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The hearth cooking class held at The Israel Crane House
this past Saturday was a tremendous success! HUZZAH!
We had a full roster of folks who eagerly participated in
the preparation, the cooking, and, of course, the EATING

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of the dishes that comprised our “Simple Mid-day Meal.”
The menu was designed to be appropriate for this winter
season, and its contents were concocted in accordance
with original receipts from several historic cookbooks.

Of course, as usual, my opportunities for picture-taking
were limited. You’ll find a few below, however, along
with the corresponding receipts and their sources.

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The central dish of our meal was a meat pie, courtesy
of Mrs. Lettice Bryan’s The Kentucky Housewife (1839):

A Chicken Pie.
Take two small chickens, (no other sort
being fit for a dish pie) cut them up in
small pieces, and season them with salt
and pepper. Line a deep dish with puff
paste, roll out another sheet tolerably
thin, and cut it into small squares; put
the chickens and dumplings in the dish,
in alternate layers; put in a pint of water
and four ounces of butter, that has been
rolled in flour, and broken up, put a paste
over the top, ornament it handsomely
round the edge with scolloped or
bake it in a moderate oven.

Beautiful!

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Into the bake kettle:

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After about an hour…Wowza!

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Simply put, this pie was mighty tasty and absolutely, downright
AWESOME! I’ve made it before, long ago, but WOW! I’d forgotten
just how good it is. And even though we suddenly realized after
all was said and done that we’d forgotten to put in the water, it
didn’t seem to matter. Definitely, this Chicken Pie gets the Crane
House Seal of Deliciousness. HUZZAH!

Next, from The Virginia Housewife (1824), by Mary Randolph:

Sweet Potatos [sic] Broiled.
Cut them across without peeling, in slices
half an inch thick, broil them on a griddle,
and serve then with butter in a boat.

Our sliced sweet taters were broiled both on a griddle hung
above open flames (below, left) and on a gridiron placed atop
hot coals (see the latter farther down this page*):

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A beet dish (seen to the right above, during the “stew” stage),
which was made per directions that’re also found in The Kentucky
Housewife
. I just love the final sentence in this receipt, wherein
the author tells how to store and preserve this root vegetable
for the winter:

Beets, Stewed.
Having boiled them till nearly tender,
scrape off the skin, cut the beets in
thick slices, put them in a stew-pan
with a little salt, pepper, vinegar, and
a good slice of butter, rolled in flour;
stew them a few minutes, and serve
them up with the gravy. Beets keep
well through the winter, buried in
heaps in the garden.

There’s nothing better, and more historically-realistic, than
multiple dishes cooking together above the flames or over
hot coals out on the hearth. Now, THAT’S a meal! HUZZAH!
(*more sweet potato slices are broiling on the gridiron)

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We also made a “pine-apple” tart, using the following receipt
from The Country Housewife and Lady’s Director…Part II (1732),
by Richard Bradley (our “pine-apple” pieces are stewing in the
kettle in the lower left, above
):

To Make a Tart of the Ananas, or Pine-Apple.
From Barbadoes.

Take Pine-Apple, and twist off its Crown:
then pare it free from the Knots, and
cut it in Slices about half an Inch thick;
then stew it with a little Canary Wine,
or Madera Wine, and some Sugar, till it
is thoroughly hot, and it will distribute
its Flavour to the Wine much better than
any thing we can add to it. When it is as
one would have it, take it from the Fire;
and when it is cool, put it in to a sweet
Paste, with its Liquor, and bake it gently,
a little while, and when it comes from the
Oven, pour Cream over it, (if you have it)
and serve either hot or cold.

Our lovely, mighty tasty, Tart of the Ananas:

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The Tart is served:

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The pastes, or crusts, for both the Chicken Pie and the Tart were
perfect. They were light, flaky, and flavorful, and our cooks did
a fantastic job. I must say, it’s always amazing (to me, at least)
what can be accomplished without modern “stuff.”

And lastly, we made a chocolate beverage using two different
receipts. The first is from the 17th century and can be found
in Sophie and Michael Coe’s The True History of Chocolate (an
excellent book, by the way!). The second is from Lydia Child’s
The American Frugal Housewife (1833, 12th edition).

St. Disdier’s Chocolate
Recipe 1 (“very good”)
2 lb prepared cacao
1 ½ lb cassonade (sugar)
6 drachm powdered vanilla
4 drachm powdered cinnamon

Chocolate.
Many people boil chocolate in a coffee-pot;
but I think it is better to boil it in a skillet,
or something open. A piece of chocolate
about as big as a dollar is the usual
quantity for a quart of water; but some
put in more, and some less. When it boils,
pour in as much milk as you like and let
them boil together three or four minutes.
It is much richer with the milk boiled in
it. Put the sugar in either before or after,
as you please. Nutmeg improves it. The
chocolate should be scraped fine before
it is put into the water.

Me and our intrepid hearth cooks (minus the three who had to leave early):

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Small glasses of Currant Jelly were on display at The Israel
Crane House
during last month’s Essex County (NJ) Holiday
Historical Houses Tour. To make them, I followed a receipt

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in Eliza Leslie’s book, Seventy-Five Receipts for Pastry, Cakes,
and Sweetmeats
(1828). It was a good way to use up all
those currants that were leftover from the mincemeat pie
I’d previously made. And I had great fun preparing them!

BLACK CURRANT JELLY.
Pick the currants from the stalks,
wash and drain them. Mash them
soft with a spoon, put them in a bag,
and squeeze out the juice. To each
pint of juice, allow three quarters
of a pound of loaf-sugar. Put the
juice and sugar into a preserving
kettle, and boil them about ten
minutes, skimming them well. Take
it immediately out of the kettle.
Put it warm into your glasses. Tie
it up with brandy papers. The juice
of black currants is so very thick,
that it requires less sugar and
less boiling than any other jelly.

In fact, I SO enjoyed making those jellies that I made another
batch for my historic foods presentation the weekend following
the Essex Tour. Only this time, I made Apple Jelly, to accompany
the currant jellies.

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Again, I used a receipt from Leslie’s Seventy-Five Receipts:

APPLE JELLY.
Take the best pippin, or bell-flower
apples. No others will make good
jelly. Pare, core, and quarter them.
Lay them on a brass or bell-metal
kettle, and put to them as much
water only, as will cover them, and
as much lemon-peel as you choose.
Boil them till they are soft, but not
till they break. Drain off the water
through a cullender, and mash the
apples with the back of a spoon.
Put them into a jelly bag, set a deep
dish or pan under it, and squeeze
out the juice. To every pint of juice,
allow a pound of loaf-sugar, broken
up, and the juice of two lemons. Put
the apple-juice, the sugar, and the
lemon-juice, into the preserving kettle.
Boil it a quarter of an hour, skimming
it well. Take it immediately from the
kettle, and pour it warm into your
glasses, but not so hot as to break
them. When cold, cover each glass
with white paper dipped in brandy,
and tie it down tight with another
paper. Keep them in a cool place.

The Currant Jelly was delicious, and it had what can best
be described as a tart, exotic taste. The Apple, on the other
hand, had a sharp, crisp taste. It was also quite, no VERY,
rich, and a small amount went a loonnnng way!*

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I also made a few pieces of marzipan, which is simply made
of pounded almonds, which are first blanched and loosened
from their skins, and sugar and rosewater:

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Sadly, the above photo is the only one I have of any finished
sweetmeats. And then below is one of the cochineal that
I used to color the little strawberry:

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I also had some spinach juice for coloring the little peas, but
for some reason or other, it didn’t work. I tried brushing it on,
and then I even just plopped the whole piece into the juice,
but, alas, it refused to take. I’m not sure what the problem
was, if it was the juice or the marzipan (or me?!). Oh, well!

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And lastly, I made a pine-apple tart. Now, I’d planned initially
to include it in the previous weekend’s spread, but for various
reasons it didn’t happen. Besides, there was certainly plenty
of food without it! In any event, the tart was put together
in accordance with a receipt from The Country Housewife
and Lady’s Director…Part II
(1732), by Richard Bradley:

To Make a Tart of the Ananas, or
Pine-Apple. From Barbadoes.

Take Pine-Apple, and twist off its Crown:
then pare it free from the Knots, and cut
it in Slices about half an Inch thick; then
stew it with a little Canary Wine, or
Madera Wine, and some Sugar, till it
is thoroughly hot, and it will distribute
its Flavour to the Wine much better than
any thing we can add to it. When it is as
one would have it, take it from the Fire;
and when it is cool, put it in to a sweet
Paste, with its Liquor, and bake it gently,
a little while, and when it comes from
the Oven, pour Cream over it, (if you
have it) and serve either hot or cold.

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And so into the bake kettle it went. Of course, as is usually
the case, the photo below is the last and only one I was able
to take of it. Between talking to all the visitors and offering
them a bit of jelly or some marzipan or a piece of tart, there
was just no time!

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*NOTE (added 1/16/2013): for those who aren’t familiar with 18th
and early 19th century dishes, jellies were meant to be eaten…as is!
Yep. And with a spoon. They were not for use on bread or toast.

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The annual Essex County (NJ) Holiday Historical Houses
Tour was held again this past weekend. And of course,
the properties of the Montclair Historical Society (MHS)
were all on the ticket. Naturally, I was doing my hearth
cooking routine at MHS’ Israel Crane House.

Good-sized crowds of visitors came by on both days
to take a tour of the Crane House. As usual, a stop
in the kitchen was the “Grand Finale” of each one.
There, I had quite a lovely array of delicious goodies
spread out for all to enjoy, including Shrewsbury and
Gingerbread cakes, Pounded Cheese with crackers,
hot spiced cider, and more. On Saturday, I also roasted
a small chicken in the tin reflector oven and put together
my minced meat pie. I then baked the latter on Sunday.

I had a fantastic time on both days demonstrating my
hearth cooking skills and chatting with the numerous
visitors. I even had several in-depth discussions with
folks, both individually and in groups. Overall, it was
an absolutely awesome two days! HUZZAH!

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Shrewsbury Cakes, which I’ve made for previous Tours. This time
they were again courtesy of Amelia Simmons’ receipt in her book
American Cookery (1796):

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Gingerbread Cakes, from Hannah Glasse’s The Art of Cookery Made
Plain and Easy
(1747), were made with that British staple “treakle”:

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Pounded Cheese, from William Kitchiner, M.D.’s The Cook’s Oracle
(1817) via The Cooks Own Book (1832):

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Currant jellies, courtesy of Eliza Leslie’s Seventy-Five Receipts
for Pastry, Cakes, and Sweetmeats
(1828):

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Tasty hot spiced cider was offered to visitors:

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And finally, the making of the mincemeat pie! As always,
I followed a receipt (recipe) from Martha Washington’s
Booke of Cookery
, which, as you may know, is widely
thought to be Medieval in origin. And of course, I think
we’re all aware of how our (and the Cranes’) British
ancestors simply adored their meat pies! HUZZAH!

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NOTE: The receipt I used for the Shrewsbury Cakes is available via
the link above their photo. If anyone would like other receipts, just
send me a note at
historiccookery@gmail.com.

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Well, actually it was called “Spoon-a-Thon,” but since soups of all
kinds were the stars of the day, it was really a “Soup-a-thon.” Or
at least, that’s what I called it!

The event was a fund-raiser for the Montclair
Historical Society (MHS)
, which oversees four
properties, including the Israel Crane House,
where it was held. Several local restaurants
participated by offering tastings of their best
seasonal soups. Other activities took place
throughout the day, as well, including story
telling, House tours, and meeting MHS’ new
resident chickens.

Of course, as part of this Big Event, I was inside the Crane House,
cooking up some tasty soup of my own over the open fire. I made
“A Turnip Soop,” per Hannah Glasse’s instructions in her cookbook
The Art of Cookery Made Plain & Easy (1747):

A Turnip Soop.
Take a Gallon of Water, and a Bunch
of Turnips, pare them, save three or
four out, put the rest into the Water,
with half an Ounce of whole Pepper,
an Onion stuck with Cloves, a Blade
of Mace, and half a Nutmeg bruised,
a little Bundle of Sweet Herbs, a large
Crust of Bread; let these boil an Hour
pretty fast, then strain it through a Sieve,
squeezing the Turnips through, wash
and cut a Bunch of Salary very small,
set it on in the Liquor on the Fire, cover
it close, and let it stew. In the mean
time cut the Turnips you saved into
Dice, and two or three small Carrots
clear scraped, and cut in little pieces;
put half these Turnips and Carrots into
the Pot with the Salary, and the other
half fry brown with fresh Butter. You
must flour them first, and two or three
Onions peeled, and cut in thin Slices,
and fry’d brown; then put them all into
the Soop, with an Ounce of Vermicella.
Let your Soop boil softly till the Salary
is quite tender, and your Soop good.
Season it with Salt to your Palate.

I made a batch at home for display purposes, and then I worked
on another throughout the course of the day. It takes several
hours to prepare and cook, as it’s not exactly a “simple” soup.
In fact, few historic soups are. Most are comprised of not only
multiple ingredients, but they also require numerous steps…cook
this, strain that, push this through a sieve, fry these, chop those,
and so on. It’s far more complicated than your basic modern-day
routine of “open, pour into a pan, heat, and eat!”

I chose this soup because it calls for assorted root vegetables
that would have been available in the fall. At the same time, it
didn’t require a meat base, as so many others of the 18th and

early 19th centuries do. It provided me with a challenge, too, one
that I was eager to tackle: I needed “an ounce of Vermicella.” Yep,
I had to make some pasta. What fun!

Fortunately, there’s a receipt for Vermicelli in the same edition (1747)
of Glasse’s The Art of Cookery:

To make Vermicella.
Mix Yolks of Eggs and Flower together
into a pretty stiff Paste, so as you can
work it up cleverly, then roll it as thin
as it is possible to roll the Paste. Let
it dry in the Sun; and when it is quite
dry, with a very sharp Knife cut it as
thin as possible, and keep it in a dry
Place, it will run up like little Worms,
as Vermicella does; though the best
way is to run it through a coarse Sieve,
whilst the Paste is soft. If you want some
to be made in haste, dry it by the Fire,
and cut it small. It will dry by the Fire
in a quarter of an Hour. This far exceeds
what comes from abroad being fresher.

I just love that last line, don’t you? Making your own is “fresher” and
“far exceeds” any from some foreign land. It sounds oh, so 2012-ish,
doesn’t it?! But I digress. Back to the soup…

Now, I’ve made my own pasta many times, yes? HA! Yeah, NO! Well,
actually, I have made noodles a few times, but that was years ago.
Of course, I’ve often seen pasta of all kinds being made on various
and sundry TV cooking shows (“Lidia’s [Bastianich] Italy in America”
on PBS springs to mind). In any event, I took Glasse’s receipt and
dove in. I made a small amount first, with a handful or two of flour

and just one egg yolk. The end product was just fine, but, boy, was
it a struggle. The dough was rather dry at first, making it difficult to
work with. I eventually got the consistency I wanted, though, and
I rolled it and cut out the pasta. Then I decided to make another
batch, only this time, I used two egg yolks, instead of just one. Well,
it wasn’t any easier! In the end, all was well and good as before, but
golly, what was the problem? Was I doing something wrong? Or was
that how it’s supposed to be?

Thing is, I remembered that those TV-show cooks used the whole
egg, whereas Glasse’s receipt calls for the yolks ONLY. It was rather
puzzling. So finally, I went online to see just what others had done.
And guess what? No one, not a single person, used ONLY the yolks.
Nope, they all used the ENTIRE egg, the yolk AND the white. It was
an interesting discovery, that’s for sure. Ahh, well, perhaps Glasse’s
receipt is truly unique! Or maybe it’s how “it was done” in the 18th
century? Or perhaps, it’s just another possible method, then and
now. Or something!

Enough of that. Here are the few photos I was able to take during
the recent “Soup-” um, “Soop” er, I mean, “Spoon-a-Thon.”

Oh, and the plated soup shown first is what I made in advance.
And yes, I had a bowl. I’m not a big fan of turnips, but this was
mighty good! HUZZAH!

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Before we’re too far removed from our recent election, I’d like
to share a couple of author’s comments about Election Cake,
that uniquely-American celebratory treat.

First, the late food historian Karen Hess has this to say in her
introduction to the facsimile of the second edition of American
Cookery
(by Amelia Simmons; Albany, NY; 1796):

A word on her famous ‘Election Cake,’ one
of many recipes which did not appear until
the Albany edition, so that it cannot be
identified specifically with Hartford, which
it often is. It is simply one of the ‘Great
Cakes’ of English culinary tradition, to be
made for festival occasions, huge loaves
of highly enriched yeasted bread, flavored
with sugar, spices, and lovely rosewater or
spirits of some kind, as well as raisins
or the like, recipes for which abounded
in cookbooks of the seventeenth and
eighteenth centuries. Certainly in 1796,
Election Day would have been a major
festival, a cause for celebration.

Mary Tolford Wilson also makes note of these special cakes in her
opening essay to the facsimile of the first edition of Simmons’
American Cookery (published in Hartford, CT; 1796):

It [the second edition] was an extensively
revised and considerably augmented work.
There were new recipes such as ‘Election
Cake’ (beginning with thirty quarts of flour),
‘Independence Cake,’ and ‘Federal Pan Cake,’
recording by their names America’s awareness
of its new status as a nation.

And so, one final HUZZAH for Election Cake!

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It’s here! Today is the Big Election. So to celebrate this day while
at The Israel Crane House this past Sunday, I made the perfect
dish: an Election Cake. HUZZAH!

I used the following receipt (recipe) from Mrs. Child’s The American
Frugal Housewife
(12th edition, 1833; originally published 1832):

ELECTION CAKE.
Old-fashioned election cake is made
of four pounds of flour; three quarters
of a pound of butter; four eggs; one
pound of sugar; one pound of currants,
or raisins if you choose; half a pint of
good yeast; wet it with milk as soft as
it can be and be moulded on a board.
Set to rise over night in winter; in warm
weather, three hours is usually enough
for it to rise. A loaf, the size of common
flour bread, should bake three quarters
of an hour.

I find it interesting (and a bit humorous!) that Mrs. Child refers
to this Cake as “old-fashioned,” despite the fact that, at the time,
such cakes had been around less than 50 years! Yep, Election
Cakes are strictly an American “invention,” just as is our whole
electoral process. And thus, you’ll not find a single receipt for it
in earlier cookbooks. In fact, there’s only one other, prior to the
publication of American Frugal, and it’s in American Cookery (1796),
by Amelia Simmons. As you’ll see below, Simmons’ receipt is similar
and yet different. Of course, most notable is the vast quantities
of each ingredient, even though they’re basically the same (at
least in part). But what I found intriguing was the inclusion of
not only a few spices, but also wine AND brandy. Hmmmm, eat
several slices of Simmons’ Cake and perhaps be easily persuaded
to change your vote?!

At the same time, an Election Cake really isn’t all that different
from many other cakes, particularly those that include raisins
and/or currants. It’s probably because, when someone (who
was most likely a woman) had the brilliant idea to bake a cake
for an upcoming election, she didn’t make up an entirely new
receipt; she merely selected an already-familiar one. In a way,
it’s similar to what the early settlers in this country did; they
took an unknown New World ingredient (such as corn), mixed
it with an Old World receipt, and thus created a “new” dish.
In this case, an oft-used receipt (possibly one for a good
ol’ British plumb cake) was selected, re-named, and given
a new function and new status.

Back to Amelia Simmons’ receipt:

Election Cake.
Thirty quarts flour, 10 pound butter,
14 pound sugar, 12 pound raisins,
3 doz eggs, one pint wine, one quart
brandy, 4 ounces cinnamon, 4 ounces
fine colander seed, 3 ounces ground
allspice; wet the flour with milk to
the consistence of bread over night,
adding one quart yeast; the next
morning work the butter and sugar
together for half an hour, which will
render the cake much lighter and
whiter; when it has rise light work
in every other ingredient except
the plumbs, which work in when
going into the oven.

Now you see why I chose to use Child’s receipt! It was, indeed,
a bit simpler, at least ingredient-wise. I also made it even easier
(I think!) by quartering the proportions (starting with just one
pound of flour and so on). Working with yeast was challenging,
as most of the cakes I’ve made using historical receipts haven’t
called for it. I probably should’ve let it rise longer. Or started it
at home and finished it at Crane’s. Or something. The problem
with that is, I didn’t know for sure I’d even be going there, due
to Hurricane Sandy issues, until Saturday. However, the good
news is, it didn’t really seem to matter, as the final product
turned out well and was quite tasty! Visitors greatly enjoyed
it, as did staff members. Some even had several slices! So,
by and large, I’d say it was a delicious success. HUZZAH!

As usual, I wasn’t able to get many photos, but here are a few:

While the cake was rising and then later baking, I also cut up
and strung a few apples to hang on the mantel for drying:

Overall, it was a fantastic day! HUZZAH!

________________________________________

ADDENDUM: I failed to note above that the above Election Cake receipt
is from the second edition of Amelia Simmons’ American Cookery, which
was published in Albany, NY, in 1796. This receipt was NOT in her first
edition, which was published in Hartford, CT, also in 1796. My apologies!

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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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I’ve known for a long time, since
the beginning of this year, in fact,
that I’d be cooking at the hearth
of The Israel Crane House on
Saturday, May 5. And, although
nothing is set in stone until just
before each specific day that I’m
there, the “menu” of what I’ll be cooking is typically planned
somewhat in advance. Of course, more goes into my cooking
than merely showing up and wielding a spatula and an iron
pot or two. There’s considering what to cook, finding and
selecting receipts, doing auxiliary research, purchasing
supplies, and so on. Naturally, this past Saturday was
no different.

That is, until the Monday prior, when I received a call from
the folks at the Queens County Farm Museum. They asked
if I could do some hearth cooking
in the Adriance Farmhouse Sunday,
May 6, during that site’s annual
“Spring Celebration.” Yes, it was
rather late notice, for sure, but
I SO enjoyed cooking with the
teachers’ group back in March,
and the day was open, and well, long story short, I agreed
to do it. HUZZAH!

Needless to say, things changed pretty quickly with regard
to my “menu” at the Crane House. After figuring out with
my contact at the Queens Farm what I’d cook on Sunday
(more on that later), I decided to ditch what I’d initially
planned for Crane’s. And so, my main dish was one that
I also did on Sunday: curd fritters. My reasons for taking
this route were, to make it easier for myself, and to gain
some practice in fritter making and frying (even though
I’ve made them MANY times before). We also had some
recently-churned butter with crackers on Saturday, along
with the last of my stash of salt pork. And since a good-sized
crowd of visitors was on hand, it all disappeared in no time.
HUZZAH!

Now, I didn’t have too many opportunities to take photos,
but here are a few:

Salt pork and a few of the curd fritter ingredients:

The curd fritter batter is mixed and ready to go:

Saffron, soaked in a bit of water, goes in last:

Fry ‘em up:

Delicious curd fritters…get ‘em before they disappear!:

I’ll give the receipt I used in the next post.

The fire has died out and a glorious day of hearth cooking
(my last until next fall, by the way), has come to an end:

____________________

NEXT: On to the Queens County Farm Museum!

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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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