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Archive for the ‘culinary history’ Category

I began writing the following entry more than three weeks
ago. I was prompted to do so largely because of various
articles, blog postings, and the like, as well as an array
of comments and “discussions” on Facebook, particularly
those on the page of the Informal Association of Cookbook
Collectors and Foodists
(IACCF). Of course, I’m not normally
concerned with Lincoln and his early adult years or those of
his presidency, as none are really within “my” time period.
However, the times that came before certainly are. Besides,
I feel it’s my duty to dispel food-related myths no matter
when they allegedly originated.

Once I started, however, it seemed to take forever to finish.
The research, alone, was never-ending, for it led me in all
different directions. I’d read one website after another after
yet another. Then there were the numerous books I found,
both online and at my local library here in Brooklyn. And
just when I thought I’d finished my journey, I’d find even
more bits ‘n pieces of new information. I tell you, in some
ways, I suppose I’ll never REALLY finish this!

Okay. Enough of that! Now, due to its length, I’ve divided
this article into two sections. So, without further ado,
here’s Part One of
“Lincoln food myths.”
____________________________________

This year, it seemed to me that the month of February
belonged to one person: Lincoln.

scan0006

I suppose it’s because of that recent, widely well-known,
blockbuster film of the same name and its accompanying
Oscar buzz, claims of historical inaccuracies, and so on.
Then there was his “real” birthday on the 11th, and the
“fake” but-conveniently-rescheduled-to-create-a-three-
day-holiday-weekend one he shares with Washington
that’s known as Presidents’ Day.*

And so, with all this attention paid to Lincoln, it was only
natural that people wrote about him. ALOT. And about his
wife. And their lives together. And the food that one or the
other ate. And then the…wait. What?!? Yep, there was an
abundance of stories about the dishes that were prepared,
cooked, served, and eaten in the Lincoln household. However,
nearly all of them are just that…stories. Tall tales that suffer
from an appalling lack of documented evidence or are based
on multiple broad assumptions or that rely heavily on mere
speculation. And so, even though these Lincoln food tales
have been swirling around for decades, and have recently
gained new-found momentum, they aren’t necessarily true.
In historic-speak, they’re commonly referred to as fakelore.

One of the most ubiquitous Lincoln-related food myths is
that of Mary Todd Lincoln’s “Courtin’ Cake,” which at times
was also referred to as her “White Cake” and at others,
as an “Almond Cake” and then by some combination of
all those. The jist of the story is that Mary made this cake
for Mr. Lincoln during the time they were courting. Some
versions even imply that it was this confectionery delight
that sealed the deal. Others also claim she made it after
they were married and beyond.

So, is it fact or fiction? Let’s look at information given on
various websites that deal with Lincoln history, such as
those of the Mary Todd Lincoln House and the Lexington
History Museum
, both in Lexington, Kentucky, that of The
National First Ladies
‘ Library, of Canton, Ohio, and others.
Books were consulted, as well, including a fascinating little
tome found online about the newly-married Lincolns’ first
Springfield residence.

Before I go further, however, let me say that I’m always
leery of these food tales, and so I question their validity.
Hearing it from someone or seeing it on TV or reading it
in a book usually doesn’t suffice. As a culinary historian,
I want, indeed demand, to see primary documentation,
be it diary entries, letters, newspaper accounts and ads,
or some other written proof that the incidents contained
in a particular story actually took place. If there is none,
then the story is just that…a story.

Now, just for the sake of argument, let’s say written
documentation proves nothing. Besides, no one really
knows what anyone ate 50 years ago, let alone 250.
Heck, few can remember what they ate last week. So
give it up, already! Okay, I will. So now what? How do
we prove, or disprove, that something is true? Well, for
starters, let’s look at other documented evidence that
may or may not support these Lincoln food tales.

First, Mary Todd was born into a Southern “prominent
and influential,” slave-holding, “wealthy and aristocratic
family” of Lexington, Kentucky, a city which was then
thumb_youngmaryknown as “the Athens of the West”
and was on a par with Eastern cities
like Boston and Philadelphia. Now,
this statement, which contains
known facts, should alone put a
halt to the “Courtin’ Cake” story.
Why? Because it proves that Mary,
as a child of a well-established and
prosperous Southern family, lived
a life of tremendous privilege, and thus she would not
have done any type of household work. Nor would it’ve
been expected that she do so. Yes, she likely learned
how to manage a busy home and to supervise the
daily activities that took place therein, but she would
not’ve actually DONE the work required. It would’ve
been beneath her station in life to do so. Besides,
to be blunt, her family had slaves to do such work!

Let’s add a few more facts from Mary’s life, just in case
the above isn’t enough evidence for the conviction of this
“Cake” myth. In 1839, Mary moved to Springfield, Illinois,
where she resided with her oldest sister, Elizabeth, and
her husband, Ninian Edwards, the son of a former Illinois
Governor. Certainly, seeing as the two girls had the same
upbringing, not to mention her own status in the community
at the time, Mrs. Edwards would’ve had hired help to do
any household tasks, whether it was cleaning, cooking,
washing and ironing clothes, or any other chore. It’s not
likely she would’ve done the work herself, nor would she
have expected Mary (as her sister AND as a house guest)
to do it. Therefore, it’s highly unlikely that Mary, who’d
never had to cook before, would’ve suddenly taken it
up while living with her sister’s family.

Then, at some point in 1840, Mary met the struggling
young lawyer, Abraham Lincoln when both attended
a party given at the Edwards’ home. The couple soon
began courting, much to the dismay of Mary’s family.
Seems they thought he was beneath her, and that it
was a poor match. After all, Mary was well-educated,
and he was not. Mary came frommarylincoln
a wealthy family, he did not. While
growing up, Mary was given every
advantage in the world, he was
not. And he was nearly 10 years
older, to boot! No matter, for their
relationship was apparently a rocky
one, and the two split on the first
of January, 1841. All was not lost,
however, for they renewed their courtship 18 months
later. But when they did, it was done secretly! No one
knew about it. In fact, Mary didn’t tell Elizabeth until
November 4, 1842. Mary and Abe were then married
that same day.**

The point here is that, under the above circumstances,
Mary would not have been baking any cakes, even if
she had been cooking up a storm since before she left
Lexington. And golly, how the heck could she’ve baked
anything if she and Abe were courting secretly?!?

It does make for an intriguing scenario, though. I can
just see it now:

What are you doing, Mary?

(trying not to act suspiciously)
Baking a cake.

Why? If you want something to eat,
ask Cook to prepare you something.

Um, yes, well, uh, I’m not THAT hungry.
I’m, er, just doing this for fun?!

And then the following day, after Mary had secretly
spent time with Mr. Lincoln:

What happened to that cake you made,
Mary? It seems to have disappeared.

(again, trying not to act suspiciously)
Um, er, uh, I don’t know.
Maybe someone…stole it?!?

Yeah, sure! You bet!

Want more? Well, how about this: After Mary and Abe were
married, they lived for nearly two years at Springfield’s Globe
Tavern, where they had just one room. Their first son, Robert,

??????????????????????

was born in that room. Many other newlyweds boarded
at the Globe, not only at that same time, but in the past
as well, including other members of Mary’s family. All meals
were taken in a common dining room, and so Mary wouldn’t
have been doing ANY cooking or baking. The couple then
purchased a small house in Springfield during 1844 and
moved there. And, according to several sources, Mary did
indeed have hired help by that time.

Now, I found another version of this “Courtin’ Cake” story
that claims it all started with a French pastry chef who ran
a bakery in Lexington. Supposedly, he’d made a cake for
the Marquis de Lafayette’s visit to the City in May of 1825.
And according to this tale, the women of the Todd family
tried a few pieces of that cake, fell in love with it, asked
for the recipe, and thus, forever after, it became a part
of the Todd Family’s “culinary repertoire.”

The problems with this are too numerous to mention. One,
however, is, if such a cake was indeed made, when, where,
and why were Todd family members eating it? Again, they
had their own slave chefs and pastry cooks to do any and
all baking. Same for the recipe becoming part of their family
collection. Why? Was it THAT good? And were the ones made
at home THAT bad?! Then there’s the fact that Mary was born
on December 13, 1818; she would’ve only been six years old
when General Lafayette came through Lexington in the spring
of 1825. It seems highly unlikely that both she and the Great
Frenchman partook of the same cake, at the same time, and
at the same place.

While researching this supposed Lexington/Lafayette connection,
I found a delightful little book that’d been published in Philadelphia
in 1829: Lafayette in America, 1824 and 1825; Or, Journal of a Voyage
to the United States
. An account book Lafayette's voyage to US 1824-5of the noted and
beloved-by-Americans Frenchman’s return journey
to the country he’d bravely assisted during its War
for Independence, it was recorded by his secretary,
Auguste Levasseur, and then later translated by
John D. Godman, M.D.*** In the few pages dealing
with the General’s limited time in Lexington, there
is NO mention of any foods or cakes or bakeries
or of meeting or spending time with any members
of the Todd family. In fact, General Lafayette spent a mere 48 hours
in the City. His schedule during that time included touring a boy’s
school, an academy for girls, and the University of Transylvania,
all of which were located within Lexington. He then traveled
several miles outside the City to the homes of General Charles
Scott’s widow and of the then US Secretary of State, Henry Clay.

There’s also another, similar, account that claims Mary acquired
the cake recipe herself, allegedly from her favorite Lexington
bakery. No date was given in this particular version. But again,
if her family had slave-chefs and bakers, why would she (or
anyone else, for that matter) even need a bakery, let alone
have a favorite one? Also, I’ve frequently heard someone say,
“Oh, I love to bake cakes using the recipe that belonged to my
[insert relative here] Great-Grandmother/Grandmother/Mother.”
But I’ve NEVER, ever, heard, “You’re gonna love this cake recipe
from the bakery down the street”?!? So…I mean…really?!

Another element of this “Cake Debate,” and in fact, of any
claims about what foods the Lincolns supposedly ate, is the
question of what cookbook (or books) Mary Todd Lincoln did
(or didn’t) own and did (or didn’t) use. Luckily for us modern
food historians, there IS documented proof that she bought
at least one. But which one? And when did she acquire it?
And why? And, well…stay tuned….

to be continued…
________________________________________________
________________________________________________

NOTES
The FOURTH image, the marker located where the original Globe Tavern
stood in Springfield, Illinois, the text reads:

On this site stood
The Globe Tavern
the home of
Abraham Lincoln
and his wife
from the time of
their marriage on
November 4, 1842
until
May 2, 1844.
Here their first child
was born.

*“Officially,” Presidents’ Day was created (June 28, 1968) to commemorate
Washington’s birthday
ONLY. Congress later attempted to “officially” include
Lincoln, but failed. Of course, nowadays people think it’s a day to celebrate
ALL US Presidents, whether or not they have done anything of note.

____________

**By all accounts, Mary and Abe courted in secret, and then “suddenly”
were married the VERY SAME DAY of the Big Reveal. And so, even I have
to wonder: Was it merely the fact that there was a secret? Or was it
because they’d violated the current rules of propriety? Or was her sister
afraid of potential stains on her own reputation? OR…was it a shotgun
wedding? After all, their first child was born a scant nine months later
(August 1, 1843). He was certainly a “honeymoon baby,” but was he
more than that? Is that birth date the REAL one? Or did someone
perhaps fudge with it at some point? I’d sure like to see the original
birth certificate. Heck, I even read in one source that some historians
have described Mary as being “pregnant at the altar”! Huh. Abe Lincoln,
country bumpkin AND major hunk! Who knew?!

____________

***In the course of my research, I discovered another book about
Lafayette’s travels in this country:
Lafayette in America in 1824
and 1825, by Alan Hoffman (2007).
What’s interesting is the story the author shares about his fascination
with the General, and how it lead him to sit down with a French/English
dictionary and his recently-purchased $450-original-copy of Levasseur’s
account in order to translate it. Aww, how nice.
But what I’d like to know is…WHY?!? It’d already been translated! Way
back in 1829, just a mere four years after the Big Voyage! Why the heck
would anyone re-do it? What’s the point? Did Hoffman not know about
Godman’s translation? If so, well, how can that be? Just how bad ARE
his research skills?
So, I sought out Hoffman’s book at the Brooklyn library, because I want
to compare the two translations (without having to spend $30 or more).
However, apparently it hasn’t been at the top of the Library’s acquisition
list, and so I must await its arrival from another lending institution. I’m
eager to get it because, according to the listing on amazon.com, Hoffman’s
book “is the only unabridged English translation” of Levasseur’s account.
Hmmm…guess we’ll see. I’ll let you know what happens.

Read Full Post »

While creating the menu for this coming Saturday’s hearth
cooking class at the Israel Crane House, I came across
the following in Mrs. Gardiner’s Family Receipts* (1763).
Note the specific instructions on storage:

Beets to pickle
Boil Spring Water, and when it boils
put in your Beets and let them boil
untill [sic] they are tender; then
peel them with a Cloth, and lay
them in a Stone Jar. To three
quarts of Vinegar put two quarts
of Spring Water, and so mix untill
you have as much as you think you
shall want. Put your watered Vinegar
in a Pan and add Salt to your taste;
stir it well together untill all the Salt
is melted when you must pour it upon
your Beets. Cover your Jar with a Bladder.
(emphasis mine)

Of course, if you’d just completed your hog butchering, you’d
use a fresh bladder. But if not, the bladders could be dried
and used later.

One dried hog’s bladder:

IMG_8813

After soaking in water overnight, the bladder is stretched
across the mouth of a jar and securely tied:

IMG_8003

And in a few days, it dries again, creating an air-tight seal:

IMG_8155

TA-DA! The equivalent of today’s Tuperware! Or, as one
visitor to the Crane House kitchen described it, “colonial
Saran wrap.” It also makes a great drum! HUZZAH!

Of course, it’d be MUCH better to use a stoneware crock
(as it states here in Mrs. Gardiner’s receipt) for storing
any pickled items (or liquids). Stoneware is less porous
and far more durable than this redware jar, which is likely
to leak. No leaching of lead from the pot’s glaze, as well
(and yes, they were aware of those dangers; not the
specifics so much as knowing “we’ll become ill”).

IMG_7977

____________________

NOTE: Oops! Forgot to mention initially that the above jar is empty.
The bladder was secured soley for the purpose of demonstrating food
preservation techniques.

_______________________________________

* Mrs. Gardiner’s Family Receipts, the published personal manuscript
cookbook of Anne Gibbons (Mrs. Sylvester) Gardiner of Boston, MA,
was begun in 1763.

Read Full Post »

Ack! I’ve been working on this blog entry since early January, and
I’d hoped to get it posted long before tonight. Alas, life kept getting
in the way, and now, January has come to an end and February
is here. dagnabit. Ahh, well…timely or not, here it is.
Finally. Oh!
And thanks to fellow hearth cook Tiffany Fisk-Watts for getting
me started. HUZZAH!

____________________________________

Awhile back, I conducted an in-depth receipt (recipe) search
for Twelfth Cake aka Twelfth-Night Cake. I looked in all my
facsimiles of 18th century cookbooks, as well as in the few
I have from the 17th, 16th, and earlier centuries. Books I’d
downloaded and a few others that are available online were
also consulted.

And so, what was the result of this investigation? What did
I find? Well, the answer, as you may recall from when I wrote
about my
search some two years ago: Absolutely nothing.
Yep, I found zilch, nada, zip. There’s not a single receipt
for Twelfth Night Cake of in any of those cookbooks.

Now, if you received one of James Townsend & Son’s 2013
calendars (as I did), you may be thinking, “Hey, now wait
just a minute! According to Townsend, there’s a receipt for

scan0007

‘Twelfth-Night Cake’ in The London Art of Cookery (1800*),
by John Farley. Good golly, it’s right there, on the opening
page, as the receipt for January!” Yeah, well, sorry, but it’s
incorrect. There are NO receipts for twelfth-night cakes
in any 18th century cookbook, let alone in Farley’s.

So, if that’s the case (and indeed it is), what’s with that
first recipe on Townsend’s calendar? Where did it come
from? Heavens! Did he make it up?! Thankfully, no. The
answer, though, is easily found. It’s in fine print over
in the lower right-hand corner of the very same page.
Read it, and you’ll discover Townsend believes that
a Twelfth-Night cake is the same as a Bride’s Cake.
Apparently, at least according to Townsend, they’re
interchangeable! And thus, THAT is exactly what is
given here. Yep, January’s recipe is NOT, specifically,
for a Twelfth-Night cake; it’s for a Bride’s Cake.

Now, this claim that the two cakes, Twelfth-Night and
Bride’s, are one and the same is one that I’ve never,
ever heard before. And so, I have to wonder, where’d
Townsend get this idea?! What is its source? Why does
he believe it’s correct? Whatever the answers may be
to those questions, the bottom line is, it isn’t true.
These cakes are NOT the same!

How do I know? Because there are receipts specifically
for twelfth cakes in at least two early 19th century
cookbooks which ALSO contain instructions for making,
specifically, a Bride’s Cake. And yes, the two cakes ARE
different, even if only slightly. The first of the above books
is John Mollard’s The Art of Cookery (1801), and The Cook’s
Oracle
(1817), by William Kitchiner, M.D., is the second.

There’s a pesky, um, problem, if you will, with Farley’s
Bride Cake receipt. It’s not his. It’s Elizabeth Raffald’s.
Yep, he stole, er, borrowed, it from her. In fact, Farley
scan0029is well known for plagiarizing other
author’s works. Heck, a few years
ago, a member of the historic food-
ways staff at Colonial Williamsburg
told me that they refer to his book
as “The London Art of Plagiarism.”
Pretty accurate, I’d say! So I rarely,
if ever, use it. In any event, seems
to me, if you’re going to engage in
a substitution scheme of some sort, that you’d choose
the original and not a copy! Not only that, but there
ARE actual historic receipts for twelfth cakes. Why not
use one of those? The one Townsend offers is from an
1800 publication anyway, so it’s not like he’s sticking
necessarily to one single time period. Why not move
ahead just one year (1801), or even a few more (1817),
and present a TRUE twelfth cake receipt?

Another problem I have with January’s receipt, besides
it being one cake masquerading as another and it not
being attributed to its original source, is the fact that
it’s an adaptation. And you all know how I absolutely,
positively, detest adaptations! And what you see here
is NOT the actual receipt taken from an historic cookbook.
In addition, it’s not even faithful to the original, as both
the ingredients and the instructions have been altered.
It’s been adapted and re-written! And although I’ve not
inspected each and every one (it’d be too maddening!),
I suspect all the recipes in Townsend’s 2013 calendar
are merely adaptations of historic ones. Most likely,
there’s not one authentic, not-been-messed-with
recipe in the lot (sadly). That’s why I think it needs
to be re-titled. Instead of “Recipes & Sundry Items,”
it should be “Adapted Historic Recipes & Sundry Items.”
Truth in advertising, don’t you know!

Hmmm. On second thought, I guess he DID make it up!
Which is just the sort of thing that I don’t understand.
There are plenty of actual, original historic receipts out
there. They’re not difficult to find. So use them! Then
tell us how to make THAT receipt, as it’s written! It CAN
be done. Heck, I do it all the time in my hearth cooking.
But to muck about with an historic receipt, and then pass
it off as being historic, even down to “it’s from so-n-so’s”
18th or 19th century book. Add in the nature of your
business (seller of supposed historic reproductions),
and, well, it just seems deceitful to me.

Nevertheless…let’s continue…

In order to compare Townsend’s recipe to the original,
here is Elizabeth Raffald’s Bride Cake, as given in her
book, The Experienced English Housekeeper (1769):


To make a Bride Cake
Take four pounds of fine flour well dried,
four pounds of fresh butter, two pounds
of loaf sugar, pound and sift fine a quarter
of an ounce of mace, the same of nutmegs.
To every pound of flour put eight eggs.
Wash four pounds of currants, pick them
well and dry them before the fire. Blanch
a pound of sweet almonds (and cut them
lengthway very thin), a pound of citron,
one pound of candied orange, the same
of candied lemon, half a pint of brandy.
First work the butter with your hand to
a cream, then beat in your sugar a quarter
of an hour. Beat the whites of your eggs
to a very strong froth, mix them with your
sugar and butter, beat your yolks half an
hour at least and mix them with your cake.
Then put in your flour, mace and nutmeg,
keep beating it well till your oven is ready,
put in your brandy, and beat your currants
and almonds lightly in. Tie three sheets
of paper round the bottom of your hoop
to keep it from running out, rub it well
your sweetmeats in three lays with cake
betwixt every lay. After it is risen and
coloured, cover it with paper before
your oven is stopped up. It will take
three hours baking.

Did you notice the following line?

and lay your sweetmeats in three
lays with cake betwixt every lay.

So, that means it’s not just another every-day cake,
scan0028with all those various ingredients
thrown in higgledy-piggledy. No, it’s
more deliberate. There’s to be three
separate layers of citron and candied
orange and lemon peels that alternate
in between three of cake batter. Almost
sounds as if it’s perhaps a type of 18th
century layer cake.

____________________

Lastly, let’s take a look at the two known, bona-fide receipts
for Twelfth Cakes that’re from the early 1800s. First up, is
John Mollard’s, from his The Art of Cookery (1801). Then
we’ll move on to William Kitchiner’s, as presented in his
work, The Cook’s Oracle (1817). I trust you’ll ferret out
the similarities and the differences between these two
cakes (for instance, the use of yeast in Mollard’s) below:

TWELFTH CAKES.

Take seven pounds of flour, make a cavity
in the center, set a sponge with a gill and
a half of yeast and a little warm milk; then
put round it one pound of fresh butter broke
into small lumps, one pound and a quarter
of sifted sugar, four pounds and a half
of currants washed and picked, half an
ounce of sifted cinnamon, a quarter of
an ounce of pounded cloves, mace, and
nutmeg mixed, sliced candied orange or
lemon peel and citron. When the sponge
is risen, mix all the ingredients together
with a little warm milk; let the hoops be
well papered and buttered, then fill them
with the mixture and bake them, and
when nearly cold ice them over with sugar
prepared for that purpose as per receipt;
or they may be plain.

Again, as you may recall from from my blog post two years
ago
, noted food historian Ivan Day wrote in Cooking in Europe,
1650-1850
, that Mollard’s receipt “seems to be the earliest
printed recipe for an English twelfth cake.”

Next, Kitchiner’s receipt from his The Cook’s Oracle (1817):


Twelfth Cake. (No. 55.)
2 lb of sifted flour, 2 lb of sifted loaf
sugar, 2 lb of butter, 18 eggs, 4 lb
of currants, 1/2 pound almonds,
blanched and chopped, 1/2 pound
of citron or lemon, 1 lb of candied
orange and lemon peel cut into thin
slices, a large nutmeg grated, 1/2 oz
ground allspice; ground cinnamon,
mace, ginger, and corianders, 1/4 oz
of each and a gill of brandy.
Put the butter into a stewpan in a warm
place and work it into a smooth cream
with the hand. Mix it with the sugar
and spice in a pan (or on your paste
board), for some time; then break
in the eggs by degrees, and beat it
at least 20 minutes; stir in the brandy,
and then the flour, and work it a little.
Add the fruit, sweetmeats and almonds
and mix all lightly together. Have ready
a hoop cased with paper on a baking
plate. Put in the mixture, smooth it on
the top with your hand. Put the plate
on another one with sawdust between,
to prevent the bottom from colouring
too much, and bake it in a slow oven
four hours or more. When nearly cold,
ice it with twelfth cake icing.
Obs. A good twelfth cake, not baked
too much, and kept in a cool dry place,
will retain its moisture and eat well if
twelve months old.

Oh, and look what follows the above receipt:


Bride or Wedding Cake. (No. 56)
The only difference usually made
in these Cakes is, the addition of
one pound of Raisins, stoned and
mixed with the other fruit.

Perhaps this is where Townsend got his idea that a Bride
Cake is the same as a Twelfth Cake? According to Kitchiner,
they ARE similar, in all but one ingredient. And yet, still they
are NOT exactly the same. They are two distinct receipts!

But I digress…. Now, the receipt in Kitchiner for making
icing for these cakes is found under the heading:

Icing for Twelfth or Bride Cake. (No. 84.)

Let’s take a closer look. It specifies icing for Twelfth OR
Bride Cake. In other words, it refers to two SEPARATE
cakes, Twelfth AND Bride. It does NOT say, or even imply,
that the two are one and the same. That would be “Icing
for Twelfth, or Bride, Cake.” Or, “Icing for Twelfth, also known
as Bride, Cake.” You get the idea, yes?! It’s merely an Icing
for Twelfth Cake OR for Bride Cake! It’s for the one AND/OR
the other. In short, it’s icing for both.

This fact is also reiterated in the content of the icing
receipt itself. To wit, the highlighted words below:


Icing for Twelfth or Bride Cake. (No. 84.)
Take 1 lb of double refined sugar,
pounded and sifted through a sieve;
put into a pan quite free from grease,
break in the whites of six eggs, and
as much powder blue as will lie on
a sixpence; beat it well with a spattle
for ten minutes, then squeeze in the
juice of a lemon, and beat till it becomes
thick and transparent. Set the cake you
intend to ice, in an oven or warm place
for five minutes, then spread over the
top and sides with the mixture as smooth
as possible. If for a wedding cake only,
plain ice it; if for a twelfth cake,
ornament it with gum paste, or
fancy articles of any description.

(emphasis mine)

One final observation: below is the title page of Kitchiner’s
Oracle. About a third of the way down, the author mentions
that his work provides a “system of cookery for Catholic
Families.” So, were twelfth/twelfth-night cakes mainly
eaten by followers of that religion? Maybe that’s why
receipts are so hard to find?! Adds more fodder to that
burning question: Christmas. Did they or didn’t they?!
Ahh, well, that’s a whole other topic for another day.

scan0030

__________________________________

*John Farley’s book, The London Art of Cookery, was initially published
in 1783. There were numerous subsequent editions, and the one I have
is the 11th of 1807. I don’t know whether or not there was an 1800
edition, as noted on Townsend’s calendar (there very well may be).

Read Full Post »

Yep. That’s right. All hail the woman who’s largely responsible
for “inventing” our Thanksgiving holiday: Sarah Josepha Hale!
HUZZAH!

During the mid-19th century, Hale lobbied tirelessly for a national
day of thanksgiving. At the time, it was already observed somewhat
regularly in New England, but she thought it should be nation-wide.
As the first-ever female editor of Ladies’ Magazine and later, Godey’s
Lady’s Book
, Hale used her position to publish numerous editorials
promoting the idea. The New Hampshire native also wrote letters
to any and every politician she could find, including then-President
Abraham Lincoln. Her campaign finally proved successful when he
declared Thanksgiving a national holiday in 1863. However, it was
many years before the entire country embraced it. Nevertheless,
Thanksgiving has become one of America’s beloved celebrations.
And we owe it all to Hale’s incessant efforts. It’s amazing what
one person (and a woman, at that) can do!

Incidentally, Hale was quite a prolific writer. She penned a variety
of works, including cookbooks (such as The Good Housekeeper,
which was first published in 1839), numerous novels (she even
described a Thanksgiving dinner in one), and the nursery rhyme
“Mary Had a Little Lamb.”

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

Read Full Post »

I knew the book was bound to be largely incorrect in the facts
department, and probably just plain bad overall, when I read
the first sentence of its “Introduction”:

==============================
Colonial American pioneers left
diaries and journals telling tragic
stories of the deaths of nine out
of every ten early settlers.
==============================

So only one in ten lived to tell the tales of those early
years? It’s amazing, then, that any of us are even here!

Of course, this book is about the foodways of Colonial America,
which means there’s food history, receipts, and so on. Problem
is, there are signs that quality will be sorely lacking in that area,
as well. On the “Acknowledgments” page, the authors mention
they sought the “culinary expertise” of Mrs. Helen Duprey Bullock.
Contrary to popular belief, however, that particular “expertise”
is highly suspect, as seen in her past works wherein she was
unable, or unwilling, to separate historic fact from fiction.*

Nevertheless, here’s an inkling of what’s to come regarding
America’s earliest culinary endeavors:

==============================
Cookbooks from home would have
been of little use to the often illiterate
housewife, who found herself obliged
to prepare ingredients unknown to her
in England or Holland, such as corn,
pumpkin and squash.
==============================

Wait. If housewives were illiterate, why would they
bring a cookbook (that they couldn’t read) from home?

Frightening, isn’t it?! Well, buckle up for the proverbial “bumpy
ride,” because it’s only the beginning. It goes from bad to worse
to “You gotta be kidding me?!” in no time. And to think, the copy
on the end flap of the dust jacket proudly states:

==============================
Each chapter…is introduced by a lively
and authentic [emphasis mine] account
of how early Americans breakfasted,
dined, supped, drank, and entertained.
==============================

This book’s content may indeed be “lively,” but the majority
of it is anything BUT “authentic.” It’s just chock full of bizarre
assumptions, faulty conclusions, and myths masquerading as
facts. It’s amazing, even appalling, that such a book was not
only written, but also published and placed on bookshelves
around the world!

And so, what’s the title of this odd little book? It’s A Cooking
Legacy
, by Virginia T. Elverson and Mary Ann McLanahan, with
illustrations by Betty T. Duson (1975). It’s not a large book
at just 180 pages, but it’s heavily laden with inaccuracies
and myths about colonial foodways. I must say, I don’t think

I’ve ever before encountered such a gad-owful book! Well,
on second thought, I have. Several, in fact, and they are
FAR worse (more on that later) but for now, I’ll concentrate
on this particular travesty. Of course, I realize assessing
the value (or lack thereof) of a particular book is subjective.
One that I adamantly dislike may be someone else’s all-time
absolute favorite. So I try (struggle!) to keep my opinions
to myself. However, the factual content of this book is so
egregious that I couldn’t keep quiet any longer. It’s driven
me over the edge. And with “facts” like the following, can
you blame me?!

=============================
Finger bowls were used for rinsing
the mouth as well as the fingers.
=============================

For starters, I think Legacy is poorly written. Different topics
are grouped together willy-nilly in a single paragraph. I’d
read about one subject, and then suddenly, BAM, I’d meet
up with another that was either partially or wholly unrelated.
Sometimes, dissimilar ideas were even in the same sentence.

The authors also tended to mix ‘n match time periods. They’d
start in the 1600s, then jump ahead to the mid-1800s, only
to end with a vague reference to “those early American
Colonists.” It made for some major confusion as to when,
exactly, they thought a cooking method or a culinary
custom was practiced or a specific food existed.

I was constantly bemused by the liberal use of judgmental
adjectives. Dozens of examples illustrate this, including:

==============================
We can readily understand the lusty
and excessive alcoholic drinking habits
of these early Colonists…
==============================

==============================
A boiled pudding (a bland pudding
with raisins) seems to have been
preferred over the traditional…
==============================

==============================
Then into the night tumbled the
boisterous Colonials, their tongues
and bodies loosened from an evening
of heavy drinking.
==============================

==============================
The table…was as finely dressed
as those patriotic zealots who sat
about it….
==============================

Or how about the descriptive words in this passage, coupled
with some classic misconceptions:

==============================
An early pioneer home was sadly
lacking in comforts, and the family
stood while eating. Their days were
totally occupied with the necessary
tasks of survival, and there was
no time for making chairs, stools
or other creature comforts. Despite
the hardships, these stoic families
never neglected to give thanks to God
not only before meals but after as well.
==============================

Oh dear. No chairs. Or stools. And still, they constantly
thanked God for the experience. Amazing!

I was miffed that there are no footnotes in Legacy. Not one
statement is attributed to any source. What’s up with that?!
So where’d the authors get all their information? There is
a bibliography, but it’s of little use when trying to track
the path of supposed “facts” from origin to printed page.
It almost seems as if this book is just a jumble of stories
and tales that’ve been gathered from friends and family,
or even people on the street, instead of from fully-vetted
historical sources. Or perhaps, that was the plan: to compile
all the weird ‘n wacky (and untrue) stories ever told about
colonial foodways, then publish and share ‘em with the world!
But then, if that’s the case, the reader should be told.

Ahh, another amazing “fact” from the colonial era:

==============================
Little dishwashing was done in
the home because of the difficulty
of transporting water. Cooking pots
were transported downstream for
washing; this had to be done to
protect the drinking water.
==============================

Apparently, no one had any buckets for totin’ water
“back then”! And yet, big ‘n heavy cast iron cooking
pots would regularly be lugged miles down river. Ahh,
those silly, yet hearty ‘n “stoic,” Colonials!

Now, the authors of Legacy live in Texas, and I wonder if,
perhaps, that fact played a role in this mess. Not because
of the state itself (and no offense to Texans), but because

of the physical and cultural distances, conscious and not,
between it and the original 13 colonies. Works such as this
may tend to exhibit a certain disconnect between fact and
fiction on the part of the people who write them. Not to
mention the scents of Hollywood’s fantasy-land that waft
through the pages. I think it’s the case, at least in part,
of that fellow from Arizona who wrote Founding Foodies,
another book full of nonsense (more on it later, as well).

Ready for some more fakelore? Good, cuz there’s enough
to spread ’round a couple hundred acres:

==============================
Highly spiced food was popular
in all thirteen colonies…The ‘high’
taste of slightly spoiled meat was
actually enjoyed by the early settlers.
==============================

So people preferred rotten meat?! Imagine that! Guess there
was really no need for anyone to invent the refrigerator.

==============================
Supper! What is there to say about
a meal that probably did not even
exist for many settlers during
the early days of the Colonies…?
==============================

Yep, early colonists only ate two meals a day. So sad.
Except that it’s so NOT true.

==============================
When it [tea] was first introduced,
Colonists, not understanding its use,
stewed the leaves in butter, threw out
what liquid collected and munched on
the leaves. Later, when the practice
of drinking tea was understood, the
leaves were highly valued and were
used over and over.
==============================

Oh my. Where do I begin?! With the supposed “fact”
the Colonials didn’t know what to do with tea? Or that
they “munched on the leaves” as if they were a handful
of Cheetos? Oh, so many fake facts, so little time….

Of course, hilarious fakelore is only half the story, as recipes
comprise nearly three-quarters of Legacy. In fact, it contains
more than 200 newly-created recipes that are billed as being
for “modern Americans,” and that were “inspired by dishes
and beverages the authors discovered in cookbooks, family
journals, and notebooks of 125 to 250 years ago.”

Yes, dear readers you, too, can enjoy the foods of the past
just as the early American colonists did. HUZZAH!

And fortunately:

=============================
So that today’s cook may prepare
the recipes with ease, the authors
have thoroughly tested each of these
original creations [emphasis mine]
and adaptations [emphasis mine].
==============================

A few bona-fide receipts from authentic historic cookbooks
are scattered here and there throughout this book. However,
the modern adaptations that accompany them are typically
nothing like the originals. In fact, some are SO different
and SO far-fetched, that it’s almost laughable! Extra and
unnecessary ingredients, along with others that didn’t
even exist (baking powder, cornstarch, etc.), during
the colonial years, are sprinkled throughout. But hey,
at least readers were fore-warned (see above).

=============================
Most of the adaptations in this book
are based on receipts prepared for
the wealthier Colonists who could
afford exotic seasonings and the
lavish use of dairy products.
==============================

Wow. So only wealthy people could afford spices and…cows?!
Sorry, lowly farmers, no “got milk” for you!

At the same time, many of the original historic receipts are
not really “colonial,” because they’re from later time periods.
To me, the “colonial period” of this country is any time prior

to 1776 or, at the latest, 1783; in other words, when we
were a colony of Britain. And yet, many original historic
receipts offered in Legacy are from later dates, such as
1824 and 1850, which is more than one quarter and one
half, respectively, of a century AFTER the colonial period!
Not that it matters, I guess, since they’re all “adapted”
and “modernized” beyond recognition.

Let’s pause for this fine example of jumbled fakelore:

==============================
Leavened breads, or white breads,
were considered luxuries and were
made only for special occasions.
Yeast was scarce and expensive,
and so sourdough cultures, potash,
pearl ash and beer barrel ‘emptins’
were used as leavening agents.
==============================

Yeast was “scarce”?! And yet ‘emptins’ from beer barrels
were used. Um, yeah, but…oh, never mind!

Legacy’s recipe titles are fairly straightforward, as most
merely describe the dish. There’s “Rum Punch,” “Chicken
with Apples,” and “Lobster Salad.” For a few, however,
the authors show off their creative side by making up
titles at random, such as “Adela’s Flan,” “Helen’s Lace
Cookies,” and “Cleto’s Game-Bird Pie.” Naturally, I have
to wonder just who are Adela, Helen, and Cleto? Are
they perhaps members of the authors’ families?!

Pausing, again, for more fakelore:

=============================
Since washday came only approximately
once a month, it was imperative to have
a huge supply of napkins to last from one
washday to the next.
==============================

==============================
Because those elegant old pewter
tankards had to be poured into
molds, they came in only two
sizes, pints and quarts, thus
giving rise to the expression
‘Mind your P’s and Q’s.’**
==============================

==============================
Since meats and vegetables were
prepared simply, the more elaborate
kitchen tools found in early Colonial
kitchens were for the preparation
of desserts.
==============================

==============================
Silver flatware was still in short supply,
though forks were available.
==============================

If it seems this entire book is filled with nothing BUT fakelore,
well…you couldn’t be more right! I can’t say enough BAD things
about it. And there are plenty of other ghastly examples I could
share, but frankly, all of this is making my head spin. However,
I’ll leave you with a few final morsels of misguided, totally wrong,
and astonishingly incorrect information, along with this piece
of friendly advice: DON’T BELIEVE ANYTHING YOU READ
IN THIS BOOK!!!
Don’t buy it. And if you already own it,
BURN IT!
(Maybe you can start your next hearth fire with it. LOL :o )

==============================
As the earliest settlement phase drew
to an end, butter and cheese were
available to all but the very poor.
==============================

==============================
The term ‘brewing’ tea came from
the English expression for ‘brewing’
beer. As a result of high prices and
the tea strike, tea was labeled
dangerous and was thought
to cause deadly diseases. In time,
coffee became the favorite American
drink and tea survived primarily as
a medicine, quite a change from
the early ‘Revolutionary’ claims!
==============================

Ugh. My brain hurts.

Although I have this book, it is definitely NOT one that you
will find listed on any of my “Library” pages!

________________________________________
________________________________________

NOTES:

*From the full-page obituary for Mrs. Helen Duprey Bullock (1905-1995),
published in The New York Times on November 11, 1995. Apparently, she
was known for playing foot-loose ‘n fancy-free with historical receipts:

Her Williamsburg cookbook became
the bible for the preparation of food
in Williamsburg exhibitions, at least
until the 1980′s, when it was discovered
that Mrs. Bullock, an eminently practical
woman, had taken certain liberties with
the original recipes.”

In other words, she greatly altered them by “modernizing” them. It’s
also a well-known fact that she created many so-called “historical”
receipts out of thin air.

____________________

**Britisher Michael Quinion presents the final (?) word on “watching
your P’s and Q’s” in World Wide Words, his weekly e-magazine:

Investigations by the Oxford English
Dictionary in 2007 when revising
the entry turned up early examples
of the use of Ps and Qs to mean
learning the alphabet. The first
is in a poem by Charles Churchill,
published in 1763:

On all occasions next the chair
He stands for service of the Mayor,
And to instruct him how to use
His A’s and B’s, and P’s and Q’s.

The conclusion must be that this is the true origin.

________________________________________

Read Full Post »

I had an absolute blast making ice cream this past Monday eve
during the “Edible Conversations” series at Manhattan’s Roger
Smith Hotel
. The night’s session, “Ice Cream: A Global History,”
featured Laura Weiss, author of the book with the same title.
Of course, she was the star of the proceedings, and I merely
played the “sidekick” who briefly discussed and demonstrated
the 18th century method of ice cream making.

For the event, two types and flavors were shared with gathered
guests: a custard-based vanilla that I made in advance, using
a receipt (recipe) that Thomas Jefferson copied while in France;
and a simple raspberry from Eliza Leslie’s 75 Receipts for Pastry,
Cakes, and Sweetmeats
(1828), which I froze on the spot.

Incidentally, although unbeknownst to me at the time, both receipts
are included in the recipe section at the back of Weiss’ book. How
serendipitous was it that I selected those two?! I couldn’t have
planned it better. HUZZAH!

First up, making Jefferson’s receipt for “Ice Cream.” It’s custard-
based, made of egg yolks, sugar, and cream, all of which is infused
with a vanilla bean while cooking:

_________________________

NEXT: The raspberry

Read Full Post »

In my recent post wherein I shared pictures
of the peacocks at Pennsbury Manor, I also
mentioned there are many historic cookbooks
which contain receipts for cooking this exotic
bird. It would seem they were eaten often,
and were quite a popular dish, during the
Medieval and Renaissance periods. In fact,
it apparently may’ve appeared quite frequently
at King Henry VIII’s table, for there’s a receipt
in The Taste of the Fire, the little booklet about the Tudor kitchens
at Hampton Court Palace. It instructs the cook to first kill and roast
the bird, then to wrap the skin, feathers and all, around the cooked
meat before serving, so that it would look as it did when alive:

PECOK ROSTED
Take a Pecok, breke his necke, and
kutte his throte, And fle him, the skyn
and the ffethurs togidre, and the hede
still to the skyn of the nekke, And kepe
the skyn and the ffethurs hole togiders;
drawe him as an hen, And kepe the bone
to the necke hole, and roste him, And set
the bone of the necke aboue the broche,
as he was wonte to sitte a-lyve, And
abowe the legges to the body, as he
was wonte to sitte a-lyve; And whan
he is rosted ynowe, take him of, And
lete him kele; And then wynde the skyn
wit the fethurs and the taile abought
the body, And serue him forthe as he
were a-live; or elle pull him dry, And
roste him, and serue him as thou
doest a henne.

Of course, you could always just make a pie made up with peacock
meat and then stick the head and tail feathers into it:

Although they seemed to fall out of favor by the end of the 17th
century, peacock dishes were likely served now and then amongst
the well-to-do, even in this country. In fact, I understand that just
such a dish was prepared at Colonial Williamsburg not too long ago.
Unfortunately, I don’t know any of the specifics as to how it was
prepared, what receipt was used, and so forth. It certainly would
have been interesting to see!

Read Full Post »

Okay, so geese, duck, and
various other wild fowl were
probably on the table at that
now famous feast in the fall
of 1621. At least, according
to James and Patricia Scott
Deetz, authors of The Times
of Their Lives; Life, Love, and
Death in Plymouth Colony
(2000).

It’s also possible, but highly unlikely, they say, that there may’ve
been a wild turkey or two. However, the Deetzes think not, partly
because the early colonists would’ve used lightweight firearms
known as fowling pieces, and not the heavier matchlock muskets,
for their hunting activities. According to the two authors, fowling
pieces were the all-around weapon of choice. Now, I’m not exactly
sure why this matters, but there it is. Bottom line, however, as
they point out, is that turkeys were not explicitly mentioned by
anyone who wrote of the feast, either soon after or years later.

Having said that, you might be wondering, “Well, what WAS
‘explicitly mentioned’ in writings about the event?” Let’s look
again at Edward Winslow’s passage. He writes:

many of the Indians

joined the party, along with

their greatest king Massasoit…and
they went out and killed five deer,
which they brought to the plantation
and bestowed on our governor…

A-Ha! So, we can be absolutely, positively, correct and say,
without a doubt, that venison was on the menu. HUZZAH!

And so, dear readers, if you really, truly want to feast next
Thursday just like the early Plymouth colonists, then you’ll
need to serve up some deer meat. Time is passing quickly,
so better contact your butcher, or your favorite hunter, and
order up that haunch of venison now!

_________________________

Up next: Okay, venison, but no turkey. dagnabit. What else?!

Read Full Post »

Here’s one last photo from my most recent “toss or keep” trek
through my camera:

I really like these little pots. They’re just so cute! This one is fairly
small, but it’d be perfect for various tasks, whether making a fancy
sauce or simply melting a bit of butter.

I’ll probably need to have this re-tinned before I can use it, though.
Fortunately, there’s a company in New Jersey that’ll take care of
that for me. HUZZAH!

Now, if I could just remember the company’s website address…!
Hmmm, what did I do with all that information?

Read Full Post »

For some reason, I can’t seem to stop looking at, and comparing,
historic receipts (recipes) for carrot puddings. I think it’s the thrill
of the hunt. Or maybe it’s the numerous versions I’ve found. Or
perhaps it’s all the different directions each one takes me. And
then there are all the unanswered questions. Maybe it’s all of
the above! Whatever it is, it’s become a bit of an obsession.

In keeping with this carrot pudding theme, I thought I’d take
a look at a few of the receipts I found in select manuscript
cookbooks of the 18th and early 19th centuries.

First up is one from the receipt book of the Ashfield Family
of New York City and New Jersey. It was kept by the family
from the 1720s through the Revolutionary War period:

67. To Make a Carrot Pudding
Take a quart of milk and Scald it, and
Cut a towpenney [sic] white loaf in Slices.
Soak it in your milk. Great [grate]
in a whole Nutmegg, and 2 Midling
Carrots very fine. Put in a Little Salt
and the yolks of 6 Eggs and the whites
of 2 well beaten. Sweeten it to your
taste. Then make a Little fine paste
and twist it round the edge of your
dish and put in your pudding. Pour
over it half a pound of melted butter.
So bake it. When it comes out the oven,
Strew it with fine Suggar and Serve it up hot.

Of course, there are similarities between the above and the one
from Peckham’s book that we used during the Fort Lee bake oven
workshop, but there are also several differences, even within those
similarities: the amount of milk is specified; a twopenny (“towpenny”)
instead of one penny loaf is used (although, depending on the price
of grain on any given day, it’s possible they could’ve been nearly the
same size); there’s no orange flower water; the use of a whole nutmeg,
as opposed to just half; the butter, though melted, is not clarified (but
it may have been presumed that any melted butter was also clarified);
and, again, as with the Kidder receipt that I used at The Conference
House
, it calls for separate yolks and whites, rather than whole eggs.

Another aspect is that the two receipts (Ashfield and Peckham’s) are,
in a way, of British origin. The latter is from a cookbook published
in England, and the former is from a manuscript kept by a family
living in a British colony. Which makes me wonder: Was the Ashfield
receipt taken directly from Peckham’s book and then maybe altered?
Was it even based on it in any way? The Ashfields lived first in New
York City and then New Jersey, so goods from abroad were accessible,
including books published in England. Or did it come to the Ashfields
via someone else who had seen the British book? Someone else who
possibly changed sections? Or perhaps mis-copied or even mis-read
a sentence or two? Or maybe it’s source is an entirely different book?
Or…who knows? Oh, the questions are endless!

Here’s another manuscript receipt, with perhaps a more Southern take,
as the writer lived in the lowlands of South Carolina. It’s from Harriott
Pinckney Horry’s (1748-1830) personal receipt book, which she began
keeping in 1770:

Carrot Pudding
Take a large Carrot, boil it Tender
then set it by to be cold and grate
it through a hair sieve very fine,
then put in half a pound of melted
Butter beaten with Eight Eggs leaving
out half the Whites, two or three
Spoonfulls of Sack and Orange
flower Water, half a pint of good
thick cream, a little grated Bread,
a Nutmeg and a little salt, sweeten
it to your tast, and make it of the
thickness of an Orange Pudding.

Again, there are similarities and differences between the above
and the others (Peckham’s and Kidder’s). First, a major difference
amongst all these is that, thusfar, Kidder’s is the only one that calls
for Naples Biskets. I wonder if that fact says something, perhaps,
about Kidder himself and his profession? After all, he was a baker
and pastry maker by trade. Another difference is that the above
calls for only one carrot, not two; but then, it does specify one
“large.” In many other ways, however, the Horry manuscript version
is most similar to Kidder’s: the carrot is to be boiled and strained;
sack and Orange flower water are used; there’s a pint of cream;
and the eggs are separated. However, the butter is again melted,
and a nutmeg is used. I found it interesting, too, that nutmeg is
used in all the receipts we’ve looked at so far, except for Kidder’s.
What’s up with that?! Perhaps he just didn’t care for the taste?
Maybe he felt it wasn’t something he needed to specify? Or
perhaps he was leaving the spice choice up to the cook?
Or…something!

So, as I said previously, there certainly are alot of carrot pudding
receipts in historic cookbooks. They’re all pretty much the same,
and yet, they’re all a bit different. Hmmm…what else is out there?!
Stay tuned, there’s more.

____________________

sources:
1.) The Ashfield Family Receipt Book was published as Pleasures of Colonial Cooking,
by the New Jersey Historical Society, Newark, NJ, 1982.
2.) The Complete English Cook…, 2nd Edition, by Ann Peckham, London, England, circa 1767.
3.) Harriott Pinckney Horry’s receipt book was published as A Colonial Plantation Cookbook, edited by Richard J. Hooker, Columbia, South Carolina, 1984.
4.) E. Kidder’s Receipts of Pastry and Cookery, by Edward Kidder, London,
England, 1740

___________________________________

NEXT: published and manuscript receipts of the early 19th century.

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