Omelette and a Glass of Wine (37 page)

In the beginning then, in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, there were three kinds of syllabub. There was the syllabub mixed in a punch bowl on a basis of cider or ale and sometimes both, sweetened with sugar and spiced with cinnamon or nutmeg. Into the bowl the milkmaid milked the cow so that the new warm milk fell in a foam and froth on to the cider. The contents of the bowl were left undisturbed for an hour or two, by which time a kind of honeycombed curd had formed on the top, leaving alcoholic whey underneath. Sometimes, on top of the milk curd, a layer of thick fresh cream was poured. This syllabub was more a drink than a whip, a diversion for country parties and rustic festivals.

Co-existing with the syllabub of pastoral England was one made with wine and spirits instead of cider and ale, and with cream instead of milk. This mixture was a more solid one. It was about four-fifths sweetened whipped cream, to be spooned rather than drunk out of the glasses in which it was served, and one-fifth of wine and whey which had separated from the whip, and which you drank when you reached the end of the cream. Then, at some stage, it was discovered that by reducing the proportions of wine and sugar to cream, the whip would remain thick and light without separating.
This version was called a solid or everlasting syllabub. One eighteenth-century author, E. Smith, whose
Complete Housewife
, published in 1727, was also the first cookery book to be printed in America, claimed that her Everlasting Syllabubs would remain in perfect condition for nine or ten days, although at their best after three or four.

Not all syllabubs were necessarily made with wine. Sir Kenelm Digby, whose book of recipes collected from his contemporaries and friends has provided posterity with a graphic record of Stuart cookery, notes that he himself made a fine syllabub with syrup left over from the home-drying of plums; being ‘very quick of the fruit and very weak of sugar’ this syrup ‘makes the Syllabub exceeding well tasted’ says Sir Kenelm. He adds that cherry syrup may be used in like manner. In the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, syllabubs were sometimes made with the juice of Seville oranges, and in these days we can devise cream and wine or cream and fruit-syrup syllabubs to suit ourselves.

Before venturing on new formulas, however, it is as well to have an idea of what the old recipes were like and to know in what quantities, approximately, the ingredients were portioned out. From the following cross-section of recipes, chosen from cookery books written by professional and practising cooks and from household receipt books of the seventeenth, eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, emerges a fairly clear picture of the ways in which the cooks of the Stuart, the Georgian and the Victorian eras made and served their syllabubs. Historical and documentary interest apart, some of the old recipes are remarkable for the beauty and the clarity of the English in which they are written.

The Seventeenth Century

AN EXCELLENT SYLLABUB

‘Fill your Sillabub pot half full with sider, and good store of sugar, and a little nutmeg, stir it well together, and put in as much cream by two or three spoonfuls at a time, as hard as you can, as though you milk it in; then stir it together very softly once about, and let it stand two hours before you eat it, for the standing makes it curd.’

Robert May,
The Accomplisht Cook
, 1660

The author of this celebrated Stuart cookery book was a professional cook whose father, also a professional, apprenticed him to
Arthur Hollingsworth, cook and caterer to one of the City Guilds during the last years of the sixteenth century. Since May was seventy-two when his book was published, it is clear that many of his recipes must date back to the days of Queen Elizabeth 1st.

A SYLLABUB

‘My Lady Middlesex makes Syllabubs for little glasses with spouts, thus. Take three pints of Sweet Cream, one of quick white wine (or Rhenish)
¹
and a good wine glassful (better the ¼ of a pint) of Sack:
²
mingle with them about three quarters of a pound of fine Sugar in Powder. Beat all these together with a whisk, till all appeareth converted into froth, and let them stand all night. The next day the Curd will be thick and firm above, and the drink clear under it. I conceive it may do well, to put into each glass (when you pour the liquor into it) a sprig of Rosemary a little bruised, or a little Limon-peel, or some such thing to quicken the taste; or use Amber-sugar, or spirit of Cinnamon, or of Lignum-Cassie,
³
or Nutmegs, or Mace, or Cloves, a very little.’

The Closet of the Eminently Learned Sir Kenelme Digby Kt. Opened
, Published by his Son’s Consent, 1669

Sir Kenelm Digby, philosopher-scientist, soldier-diplomat, ardent royalist, lifelong friend and confidant of Charles the First’s widow, Queen Henrietta Maria, was born in 1603 and died in 1664. His recipes, some his own and many collected from his friends and contemporaries, were put together in the form of a private notebook rather than for publication. They provide us with a first-hand and unique record of cooking as it was understood and practised in the kitchens and still-rooms of aristocratic houses of the first half of the seventeenth century.

The Eighteenth Century

TO MAKE WHIPT SYLLABUBS

‘Take a quart of Creme and a pint of rhenish wine and the juice of 4 lemons sweeten it to your taste and put in some leamon peele then whip it up with a small rod and put it with a spoone into syllabub glasses.’

The MS. receipt book of Judith Frampton of Morton House, nr Dorchester, Dorset. 1708. Quoted in
Dorset Dishes of the 18th Century
, edited by J. Stevens Cox, published by the Dorset Natural History and Archaeological Society, Dorchester, 1961

TO MAKE LEMON SYLLABUB

‘To a pint of cream put a pound of double-refined sugar, the juice of seven lemons, grate the rinds of two lemons into a pint of white wine, add half a pint of sack, then put them all into a deep pot, and whisk them for half an hour, put it into glasses the night before you want it: it is better for standing two or three days, but it will keep a week if required.’

Elizabeth Raffald,
The Experienced English Housekeeper, 1769

Elizabeth Raffald was a Yorkshire woman, housekeeper in the Cheshire household of Lady Elizabeth Warburton. She married Lady Elizabeth’s head gardener, left her service to run a catering establishment in Manchester, bore sixteen daughters, and managed the kitchens in two different Manchester inns. Her book, substantially as she wrote it, was still in print, and selling, a hundred years after its original publication.

A FINE SYLLABUB FROM THE COW

‘Sweeten a quart of cyder with refined sugar, grate a nutmeg over it; and milk the cow into your liquor. When you have added what is necessary, pour half-a-pint of the sweetest cream over it.’

Barbara Young, Steyning, Sussex. MS. receipt book, 1781. From
Dorset Dishes of the 18th Century
, already quoted above.

The Nineteenth Century

SOMERSETSHIRE SYLLABUB

‘Sweeten a pint of port, and another of Madeira or sherry, in a china bowl. Milk about three pints of milk over this. In a short time it will bear clouted cream laid over it. Grate nutmeg over this, and strew a few coloured comfits on the top if you choose.’

Mistress Margaret Dods,
The Cook’s and Housewife’s Manual
, 4th edition, 1819

The copious footnotes to the recipes in this book were believed by his contemporaries to have been written by Sir Walter Scott. Margaret or Meg Dods is a character in Scott’s
St Roman’s Well.
It
was also the pseudonym used by Christine Isobel Johnstone, wife of an Edinburgh publisher. Her cookery book is still one of the two main sources of authentic Scottish recipes. The other is
The Scots Kitchen
, a fine book by a living writer, Marian McNeill.
¹
The Scots Kitchen
was first published by Blackie and Son in 1929.

The Twentieth Century

My own version of Everlasting Syllabub:

One small glass, or 4 oz. of white wine or sherry, 2 tablespoons of brandy, one lemon, 2 oz. of sugar, ½ pint of double cream, nutmeg.

The day before the syllabub is to be made, put the thinly pared rind of the lemon and the juice in a bowl with the wine and brandy and leave overnight. Next day, strain the wine and lemon mixture into a large and deep bowl. Add the sugar and stir until it has dissolved. Pour in the cream slowly, stirring all the time. Grate in a little nutmeg. Now whisk the mixture until it thickens and will hold a soft peak on the whisk. The process may take 5 minutes, it may take as long as 15. It depends on the cream, the temperature and the method of whisking. Unless dealing with a large quantity of cream, an electric mixer can be perilous. A couple of seconds too long and the cream is a ruined and grainy mass. For a small amount of cream a wire whisk is perfectly satisfactory and just as quick as an electric beater. An old-fashioned wooden chocolate mill or whisk held upright and twirled between the palms of both hands is also a good implement for whisking cream. The important point is to learn to recognize the moment at which the whisking process is complete.

When the cream is ready, spoon it into glasses, which should be of very small capacity (2 to 2½ oz.) but filled to overflowing. Once in the glasses the cream will not spoil nor sink nor separate. As suggested by Sir Kenelm Digby, a tiny sprig of rosemary or a little twist of lemon peel can be stuck into each little filled glass. Keep the syllabubs in a cool place – not in the refrigerator – until you are ready to serve them. They can be made at least two days before they are needed. The quantities given will fill ten small syllabub or custard cups or sherry glasses and will be enough for four to six people. Though circumstances are so changed it is relevant to remember that in their heyday syllabubs were regarded as refreshments to be offered at card parties, ball suppers and at public
entertainments, rather than just as a pudding for lunches and dinners, although they did quite often figure as part of the dessert in the days when a choice of sweetmeats, fruits, jellies, confectionery and creams was set out in a formal symmetrical array in the centre of the table. This seems to have been particularly the case in aristocratic Scottish houses in the early decades of the eighteenth century. In
The Household Book of Lady Grisell Baillie 1692–1733
, edited, with Notes and Introduction, by Robert Scott-Moncrieff, W.S. Edinburgh, 1911, many of the bills of fare for dinners and suppers recorded between 1713 and 1728 featured syllabubs, regardless of the season. On Christmas Day 1715 ‘w’ 9 of our frinds 14 at table in all’ Lady Grisell’s dessert consisted of ratafia cream, two dishes of butter and cheese, jacolet [chocolate] walnuts and almonds, apples, stewed pears, chestnuts, ‘sillibubs and jellys’. On May 26th 1718 ‘at Mr Johnstons’ the dessert was ‘cherries, sillibubs with strawberries, sweetmeats, oranges’, and four dishes of milk. The dessert for Lord Anadall’s dinner guests on January 29th 1719, ‘10 at table’ was a specially fine affair. The way it was arranged was indicated by Lady Grisell:

At Lord Anadall’s supper that night there was lobster and roast lamb (obviously cold) ‘a ring w
^t
wild foull collops and pickles etc’ brawn, a cold tart, ‘two salvers of silibubs and jellies’, and two dishes of confections. As always, Lady Grisell’s spelling was uniquely her own.

On December 14th 1719 ‘Super at Mr Cockburn 11 at table 22 persons in al’ there were ‘eating poset in cheana [china] high dish at the head of the table, at the foot a haunch of venison, ‘in the midle of the table a pirimide sillibubs and orang cream in the past, above it sweet meets dry and wet’, on the sides black pudding, partridge, larks, celery salad ‘made and unmade’, veal collops white sauce, ‘2 boyld pullets w
^t
persley sauce, in the midle pickles of other sort than the comon ones.’