No. 3682

Whole Peaches, Preserved—Large

Grosses Peches Entieres Confites

The Brothers Carresa, of Nice, France, prepare boxes of preserved peaches, each one containing only four, but of extraordinary size; in the boxes are also leaves, blanched with acid; they can be arranged so exquisitely that they easily pass for fine fresh ones. Drain off the peaches one by one, wipe dry on a fine cloth, then tint their surfaces with powdered carmine dissolved in water and pounded with the finger. This first layer should only be slightly tinted, then begin again on each side of the parting division, spreading the color over well with the finger so as to represent the bright shades of a fresh peach. As soon as they are tinted place them on a dish and cover entirely with clear jelly, applying it with a brush. First dress three of these peaches in a preserve dish and lay the fourth one on top of the under triangle; surround with a few peach leaves and pour some thick syrup into the bottom of the dish, being careful not to spill any over the peaches.

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For the Modern Kitchen

This is not a preserving recipe at all but a finishing and plating routine: Ranhofer assumes you have bought whole candied peaches and tells you how to make them look freshly picked on the table. Read it as instructions for dessert presentation.

What you are starting withThe peaches are whole fruit preserved in heavy syrup or candied (fruits confits), not fresh. Any large whole preserved peach in syrup will stand in; drain it thoroughly and blot it dry, because colour and glaze will not sit on a wet surface.
CarminePowdered carmine is cochineal, still sold as a food colour and still legal. It is an insect-derived pigment, so it is neither vegan nor suitable for the small number of people with a genuine cochineal allergy. Dissolve a pinch in a few drops of water; it is intensely strong and one light coat is more convincing than three.
Use a brush, not a fingerThe finger-blending is what gives the soft blush, but for anything leaving your kitchen work with a soft dry pastry brush or a piece of cotton wool. The effect is the same and the fruit is not handled.
"Clear jelly"Here it means a bright, barely-set jelly brushed on warm and left to set as a glaze; the recipe does not say which kind, though clear fruit jellies such as apple or redcurrant were the usual choice. A commercial neutral apricot or clear pectin glaze does the same job today. Brush it while the tinting is fully dry or the colour will streak.
The arrangement"The under triangle" simply means the hollow left at the centre of three peaches set in a triangle; the fourth sits in it. Ranhofer's stated unit is one box of four peaches, dressed as a single presentation dish; he gives no number of servings.
The peach leavesThe leaves in the imported boxes were bleached and preserved for looks. Peach leaves are cyanogenic and are decoration only, never eaten. If you would rather not risk a guest nibbling one, lifelike artificial leaves are the honest modern substitute.
The syrupPour the thick syrup into the dish last and low, as instructed. Syrup splashed onto a glazed peach dulls the finish immediately and there is no repairing it once set.

A Little History

Charles Ranhofer, chef of Delmonico's in New York, published The Epicurean in 1894, and entries like this one show how far a great American restaurant kitchen reached for its luxuries: the peaches are simply bought in, imported by the box from Nice, and the chef's contribution is the illusion. Nice and Apt had long been separate centres of the French fruits confits trade, candying whole fruit in progressively stronger syrups over weeks, and out-of-season fruit that looked fresh was a genuine display piece in a period before refrigerated shipping made summer peaches a winter possibility. The carmine-and-jelly technique belongs to the same nineteenth-century restaurant tradition as spun sugar and aspic-glazed centrepieces, where a dessert was expected to be looked at before it was eaten. It is worth noting how frankly Ranhofer names his supplier; much of The Epicurean reads as a record of what a well-connected chef could order from Europe as much as of what he cooked.