AGNES BERTHA MARSHALL,
24th August, 1852
Becoming a celebrity chef is so easy these days that it’s a wonder why each of us don’t have our own TV show, somewhere up at the big number end of cable TV or on YouTube, in which we either shout ‘YOU FUCKING DONKEY!’ at some hapless seventeen-year-old kitchen porter or suggestively lick the end of a finger whilst giggling. Perhaps even both.
Such is the proliferation of people on various platforms who seem to actively believe they have the ability to cook that the scramble for some sort of USP among them throws up some incredibly bizarre behaviour. Only the other day, I watched one video, slightly flabbergasted, as a woman gave us her ‘handy tips’ for putting spinach in a bowl. This involved first opening a bag of spinach and putting it into a plastic container, putting the receiving glass bowl upside down on top of that and then inverting the whole edifice, whipping off the plastic bowl and going ‘TADA!’, leaving a sorrowful mound of green leaves in the glass bowl.
Simply putting the fucking spinach in the glass bowl was obviously not meta enough for the TikTok cook in question, who then ruined the whole thing anyway by putting it all in the oven for an hour with three pounds of Velveeta.
This doesn’t mean, naturally, that one has to have Gordon Fucking Ramsay standards of formal cookery education in order to be successful, glamorous, respected and inspiring as a celebrity chef. Perennially pouting, finger licking, super-cook Nigella Lawson, has cunningly crafted herself a large slice of the immaculate and sultry end of the home chef market by smouldering at camera whilst saying ‘mmm…creamy’ and taking far too much pleasure in saying the word ‘sausage’, despite not, as far as I am aware, being anything other than the former literary editor of The Sunday Times and daughter of the heavyweight Tory politician and former Chancellor of the Exchequer, Sir Nigel Lawson.
And good luck to her; the world doesn’t need another bloke moaning about a woman being successful. Nigella might have no formal training, but if you or I were ever invited to her immaculate home for Christmas lunch, we would eat and drink like ravenous Bourbon Kings.
So, you don’t need to be a trained cook to become a famous one and another example of someone who took that route was, maybe, one of the first celebrity cooks, the ice-cream pioneer and business woman, Agnes B Marshall.
Agnes Bertha Marshall, born Agnes Beere Smith on August 24, 1855, was a British culinary visionary who left an indelible mark on the world of cooking, particularly in the realm of frozen desserts. Often referred to as the "Queen of Ices," she was an entrepreneurial force, a pioneer in culinary technology, and a public figure in an age where few women commanded such influence. Her inventive spirit and flair for marketing helped her create a legacy that shaped how modern kitchens approach frozen treats, though much of her impact has only been rediscovered in recent years.
Agnes Marshall’s story is remarkable, beginning at a time when opportunities for women in business were limited.
Very little is known about how or when Agnes Marshall learned to cook. A later article in the Pall Mall Gazette claimed she had "made a thorough study of cookery since she was a child" and had trained with renowned chefs in Paris and Vienna. In the preface to her first book, Marshall herself mentioned receiving "practical training and lessons, through several years, from leading English and Continental authorities." However, this account seems unlikely considering her humble beginnings in the East End of London. The 1871 census lists an eighteen-year-old Agnes Smith, born in Walthamstow, working as a kitchen maid in Hertfordshire, which aligns more closely with her background. Additionally, her daughter Ethel’s 1878 birth certificate describes Agnes as a domestic servant.
In April 1878, “Agnes Beer Smith,” listed as a domestic servant, gave birth to Ethel Doyle Smith in Dalston. Interestingly, the birth certificate suggests that the father’s surname was Doyle, rather than the commonly assumed name of her future husband. Just a few months later, on August 17, 1878, she married Alfred William Marshall, the son of a builder, at St. George's Church, Hanover Square. Together, they had three more children: Agnes Alfreda ("Aggie") born in 1879, Alfred Harold in 1880, and William Edward in 1882. Ethel was raised as part of the family, and at some point, Agnes changed her second name to Bertha.
In 1883, at the age of 28, she purchased a property in London to open her own cooking school, a bold move considering that women had only recently been granted the legal right to own property independently. The Marshall School of Cookery was an immediate success, growing from just 40 students to more than 2,000 within two years. Her courses were innovative for the time, focusing on both French and English cuisine while making frozen desserts accessible to the middle class. Marshall's passion for ice creams and ices was evident in the meticulous detail and artistry she brought to her teachings.
Her first major publication, The Book of Ices, was released in 1885 and featured an astonishing 177 recipes for frozen desserts. Far from limiting herself to the traditional vanilla and chocolate flavors, Marshall ventured into more adventurous territory, creating recipes that included flavors like cucumber, lobster, and even foie gras. Her forward-thinking approach wasn’t just about flavors; she was also a brilliant inventor. She designed and patented a hand-cranked ice cream maker that was significantly faster and more efficient than others of the time, freezing a pint of ice cream in just five minutes. This invention, along with her specially designed molds and presentation tools, allowed her students and customers to recreate elegant, restaurant-quality desserts in their own homes.
In addition to her work as a chef and inventor, Marshall was a marketing genius. Recognizing the potential to build a personal brand long before this became common practice, she expanded her empire to include a line of kitchen equipment, ingredients, and even a magazine. The Table, her weekly publication, was an essential resource for Victorian homemakers, featuring not just recipes, but advice on table settings, seasonal foods, and kitchen management. It also served as a platform for her to express her opinions on a range of issues. She was an advocate for better treatment of kitchen staff, criticizing the harsh conditions many faced in wealthy households. Marshall was also ahead of her time in supporting women's rights, often using her platform to champion the cause, writing about how women deserved more opportunities and recognition in both domestic and public spheres.
Marshall was a true entrepreneur, always seeking ways to innovate and grow her business. Her “Pretty Luncheon” demonstration tours across England attracted audiences of up to 600 people per event. These live cooking demonstrations were a spectacle in their own right, with Marshall captivating crowds as she created exquisite dishes on stage. Her flair for showmanship turned her into one of the most recognized chefs in England, bridging the gap between haute cuisine and the general public.
Among her many contributions, one that stands out is her role in popularizing the ice cream cone. Although commonly believed to have debuted at the 1904 World’s Fair, Marshall had already published recipes for “cornets” in 1888. Her version of the cone was delicate and artistic, designed to be filled with ice cream and other treats. This innovation highlights her unique ability to blend practicality with elegance, making sophisticated dining more accessible.
Marshall’s influence extended beyond her recipes and inventions. She played a significant role in shaping the ice industry in the UK, indirectly boosting ice imports from countries like Norway and the United States by creating a surge in demand for frozen desserts. Her development of efficient freezing techniques and equipment allowed the middle class to indulge in what had once been the exclusive domain of the aristocracy.
However, Marshall’s remarkable career was cut tragically short. In 1904, she suffered a severe injury in a riding accident and began showing signs of what many believe was cancer. She passed away the following year at the age of 49. After her death, her business was taken over by her husband but eventually declined, and her name faded from popular memory. Much of her work was lost when a fire destroyed many of her patents and archives, and her cookbooks fell out of print. The publisher who acquired her estate focused more on promoting other culinary figures, such as Mrs. Beeton, further obscuring Marshall’s legacy.
Yet, despite this decline, her contributions to the world of culinary arts are undeniable. Marshall’s work laid the foundation for many of the practices and technologies that define the modern kitchen. Her books have been rediscovered in recent decades, leading to a renewed appreciation for her role as a culinary pioneer. She was not just a chef but a one-woman industry, who, through her boundless creativity, entrepreneurial spirit, and passion for perfection, helped transform frozen desserts from a luxury for the elite into a beloved treat for all. And all of it more remarkable because she came, seemingly, from a background as a humble maid.
Agnes Marshall’s legacy as a culinary innovator continues to inspire chefs and food historians alike. Her influence is felt every time we indulge in a scoop of ice cream or marvel at the elegant presentation of a frozen dessert. While her name may have been overshadowed by others for much of the 20th century, her impact remains as sweet as the treats she so masterfully crafted.