Time for Elevenses.

Our quest for an increase in the number of daily meals continues, with inspiration and assistance from history. After our ‘dewbit’, first breakfast, and second breakfast, we have a serious choice: do we have ‘brunch’ or ‘elevenses’ before luncheon ? Brunch seems more of an idle, weekend affair, whereas ‘elevenses’ is for the working day, so perhaps we had better stick with the latter, it being Tuesday and all.

‘Elevenses’ (‘elevensies’ if you are a Hobbit, or a non-Hobbit with a penchant for puerile language) refers, as the word itself suggests, to food taken at eleven in the morning. Actually, the word applies not to the mere snack itself, but to the whole concept of a brief, healing pause in the crisis of the day. It is peculiarly British, and is rather more significant than its common definition of “a light informal snack” would suggest. It is, in fact, an institution, an inviolable right, a routine without which the British could not (would refuse to) continue with their working day. (Note to any country considering invading Britain: do it at eleven a.m. when everyone’s attention is focused elsewhere.)

Alan Davidson, in his wonderful Oxford Companion to Food, dates the origin of the word to the late eighteenth century. I have been unable to find any references before the early nineteenth century, but I do not pretend the wisdom and brilliance of the great man, so you must be content with my findings for now. The word (concept) sometimes appears as ‘elevens’ or ‘eleveners’, and there are certainly references in the 1830’s to ‘elevenses’. I was delighted to find that once upon a time there was also ‘fourses’ (or fourzes) - another lost meal to add to our collection – a similar snack and break from toil taken at that hour of the afternoon. From the OED:

1849 W. & H. RAYNBIRD Agric. Suffolk vi. 296 The name ‘fourzes’ and ‘elevens’, given to these short periods of rest and refreshment, show when taken.

Tea is essential to ‘elevenses’. Only Americans and other foreigners take coffee. The tea is accompanied by a sweet biscuit (a ‘cookie’ if you are an American) – not one of a novel or gimmicky nature, please, but a reliable and comfortingly familiar classic. Here is one such example for you, from Cassell’s Dictionary of Cookery (1870’s)


Ginger Biscuits.
Rub four ounces of fresh butter into half a pound of flour, and add three table-spoonfuls of sugar, half an ounce of ground ginger, and one egg beaten up with a little milk, into a smooth paste. Make up into small round biscuits, and bake on buttered paper for eight or ten minutes; leave a little distance between each cake.


Quotation for the Day.

It is more fun to talk with someone who doesn't use long, difficult words but rather short, easy words like "What about lunch?
Winnie-the-Pooh.

Breakfast at the top.

On this day in 1750, the very wealthy French writer Mme. Anne-Marie Fiquet du Bocage breakfasted with the very wealthy English socialite and writer Mrs. Elizabeth Montague (whom she incorrectly refers to as ‘Lady Montagu.’) Mme. de Bocage kept up a regular correspondence with her sister while she travelled in England and Europe, and her report of the visit gives a fascinating insight into life at the top of the social pyramid at the time.

"In the morning, breakfasts, which enchant as much by the exquisite viands as by the richness of the plate on which they are served up, agreeably bring together the people of the country and strangers. We breakfasted in this manner to-day, April 8, 1750, at Lady Montagu's in a closet lined with painted paper of Pekin, and furnished with the choicest movables of China. A long table, covered with the finest linen, presented to the view a thousand glittering cups, which contained coffee, chocolate, biscuits, cream, butter, toasts, and exquisite tea. You must understand that there is no good tea to be had anywhere but in London. The mistress of the house, who deserves to be served at the table of the gods, poured it out herself. This is the custom, and, in order to conform to it, the dress of the English ladies, which suits exactly to their stature, the white apron and the pretty straw-hat become them with the greatest propriety, not only in their own apartments, but at noon, in St. James's Park, where they walk with the stately and majestic gait of nymphs."

Here is a nice eighteenth century recipe, perfectly do-able today, for a fine biscuit suitable for breakfast or after-dinner coffee, or any occasion really. It is from Bradshaw’s valuable family jewel. ... Containing all that relates to cookery, pastry, ... bread making, oat cakes, &c. With a great number of other necessary articles, ... By Mrs. Penelope Bradshaw, and the late ingenious Mr. Lambart (1748)

To make Bisket Drops.

Beat six eggs in a Pan with a Whisk, very well, put in a Pound of sifted Sugar, by Degrees, beat it a little longer, then drain your Whisk, and sift in something more than a Pound of Flour, and put in Carraway-Seeds as you like it; then with a Spoon and Knife lay them round (what Size you please) on Wafer-paper, laid on a Wire, and dust them very well with sifted Sugar, and bake them in a moderate Oven; when they are cool, chip off the Wafer around the Edges, and put them in a Box for Use.


Quotation for the Day.

Powdermilk biscuits: Heavens, they're tasty and expeditious! They're made from whole wheat, to give shy persons the strength to get up and do what needs to be done. … Powder Milk biscuits: Buy them ready-made in the big blue box with the picture of the biscuit on the front, or in the brown bag with the dark stains that indicate freshness.
Garrison Keillor.

Not enough butter.

June 5 ...

Saving every scrap and drip of fat rendered in the kitchen was a patriotic act for housewives in the Allied countries during both World Wars. Every scrap and drip was almost as good as a bomb on the enemy, because even the blackest grungiest smelliest grease contains a very desirable 10% of glycerine – desirable because it is an essential ingredient in explosives. The fat was collected in empty cans kept beside the stove, and these were collected, usually by the local butcher, and sent to the munitions factory. The authorities were very serious about the saving of fat - a good housewife could earn two extra meat ration points for every pound of fat collected.

The other half of the patriotic culinary effort was reducing the use of fat in the first place, and this was enforced via rationing. In Australia on this day in 1944, the butter ration was reduced to 6 ounces, which was still very luxurious compared with the miserable 2 ounces allowed in Britain. There were all sorts of strategies promoted to offset the inconvenience of not enough fat for cooking. The whole idea seems bizarre today when we are told constantly that fat is poison. At the time however, fat was very desirable: it was necessary to feed you, fill you up, make you grow, and give you strength. There were no gyms, no brand-name gym shoes, and if one was seen running around the neighbourhood barely dressed, one’s neighbours would have called the police on one. Everyone simply moved about more, that’s the difference.

With such a dearth of fat the home baker had to be very creative. Both sides of the problem – finding enough fat and not wasting any fat – were got around partially by making cakes with fats that would not previously have been considered. In a previous story we found out about ‘codfat’ – which is not what it seems - and according to an Australian cookbook of the time made a great Pineapple Cake. Here is another recipe from the same book – some delicious cookies that use the dripping carefully saved from your Sunday roast – if you can stop the family spreading it on their bread, crunchy bits and all, that is.

Glamorous Cookies.
If you want a lovely rich tasting dark brown cookie try this: Melt together one generous tablespoon of clarified beef dripping, one big tablespoon of honey (just as you lift the spoon from the jar) and quarter teacup of brown sugar – the darkest you can buy. When boiling stir in one teaspoon baking soda dissolved in one tablespoon hot water. Cool a little while it bubbles. Then add a lightly whisked egg. Stir well. Flavour with vanilla or orange essence. Pour into it the following mixture.
Two cups sifted flour, one cup rolled oats, a saltspoon of salt and a big cup of raisins or sultanas (or mixed fruits.) Blend to a stiff consistency with the hot honey liquid. Allow to stand for ten minutes. Then put by small teaspoonful on a greased oven slide. Bake in a moderate heat until deep golden brown (approx. 36) Because you have mixed these cookies hot, there is no risk of them spreading flat in the oven.

Tomorrow’s Story …

Afternoon tea with Jane.

Quotation for the Day …

Eating is not merely a material pleasure. Eating well gives a spectacular joy to life and contributes immensely to goodwill and happy companionship. It is of great importance to the morale. Elsa Schiaparelli.