Winter Skies, Kitchen Aglow

When I first read Elizabeth David's An Omelette and A Glass of Wine, I was fascinated by the reviews of Continental restaurants and the biographies of culinary heroes, most notably de Pomiane. I find now that as I read it I am saddened by the onset of kitchen ennui. 60 years on from the earliest articles that describe this malaise, there only seems to be more and more spent on marketing powders to which one just adds water for an "instant" gravy. I would have thought deglazing the roasting dish and adding flour could not have made life easier. Au contraire, for things have degenerated even further since Ms. David's time as some people use oven-safe bags in which to roast their meat so as not to have to clean the roasting pan afterwards. A homemade gravy is actually an ingenious way to take care of the intensely caramelized bits that have stuck to the pan. The conveniences of some aspects of modernity are in fact very counterproductive and consequently inconvenient.

This is not actually a post about the wonders of gravy, but a reminder of the simpler things to do in the kitchen, the things that encourage making one's resources stretch, as opposed to creating more waste to dump. Though I often have high aspirations to execute well in the kitchen, I do not always have the time to ensure this happens. Lately, there is just too much else to do (like, reading for the theory chapter of my thesis before I head to the US). I go into the kitchen to relax and recharge between articles and books on postcolonial theory. I always want to spend more time in the safe womb of the kitchen than I am able to, but the constraint of time is still no excuse to produce something with little flavour.

And now we go back to the point of this post. Also in Ms. David's classic oeuvre is a collection of syllabub and English fool recipes. Cream, fruit, booze...What's not to like? I had 500ml of cream in the fridge that needed to be used. I couldn't remember why I bought it...was it for a rich gravy that I was to make after roasting, to top a pavlova along with slices of feijoa, or was it for the top layer of the trifle's trinity? As I rattled my brain (not recommended at this delicate stage in the research process), I discounted the choices for lack of time. I would make a fool. Was there fruit on the table? Apples, mandarins, and bananas. Only the apple would be suitable, but I would have to stew it first. Ugh. I checked the pantry and the freezer in case, for whatever reason, my parents had either canned or frozen fruit. I found canned blackberries (I don't know why we didn't have any of these on hand...they are in season, aren't they?). They had only come from as far as Australia, which assuaged my guilt over gas miles. This is my first time to choose to use canned fruit - yes, I realize the hypocrisy as I write about being less wasteful, but at least the tin can be recycled and the canning of fruit ensures none goes wasted.

Blackberry Fool

450g/1 lb canned blackberries, drained (if you can get them fresh, then use them)
3 tablespoons caster sugar
500ml/17 fl. oz (heavy) cream
30ml/1 fl. oz butterscotch schnapps

1) Blitz the blackberries and sugar in a blender until smooth.
2) Into a bowl, strain the blackberry pulp through a sieve. Do not forget to scrape the underside of the sieve. Discard seeds and other remains.
3) In a separate bowl, whip the cream until there are firm peaks.
4) Fold the blackberry liquid into the cream.
5) Fold the shot of liqueur into the cream of blackberries.
6) Spoon the fool into the chilled vessel(s) of your choice. I selected wine glasses.

You should not need to chill in the fridge because the cream should be quite cold from having been refrigerated before use. Besides, I should think that sugar not entirely dissolved would only crystallize, making for tough sediment, which you do not want when eating a fool. It should be ethereal and light. I have to say, though, that canned blackberries is not the way to go. There was no tang at all and no richness but for the cream. Also, with fresh berries you are able to pick your own dark specimens (the darkest are best to my mind). The booze in this case is unusual, for butterscotch anything is not typically paired with blackberries. I was imagining the tartness of ripe blackberries when choosing a liqueur that would counteract it, giving it a mellow note with which to play. The purple ripples in a glass make for a nice presentation and lets one forget that the onset of a bitterly cold Winter has made its presence known.

Labels: Blackberries