‘At the end of the meal appeared a rum jelly. This was the Prince’s favourite pudding, and the Princess had been careful to order it early that morning in gratitude for favours granted. It was rather threatening at first sight, shaped like a tower with bastions and battlements and smooth slippery walls impossible to scale, garrisoned by red and green cherries and pistachio nuts; but into its transparent and quivering flanks a spoon plunged with astounding ease. By the time the amber-coloured fortress reached Francesco Paolo, the sixteen-year-old son who was served last, it consisted only of shattered walls and hunks of wobbly rubble. Exhilarated by the aroma of rum and the delicate flavour of the multi-coloured garrison, the Prince enjoyed watching the rapid demolishing of the fortress beneath the assault of his family’s appetite.’
From The Leopard, by Giuseppe Tomasi di Lampedusa (first published as Il Gattopardo, 1958)
The Leopard, the wonderful novel (and later Visconti film) depicting a crumbling Sicilian society in the late 19th century, is corpulent with evocative passages, at least a couple food-related. (Lampedusa’s description of the supper room at the Palazzo Ponteleone ball is even more captivating … but I’ll return to that another day.) The Prince’s rum jelly came to mind when I was studying my latest cookbook purchase – Cucina Siciliana: Authentic Recipes and Culinary Secrets from Sicily, by Clarissa Hyman (Conran Octopus, 2002). The cover features a luscious photo of oozing baked figs with pomegranate seeds and the photographs inside are just as luscious: burdened olive branches; vespas (suggesting dark, handsome young men?) parked next to a grocer’s laden wooden fruit and vegetable crates; wizened old men contemplating the sea; spiky sea urchins in a fish market (and I’ll most definitely return to the subject of sea urchins another day).
But back to the jelly theme: page 95 and there’s a recipe for lemon jelly.
I love a lemon. Give me lemon delicious, lemon meringue, lemon sorbet, lemon cake, lemon posset, lemonade … I’d sell my soul for a lemon. If I were to try and recreate the Prince’s rum jelly I would need more ambition and architectural nous that I have. But Hyman’s Gelo di Limone, which she suggests decorating ‘in true Sicilian style’ with hundreds and thousands, is eminently manageable for even a lazy home cook like me. (Can't stop humming the Italian crooner Paolo Conte's funky number, Gelato Al Limon to myself now.)
NB: My version was tasted by an expert who suggests using less gelatine than Hyman recommends below – perhaps take it back to 15g – and also that you use lemon peel rubbed with sugar (to bring out the lemon oils) rather than lemon zest. If you did that, you would strain the mixture before pouring it into your mould or glasses. I also found that the jelly takes an awfully long time to set – you should make it the day before you want to devour it.
Gelo di limone (Lemon Jelly)
20g leaf gelatine
750ml water
400g sugar
zest of two lemons
250ml fresh lemon juice
2-3tbsp limoncello
lemon slices and leaves or red berries to decorate
Soak the gelatine for 5 minutes in 2-3 tablespoons of the water.
Heat the remaining water and sugar gently until the sugar dissolves. Raise the heat and add the soaked gelatine (squeeze out excess water), stirring until dissolved. The water should be very hot but not boiling.
Remove from the heat, add the lemon zest, juice and limoncello and pour into a wetted mould or – far safer – individual serving glasses that do not require you to turn the jelly out.
Leave to cool, then chill in the fridge for several hours.
Decorate with slices of lemon and leaves, or with some red berries. Serves 4
