Dunedin landmark Larnach Castle has just celebrated 150 years since the building was first started.
Dunedin landmark Larnach Castle has just celebrated 150 years since the building was first started.
Dunedin landmark Larnach Castle has just celebrated 150 years.
The celebration involved a banquet based on what would have been served there – you guessed it – about 150 years ago. In fact it was based on a menu William Larnach ate back in the 1880s.
I suppose you coulddescribe the fare as classical French though "excessive" and "awful" might also be suitable epithets.
Excessive because there were so many courses – consommé, salmon, beef, turkey, ham, boiled fowls, lamb, red wine jelly, to mention just some – and awful because of one of the courses I didn't mention.
I didn't mention it because I feel it should be given its own separate space.
This next paragraph is therefore devoted to lamb brains. The sad news is that the current chef was unable to source any so, according to at least one media report, he substituted – wait for it – lamb sweetbreads. To me that's a little like being told at check-in that your flight has been cancelled but not to worry because they've put you on a bus.
I can't go back 150 years but I can still remember dishes from my childhood which have largely been phased out of everyday cooking because they were … well … unpleasant. I apologise in advance to diehard fans of these items. Go for it!
Wyn Drabble: "I can't go back 150 years but I can still remember dishes from my childhood which have largely been phased out of everyday cooking because they were ... well ... unpleasant."
Tripe. As a child I would wince as my grandfather consumed tripe and onions. He ate it on purpose. I did not know what tripe was and had no interest in finding out.
Blancmange. From memory, this was heated milk thickened with corn flour and made almost palatable by the addition of sugar. But junket was worse. The only thing I knew about it was that rennet was involved but what rennet was I shuddered to think.
Stewed apple and custard was common.
Nothing wrong with a good custard except this version was always made from custard powder. But the worst feature was that the apples often contained "fingernails", those little hard bits which encased the pips. Biting fingernails was rather at odds with enjoying a sweet course.
Still on the custard front there was banana custard. Also seameal custard. In a similar genre were sago and tapioca which I'm not willing to discuss in a family newspaper.
You don't see a lot of swede these days except in fodder troughs. And the root vegetable amalgamation, carrot 'n' parsnip, doesn't seem to be as common as it once was.
If times were tough you might have experienced bread and dripping, a daring combination of starch and fat.
The red wine jellies at the Larnach Castle celebration would have been a little more sophisticated than ours and were made in genuine Victorian jelly moulds. In my childhood, jellies were a) wobbly and b) brightly coloured. The colours seldom matched anything in the natural world.
But, lest I should sound like a gloom merchant, allow me to point out that there were highlights. Apple (or rhubarb) crumble, for example, has survived to this day because it's a winner.
And golden syrup steamed pudding was a weighty joy. Today we don't seem to have the time – or, indeed, the muslin – to make such treats.
Yorkshire pudding was also a treat even though it was really just batter, given flavour by the fat dripping into it from the roasting meat above it in the oven.
So, I'm already planning a 150th commemorative dinner for me and mine.
The menu is a very easy matter requiring very little thought:
Roast beef with Yorkshire pudding and gravy.
Seasonal vegetables.
Apple or rhubarb crumble.
Golden syrup steamed pudding with real vanilla custard and cream.
