Jellies have come down in the world. Once they were created to enchant the eye with their jewel colours and intriguing shapes. Cooks liked to show off their skills by producing exotic jellies for special occasions.

Take Elizabeth Raffald, for example, author of the 1769 book  The Experienced English Housekeeper. She offers many jelly recipes, including four for jellies made to look like islands, one complete with animals; two for jelly hens with chicks and two for moon and stars jellies.

She also has recipes for a jelly made to look like bacon and eggs, another like playing cards, yet another in the shape of Solomon’s Temple and three recipes for fish pond jellies. In her Solomon’s Temple instructions she writes: “Wet your temple mould,” clearly assuming her readers might have this utensil in their kitchens!

Indeed, the kitchens of stately homes often display a vast armoury of moulds. At the Wobblicious Jelly Festival held at Brodsworth Hall near Doncaster in 2008, visitors could see a mid-19th-century tiered cone jelly – reminiscent of Madonna’s famous pointy bra. Cassell’s Dictionary of Cookery included instructions for making balls of jelly of different colours and suspending them in clear jelly. Another suggestion was to scoop out oranges, fill them with orange jelly and when set, slice them in wedges for serving.

Cooks loved playing with gelatine because, given moulds and patience, it could take so many forms and colours. But until the 20th century, they had to start by making their own gelatine. Essentially, gelatine comes from the connective tissue of animals (agar or agar agar is a vegetarian gelatinous substance derived from seaweed).

In 1660  The Accomplish’t Cook  gave as the simplest source: “three pair calves’ feet”. Alternatively, the cook could go for “An old cock and a knuckle of veal” or “jelly of hogs’ feet, ears and snouts” or “one pair calves’ feet, a well-fleshed capon, and half-a-pound of hartshorn or isinglass”. (Hartshorn was antler shavings, while isinglass comes from the swimbladders of fish.)

Whatever the source, making gelatine required a lot of work. Antlers had to be grated and boiled. Calves’ feet and pig’s trotters had to be boned, boiled and skimmed. It had to be boiled a second time with beaten egg whites and shells to collect impurities and then passed through a jelly bag – often several times – to clarify it.

Jelly was often served to invalids because it was nutritious and easy to swallow. One recipe “for a Consumption” required isinglass and hartshorn, plus dates, sugar, fi gs, prunes, cinnamon, ginger, mace, cloves, nutmeg “and also a little stick of liquorish”.

For aspic, gelatine was mixed with savoury stock and used to coat meat or delicate hors d’oeuvres. For puddings, cooks had to make colourings – cochineal with brandy for red, soaked saffron for yellow, boiled and squeezed spinach for green and syrup of violets for blue.

In the early 20th century, when powdered gelatine, leaf gelatine and, most importantly, packaged table jellies were invented, jellies became one of the easiest things to make and lost their prestige.

Yet jelly is, as it always was, a stimulant to the cook’s imagination, and nothing, not even ice-cream, is more refreshing on a hot day. Jellied confections of vegetables and fish make perfect first courses. Aspics retain their classic elegance.

And for desserts, jellies can range from a simple but delicious jelly made with fruit juice, to a sophisticated bavarois of flavoured custard, gelatine and whipped cream.

Before you start…

It is worth noting that typically a 15g (½oz) packet of powdered gelatine will set 600ml (1 pint) liquid, but check the packet, as different brands of gelatine vary. If you want to set pieces of fruit in jelly, reduce the liquid a little so the finished jelly is firm enough to hold the pieces in suspension.

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