I thought I knew what syllabub was. A cool, creamy dessert usually eaten by historical romance heroines at a ball or rout.
But then I read Mrs. Beeton’s recipe…
1 pint sherry or white wine,
1/2 grated nutmeg
Sugar to taste
1 1/2 pints milk
And, confusingly, she then says:
“clouted cream may be held on the top…and a little brandy may be added to the wine before the milk is put in. …Warm milk may be poured on from a spouted jug…but it must be held very high.”
The penny suddenly dropped. It’s a drink! A sort of cloudy wine punch with a head or layer of cream on top. The dessert version was based on the drink and became popular in the eighteenth century. I just needed to substitute cream for milk.
Here’s what I used:
200 ml of white wine
Pinch of nutmeg
1/8 cup of sugar (I don’t like things too sweet, so you may want to increase this)
300 ml of double cream
The Method:
Put the wine, nutmeg, and sugar in a bowl. Don’t do what I did and use the prosecco that you think has gone flat only to whimper when you realize it was still fizzy after all and you could have drunk it. Just some words for the wise.
Whisk it, then add the cream, and whisk again for bloody ages until your arm feels like it might fall off and the cream forms soft peaks. Or cheat and use an electric whisk. Mrs. Beeton won’t mind and you’ll be done in about 2 minutes.
Transfer between four or more wine glasses until you end up with about 6 of these:
I don’t know what’s happening because these look quite… nice?
Leave somewhere cool for several hours. Full disclosure, I decided not to get too “method” and stuck mine in the fridge.
When they’re ready, bring in your test subjects.
Verdict:
Well, this was a surprise! My hopes weren’t high but Mr Bennet and I ate all of ours. It’s creamy with a delicate white wine taste at first but, the closer you get to the bottom, the boozier it gets. Extremely yummy. Syllabub for the win!
8 yr old tried a speck and pronounced it disgusting but he shouldn’t be having it anyway.
15 yr old liked this and wants a whole one tomorrow. Might let him, might eat it myself.
Julia Bennet 