RedHeadedGirl’s Historical Kitchen: Ratafia

Last month we went through a process that I’ve been doing for years, working from a manuscript I’ve been playing with for years, and cooking a cuisine that I’ve become familiar with over those years. This month is completely different.

One of the things you see come up regularly in Regency-era historicals is balls. One of the things that people drink some of at these balls is ratafia. It’s a drink, you drink it, but what is it? It’s not an easy question to answer. Most authors just don’t- which is fine- people are drinking it in appropriate contexts. That’s the important part, but for the obsessive nerds like me, there are always questions.

Lost in Temptation
A | K | AB
One author who did start to answer this question is Lauren Royal, in Lost in Temptation. The book is framed around a family book of recipes, and the first one mentioned is Ratafia Puffs, which the heroine and her sisters are making (because the family legend is that if a woman makes the ratafia puffs and serves them to her intended, he will propose very quickly).

Royal gives her recipe: “Take a halfe pound of Ground Almonds and a little more than that of Sugar. Make it up in a stiff paste with the Whites of Five Eggs and a little essence of Almonds whipt to a Froth. Beat it all well in a Mortar, and make it up in little Loaves, the bake them in a very cool oven on paper and Tin Plates.”

She doesn’t give a source that she used for this recipe in the book. I asked her on Twitter, and she said that she has a large collection of antique cookery books, but couldn’t remember specifically which ones she used. A search on Google Books gives me several possibilities, but suffice to say that the recipes she puts in Lost in Temptation are real Regency/Georgian era recipes, and EVEN BETTER, when people are making those recipes, they are using the proper techniques. Loaf sugar, and whipping eggs whites by hand and basically it’s a perfect use of resources and food research. It made me hungry, and I can’t give a better compliment than that.

A bottle of ratafia, which is a dark dark red brown in a curvy bottle with ridges running top to bottom
Ratafia – Source: Wikimedia commons

During the scene where the puffs are being made, one of the sisters asks, “Why are they called ratafia puffs if there’s no ratafia in them?”

Excellent question.

The answer in the book is, “I expect they’re called ratafia puffs because they taste of almonds like ratafia does.”

So you may remember Katrina in the comments of the podcast I was on talking about historical cooking, pointing out that one does make ratafia, one buys it, because, “It’s made from the second press of grapes when you are creating marc de champagne (which is brandy made from champagne grapes).” That is one definition, but there are others, which is a thing that happens as language evolves. Language is polygamous in its definitions. Tricksy language.

The Oxford Companion to Food
A | K | AB
We begin as we often begin, by breaking into the Oxford Companion to Food. The word “ratafia” is derived from the Latin phrase “Res rata fiat” which is a phrase used when treaties are ratified. Tradition demands that such a ratification must be marked by drinking booze, ideally good booze, and “the phrase, abbreviated, became a name for such a liquor.”

There are then three definitions:

  • a drink popular in the 17th and 18th centuries…It was a cordial or brandy-based liqueur flavored with almonds, peach, cherry, apricot kernels, or soft fruits; similar to Noyau, a word which came into use in the late 18th century and largely supplanted ratafia.
  • An 18th and 19th century variation on the macaroon, flavored with bitter almonds…These seem to have first been made in England in the early 18th century with recipes very similar to macaroons, and used similarly; ratafia biscuits may have acquired the name because they were eaten with the drink ratafia or because of the use of bitter almonds as a flavoring in both items.
  • The word is also used to describe a bitter almond flavor.

The champagne question is addressed in the Oxford Companion to Wine: drying grapes to a raisin-like state, then moistening them and fermenting them in the spring.

Food and Drink in Britain From the Stone Age to the 19th Century by C. Anne Wilson ( A ) simply says that the 18th century ratafia was brandy flavored with almonds or apricot kernels.

So… great. We have options on what this could mean. We’re not a lot closer to answering the question.

I was not able to find out when the production of ratafia de champagne began. I tried, guys. Nor was I able to get any to drink, for research purposes. Dude!Roommate works a very high end wine store, and his special orders guy wasn’t able to score me any, which means there’s no or extremely limited distribution in Massachusetts, and that made me very sad. I WAS LOOKING FORWARD TO TRYING IT.

But we’re not done. Back to Google books!

The great thing about Google Books is there are many period cookbooks that are scanned in. Some of them have the full text, and some don’t, and some will tease you with bits of screen caps and no way to get the full text, but it’s a GREAT resource if you’re limited on money and shelf space. (Shelf space I can work with. Money? That’s another issue.)

So:

I found an 1809 book titled Valuable Secrets of Arts, Trades, Etc Selected From the Best Authors and Adapted to the Situation of the United States ( A ). (You know those websites that curate original content and repost them? That is nothing new, it’s just a lot faster now.)

Anyway, “Ratafia is a liquor in great esteem, and most persons are acquainted with it; though the true method of making it is known only to a few.” That’s not helpful.

“There are various kinds of ratafia made from different fruits.”

What follows is an exhaustive discourse on what fruits are best (cherries, gooseberries, mulberries, etc.) and when it is best to pick them for the purposes of making ratafia. Then there are several pages of recipes that involve bruising the fruit, and soaking it in brandy with sugar. The recipes differ primarily in the proportions, and some specific instructions for specific fruits. For an orange ratafia, you use orange juice and the peels of the orange, but not the pulp or the meat – pulp adds a bitterness you don’t want, trust me. The meat is just something you need to strain out, and an orange is easy to juice.

There’s an 1864 edition of Cooley’s Cyclopaedia of Practical Receipts (this is marked as the 6th edition- I could not find earlier editions), which has recipes for pretty much everything under the sun. This book first defines ratafia as a “common generic name in France of liqueurs compounded of spirit, sugar, and the odoriferous and flavouring principles of vegetables, more particularly of those containing the juices of recent fruits, or the kernels of apricots, cherries, or peaches. In its unqualified sense, this name is commonly understood as referring to cherry-brandy or peach-brandy. Ratafias are prepared by distillations, maceration, or extemporaneous admixture, in the manner explained under the head liqueur.”

What follows is a significant list of recipes for various cordials and liqueurs. One example is Ratafia de noyau: “From peach or apricot kernels (bruised) 120 in no., proof spirit or brandy, 2 quarts; white sugar, 1 lb.; digest for a week, press, and filter.”

The “kernels” are the kernels that are in the pits of stone fruits (like peaches or apricots), bruised means to beat them a bit. If you have cyanide concerns… that’s legit. This blog post from thekitchn.com discusses the cyanide issues, which mostly come down to: you need to eat a LOT (like 2-10 pits a day) to be worried about cyanide poisoning, but her research found that roasting the pits would remove the acid that causes the cyanide.

So you take your bruised kernels, throw them into a bottle with a bunch of brandy and a bunch of sugar, and forget about it for a while, much the same as the directions given in the 1809 book. I’ve made fruit cordials before with a similar method- take a bunch of fruit, and sugar, and fill the rest of the bottle with vodka. Let it sit for a month or two, then decant it, and bottle it and let it age some more, because when you use cheap vodka that shit is HARSH and letting age with more sugar just makes it strong and smooooooth. You ain’t drinking this by the glass, by the way- this is by the tiniest sipper or a shot glass.

But does that answer our initial question?

The almond flavor liqueur does match with what Royal found with the recipe for ratafia puffs. The idea that it could refer to peach brandy sounds great (and tasty). The ratafia de champagne makes sense for serving masses, but we don’t know when that started being a thing, nor when imports to England began. The primary sources seem to nudge towards the liqueur answer, so I’m inclined to go with that interpretation.

Someday, though, I’ll get me some ratafia de champagne, and I’ll let you know how it is.

Comments are Closed

  1. Turophile says:

    Not sure how historically accurate it is, but Alexis Bailly Vineyard near Hastings Minnesota has been making ratafia for over a decade, probably two. Go here http://www.abvwines.com/our_wines.html and search under reds.
    The vineyard is beautiful – it’s worth a trip if in the area.

  2. Kelly S. says:

    It reminds me of sangria in our time, except brandy vs. wine, but similar concept. A term we all currently understand to mean an alcoholic beverage pressed from grapes with added fruit. And there are 100’s of different recipes to make this item we all know to be that 1 thing.

  3. Elinor Aspen says:

    Thanks for the tip, Turophile. I’ll have to look for it when I’m in Minnesota later this month. The monks of Montserrat in Catalonia still make ratafia, but I suspect the cost of shipping to the U.S. would be prohibitive. The English translation on their website is amusingly awkward. http://botiga.montserratvisita.com/producte.php?cp=10&prod=75&idm=3

  4. chacha1 says:

    I always imagined ratafia as a sort of fruity liqueur, but the almond factor is new. Makes sense. It’s generally presented as a sweet drink (i.e. for ladies) more than a gentleman’s (in the late Georgian and Regency periods gentlemen were apparently all about the claret, which was at that time not much like the red wines we drink today, when in company with ladies).

    And given the context it was clear ratafia was not something that people got a big glass of and then stood around swigging. It’s a tiny intoxicating refreshment in between dances, or sessions at a musicale.

    And easy to make! Hmmm I have an ancient bottle of Armagnac … .

  5. Barb in Maryland says:

    I can’t remember when (or how) I learned about how alcoholic ratafia is. I do know I was amused that it was considered a drink suitable for ladies; I suspect because the fruit flavor disguised how potent it could be!

  6. chamekke says:

    Why are they called ratafia puffs if there’s no ratafia in them?

    Royal’s answer sounds like the right one, but my first thought was that maybe they were eaten while drinking ratafia. My family’s recipes for coffee cake never included coffee; it was called that because you’d drink coffee as an accompaniment to the cake.

  7. Moviemavengal says:

    I always thought it was some kind of punch! Thanks so much for this article. Really, really interesting.

  8. Jazzlet says:

    That makes it sound very much like a version of the fruit liquers such as cassis and framboise. The bitterness of the stone nuts should balance out the sugar nicely, sounds delicious!

  9. “The book is framed around a family book of recipes”

    Sounds like I need to read Lauren Royal’s Lost in Temptation immediately, and OH, LOOK! It’s free right now!

  10. Heather says:

    I have an old cookery book which describes all sorts of ratafia as booze flavoured with fruit (‘booze’, in that context, normally being a kind of spirit distilled from the leftover grapes from the wine).

    Incidentally, while apricot kernels taste very nice, they do contain a very small dose of cyanide when they’re raw. You can eat one or two safely, but don’t go crazy 😉 Or if you really like them, you can make them into amaretti biscuits, as cooking appears to make them harmless.

  11. KLM says:

    Is ratafia de champagne a measure of the liquor added to champagne? Cause that sounds super drinkable, and the lack of source may mean it isnt a thing you source, maybe you just make it, by the glass or the punchbowl full.

  12. I’ve always wanted to try ratafia despite the fact that the gentlemen in Heyer’s novels disdained it. Something that interested me about this research is that it is clearly brandy based and yet brandy was a beverage ladies were not supposed to drink. I guess this was the socially acceptable alternative. Thanks for the research. I ***love*** vintage cookbooks. Read them as if they were novels.

  13. Mary says:

    @KLM it might mean that the alcohol base is made with traditionally Champagne grapes. I could definitely get behind some sparkling wine/ratafia hybrid as well! I wonder if some permutations tasted like amaretto.

  14. Kelly says:

    Thank you for the research! I’ve always wondered what this drink was. I always mentally put it in the wine category, but something like a cordial makes more sense in the lightheadedness (and interesting decision making) it seemingly causes without fail! A cross between a high-end jungle juice and the cherry bounce from Outlander, perhaps? Or maybe mixed into a spiked punch, since some people have glasses of it. The idea of macarons with it intrigues me, but probably because regular macarons and I are in a I hate you-hate you-maybe I will love you trope right now. Knowing that historical women can make these things without a kitchen aid mixer only fuels me more!

  15. Faellie says:

    That recipe for ratafia puffs is almost exactly the recipe for macaroons that I inherited from my aunt. I’ve only found handwritten versions in amongst her cookery books, so it could have come from almost anywhere (she was a professional housekeeper to the wealthy in the 1930s). It is a very simple recipe and makes delicious macaroons. The engagement thing may have worked for my aunt, but not for me yet.

    I strongly suspect on the ratafia question that it is a case of “this is a drink which has never gone away, just the name has changed”. If I am right about that, then using an almond liqueur (Amaretto) and substituting it for crème de cassis would presumably turn a kir royale into a “ratafia de champagne”.

  16. Susan says:

    I had looked ratafia up in the dictionary some years ago. The definition was a bit vague but I decided it was somewhat like Amaretto and moved on.

    I just now looked it up on Amazon to see what would pop up. They sell ratafia biscuits, which are basically almond macarons. There is also a liqueur recipe book which sells for just 99c.

    http://smile.amazon.com/Delicious-Homemade-Liqueur-Cordials-Ratafias-ebook/dp/B00DGBOM2C/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1438496691&sr=8-1&keywords=ratafia

    (Hope that link shows up properly.)

    Amazon didn’t have any of the actual alcoholic beverage for sale, although there were other online sources. Oddly, the two US sources I looked at sold fruit-flavored (citrus) versions.

  17. Persnickety says:

    Sticks winery in Victoria (Yarra valley I think) did a ratafia a couple of years ago. It must have been a very short run- the labels were printed tags tied on with twine- and I have never seen it in bottle shops, or on their online shop. We picked it up at the winery in early 2014

    It was a sticky fortified wine (ah the lovely wine terms used) kind of like sherry or port. Sherry was often a ladies drink and I think this might fit into that. My husband did not like it, he usually likes fortifieds. The empty bottle sat on my kitchen counter for 6 months, waiting for me to send an email to SB

  18. Katrina says:

    This is so cool!
    Ratafia de champagne was lovely–sort of sweet and pink (because it’s made from the skins and seeds and there must be something in it with a bit of red grape then). Imagine a light kir (white wine and a splash of crème de cassis (blackcurrant cordial just alcoholic)) made with a sweetish wine. It was a bit overpowering drunk at room temperature, but glorious as an apéritif in a tiny glass chilled.
    I am fascinated to see that it was originally a kind of punch–and doubt the ladylikeness has much to do with alcohol and everything to do with the association between red wine (and therefore fortified red wines like port) and virility. Don’t want ladies getting too much testosterone (or choler, or whatever they called it then!)

  19. Emily G says:

    I once toured a small grower level Champagne producer’s cellar in Champagne with some other wine students and this is pretty much what he was making in his cellar. It was delightfully lethal, sticky, sweet and boozy. He sold some of it but said most wasn’t exported and a fair amount went for personal use.

  20. Rachel L says:

    I just looked for Lost in Temptation because of this post, and I saw it’s currently free on Amazon and Google Play. I thought I’d let everyone know.

  21. Karin says:

    I also kind of assumed ratafia was a sort of fruit punch, not highly intoxicating.
    I remember my grandmother giving me a couple of peach or apricot kernels to eat when I was a child, she ate them herself too. Who knew about cyanide? The ratafia puffs are pretty much identical to a meringue Christmas cookie my mother made. Her recipe came from The Settlement Cookbook, which I still have, and it has another recipe using ground almonds or hazelnuts, but the egg yolks instead of whites. She always made both types of cookies together so nothing went to waste.

  22. If you read some of the Georgette Heyer novels, I forget which ones, elderly ladies clearly over indulge on the ratafia and become tipsy. Heyer did meticulous research, according to her authorized biographer.

  23. Vasha says:

    I only knew ratafia from the song “Unfortunate Miss Bailey”:

    A captain bold in Halifax, who dwelt in country quarters,
    seduced a maid who hung herself one Monday in her garters.
    His wicked conscience smitted him. He lost his stomach daily.
    He took to drinking ratafia and tho’t upon Miss Bailey.

    From this I had assumed, inaccurately, that ratafia was equivalent to rotgut; but I guess if you want to get blind dtunk but don’t like the taste of alcohol, something sweet and fruity is the way to go.

  24. denise says:

    Time for a party–it’s five o’clock somewhere!

  25. MS says:

    I’m mostly a reader, but I had to comment today. I’m an academic librarian and I work with some culinary history classes, and was wondering if you’ve every used hathitrust.org? Cleaner scanned books and with actual metadata about publication date, language, etc. Out of copyright materials are full-view and you can do a full-text search OR a catalog search, which makes my librarian heart happy. Loads of results for ratafia. 🙂

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