The empress of ice cream

Carlo

In a hurry, a simple ice may be fashioned from eggnog, or custard, or fruit, or any mixture of the three.

The Book of Ices

‘Twenty! I cannot make twenty ices by dinner time.’

The man who had brought the message shrugged. ‘That is the request.’

I sighed. ‘Very well. Say that I will see what I can do. And have a carriage here at six.’

It is not possible to make cream ices in a hurry, but a good quantity of granite may be prepared in a few minutes, if you have a syrup to pour on them. Cordials, too, can be boiled up in no time, if you have a supply of ice with which to cool them down. And even creams can be approximated, if you have preserved fruits with which to flavour your milk as you churn it. In Paris I could have responded to Louise’s request with a snap of my fingers, and my apprentices would have rushed to get everything ready in time.

But here in London, I had no apprentices. And no one I could trust not to steal my secrets.

‘Why are you shouting?’ Elias enquired.

‘I am uttering profanities in Italian,’ I told him. ‘But now I am going to utter instructions in English. Put on that glove, and grate as much ice as you can.’

‘5?, signor^ he said happily.

‘Not like that, or we will be here all night,’ I said, showing him. ‘And I must get some syrups on to boil. Who is there who can go to the market for me?’

‘Mary is free,’ he said, pulling on the grating glove.

‘TH*en send Mary for oranges. And more sugar.’

‘What is going on?’

It was Hannah, having heard the commotion.

‘The queen is coming to supper with Madam Carwell,’ Elias told her.

‘You cannot possibly make enough orange syrup in time,’ Hannah said, taking in the situation. ‘Send Mary out for oranges by all means, but you must squeeze the juice fresh and serve it with some sprigs of mint and a little cardamom,’

I had not, at that time, heard the English expression beginning ‘Too many cooks’, but I was quickly becoming familiar with the sentiment. ‘There is no time to debate this. I need to serve ices to Her Majesty—’

‘I have made a posset,’ she interrupted. ‘You can have it.’

That brought me up short. ‘How much?’

‘A gallon. Enough for twenty, if you freeze it.’

‘Making ices is not quite as simple as that.’

She sighed. ‘I do not mean to suggest that it is. But I think, all the same, that the posset will freeze adequately, just as the custard did. Think of it as a kind of cook’s short cut.’

By now Mary, Rose and the landlord, Titus, had all joined us. I had to make a quick decision. ‘Very well,’ I said. ‘I will freeze the posset' But get some oranges as well. We will squeeze them for juice. And lemons too - we will make a syrup.’ ,

‘Do not pay more than sixpence for the oranges,’ Hannah added to Mary. ‘Go to Robin Marchmont, and tell him I sent you. Rose, tell Peter to get the stove hot. And I will fetch the posset.’

Posset^ I should explain, is a concoction the English are especially fond of, a kind of eggnog made with wine and spices. It was often served in the taverns, both as a warming drink and as a kind of dessert. This one was flavoured not just with lemon juice, sweet wine and nutmeg but also another taste I could not at first identify.

‘What is that?’ I asked. ‘Some kind of herb?’

Hannah nodded. ‘Sweet cicely. Just a pinch.’

I put down the spoon. ‘Well, it will have to do. Elias, how does the ice?’

‘I have nearly^done the whole block,’ he reported, his cheeks pink from the effort of grating.

‘We will need at least twice that.’ I picked up the paddle, and hesitated. Now I had to pack the sahotiere with ice and salt so that I could freeze the posset. At this stage I would usually have asked everyone present to leave, but today I could not afford to have them stop what they were doing.

Making the best I could of the situation, I took the various ingredients off to a corner. To confuse an eavesdropper even further, I spoke some Latin over the pail as I stirred it.

''Dominus virtutum nobiscum^ I added, recalling some words from a Catholic psalm.

And so we proceeded for the next two hours, making the orange cordial and thickening a lemon syrup for the granite while I periodically turned back to the sabotiere to work the ice mix as it froze. Hannah suggested that we send out for some jellies as well, so Rose was despatched to purchase quiddanies from Mrs Lamb around the corner, and by the time the carriage arrived we had almost pulled together a respectable collation. I was not in such a rush, however, that I neglected to taste the frozen posset: to my surprise, it was possessed of a smooth, rich texture that I had only achieved twice before, once on the day of Madame’s funeral, and once when I froze Hannah’s custard.