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Posts Tagged ‘food history’

stepping back into the 18th century

Posted in historic cooking, historic cooking/classes/events, historic site, tagged , , , , on September 13, 2010 | Leave a Comment »

This past Saturday, I had the privilege of doing some 18th century
cooking at The Conference House out on Staten Island. The occasion
was the re-enactment of the September 11, 1776, Peace Conference,
wherein an attempt was made by opposing sides, namely the British
and the 13 Colonies, to settle their differences. On behalf of Britain,
Lord Admiral Richard Howe met with John Adams, Benjamin Franklin,
and Edward Rutledge, who represented the colonies. Alas, the meeting
was unsuccessful, and the War for Independence continued. Of course,
eventually the colonists had the last word and won their freedom!

As part of the day’s festivities, there were various crafts people selling
their wares, colonial music and dancing, children’s crafts and games,
as well as scrumptious food, cooked over an open fire. For my part,
I whipped up a lovely carrot pudding, which I then shared with any
and all visitors. I had a marvelous time chatting with everyone
about colonial open-fire cooking, in general, and about puddings,
in particular. It was great fun! The weather was absolutely gorgeous.
It couldn’t have been a more perfect day. The entire event, and all
the folks associated with it, deserve a hale ‘n hearty HUZZAH!

_________________________

Soup’s a cookin’!

There were carrots to be cooked:

Two comely lasses handle cooking duties:

The beginnings of my carrot pudding:

Ready for baking:

Looks mighty tasty (smelled wonderful, too!):

Mmmm…delicious!

Count ‘em, THREE, carrot puddings are nearly gone. Yep, they were
definitely a major hit with the larger-than-ever crowd. HUZZAH!

In addition to the re-enactment of the Peace Conference, a memorial service
for 9/11 victims was held. The Staten Island Pipe & Drum Corps led the way:

Some young visitors joined the procession:

Yep, another successful event. HUZZAH!

______________________________

NEXT: the receipt and pre-event pudding preparations

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bread!

Posted in historic cooking, historic cooking/classes/events, historic site, tagged , on September 2, 2010 | 2 Comments »

Okay, ladies and gents, boys and girls, it’s taken awhile, but finally,
here are photos from this past weekend’s “Historic Baking Symposium”
at Fort Lee Historic Park, sponsored by Deborah Peterson’s Pantry. As
I’ve said previously, I have quite a few; this is the first batch.

So, let’s begin…with bread! Itinerant baker and historian Cate Crown’s
demonstration on Saturday:

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butcherin’ time

Posted in culinary history, historic cooking/classes/events, Wyckoff Farmhouse Museum, tagged , on August 27, 2010 | Leave a Comment »

I mentioned at one point during yesterday’s Fireside Feasts
program that there was a book illustration of a family doing
various tasks associated with butchering, including the making
of sausage. However, I’ve since discovered it’s in a different
book than the one I said. It’s actually in America’s Kitchens,
by Nancy Carlisle and Melinda Talbot Nasardinov (2008).

According to the caption, it’s a woodcut by Henry Barrat,
done in 1879. Note the sausage stuffer that Ma and Pa
(presumably, although they both look more like grand-Ma
and Pa!) are using. I love the fact that the whole group is
doing this work with light from a betty lamp (L), a candle (C),
and a fire on the hearth (R). Ahh, the warm and fuzzy joys (?)
of the good ol’ days?!

In any event, here’s the picture:

____________________

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what’s that, Mrs. B? don’t eat raw veggies?!

Posted in culinary history, historic cookbooks, research & experiments, tagged , , , , , on August 24, 2010 | 2 Comments »

Apparently, the theory that people in past centuries refused to eat
raw vegetables for fear of becoming sick (or worse, becoming dead)
began in the mid-nineteenth century. Or, rather, it was true during
that time, at least for some people.

There were possibly two reasons for this. One was the discovery
of germ theory in the 1860s-70s. The second were all those
“celebrities” of the day, such as Isabella Beeton (1836-1865),
author of Beeton’s Book of Household Management (1861),
who strongly supported the “don’t eat raw veggies” idea.

Writer Colin Spencer explains it all in his work British Food,
An Extraordinary Thousand Years of History (2002):

There was a belief [in the late 1800s] that raw
or undercooked food was bad for you, since it
harboured germs, and so everything had to be
thoroughly cooked and boiled. Medical opinion
was divided on this, but whatever the experts
said on the subject the public were suspicious
of raw vegetables.

He continues by placing some of the, uh, “blame” on Mrs. Beeton:

Mrs. Beeton fostered this opinion: ‘As vegetables
eaten in a raw state are apt to ferment on the
stomach, and as they have very little stimulative
power upon that organ, they are usually dressed
with some condiments, such as pepper, vinegar,
salt, mustard, and oil. Respecting the use of these,
medical men disagree, especially in reference to oil,
which is condemned by some and recommended
by others.’

So, yes, some people didn’t eat raw vegetables because they deemed
them highly toxic, but it was pretty much confined to those living
in the late 19th century. At the same time, I imagine there were
many people who bucked the anti-raw-veggie trend and ate them
without a care in the world (and lived to tell about it). In earlier
centuries, of course, vegetables were eaten cooked AND uncooked.

For more about Isabella Beeton, see this great article on fellow food
blogger Cynthia Bertelsen’s site, Gherkins & Tomatoes.

In the meantime, enjoy your raw (or cooked) veggies!

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what IF they didn’t drink the water…

Posted in culinary history, food myths, research & experiments, tagged , on April 19, 2010 | Leave a Comment »

Let’s pretend it was true: no one during previous
centuries drank water because it was polluted;
if they did, they’d get sick and/or die, and so
everyone drank beer instead.

Okay. Well…what about the animals? If all water
was polluted and unsafe, what did the livestock
drink? What about domestics such as chickens,
goats, sheep, hogs, cattle, horses, etc.? How
about the wild animals? The deer, rabbits, and
such? If any of those critters did drink the water,
what about the humans who then ate their meat?
Or ate what they produced? The eggs and the milk?
Or the use of body parts, say intestines for sausage
or bladders for puddings? What about the fish that
lived in that polluted water? We’re all aware nowadays
of the affects polluted ponds, streams, rivers, and
lakes have on fish. Surely, bad water made for bad
fish in the past, as well. Yet, literally for centuries,
assorted fish were consumed weekly, even daily.
In fact, it was mandated by the Holy Roman Church
at one time or another!

Of course, there’s also the inevitable: If the animals
didn’t drink the water either, were they given beer
instead, too? (Insert jokes here about the drunken
oxen pulling the plow in a zig-zag pattern across
a field or the drunken man riding the drunken horse!)

Guess that generalization about not drinking water seems
pretty silly now, doesn’t it?

Go ahead, drink up!

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“borrowing” Kitchiner’s Wow Wow

Posted in culinary history, historic cookbooks, historic receipts (recipes), research & experiments, tagged , , on March 23, 2010 | Leave a Comment »

William Kitchiner, M.D.

I often write here about cookbook
authors of centuries past stealing,
er, “borrowing” from others’ works.
Yep, plagiarism ran rampant. Well,
I’ve discovered yet another example.
Dr. William Kitchiner’s (1775-1827)
lovely Wow Wow Sauce, as seen in
the first episode of “The Supersizers
Go Regency” videos, is also in The Cook’s
Own Book, by A Boston Housekeeper
(aka Mrs. N.K.M. Lee), which was published in 1832 in Boston, MA.

However, all is not quite as bad as it seems. Although the receipt
(or any others, for that matter) is not attributed to Dr. Kitchiner
specifically, his book was given a general credit on the book’s
title page. There we find the following:

The Cook’s Own Book:
Being a Complete
Culinary Encyclopedia:
Comprehending All Valuable Receipts
for Cooking Meat, Fish, and Fowl,
and Composing every Kind of
Soup, Gravy, Pastry, Preserves, Essences, &c.
That Have Been Published or Invented
During the Last Twenty Years.
Particularly the Very Best of Those in the
Cook’s Oracle, Cook’s Dictionary….
(emphasis mine)

Aha! Our “Boston Housekeeper” tells us that she indeed took
from other works, and thus created this compilation of receipts.
Finally, kinda, sorta, an honest author. HUZZAH!

But wait, there’s more. At the end of her Preface, the author
added this note:

The articles which follow, on Roasting, Boiling, &c.
are selected from the Cook’s Oracle.

I suppose, one way to look at such borrowing, particularly in this
case, is that Kitchiner’s work is worth repeating, so it deserves
to be copied. And although he’s not mentioned by name, at least
his book is. I suppose, too, that since The Cook’s Own Book is
meant to be a “complete culinary encyclopedia,” it’s only natural
that material from other sources be included. Still…what else
was used that ISN’T attributed? In the end, I guess “Cook’s”
gets an “A” for effort, but it could’ve done more.

Speaking of Kitchiner, for an excellent biography, I highly recommend
Dr. William Kitchiner, Regency Eccentric, Author of The Cook’s Oracle,
written by Tom Bridge and Colin Cooper English, that was published
by England’s Southover Press in 1992.

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one last (?) bite of New Year’s Cake

Posted in culinary history, historic cookbooks, historic receipts (recipes), research & experiments, tagged , , , on January 15, 2010 | Leave a Comment »

Yep, I have another receipt for New Year’s Cake. It’s from the manuscript
cookbook of Elizabeth Ellicott Lea, which she most likely began in 1821
and completed in 1842. It was eventually published as a book in 1845.*

Now, it may look rather familiar. That’s because it’s nearly
the exact same receipt as the one in Eliza Leslie’s Seventy-five
Receipts (1836 edition) that I posted earlier (see 1/9/2010).
It calls for a little less butter and the use of saleratus instead
of pearl-ash, but other than that, it’s identical. Well, that, and
the addition of either grated nutmeg or lemon zest.

As with some of the other receipts we’ve seen, this one also
makes little cakes, or what we’d probably now call cookies.

_________________________

New Year Cake.

Mix together three pounds of flour,
a pound and a half of sugar, and
three-quarters of a pound of butter;
dissolve a tea-spoonful of saleratus
in enough new milk to wet the flour;
mix them together; grate in a nutmeg,
or the peel of a lemon; roll them out,
cut them in shapes, and bake.

_________________________

*Lea’s manuscript was re-published in 1982 as A Quaker Woman’s Cookbook,
The Domestic Cookery of Elizabeth Ellicott Lea, by William Woys Weaver.
A revised edition was issued in 2004.

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“the best sort of catsup…”

Posted in culinary history, historic cookbooks, historic receipts (recipes), research & experiments, tagged , , , on October 27, 2009 | Leave a Comment »

When writing about tomatoes not long ago, I mentioned
that they weren’t accepted in this country until the first
part of the 19th century. There was the one lone receipt
for “keeping” tomatoes in order to make winter soups
in Harriet Pinckney Horry’s 1770 manuscript, but that
was pretty much it. Then, lo and behold, by the time
Sarah Rutledge published her cookbook (1847),
the popularity of tomatoes had (apparently) soared.

IMG_7684

Of course, Horry and Rutledge were Southerners. What about
those dang Northerners? Did they accept or reject the tomato?
Well, based on a couple of published cookbooks from New England,
the answer is: why yes, they most certainly accepted it!

In Mrs. Lydia Child’s The American Frugal Housewife (first published
in 1832 in Boston), she writes:

This [the tomato] is a delicious vegetable.
It is easily cultivated, and yields a most
abundant crop.

She then states:

The best sort of catsup is made from tomatoes.

Incidentally, during previous centuries, the “best” catsups/ketchups
were made from walnuts, mushrooms, or anchovies.

Tomato receipts are also found in The Cook’s Own Book,
“By a Boston Housekeeper,” aka Mrs. N.K.M. Lee (1832).
Written in encyclopedic form, there are no less than ten
receipts for tomatoes, including three for Tomata/Tomato
Ketchup. There’s also a marmalade, a soup, and both French
and Italian sauces. Clearly, the tomato had finally secured
its place on the American table.

Here’s one receipt for ketchup from The Cook’s Own Book:

TOMATA KETCHUP. (1)

Take tomatas when fully ripe, bake
them in a jar till tender, strain them,
and rub them through a sieve. To every
pound of juice, add a pint of Chili vinegar,
an ounce of shallots, half an ounce of garlic,
both sliced, a quarter of an ounce of salt,
and a quarter of an ounce of white pepper,
finely powdered; boil the whole till every
ingredient is soft, rub it again through
the sieve. To every pound add the juice
of three lemons; boil it again to the
consistence of cream; when cold,
bottle it, put a small quantity of sweet
oil on each, tie bladders over, and keep
it in a dry place.

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“Want catsup with that?”

Posted in culinary history, historic cookbooks, historic menus, historic receipts (recipes), research & experiments, tagged , , , , on October 11, 2009 | Leave a Comment »

Let’s imagine that it’s 1758, and we’ve been traveling for a few
days here in the colonies. Nightfall is fast approaching, so we’ve
decided to break our journey at the next dwelling house and resume
tomorrow. We reach what looks to be, based on the exterior at least,
a suitable public house. In short order, we find the accommodations
satisfactory, our horse is settled in the adjoining stables, and thus
sc01831e50we set ourselves down for a bit of supper. Tonight’s fare consists
of cold beef, bread, and, of course, the inn-keeper’s own brew.

Now, let’s also go wild and silly, and imagine that as we receive
the evening’s repast, we’re asked the now ubiquitous question,
“Want catsup with that?”

And if you or I, or anyone else in our traveling party (or at our
table, for that matter), should happen to reply, “Yes,” what
lovely tasty concoction do you think would soon be brought
to our table?

If you said, “Why, tomato catsup, of course,” well, sorry, but
you couldn’t be more wrong!

You see, during the 17th and 18th centuries, catsup or ketchup
(as it was also spelled) was commonly made of mushrooms or
walnuts or the liquid of pickled oysters or anchovies with spices.
Receipts for all of these can be found in many historic cookbooks.

Tomato catsup/ketchup, on the other hand, did not exist
until the 19th century. The first American published receipt
that I’ve found (thus far) is in Mary Randolph’s The Virginia
Housewife, which was first printed in Washington, D. C.
in 1824. It’s one of only six receipts total for tomatoes in her
work. There’s stewed and scolloped, two for marmalades, a soy,
and then the catsup. Incidentally, she also offers a walnut catsup.

Below is Mrs. Randolph’s receipt. First, though, which ketchup
have you selected for your tavern victuals? Walnut or mushroom?

Tomato Catsup.

Gather a peck of tomatos, pick out
the stems, and wash them; put them
on the fire without water, sprinkle on
a few spoonsful of salt, let them boil
steadily an hour, stirring them frequently;
strain them through a colander, and then
through a sieve; put the liquid on the fire
with half a pint of chopped onions, half
a quarter of an ounce of mace broke
into small pieces; and if not sufficiently
salt, add a little more–one table-spoonful
of whole black pepper; boil all together
until just enough to fill two bottles; cork
it tight. Make it in August, in dry weather.

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mulberries

Posted in culinary history, historic cookbooks, historic receipts (recipes), research & experiments, tagged , , on July 27, 2009 | Leave a Comment »

I mentioned previously that there’s a receipt (recipe) for preserving
mulberries in Amelia Simmons’ American Cookery. Then later, while
looking for something else, I noticed yet another one in The Frugal
Housewife, by Susannah Carter. It’s also for preserving mulberries.

the illustrious mulberry!

the illustrious mulberry!

Thing is, it looked familiar.
I’d seen it somewhere.
Well, turns out that
the one in Carter’s
book is almost exactly
the same as the one
in Amelia’s! And since
Frugal was published
in 1772 (in England),
and Cookery in 1796
(in America), that means
Amelia “borrowed” this
receipt from Susannah.
But then, “borrowing”
receipts from other
published works was
typical. Some authors copied previous versions word for word, while
others merely paraphrased them. One of the worst offenders (I think,
so far) is John Farley. In his book The London Art of Cookery (1783),
he stole, er, I mean, “borrowed,” receipts from Susannah Carter AND
Hannah Glasse (The Art of Cookery Made Plain and Easy, 1747). Now,
I’ve not done any detailed accounting, but I was taken aback by his,
um, multiple lacks of originality, despite my knowing that authors
frequently plagiarized.

In any case, here is Amelia Simmons’ version in the second edition
of American Cookery, which was published in Albany, NY, in 1796.
She was the first American to write a cookbook which was then also
the first published in America.

To preserve Mulberries whole.

Set some mulberries over the fire in a skillet
or preserving pan; draw from them a pint
of juice when it is strained; then take three
pounds of sugar beaten very fine, wet the
sugar with the pint of juice, boil up your
sugar and skim it, put in two pounds
of ripe mulberries, and let them stand
in the sirrup till they are thoroughly warm,
then set them on the fire, and let them boil
very gently; do them but half enough, so
put them by in the sirrup till the next day,
then boil them gently again, when the sirrup
is pretty thin and will tard in round drops,
when it is cold they are done enough,
so put all into a gallipot* for use.

*A gallipot is a small glazed earthen pot or jar (stoneware is best,
as redware will leak).

Now, Amelia made only slight alterations to Susannah’s version
of this receipt. A non-essential word was added here, a comma
moved there. However, she did make one rather major change.
Towards the end of the receipt where Amelia wrote, “when the
sirrup is pretty thin,” Susannah penned the complete opposite,
“pretty thick.” This puzzles me. Did Amelia do so because it
makes the end result better? Or was it an error on her part?
Perhaps she copied it incorrectly? Or did she change it just
to be changing it? Or is it the fault of the publisher? Maybe
it’s just a typo? Or…something else? Unfortunately, we’ll
never know. But it is an interesting mystery. All part
of what, again, I like to call “food forensics.”

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