Oh, the pressures of summer. The uncertain allocation of gorgeous days that must be enjoyed as they present themselves, regardless of duties and commitments. The joy of seeing the days grow longer in spring curtailed by the knowledge that the moment summer has started, they will so quickly shorten again. The short-lived seasons of asparagus and artichokes, berries and stone fruit, the pain of their ever so fleeting nature amplified by the marvel they offer. The slipping by of last chances one after another.
So we shall bathe our faces and legs in the sun while it’s there, and feast on summer’s bounty while we can. Today: gooseberries.
For most Brits, gooseberries in all shapes and forms instantly provoke a flood of childhood memories. Having spent my young years in the low countries, I can only recall one childhood moment in which gooseberries were involved, and those weren’t even fresh. But they’re much like redcurrants, of which we had a bush in our small but well-used garden, and which I adored even as a child. Unlike redcurrants, gooseberries don’t offer the joy of allowing to be picked from their stem and popped into one’s mouth small translucent ball by small translucent ball. In fact, the earliest gooseberries of the season are too tart to eat raw at all. They are, however, a great fruit for cooking. And when in Britain, there’s really only one option for cooking them. Fools.
Fools are thoroughly, properly British. Soft whipped cream, perhaps some custard, and stewed summer fruits, to be spooned courteously from a small glass. And gooseberry fools may be the most British of British fools. Even Henry VIII in all historical likeliness enjoyed summertime gooseberry fools. Not that it would be advisable to pay too much heed to his ways. Then again, no reason we should. Today is summer. Today is gooseberries for gooseberries’ sake. They are here now, and they should be celebrated. So today, no fewer than three fools. It’s only appropriate. Indulge!
Gooseberry fool (the Tudor way)
From: THE COMPLEAT COOK, Expertly prescribing the most ready wayes, Whether, Italian, Spanish, or French, For dressing of Flesh, and Fish, Ordering of Sauces or making OF PASTRY. LONDON: Printed by E.B. for Nath. Brook, at the Angel in Cornhill, 1658.
To make the best Gooseberry Fool:
To make a Gooseberry Fool. Take your Gooseberries, and put them in a Silver or Earthen Pot, and set it in a Skillet of boyling Water, and when they are coddled enough strain them, then make them hot again, when they are scalding hot, beat them very well with a good piece of fresh butter, Rose-water and Sugar, and put in the yolke of two or three Eggs; you may put Rose-water into them, and so stir it altogether, and serve it to the Table when it is cold.
Gooseberry fool (according to Nigel Slater)
For minimalists.
a pack of tart gooseberries
a few spoonfuls of sugar
whipping cream (two-thirds the weight of the gooseberries)
Top and tail the gooseberries, then stew them with some sugar till they disintegrate. If your berries are the sweet kind, just leave the sugar out. Whip the cream until it forms soft folds (not stiff peaks); Nigel pre-chills the bowl and whips by hand. Once the gooseberries have cooled down (important, or the cream will separate), mash them and fold into the cream. A 450g pack of gooseberries should serve about 6.
{And the ultimate}
Gooseberry and elderflower fool
This one’s my favourite so far. It has a bit more going on, with custard and elderflower cordial added to the gooseberry-and-cream base. If you’re in a gooseberry-devoid area, any other type of currant would probably work as well. I imagine it would also be nice to fold in some whipped thick yoghurt, for a slightly fresher touch.
The custard element of this recipe is (quite appropriately, I can’t resist noting) adapted from Mary Berry’s ‘real proper’ custard. I used about half the quantity of custard below for a 450g pack of gooseberries (so that the finished dessert is 3:1:1 gooseberries to custard to cream). But you’d be a fool not to double the recipe. Custard is delicious. (For a real British treat, try the extras with fish fingers.)
a pack of tart gooseberries
a splash of elderflower cordial
whipping cream (a third the weight of the gooseberries)
250ml whole milk
1 vanilla pod or ¼ tsp vanilla extract
2 egg yolks (freeze the whites for meringues and the like)
2–3 tsp caster sugar (I use unrefined)
1 level tsp cornflour
First, make the custard. Heat the milk in a small pan with the vanilla pod. In a bowl, whisk together the egg yolks, sugar and cornflour, plus the vanilla extract, if that’s what you’re using. Tip the hot milk into the bowl while whisking continuously, then return the mixture to the pan. Simmer until set, but don’t allow to boil, all the while stirring with a wooden spoon. Cool.
Top and tail the gooseberries, then stew for ten minutes or so, until they burst. (It is perfectly acceptable, and for the reluctant dishwasher, recommended, to do this in the uncleaned custard pan – custard removed, of course.) Since the elderflower cordial is quite sweet, you don’t really need extra sugar, but if you want to add just a little, go ahead. Cool. When cold, stir in a good splash of elderflower cordial.
Whip the cream to form soft folds. Combine with the elderflowered gooseberries, and fold in half of the chilled custard.
- Naomi
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