Jane Austen Drank Ratafia

I would put rosewater in toothpaste if I could. So when 4poundsflour posted a video with Nach Waxman (legendary owner of Kitchen Arts & Letters) entreating cooks not to follow recipes doggedly but to follow their own creative instincts instead, I cracked open the Quince Ratafia that had been resting contentedly for a few weeks and added some rosewater. I felt validated and empowered and not so guilty!

You see, full disclosure, I had already changed the recipe. When I started to make it, I had every intention of following the recipe precisely, but with quinces at $3 a pound I really couldn’t see spending 40$ juicing them (they are not juicy at all). Juicing would be swell if I had my own quince orchard, but like many of you out there, I DO NOT! Since they taste lousy uncooked (although they smell like heaven when ripening in a bowl) and turn rosy with pleasure when you cook them, I threw caution to the wind and chopped them, spiced them, cooked them and laid them to rest with a pint. of Vodka. Honestly, it’s a great project for a rainy afternoon. Cooking the quinces takes time, but the rest is simple as could be!

Juan Sánchez Cotán, Still Life with Quince, Cabbage, Melon, and Cucumber, 1600

My Ratafia still needs some time to come to it’s full measure but now it’s on its way! The addition of the rosewater gave it that je ne sais quoi that it was missing. This stuff is potent, and smells like heaven… I am already envisioning a punch or a cocktail. It may not be exactly what Miss Bennett knocked back at Pemberely, but honestly, after a few glasses of this, Homer Simpson would look like Mr. Darcy.

Ratafia of Quinces (France 1692, Massialot)

"Take such a quantity of the finest quinces that you can find, crush them, and put the pulp in a strong sieve; press them together to extract the most juice than you can; this juice being well settled, you will add as many pints of eau-de-vie as you have quarts of juice, a handful of sugar to each quart. cinnamon, clove of mace and coriander in proportion to each other. having infused everything for some time, pass it through a straining bag and put it in a bottle."

3 large quinces, peeled, cored and chopped (you can use pears if you can't find Quinces).

1/2 c sugar

1 t each of cinnamon,mace and coriander

1/4 t clove

1 pint vodka

2 t. rosewater(or a few drops of Rose Absolute)

Put the quinces in a sauce pan with the spices and sugar and 1 cup of water. Simmer them slowly till they soften and turn pink...about 1/2 an hour but this varies so check them.

Put the quinces and the accumulated juices in a jar with the vodka and rosewater, making sure the vodka covers the fruit and put the lid on the jar for a month. If you want to hurry it along, puree some of the quince before adding it to the vodka and stir regularly . Open, and strain first through a sieve (pressing gently on the solids) if you have not pureed. If you have, let the puree settle for a few days before decanting and try to leave as much of the solids as you can in the bottom of the jar. Straining will be slow going. Finish using a coffee filter, decant into a bottle and enjoy!

For the record, the name Ratafia is given to many things. It is a liqueur or cordial flavored with peach or cherry kernels, bitter almonds, or other fruits, a flavoring essence resembling bitter almonds, and also to a light biscuit (big in Jane Austen novels). It is also a cordial made from a mix of marc brandy and the unfermented juice of the grape.

FYI: peach and cherry kernels contain high levels of hydrogen cyanide as do bitter almonds. Making this version would give you toxic liqueur so be warned! Unless you are going postal with the "revenge-is-mine" punch bowl... stay away from this version as a party drink!~

For those of you who like pushing the envelope, I include a recipe from the Household Cyclopedia of General Information published in 1881 that would fall under that dangerous heading (but it would be tough to do properly without Ambergris)!

Common Ratafia

Take of nutmegs, 8 oz., bitter almonds, 10 lbs., Lisbon sugar (muscovado), 8 lbs., ambergris,10 grams. Infuse these ingredients three days in 10 gallons of proof spirit and filter it through a flannel bag for use. The nutmegs and bitter almonds must be bruised and the ambergris rubbed with the Lisbon sugar in a marble mortar, before they are infused in the spirit.

Pete Wells in the NYT says: “A good ratafia exploits the seasons and transcends them. It captures the taste of produce when it’s in high supply so you can still enjoy it when it’s gone.” It seems this is the season for quince ratafia! TheKitchn used a Jane Grigson recipe that called for grating to make a batch and the nice lady at 18thcCuisine has a French version that sounded divine. My inspiration came from the great cookbook, Ivan Day’s Cooking in Europe, 1650-1850 and his extraordinarily erudite website which I mentioned in my Hippocras post

Then there is Catalan ratafia, a green walnut-based version. An article in Metropolitan Barcelona explained: “Traditionally, the herbs are gathered on the eve of the midsummer festival of Saint Joan when they are said to be imbued with magical qualities. Each family has its own recipe—a closely-guarded secret that is passed down through the generations—and their own way of preparing the liqueur. For this reason it is said there are as many different types of ratafia as there are people who make it.

One recipe uses 65 herbs and flowers like the aromatic herbs rosemary, thyme, sage and oregano, as well as flowers with exotic-sounding names such as horse’s tail and lion’s tooth, various types of ferns, stinging nettles and pine cones. Extra ingredients such as coffee beans, lemon and orange peel, cinnamon sticks, freshly ground nutmeg and anise will also be needed as well as the liquorice-flavoured liqueur anisette, in which all the plants are left to soak.

The most important ingredient for Catalan ratafia, though, is unripe walnuts. The tender green nuts, picked before their shells have hardened, form the base of the liqueur. They are steeped in alcohol along with the rest of the herbs and spices for a minimum of 40 days, a sol i serena (in the sun and night air) before being filtered straight into bottles or decanted into wooden containers for a further three months of ageing.

This can be purchased easily in Europe for 50 Euros or so… but as far as I can tell, it isn’t available here in the US.

Gemma from LaCuinacasa uses this nut-based ratafia for her Catalan “flam” but I’m thinking that any ratafia would be great this way! I wanted to share this with you because her photo looked sooo good! I apologize in advance if my interpretation of the Google translation is off!

Flam de Ratafia

500 ml milk

5 eggs

80-100 g. sugar

200 ml ratafia

50 g of sugar in the bottom of mold

Simmer the ratafia in a saucepan until reduced by half.

Meanwhile, two tablespoons sugar, make a caramel (must be a little dark) and place it at the bottom of a plum cake type mold.

In the same pan, put half the milk with sugar and let it heat until the sugar is melted

In a bowl, add eggs and add the remaining cold milk, and then the ratafia and hot milk with the dissolved sugar. Mix it together. Stir, strain it and pour the mold where you put the caramel. Put it in a silver bain marie in the oven 45 minutes at 200 C. When cool you can unmoldand serve it.

Ode to Pedro Ximenez Sherry ...

Now, you may ask how I’m going to leap from a perfume that dates from 16^th c. Spain to Pedro Ximenes Sherry Ice Cream with Prunes with any kind of sense, let alone grace? . Easy. SCENT. Scent is the connection and the inspiration.

Inspiration. I read this during the summer via 18th c. Cuisine. A perfume poet known by ‘cncrocket’ said of Peau d’Espagne cologne:

"This fragrance lingers on everything it touches like a rugged kiss from a cowboy soaked in campfire smoke and saddle leather sweat. It smells like the sexiest man you've ever seen in your life, taking a hot outdoor bath in a tin tub, smeared with sweet shaving lather and dust, steaming on a cold high-desert morning."

British sexologist Havelock Ellis esteemed peau d'espagne as "a highly complex and luxurious perfume, often the favorite scent of sensuous persons" and noted that "it is said by some, probably with a certain degree of truth, that Peau d'Espagne is of all perfumes that which most nearly approaches the odor of a woman's skin..."

Needless to say, I ran to LAFCO in NYC to buy myself a bottle immediately. I mean really, how could I resist (even though this stuff is pricey)?

It is everything they say and not like anything you’ve ever worn, scent-wise. People lean over and ask what you have on… it’s that kind of smell. No one will ever think you bought this at Macy’s perfume counter! It is not for the faint of heart or a rabid devotee of sweet floral-scents. The nice folks at SMN in Florence have been whipping it up for 100 years or so… but then they have been doing everything for centuries in one of the most remarkable stores you will ever visit… it’s the world’s oldest pharmacy!

The origin of the Antica Farmacia goes back to the Dominican friars who in 1221 settled in Florence, but it was officially founded in 1612 . Many of the Officina’s essences and perfumes are still prepared to a large extent following the formulas studied in 1500 for Caterina de’ Medici. The store was originally a church abounding in frescoes that was donated by the Acciaioli family to the friars in 1335 in recognition of their services. This same company makes a potpourri that has scented my home for many years. The first time I smelled it I saw Medici palaces when I closed my eyes. Nothing smells like it. And they have been making it for 800 years! It comes in jars like these: But I digress ( I really did have to share about SMN, the store is that amazing).... all this is a preface to a recipe (it really is connected!) via the musings of a devout sensualist. I mean, think about it. How is the cook, who measures herbs and spices to achieve taste and aroma, that different from a perfumer who adjusts notes and tones to make a fragrance (take care you don’t go too far and end up possessed by scent like Des Esseintes in Huysmans' Against the Grain (À Rebours))? You see, it's all related. There are tones in perfume, incense and liquor that have a positive, primal effect on me. I love the dusky smells of SMN’s Peau d’Espagne as I love Lagavulin (the secret ingredient of my pot pie). You see, I am crazy for the scent of wood smoke so I’m over the moon for the peaty smokiness of Lagavulin (Johnny Depp, who doesn’t drink, sometimes pours a shot just to inhale in the heady aroma). I get dizzy with pleasure breathing in the scent of libraries full of old leather books so it would make sense that I would swoon over old vintage port I love the scent and patina of 18th c. furniture so I find the charm of a 19th c Madiera utterly irresistible. You can absorb history with every glass… the age of the stuff drifts through you like music played on a Stradivarius. And that gets me to Pedro Ximenez Sherry (bet you thought we’d never get here). I fell head-over-heels with the stuff thanks to Tertulia de Sabores post on Prunes with the sherry and Earl Gray tea. Double swoon. A wine review gushes: “The impressive 1927 Pedro Ximenez Solera, from a Solera begun nearly 80 years ago, boasts a dark amber color as well as an extraordinary nose of creme brulee, liquefied nuts, marmalade, and maple syrup. Huge and viscous, yet neither cloyingly sweet nor heavy,” it has a “ wonderful, caramelized texture, {that} evolves into a mature tobacco leaf and cigar box palate, still revealing hints of burnt sugar and tea leaf, with incredible length and purity on the silky finish.” You get the idea, (how do they write like that?). So, in homage to the beloved scents of our lives... to things that make you flush with pleasure... to small, private smiles, I give you: Pedro Ximenez Ice Cream with Prunes. 4 oz prunes 1/3 c P.X. Sherry (you could use cream sherry but the difference would be astronomically huge and just wrong—spend the $20 to get the real deal or wait to make it until you can). Pinch of 5 spice (or, if you are feeling like an adventurous alchemist, try homemade Garam Masala with rose petals—I’ll give you the recipe if you ask) 1 Earl Gray tea bag (in 1 c of boiling water, let steep 2-3 minutes and remove. Add the prunes and cook 20 minutes on a low flame until prunes are softened. Remove with remaining liquid(only a few tablespoons should be left), add sherry and let this macerate overnight or at least 5 hours. Take 1/3c sugar and caramelize with 2T water. 1 c cream, warmed. Add to caramel slowly and dissolve any clumps you may have over a low flame. I use Milk Thistle Farm cream...it's amazing. 5 egg yolks, beaten to lemon yellow Slowly add warm caramel cream to eggs, return to pan and stir till thickened over a low heat (not above 160º). Then add 1 c milk and a pinch of salt. Puree ½ of the prunes and sherry and add to the mix. Refrigerate the mixture overnight. Blend in an ice cream maker. When it is almost done, add the rest of the prunes, finely chopped with the accumulated juices and finish blending. Freeze to finish. Best eaten softly frozen… and with chocolate! Cookies, flourless chocolate cake, whatever appeals… and more sherry, either in a glass or poured over the ice cream. Or, you could make the best chocolate sauce ever: 1/2 c sugar 1 c heavy cream(warmed) 7 oz bittersweet chocolate, chopped 1/2 t vanilla 1 T cognac Melt the sugar till it turns dark amber, add heavy cream slowly taking care to melt any caramel that seizes up. Remove from stove and add chopped chocolate. Stir till smooth and add cognac and vanilla.

Pedro Ximenez

Melon en Nougat via Tiffanys

If you want to know why they called it “The Gilded Age”, take a gander at this 41-piece place setting from Tiffany’s from the 1870’s. Forty-one pieces, each having a specific purpose from orange and sherbet spoons to turtle and bon-bon forks (the golden vermeil pieces were for acid foods that might discolor silver). Sterling protection against the abhorrent possibility that human fingers might touch food at table (bread was the only exception) and offend the sensibilities of the fine guests!

Tiffany Vine Pattern, Roslyn Berlin Fine Silver

In The New England Antiques Journal, Duncan A McKee wrote: “The number of articles that appeared on a properly set Victorian dinner table seems truly intimidating today. For the dinner hostess of the period, each piece of silver, china and stemware had its chosen place. In many cases, it was not unusual for as many as 24 pieces of silver to be at each place setting. As many as eight forks might be laid out, ranging from a fish fork and dinner fork to an ice cream fork. Knives could add up to eight more pieces for butter, cheese, game, roast, and fruit, all accompanied by individual knife rests. 
All the stemware that would be needed through the meal was placed on the table beforehand, arranged in two rows: a water glass, a glass for chambertin, a glass for latour, champagne, a green glass for sauterne, a sherry glass, and a red glass for Rhine wine. An unbuttered slice of bread rested on a napkin to the left of the plate with an individual salt close by. In the center of the table stood a sophisticated centerpiece.”

When reading up on Tiffany silver I found a surprising intersection of my interests in the giant character of J.W. Mackay. When I researched an article on food at the NY Players Club a few years ago (I’ve shared some of this with you on a few other posts and it was the genesis of this blog), the name came up in a great anecdote from club history.

J.W. Mackay

John William Mackay made his fortune with the Comstock Lode silver strike in 1873 near Virginia City, Nevada (partnered with William Randolph Hearst’s father, George) and became wealthier still after the mine dried up with his Commercial Cable Company. His Players’ Club friends (he had lived in NYC as a young man) decided against an opulent spread when they honored him at a dinner in 1893. Instead, they instructed the kitchen to produce a miner’s menu of a hearty soup, raw oysters and corned beef and cabbage -- much to the delight of Mr. Mackay. This simple meal brought back memories of his adventurous youth in the wild west of Virginia City as only food can do. Mark Twain arrived around midnight to join his old friend from his Roughing It days days and they swapped tall-tales till dawn while enjoying the humble but hugely evocative repast.

The truth is, Mr. Mackay did have opulent tastes and stands like a colossus in the world of silver for more than one reason.

Mr. Mackay, was called the “Silver King” or the “Bonanza King”. According to legend, when his wife, Marie Louise Hungerford Mackay, visited the mine, she decided to have a half a ton of silver shipped to Tiffany's with instructions to make an elaborate dinner service. “There, reportedly, two hundred craftsmen worked exclusively on the service for two years; a total of over one million man hours. When complete, Mr. Mackay purchased the dies so that the service could never be duplicated. The service was delivered to the Mackays in Paris” (where they had moved when NY society snubbed the shanty Irish parvenus), “accompanied by a silver clasped leather bound album of photographs and fitted in nine walnut and mahogany chests, each mounted with a silver plaque detailing its contents.”

Tiffany's silver exhibit at the 1878 Exposition Universelle (that saw Bell's telephone, Edison's phonograph, electric arc lights as well as beginnings of the Statue of Liberty and the Eiffel Tower) in Paris included the spectacular Mackay dinner-and-dessert service for 24, one of the most elaborate silver table services ever produced, consisting of 1,223 pieces of which 305 were holloware items. Edward C. Moore of Tiffanys designed the pattern of flower-encrusted Persian and Indian motifs, with thistles, shamrocks, and American flowers. Nearly 100 years later, in 1990, the famous punch bowl from the set sold at Christies for $225,000. It had elephant trunks and tusks making up the feet and a Chinese dragon etched on the interior.

Many pieces are housed at the Keck Museum at the University of Nevada (Mackay endowed the Mackey School of Mines there). Much of the story of the Mackay silver and the photographs came from their website.

Mackay Melon Knives by Tiffany

Melon en Nougat, Inspired by Queen Victoria’s Chef Francatelli

4 egg whites

pinch cream of tartar

½ c + 4T sugar

3 T port (it is really best to use a little of the good vintage port, the flavor is much richer)

2 c heavy cream, whipped( I use Milk Thistle Farm cream, the best ever!)

small Charentais melon or cantaloupe

2 pinches of black pepper & allspice

Mint for garnish

2 T ground almonds + 2 T toasted almonds for garnish

Take 4 T sugar and heat to caramel, remove from heat and slowly add warmed port and pepper. If caramel seizes, gently reheat to liquify(this is great stuff, you may want to double the recipe!). Toss 1/2 of the melon cubed in the syrup and allow to mellow.

Take 1/2c sugar and 2 T water and cook 4 minutes or till 238º.

Beat the egg whites with 1 tsp sugar. Mix in hot syrup. Fold in drained melon, add cream and powdered almonds and refrigerate.

Cook rest of melon, sliced thinly and decoratively, with a pinch of pepper and allspice for a few moments over a low heat.

Combine port syrup and cooked fruit. Spoon the nougat on a plate and surround with fruit and syrup, garnish with mint and toasted almonds if you like. You can also freeze this lightly for an unusual ice cream!

Serves 6

The nougat is an old-fashioned treat, encasing velvety melon in this incarnation. Imagine using those melon knives to slice the melon with stately, silver grace, But remember, as Eliza Leslie advised in 1864, avoid “all discussions of sicknesses, sores, surgical operations, dreadful accidents, shocking cruelties or horrible controversies” while dining… then as now, excellent advice.

Mackay’s 36” high candelabra, one of a pair with 29 candles by Tiffany

Mackay’s Silver Tureen by Tiffany

Honestly, wouldn’t any meal be extraordinary with this fabulous silver service? As long as you didn’t have to polish it!