The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 3160

Custard or Bain-Marie Cream

Creme au Bain-Marie

Break five whole eggs in a vessel, add three yolks, six ounces of sugar (powdered), grated lemon and orange peel and a grain of salt. Dilute with two gills of milk and two gills of cream, beat up the preparation, strain it several times through a sieve, then pour it into a souffle pan (Fig. 182) or simply into a china pie dish (Fig. 183). Stand this vessel in a pan containing boiling water and push it in a slack oven to bake. Take it out after forty-five or fifty minutes. As soon as the cream is firm take it out and leave cool. Just when ready to serve unmold it on a cold dish, and dress over the top some whipped cream flavored with lemon.

Another way.-Have one pint of milk and one pint of raw cream, six eggs and eight yolks, half a pound of powdered sugar, one grain of salt and either some orange-flower water, zests or vanilla. Dilute with the milk and cream and strain through a sieve; put this preparation into a buttered mold in a saucepan with boiling water reaching to half its height; push it into a slack oven and when the cream is firm to the touch unmold it on a dish.

For the Modern Kitchen

A baked custard set firm enough to unmold, from Ranhofer's cold entremets. Two versions are given: the first is a moderate custard, the second nearly twice as rich in egg and intended to stand up on a dish.

A Little History

The bain-marie gives this custard its name — a vessel standing in hot water, a technique old enough that the term was already standard French kitchen vocabulary long before Charles Ranhofer set down The Epicurean in 1894 from his years as chef at Delmonico's in New York. The word is generally traced to medieval alchemy and the figure of Maria the Jewess, credited in later sources with the gentle water-heated apparatus; whether the attribution is historical or legendary, the point of the thing is unchanged, which is to hold a protein below the temperature at which it seizes. Ranhofer's placement of the recipe among the cold entremets is worth noting: this is not a nursery pudding but a molded dessert meant to be turned out whole and dressed with whipped cream, the sort of dish a nineteenth-century restaurant kitchen could prepare in the morning and hold for evening service. The numbered entries on either side of it — custard in a dish, custard with caramel — show how systematically he worked through variations on a single base, which is much of what makes the book useful to read straight through.