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"Not to Be Forgotten" Recipe Archives
Parmesan Ice Cream for the First Weekend of Summer The past is an exotic and foreign place. I recently came upon this idea in a wonderful book called Fresh From the Past: recipes and revelations from Moll Flanders' kitchen by Sandra Sherman. I love the idea of the "foreign" past. It strikes me as true. And it got me thinking that my cravings for history and travel are all bound up together with my love of the exotic in life and food. The foreign can bring a person alive. Some of us seem to be especially born with these longings for a jolt from the ordinary. Cuisines of the past can give this to us, with all sorts of wild and exotic ideas, rivaling any of the latest fusions from our most daring chefs. In Fresh From the Past, Sandra makes this point, giving us 18th century recipes from a worldly British cuisine that was funky, urbane, and fantasy-seeking. We find the likes of borage-flower vinaigrette; meatballs flavored with lemon; and pink pancakes. What especially caught my attention was a recipe for parmesan ice cream. Yes, that's right, parmesan ice cream. First I have to tell you that if you don't have an ice cream maker you should go and get one. Last summer I did exactly this after interviewing a woman who shared memories of buttermilk ice cream on a Southern porch. I was so intrigued that the very next day, I-uncharacteristically went out and bought an ice cream maker and a container of buttermilk. I am not one for extra gadgets and appliances--I have little space, and I'm a busy woman. I like things simple. But ice cream makers are happy appliances that seem to unleash creativity. You won't regret it. And indeed, my buttermilk love affair lasted many months (mango buttermilk ice cream was my favorite). I was head over heels for that edge of tart to play against the sweet, creamy cold--that search for an exotic edge. Now of course the wild ice cream trend has been around for a couple of summers now in our best restaurants. Sophisticated chefs invent all sorts of rarified combinations. I've come across miso ice cream, chicory ice cream, and chocolate and chile pepper ice cream. But perhaps these chefs should look backwards once in the while for inspiration from the past. This installment of "Not to Be Forgotten" comes from the best-selling British cookbook author, Hannah Glasse. She was an innovator in her own right, and a culinary Great One of the 18th century.
Modern Version
Now for the food history Historians tell us that frozen ice desserts may have been in China before 1000 AD. In India, ice creams have been made since at least the 16th century. A recipe from this period calls for pistachio and saffron. The Italians seemed to have a tremendous knack for the frozen desert. A book devoted to sorbets and frozen confections published in Naples, 1775 gives instructions for sorbets made with lemon, orange, strawberry, and aromatics like chocolate, cinnamon, coffee, and pine nuts. These recipes made their way to the French court and then Northern Europe--to cooks like the beloved Hannah Glasse. In the U.S., ice cream became quite popular thanks to success in the ice trade. Americans built a great ice business with ice harvested from lakes and then warehouses, and also with ice transported through its many ports. In the great American Southern cookbooks we find lovely varieties. The Kentucky Housewife (1839) included recipes for pineapple, lemon, almond, raspberry, strawberry, coconut, chocolate, peach, orange, cherry, citron, pear, quince, gooseberry, grape, vanilla, sassafras, and tea. The Virginia Housewife (first published in 1824) gave instructions for oyster, iced jelly (made from a calf's foot), and coffee. The same book also has recipes for "cold creams." But what does it taste like? Yes, I know, you're wondering if that parmesan ice cream tasted any good. The answer is yes. It's a little like frozen cheesecake, and then there is this aftertaste that makes you stop and think. My children were cautious. But they said they liked it "a little bit." My husband loved it and kept asking for more. "Hey this tastes like something you'd have in a restaurant." A very sophisticated, trendy restaurant of course. The fine print: I never share or use your email for any other purpose than sending you these old and not-to-be-forgotten recipes. To unsubscribe, just send me an email with "unsubscribe" in the subject line and your name (this is important) in the body of the message. |