Home › The Waldorf Kitchen › Strawberry Chartreuse
Strawberry Chartreuse
Pick off the tops of two pounds of ripe strawberries, and cut them into halves lengthwise. Prepare one quart of calf's foot jelly, flavor it with lemon, and leave it until slightly cooled. Pour a thin layer of the jelly in the bottom of a large mould, and then arrange a layer of the strawberries on top, cover them with a little jelly and leave till set. When the jelly in the large mould is quite firm, stand a smaller mould inside. Fill the space between the moulds with strawberries, filling up the cavities with jelly, then set the mould on the ice. Dissolve one-half ounce of isinglass in a little water, then mix with it one-half pint of strawberry juice and sweeten to taste with powdered sugar. Whisk one pint of cream to a froth, stir it in by degrees with the strawberry juice. When the jelly has set, pour a little warm water in the smallest mould to loosen it, then take it carefully out of the large one. Fill the hollow with the cream, and leave the mould in ice till the cream has set. When ready to serve, dip the mould in tepid water, wipe it, and turn the chartreuse out onto a fancy dish.
A Victorian moulded dessert built in stages, with a jelly-and-strawberry outer wall and a strawberry cream centre. Nothing here is difficult, but each layer has to set hard before the next goes on, so plan on a full day.
- Calf's foot jellyA quart of clear, lemon-flavoured jelly set from simmered calf's feet — the household gelatin of the period. Substitute a quart of lemon-flavoured jelly set with about 1 oz (four 1/4-oz envelopes) of powdered gelatin; it must be firm enough to stand unsupported when unmoulded, which is stiffer than a modern spoon dessert.
- IsinglassDried sturgeon swim bladder, used as a setting agent. Half an ounce of it is roughly equivalent to two envelopes of powdered gelatin, though isinglass strength varied a great deal and the conversion is approximate. Bloom the gelatin in cold water, dissolve it warm, and cool it before it meets the cream.
- The hinge: temperature of the cream mixtureThe strawberry-gelatin base must be cool to the touch but still fluid when the whipped cream goes in. Too warm and the cream deflates into soup; too cool and it seizes into lumps that will show as streaks when the dessert is turned out.
- "Set the mould on the ice"An ice chest or a bowl of ice. The refrigerator does the same job — allow two to three hours for each jelly layer and at least four hours, preferably overnight, for the filled centre.
- The inner mouldAny straight-sided vessel that fits with an inch or so of clearance all round: a smaller bowl or a tin will do. Weight it with dried beans or pie weights so it does not float up as the jelly is poured around it.
- Powdered sugarIn this period the term usually meant finely ground granulated sugar rather than the cornstarch-laced confectioners' sugar sold now. Either dissolves in the strawberry juice; superfine sugar is the closer match.
- Whipping the creamTake it to soft peaks only. Firm peaks fold badly into a gelatin base and give a grainy, buttery texture once chilled.
- UnmouldingFive to ten seconds in tepid water is enough. Longer and the outer jelly slumps; if it resists, run a thin knife around the rim rather than returning it to the water.
- YieldTwo pounds of berries, a quart of jelly and a pint of cream make a substantial centrepiece — ten to twelve servings.
A chartreuse takes its name from the Carthusian monks, whose meatless diet is traditionally credited with the original dish: vegetables arranged in a decorative lining around a moulded filling. By the nineteenth century the word had loosened to mean almost any dish built in a mould with a patterned outer wall and a contrasting centre, and sweet fruit versions like this one were standard grand-restaurant work. The mould-within-a-mould method belongs to an era when kitchens had ice, plenty of hands, and a clientele that expected dessert to arrive looking architectural. Oscar Tschirky, who oversaw the Waldorf's dining rooms from 1893, collected this sort of set piece alongside the plainer American cooking in his book — a reminder that the hotel's reputation rested as much on presentation as on flavour.