The Cook Book by “Oscar” of the Waldorf

Three thousand recipes from the maitre d'hotel of the Waldorf — the hotel kitchen that taught Gilded Age America how to dine, from beef tea to watermelon with champagne.

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Peach Sponge

Strain the juice from a can of preserved peaches and pass the fruit through a fine hair-sieve, then beat it up with the juice and a small quantity of sugar. Put one ounce of isinglass in a basin with one-half pint of cream, let it steep for some time, then stand the basin in a stewpan containing boiling water, and stir the contents until the isinglass has dissolved. Mix the fruit pulp with the cream and stir it, out of the water, until nearly cold. Whisk the whites of three eggs to a stiff froth, stir them in with the cream, and pile it up high in the center of a glass dish. Select several small thickly-berried sprays of holly and brush each leaf carefully over with a strong solution of gum arabic, strew powdered sugar over and leave them until dry. Arrange the sprays of holly round the sponge, and serve.

For the Modern Kitchen Do not make this as written.

Two things in this recipe put it out of bounds: the egg whites are never cooked, and the garnish is a toxic plant dressed up to look like candy. The archaic terms are worth knowing all the same.

A Little History

A "sponge" in late-nineteenth-century American and British cookery meant a cold gelatine dessert lightened with whisked egg white until it held a spongy, aerated texture — a family that included lemon sponge, coffee sponge and the fruit versions, related to the fruit fool and to the charlotte russe. They relied on isinglass, the fish-derived setting agent long used in fine cookery alongside the commercial packaged gelatines that were becoming common by the end of the century, and on canned fruit that let a chef produce a peach dish in December. The holly garnish suggests the Christmas table: sugared and gummed leaves, frosted grapes and spun-sugar work belonged to a tradition of centrepieces meant to be admired rather than eaten. Oscar Tschirky, the Waldorf's celebrated maitre d'hotel, compiled his 1896 Cook Book as a reference of some nine hundred pages, and dishes like this one show the hotel dining room's taste for a dessert that arrived at the table piled high and framed like a display piece.

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