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Archive for the ‘historic cookbooks’ Category

It’s been nearly a week ago now, but I was once again
cooking on the hearth of The Israel Crane House this
past Sunday, October 7. I tell you, it was mighty good
to be back! HUZZAH! And since Fall was, and is, in full
swing, I designated it “Apple Day” in the Crane kitchen.
Thus, I prepared and cooked several dishes that contain
this fall staple, including the obligatory apple fritters and
one that I’ve been meaning to try for quite some time,
a sliced apple pudding. Of course, I followed my usual
“go-to” receipt for the fritters; you can find it here. As
for the pudding, I used this one from Mary Randolph’s
The Virginia Housewife (1824):

Sliced Apple Pudding.
Beat six eggs very light, add
a pint of rich milk, pare some
apples or peaches—slice them
thin, make the eggs and milk
into a tolerably thick batter
with flour, add a small cup
of melted butter, put in the
fruit, and bake it in a deep
dish—eat with sugar, butter,
and nutmeg.

As usual, having opportunities to take photos were few
and far between. However, as you’ll see below, I did get
several. In fact, I was SO excited about making the apple
pud, that when it was cooked and ready to eat, I made
a point of snapping its picture, right in front of several
visitors. Yes, naughty me! But please excuse; I wanted
it sooooo badly. And then, a visitor offered to take a shot
of me with my pud. HUZZAH! Of course, then it was back
in the drawer for Mr. Camera!

________________________

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This past weekend I trekked up to Ft. Lee to attend another
Historic Foodways Symposium sponsored by Deb Peterson.
As usual, it was an absolutely fantastic two days of lectures
and hands-on cooking. The focus of the program was “Sugar,
Spice, Isinglass & Cakes, Great & Small.”

On Saturday, attendees heard information-packed lectures
from Deb, Mercy Ingraham, Clarissa Dillon, and Cate Crown.
Then Sunday was the day for cooking out at the site’s bake
oven and fire pit. Using receipts (recipes) from various historic
cookbooks, we worked on numerous dishes that were either
baked in the oven or boiled over the fire. Everyone was able
to try their hand at any dish and to move around to see what
was being done for each. And so, under Cate’s watchful eyes,
participants worked on small Pound Cakes, Dutch Cakes, and
apple and “Ananas, or Pine-Apple” tarts. Puddings were King
at Clarissa’s station, including Suet, Wine, and Chocolate. She
supervised the making of “A French flummery,” as well. Spices
were ground to make “Kitchen Pepper” at Mercy’s table. And
Deb instructed folks on making batches of two sugary treats,
“Spanish Nut” (cacao beans) and lemon ‘n orange “Bomboons.”

Of course, when all was said and done and baked and boiled,
the consuming began. And believe me, it took no time for each
and every dish to disappear! In fact, as you’ll see below, I have
far more photos of the preparations then the finished cakes and
puddings. Ahh, well, maybe next time!
(Which, by the way, we all hope there IS a next time, at some
point, in one form or another. Pleeeeeeeease, Dearest Deb!)

Nevertheless, I think it’s safe to say, on behalf of all those who
participated, that an educational, awesome, and simply glorious
time was had by all. HUZZAH!

_________________________

The oven is fired up:

Cate Crown, Baker Extraordinaire:

Simply awesome!

Three bakers, sharing baking tips…or perhaps a bit of gossip?!
(Paul Gasparo, Cate, and Neal sorry-I-didn’t-get-his-surname):

Deb Peterson, Official Symposium Wizard:

Mixing up the tart crust:

Patting it down in pie pans:

Apples for one of three tarts:

Done and ready for baking:

Slicing up ananas or pine-apples for the other two tarts:

Cooking ‘em down (the apples were not cooked):

Filling the other tart shells:

FIRE!

WOW!

Love this! HUZZAH!

John Muller, Director Extraordinaire of Historic Fort Lee:

The suet pudding, mixed and ready to go:

Clarissa Dillon shares the finer points of puddings, boiled:

Again, the Suet Pud:

Which was placed on the pudding cloth:

And wrapped:

Then tied:

Ready to go:

And into the pot:

Look! The oven is ready. HUZZAH! How do we know?

Because the interior bricks are now white, whereas they
started out covered in black soot:

Deb discusses the making of “Bomboons”:

TA-DA! It’s a sugar loaf!

And yes, the proper term is loaf, NOT cone:

Breaking up and pounding out the sugar:

Roasting the “Spanish Nuts” (aka cacao beans):

The beans, down to the nib stage, and then pounded:

Cooking a mixture of pounded nibs and sugar:

Rolling it out on a buttered plate. Better do so quickly,
though, before it all hardens!:

Chocolate Bomboons:

Mercy’s spices:

Nutmegs and mace:

Rolling out the dough for the little cakes (which are essentially
what we now call cookies):

The oven is at the desired temperature (about 450 degrees).
Time to clear out all the coals and ashes:

Once cleared, the floor is swabbed with a damp cloth, and
the door is put in place to hold in the heat until all dishes
can go in together:

The Pound Cake batter had to be beaten for 1 1/2 hours.
Thankfully, no one person wore out an arm as everyone
took a turn:

Currants were added to the batter, which was then scooped
into little tins:

Citron was minced for the Chocolate Pudding:

Into the mixture it goes:

And the entire batter is poured into the pudding cloth:

And another pud for the pot:

Finally, all the dishes to be baked in the brick oven were
prepared, and they started to go in:

Paul slides a tart deep into the oven:

TA-DA! The baked Apple Tart:

Baked Wine Pudding:

A yummy threesome consisting of a Pound Cake, the Wine Pud,
and a Pine-Apple Tart:

The boiled Chocolate Pudding:

And lastly, the marvelous boiled Suet Pudding:

______________________________

NOTE: If anyone would like the receipts we used, just let me know.

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During the recent “Spring Celebration” at the Queens County
Farm Museum
, I was busy at the hearth of the site’s Adriance
Farmhouse. While a variety of modern-type activities, ranging
from sheep shearing and hayrides to music and a plant sale,
were taking place throughout the complex, I offered a few

of a more historical nature in the Farmhouse kitchen. There,
the main focus was the Mighty Cow and the role she played
in the life of a typical 18th century farm family during the
Spring months and beyond. Thus, we churned butter and
drank the resulting buttermilk, made cheese, and cooked
up dozens and DOZENS of yummy Curd Fritters. Visitors
also enjoyed butter that I’d churned previously (with its
buttermilk, of course) and cheese that I’d made. Oh, and
mustn’t forget, we also made toast.

Now, the attendance that day at the Farm may’ve been
“normal,” but for me, it was downright amazing! I was
just blown away by the number of people who stopped
by to see what I was doing at the hearth. And they just
kept coming! It reminded me of my days at Conner Prairie
long ago. It also created quite a multi-ring circus. Whether
slicing bread, offering butter churning hints, flipping curd
fritters, or warming milk for the cheese, I was kept busy
non-stop. At times, it seemed nigh overwhelming, but
thankfully, I hung in there! And I had some marvelous
conversations with folks, both singly and in groups.
Overall, I’d say it was a very productive AND highly
enjoyable day! HUZZAH!

As for photos, well…unfortunately, finding a few spare
moments for taking any was difficult. Hence, what you
see below is it. Maybe I’ll get more next time? Or not!
Oh, and for those interested, the Curd Fritter receipt
(recipe) follows at the end. Enjoy!

____________________

The receipt I used both here and at The Crane House (see
previous post) is from Eliza Smith’s cookbook The Compleat
Housewife
(1727):

To make Curd Fritters.
Take a handful of curds, a handful
of flour, ten eggs well beaten and
strained, some sugar, some cloves,
mace, nutmeg, and a little saffron;
stir all well together, and fry them
in very hot beef-dripping; drop
them in the pan by spoonfuls;
stir them about till they are
of a fine yellow brown; drain
them from the suet, and scrape
sugar on them, when you serve
them up.

Now, there’s one line in the above receipt that I think may
be a mistake, as in a typo. Or perhaps, it’s the result of just
plain ol’ poor editing. Maybe it should even be eliminated
entirely. Whatever it is, I believe the words:

…stir them about till they
are of a fine yellow brown;

should follow, or be combined, with:

…a little saffron; stir all
well together.

It just doesn’t make sense as it is. Besides, I found a great
co-supporter, if you will, of this theory: Hannah Glasse. You
see, she stole, er, borrowed Smith’s receipt for her The Art
of Cookery, made
[sic] Plain and Easy (1747), In addition
to making the whole a bit more concise, she removed
the offending sentence! To wit:

Curd Fritters.
Having a Handful of Curds, and
a Handful of Flour, and ten Eggs,
well beaten and strained, some
Sugar, Cloves, Mace, and Nutmeg
beat, a little Saffron; stir all well
together, and fry them quick, and
of a fine light-brown.

See? That seemingly extraneous, nonsensical set of words
is gone, and no harm done. Way to go, Hannah! HUZZAH!

_________________________

NOTE: I’ve made Curd Fritters many times. For more in-depth
information on this delectable delight, see this page and then
this one for details about a specific ingredient.

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We had a great group of folks
at the recent (April 15) hearth
cooking class at the Israel Crane
House
. Everyone worked diligently
on all the various dishes, and I think
it’s safe to say that a fun time was
had by all. Of course, the absolute
BEST part was sitting down to enjoy
a lovely meal of delectable goodies
straight from the open fire. HUZZAH!

So, without further ado, here are a few scenes, and some
receipts (recipes), from that day. Let the fun begin!

First up, from Amelia Simmons’ American Cookery (1796):

To stuff and roast four Chickens.
Six ounces salt pork, half loaf bread,
six ounces butter, 3 eggs, a handful
of parsley shredded fine, summer-
savory, sweet marjoram; mix the
whole well together, fill and sew
up; roast one hour, baste with
butter, and dust on flour.

Next, from the Ashfield Family’s (of New York and New Jersey)
manuscript cookbook (1720s-1780s)*:

81. To make a Tansey to Bake
Take 18 Eggs and beat them well.
Put to them a quart of Cream and
the Crumb of a Stale penny Loaf
grated fine, one Nutmegg grated,
a little Salt, a Spoonfull of Orange
flower water, as much juice of Spinage
and Tansey as will make it green.
Sweeten it to your tast and put it
in your dish. Strew over it a quarter
of a pound of melted Butter. Put it
into a moderate Oven. Half an hour
will bake it. When you take it out,
Strew it with loaf Sugar and garnish
your dish with Oranges cut in Quarters.

Then it was on to:

Peeres in Confyt. XX. VI. XII.
Take peeres and pare hem clene.
take gode rede wyne &. mulberes
oper saundres and seep pe peeres
perin & whan pei buth ysode,
take hem up, make a syryp of
wyne greke. oper vernage with
blaunche powdour oper white
sugur and powdour gyngur & do
the peres perin. seep it a lytel
& messe it forth.

from The Forme of Cury, the published version of the manuscript
compiled by the Master Cooks at the Court of England’s King
Richard II (1399-1420):

Ahhh, there’s just nothing like a crackling fire:

Finding an original, historic receipt for cornbread has always
been mighty difficult. So I usually fall back on my recollections
of what we did when I worked at Conner Prairie long ago.
Thus, our somewhat “mo-dern” cornbread (made according
to my own recipe
)**:

In addition, we cooked one of my favorites, “Salmon in Cases,”
courtesy of Hannah Glasse’s The Art of Cookery, made [sic] Plain
and Easy
. We also churned butter.

Finally, our sumptuous mid-day meal is served. Let’s eat!:

‘Til next time!

_________________________

* Published as Pleasures of Colonial Cooking, by The New Jersey
Historical Society, Newark, NJ (1982).
**There’s been a discussion about this very subject on one
of Plimoth Plantation’s blogs. I wanted to provide a link to it,
but, dagnabit, I can’t remember which one it was!

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My “Big Week” of hearth cooking (March 20 to April 1, when I had
one event after another) finally came to a close at the same spot
where it all began: the Israel Crane House. That Sunday was billed
as “Family Day,” since all of the properties owned by The Montclair
Historical Society (MHS) were now officially open for the new season.
And so I decided, in honor of this auspicious occasion, to cook an
old, and a new, favorite dish: a “Potatoe [sic] Pudding”; and more
“Salmon in Cases.” I also used up a bit of bread (for toast), along
with the fresh batch of butter that’d been churned earlier in the
week (all courtesy of Homeschool Day, doncha know!). Oh, and
a few remaining bites of my Seed Cake. Of course, as usual,
I brought in all this food, but left empty-handed. HUZZAH!

Okay, here we go…

Everything’s set out and ready:

the potato pudding’s prepped and ready to bake:

The receipt for my “Potatoe [sic] Pudding” came from the Leffert’s
manuscript cookbook. This little volume is part of the collection
of Lefferts Family Papers located at the Brooklyn Historical Society

(BHS) of Brooklyn, NY. Most likely, it was written at some point
in the 1830s. I’ve visited BHS several times to study this small
historical document, and it’s quite fascinating (more on it later).
In addition, when I did hearth cooking at the Lefferts historic
house (in Brooklyn’s Prospect Park) several years ago, I made
numerous dishes found therein. So it was great fun to make this
baked pudding again!

Here’s the receipt, taken from the “Puddings and Custards” section
of the manuscript:

33. Potatoe Puding.
Boil the potatoes very dry skin them and
rub them through a sieve to 1 lb. of potato
add 1 pt cream 7 eggs 6 oz. of butter
lemon juice sugar and nutmeg to your
taste, bake it with or without paste.*

TA-DA! It’s nearly done.

Visitors to the House that afternoon ate up my “Potatoe Pud”
so quickly, that I wasn’t able to get a photo of the finished
dish. dagnabit.

Now, regular readers will recall my recent experiments in cooking
“Salmon in Cases” in reflector ovens. Well, it was so much fun,
I wanted to do it again. In fact, by this time I’d also decided that
we’d make them during our hearth cooking class on April 15, so
I figured a little more practice couldn’t hurt! In any event, I made
them, again following Hannah Glasse’s receipt from her cookbook
The Art of Cookery, made [sic] Plain and Easy (1747).

Cut your Salmon into little Pieces…

…butter the Inside of the Paper well…

…season it with Pepper, Salt and Nutmeg…

…fold the Paper so as nothing can come out, then lay them on
a Tin Plate to be baked…a Tin Oven before the Fire does best.

What fun! HUZZAH!

_______________

*NOTE: Most all the receipts in the Lefferts book are written in pen.
However, here the word “paste” is written in pencil. That one word
was probably added later. Also, on the page where this receipt appears,
it is written as
“28. Potato Pudding.”

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After spending a day happily sharing the joys of hearth
cooking with a gaggle of Homeschoolers (and eating the
results) at The Israel Crane House, my next Big Event was
to do basically more of the same with about 60 teachers
at the Queens County Farm Museum (QFM). I had devised
a “menu” for the QFM event about a month earlier, and so
I knew I needed to prepare several items a day or two
in advance, including baking a batch of Naples Biskets.
I also had a Seed Cake to make for the Culinary Historians
of New York (CHNY) program that was to take place the day
after my adventures at the Crane House. And believe me,
scheduling all these required cooking tasks during that
hectic week was vital! Thus, I spent that Sunday and
Monday baking both the Biskets and the Cake.

TA-DA! The Naples Biskets:

Hmmm, do I see a Carrot Pudding in my future?:

Naples Biskets were typically made to be used in other dishes.
However, I did find awhile back an instance in a period novel
where they were eaten by themselves. And although receipts
for Naples Biskets are ubiquitous, they also tend to be quite
different from one another. I have two that I frequently use,
and both are unique. The one below is what I employed this
round. It’s taken from John Nott’s The Cooks and Confectioners
Dictionary
, (1726, 3rd edition):

To make Naples Biskets.
Take a Pound and half of fine Flour,
and as much double-refined Sugar,
twelve Eggs, three Spoonfuls of
rose-water, and an Ounce and half
of Carraway-seeds finely powdered,
mix them all well together with Water;
then put them into tin-plates, and bake
them in a moderate Oven, dissolve some
Sugar in Water, and glaze them over.

As for the CHNY program, it was to feature Anne Willan, who’s
written a book based on the vast collection of historic cookbooks
she and her husband have acquired through the years. In keeping
with that “history” theme, original receipts selected from works
in the Willan’s collection were sent out to those who’d be creating
the evening’s refreshments. Before seeing all of them, I picked
the one for Seed Cake. I’ve made them before, so I figured it’d
be fairly quick ‘n easy, especially considering the somewhat
limited time I’d have that week.

Unfortunately, this is the only picture I have of my Seed Cake:

Below is the receipt. It’s from The Compleat Housewife,
by E. Smith (1727):

To make a fine Seed Cake or Nun’s Cake
Take four pounds of your finest flour,
and three pounds of double-refin’d
sugar beaten and sifted, mix them
together, and dry them by the fire
till you prepare your other materials.
Take four pounds of butter, beat it
in your hands till it is very soft like
cream, then beat thirty-five eggs,
leave out sixteen whites, and strain
out the treddles of the rest, and beat
them and the butter together till all
appears like butter; put in four or five
spoonfuls of rose or orange-flower-
water, and beat it again; then take
your flour and sugar, with six ounces
of carraway-seeds, and strew it in
by degrees, beating it up all the time
for two hours together; you may put
in as much tincture of cinamon or
ambergrease as you please; butter
your hoop, and let it stand three
hours in a moderate oven.

Now, I’ve made a few Seed Cakes in the past, and I’ve always
used a receipt in Hannah Glasse’s The Art of Cookery (1747),
which, coincidentally, just happens to be an exact match to
the one above! So I announced to everyone that perhaps
Ms. Willan had made a mistake, that it should be attributed
to Glasse and not Smith. Well, not so fast! Turns out this is,
most definitely, courtesy of Smith’s book; seems it’s Glasse
who stole, er, “borrowed,” it from her. Oops. Silly me!

However, soon after I felt somewhat vindicated when I noticed
that the receipt Willan sent for “A Crookneck or Winter Squash
Pudding,” which she stated is from Lucy Emerson’s cookbook,
The New England Cookery (1808), is indeed a mistake. You see,
Emerson plagiarized, lock, stock ‘n barrel, Amelia Simmons’
American Cookery (1796). Tsk! (And an “oops, silly me”
for Ms. Willan.)

__________________________________

NEXT: Teachers and Carrot Puddings at the Queens County
Farm Museum and a return to the Crane House

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Now that I’ve gotten a bit o’ rest after a busy week and have
done things like cleaned up kitchen messes and organized
my photos, I can now get back to blogging. HUZZAH!

Besides, a report on my most recent hearth cooking adventures is
long overdue. And there were several during the week of March 26
to April 1. Three, to be exact; well, four, if you count making a dish
for the Culinary Historians of New York’s (CHNY) program. In any
event, it began with Homeschool Day at the Israel Crane House,
followed by CHNY, then a Teachers Professional Development
Workshop at the Queens County Farm Museum, and finally,
it ended with a return to the Crane House. Whew!

My Big Week was filled with varied and numerous preparations,
as well. It seemed that I was constantly slicing, mixing, mashing,
cooking, and/or baking something. Not to mention all the planning
that’d been done days, even weeks, previously, including deciding
what dishes to make, selecting the receipts (recipes) to be used,
and developing the menus for each particular hearth cooking
session. Then throw in all the scurrying from one grocery store
to another to yet another, as I attempted to procure the required
ingredients for most of the dishes. Ahh, what a life: keeps me busy
and outta trouble. Besides, I absolutely love it! HUZZAH!

Okay. Onward. Let the hearth cooking adventures begin!

First up, I headed to the Crane House on Tuesday for the semi-annual
Homeschool Day. I had a fantastic time with all the young’uns, as we
learned the secrets of hearth cooking (with a few chores thrown in,

just for good measure, of course). We made toast and ate it with
pre-churned butter on top, as we churned some new. Then we fried
up a bit o’ salt pork, which greased the pan for lots of subsequent
Indian Slapjacks, made according to a receipt from Amelia Simmons’
American Cookery (1796) (it follows the photos, below).

____________________

Here is the receipt from Simmons’ American Cookery (1796):

Indian Slapjack.
One quart milk, 1 pint of Indian meal,
4 eggs, 4 spoons of flour, little salt,
beat together, baked on griddles, or
fry in a dry pan, or baked in a pan
which has been rub’d with suet,
lard or butter.

__________________________________
NEXT: Seed Cakes and Carrot Puddings

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As mentioned previously, the definition of “tin oven” in the glossary
of Prospect Books’ facsimile of The Art of Cookery, made [sic] Plain
and Easy
, by Hannah Glasse (1747), refers to the book’s page 91.
All the receipts on that page, which is one in a group of about 10,
are for fish. These pages, together with 32 others that contain
receipts for everything from soups to puddings to vegetables,
comprise the chapter entitled “For a Fast-Dinner, a Number of
good Dishes, which you may make use of for a Table at any
other Time.” In other words, all are dishes for those assorted
and numerous fast (meatless) days (such as Lent). Naturally,
as author Glasse points out, they could certainly be prepared
for any meal at any time.

Now, at first, I wondered, how is fish cooked in a tin reflector
oven? Do you spit it? However, fish tend to be rather thin, so
won’t it fall apart too easily? Or maybe
you simply tie it to the spit? Sounds
do-able, but seems a bit risky. I then
decided to return to the source, to
look closely at the specific receipt
(“Salmon in Cases”) referred to in
the glossary’s definition of “tin oven.”
A-Ha! I soon discovered that it doesn’t
involve cooking a whole fish! It merely
calls for pieces of fish to be wrapped in paper (“in cases”),
then placed on a tin plate and cooked in “a Tin Oven before
the Fire.”

OK. But, wait a minute. How do you cook a plate of anything,
let alone fish, in a reflector oven? Balance it on the spit? Seems
unlikely (and unwieldy!). Set in on the oven’s floor? That’d work,
I suppose, but won’t it be too low, in relation to the fire? OR,
perhaps a tin oven with a shelf would work? The type that’s
also set before the fire and is used for baking? The thing is,
the definition (mentioned above) didn’t include those. Does
that mean they didn’t exist in the mid-18th century? Or were
they just not widely used? It does seem, however, that if one
type of tin oven was available, then other kinds would’ve
been, as well.

Of course, the best way to find answers
to these questions was to conduct a few
experiments. Shortly thereafter, I did
just that, while cooking at the hearth
of The Israel Crane House. I made up
six (6) little “cases” of salmon, and
cooked half in the tin reflector oven
and half in the “baking” tin oven.

Now, unfortunately, I didn’t have any tin
plates, so I “cheated” and used a small store-bought toaster
oven aluminum baking sheet. I then put this “plate” of fish
on the bottom or floor of the reflector and on the upper shelf
of the other. I must say, it was quite exciting, and I eagerly
awaited the results!

Before I share my pictures of the entire process, I want to add
that the Crane House’s tin reflector oven is in good condition,
and is nice ‘n shiny. However, the shelved-tin oven is the exact
opposite; in fact, it’s downright grungy. I used it anyway, and,
bottom line, both worked really well. The only difference was
that the batch cooked in the shelved-oven took a bit longer.
I imagine, if it were as clean ‘n shiny as the other, the cooking
times would’ve been identical (or nearly so).

Here, now, my photos. Hannah Glasse’s receipt “Salmon
in Cases,” from her book The Art of Cookery, follows.

_______________

The salmon; I chose these steaks largely because I figured
they’d be easier to cut into uniformly-sized pieces. The store
had fillets, as well, but they were much larger, overall, and
the thickness of each was rather uneven. Of course, in the
end, it didn’t really matter, because I had to cut it up in small
pieces in order to ferret out a few elusive bones:

The salmon was cut up into pieces:

Several all-white paper bags became the “cases,” and each
sheet was generously buttered:

Salt, pepper, and nutmeg were mixed with the salmon, which
was then divided amongst the three papers:

The papers, with their salmon, were folded into neat little packets:

My “reasonable facsimile” of a tin plate (?!):

Just before everything was ready to be set before the fire,
melted butter was poured, and bread crumbs sprinkled,
over all the packets:

The Crane House’s tin reflector oven:

The “plate,” with its packets, was set on the floor of the reflector oven:

All was set before the fire:

Notice how the fire reflected off the back of the oven; when
I saw that, I knew for certain the fish would cook beautifully,
even though it was “way down” on the oven’s floor:

Lookin’ good!

Mmmmm…salmon, cooked to perfection:

__________

Following the exact same process with the second batch:

The baking style tin oven:

All set ‘n ready to cook:

Another successful round of “Salmon in Cases”:

As you see, fish can be cooked, and cooked well, in different
types of tin ovens. Both of my little experiments was a huge
success! And the final results were mighty delicious. HUZZAH!

_______________

Here is the receipt from The Art of Cookery, made [sic] Plain
and Easy
, by Hannah Glasse (London, 1747):

Salmon in Cases.
Cut your Salmon into little Pieces,
such as will lay rolled in half Sheets
of Paper; season it with Pepper, Salt
and Nutmeg, butter the Inside of the
Paper well, fold the Paper so as nothing
can come out, then lay them on a Tin
Plate to be baked, pour a little melted
Butter over the Papers, and then
Crumbs of Bread all over them. Don’t
let your Oven be too hot, for fear of
burning the Paper; a Tin Oven before
the Fire does best. When you think
they are enough, serve them up; just
as they are, there will be Sauce enough
in the Papers.

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A few weeks ago, I began considering
what dish to prepare during the annual
Presidents’ Day festivities held this past
Monday at the Israel Crane House. Before
long, it hit me: a Washington Cake! It’s
perfect for a day that celebrates, at least
in part, the birthday of the man who led
us to victory in the War for Independence
and who was the very first President of
our brand new nation: namely, George Washington. Nothing
could be better! HUZZAH!

Now, I’ve made a few Washington Cakes before, including
one during a Fireside Feasts session years ago at Brooklyn’s
Wyckoff Farmhouse Museum. At that time, we used the receipt
given below, which is one of two for such cakes in Catharine
Rapelye Wyckoff’s (of Flatlands, Long Island, NY) manuscript
cookbook. As I recall, it turned out well, was quite tasty, and
every last crumb disappeared quickly:

Washington Cake
1/2 lb of butter 3/4 lb of Sugar
1 lb of flour 4 Eggs coffee cup
Cream pearlash. Spice. fruit

However, I wanted to try another receipt this time. Besides,
there’s a slight problem with the Wyckoff manuscript receipts:
both are circa 1855, which is later than I’d like. So, I began
to do some research, to see if I could find any earlier versions.

Of course, Washington Cakes are strictly of the 19th century.
They began to appear at some point after our First President’s
death (1799), when someone apparently thought it’d be a good
idea to honor him by either taking an already tried ‘n true cake,
or creating an entirely new one, and naming it after him. Based
on the make-up of the various receipts I found, I tend to think
it’s most likely the former, because it’s similar to the so-called
“Great Cakes” of past centuries. In fact, with its standard cake
ingredients, fruit, and assorted spices, most Washington Cakes
are highly reminiscent of your basic everyday, run-of-the-mill
cakes of the Medieval era. What’s even more interesting is that

not only do these cakes hark back to Medieval times, but they’re
also very similar to receipts, particularly those for Great Cakes,
in Martha Washington’s own manuscript cookery book. A work,
as you may know, whose origins are medieval! And so, I have
to wonder, were the creators of the Washington Cakes aware
of that? Did they make a deliberate and conscious decision
to devise just such medieval-like cakes? Surely, it can’t just
be a coincidence. Or can it? But…how? I tell you, I wish I had
the answers to all these questions!

However, there’s a slight glitch in my theory. You see, I did
find several other Washington Cake receipts, including three
in published sources and three in manuscript cookbooks. All
but two* contained fruit and spices, and often specific ones.
Two exceptions to this were, surprisingly, the printed versions!
I was a bit puzzled by this. Did the manuscript writers insert
the spices and fruit on their own? Did they copy the similar
fruit ‘n spice printed versions? Or did they possibly refer to
a printed receipt that I have yet to find? Once again, all are
intriguing, and at this point, unanswered, questions.

Lastly, there is one specific ingredient in all of these cakes
that sets them apart from those of more ancient times. It’s
one that makes them truly “modern” confections of the 19th
century. And that one ingredient is what was then a relatively
new “invention”: the chemical leavener known as pearl-ash.
Technically known was potassium carbonate, it was also
called pot-ash and was the forerunner of today’s common
baking soda.

So, when all was said and done, which receipt did I use this
past Monday? I chose that of a woman who lived essentially
in my neighborhood, in my own backyard, back in the 1800s.
I made my Washington Cake from the following receipt from
the handwritten household book of Mrs. Lefferts of Flatbush,
Long Island, NY (circa 1838?):

Washington Cake
19. 1 lb of Flour 1lb of Sugar ¾ lb butter
4 Eggs 2 lb raisins half a pint of milk
a teaspoon of pearlash one glass of wine
one of Brandy two nutmegs two
spoonsfull of cinamon and one of cloves

And it was mighty good! HUZZAH!
____________________

_________________________

*The two published cookbooks with Washington Cake receipts
that do NOT contain fruit or spices were Eliza Leslie’s
Directions
for Cookery, in all its Various Branches, (1837/1840) and Lettice
Bryan’s
The Kentucky Housewife (1839). In addition, Mrs. Bryan
uses the possessive form in the title of hers, as in “Washington’s
Cake,” as opposed to just the “Washington Cake” of the others.

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