The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 3513

Nenuphar Punch—Lilies

Punch Nenuphar

Place in a vessel the peel of one lemon, the peel of half an orange, half an ounce of coriander seeds and a small piece of Ceylon cinnamon, also four drops of extract of citron; set it in a heater or expose to the sun for four hours in a hermetically closed earthen vessel; afterward pass it through a filter and add a quart of syrup at thirty-two degrees. Mix the whole well and bring the composition to sixteen degrees, coloring to a light pink; strain through a very fine sieve and freeze. When the ice begins to congeal pour in three gills of kirsch and maraschino and half its volume of Italian meringue (No. 140). Use this ice for filling some gum paste Nenuphar lilies and serve at once.

For the Modern Kitchen

A punch ice — a spirit-laced sorbet — from Ranhofer's frozen-dessert chapter, written for a kitchen with a sugar hydrometer and a pastry department. Two things need translating before it can be made: the degree scale, and the fact that the infusion liquid is never named.

A Little History

Punch ices occupied a specific slot in the long nineteenth-century dinner: a half-frozen, heavily spirited sorbet served partway through the meal, before or in place of the roast, to reset the palate. Ranhofer, chef at Delmonico's in New York, gives dozens of them in The Epicurean (1894), each named for a place, a fruit or — as here — a piece of decoration. Nenuphar is the French word for water lily, and the name belongs to the presentation rather than the flavor: the ice is a coriander-and-cinnamon spiced citrus punch, spooned into white sugar-paste lilies. Sculpted pastillage of this kind was a mark of a full pastry brigade, and dishes like this one were as much about what the kitchen could build as what it could cook. The Baume hydrometer readings throughout the chapter reflect the same professional world — sugar density measured by instrument, not guessed at by eye.