There was one thing in the book that always mystified me: the reference to “blancmange.” On p. 61 in my edition, Jo stops by to visit neighbor Laurie, who is laid low with a cold, and tells him, “Meg wanted me to bring some of her blancmange; she makes it very nicely.” To which Laurie replies, “’That looks too pretty to eat,’ he said, smiling with pleasure.”
I had no idea what it was. My mother mentioned that she remembered eating it as a child, usually when she was sick in bed, but there the explanation ended.
Fast forward to the present, when I found a useful book at a yard sale (I paid a dollar for it): Foods and Home Making, by Carlotta C. Greer, who identifies herself as “Head of the Department of Home Economics, John Hay High School, Cleveland.” It’s dated 1928. In her epic (the book is 635 pages long) she described just about everything a young girl might need to know about managing a household. She begins with a prologue “To the Pupil,” wherein she references Alice Freeman Palmer (president of Wellesley College), Mary Lyon (founder of Mount Holyoke College), and Jane Addams of Hull House, whose early experiences of service in their own homes apparently prepared them for “a life of large service to the world.” Descriptions of individual tasks, like dishwashing, go on for pages. There are quizzes at the end of each chapter.
And there is a recipe for blancmange, where it is defined as a “luncheon or supper dessert.” It turns out to be a simple custard thickened with cornstarch. Mystery solved! The author says “custards are . . . among the most wholesome desserts for young persons as well as for those who are not so young.”
The ingredients are ridiculously simple. The only downside is that you have to spend a lot of time cooking it slowly in a double boiler (it would burn quickly in a regular pan) and stirring steadily. (Oh, and waiting for it to set up, or you’ll never be able to unmold it in once piece.)
Blancmange (a la Carlotta Greer)
(In case you don't speak French, "blancmange" translates as "white eat." No, that doesn't make sense to me either.)
Ingredients:
2 cups whole milk
1/4 cup cornstarch
1/4 cup sugar
1 tsp vanilla
pinch of salt
Instructions:
Scald the milk. (If you are unfamiliar with scalding, put it in a pan over medium-high heat, watch it like a hawk, and then when little bubbles start to form around the edge and that wiggly skin forms over the middle, remove it from the heat ASAP.)
Ingredients:
2 cups whole milk
1/4 cup cornstarch
1/4 cup sugar
1 tsp vanilla
pinch of salt
Instructions:
Scald the milk. (If you are unfamiliar with scalding, put it in a pan over medium-high heat, watch it like a hawk, and then when little bubbles start to form around the edge and that wiggly skin forms over the middle, remove it from the heat ASAP.)
In a bowl, mix the cornstarch and the sugar until well blended. Add the hot milk to the mixture, stirring as you pour in the milk. Pour the mixture to a double boiler (over boiling water) and cook, stirring constantly until the mixture begins to thicken, then continue cooking (Ms. Greer estimates around 30 minutes). Remove from the heat and add the flavoring and salt. Stir.
Note: I have no clue how thick it’s supposed to be. I followed the instructions and got a thick liquid, but it was nowhere near set up.
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| I just happened to have a nice vintage mold, from a yard sale at the house where I bought Mrs. Greer's book--a year ago. |
Rinse out cups or molds with cold water, then pour the pudding in. Set aside to cool. (This is one of the vaguest instructions I have met. How cool is cool? I waited until it was at room temperature: nope, sloshy still. I waited until the next day, actually, before I dared try to unmold it.)
Ms. Greer wraps it up thus: “It is not ready to serve until the mixture is stiff.” Notice there is no mention of refrigeration, and no clue as to how long it will take to become stiff. Try to unmold it too soon and you will get a puddle on a plate.
Ms. Greer wraps it up thus: “It is not ready to serve until the mixture is stiff.” Notice there is no mention of refrigeration, and no clue as to how long it will take to become stiff. Try to unmold it too soon and you will get a puddle on a plate.
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| Hallelujah! It worked! |
When stiff, turn from the mold onto a plate or plates and garnish it with sugar and cream or fruit. Or, as Louisa May Alcott would have it, “surrounded by a garland of green leaves and the scarlet flowers of Amy’s pet geranium.”
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| Sorry, I didn't have any blooming geraniums handy. |
Supposedly it makes five medium servings. You can add other flavoring, such as chocolate.
So now I know what blancmange is. Would I make it again? Well . . . I’m not a big pudding fan, and custard is easier to make, but this does have a pleasant texture and flavor (and little fat!). But I have now paid tribute to literary history. (And if you happen to find yourself in Concord, Massachusetts, you can visit the Alcott house and see the kitchen where no doubt many blancmanges were created. The story told there is that Louisa used her first income from writing to buy her mother a kitchen sink, which is still in place.)
So now I know what blancmange is. Would I make it again? Well . . . I’m not a big pudding fan, and custard is easier to make, but this does have a pleasant texture and flavor (and little fat!). But I have now paid tribute to literary history. (And if you happen to find yourself in Concord, Massachusetts, you can visit the Alcott house and see the kitchen where no doubt many blancmanges were created. The story told there is that Louisa used her first income from writing to buy her mother a kitchen sink, which is still in place.)
And of course I have to mention the Orchard Mystery Series, because the Alcott home is known locally as Orchard House.
HAVE A WONDERFUL
FOURTH OF JULY!
