Jonathan Swift, gifted writer, satirist, and dean of Dublin's Saint Patrick's Cathedral from the early to mid-1700's, really liked his food. He was the kind of person who would write poems to roast mutton or take the time to jot down the advertising "street cries" of people hawking food in the lanes and markets of Dublin and London -- sometimes even composing new ones. In so doing he also paid attention to fad foods like the orange.

Though oranges had been growing in Spain since around the 1300's -- brought there from North Africa by the Moors -- the centuries-long hostility between England and Spain meant that no oranges had ever come north by direct trade. Their arrival in the British Isles was therefore delayed until the mid-1600's, around the same time that Britain started establishing trading bases in the Caribbean, and seeds and slips from orange trees planted there by the Spanish came into the hands of English-based merchants when trading islands changed hands.

Soon thereafter oranges began turning up in the streets of London as the hot new gourmet snack, sold by entrepreneurs like the (later) actress Nell Gwyn, who caught the eye of King Charles II while selling oranges at the playhouse that later became London's Theatre Royal. As the orange supply increased, people started using oranges in other ways than just eating them out of hand. These were bitterer oranges than we'd now be used to, ancestors of the modern Seville orange: and as their novelty wore off a little, people started thinking of them more as a seasoning or spice than as a fruit as such. One favorite approach was using them to season hot wine drinks. As a cry for a lady selling oranges in the street, Swift writes:

-- a Bishop being a standard name for a mixed drink like our modern mulled wine, scented with citrus and spices. In the original versions of the recipe, lemon was used instead: the whole unpeeled lemon was stuck with cloves and roasted by an open fire, then simmered along with the wine, sugar and spices.

Somewhere along the line, though, the orange-based version of this recipe underwent a change, turning from a drink recipe into a dessert. Another writer, the famous Dr. Johnson, may somehow have been involved, as he was reported by another writer to be in the habit of taking those whole roasted oranges home after the drink was finished, then carefully peeling the zest off in strips and using it as part of a cure for indigestion, and possibly -- who knows? -- eating the insides too.

The first Irish dessert version of this dish is reported by the great cookbook writer and Irish food researcher Theodora Fitzgibbon, in Irish Traditional Food. Between Fitzgibbon and Dr. Johnson the recipe's trail is missing at least one link. Now it's hard to know whether she got the recipe from another source who had misunderstood the earlier history of roasted or burnt oranges, or was genuinely reporting some other cook's sudden leap of culinary inspiration that turned up during Fitzgibbon's research through many old Irish manuscripts. The important thing is that the recipe definitely works, with some adjustment for modern oranges, wines and tastes -- producing an edgy, buttery sweet, crunchy with caramelized sugar and enlivened with a breath of flamed Irish whiskey.

The modern Seville-type oranges that most closely correspond to those used in Swift's time are still best for this recipe, with one warning: the wine paired with them needs to be a sweet one, such as a Sauterne, Muscat or Marsala. (You can use a sweet sherry, but bear in mind that the flavor will be different.) If you can't get the Seville oranges or prefer to use a sweeter eating orange such as a navel orange, a "medium" white wine will work fine if you prefer to substitute it for one of the sweeter ones.

Click on "read more" for the recipe and method.    

Ingredients:

• 4 large oranges or 6-8 Seville oranges
• 150 ml sweet white wine (or a medium white wine if using eating oranges)
• 4 tablespoons butter
• 6 tablespoons granulated sugar (less if you're using eating oranges)
• 300 ml fresh-squeezed orange juice
• 2 tablespoons warmed Irish whiskey

Using a fruit zester if possible, or a very sharp knife if you don't have a zester, remove all possible zest from all your oranges. (If using a knife, thinly peel off just the orange part of the orange skin and cut it into thin strips.) Put the zest in a bowl with the white wine and allow to steep gently.

Peel the zested oranges and separate the segments out. Pull or scrape off as much as possible of any white pith from the flesh of the orange segments.

(If you're using Seville oranges, please note that they are not seedless: in fact they're some of the most seedful oranges you're ever likely to encounter. Once you've separated the segments, pick them up one by one and gently press the seeds out over a bowl, so as to conserve the juice that will be lost during this operation.)

Put the oranges into an ovenproof dish that can also be used over direct heat (as the final stages of this dessert happen on the stovetop). Dot the orange slices evenly with the butter. Then sprinkle the orange slices with half the sugar.

Put the orange slices into a 400° F / 200° C oven for 10 minutes, or until the sugar caramelizes.

Meanwhile, mix the orange juice with the remaining sugar in a saucepan and bring to the boil. Lower the heat slightly and let the mixture cook and thicken until syrupy. When it has thickened and reduced, add the orange peel and wine mixture and bring to the boil again, then cook rapidly to reduce and thicken again.

Remove the oranges from the oven. If they're not fully browned, you may want to run them under a broiler for a few minutes, watching the carefully to make sure the caramelizing sugar doesn't scorch. When the browning process is finished, pour the warmed whiskey over the orange segments and set it alight. (Do not neglect to warm the whiskey: otherwise it won't catch fire.)

As the flames die down, add the orange syrup and let the whole dish simmer and bubble gently on a stovetop burner on medium heat for about 2 minutes.

Serve the burnt oranges at once: or if you prefer, they can be served cold. Pouring double cream over the cold version, in the Irish style, works very well.