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Fruit Bavarois with Cream
Place on ice a plain charlotte mould and decorate it inside with any small fruit in season at the time, which dip into liquid jelly in order to make them adhere to the mould. Pour over a little more of the jelly so as to cover, but take care not to disturb the pieces of fruit. When the jelly is set, insert in the mould a smaller one, about an inch and a half less in diameter. Fill the space between the moulds with more of the jelly and fruit, and when these have set and are quite firm, remove the inner mould by pouring warm water on it. Fill the center of the large mould with strawberry or any other kind of cream, and let it remain until set. Turn the bavarois out of the mold onto a dish, loosening it by dampening the mould with a hot cloth. Decorate the top with diamond-shaped pieces of angelica about an inch in length, and in the center of these pile a little whipped cream, sprinkle over with finely-shredded pistachio kernels, color a little more of the cream with a few drops of cochineal, take it up in small quantities and garnish the dish with it, and serve.
This is an assembly job rather than a cooking one: the whole thing hinges on setting a fruit-studded jelly lining in stages, so patience with each layer matters more than any single ingredient. Read it as a two-mould, three-stage build.
- The hinge: jelly at the right stage"Liquid jelly" means gelatin that has been melted and then cooled to just above setting point — syrupy, not hot. Hot jelly will melt what is already set and float the fruit; jelly that is too cool will not adhere or flow evenly.
- Charlotte mouldA plain, straight-sided tin about 6 inches across and 4 inches deep, which holds roughly two quarts. Any plain deep mould works. The inner mould should be about 1.5 inches smaller in diameter, as the recipe directs, so the jelly wall ends up around three-quarters of an inch thick.
- "Place on ice"An ice bath or a bowl of ice, as the recipe directs. The refrigerator does the same job, but the ice bath sets each jelly layer faster.
- Weighting the inner mouldThe recipe does not mention it, but the smaller mould will tend to float when jelly is poured around it unless it is weighted with ice water or dried beans. Warm water then releases it later, as directed.
- The cream"Strawberry or any other kind of cream" means a bavarian cream — fruit purée or custard base, gelatin, and whipped cream folded in. It must be soft enough to pour into the cavity but already thickening, or it will seep into any gap in the jelly wall.
- AngelicaCandied angelica stem, the standard green garnish of the period, is now a specialty item. Candied citron cut to shape, or thin strips of candied lime peel, give the same effect.
- CochinealA red colouring made from dried scale insects, still sold as carmine and still used commercially. A modern red food colouring or a spoonful of raspberry purée does the same work; note that carmine is not vegan and is an allergen for a small number of people.
- UnmouldingA cloth wrung out in hot water, held against the outside for a few seconds at a time, is more controllable than dipping the mould in hot water — gelatin lined with fruit slumps quickly once it warms.
- YieldA mould of this size serves eight to ten. It must be fully set, which in practice means at least four hours cold and preferably overnight before turning out.
Bavarois, or bavarian cream, is a nineteenth-century French pastry-kitchen staple — a custard or fruit base set with gelatin and lightened with whipped cream — whose connection to Bavaria is traditional and never satisfactorily explained. The striking feature here is the elaborate lining: a jelly wall studded with fruit, built in two pourings between nested moulds, so the dessert arrives at the table looking like a piece of glasswork. That kind of labour was the point. The Waldorf of the 1890s, where Oscar Tschirky was maître d'hôtel, ran a brigade large enough to devote hours to a cold sweet, and the finishing touches here — angelica diamonds, shredded pistachio, cochineal-tinted cream — are the vocabulary of the grand-hotel entremets, meant to be admired before it was eaten. Commercially prepared gelatin was available by this date, which made showpieces like this more practical than boiling down calves' feet.