The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 3491

Diplomat Pudding

Pouding a la Diplomate

Prepare a salpicon of candied fruits cut in quarter-inch squares, selecting pineapple, cherries, almonds, apricots, orange peel and Smyrna raisins; pour over some hot twenty-degree syrup flavored with rum, and let all macerate for half an hour. Put in a tinned copper basin, ten egg-yolks and six ounces of sugar; beat well together and dilute with a pint of boiling milk; cook without allowing it to come to a boil, then cool off and add one pint of cream; strain through a sieve, freeze, flavor with maraschino, and mix in half as much very firm and well-drained whipped cream. Cut up some slices of Savoy biscuit (No. 3231). Take a two-quart pudding mold, incrust it in ice, line it with a layer of uncooked Andalusian ice cream (No. 3446), and on the bottom have the sliced biscuit previously soaked in rum; scatter a part of the fruit salpicon over, then place a layer of the ice cream, and continue in this way to fill the mold, finishing the top with the ice cream; set the cover on tight, pack it well in salted ice, and freeze for one hour and a half, then unmold on a napkin and serve with a sauce made of vanilla ice cream (No. 3458) flavored with rum, mixing into it half as much whipped cream (No. 50).

For the Modern Kitchen

A bombe in all but name: a two-quart mold lined with ice cream and packed with rum-soaked sponge and candied fruit. Nothing here is difficult, but the original assumes a brigade, an ice cave and a salt-and-ice freezing tub.

A Little History

Puddings of this shape run through 19th-century French confectionery under the names bombe, plombiere and pouding glace, and the diplomate version, sponge soaked in liqueur layered with candied fruit and cream, exists in both a set-custard form and this frozen one. The name is traditionally traced to the diplomatic dinners of the Restoration and July Monarchy, though the story is folk tradition rather than documented fact; it is sometimes said that a dish that could be molded in advance, unmolded whole and cut at the table suited service a la russe, and that the same logic gave the period its charlottes and its aspics, but service a la russe did not become general in France until the middle of the century, so the connection is speculation. Charles Ranhofer, chef at Delmonico's in New York for more than thirty years, published The Epicurean in 1894 as a complete record of that kitchen, and the ice chapter is one of its most revealing: it presumes a cellar of natural ice, a supply of coarse salt, and enough cooks to spin custards while others cut candied fruit into quarter-inch dice.