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A year ago (June 22nd, to be exact) I gave a presentation at the 2015
National ALHFAM* Conference. Held at the College of William and Mary,
down in Williamsburg, Virginia, it featured five days of sessions, tours,
professional-development workshops, time spent traipsing all ’round
Colonial Williamsburg, Yorktown, and Jamestown, and more.

IMG_4888

During my session, I offered the paper below. It deals with my research
and findings surrounding various supposedly-historic cookbooks, starting
with the two published by the Montclair Historical Society, which oversees
the operation of The Israel Crane House. As you’ll see, it was what I like
to call “a straight talk,” in that there was no power-point slideshow or
shoot-from-the-hip ramblings. It was just me, speaking for about 35
to 40 minutes, followed by a brief Q & A. Oh, and I also took down

IMG_5026

a boat-load of books for “show ‘n tell” and two batches of small cakes
(aka cookies), for an audience taste-test. My session was held in what
was probably the smallest room in the building, but a good-sized crowd
filled the space. Overall, I think it went well, and I had great fun
conducting it. HUZZAH!

Now, the material given here is as I presented it. And yes, it’s quite
long, as there’s alot of information. So I’ll be sharing it in several
separate sections. In addition, this is the ONLY place where you’ll
be able to read the entire paper, word for word, as I wrote it. Most
papers, you see, (but not all, as not every presenter participates)
are compiled each year in a bound volume entitled “Conference
Proceedings.” However, when I submitted mine, I was promptly
told that it wouldn’t be published. And then I was given a laundry
list of reasons why. It was too long, it was too critical, I’d pointed
fingers, I’d named names. I’d even dared to suggest that too many
book authors, as well as museum staff, are not as historically-accurate
as they could, or should, be. They even found fault with the length
of both the job title I use and that of my bio (apparently, the former
was limited to just two words and the latter to two sentences). Oh,
and BTW, the photos I sent were useless. And so on and so forth.
I was simply dumbfounded! The Proceedings’ editors told me, if I
wanted my presentation published, I must re-write it, removing all
that they deemed “offensive.” Then we went back and forth, ’round
and ’round, and back again. I’d ask, “What objections, specifically,
do you have?” and receive no definitive answers in return. Well,
other than being told that a single paragraph at the bottom of page
such ‘n such was fine.

SERIOUSLY?!?

The whole thing was downright bizarre.

Finally, I gave up trying to understand their issues. Besides, I had
absolutely no interest in re-writing what I’d spent years researching
and compiling. I had no intention, either, of re-doing it just to appease
the odd sensibilities of a couple people. I mean, come on. If you’re
afraid of being sued, print a disclaimer that states something along
the lines of, “Opinions expressed herein are solely those of individual
authors and not of the organization as a whole.” Golly, doesn’t that
already exist? If not, it should! In any event, eventually I made peace
with the fact that my small contribution to the 2015 National ALHFAM
Conference was vanishing into thin air. It was to be as if it’d never
been presented. Ahh, well…such is life.

But, wait. Someone had second thoughts. Or something. This past
winter I was contacted and told to review the edited version of my
paper “as it will appear in the Proceedings.” Huh?!? I didn’t know
what was going on or what to think. What games were these? First,
you won’t, then you will? What’s up with that?! And more importantly,
WHY?!? What happened to the whole “it’s not being published?” stance?
In any event, I couldn’t bare to read it, to see what white-washing had
been done to my years of hard work. And I don’t know what the final
decision was. I gave up trying to figure it out. And, at this point,
I don’t really care.

You know, this nonsense reminded me of when, at Conner Prairie,
I was given the task of fleshing out more fully the bio (fictional,
of course) of a particular Prairietown family. I remember putting
alot of time and effort into it, but, dagnabit, it seems that it wasn’t
what those in charge expected or wanted! So a committee (!)
was formed, and its members completely re-did it. Too bad
for me! And then there’s the more recent “Savoring Gotham”
debacle…but that’s a tale for another day.

Nevertheless, I’m posting my paper here, in its entirety, warts and
all. Like it or don’t like it. Your choice. But it’s MY choice to publish
it. I’m proud of what I wrote. And I’m pleased to be able to offer
up here, in this forum, what I had to say a year ago. As opposed
to what someone else thinks I should’ve said.

So, let’s get to it…

[NOTE: Details on all books and other materials mentioned herein
can be found under “Sources” at the end of each section.]

________________________________________________

FAKE FANNY RECEIPTS AND OTHER TRAVESTIES…Part I

This session is dedicated to long-time librarian Lynne M. Olver, who
passed away this spring
[April 2015]. Her passion for food history
led to her creation of the well-known and highly-valued site,
http://www.foodtimeline.org. Lynne was always supportive
of my on-going research for this project.

_________________________

Several precepts have stuck with me since my initial foray
into hearth cooking nearly 25 years ago. It was then that
I worked at Conner Prairie in my home state of Indiana.
And it seemed, at least to me, that certain directives were
drummed into interpreters’ heads on a daily basis. Naturally,
I often wondered if perhaps they were just messing with us.
You know, setting up impossible standards for us to follow,
just for sport, and then laughing, as they watched everyone
fail miserably? Of course, since leaving the Prairie, I’ve
discovered that it indeed often tended to be a case of “do
as I say, not as I do,” so…but more on that later.

Nevertheless, I took them at their word, took it seriously
and took it all to heart. I did my darnedest at the time
to adhere to the rules that were given me. In fact, the
overall philosophy that governed my time there was, and
has become, the very foundation of everything I did while
there, and that I still do, even today.

So, what were those mandates? They were:

1.) always be as historically-accurate as possible; and
2.) the three most important things are research,
research, and research.

Now, six years ago, when I began cooking over the open
hearth at The Israel Crane House in Montclair, New Jersey,
which is a property owned and operated by the Montclair
Historical Society (MHS), the powers-that-be requested
that I use receipts from the two cookbooks that’d been
published by the Society, especially the first one:

1.) Fanny Pierson Crane, Her Receipts, 1796; and
2.) The Thirteen Colonies Cookbook.

I promptly, but politely, replied, “No, thanks!” And I said
this because of what was instilled in me at Conner Prairie
all those years ago. I then explained that when doing any
hearth cooking, I use only receipts from original historic
cookbooks. This means works by Hannah Glasse, Amelia
Simmons, Mary Randolph or any other author appropriate
for the time period at hand (the 1830s at the Crane’s).

Of course, I’d previously read both of the Montclair Society’s
cookbooks from cover to cover, so I knew that neither
contained original historic receipts. In fact, for me, those
two volumes have more in common with Joy of Cooking
than with Glasse’s The Art of Cookery, Mrs. Bryan’s The
Kentucky Housewife
or any other historic cookbook. Nearly
every recipe in the MHS books is a modern adaptation. They’ve
been re-worked and/or re-written and thus bear little or no

015

resemblance to any originals. It’s not difficult to determine,
as there’s everything from the use of baking powder and
cornstarch to cans of “frozen lemonade concentrate.” Even
the format is modern, with lists of ingredients given first,
followed by instructions on what to do with them. In addition,
my years of experience working with historical receipts,
together with my knowledge of culinary history, enables
me to ascertain that some ingredients and cooking methods
scream “MODERN!” as they either didn’t exist or they couldn’t
be done during this or that time period. It ranges from the
afore-mentioned baking powder (not until 1859) to the use
of chocolate as a candy coating (not until the late 1840s).
The bottom line is, as anyone who knows me well can
attest, I prefer to use ONLY those receipts that’ve been
taken from original historic cookbooks. I don’t care one
iota for any that’re adapted or modernized. Just blame it
on those principles I learned, and the training I received,
while at Conner Prairie!

However, I told the Montclair Society officials that if they
could provide me with the actual original manuscript book,
the one written in Fanny Pierson Crane’s (Israel’s wife) own
hand, I’d be more than happy to cook from it. In fact, it’d be
a tremendous thrill to do so! I’d simply love the opportunity.
Problem was, no one knew anything about the book or where
it was or might be. Was it somewhere in the Crane House?
Or in the MHS offices? Was it hidden on a shelf? Or maybe
buried under a pile of books in a rarely-used room? Had
anyone ever seen it? Or heard of it? Alas, no one knew
anything, but everyone vowed to hunt for it.

And thus, the Great Search for Fanny’s personal collection
of household receipts began. As months went by, I’d inquire
every now and then, “Has anyone found Fanny’s book, yet?”
Sadly, no one had. At least, not yet. And before long, as no
manuscript materialized, I began to have my doubts. I even
jokingly said once or twice, “Maybe this book doesn’t exist?!”
Of course, I hoped that wasn’t true, but…you never know!

Eventually, toward the end of that first year’s season, one
of the two books’ five authors visited the Crane House. The
Museum Director brought her into the kitchen where I was
cooking, they both sat down and a conversation about Fanny’s
receipt book began. The woman rambled on about this and
that, these things here and over there, all nothing of any
real consequence, until finally the Director asked her, point
blank, “Is there an original manuscript upon which the Fanny
cookbook is based?” The author’s reply was, “Oh no, dear!”
in a tone that sounded as if she meant, “Oh no, dear. Where’d
you get a crazy idea like that? What a silly thing to think!”

Wow. So my earlier suspicions were correct. There is NO
manuscript! Unbelievable. So, it really IS a fake. A phony.
Wow. Guess the title should be “Fanny Pierson Crane, Her
FAKE Receipts.” And this, from an historical society, no less.

Naturally, this raised all sorts of questions, including:
Where’d all the recipes in this little booklet come from?
Are they adapted from original historic ones? Are they
at least based, even in the slightest, on any? Or are
they, indeed, made up, crafted out of thin air? Are they
what I hate to see, modern recipes masquerading
as historic ones?

So I set out to answer as many of the above questions
as I could. I began my investigation by spending much
of that summer looking through historic cookbooks in my
own personal collection (all facsimiles) for any and all
receipts that might possibly match, at least in part,
those in the Fanny book. I compared multiple “reals”
to the “fakes,” line by line. It proved to be a difficult
and tedious task. It was pretty fruitless, as well!

Then one day, I sat down and opened what I’d by then
dubbed “Fake Fanny” at random, and I happened onto
the page with the recipe for “Maids of Honor.” Suddenly,
it hit me: I’ve seen that before! I think it’s in The Williams-
burg Art of Cookery
, by Helen Bullock. So I got out my copy,

007

checked and sure enough, there it was. The same name,
the same ingredients, the same amount of those, even
a few of the exact same words. The only difference was
that Williamsburg’s is in paragraph form (as are most
original historic receipts, up until roughly the late 19th
century), and Fake Fanny’s is not. Then I remembered,
too, what the previously-mentioned author had said
during her ramblings that day in the Crane kitchen,
that she and the other authors had “studied” the work
of Helen Bullock. AH-HA! It was now becoming clearer!

So then I began to carefully compare, in any and every
detail, the Williamsburg book to the Fake Fanny. In
short, there are at least ten recipes in Fanny that’ve
been lifted from it. All are much like the “Maids of Honor,”
above, in that they have the same title, the same
ingredients, the same amounts, etc., with the only
difference being, again, that Fake Fanny’s are not
in paragraph form. Many are similar, yet slightly
different, such as Williamsburg’s “Orange Cake” and
Fanny’s “Glazed Orange Cake,” while others are nearly
direct lifts, such as Fanny’s “Greengage Plum Ice Cream,”
which is a poorly-disguised “King’s Arms Green-gage
Plum Ice Cream.”

Of course, this stealing, er, I mean, “borrowing” of receipts
is nothing new. It’s been done for centuries. Glasse stole,
er, borrowed from E. Smith and Raffald, Farley borrowed
from both of them. Emerson stole from Glasse and Simmons
(in fact, according to the late food historian, Karen Hess,
Emerson copied everything in Simmons, including the
mistakes!). Nowadays, though, there are more and
supposedly stricter laws against plagiarism, although
they can be complicated. I asked prolific book writer
and fellow food historian Andy F. Smith about all this,
and he told me,

This is all a murky area. Recipes are
considered formula and therefore
cannot be copyrighted. However,
the form of the recipe is considered
intellectual property and therefore
is copyrighted. So you can take
the ingredients and the instructions,
put them in your own form/words,
change the name, and it is now yours.
What professionals do is take a recipe
and change several ingredients/steps
and place ‘Adapted from’ and give
the original source.

Of course, the problem here is, nowhere in Fake Fanny
is the Williamsburg book mentioned, let alone an “adapted
from” credit given. There’s no bibliography of any kind,
either.

Smith went on to say,

However, you can quote sections
directly from published works
without making changes. The
courts have limited this in
a number of ways (can’t take
poetry or songs, for instance)
and to be on the safe side it
must be less than 1-2 percent
of the total work. So if a cookbook
has 200 recipes you could take
2-4 recipes without a problem.

Well, there are 60 recipes in Fake Fanny, so “1-2 percent”
of that is 0.6 to 1.2. And there are, as I stated earlier, at
least ten.

There’s another problem here. The fact that the Fanny book
is indeed a fake also affects Thirteen Colonies, because its
New Jersey section is comprised of some (but not all) of
the same recipes. Oddly enough, a few are ever-so-slightly
different here and there, which may be the result of some
minor editing. Or perhaps the authors were aiming for that
“change at least one thing, and the recipe is yours” criteria?
At the same time, this all means that they’re guilty of pla-
giarizing themselves. Which, as I understand it, opens up
a whole ‘nother can of worms and causes a new set of
problems (a topic for another time, perhaps).

However, what I was most shocked to discover during my
perusal of all these books is that recipes in Fake Fanny
can be found in different sections of Thirteen Colonies!
For example, Fake Fanny’s “Abigail’s Soft Molasses Cakes”

010

are also given as Lydia Watrous Buckingham’s “Soft Molasses
Cakes” in the chapter for Connecticut. And Fake Fanny’s recipe
for “Miss Mary’s Meringues, Kisses for Dessert Pyramid” is
also Elizabeth Matthews Heyward of South Carolina’s “Kisses
for a Slack Oven” (not to mention, who the heck are Abigail
and Miss Mary?!). The “Hospitality Thins” in Fake Fanny
also belong to Sarah Gibbons Telfair of Georgia. Fanny’s
“Crock-Preserved Fruits” are also offered by New York City’s
Samuel Fraunces. And “Rose Geranium Jelly” was supposedly
also part of Catherine Moffatt Whipple of New Hampshire’s
repertoire of dishes. The list goes on and on and on, and
all told, there are 26. Yep, 26 recipes allegedly collected
by Fanny Pierson Crane were apparently also compiled by
some other person in some other colony. From Massachusetts
to Delaware to Georgia, Fanny’s recipes are spread throughout
the East coast. I tell you, I’ve heard of recipe sharing, but
this is ridiculous! And too widely-rampant to be plausible.

At the same time, I had to laugh while reading in Fake Fanny
such statements as “simple enough for the Crane children
to make,” when the same recipe is Magdelena Hoch Keim’s,
in the Pennsylvania section. Gee, don’t they mean the Keim
children?! Or when in Fake Fanny, the copy for “Chocolate
Truffles” mentions Thomas Jefferson’s supposed influence
on the use of chocolate in the early years of this country
(um, yeah, no!), and how it was felt even “in the Crane
household,” despite its presence in the Virginia chapter,
since it purportedly belonged to Betty Washington Lewis.
So, don’t they mean the Lewis household?!

Unfortunately, this stealing, er, I mean “borrowing” doesn’t
end there. A few years ago, I bought a used copy of The First
Ladies Cook Book, Favorite Recipes of All the Presidents of
the United States
cheaply at a neighborhood flea market.
I discovered that recipes were taken from it, as well. There

004

aren’t as many, though, only five. At least that I’ve found
thus-far. There may be more. Of course, as before, this may
also mean there are a few in Thirteen Colonies, seeing as
the two books share quite a bit of material.

Incidentally, when I initially skimmed through First Ladies,
I found a clipping from The New York Times of Helen Bullock’s
obituary tucked inside (she was the book’s Consulting Editor,

Image (102)

and the author of Williamsburg’s pseudo-historic cookbook).
NYT didn’t mince words. It bluntly stated,

Her [Bullock’s] 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. Having discovered
that 17-century [sic] cooks, lacking
ingredients like baking powder and
vanilla, has often prepared dishes
no discriminating 20th-century diner
would eat, she sensibly adapted them
to modern tastes and ingredients.

She did WHAT?!? Oh, my! I guess that explains the insertion
of baking powder and confectioner’s sugar (cornstarch), the
use of modern measurements, and more throughout the book.

So, is that it? Sadly, no.

_________________________

To be continued…stay tuned to see what other travesties are
lurking out there!

=========================================================

*ALHFAM = The Association for Living History, Farm and Agricultural
Museums. See my postings about the 2015 National Conference starting
with THIS ONE.

SOURCES mentioned in Part I (only):

Bullock, Helen, Consulting Editor. The First Ladies Cook Book,
Favorite Recipes of All the Presidents of the United States
.
Parent’s Magazine Press, NY, NY, 1966.

Bullock, Helen. The Williamsburg Art of Cookery. The Colonial
Williamsburg Foundation, Williamsburg, VA, 1938 and 1966.

Bryan, Mrs. Lettice. The Kentucky Housewife. Cincinnati, OH, 1839.

Donovan, Mary, Amy Hatrak, Frances Mills, and Elizabeth Shull,
written and illustrated by. The Thirteen Colonies Cookbook.
Montclair Historical Society, Montclair, NJ, 1975.

Emerson, Lucy. New-England Cookery. Montpelier, VT, 1808.

Farley, John. The London Art of Cookery. London, England, 1783.

Glasse, Hannah. The Art of Cookery Made Plain and Easy.
London, England, 1747.

Hatrak, Amy, Frances Mills, Elizabeth Shull, Sally Williams,
compiled and illustrated by. Fanny Pierson Crane, Her
Receipts, 1796
. Montclair Historical Society, Montclair,
NJ, 1974.

The New York Times. November 11, 1995. The New York
Times Company, NY, NY.

Raffald, Elizabeth. The Experienced English Housekeeper.
London, England, 1769.

Randolph, Mary. The Virginia Housewife. Washington, D.C., 1824.

Rombauer, Irma S. Joy of Cooking. Scribner (imprint
of Simon & Schuster), eighth edition, 2006 (continuously in print
commercially since 1936; first published by the author in 1931).

Simmons, Amelia. American Cookery. Albany, NY, second
edition, 1796.

Smith, Andrew Franklin. Author and food historian. Personal
correspondence via e-mail, 2011.

Smith, E. The Compleat Housewife. London, England, 1727.

Speaking of Conner Prairie…when I was employed as an Interpreter
there, beginning 25 years ago, I was frequently reminded of specific
principles to which I was required to adhere at all times. Of course,
being an institution that (at the time) prided itself on its first-person
capabilities, the main, and most important, one was that we always
be as historically-accurate as possible. Another, which constituted

A special invite: Yes! I'd visited often before becoming an employee.

A special invite: Yes! I’d visited often before becoming an employee.

the site’s very foundation, was that the three most important things
were research, research, and research! In turn, these two mandates
supported a third, namely, that if any interpreter wanted to make,
sew, wear, cook, build, create, or whatever, anything that had not
been done before, she or he must procure at least (as in a minimum;
more was ideal) three pieces of documentation. And preferably, that
person would find primary documentation (although, if none could
be found, secondary would, possibly, suffice), to prove that, indeed,
whatever “it” was, had existed or had been done, or worn, made,
cooked, built, and so on, during our time period (1836). At least,
that’s how I remember it. These mandates influenced my entire
experience at Conner Prairie. They’re also the foundation of all
I do, even to this day.

Okay. Great! So, what’s the point? Where is this going? Well,
here’s the deal…

You see, when I was at Conner Prairie (at least, as I recall, my
fading memory notwithstanding), “spider” was the word used
for this piece of cooking equipment:

my antiq bake kettle__post 10_24-2010

And no, I don’t know why. I never asked, and no one ever said.
It’s what I was told, and what I heard others say. I suppose,
maybe, it’s because of the three legs?

Nevertheless, then I moved East, where I found many people
who called the above pot a Dutch oven. That is, until I started
attending assorted hearth cooking classes and symposiums. There
I met dozens of fellow hearth cooks who, like me, were dedicated
to being as historically-accurate as possible. And they always
referred to it as a bake kettle.

What the heck?! So, which is it? A Dutch oven? Or a bake kettle?
Or hey, maybe a spider?

I’ve already thrown out the last one (spider), as I believe that’s
likely what this cooking implement is called:

006

Which makes sense. Three long legs. Kinda like a spider? But
I’ve also seen it simply referred to as a long-legged skillet.
Although, if you continue reading, you’ll see that I found one
citation with the word “spider.” It’s just the one, though. Or,
perhaps it’s a regional term? You know, it’s known as a “bake
kettle” in the East, and as a “spider” in the West? I don’t know.
Alas, more research specifically on this term is needed!

In any event, I’ve been searching for answers for quite awhile,
and I believe that I’ve found those requisite “at least three”
pieces of documentation. HUZZAH! Two are from primary
sources, and the others are from secondary. Of course, I’m
constantly on the prowl for additional evidence, especially
primary, but certainly these, below, satisfy that “Let’s see
your proof” mandate, as it was set forth at Conner Prairie.

In short, I’ve determined that this:

bz cd__tansey__outside WFM

is a bake kettle, and not a Dutch oven, because that’s what this is:

Biz Cd__reflec ov__bake ket__fire

And here’s why…

Documentation Number One, Primary Source

A tinsmith’s advertisement in The Pennsylvania Gazette
of May 16, 1765:

BENJAMIN HARBESON, HATH removed
from the House he formerly lived to
a House in Market street, at the Sign
of the gilded Still and Teakettle, next
door to the Widow Wister, and nearly
opposite to the Indian King; where
he continues to carry on his Tin and
Coppersmith Business as usual, and
hath for Sale, Stills, Brewing Coopers,
Washing Kettles, Boilers, Fish Kettles,
Dutch Ovens [emphasis mine], Stew
Pans, Preserving Pans, Chocolate and
Coffee Pots, Tea Kettles, Sauce Pans,
Plate Warmers, Coal Cases, brass
and iron Wire, Scales of all sorts,
Brass and Lead weights, with a
compleat Assortment of best
London Pewter, &c. &c.

Mr. Harbeson operated a “Tin and Coppersmith Business,”
so these “Dutch Ovens” would’ve been made of tin and/or
copper, not iron.

Documentation Number Two, Primary Source

From Mary Randolph’s The Virginia Housewife (1824):

TO ROAST POTATOES.
Wash and dry your potatoes, (all
of a size,) and put them in a tin
Dutch oven
[emphasis mine], or
cheese toaster; take care not to put
them too near the fire, or they will
get burned on the outside before
they are warmed through. Large
potatoes will require two hours
to roast them. To save time
and trouble, some cooks half
boil them first.

A key word here is “roast.” The main purpose of a reflector
oven is to roast meats and other food items. In addition,
it mentions not putting the potatoes “too near the fire,
or they will” burn. Although they might burn in a bake
kettle, it’d likely be because they were left too long or
there were too many coals under or on top, and not
because they were “too near the fire,” particularly
since placing the pot near a fire is not required.
It can be near or far. If that makes sense?!

Documentation Number One, Secondary Source

From Alan Davidson’s “Glossary” in Prospect Books’ facsimile
of (First Catch Your Hare,) The Art of Cookery Made Plain and
Easy
(1747), by Hannah Glasse:

TIN OVEN. The reference to a tin
oven, [on page] 91, is to the
Dutch oven‘ [emphasis mine]
which was in common use and
which stood in front of the fire.
The food being cooked was exposed
to direct heat and also to reflected
heat from the polished tin interior.
A door in the back could be opened
to permit viewing and basting.

"A tin (Dutch) oven from the Hugh Roberts collection." (c) Prospect Books, 2004

“A tin (Dutch) oven from the Hugh Roberts collection.” (c) Prospect Books, 2004

Incidentally, this refers to a receipt on page 91 of Glasse’s cookbook
for “Salmon in Cases.” It’s instructions state, in part, “…a Tin
Oven before the Fire does best.” Now, I’ve cooked this dish
several times, and yes, I used a “Dutch oven” or tin reflector
oven. It works surprisingly well!

Documentation Number Two, Secondary Source

Below is an image from another secondary source that supports
the use of the term “Dutch oven” to mean a tin reflector oven.
Note, too, that a low-lying cast iron pot with three legs and

Image (99)

a lid is referred to here as a “bake kettle.” This is from Home
Life in Colonial Days
(1898), by Alice Morse Earle. Though
her work is often discredited by historic researchers, she
was a pioneer in the field of domestic and social history
of early America. In addition, according to the “Preface,”
the illustrations in this book “are in every case [taken]
from real articles” that were held at the time in the
collections of Deerfield Memorial Hall, the Bostonian
Society, the American Antiquarian Society (as they were
then known), various state historical societies, and others.

Documentation Number Three, Secondary Source

Old Cooking Utensils, by Britisher David J. Eveleigh (sixth
edition, 2001; first, 1986), contains more evidence. In
the “Roasting, Broiling and Toasting” section, the author
mentions dutch ovens, describing them as “made of tinplate.”
In other words, they were reflector ovens:

Roasting screens, also known
as hasteners or dutch ovens
[emphasis mine], appeared
in the early eighteenth century.
They were made of tinplate
and stood in front of the fire,
the bright surface reflecting
the heat, reducing cooking
time and saving fuel. They
were made in various sizes,
the larger ones standing on
three legs. Most incorporated
a dripping pan and a door
in the back for basting.

There’s a term I’ve not heard before: “hasteners!” And
his timeline is a little off. Reflector ovens, whether made
of tin or copper, were in use even in the 17th century (see
NOTE for more information).

Later in this pamphlet-sized book is a drawing of “A cast
iron camp oven [a new term!] with three legs.”

Documentation Number Four, Secondary Source

Gertrude Lefferts Vanderbilt’s (she knew well the Lefferts
house that now sits in Brooklyn’s Prospect Park) 1882 book,
The Social History of Flatbush, contains these passages:

The roasting of meats and
poultry was done before
the open fire, in what was
called a Dutch oven [emphasis
mine
]. This was cylindrical
in form, but stood on four
feet, and the joint to be
cooked was held in place
by a long spit which
projected at each end,
so that the meat could be
turned without opening
the door of the cylinder.
It was of course open
to the front of the fire,
and there was a door
at the back for convenience
in basting.

And then:

For the baking of hot biscuit
for tea, or a single loaf of bread
or cake, a flat iron pot was used,
which was called a ‘bake-pan
or a ‘spider.’ [A-Ha! emphasis
mine
] This was placed in the
corner of the fireplace upon hot
coals, and a layer of hot coals
covered with ashes was placed
upon the tight-fitting iron lid.

So, there you have it. An abundance of documentary evidence,
from not three, but SIX sources, two primary and four secondary.
All of which tell us that the words “Dutch oven” refer to a tin
reflector oven and NOT to the low-lying three-footed cast iron
container with a lid. Instead, that piece of cooking equipment
is primarily referred to as a “bake kettle.”

Of course, I’ll keep looking for additional documentation. Who
knows what else I might find? Besides, there’s no such thing
as TOO much evidence! Eventually, I hope to do a search of
other receipts from historic cookbooks (such as the previous
one from Randolph) to see what words are used and in what
context. I know I’ve seen others in my work during the past
umpteen years. There’s also the question of when, and if,
the words used were possibly changed and/or switched or
even utilized interchangeably. There’s more to investigate!
And if any readers know of, or discover, other tid-bits
of documentation, I hope they’ll pass ’em along. Please
and thanks!

So, to review all of the above…this is a bake kettle:

IMG_1102

and this is a Dutch oven:

(c) 2014 MHS

(c) 2014 MHS

HUZZAH!

======================================================

NOTE:
I’ve written previously HERE and HERE that, based on period artwork,
reflector ovens were indeed available during the 17th century.

It was 25 years ago this month (most likely April 3, to be exact),
that I started working at what was then known as Conner Prairie
Living History Museum (CP) in my home state of Indiana.

Image (39)

Readers may recall that I’ve written previously about my
many adventures while employed
at Conner Prairie. It was
the birthplace of my passion for historic cooking. Even now,
I acknowledge that fact and am deeply grateful for the solid
foundation, both in general history and in historic foodways,
that was established there. Overall, my experience at Conner
Prairie was wonderful, and my years serving as an Interpreter
were some of the happiest, most glorious, of my life.

______________________________________________________________________

One of my stints as a cover girl while at CP!

Image (38)

______________________________________________________________________

However, sadly all is not well back there on the Prairie. At least,
in my view. The past that I knew, that I happily “lived,” shared
with, and interpreted for, thousands upon thousands of visitors
on a daily basis, is, sadly, no more. I say this based on what
I personally have seen and heard, as well as on what I’ve been
told by current employees and by fellow CP alums. The museum’s
emphasis now seems to be more on having a good time, rather
than on learning about the past. What daily transpires is more
“let’s have fun via interactive activities” and less “here’s how
inhabitants of this area and during this time (that’d be the year
1836, in central Indiana) lived, worked, and played.” In fact,
the institution’s very name has been changed to reflect this
new direction. No longer called a living history museum, it’s
now some type of fun-land, namely “Conner Prairie Interactive
Historic Park.” Even the site’s current slogan has veered
away from any semblance of history, living or otherwise,
with its bold proclamation of “Acres and Acres of Interactive
Awesomeness.” ugh. There’s a heavy sense of dread in my
very heart and soul. It feels as if a dear friend from long
ago has passed.

This new angle on daily operations at CP really hit home this
past summer when I was told of a blog written by a Danish
fellow* who was traveling around the United States with his
family, visiting different historical museums. One of his goals
was to determine which institutions offered the best interactive
experiences (yes, apparently that’s a vital criteria nowadays!).
The family went to several sites, including the Frontier Culture
Museum, Colonial Williamsburg, and the Henry Ford Museum.
Second on their itinerary was my once-beloved Conner Prairie.
I was eager to read what they thought.

Then, I saw this blog photo:

(c) 2015 Martins Museum Blog

(c) 2015 Martins Museum Blog

My heart sank. Seriously?!? I was simply dumbfounded…shocked…
dismayed…disappointed. Even angered. I couldn’t believe my eyes.

Why? Because below is the scene that used to greet visitors when
they walked into the kitchen of this same house:

Dr Campbell kitchen at CP c 1991

You saw a person (usually female, and in this particular case me,
but it could’ve been someone else portraying the same, or a similar,
character) DOING various kitchen-appropriate (wow, it’s a separate
room!) activities. She might be preparing a meal and cooking all or
parts of it on the cast iron cook-stove (oh, my! it’s the ONLY one
in town!) or “dressing” the good-sized table in the adjacent dining
room (again, wow, it’s separate!) with a cloth, napkins, plates,
and other assorted accoutrements or even beginning the process
of serving the folks seated therein. Or, if the meal had ended,
she might be clearing the table and washing-up all the dishes and
pots ‘n pans and putting them away in their proper spots. Naturally,
during all this, I would’ve, er, I mean, she would’ve explained each
step. Perhaps she’d start with the cook-stove, and how difficult it is
to keep it huffin’ ‘n puffin’ all day long and the challenges she faced
learning to cook on it, since, as with most females in this or any town,
she only knows how to cook on the open hearth. Then there’s
the incessant struggle to maintain a supply of stove firewood,
and the constant reminders she has to give the Doctor’s young
apprentice (or perhaps that fellow whose Contract for the Poor
Dr. Campbell holds) to chop it and fill the wood box. And then
all the times such help is non-existent, like the other day when
the Doctor and his assistant were out tending to patients, and
so she had to handle it herself. Of course, hopefully the gal
visitors encountered in this kitchen would talk non-stop (well,
I certainly did!) about the whys and wherefores of all that she

______________________________________________________________________

Me, not at the Doctor’s grand house, but at the potters’ plain ‘n rugged
one-room cabin at the edge of town, down toward the river:

Image (96)

______________________________________________________________________

was doing. Whether it was the sources of the foods that were
prepared (patients, as payment for the Doctor’s services) or
the reason for the separate rooms in the Campbell house just
for cooking, eating, and even sleeping (there were FIVE rooms!
most houses in town only had one or two) or what she really
thought of that handsome new schoolmaster, I’d, er, sorry,
I mean she, would gladly tell all. Then she’d likely yammer on
about herself and her family, her sister and two brothers, how
long she’d been the Campbell’s “hired girl,” what her duties
and chores are, and perhaps whether or not the Doctor is
a good and kind employer and how special her relationship
is with his wife, who’s teaching her about all the finer things
in life. She’s well aware that she works long hours, but she’s
mighty grateful to be able to contribute to her whole family’s
living expenses (particularly since her father passed not long
ago). And so on and so forth, ’til the day comes to an end.
Of course, the beauty and the value of it all is that, once
visitors left this kitchen and house, they could then compare
what they saw here with what they’d seen, or were going
to see, in all the other houses throughout Prairietown.

The bottom line is, visitors would’ve been able to LEARN SO
MUCH
about SO MANY things when they entered this kitchen
of Dr. Campbell’s house and chatted with the person they met
there. Through interaction with a real human being, the public
was informed, educated, and entertained. In short, it was fun!
But now, instead of an actual person showing and teaching
visitors by doing, explaining as she goes, and sharing oodles
of information, and answering your questions, both big and
small, and conducting a lively conversation, they get this:

(c) 2015 Martins Museum Blog

(c) 2015 Martins Museum Blog

Yep, a wall placard telling everyone how to “prepare and cook”
their own meal, complete with plastic food. What a deal!

So, I ask you, is this BETTER?!? I say no, but hey, that’s just
me and my opinion.

What’s interesting is that, apparently, Colonial Williamsburg has
now set its compass in the same direction. Some folks are all
for it, others are not. Personally, I have a problem with this
seemingly rampant “enh, it’s good enough” attitude. I mean,
come on! Showcasing the pirate Blackbird, who not only was
never in the town of Williamsburg, but was also killed in 1718,
long before the site’s primary time period?! And I was shocked
to read the new president’s comment, “The Blackbeard story
was fun, it was accurate-ish.” (emphasis mine)

Seriously?!?

Alas, maybe that’s what’s important nowadays. Fun. As opposed
to, say, acknowledging our historic past. And doing it accurately.
As opposed to “accurate-ish”-ly. Whatever. As far as I can tell,
it seems like it’s the ol’ Disney-fication effect, the one that
people feared was engulfing Conner Prairie years ago.

Of course, nothing’s more constant than change. The Conner
Prairie that I knew and visited when in grade school was vastly
different from what it had become by the time I was employed
as an Interpreter. For starters, back in those very early days,
it was called Conner Prairie Pioneer Settlement and Museum.
Then decades later, due to major shifts in the surrounding
population, even the site’s address changed, from Noblesville
to Fishers (which kinda made the reason for naming the onsite
eatery after Governor Noble rather nonsensical). Later on, when
working for the City of Indianapolis’ Parks Department, I attended
meetings at CP that were conducted in a renovated barn, before
the modern Visitor Center was built. And heck, I can remember
a time when the first-person village of Prairietown didn’t exist!

Image (86)

There have been other changes since my years at CP, many
of which seem inexplicable to me. Or maybe it’s just that
the site’s focus drifted more to offering what the public
expects, rather than on what’s historically correct. This,
from an institution that, at least when I was there, strived
for historical accuracy at all times and demanded the same
of its interpreters. In any event, there were things such as
the addition of a church (after all, every town had one, yes?
No! Not those in Indiana with a population under 200; besides,
not everyone was of the same religion, if any). Then the village
potters’ surname was changed from “Baker” to “Barker,” because,
you know, too many visitors were confused as to whether pots
or bread was baked in the kiln (despite the fact that the name
Baker was set when Prairietown was conceived, and it was
the actual name of an actual, real-life early 1800s Indiana
potter). Of course, I think the nail in the coffin was hammered
tight when the potters’ house was demolished (they now “live”
outside of town, just as most everyone else does) and their
shop moved up into town (makes for a nice little industrial
district, doesn’t it?!).

Image (79)

And don’t get me started on the $450 million Civil War exhibit!
(I might tell you what I really think! LOL oy) Whatever. I could
continue, but I won’t. Besides, it’s too painful! Nevertheless,
in the end, it seems that history is being, and has been, slowly
but surely, dumped by the wayside. ‘Cuz, you know, it’s allegedly
“not fun.” And that worries, even saddens, me.

In the end, I suppose the proof of any benefits, or lack thereof,
arising from all this mucking about will come decades from now,
when the general consensus is that citizens of the United States
are either more or less informed about the overall history of their
country, as well as that of their collective past, of themselves as
a people. I’m guessing it’ll be, perhaps, the latter, since it isn’t
particularly good now, but, again, that’s just me. It remains
to be seen.

In the meantime, I commemorate this 25th anniversary by bidding
a hearty farewell to a treasured past and moving forward with heaps
of fond memories. HUZZAH!

Image (78)

===================================

*NOTE: Naturally, the blog is in Danish.
To translate it, use
Google Translate. You’ll get
a version that’s understandable, albeit not perfect.
Copy the URL of the blog post and paste it into
the box on the left side of the Google Translate
page. Make sure you’re translating from Danish
to English, using the “Detect Language” function
on the left of the page, above the box. The URL
of the translated page will pop up on the right.
Then click the blue “Translate” box (also on
the right), and the translated web page will
replace the “Translate” page.
Hope that all
makes sense. Good luck!

As I’m sure you know, if you’ve read much of this blog,
I’m thoroughly fascinated with the preparation and
then the cooking of dishes over an open fire, be it
indoors at a hearth or outdoors at a fire pit. I enjoy
the entire process, from mixing historically-appropriate
ingredients to using antique or reproduction equipment
and tools to following each and every step of receipts

IMG_4667

found in various historic cookbooks. I particularly like
the ingredients, tools, procedures, even receipt titles,
that prompt those “Say, what?!” exclamations. Things
like treacle or mace, a spider or a coffin, syllabubs or
Naples biscuits, forcemeat or a jugged hare…the list
seems endless! And I’m always eager to try them all.
So I’ve been anxiously awaiting the opportunity to use
one specific and unique cooking method: collaring.

Everybody, now: “Say, what?!?”

Collaring is a method of cooking meat and fish that’s
been around for centuries. Receipts can be found
in many historic cookbooks, both published and
handwritten, for preparing beef, mutton, pork,
and yes, even fish (eel?!?), in this manner. The
meat is laid out flat (cut, if necessary, to do so),
herbs and spices are spread on top, it’s then rolled,
tied, wrapped in a cloth, and boiled. As to the term
“collar,” it’s believed to refer to its resemblance
to the real thing when coiled up in a cooking pot.
Maybe. Maybe not! I suppose no one really knows,
but it makes for a great story, yes?!

In any event, when I was informed late last year
that another “private” hearth cooking class* was
to be held this winter at The Israel Crane House,
I was VERY eager to include the collaring of a meat,
specifically pork, on the menu. So I had the House
staff check to make sure there were no objections
of any kind. There weren’t, so it was a go! And so,
our menu featured not only receipts for assorted
side dishes, but also one for “collaring” pork.
HUZZAH!

photo 1(3)

And now a few photos of our menu preparations…

54. To coller Pigg or Eals
from the manuscript cookbook of the Ashfield Family
of New York and New Jersey (c 1720s to 1780s):

does it look like a collar? you decide!

001

here it goes, happily boiling away in a mixture of half
water and half vinegar with a few herbs and spices…

005

012

TA-DA!!!
014

(c) 2016 Angelica Kane

(c) 2016 Angelica Kane

The half vinegar/half water “Liquor” that it was boiled
in made a great sauce.

Potatoes Fried in Slices or Ribbons,
from The Cook’s Own Book (1832),
by a Boston Housekeeper (Mrs. N.K.M. Lee):

008

(c) 2016 Angelica Kane

(c) 2016 Angelica Kane

Beets, Stewed

(c) 2016 Angelica Kane

(c) 2016 Angelica Kane

…and A Cheese Pudding,
both from Mrs. Lettice Bryan’s
The Kentucky Housewife (1839):

(c) 2016 Angelica Kane

(c) 2016 Angelica Kane

(c) 2016 Angelica Kane

(c) 2016 Angelica Kane

010

and last, but not least, Portugal Cakes
from The Art of Cookery, Made Plain and Easy,
by Hannah Glasse (1747):

002

This dish is supposed to be baked in individual tins.
However, not having any (dagnabit), we made one
large cake instead. I’ve been searching for a set
of small individual baking pans for quite some time,
but have yet to find any. I do have a few ceramic
ones, but not enough. So I’ll continue my search.
Or perhaps have some made? We’ll see!

It was a fantastic meal! HUZZAH! The ladies did
a terrific job. Each dish was absolutely delicious.
I tell you, there’s really nothing like food cooked
over an open fire! And everyone pitched in whenever
and wherever needed. In fact, things went so well,
that we ended early. Whodathunk?! I may have
to add extra dishes next time. Either that, or
a few that’re more difficult. All in all, everyone
had a marvelous time. I look forward to next year’s
“private” class!

(c) 2016 Angelica Kane

(c) 2016 Angelica Kane

______________________________

IMG_1102
*So-called because a woman who attended
one of the hearth cooking classes two or three
years ago at The Israel Crane House had such
a great time that she gathered several friends
together and made arrangements for the group
to participate in another. We’ve since dubbed
it the “private” hearth cooking class.

There are five major chain grocery stores in my neighborhood
that I can easily reach by walking. Of course, some are closer
than others. The distances range from a mere (?!) six blocks
to more than a mile. They all vary in size, as well. And then
there are the numerous, albeit much smaller, specialty stores
and bodegas. Not to mention the weekly farmers markets,
of which there are two. I must say, this wealth of, and
accessibility to, such a wide range of food stuffs in my own
neck o’ the woods is quite amazing. HUZZAH!

So what does this have to do with historic cooking? Well, alot!
Because when I need to buy food for use during any hearth
cooking event, whether it’s a demonstration, a talk, or a class,

010

I can go to one or more of the above stores. I know which
ones carry this or that particular ingredient and which don’t.
Or which offers it at a better price (aka cheaper). And most
importantly, which store or stores offer historically-accurate
ingredients, be it mace or quinces or unadulterated flour. Or
which sells the means for creating the same (i.e. pig fat so
that I can render my own lard). Sometimes when I decide
to cook a particular dish from this or that historic cookbook,
I’m able to procure all the necessary ingredients at just one
location, and at other times, I have to pay a visit to two or
more. I will say, though, that even I’m amazed at what I
can find relatively nearby. Even at the major so-called
“generic” mass-market chain stores such as Associated,
Key Food, and C-Town. And here in Brooklyn, no less. It’s
absolutely fantastic! HUZZAH, again!

However, a major glitch has reared its ugly head. The range
of historic dishes that I can prepare and cook, at any time
and at any historic site, may soon be sorely limited. In fact,
my ability to cook specific dishes may all but be eliminated
entirely, as my access to certain ingredients will be drastically
altered within just a few short months. You see, sadly, one
of the above-mentioned big chain stores, a 36,000 square
074foot freestanding supermarket,
with a similarly-sized parking
lot, the one that’s more than
a mile from my place, down
where Sterling Street meets
5th Avenue here in Park Slope,
namely the Key Food, will be
completely demolished. It’ll then be replaced by two shiny
new modern glass, concrete, and steel 165-unit apartment
buildings. Ain’t progress grand?! Bring in more people!
Destroy their major source of food! What a deal! lordy

070

This particular Key Food is where I can acquire several ingredients
that are appropriate for replicating dishes from the 18th and early
19th centuries. And in some instances, the ONLY place. Sure,
there’s another Key Food that’s closer to me. Just seven blocks,
in fact. It’s quite a hike of more than a mile, downhill to and up
from, to arrive at this one. But believe me, being able to purchase
specific ingredients that are appropriate for countless historic
receipts makes it worth the trip.

For starters, the 5th Avenue Key Food, and ONLY this Key Food,
has a set of bookshelves that constitutes its British section…

036

and there I can find treacle (aka treakle)…

040

which, as you may know, is NOT the same as molasses (an
item most any store carries). It IS different! Yes, you can
switch the one for the other, but doing so affects the taste
of the end product. I frequently make Gingerbread Cakes
in accordance with Hannah Glasse’s receipt in her cookbook
The Art of Cookery, Made Plain and Easy (1747), and she
specifies “treakle.” For me, nothing else will do!

Here’s the 5th Avenue Key Food’s wonderful and HUGE (in
comparison to so many other stores, even other Key Foods)
meat department, where I can find a plethora of items for use
in my various hearth cooking activities…

048

046

It’s where I find marrow bones, containing that all-important
marrow specified in numerous historic receipts…

028

and pig fat, so I can render my own lard, as well as salt pork,
otherwise known as smoked slab bacon…

024

There’s also plain ol’ sausages…

026

as you see, they’re called “Breakfast Sausage.” Yes, other stores
sell them, including the much-closer-to-me Key Food, but they’re
usually only the flavored varieties, those that contain herbs and
spices or cheese and tomato and so forth…which are too modern
and NOT what I need or want!

The 5th Avenue Key Food has a HUGE fresh produce section,
with nearly every vegetable and fruit you can imagine…

054

019

This is where I find small packaged bundles of herbs for only
99 cents! You can’t beat that. It’s just enough for the dishes
that require them…

021

and if I need more, they also have a larger size for $1.99…

022

The smaller Key Food has had neither. Since a recent remodeling,
however, it now offers the larger bundles…at the higher price
of 2 for $5. So in my book, it’s worth it to walk farther in order
to save a few coins (besides, it’s good exercise! LOL). And if I
need something else that only this Key Food offers, or really
just any other item, all the better.

On a personal note, this is the only store (at least, of which
I’m aware) that sells bags (not boxes) of Kit ‘n Kaboodle, one
of my kitty’s favorite dry foods…

023

And here’s the frozen food section, where I can find my beloved
Stouffer’s frozen entrees. When all was said and done, the other
Key Food eliminated eight frozen food cases upon finishing its
remodeling project. Which meant that several items had to be
jettisoned, including the entire range of Stouffer’s that had
been previously offered. Sacre bleu!

052

A few more interior shots of this soon-to-be-gone good-sized
supermarket. It’s just expansive! In both space, layout, and
variety and diversity of products offered.

049

044

056

057

In case anyone’s interested, here’s what’s possibly going
to be built soon to replace this neighborhood’s beloved
5th Avenue Key Food supermarket…

(c) 2016 Avery Hall Investments

(c) 2016 Avery Hall Investments

Incidentally, at a recent Community Meeting about the project,
the rep from Avery Hall Investment (AHI) made a big deal of that
“pedestrian-only” walkway. or “piazza,” where people “will be able
to sit and chat, and have a cup of coffee.” My immediate thought
was, “HA! Have you seen the nearly 600-acre green space just up
a few blocks? It’s quite lovely, with trees, a lake, and everything!
It’s been there for more than a century. Hello! Prospect Park?!
Not to mention popular Washington Park, just down 5th Avenue.”
Golly. Don’t give us what we need, but give us something we don’t.
So ridiculous.

Speaking of that Community Meeting, here’s one report. As it
mentions, I, too, thought I was attending a meeting where
the possibility of the 5th Avenue Key Food being sold and
replaced with new development would be merely discussed.
And ONLY discussed. Boy, was I wrong! It soon became clear,
not only from the meeting’s outcome, but also from a discussion
I had immediately afterward with a current Key Food employee,
that it’s a done deal. Apparently, the owner has been looking
to sell for some time; he was just waiting for the right deal,
and this is it. So the property’s been sold, finances secured,
the developer/investor chosen, moneys exchanged…it’s final…
the end is near. I must say, it was extremely disheartening
to learn that the current store owner seems to have moved
quietly, securing his deal without considering for a moment
how it might affect any of his loyal customers. Let alone
without seeking their input. It’s too bad. Like it or not,
we’ll just have to shop elsewhere. Or do without.

Alas, so it goes. Sorry to see you go, 5th Avenue Key Food!
I’ll certainly miss you and those items that only you offer.

068

This year will soon be gone. Yep, in just a few short
hours, 2015 will slide into the history books. And so
I thought I’d write up one last post before it goes!

The Israel Crane House was again part of the annual
Essex County (NJ) Historic Holiday House Tour, which
took place the weekend of December 5 and 6. Of course,
I was busyImage (63) in the Crane kitchen, where
visitors were welcomed with a variety
of foods to sample. The spread featured
the usual suspects: Gingerbread Cakes;
Pounded Cheese (with crackers); and
Shrewsbury Cakes. Newly-added were
Chocolate Drops. As in previous years,
we offered hot spiced cider, dried apple
slices, a ham, chestnuts, candied orange
peels, and more. No one left hungry, that’s for sure!

I always look forward to this annual event, and this year
was no exception. The best part (besides the yummy food!)
is all the lively, in-depth conversations I have with those
who stop by the kitchen to see “what’s cooking.” It’s never
a dull moment. I have fun every year. I trust the visitors
do, too! HUZZAH!

Welcome to the Crane kitchen. Come on in!

008

Our spread of goodies:

010

New for 2015 were these tasty Chocolate Drops:

023

I prepared and cooked a dish each day, as well. First I made
a “Squash Pudding” (Saturday) and then a “Tart of the Ananas,
or Pine-Apple” (Sunday).

Both were baked in the bake kettle:

017

the Squash Pudding:

014

the Pine-Apple Tart:

021

Our spiced cider heated up over the fire each day:

004

Also new this season was a sweetmeat I saw Stephen Schmidt,
a fellow member of Culinary Historians of New York (CHNY),
make during the “Eating Through Time” symposium held this
past fall at the New York Academy of Medicine (NYAM). As he
did, I followed the “To Make White Marmalet of Quinces” receipt
from Martha Washington’s Booke of Cookery (circa 1550-1625).

Here is a portion of one of two batches I made:

024

I was also busy hearth-side on December 15 for “Family Fun
Day,” when I made oodles of “Dough Nuts,” all in accordance
with a receipt in Seventy-Five Receipts for Pastry, Cakes, and
Sweetmeats
(1828), by Eliza Leslie. We had more hot spiced
cider, as well.

Little nut-sized balls of dough ready to be boiled:

002

the fire doing its magic with our Dough Nuts and our cider:

010

TA-DA! our Dough Nuts! YUM!

014

All in all, we had lots of good eats at The Israel Crane House
this year. Here’s to another fantastic and tasty year of cooking
over an open fire in 2016! HUZZAH!

Happy New Year to one and all!

016

It’s time once again for us all to hail the woman who’s largely
responsible for “inventing” our Thanksgiving holiday, and that
woman is…drum roll, please…Sarah Josepha Hale! Yes, we
should all hail Hale! (get it? it’s a funny…you know, ‘cuz
the two words sound the same!).

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, particularly
in the South (for obvious reasons!). 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!

===============================================
===============================================

For more factual information about our annual feast day, check
out the following:

New England, in the time of the so-called “Pilgrims,” when a day
of thanksgiving meant a day spent listening to religious sermons
and of fasting, NOT feasting:

http://marybarrettdyer.blogspot.com/2013/11/thanksgiving-in-new-
england-no-parties.html

____________________

And from those who “live” it daily at Plimoth Plantation:

http://hazelwood.patch.com/groups/house-and-home/p/discovering-thanksgiving-the-truth-about-the-holiday

There are plenty more, but I’ll let you search for ’em!

Oh, and in case anyone’s noticed, yes, this is a repeat of what I posted
at this time last year…and the year before that and…

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