of sugar; add a little cochineal to make it of a delicate rose colour. When cold, mix with the infusion half a glass of kirschenwasser, filter, and having put the ounce of isinglass to it, finish as directed (See Clear Fruit Jelly)
The Cook’s Dictionary and Housekeeper’s Directory, Richard Dolby, 1833
Parfait Amour Soufflé (Français of)
Rub upon a pound of lump sugar the zestes [sic]of two lemons, and two large cedrats, scraping off the surface as it becomes coloured; infuse this sugar in nine glasses of boiling milk, with the addition of a dozen cloves, for half an hour; strain the infusion through a napkin, mix it with the usual ingredients, and finish as directed (see Soufflé Français.)
The Cook’s Dictionary and Housekeeper’s Directory, Richard Dolby, 1833
Previous Valentine’s Day Topics.
Chocolate Soup.
An aphrodisiac tart.
Moravian love cakes.
Quotation for the Day.
A number of rare or newly experienced foods have been claimed to be aphrodisiacs. At one time this quality was even ascribed to the tomato. Reflect on that when you are next preparing the family salad.
Jane Grigson
I must mention firstly, a liqueur of disputed heritage called by the actual name of Parfait Amour, because it features in several dishes with the same name, as you will see below. The liqueur is pinkish-purplish in colour, and spicy-citrusy-floral in fragrance – the devil being in the details of the particular manufacturer’s formula. Not everyone is a fan of this decidedly girly-sounding drink, including the author in 1877 of Kettner’s Book of the Table (who was not, in fact, the Victorian restaurateur Auguste Kettner, although he did supply the recipes). His opinion fell somewhere betwixt underwhelmed and mildly disgusted:
“Parfait Amour unhappily is a liqueur which lives by its name and nothing else. We all like to taste that unknown bliss which is not to be found on earth, and we hope to find its semblance in the bottle. The liqueur is too true as a satire. Starting with the idea that love is a bitter-sweet, Parfait Amour is made of the bitter zest of limes, mollified with syrup, with the spirit of roses, and with spicy odours. It is in fact a kind of orange bitters spoilt. Whoever drinks of Parfait Amour says in his heart, This is a mistake. And therein lies the success of the liqueur: it has a rosy colour, it has a fine name, and it is nought. One trial is enough.”
A parfait is also an ice-cream dessert, as we all know, and what could be better than ice-cream for dessert on Valentine’s Day, especially if it is chocolate ice-cream? Interestingly, the Oxford English Dictionary’s etymological definition of parfait specifies the chocolate:
“French parfait frozen dessert made with cream and mocha (1869; subsequently also ice-cream of a single flavour, often in the form of a sugar loaf)”
My Valentine’s Day gift to you is a random selection of recipes for Parfait Amour – may much of it find its way to you on the day.
Parfait Amour.
The French, in preparing this somewhat poetically-named liqueur, use the fresh citron as a foundation; as that fruit is seldom seen by us au naturelle, though well-known in candied form, I recommend the rind of lemons when first in season, taking away only that portion which contains the essential oil.
The peel of a dozen lemons should be bruised in a mortar, the strained juice added, then mixed with an equal weight of Cognac brandy; put these into a stone bottle, cork it down well, and keep it in hot water for ten days. Reduce a quarter of an ounce of cinnamon and two ounces of coriander seed to a fine powder, mix these in a quantity of clarified syrup, equal to the brandy and lemon juice. At the expiration of the ten days, add the sugar and spice to the former. Shake the jar or bottle well, and let it stand for ten days more in hot water, then filter through blotting paper, into case or liqueur bottles.
If you desire two sorts of “Perfect Love,” red as well as white, you may convert half the latter into a roseate liqueur by adding a drachm of cochineal and an drachm of alum to the other materials.
The Epicure’s Almanac: or, diary of Good Living, by Benson Earle Hill, published in 1842.
Sorbet Parfait Amour.
Pour into a freezer one pint of raspberry water ice, one pint of orange water ice, and a pint of cherry water ice; mix thoroughly and add to them half a gill of Curaçoa, half a gill of maraschino, one gill of kirsch or one gill parfait amour cordial and half a pint of champagne just when ready to serve. Dress in tulips made of gum paste or pulled sugar.
The Epicurean, by Charles Ranhofer (Chicago, 1894)
Chocolate Parfait Amour.
Dissolve half a pound of chocolate [cacao beans ground into a paste and compressed into a cake] highly flavored with vanilla in sufficient water. In a bottle of brandy digest one ounce of bruised cinnamon, half an ounce of cloves, and a pinch of salt. In three days add the dissolved chocolate; macerate one week, closely corked ; then strain clear.
Cocoa and Chocolate: a short history of their production and use. Walter Baker and Co., 1886
Punch au Parfait Amour.
Place one quart of water on the fire with two pounds of sugar until melted, add a teaspoonful of orange flower water, strain and freeze. When nearly stiff, add the snow of eight whites of eggs, mix well, and add two pony glasses of Parfait-Amour.
Dainty Sweets … Archie Corydon Hoff (Los Angeles, 1913)
Parfait Amour (Transparent Jelly of)
Pare the rinds of two lemons and a small cedrat as thin as possible, and infuse with half a dozen cloves (bruised) in a boiling syrup made with twelve drachms of sugar; add a little cochineal to make it of a delicate rose colour. When cold, mix with the infusion half a glass of kirschenwasser, filter, and having put the ounce of isinglass to it, finish as directed (See Clear Fruit Jelly)
The Cook’s Dictionary and Housekeeper’s Directory, Richard Dolby, 1833
Parfait Amour Soufflé (Français of)
Rub upon a pound of lump sugar the zestes [sic]of two lemons, and two large cedrats, scraping off the surface as it becomes coloured; infuse this sugar in nine glasses of boiling milk, with the addition of a dozen cloves, for half an hour; strain the infusion through a napkin, mix it with the usual ingredients, and finish as directed (see Soufflé Français.)
The Cook’s Dictionary and Housekeeper’s Directory, Richard Dolby, 1833
Previous Valentine’s Day Topics.
Chocolate Soup.
An aphrodisiac tart.
Moravian love cakes.
Quotation for the Day.
A number of rare or newly experienced foods have been claimed to be aphrodisiacs. At one time this quality was even ascribed to the tomato. Reflect on that when you are next preparing the family salad.
Jane Grigson
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Turning on the Cool for Christmas.
It gets a little frustrating in this hot part of the world when the seasonal mags and books and blog stories start flooding the universe with their colourful, tinselly images – and we grab them eagerly – and we read them eagerly ……… and we find that many of the recipes are not for us, but for the cold part of the world.
There are many in these antipodean ex-colonies who still insist on the enormous Christmas roasts with all the trimmings and stuffings – even if they cant remember how long it is since they left “Home” – even if they were not actually born at “Home, ” but someone in the family was, way back when.
It is hot and sultry here. We will have the air-con on full blast on Christmas Day, and hope we will be allowed a dispensation for the profligate use of energy on this culinarily challenging occasion. Full-blast air-con is, after all, the only way of conserving the energy of She Who Must Cook A Big Roast Dinner When The Temperature Is In The High Thirty’s (Celsius, that is. It is HOT. ) You have heard of Extreme Sport. Doing the traditional honours, in this part of the world, to the standard that they are done in the colonial Homeland, is, my friends, Extreme Cooking.
I have my own way of dealing with the situation. In addition to the Christmas Pud (a concession I am prepared to accept, and besides, it is made by my MIL, who makes the best Christmas pud in the world), I serve my own Christmas Ice-Creams, two of them. I may even post the recipes for them if you wish.
But I digress. This is supposed to be a food history story. I was delighted – surprised, but delighted – to find this recipe for a frozen Christmas pudding, in the New York Times of December 21, 1879! Was it a warmer winter than usual, I wonder? Was it to be served in the over-heated dining rooms of posh homes and hotels? It is certainly a rare find, and it sounds delicious.
Plum Pudding Glace.
Stem and seed three fourths of a pound of raisins; simmer them, together with a few sticks of cinnamon, in a quart of new milk; beat up the yolks of four or five eggs and half a pound of white sugar; pound in a mortar one-fourth of a pound of sweet almonds; strain the milk, put it on again to boil. And add the yolks of the eggs; remove from the fire, and when cool, add the eggs; remove from the fire, and when cool add the almonds and the raisins which were boiled in the milk, but not the spice; cut some citron very fine or thin; also preserved ginger, if you have it; when well mixed add a quart of cream, and freeze; beat to a stiff froth a quart of cream; flavor with wine, whisky, or rum as preferred; sweeten, and place in spoonfuls round the pudding.
Quotation for the Day …
He who has no Christmas in his heart will never find Christmas under a tree.
Sunshine Magazine.
There are many in these antipodean ex-colonies who still insist on the enormous Christmas roasts with all the trimmings and stuffings – even if they cant remember how long it is since they left “Home” – even if they were not actually born at “Home, ” but someone in the family was, way back when.
It is hot and sultry here. We will have the air-con on full blast on Christmas Day, and hope we will be allowed a dispensation for the profligate use of energy on this culinarily challenging occasion. Full-blast air-con is, after all, the only way of conserving the energy of She Who Must Cook A Big Roast Dinner When The Temperature Is In The High Thirty’s (Celsius, that is. It is HOT. ) You have heard of Extreme Sport. Doing the traditional honours, in this part of the world, to the standard that they are done in the colonial Homeland, is, my friends, Extreme Cooking.
I have my own way of dealing with the situation. In addition to the Christmas Pud (a concession I am prepared to accept, and besides, it is made by my MIL, who makes the best Christmas pud in the world), I serve my own Christmas Ice-Creams, two of them. I may even post the recipes for them if you wish.
But I digress. This is supposed to be a food history story. I was delighted – surprised, but delighted – to find this recipe for a frozen Christmas pudding, in the New York Times of December 21, 1879! Was it a warmer winter than usual, I wonder? Was it to be served in the over-heated dining rooms of posh homes and hotels? It is certainly a rare find, and it sounds delicious.
Plum Pudding Glace.
Stem and seed three fourths of a pound of raisins; simmer them, together with a few sticks of cinnamon, in a quart of new milk; beat up the yolks of four or five eggs and half a pound of white sugar; pound in a mortar one-fourth of a pound of sweet almonds; strain the milk, put it on again to boil. And add the yolks of the eggs; remove from the fire, and when cool, add the eggs; remove from the fire, and when cool add the almonds and the raisins which were boiled in the milk, but not the spice; cut some citron very fine or thin; also preserved ginger, if you have it; when well mixed add a quart of cream, and freeze; beat to a stiff froth a quart of cream; flavor with wine, whisky, or rum as preferred; sweeten, and place in spoonfuls round the pudding.
Quotation for the Day …
He who has no Christmas in his heart will never find Christmas under a tree.
Sunshine Magazine.
Tuesday, September 09, 2008
Condensed milk to go.
Today I am going to introduce you to The Milky Way Cookbook, published in 1914 by the Nestlé company to promotes its condensed milk. This is the Australian version, I don’t know if it appears elsewhere.
It is a very little book, measuring only a little over 11 x 14 cm (4 ¼ x by 5 ½ inches) – but what a powerhouse of wisdom it is! Some of the wisdom is a little scary – like the advice on how to prepare condensed milk for babies. I am pretty sure that whatever you do to condensed milk it is never suitable for babies, but Nestlé clearly disagree. The book is no mere recipe book. It includes ‘Hints on Etiquette’, plus ‘an amusing extract from a seventeenth century work called The Ladies Dictionary’ (also etiquette advice). There is an article on ‘Frauds and Swindles: Traps for Housewives: A number of the most widely practiced frauds by which swindlers seek to victimize the female occupants of the home’ by the well known writer Mr. G. Sidney Paternoster of the Truth newspaper (when did we stop using ‘swindler’ and start using ‘con-man’?). Every single page, in addition to a recipe has one or two household remedies or pieces of advice on such things as ‘Pores, to contract’, ‘Unpermissable Jests’, ‘Husbands, Treatment of’ and ‘Parental ignorance.’
There is yet more! Every page also has at its top and bottom, some little aphorism such as ‘Pleasure that comes too thick grows Fulsome’, and ‘Better a portion in a wife than with a wife’ and ‘Do in the Hole as you would in the Hall.’
This recipe sounds quite good.
Ginger Cream Ice.
½ pint Nestlé’s Milk [prepared to a formula of four tablespoons of the milk to three quarters of a pint of water.]
1 pint water
3 tablespoonfuls Ginger Syrup
6 oz. Preserved Ginger.
¼ pint Nestlé’s (whipped) Cream
6 eggs.
Heat the condensed milk and water together, pour on to the beaten eggs, strain into a jar standing in a pan of boiling water, and stir till the custard thickens. Pound the ginger and rub through a hair sieve, then add it to the custard with the syrup. When quite cold, stir in the stiffly beaten whipped cream, and freeze.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Parmesan Cheese Ice Cream.
Today, September 11th …
I was reminded of this interesting recipe in an email conversation with lapinbizarre. It is a superb example of finding an old recipe that sounds so funky that it surely must soon be rediscovered and claimed as the new idea of a cutting-edge modern chef.
Cheese (Parmesan) Ice Cream.
Take six eggs, half a pint of syrup and a pint of cream; put them into a stewpan and boil them until it begins to thicken; then rasp three ounces of parmesan cheese; mix the whole well togetherand pass it through a sieve, then freeze it according to custom.
Now, all I need to do is find the recipe for Asparagus Ice, and we have the makings of a wonderful ice-cream parfait.
Tomorrow’s Story …
Fruit with Meat.
Quotation for the Day …
The traveler sees what he sees, the tourist sees what he has come to see. Gilbert K. Chesterton
Saturday, August 25, 2007
Salad Bizarre.
The Sunflower Salad of last week generated a little interest on account of it challenging the very notion of salad. It made me curious as to what else might pass as ‘salad’. I went first of all to the source of the recipe - The Lily Wallace New American Cook Book (1946), and have been unable to pursue the line of research any further after discovering this:
Oxford
Frozen Waldorf Salad.
2 eggs
½ cup sugar.
1/8 teaspoon salt
½ cup pineapple juice
¼ cup lemon juice
½ cup finely chopped celery
½ cup shredded pineapple
1 cup whipping cream
2 apples, chopped finely.
Beat eggs slightly. Add the sugar, salt, and fruit juices. Cook over hot water until thick. Cool. Fold in fruit and whipped cream. Pour into refrigerator tray and freeze. Cut in squares and serve on a bed of lettuce. Serves 6.
Random Thoughts on the Concept of Frozen Waldorf Salad:
I suppose it is the celery that makes it salad.
I don’t know whether or not mayonnaise would be an improvement or not.
I think this is the salad you have when you are having ice-cream.
Or is it the ice-cream you are having when you are having salad?
It would be perfect for those moments when you think that life is short, so you want to eat dessert first, but are afraid to make it even shorter by doing so, so you compromise and have salad instead.
How many times was the recipe tested before it was deemed perfect enough to go into the book, and who was on the taste testing panel?
This salad idea renders me almost speechless.
Please add your own Random Thoughts in the comments section.
I am off to
Monday, April 30, 2007
Murder in the Kitchen.
Alice B Toklas was born on this day in 1877 in San Francisco. She is best known as the partner of the writer Gertrude Stein, with whom she lived for many years in France, and as the author in 1954 of The Alice B. Toklas Cookbook. The book is a wonderful read – as much memoir as cookbook, full of reminiscences of life in France during and after the war, and liberally sprinkled with the names of the artists and writers who gathered at their home.
Alice’s cookbook has never been out of print, and the infamous recipe for Haschich Fudge has much to do with its fame. Ironically, it is said that Alice herself had no idea of its significance, and had not tested or tasted the recipe. She supposedly asked friends for help when the deadline was approaching, and the artist Brion Gysin contributed this particular recipe ‘which anyone could whip up on a rainy day’ and which ‘might provide an entertaining refreshment for a Ladies’ Bridge Club’. The reader is advised that ‘it should be eaten with care. Two pieces are quite sufficient.’
There are many memorable passages in the book. Here is a sample from the chapter entitled Murder in the Kitchen.
'The only way to learn to cook is to cook, and for me, as for so many others, is suddenly and unexpectedly became a disagreeable necesitty to have to do it when war came and Occupation followed ….. It was at this time too that murder in the kitchen began. … The first victim was a lively carp. … I carefully, deliberately found the base of its vertebral column and plunged the knife in. I let go my grasp and looked to see what had happened. Horror of horrors. The carp was dead, killed, assassinated, murdered in the first, second and third degree. Limp, I fell into a chair, with my hands still unwashed reached for a cigarette, lighted it, and waited for the police to come and take me into custody.'
At another time, in Mallorca, their French cook “tried to teach me to murder by smothering”. The cook insists that this is not only more humane, it makes the flesh fuller and tastier than the blood-letting methods. Alice does not want to be involved, but some time later, after the war and back in Paris, she receives an unexpected present one day. She is horrified when she discovers what it is:
'…. A crate of six white pigeons, and a note from a friend saying she had noting better to offer us from her home in the country, ending with But as Alice is clever she will make something delicious of them. It is certainly a mistake to allow a reputation for cleverness to be born and spread by loving friends. It is so cheaply acquired and so dearly paid for. Six white pigeons to be smothered, to be plucked, to be cleaned, and all this to be accomplished before Gertrude Stein returned, for she did not like to see work being done. … I carefully found the spot on poor innocent Dove’s throat where I was to press and pressed. The realization had never come to me before that one saw with one’s fingertips as well as one’s eyes. It was a most unpleasant experience, though as I laid out one by one the sweet young corpses there was no denying one could become accustomed to murdering.'
I searched the book to find something suitable with which to celebrate Alice’s birthday. The only recipe specific for birthdays is this one, which will do nicely:
Birthday Ice Cream for Adults.
Toast 2 slices of dark brown bread, spread lavishly with butter on both sides. Cut into small cubes. Cover with egg nog made of 2 eggs and 1 cup rum. Add 1 quart cream and freeze.
I bet you thought I was going to give you the recipe for the fudge, right?
On this Topic ...
We previously had a story about Alice and Gertrude, with recipes for Duck in Port Wine and Flaming Peaches.
Quotation for the Day …
To cook as the French do one must respect the quality and flavour of the ingredients. Exaggeration is not admissible. Flavours are not all amalgamative. These qualities are not purchasable but may be cultivated. The haute cuisine has arrived at the enviable state of reacting instinctively to these known principles. Alice B Toklas.
Friday, November 18, 2005
Heroes in the Kitchen.
Today, November 18th …
You may not be at all interested in what gets eaten at the White House. You may consider anything smacking of political paparazzi-ism (is that a word?) beneath you. You may, alternatively, be gloriously inspired to re-create this meal when you realise that it was eaten by Tricky Dicky himself on this day in 1970. If not, stay with me anyway, for there is still much of interest in this menu.
Vol au vent Américaine
Supreme of Pheasant Smitane
Wild Rice
Timbale of Spinach
Carrots au Beurre
Baked Alaska
If America’s first family choose to have their menus in French, why would they not be consistent? Why not “riz sauvage” (or would it be “riz fou”?) and why not Bombe Alaska?
The “history” of Baked Alaska is disputed, and more fakelore than history, but what is certain is that it was a brave chef who first sent it to the table. Covering a slab of cake and ice-cream with meringue and baking it till set and golden is not an activity for the faint-hearted. Particularly if it is for a president.
So how about the opposite concept? Ice-cream on the outside, meringue inside, and right in the centre some hot brandied marmalade. It was the invention of Nicholas Kurti, a physics professor at Oxford who specialised in ultra-low temperature physics, thereby qualifying him as an expert ice-cream cook. It works because: microwave frequencies are absorbed strongly in alcohol but not well in ice, and microwave ovens heat from the inside out. Voila! “Inverted Baked Alaska”!
The earliest published recipe for ice-cream is in 1718, but would exceed my word limit, so I will give you one from Hannah Glasse (1747).
" Take two pewter basons, one larger than the other; the inward one must have a close cover, into which you are to put your cream, and mix it with raspberries, or whatver you like best, to give it a flavour and a colour. Sweeten it to you palate; then cover it close, and set it into the larger bason. Fill it with ice, and a handful of salt: let it stand in this ice three quarters of an hour, then uncover it, and stir the cream well together: cover it close again, and let is stand half an hour longer, after that turn it into your plate. These things are made at the pewterers."
How brave are you?
Tomorrow … Heroes in the Kitchen.
You may not be at all interested in what gets eaten at the White House. You may consider anything smacking of political paparazzi-ism (is that a word?) beneath you. You may, alternatively, be gloriously inspired to re-create this meal when you realise that it was eaten by Tricky Dicky himself on this day in 1970. If not, stay with me anyway, for there is still much of interest in this menu.
Vol au vent Américaine
Supreme of Pheasant Smitane
Wild Rice
Timbale of Spinach
Carrots au Beurre
Baked Alaska
If America’s first family choose to have their menus in French, why would they not be consistent? Why not “riz sauvage” (or would it be “riz fou”?) and why not Bombe Alaska?
The “history” of Baked Alaska is disputed, and more fakelore than history, but what is certain is that it was a brave chef who first sent it to the table. Covering a slab of cake and ice-cream with meringue and baking it till set and golden is not an activity for the faint-hearted. Particularly if it is for a president.
So how about the opposite concept? Ice-cream on the outside, meringue inside, and right in the centre some hot brandied marmalade. It was the invention of Nicholas Kurti, a physics professor at Oxford who specialised in ultra-low temperature physics, thereby qualifying him as an expert ice-cream cook. It works because: microwave frequencies are absorbed strongly in alcohol but not well in ice, and microwave ovens heat from the inside out. Voila! “Inverted Baked Alaska”!
The earliest published recipe for ice-cream is in 1718, but would exceed my word limit, so I will give you one from Hannah Glasse (1747).
" Take two pewter basons, one larger than the other; the inward one must have a close cover, into which you are to put your cream, and mix it with raspberries, or whatver you like best, to give it a flavour and a colour. Sweeten it to you palate; then cover it close, and set it into the larger bason. Fill it with ice, and a handful of salt: let it stand in this ice three quarters of an hour, then uncover it, and stir the cream well together: cover it close again, and let is stand half an hour longer, after that turn it into your plate. These things are made at the pewterers."
How brave are you?
Tomorrow … Heroes in the Kitchen.
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