It would appear that other, unnamed, firms were forced to cheat – the
little purple decorations on the top of their
violet creams being crystallised lavender “Though
to be frank, it’s all so small and sugary it’s a bit difficult to
tell…” he admits.
Sally Clark, owner of Clarke’s Delicatessen in Kensington Church
Street , has experienced similar supply problems. One
of her products is the much coveted violet liqueur, which comes in delicately hand-painted
bottles and is used as a vermouth substitute in trendy cocktails, and then there are the
delightful violet lollipops which, when she can get them, “just fly out of the
door.”
A turbulent past
The violet has had a turbulent
life for such an unassuming little flower. In Roman mythology Venus, jealous of a group of
beautiful maidens when Cupid could not deny they were lovelier than her, beat the girls
until they were black and blue before turning them into shrinking woodland flowers. And
spare a thought for cult-worshippers following-in-kind the even more gruesome legend of
minor god Attis castrating himself, his shed blood turning to violets.
Voilets were the national flower of Athens . Persephone was gathering
them when she was abducted to the underworld. The Greeks strew violets on graves, a custom
continued “for remembrance” through the Middle Ages and beyond – Napoleon
covered Josephine’s coffin with them. And
they remain a common theme in sympathy cards today.
Inevitably, they became a flower of ill-omen - portents of epidemic or
death. And though it is said that wearing violets around your neck will prevent
drunkenness (not a recommended precaution on its own) they will also apparently encourage
fleas into the home.
By the Renaissance violets were getting a better press
–
“When daisies pied, and
violets blue,
And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue,
And Lady-smocks all silver-white,
Do paint the meadows with delight” waxed Shakespeare in “Loves Labours
Lost.” “Violet is for faithfulnesse, which in me shall abide,” warbled the
popular songbook “A Handfull of Pleasant Delites” in 1566.
Not so humble
The
19th century saw the zenith of the humble violet. “The sweetness of the violet's deep
blue eyes, Kissed by the breath of heaven, seems color'd by its skies,” wrote Byron,
and in the complex Victorian language of flowers, blue blossoms said
“faithfulness”; white represented “modesty,” and yellow, “rural
happiness.”
Variously
known as “Johnny Jump Up,” “Bird Foot” and “Hens and
Roosters,” the violet gradually acquired softer connotations as flowers to be
gathered by children to deck maypoles, string for garlands and wear as crowns. A potpourri
made from violets was said to cure sorrow and foster romantic love. By the mid-20th
century, violets were celebrated rather than reviled - the Provençal village of Tourettes
sur Loup rejoice in the nickname "Cité des
Violettes," based on their biggest export.
Medieval
monastery gardens grew violets to
protect against evil spirits. Folk remedies had
violets cure everything from headaches to tumours and 17th century herbalist
Thomas Culpeper used them to “cool any heat or distemperature of the body either
inwardly or outwardly.” Violets have been used in holistic treatments for cancer, and their
qualities are being seriously researched as possible remedies for rheumatism, cystitis and
stress.
Fashionable food
Both the flowers and the leaves
of violets are edible, and they are also high in vitamins – the leaves are allegedly
higher in vitamin C than any other domestic green vegetable, and also contain vitamin A.
In the fourteenth century violets
were ground with rice pudding, flavoured with almonds and served with cream. In France ,
after the revolution they were used to garnish meat dishes.
Veal and violet wafers dressed with a lemon balm sauce were served as appetisers at
Victorian banquets, their delicate taste said to compliment stronger flavours such as
melon, apricots and cream cheese.
Today’s chefs are
rediscovering this tradition, using violets as a garnish and for flavouring. If you see violet petals on the plate, remember
they’re not just for show. You can eat them
too.
The real home of violet cuisine is in sweets. Bill Keeling is
“consistently amazed” at the demand for violet creams, until recently regarded
as “a little kitsch.” “But kitsch is fashionable now and we’ve noticed
the age profile of our customers has gone right down,” says Keeling. “They are
our biggest selling chocolate by a long way. We order 30% more each year but we still run
out.”
Prestat started making violet creams in the early 20th century.
Actress Sarah Bernhardt insisted on having the chocolate inside her sweets, but finally settled down to
little fondant creams lightly flavoured with violet, hand-dipped in dark chocolate. They
start life very soft, and gradually become harder as they dry out. Opinion is divided as
to the optimum time for consumption. For Keeling, it is somewhere between the two stages
– “firm, but with a little tongue of gooey softness in the centre.”
The practicalities of violet
cookery may partially explain why commercial products are so rare. An old American recipe
for violet sugar involves mincing six cups of fresh violet petals, pounding the result
with three cups of granulated sugar and leaving in a cool place for at least a week before
using. It has been calculated that one cup holds approximately 200 violet petals –
requiring 1,200 blossoms for each batch of sugar. No
wonder they are in short supply.
 Violet liqueurs and lollipops from Sally Clarke at
www.sallyclarke.com
Prestat’s Violet Creams
can be found at www.prestat.co.uk
A version of this feature first appeared in The Times
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