The Aussie Barbecue.

Australia was alive with barbecues yesterday (which is still today for some of you), as many good citizens burnt all manner of proteins in the name of patriotism (it being our national day and all.)
I rather belatedly wondered when the Australia Day barbecue ‘tradition’ became established. The short answer arrived at from my short search is - not many decades ago. I did come across a few interesting ‘barbecue’ recipes in my search, which I have put away for a future historical barbecue event.

The first one was under the heading ‘Breakfast Dishes’, and I see no good reason not to start the national day next year with “Ham on the Barbie.”

Barbecued Ham.
Fry slices of cold boiled ham; keep warm while you stir into the gravy left in the pan four teaspoonfuls of vinegar, mixed with a teaspoonful of mustard, a teaspoonful of sugar, half a teaspoonful of catsup or chilli sauce and a little pepper. Boil up once and pour on the fried ham. This dish is sometimes called "devilled ham," and is a good spur to appetite.
Western Mail (Perth, WA) March 3, 1894

Barbecued ham appeared again in an article on how to cook ham in The Brisbane Courier of December 10, 1913.

Barbecued Ham.
Slice cold boiled ham, and fry it in its own fat. Remove the slices into another dish, and keep it hot while there is added to the fat a teaspoonful of white sugar, a little pepper, and a second teaspoonful of made mustard and three tablespoonfuls of vinegar. Let this boil up once and pour it over the ham. Serve hot.

Of course, seriously dinky-die Aussies won’t eat anything other than our national meat on our national day. I give you a recipe from The Australian Women’s Weekly of October 20, 1934 for the sort of barbecued lamb you have when you don’t have a barbecue.

Barbecued Lamb.

Slices of cold roast lamb reheated in a sauce made as follows: 2 tablespoons butter, 1 tablespoon vinegar, ¼ cup redcurrant jelly, ¼ teaspoon French mustard, salt, and cayenne to taste. Serve with mashed potato and moulds of spinach.

And what would a barbecue be without burgers? Here is a nice idea from The Australian Women’s Weekly of February 19, 1944.

Barbecued Patties (With Apple Rings.)
One pound minced meat, 1 tablespoon chopped onion, ½ teaspoon salt, 1 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce, 2 tablespoons flour, 2 cooking apples, 1 tablespoon melted dripping or cooking oil, mixed spice, parsley.
Pound together meat, onion, salt, sauce, and flour, and form into patties. Dry fry or grill, turning frequently. Peel, core, and slice apples into ½ inch rings. Saute in dripping or brush with melted fat and grill. Sprinkle lightly with spice while hot. A brushing with brown sugar mixed with spice gives a good glaze and flavour. Serve patties on apple rings, brush with parsley and serve at once. For four.

Quotation for the Day.

The barbecue has endured as an institution because nobody has been allowed to put on an apron and begin monkeying with it.
Columnist in The Queenslander, Brisbane, June 26, 1930.

The Larder

Today in the kitchen word series it is the turn of the larder. Who has a larder these days? Nowadays the word ‘larder’ is sometimes used as a synonym for ‘pantry’, especially if the writer is aiming for a nostalgic feel - the original usage was, however, quite different.

As with ‘pantry’, ‘larder’ has a French heritage, and is no doubt another legacy of those pesky Normans who invaded England in 1066. The OED gives the first recorded use in English as being in 1305, but undoubtedly the word was in use long before this. ‘Larder’ is related, quite obviously, to lard – pig fat, in other words. Originally a larder was a room in which meat (originally probably bacon) was stored, and naturally also other foodstuffs prone to rapid spoilage found a home on its shelves.

The modern refrigerator has of course taken the place of the domestic larder. Before refrigeration technology, a great deal of careful planning went into the building of the larder, as the following extract from The English cookery book: uniting a good style with economy ... by John Henry Walsh, (1859)

The Larder, which is the place set apart for keeping fresh provisions is, and also, in most cases, for the salting of pork, beef, &c., should be placed where it has a thorough draught, and where it is sheltered from the sun. A northerly aspect is therefore the most suitable, or, next to that, an easterly one. The thorough draught cannot always be procured directly; but if it cannot in that way, a large air-drain may be carried under the floor to the opposite side of the house, where a grating may be fixed, and thus a free draught may be obtained. Underground larders are seldom efficient for the keeping of meat, because this perfect draught is not attainable except in windy weather, when there is little difficulty in effecting its preservation; but in moist and muggy weather the air is quite stagnant in the basement story of a town house, and consequently, though tolerably cool, the air is not rapidly changed, and putrefaction goes on without let or hindrance. To fit up a larder for a small house merely requires a number of deal shelves and a door, of which the panels are replaced by plates of perforated zinc, of a pattern sufficiently close to prevent the entrance of flies, yet large enough to admit the air freely. Where there is also a window, it should in like manner be guarded by similar sheets of zinc.

I know I promised at the beginning of the week that all recipes would be from the seventeenth century – I have no idea why I promised that, it seemed like a good idea at the time, but instead I give you one from the same source as the above quotation.

Egg and Bacon Pie to Eat Cold.
Steep a few thin slices of bacon all night in water, lay them in a pie dish; beat eight eggs with a pint of cream, add pepper and salt, and pour it on the bacon; cover with a crust, and bake in a moderate oven the day before you require it.


Quotation for the Day.

Next was November, he full gross and fat, As fed with lard, and that right well might seem; For, he had been a fatting hogs of late.
Edmund Spenser

The Essence of Ham.

Today, to brighten up these hard economic times, I give you one of my favourite stories of reckless extravagance in the search for food perfection. It concerns the eighteenth century Charles de Rohan, prince de Soubise (the supposed inventor of the sauce that bears his name - “the discovery of which was more glorious than twenty victories”). The Prince “rejoiced in a cook of large views, economy being his least weakness” by the name of Bertrand. One day, wishing to give a magnificent supper to the “beauty and wit of Paris”, the prince ordered Bertrand to draw up a proposed menu and list of provisions. Apparently the chef’s estimate “had no hypocrisy about it; it was sublimely reckless.” The first item on the list was for fifty hams.

‘What Bertrand,’ said the prince, ‘you surely are not in earnest? Fifty hams! Do you wish then to treat my whole regiment ?’ ‘No, my prince only one of those hams will appear on the table; but the other forty nine are not the less necessary for flavouring, whitening, garnishing,’ &c &c. ‘Bertrand, you rob me, and this article shall not pass.’ ‘Ah monseigneur,’ said the artist with difficulty choking his rising choler; ‘you do not know our resources. You have but to order, and these fifty hams which now so much annoy you shall be dissolved into a crystal phial not bigger than my thumb.’ The prince laughed, signified assent by a nod of the head, and the charge for the fifty hams passed muster.’

Every chef should wish for such a master.

I have previously given you a recipe which requires essence of ham – an eighteenth century Rich Caper Sauce. Methinks it is unlikely that any of you would purchase forty nine hams to get some concentrated stock, so here is a different interpretation from one of my favourite sources, Domestic Economy, for rich and poor, by a lady (1827).

Essence of Ham.
Essence of ham is not expensive; so far the reverse, that there is much waste when it is not made: and when it is attended to, hams are always higher-flavoured. If cured at home more attention is paid to the manner of curing them, and also in the manner of cooking, in cleaning, and paring which is of more consequence to the flavour of the ham than is generally imagined. If they are cooked in wine ale or cider these liquors are not lost .When the ham is taken up, the essence is either to be immediately finished or put into a proper pan in a cold cellar till it is convenient; part of it of course will be reduced to glaze the ham. When the essence is to be finished take off the cake of fat, and reduce it to one third; strain it through a close wet linen bag while warm. As ham skin is excellent for covering meats that are braising they may also be put in from time to time in the stock pot, as they will dissolve and add to the flavour and richness of the sauce.


Quotation for the Day.

Where there is no extravagance there is no love, and where there is no love there is no understanding.
Oscar Wilde.

Second Supper.

Before I fold away this idea of more meals in the day (temporarily that is, I have more meals for you yet) – I want to talk about second supper. I must be well on the way to getting honorary Hobbit citizenship now.

Once upon a time, there was rere-supper. Sir Walter Scott described it thus, in 1833, in Woodstock:

“Rere-suppers (quasi arriére) belonged to a species of luxury introduced in the jolly days of King James’s extravagance and continued through the subsequent reign. The supper took place at an early hour, six or seven o’clock at lates – the rere-supper was a postliminary banquet, a horse d’oeuvre, which made its appearance at ten or eleven, and served as an apology for prolonging the entertainment till midnight.”

The name comes from an obsolete form of ‘rear’ – presumably because it happens at the rear-end of the day. Sir Walter may have gotten the description right, but he was wrong about its origin. It was not King James’ idea, second supper had been around since at least the fifteenth century, but seems to have died out during the nineteenth century. The idea must be due for revival, surely? His countrywoman and contemporary, the writer Christian Isobel Johnstone (aka Mistress Margaret (Meg) Dods) discussed the requirements in her wonderful book, The Cook and Housewife’s Manual (1828),

“When a formal supper is set out, the principal dishes are understood to be roasted game or poultry, cold meats sliced, ham, tongue, collared and potted things, grated beef, Dutch herring, kipper, highly-seasoned pies of game, &c. &c., with, ccasionally, soups, - an addition to modern suppers which, after the, heat and fatigue of a ball-room, or large party, is found peculiarly grateful and restorative. Minced white meats, lobsters, oysters, collared eels, and crawfish, dressed in various forms ; sago, rice, the more delicate vegetables, poached eggs, scalloped potatoes, or potatoes in balls, or as Westphalia cakes, are all suitable articles of the solid kind. To these we may add cakes, tarts, possets, creams, jellies in glasses or shapes, custards, preserved or dried fruits, pancakes, fritters, puffs, tartlets, grated cheese, butter in little forms, sandwiches; and the catalogue of the more stimulating dishes, as anchovy toasts, devils, Welsh, English, and Scotch rabbits, roasted onions, salmagundi, smoked sausages sliced, and those other preparations which are best adapted to what among ancient bon vivants was called the rere-supper.”

The Westphalia Cake turns out to be a ham and potato meatloaf. It might be a good idea to file away for the post-Christmas season.

Westphalia Loaves for a Supper Dish, or to eat with Veal, &c.
Grate four ounces of good lean ham, and mix it with a pound of good potatoes, mashed with butter. Add salt, pepper, and two eggs, to bind the ingredients. Mould this into small loaves, or shape it in patty-pans, and fry and serve in a brown gravy, or alone.

P.S. In a previous story we had Pickled Herrings: a French way for a rere-supper, also from Mistress Dods.

P.P.S: "The Old Foodie" will be three years old on Friday! By the birthday there will be 864 posts. Hard to believe - for the Old Foodie at any rate.

Quotation for the Day …

And please don't cook me, kind sirs! I am a good cook myself, and cook better than I cook, if you see what I mean. I'll cook beautifully for you, a perfectly beautiful breakfast for you, if only you won't have me for supper.

Bilbo Baggins to the Trolls in The Hobbit, J.R.R. Tolkien

Too much Bumboo.

March 31 ...

An eighteenth century Sussex village shopkeeper by the name of Thomas Turner kept a diary for a number of years, and although it is by no means as comprehensive as those of our friends Samuel Pepys and James Woodforde, it still gives a fascinating insight into community life of the time. On Friday last week (the 28^th) I was going to give you his diary entry for that day in 1756, but the idea got pushed rudely aside in view of the vehement feedback on the Aussie damper issue.

I give you his diary entry belatedly today:

“I went down to Jones, where we drank one bowl of punch and two muggs of bumboo; and I came home again in liquor; Oh! With what horrors does it fill my heart, to think that I should be guilty of doing so, and on a Sunday too! Let me once more endeavour never, no never to be be guilty of the same again.”

I had never heard of ‘bumboo’ (bumbo, bombo) until I reaed that entry. It is a sort of toddy, made from rum, water, sugar, and nutmeg, and it clearly has a link with the sugar-producing colonies. I wonder how it made its way to a Sussex village?

Bumboo was apparently a drink of choice for sailors, sugar workers, and many plantation owners. It was useful at election time for those who wished to persuade, bribe, or confuse potential voters to their cause – including apparently George Washington in 1758. There is a fascinating account of its use in Virginia in the 1770’s written by ‘an old English officer’ called J.F.D Smyth; he was clearly very snooty and did not think much of the local American born estate-owners:

‘The gentleman of fortune rises about nine o’clock ; when perhaps he walks as far as his stables, which is seldom more than the distance of fifty yards from his house. After seeing his horses he returns to breakfast, which generally consists of tea or coffee, bread and butter, with very thin flices of venison-ham, or hung-beef. He then lies on a pallat, on the floor, in the coolest room in the house, in his shirt and trowsers only, with a negroe at his head, and another at his feet, to fan him and keep off the flies. Between twelve and one he takes a draught of bumbo, or toddy, a liquor composed of water, sugar, rum, and nutmeg, which is made weak, and kept cool. He dines between two and three, and at every table, whatever else there may be, a ham and greens or cabbage, is always a standing dish. At this meal he drinks as he pleases , of cyder, toddy, punch, port, claret, and madeira. Having drank some few glasses of wine after dinner, he returns to his pallat, with his two blacks to fan him, and continues to drink toddy, or sangaree, the whole afternoon. He does not always drink tea. Between nine and ten in the evening he eats a light supper of milk and fruit, or wine, sugar, and fruit, &c. and almost immediately retires to bed for the night."

Ham obviously figured large in the diet in that time and place. Virginia ham has a famous reputation, and one day I hope to try it out for myself. In the meanwhile, I give you some recipes for the inevitable, interminable slices that come from a single leg.

Royal Ham Sandwiches.
Chop up some boiled ham and the yelks of three or four hard-boiled eggs, according to quantity required. Press all through a collander, then cream a tablespoonful of best butter and mix with the ham and eggs; a teaspoonful of prepared mustard is a nice additional flavor; spread between thin slices of bread and cut around or fold up as you desire. An empty baking powder can will do to use as a cutter.
[Aunt Babette's" Cook Book: Foreign and domestic receipts for the household. 1889]

[To use Scraps of Ham]
To economise the scraps left from boiled ham, chop fine, add some of the fat also chopped, and put in a baking-plate, first a layer of bread-crumbs, then a layer of mixed fat and lean, then another layer of crumbs, and so on till all is used, putting a few bits of fat over the top; pour over it a little water, or a dressing of some kind, and set in oven till a nice brown. This is delicious for breakfast, or for a "picked up dinner," after having made a soup from the bone, well cracked and simmered for three hours with a few sliced potatoes and rice, or dried corn and beans which have first been soaked and parboiled. In boiling hams, always select an old ham; for broiling, one recently cured. After boiling and skinning a ham, sprinkle well with sugar and brown in oven.
[Buckeye Cookery, And Practical Housekeeping. 1877]

Tomorrow’s Story …

Tree fruit.

Quotation for the Day …

Carve a ham as if you were shaving the face of a friend. Henri Charpentier.

The Language of Ham.

Today, October 5^th …

Not many of us, I venture, cure our own hams today. Should you want to know a prize-winning method, here is one from the Scientific American magazine on this day in 1850:

MONTGOMERY PRIZE HAM.
Mr. Nathan White, of Montgomery county, Maryland, gives the following as the recipe by which the prize ham at the late Fair was cured:
The pork should be perfectly cold before being cut up. The hams should be salted with bloom salt, with a portion of red pepper, and about a gill of molasses to each ham. Let them remain in salt five weeks; then hang them up, and smoke with hickory wood for five or six weeks. About the first of April take them down, and wet them with cold water, and let them be well rubbed with unleached ashes. Let them remain in bulk for several days, and then hang them in the loft again for use.

I have always been a bit confused about pork terminology. What is the difference between ham and gammon and bacon anyway? And what about the old word “flitch”, where does it come in? I started, as I often do, with the OED. I ended with as much uncertainty as I started with. Many centuries and much regional variation have wreaked their havoc on whatever the original differences and uncertainties may have been. About the only clear thing to emerge from my wanderings in etymology was that those who consider the difference being that gammon is the raw version of cured pork and ham the cooked version are in the minority.

For what they are worth, here are some of my random gleanings: you may be able to add some ideas, and together we may obtain clarity.

Flitch: This seems to be the oldest word. The OED is not confident of its origins (which seems to be a good sign of great antiquity), but dates its first surviving recorded use to the year 700. The venerable dictionary gives its definition as “the side of an animal, now only of a hog, salted and cured; a ‘side’ of bacon.”

Ham: According to the OED is probably descended from an old Teutonic word for “crooked” and originally referred to the bend of the knee, and by extension then to thigh and buttock. Its use dates from about the year 1000. It now usually refers to “ the hind leg of the pig, from above the hock, which is separated from the carcass and salted and dried separately. It is sometimes also smoked.”

Bacon: This refers to “the back and sides of a pig”, is from old Teutonic or old Dutch, and is recorded in the year 1330. “Back” and “Bacon” do have a certain similar ring to them, do they not? Nowadays it tends to refer to the meat that “comes from the side of a pig that has been cured by salting in a single piece.

Gammon: appears to originate from Old French (think of jambe, meaning leg), suggesting it may be a legacy from that Norman invasion in 1066 which left a permanent mark on so many British food words – although the OED records it as late as 1486. In modern usage it most usually refers to “the same joint as ham, but is left attached to the animal during bacon curing, the front legs treated in the same way are also known as gammon.”

We have hardly scratched the surface of ham language – there is the issue of your breakfast slices or rashers or slabs or strips or collops. There is a discussion of the curing (wet or dry) and smoking (or not) of the pig or pieces of pig too, and what about cooked ham vs raw ham? And Westphalian or York or Prosciutto or Pancetta and Jamon Ibérico? Will someone please write the definitive book on Ham?

Perhaps tomorrow, time permitting (and I need and excuse to procrastinate on some real writing), I will give you a few more of my random comments on the topic, but until then, I leave you with this delightful-sounding take on French toast.

BACON TOAST.
Cut off the ends of a stale French brick, and lard the middle of it with streaked bacon, then, with a very sharp knife, cut the loaf in slices, about a quarter of an inch thick, dip them in eggs, and fry gently in a very hot pan till of a good colour; serve with a little clear sauce and a little vinegar and pepper.
[The Illustrated London Cookery Book; Frederick Bishop, 1852]

Monday’s Story …

An accidental oven.

Quotation for the Day ...

A couple of flitches of bacon are worth fifty thousand Methodist sermons and religious tracts. They are great softeners of temper and promoters of domestic harmony. William Cobbett (1821)