I was doing some reading the other day and, no, not an Agatha Christie, even though I am about half way through Hercule Poirot’s Christmas for the next Dining with The Dame. I was reading some poetry (because in my head I am the cool intellectual girl who reads untranslated French poetry whilst drinking black coffee at a cool café in the hippest arrondissement in Paris).
In reality I was likely lying on my couch in dirty sweatpants, shoving salt and vinegar chips into my face. Regardless of the setting though, whilst I was reading came I across a poem by Edith Sitwell called “When Sir Beelzebub” The opening lines of which are
When Sir Beelzebub called for his syllabub in the hotel in Hell Where Proserpine first fell, Blue as the gendarmerie were the waves of the sea,
Which got me thinking…why aren’t there more poems about dessert? And why have I never made a syllabub? I’m still waiting for an answer on the first question. But as for the second?
No trip to hell required!
What is Syllabub?
Syllabub is a gorgeous British dessert which originated in the 16th century. It is a whipped cream dessert, originally flavoured with sweet wine or cider. My version uses rosé as the wine and pairs the rosé flavoured cream with a rhubarb and rosewater compote.
I really like the word syllabub. It sounds so slinky and smooth. But with a hint of bite with that last b. Which pretty much describes the syllabub. The silky smooth cream has a little kick of rosé and the rhubarb compote is tangy with hints of orange and rose. Layer it into your prettiest vintage glasses so you can see the contrast of the cream against deep crimson rhubarb.
It also looks very pretty when you put your spoon in and the layers get all mixed up and marbled. Maybe I have been reading too many Agatha Christie’s but my first thought was a rather macabre “like blood in the snow”! 😂 I could totally imagine Miss Marple eatiing syllabub too!
Rhubarb and Rosé Syllabub
A delightful English dessert of poached rhubarb with a rosé flavoured cream.
Ingredients
For the Rhubarb Compote:
- 500g of rhubarb, cut into bit sized pieces
- 100g caster sugar
- Juice and Zest of 1 orange
- 1/2–1 tsp rosewater
For The Cream:
- 175g rosé wine
- 80g caster sugar
- 200ml whipping cream
Garmish:
- Strawberries (optional)
- Flaked Almonds (optional)
Instructions
For the Compote:
- Place rhubarb, sugar, orange juice and zest into a saucepan.
- Add rosewater to taste (please see note below).
- Cook over medium heat until the rhubarb is soft but is keeping it’s shape. If the mixture starts to stick you can add a tablespoon or so of water but you don’t want the rhubarb mixture to be too wet.
- Allow to cool
For the Cream
- Add the rosé and sugar to a small saucepan and bring to the boil, over a high heat stirring occasionally. Reduce the heat and allow the mix to reduce by a third.
- Allow to cool.
- Whip the cream to stiff peaks.
- Fold in the rose mixture.
- Layer the rhubarb and cream mixtures into a glass.
- Top with a strawberry and some flaked almonds for crunch!
Notes
Rosewater can be overpowering. Start with half a teaspoon before cooking the rhubarb and add more after cooking if you want to boost the flavour.
A Very Brief Side Note on Edith Sitwell
Edith Sitwell, the writer of “When Sir Beelzebub” was a fascinating woman. Six foot tall, she had a distinctive dress style – turbans and the most amazing jewellery. She was also an innovative poet. One of her poems, Gold Coast Customs was written in jazz rhythms and she wrote a wrote poems to music in a show called Facade which was performed behind a curtain pained with a face. The words were read through a megaphone via a hole in the mouth. (This to me sounds very Mighty Booshy…I wonder if they might have been inspired by her. 
She was also not one to mince words and had some scathing things to say about people including the critic F.R Leavis (For those fans of Bridget Jones out there Yes, “the F.R. Leavis who died in 1978.”) whom she called a “a tiresome, whining, pettyfogging little pipsqueak”. She also called D.H. Lawrence a “a plaster gnome on a stone toadstool in some suburban garden”. So in 1953, some bright spark had the idea for Dame Sitwell to interview Marilyn Monroe, assuming, oif course that they would hate each other and the Sitwell’s scathing critique of Monroe would create a commotion and of course increase circulation!
I’m sure, much to the chagrin of a features editor, the two liked each other!
The meeting between the two occurred in the Sunset Tower in Hollywood which is certainly not a hotel in hell! I wonder if they might have eaten some syllabub!
Have a great week!
