Blackberry Mousse
Blackberry/Bramble Mousse is a bit of an early autumn ritual for me.
It comes at a point where I have a satisfyingly full pantry of blackberry-related preserves and I’m aware time is running out to gather in the ‘harvest’.
Tradition has it that the devil was kicked out of Heaven at Michaelmas – and landing on a bramble bush he cursed it. Time has not healed his ire and he repeats the curse annually. My mum had it that the devil spat on them, but there are those who state he urinates … Either way, the fruit is spoiled. I’ll leave it to you as to whether you’re going to observe Michaelmas as it is now (29th September) or ‘old’ Michaelmas (10/11 October). I think the truth is, the best fruit comes picked at the end of a warm day and once there’s been a frost you needn’t bother.
I have my favourite places to go urban-foraging – because all brambles are not the same. Truly. Apparently there are two hundred and fifty odd distinct species and the fruit of some bushes will be sour and some sweet. The fact that they’re all jumbled up in hedgerows makes it not dissimilar to a ‘Harry Potter’s Bertie Bott’s every flavour jelly bean’.
And on the question of whether ‘bramble’ is the shrub and blackberry the fruit, or whether wild ‘brambles’ grow on brambles and blackberries on cultivated plants … Do we care???
For the record, I go ‘brambling’ for ‘blackberries’ which, for me, grow on ‘brambles’. The ones I turn into ‘jelly’ are labelled ‘Bramble and Apple Jelly’ and the ones that go into a fruit laden ‘jam’ are labelled ‘Blackberry Jam’. There seems to be no rhyme or reason for that. I believe I could be swayed either way when it comes to a mousse.
Whatever you call them, a bounteous picking of free fruit is fun. I also like the warm fuzzy feeling I might have stepped into a Jill Barklem ‘Brambly Hedge’ book, the place I know I truly belong.
So, the mousse.
My recipe does contain raw egg, so official UK advice is ‘not for the very young, the elderly, when pregnant or for people with suppressed immunity’. I think the risk is now considerably reduced – and I’m very particular about where I buy my eggs – but Nigel (my living with cancer spouse) is not allowed to eat this when he’s on ‘chemo’.
Give your blackberries a rinse. If you’re worried about any hidden grubs rinse them in salted water and watch the little blighters come to the top. Some years are worse the others I find. Rinse in clear water. Then place the berries in a saucepan, cover, and cook over a low heat for about 5 minutes.
Pass the softened fruit through a sieve. Discard the pips and put the puree on one side to cool. It is entirely possible to freeze the puree at this point and give yourself a winter stash.
Separate the egg into yolks and whites. Put the whites to one side.
Put the four egg yolks into the bowl of your mixer together with the caster sugar. This is the part where you are grateful for electricity. Start whisking. If you don’t have a strong motor mixer, then you’ll need to do it the ‘old fashioned’ way. Lots of elbow grease in a bowl placed over barely simmering water.
Keep going until it’s pale and thick. This is what some recipes call ‘ribboning’. Don’t skimp on this bit. Then add the cream. Lots of recipes suggest you ‘scald’ the cream before adding it to the thickened yolks and sugar, but I think this is a throw-back to when cream wasn’t pasteurised.
Transfer the mixture into a saucepan and stir over a medium heat until the ‘custard’ has thickened slightly.
Strain. It’s worth catching any stray bits of egg.
Stir the blackberry puree into the ‘custard’.
Sieve again. Yes, I know! You can use the same sieve, if it helps. The thing is, you shouldn’t be eating this. It’s sugar and it’s cream, so no hiding the fact this really isn’t good for you. The only reason to be eating Blackberry Mousse is because it gives pleasure – and pleasure is life enhancing.
And the perfect mousse is smooth. Leave to cool.
Place the gelatine sheets into a shallow bowl of cold water. Make sure each leaf is in contact with the water. Swish it about with your hands. They’ll take about 5 minutes to swell – longer is fine but don’t leave them for an indefinite period as they’ll eventually disintegrate to a state that will make them unusable.
Squeeze – and then place in a saucepan.
Over a low heat – melt.
It takes seconds.
Add the blackberry mix to the warm gelatine pan and stir. Transfer to a bowl. Now it’s the egg whites. A pinch of cream of tartar will help stabilise the whites, but this really isn’t essential in this mousse recipe. Salt. Lemon Juice. All do the same job and, for this, you can forget about the whole thing if your cupboard is bare.
You’ll find it easier to incorporate the whisked whites if you add a third first and give it a good beating.
Gently ‘fold’ in the rest – but don’t be fearful, you want to end up with all the egg-whites incorporated. And, that’s it.
Pour into the dishes of your choice. I’ve a childhood attachment to these – which I’ve always thought of as ‘heart’ bowls, but my children tell me are clearly leaves.
Cold cream poured on top is pure heaven. A blackberry puree is lovely. Or you could go for a chantilly cream (that’s sweetened cream with vanilla) quenelle (that’s the spoon thing) which is why you pay more if you order out. Or just a big ‘family’ bowl and dig in.
Blackberry Mousse – makes 1.5 litres
- 450g-ish blackberries, some to decorate is nice
- 100g caster/superfine sugar
- 300ml double cream/heavy cream
- 4 sheets of leaf gelatine
- a pinch of cream of tartar
Rinse the blackberries and put into a saucepan.. Over a low heat, soften. This will take about 5 minutes. Crush the cooked blackberries with the back of a fork and pass through a sieve into a bowl. Use a the back of a wooden spoon to get as much pulp as possible.
Separate the eggs. Put the four egg yolks and the sugar into the bowl of a strong motor mixer and whisk until it is thick and creamy. Add the cream.
Transfer to a saucepan and heat until just below boiling point. Pass through a sieve.
Add to the blackberry pulp and stir. Leave to cool.
Soak the gelatine leaves in cold water for about 5 minutes. Squeeze out all the excess water and place in a clean saucepan. Melt over a low heat and then add the cooled blackberry/custard mix. Stir thoroughly. Place in a bowl.
In a spotlessly clean mixer bowl, whisk the egg whites (with a pinch of cream of tartar) to soft-peak stage. Beat one third into the blackberry mixture to loosen and then gently fold in the remaining two thirds..
Pour into serving dishes – and refrigerate for a few hours until set. Eat.