Right now, London is having a jelly moment. The wobbly dessert we all knew and loved as children is turning up on all the best menus, but it’s suddenly become terribly sophisticated. Jelly with green tea, anyone?

At the Taste of London in Regent’s Park, a litmus test for the capital’s restaurant scene, every fifth dessert was a variation on jelly. Greenhouse coupled strawberries with water chestnut jelly and something called momosa espuma (see below), while the National Dining Room had strawberry and basil jelly with ice cream, and Umu offered green tea and grapefruit jelly. As well as all this, there were no less than two versions of strawberry and Champagne jelly - and they were completely different.

Inn the Park combined Champagne jelly with strawberries and Jersey cream on a meringue base. The jelly was translucent gold with a subtle hint of tartness, partnered with thick cream, in a modern incarnation of trifle. It was mid June and the English strawberries sang with seasonal sweetness. By contrast, the Champagne jelly made by Pearl was so potent, it conjured up memories of downing jelly vodka shots at my 21st birthday. The sharpness was barely softened with custard and almond crumble and as if to underscore the point, the dessert came served in a shot glass.

I have a soft spot for jelly the old-fashioned way, which to me means 1980s packet jelly made in a ridged mould. I can’t say I enjoy the flavour any more but it always brings back happy memories. When I was a child jelly came in traffic-light flavours - red, orange and green and we all knew the words to the Aeroplane jelly TV jingle (the link is to the 1940s version of the ad). We kids were adamant that red jelly had the best flavour, the same as red jelly beans and red snakes. Our mothers thought the red food colouring made us misbehave but we knew it was just a good excuse. Later we graduated to blackcurrant jelly, just like red, but dark and a bit more grown up. Orange was okay, but we hated the lurid lime green variety. Anything green was a bit suspect and it tasted like grass cuttings. We still ate it though - jelly was jelly, after all. It was a double score if it came with vanilla ice cream, which we’d mash it up so the cream would coat the jelly.

I love trying new flavour combinations when I’m out but if I’m cooking at home I enjoy recreating the classics. I do like a good trifle made old style with jelly and that most retro of drinks, sherry. My grandmother made lovely fluffy sponge cake but if I’m pressed for time, a good quality shop-bought cake will do the trick. If I have to choose, I would rather spend the extra time making creamy, eggy custard, infused with vanilla. I layer the cake, jelly and custard with berries and a good quality whipped cream.

NB It’s taken a bit of sleuthing to figure out what ‘momosa espuma’ is. It’s not in the 1,350-page cookery encyclopaedia Larousse Gastronomique and I couldn’t find a complete explanation on Google. ‘Momosa’ could either be this drink or perhaps a typo for ‘mimosa’, which is either edible yellow flowers or sieved hard-boiled egg yolk, according to Larousse Gastronomique. ‘Espuma’ is apparently Spanish for foam, though prepared slightly differently to the French method.

Orange Flummerie

(Serves 4-6)

If you are feeling adventurous, but don’t want to replicate some of the more exotic jelly dishes on restaurant menus, try this fantastic creamy orange jelly invented by my aunt Frances, who runs organic gardening supplies business Green Harvest. Use lemon jelly crystals as orange jelly can be too sweet or if you are confident you can substitute gelatine or, for a vegetarian option, use agar agar.

Frances has been making this dessert since I was in primary school and we kids christened it ‘orange flummerie’. A crowd pleaser for all generations, the citrus flavours are cut with cream, while yogurt adds a slight sour note to stop the dessert becoming cloyingly sweet. You have to keep a watchful eye on the jelly to make sure you add the cream before it fully sets.

Ingredients

Lemon jelly crystals, 2 packets
Boiling water
Two oranges
Cointreau, 1 tbs (optional)
Natural yogurt, small tub (200g)
Cream, small tub (200g)
To serve: Dark chocolate (optional)
Coconut strands (optional)

Method

Prepare the jelly according to the instructions but substitute half the boiling water for freshly squeezed orange juice. You can add more juice and less water if you like but you do need some boiling water to dissolve the jelly crystals. If you are making the dessert for adults, you can also add a tablespoon of cointreau. Orange zest is also a great idea for more flavour but Frances warns that you should do this only if you are using organic fruit. (Apparently withholding periods for using pesticides on citrus fruit tend to be shorter because they assume people do not eat the skin).

When cool, poor the jelly liquid into a serving bowl and refrigerate. Meanwhile, whip the cream until soft peaks form.

After about 45 minutes, when the jelly is half set, remove it from the fridge, stir in the natural yogurt and gently fold in the whipped cream. Return to the fridge to set firmly; this will take two to three hours.

Serving

My suggested topping is a round of orange and shavings of dark chocolate. Alternatively, Frances suggests toasted coconut strands.

Larousse Gastronomique, the French cookery encyclopaedia, defines a ‘fool’ as ‘a chilled dessert of English origin, made of fruit purée strained through a fine sieve, sweetened and chilled (but not frozen). Just before serving, the purée is mixed with twice its volume of whipped cream’.

And that is all it has to say about what I believe is one of the great English puddings. (Some of the French desserts have several pages and photographs). Let Fool be an unsung hero no more! Although I can’t do this on my own, I can share a recipe and let you try it for yourselves. And of course, I’ve named the site after it!

Even the two sentences allotted to it in Larousse are not entirely correct in my opinion. Firstly, I see no reason why the fruit has to be strained through a sieve - I think the interplay of textures is quite lovely. Secondly, it can be made with custard instead of cream, or perhaps a mix of both.

Technically you can make Fool with any fruit but I like it best with slightly tart fruits, such as gooseberries (of course), rhubarb or red or black curants.

Gooseberry Fool

(Serves 4)

Gooseberries are a quintessentially English fruit, in season for just three or four weeks in the early summer. The plump, pale green berries are best cooked simply with a little sugar. The slight tartness of the cooked fruit is lovely cut with cream (or custard if you prefer) for a summer treat.

Ingredients

2 punnets gooseberries
4-6 tablespoons white sugar
300ml (1/2 pint) double cream
Ginger snaps or almond biscotti (optional)

Method

Top and tail the gooseberries with thumb and forefinger, discarding any brown ones. Rinse thoroughly and put in a good size pot with a dash hot water. Add three tablespoons of sugar and stir.

Cover the pot and cook on a gentle heat until the berries start to bubble. Remove the lid and turn up the heat to reduce the liquid until the mix is thick and gloopy. Remove from the heat, taste and add sugar until you are happy with the balance of sweet and tart flavours. (You may not use all the sugar). Refrigerate.

Whip the cream until soft folds form but not stiff peaks. When the gooseberries are cool, fold gently into the cream. Serve with a crisp biscuit - ginger snaps or almond biscotti would be perfect.