Since I started this blog more than five years ago, I’ve discovered how much literature can tell us about the food preferences and practices of a particular society or culture. From the non-appearance of food in the epic poem Beowulf – the mark of a heroic society with little interest in anything apart from fighting (and drinking), to the creation of elaborate dinner parties to impress eligible bachelors in Jane Austen’s novels and, in stark contrast, the basic and unappetizing meals eaten by the working-class characters of Alan Sillitoe’s novels, literature is a valuable source of information and interest for the interested foodie.
And literature does not just tell us about the way food was perceived, and how it was eaten at any particular moment in time, but also about what was eaten. Some of the most fun I’ve had has been with researching foodstuffs and dishes that I had never heard of before: the medieval ‘frytour blaunched’ (little almond sweetmeats), ‘rout cakes’ (from Jane Austen’s Emma), ‘ham cake’ (from Winifred Holtby’s South Riding) and ‘chester cake’ (from Muriel Spark’s The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie).
Whilst these texts are all set more or less at the time they were written, with the referenced food presumably being familiar to contemporary readers, it is not uncommon for writers to set their texts at a different period of time from when they are writing – usually earlier. And in some of these cases food can then play a key role in rooting the narrative in a particular historical period.
A case in point is Kate Atkinson’s Life after Life which I blogged about in summer 2016. Atkinson’s 2013 Costa prize winning novel unfolds between 1910 and 1967, with an emphasis on the two world wars and the inter-war period. As I wrote at the time, food plays a key role in the book with there being at least 59 episodes in which characters are depicted eating. Most of the food is classic English food from the period, well-known nowadays even if it is not as widely eaten now as it was then: bakewell tart, jam roly-poly, raspberry and redcurrant jam. But Atkinson also includes dishes that are rarer these days, many of which I had not heard of, thus obliging me to peruse the internet and do some food research: cabinet pudding (a steamed pudding made of left-over cake and bread, with fruit), milk fadge (a quick version of bread, with milk as a key ingredient) and sole veronique (a fashionable French fish dish from the early 20th century). The food serves as clues to the historical setting of the novel, as well as telling the reader about characters’ backgrounds, social class and aspirations.
Elizabeth Jane Howard uses food in a similar way in her novel The Light Years. Published in 1990, but set in the years leading up to the Second World War, Howard’s novel is the first in The Cazalet Chronicles, a series of five novels which follows three generations of the privileged middle-class Cazalet family from 1937 to the 1950s.
In the foreground to The Light Years are the Cazalets’ familial relationships: marriages, infidelities, bereavements, abuse… but lurking in the background is war, both the legacy of the First World War (one of the characters is traumatised from his experiences on the battlefields) and the looming threat of the Second. The novel ends with what the reader knows is a false hope that war will be averted through the efforts of Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain to appease Hitler.
Like Life after Life, The Light Years is a food frenzy, with more than 30 episodes of characters eating. And like Atkinson’s work, Howard’s novel abounds with classic British food which contemporary readers will almost certainly have heard of – but may well never have eaten: roast pheasant, chicken rissoles, salmon croquettes, blancmange, junket, Gentleman’s relish. Whilst there were fewer references to dishes that were unfamiliar I did have to research Charlotte Russe (an Edwardian dessert similar to a trifle) and castle puddings (individual sponge puddings baked in the oven in – you guessed it – castle-shaped moulds).
As with Atkinson’s characters, there is a degree of sophistication amongst the Cazalet family evidenced in their occasional choice of French food – eclairs, sole veronique (as in Life after Life) and souffles (both fish and chocolate).
In fact chocolate souffle is the most frequently cited food in The Light Years appearing three times. Having never made a souffle, and aware that they are considered a culinary challenge, I was slightly daunted by the prospect but felt that this was something I should try. I’m pleased to report that they worked well based on this loose adaptation of a Mary Berry recipe – but you must eat them as soon as they emerge from the oven (30 seconds after the photo below was taken, my souffle had sunk). So if you’re cooking them for guests, do the first part before dinner and then finish them off after the main course.
CAZALET CHOCOALTE SOUFFLES:
Ingredients (makes 4 individual souffles):
Softened butter and caster sugar for lining the ramekins
90g dark chocolate (ideally 70% cocoa solids)
150ml milk
15g cocoa powder
2 large free-range egg yolks
30g caster sugar
20g plain flour
3 large free-range egg whites
20g caster sugar
2 tablespoons icing sugar
Method:
Grease 4 ramekin dishes with butter and dust with caster sugar.
Melt the chocolate in a small bowl over a small pan of simmering water. When it is melted remove from the heat and allow to cool.
In a medium bowl whisk the egg yolks and caster sugar until pale, then stir in the flour.
Place the milk and cocoa powder in a saucepan and bring gradually to the boil. Remove from the heat and pour onto the egg mixture, whisking continuously so it doesn’t turn into scrambled eggs. Pour the mixture back into the saucepan and bring to the boil whilst whisking continuously over a medium heat. Cook for one minute until thickened. Take off the heat and whisk in the melted chocolate.
Spoon the mixture into a bowl and cover with the surface with cling film or greaseproof paper to prevent a skin forming; leave to cool to room temperature.
When you are ready for pudding…
Preheat the oven to 190C / 170C fan / Gas mark 5. Place a heavy baking tray on the middle shelf of the oven.
Whisk the egg whites to soft peaks in a clean, dry bowl. Add the sugar and whisk to make a stiff and glossy meringue.
Whisk one third of the meringue into the chocolate mixture, then fold in the remaining mixture.
Divide the mixture evenly between the ramekin dishes, smoothing the top.
Bake in the oven for 16-18 minutes until well-risen. Do not open the oven door whilst they are baking.
Remove from the oven, sprinkle with sieved icing sugar and serve immediately.
But they taste just as good, even if they sink!