showstopper dessert season

gingerbread and clementine baked alaska

On the almost day-long journey from London to my hometown for Christmas, I spent most of my waking moments thinking about Christmas at my uncle Prince´s house (yes, that’s his real name, and he is as iconic as the singer, in my opinion). It was about the ritual of it all; every year, my family would join him for an elaborate lunch at his immaculate apartment, where he would pop a bottle of champagne as soon as we arrived. After many rounds of bubbles and some of the best food I have ever eaten, he would bring out a carefully sourced Christmas pudding filled with plump dried fruits that had been soaking in booze for months and covered in a thin layer of perfectly snow-white royal icing. It was a good dessert on its own, but with his usual flair, he would turn it into a showstopper. Grabbing a good bottle of brandy from his bar and a box of extra-long matches, he would make a display of flambéing our dessert in a series of elegant movements.

At a dinner last weekend in London, I wanted to recreate some of this magic, so I decided to make a flaming showstopper of my own: Baked Alaskas in individual-sized portions.

I headed to Borough Market hoping to grab the season´s first blood oranges, but I left with an armful of leafy clementines instead. The clementines were less tart than oranges and had very fragrant, thick peels with a ripe, juicy interior, perfect for the parfait I planned to use them in.

A Baked Alaska is traditionally made with layers of cake and ice cream encased in cloudy meringue, which insulates the dessert and keeps its interior from melting while it bakes. I had been dreaming of the gingerbread I learned to make in Le Pavillon last year and wanted to make my own version paired with the bright citrus parfait.

I juiced and zested the clementines and combined them with sugar and egg yolks over a double boiler till it reached around 70C at which point the egg proteins are coagulated.

The mixture was whipped on medium-high speed until light and fluffy (this is called a sabayon) and then folded into soft-peak heavy cream.

The parfait was piped into a dome mould and placed in the freezer while I began working on the gingerbread.

It begins with a mixture of dark date syrup and honey boiled with citrus peels and a mix of spices like cardamom and star anise. This is strained, poured into flour and ground spices, and finished with a stream of brown butter.

The brown, sludgy mixture turned into a beautiful copper bronze in the oven, and the entire apartment smelled like Christmas.

Once cooled, I cut them into circles that fit the dome's base.

I made a fluffy Swiss meringue to cover the dessert with an egg white-to-sugar ratio of 1:1.7. I piped it in a rustic rose pattern and lightly torched it.

A showstopper dessert doesn’t always have to be a 10-foot-tall Croquembouche; it just has to have the right amount of magic— I flambéd this dessert with Grand Marnier, which gave it a citrusy toasted marshmallow flavour and some theatrical effect.

When I did, I received the gasps around the table I hoped for, just like my Uncle Prince does every year.