The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 3459

Virgin Cream with Orange Flower Water and Noyau, Etc

Creme Vierge a la Fleur d'Orange au Noyau, etc.

Virgin creams are composed of cream, sugar and egg whites; they are cooked the same as the egg-yolk creams and are always to be left white, either finished with orange flower water, noyau, maraschino, almond milk, lemon or hazel-nuts.

Orange Flower and Noyau.—Put twelve egg-whites in a tinned basin, add one pound of sugar, and mix thoroughly with a quart of fresh cream. Cook this preparation while stirring, being careful it does not come to a boil, then remove and beat it occasionally until cold; strain through a very fine sieve, adding half a gill of noyau liquor and a gill of orange flower water, also another gill of noyau after the ice has congealed. A quarter of its quantity of Italian meringue may be incorporated into this cream when frozen. With Maraschino.—Substitute two gills of maraschino for the orange flower water. With Almond Milk.—Six ounces of almonds, including a few bitter ones, pounded with two gills and a half of cream; stir this in when the cream is cooked and partly cold. With Lemon.—Infuse the peels of two lemons after the cream is cooked. With Hazelnuts.—Half a pound of roasted, peeled and crushed hazel-nuts mingled with sugar and added to the cream before cooking.

For the Modern Kitchen Do not make this as written.

This is a set of five variations on a white custard base from Ranhofer's Delmonico's book. Two of them turn on ingredients that are no longer sold, or no longer safe, in the form the recipe assumes.

A Little History

The Epicurean (1894) was Charles Ranhofer's summary of some thirty years running the kitchen at Delmonico's in New York, and its ice cream chapter is organised the way a French chef's notebook would be: a base formula, then a column of variations. Crème vierge — virgin cream — appears to be named for its whiteness, being built on whites alone so that it freezes bone white rather than the pale yellow of an egg-yolk custard, which mattered a great deal when ices were moulded, layered and served as part of a composed dessert course. Orange flower water and noyau were among the standard perfumes of that white palette in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries; noyau, from the French for the stone of a fruit, was distilled or infused from apricot and peach kernels and prized precisely because it tasted of bitter almond. The danger in that flavour was understood well before Ranhofer's day — poisoning cases involving kernel-flavoured cordials appear in nineteenth-century medical literature — but the taste stayed fashionable.