“Don’t ever think I fell for you, or fell over you. I didn’t fall in love, I rose in it.” – Toni Morrison, from Jazz.
I talk so much of roses that I also must spit the thorns. “But darling,” she said, “even your sonnets are thorned.” My palate, too. The hue of this rose smothered gelée, ruby-red and blooded, like the jaded heart on a one-dimensional playing card. ‘Queen of Hearts! That’s my title, it’s slicked on my tongue – address me as such.
At some point, I had to create a system to remember all the men in my writings because there were too many of them. I became afraid that I’d forget who was who and who said what and then, did what. An initial, I thought, an initial would be best. The nasty S to signify the slants and slopes and sickness of sex. Or perhaps the O, for the ominous one of my past and whom I still let haunt. Or the W, for the war that he waged inside me. I’d hand you more but then you’d have an alphabet, almost. And I hated seeing their letters and what they stood for. I knew I had to create something. I knew, I had to let go.
But still how I altar fallen roses. I suppose then I am formless. I suppose I inherit all the wounds and arousals of former hearts that I have discarded and who also have discarded me. What I am trying to tell you is - be careful of what you let bloom in your heart. Or, who.
People will tell you not to put too much thought into your cooking wine, that’s a lie. Nuance is never lost, even when tainted by heat. So, I’m going to tell you to think about your rosé. Saignée means to bleed. Where a portion of liquid from a vat of crushed red grapes is removed, bled, and then left to ferment on its own. This extraction strengthens a wine; the hand of man augmenting it to a darkened state of itself. And for this gelée, that’s what I want. I have no patience for Cupid, especially, in my mouth.
But not all rosé is made in the method of saignée. Please, seek one out. I like them best from Pinot Noir but rarer and my forever my darling - Cabernet Franc. I need nuances of wild strawberry and cherry, silk, and slight-anise spice with a backbone of slate that ripples throughout. There’ll be about a glass left after this recipe, a constructed slip. Drink while you cook or if you can wait, eat.
500 g (1.1 pounds) strawberries, 250 g (1 ¼ cups) granulated sugar, a teaspoon of rosewater, 540 ml (2 ¼ cups) rosé wine, 180 ml (3/4 cup) water, 12 g (1 ½ tablespoons) unflavored powdered gelatine
To make the gelée, clean and hull the strawberries then place them into a mixing bowl. Add the sugar and rosewater, then gently toss to coat the fruit in the granules. Cover and set aside to macerate for half an hour. When the fruit has had time to rest, it’ll be even more aromatic, blushing and nuanced. Tip it all into a large heavy saucepan then pour in the rosé and water. Bring to a simmer over medium heat, then, reduce it to low. Continue to cook for a further half hour, until the fruit has slumped, the color bled, and most of the alcohol has been cooked off. Set aside.
Lay a sheath of cheesecloth into a fine-mesh sieve then set it over a large mixing bowl with a pouring spout. Place 3 tablespoons of cold water into a shallow bowl. Sprinkle over the gelatine and allow it to swell and soften, 5 minutes. Meanwhile, set your desired ramekins out. You could use almost anything as a vessel. I like vintage glassware or ceramic bowls – four to six, should do.
Stream the rosé liquid into the mixing bowl, straining through the lined-sieve and resisting any temptation to agitate the backs of the fruit. Let slowly drip, until all of the residual juices have been released then discard the solids. Whisk in the gelatine until well-dissolved then fill your ramekins almost to the top. Transfer to the refrigerator to chill until set. The time it takes will depend on the size of your ramekins, half a day, or better, overnight.
150 ml (2/3 cup) heavy cream, 2 tablespoons of crème fraiche, a teaspoon of granulated sugar, half a teaspoon of vanilla extract
For the chantilly, put the heavy cream, crème fraiche, sugar and vanilla into the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the whisk attachment. Whisk on slow speed until soft peaks have just begun to form. Remove, then with a large rubber spatula give it all a good, few, final twists with the hand to thicken it to stiff but supple peaks.
Spoon over the set gelée and adorn with roses – if you desire.
