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Trifling with tradition
Woe to the unfortunate trifle. She's a little nothing of a word, lacking in consequence. As a noun she is an insignificant detail, something of small importance. She doesn't fare much better as a verb, where she wastes time, idles or acts frivolously. Who would ever want to keep company with poor trifle? But, let me tell you, when dessert time rolls around, trifle sashays into the spotlight — voluptuous, flamboyant, sometimes a bit boozy, always alluring. No one overlooks this trifle. As a dessert, she goes to your head. Maybe that's why, as I have worked on this summertime column about one of my all time favorite desserts, I completely forgot about the little fact that trifle is actually a British dessert, eaten at Christmas time. Since I personally like it best in the summer when I can layer it with all kinds of fresh fruit, I wasn't much troubled by the lack of seasonality until I looked at the calendar and realized that this column appears on the Wednesday before the Fourth of July. Not only is trifle a creature of winter dressed in summer garb, but she is a British creature appearing right before the national holiday celebrating our deliverance from King George III. So allow me to put a patriotic spin on this thing by telling you that historical legend has it that a creamy, custardy, fruit and sherry-filled trifle was the favorite dessert of none other than George Washington. Of course, historical legends can lie even if young George couldn't, but it wouldn't surprise me at all if our first President George was a trifle fan. A little better documented is the trifle fondness of Olive Wendell Holmes (the father, not his also-famous son) — he was effusive about "(T)hat most wonderful object of domestic art called trifle … with its charming confusion of cream and cake and almonds and jam and jelly and wine and cinnamon and froth." Charming confusion, indeed! Of course these gentlemen must have loved a good trifle; trifle is bliss in a bowl. It is all the good things in the dessert world combined — stunningly beautiful, lusciously delicious, and incredibly easy to put together. So, what exactly is a trifle, my husband asked me the other day. "Soaked cake with stuff, right?" he hazarded. I guess it is, in the sense that wine is old squashed grapes, but that hardly tells the whole story. Trifle as a dessert originated in 18th century England, a spin-off of the "fool," which sounds wonderfully whimsical, but probably comes from the French verb "to crush." Fools are mixtures of crushed or pureed fruits and whipped cream. Trifles built on the fool by adding dry cake or lady fingers, brandy or sherry, nuts, and custard. Commonly called Tipsy Cakes in Britain, they lost little time crossing the Atlantic — where under the name of Tipsy Parson for their habit of giving the local preacher a little sherry buzz when he came to call on Sunday afternoons — they charmed Americans, including our first president. Today trifle is still pretty common in the homes of the British, especially at Christmas time. I remember very clearly the first trifle I ever ate. We were in the home of some British friends one winter, eating a really disastrous meal of tough beef and tougher Brussels sprouts, and I greeted the sight of the dessert, all billowy whipped cream and cherries, with relief. I took a huge mouthful and nearly spit it across the table. I realize now that it was probably made according to a fairly typical recipe I recently found on a British Web site —purchased sponge cake, instant custard mix, Jell-O, canned fruit, and buckets of sherry. At the time I felt like a little kid who had been promised a luscious treat, only to have it swapped with nasty medicine at the last minute. Ugh. So today I make a boozeless trifle, heresy to some but altogether lighter, fresher, and more child-friendly. While I have been known to use purchased pound cake or cream cake, (as long as it tastes good, it doesn't matter if it's dry and in fact, trifle cake is supposed to be dry so it can soak up the fruit juices, custard and alcohol if you are using it), I think it really pays to make the rest from scratch. Homemade custard is not difficult as long as you cook it low and slow, and fresh fruit, well, there is no comparison. Typically, trifle is made in a glass bowl (one big one or several smaller goblets) so the layers of ingredients shine through. A bottom layer of cake pieces, spread with jam (the jam can help to intensify the fruits you use, or provide contrast with them) is followed by fruit, topped with custard, and another layer of cake, jam, fruit, and etc. The top is decorated with fruit and the whole thing goes into the refrigerator overnight (or for at least six to eight hours) so the flavors and layers can meld, and it is served with whipped cream. In extreme trifle emergencies, I have skipped the melding stage, but if you are using sherry or liqueurs you really want to give them a chance to soak into the cake, so try to leave it be for as long as it takes. The possibilities for trifle ingredients are limited only by what you like. Peaches and raspberries, apricots and almond, lemon and blueberry (you can layer lemon curd with the cake instead of jam), even banana and coconut. You can flavor the cake (with citrus or almond or chocolate, for instance) and even flavor the custard (think about chocolate pudding or apricot mousse.) And if you make your trifle with loads of strawberries, raspberries and blueberries, and surround them with whipped cream, you can stick a sparkler in it and serve it for the Fourth of July. In all its red, white and blueness, it will be as patriotically American as apple pie. Have a safe, happy and delicious holiday! Red White and
Blueberry Fourth of July Trifle (loosely adapted from James McNair's Custards, Mousses and Puddings, Chronicle Books, 1992) Vanilla bean custard, cooled to room temperature. 8 cups of strawberries, raspberries, and blueberries — 6 cups chopped and 2 cups reserved whole for top. Sugar 1 purchased pound cake or sponge cake, or cake made from your own favorite recipe 1 jar raspberry jam 2 cups of lemon curd, purchased or home made, optional (some people like the tartness this adds, some don't) 1/2 cup sherry, optional Whipped cream Toss the chopped berries with sugar to taste and set aside. Cut the cake into slices about 1/2-inch thick and spread with jam. Fit a layer of slices into the bottom of a large glass bowl. You can also cut the cake into cubes and layer it that way, but try to achieve as solid a cake layer as possible. Sprinkle with a little sherry and spoon on a thin layer of lemon curd if you are using either or both of those ingredients. Spoon on a layer of chopped, sweetened fruit, and cover with a layer of custard. Repeat until all the ingredients are used up, ending with a layer of custard. Refrigerate for 6-8 hours or overnight. Before serving, pile the whole fruit on top of the trifle and pipe whipped cream around the edges. Serve scooped into bowls, with additional whipped cream if you like. Serves eight.
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