Syllabub

I shall yet think it a diminution to our happiness, to miss of half our companions and compotators of syllabub, not to have Mr. Newsham and his dogs, and his preceptors, and his dearly-beloved cousin, and his mathematics, and his Greek, and his horses.

In the evening I ſhall hope for the honour of your Lordſhip's company to take a diſh of tea there, or a ſullabub warm from the cow.

Whip Syllabubs. Take a Pint of thin Cream, rub a Lump of Loaf Sugar on the Out-ſide of a Lemon, and ſweeten it to your Taſte, then put in the Juice of a Lemon, and a Glaſs of Madeira Wine, or French Brandy, mill it to a Froth with a Chocolate Mill, and take it off as it riſes, and lay it upon a Hair Sieve, then fill one half of your Poſſet Glaſſes, a little more than half full with White Wine, and the other half of your Glaſſes a little more than half full of Red Wine, then lay on your Froth as high as you can, but obſerve that it is well drained on your Sieve, or it will mix with your Wine, and ſpoil your Syllabubs.

To Make a Syllabub under the Cow. Put a bottle of either red or white wine, ale, or cyder, into a china bowl, sweeten it with sugar, and grate in some nutmeg; then hold it under the cow, and milk into it till it has a fine froth at the top; strew over it a handful of currants, clean washed and picked, and plumped before the fire. You may make this syllabub at home, by having new milk made as warm as from the cow, and pouring it out of a tea pot, or any other vessel with a spout, holding your hand very high.

London Syllabub. Put a pint and a half of port or white wine into a bowl, nutmeg grated, and a good deal of sugar, then milk into it near two quarts of milk, frothed up. If the wine be not rather sharp, it will require more for this quantity of milk. In Devonshire clouted cream is put on the top, and pounded cinnamon and sugar.

[A]s small boys, we pelt one another and the village school-girls and our nursemaids and young lady cousins with they hay, till, hot and weary, we retire to tea or syllabub beneath the shade of some great oak or elm standing up like a monarch out of the fair pasture; […]

[H]is kind mother, when she fancied the croquet was flagging, thought of a sillabub—and lo! in walked a meek looking cow, adorned with flowers, and furnished the party with a most fragrant and most refreshing draught.

Mother by hys sonne he hathe sende me a letter / Promysynge hereafter to be to vs better / And you and I with my greate clubbe / Muste walke to him and eate a solybubbe / and we shall make merye / and synge tyrle on the berye […]