Dennis Sever’s House, London and Victorian Apple Fritters with Caramel Ice Cream

Living Room of the Dennis Sever’s House, London, James Brittain photo

The Presidential election is still weeks away and I am drowning in political posturing and unpleasantness.  Honestly, I am sick to death of the tenor of the discourse and wish the candidates, their campaigns and the media would act with some grace and dignity so it wouldn’t feel like I’m watching a feeding frenzy in the piranha pool 24/7. 

When I get sick to death of the world, my imagination looks for an escape and mine came as if by magic when I found a handwritten yellow post-it that a lovely British producer had given me a few months ago.  It had 3 words ––  “Dennis Sever’s House”.  As she wrote she asked if I knew of it and said it was right up my alley –– it certainly was. This was the second time Sever’s House had knocked at my door and the time was right for sharing it with you.  Dennis Sever’s House  is a cure for the gashlycrumb times if ever there was one.

Dennis Severs was born in California, but as a child he had a vision; "Down deep I always believed that one day I would travel past picture frames and into the marinated glow of a warmer, more mellow and more romantic light. There was one such light in particular, one that I saw in the combination of old varnish and paint, and that appealed to me as my ideal. By the age of 11, it was identified as English."

Photos from the Gentle Author of Spitalfields Life 1977

Severs moved to England in 1967 after he graduated from High School and began his immersion into the Victorian lifestyle by buying himself a landau and a much loved horse named Meklenburgh to drive lucky folks around London.  This lasted until his stable was bought out to make way for new construction.  Undaunted he bought the house on Folgate Street in Spitalfields  and never looked back.

A wonderful 1999 obituary in the Guardian quoted Severs saying he didn’t just want to renovate the Spitalfields house but wanted “to bring it to life as my home. With a candle, a chamber pot and a bedroll, I began sleeping in each of the house's 10 rooms so that I might arouse my intuition in the quest for each room's soul.

"Then, having neared it, I worked inside out from there to create what turned out to be a collection of atmospheres: moods that harbour the light and the spirit of various ages in Time."

I knew I’d found a kindred spirit in Mr. Severs when I read in the Guardian article that Severs  “… felt able to summon up past eras not through history books, but through empathy with objects and places, to tell a fictional, true story "aimed at those who want to make sense of the whole picture of being alive".

Photos from James Brittain

The result?  A historian said a walk through the door began  "a magical mystery tour which dazzles the visitor with a succession of scenes more crowded with memorable incident than the mere facsimile of what passes in the museums as a period room". Painter David Hockney described the house as one of the world's greatest works of opera.

The motto of the house is Aut Visum Aut Non (You either see it or you don't).

Photo from Visual Vamp

18 Folgate Street was a decayed 1724 terrace house when Severs found it in a rather notorious part of East London known for Jack the Ripper and Sweeney Todd.  Spitalfields (short for hospital fields) had a short renaissance in the 18^th century with an influx of the silk trade to the neighborhood – this where all these great houses were built (the area had had its ups and downs for hundreds of years, Christopher Marlowe had lived there in the 16^th century).  When the silk trade waned, the neighborhood became notorious for filth, poverty, debauchery and crime.  Part of Spitalfields was leveled after the Jack the Ripper affair in an attempt to clean the suppurating wound it had become.  It really didn’t help. The plague of poverty continued till recently when again a renaissance has taken over the neighborhood.

Slowly but surely and with enormous creativity and passion, Severs built up the rooms of his house.

Photos from The Gentle Author of Spitalfield's Life

I had forgotten that I had seen bits of the house before in an amazing blog called Spitalfield’s Life  that wrote about and showed the tile work in the house that had been done by the late Simon Pettets.  The tiles looked ancient but were newly made and full of whimsy since they captured the local personalities of the neighborhood, often anachronistically.  When I read this blog I sent links to a million friends because I thought it was so wonderful –– friends sent it out to other friends and I actually got notes from people I didn’t know to thank me for sharing it!  That’s the magic of Dennis Severs house.  I discovered the tiles are only a part of the story when I went to their website and read articles about the place.  

This is the same passion for the drama of place that gave us the screamingly innovative Sleep No More version of Macbeth –– an interactive play performed in a decoratively nuanced, multi-roomed space in which the audience walks through the rooms to take part in the scenes instead of sitting in a seat –– it was a huge hit because the audience became one with the story.  Dennis Severs House draws you in in much the same way.  I think we all want to step through the looking glass every once in a while.

To share his delight in his home with others Severs opened his treasure to the public and even invented a family to occupy it to make people feel the experience more profoundly as they related to the “inhabitants’ within their home.  Although never seen, the Jervis family of silk merchants seem as if they just left the room one enters, their perfume lingers in the air and the food on the table is still warm and fragrant.  Tasks have just been finished or are in the midst of being accomplished.

The house charts the trajectory of the inhabitants from the well-polished and provisioned golden days of the 18th century to the grim lives of poor attic tenants in the mid-19th century ––  complete with dust, ragged clothes, broken crockery, holes in the ceiling and a note explaining the family has gone to William IV’s 1837 funeral accompanied by the faint sound of church bells ringing (there is a delicate soundtrack to the house –– silent viewing is encouraged that you may hear it).  There is a fire in the kitchen and food and flowers on the table, there are scents and sounds in the house. Windows are closed to the outside world and candles and fireplaces provide light so the magic of being transported to the past is preserved.

Photo from Retropolitain

GoLondon explained,  “It is difficult to describe but you do feel you are in a different time inside the House. There are ten rooms to explore and each looks like a real home, with full domestic trappings. You need to be willing to meet it halfway as a visit here is about using all of your senses and discovering for yourself. No one tells you which room you are in but you need to look around and work out who lives there. It's dark inside - remember it is only lit by candlelight - but there are plenty of clues to help you find out more about the family.”

Photos from James Brittain

Since the house uses food to help tell the story of the Jervis family, I thought I would offer a recently discovered dish that might have been served there. 

When I wrote about Edith Wharton, I enjoyed reading her mother’s favorite Francatelli cookbook and found some gorgeous recipes.  Francatelli learned to cook with no less than Carême in France, was Queen Victoria’s chef, cooked at the legendary Reform Club kitchen and wrote some fine cookbooks (I’ll write more about him soon). 

A recipe caught my eye because it was so unusual and sounded amazing.  It was a fritter batter with ale and orange liqueur coating apples marinated in cognac and orange rind and it sounded divine and perfect for apple dunking.  I served it with my new favorite ice cream recipe (that I have made many, many times since I first shared it with you as a layer of an ice cream bombe HERE–– I am crazy about this ice cream) but they would be great with cheese or even as a side to a pork roast. The fritters are  boozy, wonderfully so.  You will love snacking on them.  Although best hot, they are good at room temperature.  I couldn’t help but rename them tipsy fritters because when they are fresh they pack quite an alcoholic punch.

Tipsy Apple Fritters

1 large crisp apple (like Granny Smith), sliced, cored and peeled ( I had about 16 pieces)

2 oz brandy

2 T sugar

rind of 1 orange, grated

Batter

1 c flour, sifted

2 1/2 to 3 T curacao or grand marnier or triple sec (to your taste)

pinch of salt

1 oz melted butter

1/3 c bitter ale

1 egg white, beaten till stiff

oil or lard for deep frying.

Powder sugar or sanding sugar for dusting

Take the sliced apples and marinate them for a few hours in the brandy, sugar and orange rind, stirring occasionally.

Combine the flour, grand marnier, salt, butter and ale.  Stir well to combine.   Fold the egg white into the batter.

Dry the apple slices* and then dunk the apple pieces into the batter one by one and put into the oil (2 forks seem to work best for this –– drip off as much batter as possible while keeping them covered, this takes a few practice pieces but then it goes fairly easily).  Fry till crisp and golden and put on paper towels.  Sprinkle with sugar and serve with caramel ice cream.

PS I made my first batch with more Grand Marnier and in lard and the second batch with less liqueur and in oil... both were great.  The lard version was gutsier.



*If you don't dry the apples they are boozier and make wild creatures since the batter slips and slides on them

Caramel Benedictine Ice Cream  (with a little help from Epicurious)

1 ¼ c sugar

2 ¼ c heavy cream

½ to 1 t flaky sea salt

½ t vanilla

1 c whole milk

3 large eggs.

1-2 T Benedictine

Heat 1 c sugar in skillet, stirring till it melts.  Then stop and let it turn to dark amber… do not overcook, it turns quickly.  If you are using a cast iron skillet it will retain heat.  Add  1 ¼ c cream slowly, stirring.  Add the salt and vanilla.

Bring milk, the rest of the cream and ¼ cup sugar just to a boil. Whisk eggs and pour the hot milk in a stream.  Pour back into a saucepan and heat to 170º over low heat.  Strain.  Add to cooled caramel and Benedictine and chill 3 hours. Put in an ice cream maker… it will still be a soft ice cream.

This time I cooked the caramel a bit less than usual.  I liked the darker one better... slightly bitter, but that is up to you.