No. 3109

Schiller Pudding

Pouding a la Schiller

Prepare twelve to fifteen large pancakes and with some of them line a liberally buttered cylindrical mold (Fig. 150). Cover half of the remaining pancakes with a layer of apricot marmalade (No. 3675), and the other half with frangipane cream (No. 43); roll these pancakes up separately into rolls and cut them into three-quarter inch thick slices; range these in alternate layers inside the mold with a few candied cherries washed in hot water interspersed between. Put in a vessel twelve yolks and two whole eggs, also six ounces of vanilla sugar (No. 3165); beat up well and then stir in a quart of milk. Pass it through a fine wire strainer into the mold. Lay the mold in water reaching to half its height; set it on the fire and when it comes to a boil put it into a slack oven to cook for one hour; remove, let stand and unmold on a dish; brush the pudding over with apricot marmalade and serve with a sauce-boat of English cream and vanilla sauce (No. 3004).

← No. 3108 Scotch Pudding Hot Entremets — Puddings, Fritters & Soufflés No. 3110 Spanish Pudding →

For the Modern Kitchen

This is a cabinet pudding built from rolled crêpes rather than sponge or ladyfingers, set with a very rich baked custard. The hinge is heat control: the custard must never simmer, or the pudding weeps and the pancake spirals collapse when unmolded.

"Pancakes" means crêpesRanhofer's pancakes are thin French crêpes, not American breakfast pancakes; no diameter is given here beyond "large." Twelve to fifteen is right for lining a mold and filling it; make a few extra, as the lining sheets need to be unbroken.
Slack ovenThe book's own term; a slack or slow oven is generally read as roughly 250–300F. With the mold already brought to a boil in its water bath on the stovetop, an hour at that heat is about right, but go by the custard: around 170–175F at the center, with only a faint wobble.
The moldA cylindrical mold here means something on the order of a charlotte mold or a straight-sided tin; Ranhofer gives no capacity, but a quart of custard plus the pancake rolls needs a generous one, two quarts or more. Butter it heavily and, if you want insurance, line the bottom with a buttered parchment round.
Frangipane cream (No. 43)In The Epicurean this is a cooked pastry cream enriched with crushed macaroons or almonds — not the raw almond-butter frangipane of a modern tart. A thick vanilla pastry cream with ground almonds and a few crushed almond macaroons folded in gives the same effect.
Apricot marmaladeNot citrus marmalade: a thick apricot jam, sieved smooth and cooked down until it holds a shape on the spoon. Anything loose will bleed into the custard and soften the rolls.
Vanilla sugarSix ounces is about ¾ cup plus a little. Ranhofer's version (No. 3165) is sugar pounded with vanilla beans; sugar stored a week with a split bean, or granulated sugar blitzed with half a bean, does the job.
Candied cherriesWashing in hot water rinses off the heavy syrup so the fruit does not sink or stain. Pat them dry before layering, and use them sparingly — a few per layer, as written.
Custard richnessTwelve yolks plus two whole eggs to a quart of milk is a dense, almost flan-like set. Strain it as directed, and skim the foam off the surface before it goes into the oven or the unmolded pudding will show bubbles.
Resting and unmoldingLet the pudding stand 20 to 30 minutes out of the water bath before turning it out; hot custard has no structure and will slump. Warm the apricot glaze slightly so it brushes on thin.
YieldThe recipe gives no yield; a quart of custard with twelve to fifteen pancakes will serve roughly eight to twelve. The English cream and vanilla sauce (No. 3004) is a crème anglaise, served warm or barely tepid in a sauce boat.

A Little History

The Epicurean (1894) is Charles Ranhofer's record of thirty years' cooking at Delmonico's in New York, and this pudding sits in a long run of numbered entremets that are essentially variations on one idea: layered sweet elements bound in custard and baked in a water bath, the family that includes cabinet pudding and pouding diplomate. The name honors Friedrich Schiller, part of a nineteenth-century restaurant habit of attaching poets, composers, singers and statesmen to dishes; the specific connection between Schiller and rolled apricot crêpes is not documented and was likely no more than a compliment paid to German-speaking patrons or a fashionable evening. What the recipe does tell you is how a great kitchen used its scraps of technique — pancakes, pastry cream, jam, candied fruit, a surplus of egg yolks left over from meringues and glazes — and turned them into something that arrived at the table looking architectural.