TWELFTH-NIGHT FUN IN FRENCH STYLE

Press, Volume CVI, Issue 31261, 6 January 1967, Page 2

TWELFTH-NIGHT FUN IN FRENCH STYLE

(By

MARY TROUP)

Today, January 6, is Epiphany. In the Anglican Prayer Book it is sub-titled “The Manifestation o f Christ to the Gentiles.” In England it is still known by the old name, “Twelfth Night,” and regarded mainly as the day on which to take down the Christmas decorations. In France it is called “The Feast of the Kings,” the occasion for much feasting. Twelfth Cake, the symbolic French delicacy containing the traditional dried broad bean (the “fevre” or favour) is always served on Twelfth

Night There are two types of this cake. In most of the provinces north of the Loire river, particularly in the region of Paris, it is a “galette”—a round of flakypastry dough crimped around the edges, brushed with egg, and marked on top in lozenge-shaped segments. South of the Loire, and notably in the South of France, the cake is made from yeast dough in a ring shape, to represent a crown. In both cakes, the beansymbolic of new life beginning—is baked in the dough. This is not always a real bean; it is sometimes a small porcelain model of a heart, a king’s head, a baby emerging from a bean, or some other figure. “Draw The King” Living in South-west France two New Years ago, our family was able to sample both types of cake, although it was the yeast ring we saw more often. I say often, because the celebration of this feast went on all through January, and as we have several family birthdays during this month, we were only too happy to repeat the festivity—a kind of parlour game. As it was introduced to us by the French Protestant family with whom were were staying, the occasion was called “Draw out the King”— “Tirez le Roi." After the evening meal had been cleared away, our friends produced a bottle of champagne, one of each of the two types of cake (the ring one liberally dotted with large sugar crystals reminiscent of snowflakes), and four ornate crowns. Supplied by the pastry-cooks, from whom one bought the cakes, the

crowns were flat strips of light cardboard gilded on one side, and slotted at the ends to form circlets. The twelfth cakes were cut into portions and distributed among the 11 of us. Each time, one lucky person found the favour. The hostess then placed a crown on the head of that person, who became king or queen, and, in turn, crowned the consort of his or her choice, amid much toasting of both royal personages. One can imagine many agonising choices through the years, between personal preference and diplomacy. I had to be an understanding wife when my husband gallantly chose Madame J., an attractive blonde widow, as his queen instead of me. On Twelfth Night last year our home-coming ship called at Piraeus, Greece, and we found the day being celebrated as a public holiday. All shops in Athens were closed, except one open to sell souvenirs to tourists. So I was not able to investigate any seasonal Greek delicacies. Lonely Experiment

I had carefully saved our French crowns and favours, planning to hold an Epiphany party in Christchurch this year. But here, in the middle of our summer holiday season, the timing is all wrong for a winter parlour game. Our family is scattered and many of our friends are away. At home alone, I shall try my hand at making a yeast twelfth cake. It will be highly experimental, because my French cookery books do not give a recipe. But the crowning of the king, and the toasting in champagne, will have to wait