Join me on a rainy day in the French countryside as we rediscover a forgotten classic: the traditional Almond Blancmange (Blanc-Manger). From its medieval origins to its 19th-century elegance, I’m sharing the recipe and using my favorite antique glass and ironstone molds.
What you'll need for the Blanc Manger:
500ml Whole milk (Lait entier) 100g Almond powder (Poudre d'amandes) — Use blanched for a pure white look. 200ml Heavy cream (Crème entière) 100g White sugar (use less around 60g for less sweeter taste although after the second day the sweetness settled in) 2 tsp Vanilla extract (Extrait de vanille) 3 packets Gelatin (Gélatine en poudre) — Approx. 6g per packet.
BTW - This recipe filled the three vessels as shown in this video so you may want to adjust your amount!
Instructions 1. Infuse the Milk: In a saucepan, combine the milk and the almond powder. Bring it to a gentle simmer over medium heat, then remove from the heat and let it steep for about 10–15 minutes. This draws the natural oils and flavor out of the almonds. 2. Bloom the Gelatin: While the milk steeps, sprinkle your gelatin packets over a small bowl of cold water (check your packet for the specific amount of water needed, usually 2–3 tablespoons) and let it sit for 5 minutes. 3. Strain (Optional): If you want a perfectly smooth, glass-like finish for your vintage moulds, strain the milk through a fine-mesh sieve or cheesecloth to remove the almond solids. If you prefer a rustic, textured look, you can leave the almond powder in. 4. Heat and Dissolve: Return the (strained) milk to the pan. Add the sugar, the crème entière, and the vanilla extract. Heat gently until the sugar is dissolved. 5. Add Gelatin: Remove from heat and stir in the "bloomed" gelatin sponge. Whisk thoroughly until the gelatin is completely melted and the mixture is silky. 6. The Set: Pour the mixture into your glass moulds. Let them cool to room temperature before placing them in the refrigerator for at least 6–8 hours (or overnight).
Are you ready? Oh no, what did I do?
Hello, hello, hello everyone. Thank you for joining us in today's video and for spending the
day with us. It's been mostly dark and rainy days in our part of France, but the weather hasn't
dampened my mood in the least bit. Today, I'm sharing something very special that bridges the
gap between French culinary history and my passion for vintage and antique glass. We are making a
traditional almond blanc manger, and I'm using some specific 19th and early 20th century molds
that I'll share more about these later. But before we begin this recipe journey,
I'd like to share a chance find when I last went thrifting. So just before the year ended,
I felt this urge or this pull to visit Ineos in Lescar, and I'm so glad I did. I went
into the clothing section and I could not believe that I found Chanel. This 100% wool cardigan
with the signature Chanel everything, tags and the buttons. Now, I am not a designer person
any longer. To be fair, when I first moved to Paris, I needed the designer clothes. I had the
Chanel shoes, the Gucci and the bags and Celine and all that. But after moving away from that phase
in my life, and most especially moving here to the countryside, things have got more relaxed as you know.
What I'm preparing today is blanc manger, which literally translates from French to white food.
But don't let the simple name fool you. This dish carries a history as rich as its texture.
It actually began its journey not as a sweet treat, but as a hearty, savory staple of medieval
European courts. Back then it was a curious blend of shredded chicken or fish,
thickened with rice or flour, and sweetened just a touch with almond milk or sugar.
Now, while that might sound like an unusual flavor profile to our modern palates,
in the Middle Ages it was considered delicious and a delicacy.
Because most of the ingredients were refined and expensive, it was reserved strictly for the
nobility or prescribed by physicians as sick room food. It was believed that its pale,
creamy consistency was exceptionally easy on the digestive system. And beyond health,
the white color served as a powerful visual symbol of purity and high social status. So if your table
featured a dish this pristine, it signaled to everyone that you had the means to source
the finest yet most processed ingredients.
As the centuries rolled by and sugar became more accessible, those savory elements,
the chicken and the fish, gradually faded into the history books. And by the 17th and 18th
centuries, blanc manger transformed into the elegant, milk and almond-based jelly that we
recognize today. It was molded into intricate shapes and infused with bright lemon zest,
fragrant orange blossom, or exotic rose water. Today, however, I am leaning into that classic
elegance, keeping the flavors clean and focused. I'll be using vanilla and finely ground almond
to achieve that signature silky, mouthful and subtle nutty depth. Although I take the subtle
back, I think 100 grams of sugar was a little too much, so I'm adjusting the recipe in the
description box. Please let me know if you plan to try this, I would love to know what you thought.
You wanna go shopping, baby? You wanna do a little shopping? We're gonna run off and do some errands
and then wait for these. I'll just put them in the fridge now.
About six to eight hours. You look so cute in your new sweater. She's getting so big, isn't she?
Do you wanna go shopping? You're so cute. Let's go shopping.
Let's get you a little sack. You might have to go make first, blow out the candle.
Let's take these packages first. Come on, let's go bye-bye. You wanna go make first? You can go
over there. Come on, let's go make first. Come on, get in your sack. Good girl, in your sack.
Let's go bye-bye. This basket. I'm here at the Centrecore in the baking aisle and you won't
find any of those molds now. I just realized that I was probably inspired by the molds today because
this is what I chose. That's funny. I don't know what I'm gonna do with these gold ones. I suppose
I could spray paint these or I could have but I don't know. I wanted something a little vintage
looking. So yeah, that looks good. I need some Danny Lyons for the mold. I'm going to go out
in the rain just so I can decorate the molds. I think I know where some are. All right, here we go.
I knew they were out there. All for you. We did it and I want to show you something brilliant
actually. One of the best things about having a puppy is that you can use some of our puppy pads
to help keep your floors clean. Although this area, not so much. I love the small one.
It's pretty cute. I'm very curious about this.
My mouth is actually watering. So the trick is to use a little bit of warm water.
There you go. Tell me what you think this looks like.
The Danny Lyons didn't dry as well as I hoped they would, but they're edible.
Oh, some lemon zest would be really good with it. All right everybody, I approve of this recipe.
Now let's look into the molds starting off with these French glass ones.
If you look closely, you'll see these tiny beautiful air pockets trapped inside.
And in the world of antique glass, these are called seeds or blisters,
which aren't flaws by the way, but they're actually a fantastic sign of age. You see,
before 1950, early furnaces couldn't maintain the intense, consistent heat that needed to
cook out the gases in the molten glass. So those little bubbles are like a thumbprint of history.
Now we have the ironstone. This was the workhorse of the English Victorian kitchen.
Invented in the early 1800s as a more durable, affordable alternative to fine porcelain,
it became the gold standard for jelly molds. And because ironstone is thicker than glass,
it was prized for its ability to keep a dessert chilled while it sat on a grand sideboard.
Though it doesn't have the transparency of glass,
the crisp architectural details it leaves on a bloc manger are just unparalleled. It's heavy,
it's honest, and it feels like a piece of earth. And if you're interested, it's available for you
as well. Good girl. Oh my gosh, does he fit in all the baskets?
