St George’s Day.

Today, April 23rd …

Today is the feast day of St George, the patron saint of England. In honour of the day, Sam at Becks‘n Posh has challenged bloggers to demonstrate why English food is not a joke.

A joke is something open to ridicule, not to be taken seriously, a laughing-stock. I put it to you that English food must be taken very seriously. There is nothing ridiculous about oysters from Chester, cheese from Wensleydale, bacon from Bath (especially that from the cheeks or chaps of the local pig), apples from Somerset, and roast beef from just about anywhere. Sure, the names of some English puddings are good for a laugh – Spotted Dick comes to mind – but a laughing stock they are not. One might gasp with delight at a fine summer berry pudding or an apple pie (with clotted cream from Devon, please) but they demand to be enjoyed most seriously.

Given the fantastic range of fresh produce, wild game, artisanal cheeses,and specially bred stock in the various (and varied) regions of England, plus a written corpus of historic recipes dating back to the fourteenth century – what to choose to make my point?

Naturally I am inclined to provide a recipe with some historic significance today. In spite of a huge range of possibilities, I made my choice easily. Hare Soup has a fine lineage, and is particularly associated with St George, or at least with St George’s Day dinners – although I have no idea why. The famous French chef Antonin Carême (1784-1833), the man referred to as “the chef of kings and the king of chefs” was for a short while the Chef to the Prince Regent. He made Hare Soup from an English recipe, and it is said he dedicated it to St George – perhaps that is where the association developed.

Here is a recipe for it from the very English Mrs Elizabeth Raffald’s book, The Experienced English Housekeeper (1769).

To make a Hare Soup.
Cut a large old hare in small pieces, and put it in a mug with three blades of mace, a little salt, two large onions, one red herring, six morels, half a pint of red wine, three quarts of water. Bake it in a quick oven three hours, then strain it into a tossing pan. Have ready boiled three ounces of French barley or sago in water. Scald the liver of the hare in boiling water two minutes, rub it through a hair sieve with the back of a wooden spoon, put it into the soup with the barley or sago and a quarter of a pound of butter. Set it over the fire, keep stirring it but don’t let it boil. If you don’t like liver put in crisped bread steeped in wine. This is a rich soup and proper for a large entertainment where two soups are required, almond or onion for the top, and hare soup for the bottom.*

* Hannah is referring to the placement of the soups at the top and bottom of the table. Dishes were arranged on the table in her day with geometric precision in strict formal order, in the form of service known as service à la française. The method may have produced an impressive display, but the food must have had plenty of time to cool by the time guests sat down.

Tomorrow’s Story …

Chocolate Malted Milk Cake.

Quotation for the Day …

[Soup] … must be the agent provocateur of a good dinner. Carême

Piran’s Pasties.

Today, March 5th …

Today is a special day for everyone who loves pasties, for it is the feast day of St Piran, the patron saint of Cornwall. The problem today then, is to clarify just what distinguishes a meat pie from a pasty – is it form, function, or filling? A second problem is to determine what defines a Cornish pasty from any old pasty.

There is an old myth – oft-repeated, so skip this sentence if you know it – that the Devil never crossed the Tamar River into Cornwall, for fear of ending up in a pasty. The implication is that the contents of a pasty may include anything and everything, including some very sinister things indeed.

The Cornish wont agree of course (and they are in the middle of a fierce debate with Devonians over the issue), but they didn’t invent the pasty – it has many incarnations throughout Britain (and the rest of the world), with almost infinitely variable fillings, and all with long histories. Their common characteristics are that they are ‘turnovers’ cooked on flat trays, not in shaped pie-dishes, and they are designed (magnificently) to eat in the hand. One early twentieth century writer observed “When small, a pasty is a snack, when large, it’s a meal”. There is one English version which has a greater claim than the Cornish pasty to being a complete meal – the ‘Bedfordshire Clanger’ has has a savoury filling at one end and a sweet (usually jam) filling at the other.

The Cornish can lay claim to a particular style of pasty, that is all (but it is sufficient). So, what makes a Cornish pasty, Cornish? Traditionally it has a firm twisted edge – said to be the ‘handle’ for Cornish miners, who could then throw this dirty, contaminated piece away at the end of their dinner. But a decorative design is surely not enough? It must be the filling.

The correct filling for a Cornish pasty is debated hotly even in Cornwall. Afficionados argue as to whether meat should dominate, or vegetables. Onions seem to be a given, but are potatoes? or turnips? or both? Use of leftover meat seems fairly definitely to be eschewed by pasty purists, but whatever raw meat is used, should it be minced, or cubed?

The OED pretty well agrees with the general public on what constitutes a pasty (‘usually a small pastry turnover containing meat and vegetables’), but it also gives another definition. The pasty was ‘formerly, a pie, consisting usually of venison or other meat seasoned and enclosed in a crust of pastry, and baked without a dish.’ Sometimes these olden-day pasties were huge – containing a whole haunch of venison and requiring many hours to cook. Samuel Pepys regularly enjoyed a venison pasty, sharing it with several friends over several days.

If you don’t have venison you can use other meats, and Mrs Mary Tillinghast tells us how in her Rare and excellent receipts (1690)

How to make Venison, Beef, or Mutton Pasty.
Take a haunch or side of Venison and bone it, then take off the outermost tuff skin; then take it, and lay it in form for a Pasty; then lay the side that you took the skin from, downwards to the board; then slash it cross and cross with your Knife, then season it with two Ounces of Pepper, and a quarter of a Pound of Salt, and two Nutmegs grated; then you must have four Pound of Beef Suet shred fine, and take one half of it, season it lightly with the seasoning, and sprinkle a little water on it; then beat it with a Rowling-pin till it be all in a broad then Cake, then lay it Suet which you have beat, on the Paste; then lay on the Venison with that side down which is seasoned, then season the top of your Venison lightly: then order the other part of the Suet as you did the former, and lay it upon the top of the meat and close the Pasty.

If you make your Pasty of Beef, a Surline [Sirloin] is the best; if of Mutton, then a Shoulder or two Breasts is the best. A Venison, or a Beef Pasty, will take six hours baking.

My Book ...

There will be more, much more, on pies and pasties in my upcoming book tentatively entitled "Pies: A Celebratory History", to be published by Reaktion Press in the UK in late 2008.

Tomorrow’s Story …

Macaroni: with cheese?

Quotation for the Day …

A pasty costly-made,
Where quail and pigeon, lark and leveret lay,
Like fossils of the rock, with golden yolks
Imbedded and injellied.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson, Audley Court (1842)

How Long is a Leek?

Today, March 1st …

Today is St David’s Day, a special day for all people of Welsh heritage, who will – if they are true patriots – identify themselves by wearing a leek somewhere on their persons (most usually their hats). Those whose patriotism is weaker, or sensitivity to odours stronger, may choose instead to wear a daffodil, which is a modern upstart of a national symbol if ever there was one.

The leek was a well-established symbol of Wales by the time of Shakespeare, who refers to it in Henry V (see the quotation for the day). Before the sixteenth century myth gets in the way of history. The stories say that the leek matched the Welsh archers uniforms of green and white (nice to see that colour co-ordination of uniforms was important even then) and that they wore the leek in their helmet to distinguish themselves from the enemy (were the enemy wearing green and white too?) Whether the enemy was the Saxons, the French at Crecy in 1346 or the French at Agincourt in 1415 or none of the above is no matter to us, we must focus on the leek as food, not the leek as military decoration.

Although the leek is the species of onion most associated with Wales, one alternative name for the spring onion or scallion is Welsh Onion, which to add to the confusion is also called the stone leek. Why is it so called? Interestingly, it touches on the concept of Welsh Rabbit (or Rarebit if you insist on perpetuating the error), which was the subject of an earlier story. The word ‘Welsh’ comes from the Anglo-Saxon word for ‘foreigner’, which is how the Saxons viewed their wild enemy in the West.

With such a large number of onion-leek-like vegetables with similar form and colouring, how do we decide what is a true leek? The European Union has made some rules to help us, but had the insensitivity to institute these on St David’s Day in 2002, which some Welsh folk took very personally. These are the major points of the rules:

Class I leeks must be of good quality. The white to greenish white part of the leeks must represent at least one third of the total length or half of the sheathed part. Size is determined by their diameter measured at right angles to the longitudinal axis above the swelling of the neck. The minimum diameter is fixed at 8mm for early leeks and 10mm for other leeks.

For today’s recipe, we go to Mrs Beeton (1861) because (quoting from Beeton’s Dictionary of Universal Information) she gives an alternative, very pacifist version of the Welsh-Leek association. She says:

It probably originated from the custom of Cymhortha or the friendly aid, practised among farmers. In some districts of South Wales, all the neighbours of a small farmer were wont to appoint a day when they attended to plough his land, and the like; and, at such time, it was the custom for each to bring his portion of leeks with him for making the broth or soup.

Here then, is her recipe for leek soup, and it really doesn’t matter how your leeks measure up for it to be a success.

Leek Soup.

Ingredients: A sheep's head, 3 quarts of water, 12 leeks cut small, pepper and salt to taste, oatmeal to thicken.

Mode: Prepare the head, either by skinning or cleaning the skin very nicely; split it in two; take out the brains, and put it into boiling water; add the leeks and seasoning, and simmer very gently for 4 hours. Mix smoothly, with cold water, as much oatmeal as will make the soup tolerably thick; pour it into the soup; continue stirring till the whole is blended and well done, and serve.

Tomorrow’s Story ...

Grocers to Royalty.

This Day Last Year ….

The story was about rice pudding.

Quotation for the Day …

Fluellen: Your majesty says very true: if your majesties is remembered of it, the Welchmen did goot service in a garden where leeks did grow, wearing leeks in their Monmouth caps; which, your majesty knows, is an honourable padge of the service: and, I do believe, your majesty takes no scorn to wear the leek upon Saint Tavy's day.

King Henry: I wear it for a memorable honour: for I am a Welch, you know, good countryman. Shakespeare (Henry V)

Hazelnut Day.

Today, January 4th …

For some reason best understood by themselves, mediaeval monks assigned a plant to each day of the year, dedicating it to the Saint of the day. The plant for today, dedicated to St. Titus was the common hazel (Corylus avellana) from which we get the common hazelnut, which is uncommonly good.

As with so many foods from the Plant Kingdom, a true understanding of the hazelnut is as confused by the language as it is revealed by it. The ‘hazelnut’ is also called the cob, cobnut, or filbert and there are both definitive statements or vague insinuations on the part of botanists, horticulturalists and cooks in various geographical locations that one or other provides better eating. Unfortunately there is no consistency in the descriptions and definitions between the various experts in various hazel-growing localities to assist those of us who simply want to ensure that we buy and eat the best variety.

Here are the opinions of two supposed experts of the Victorian era:

From ‘The Market Assistant’ (America, 1867):

Filberts: These nuts are said to be an improved variety of the common hazel-nut, but a great deal larger. The best kind is called the red filbert, known by its crimson skin; another kind, called white filbert, with a yellow white skin; and also another, called the large Spanish filbert. They are found throughout the year; but the new nuts are received only from November to February.

Hazel-nuts, or wild filberts: These are much the shape, form and color of the filbert, but are smaller, thicker shell, and better flavored. They grow on bushes, alongside the borders of the woods and fences, into a cluster of frizzled husks; and when they begin to open, or show the end of the nut, they are fit to eat. They usually appear in August and September.

From Isabella Beeton’s Household Manual (England, 1861):

HAZEL NUT AND FILBERT.--The common Hazel is the wild, and the Filbert the cultivated state of the same tree. The hazel is found wild, not only in forests and hedges, in dingles and ravines, but occurs in extensive tracts in the more northern and mountainous parts of the country. It was formerly one of the most abundant of those trees which are indigenous in this island. It is seldom cultivated as a fruit-tree, though perhaps its nuts are superior in flavour to the others. The Spanish nuts imported are a superior kind, but they are somewhat oily and rather indigestible. Filberts, both the red and the white, and the cob-nut, are supposed to be merely varieties of the common hazel, which have been produced, partly by the superiority of soil and climate, and partly by culture. They were originally brought out of Greece to Italy, whence they have found their way to Holland, and from that country to England. It is supposed that, within a few miles of Maidstone, in Kent, there are more filberts grown than in all England besides; and it is from that place that the London market is supplied. The filbert is longer than the common nut, though of the same thickness, and has a larger kernel. The cob-nut is a still larger variety, and is roundish. Filberts are more esteemed at the dessert than common nuts, and are generally eaten with salt. They are very free from oil, and disagree with few persons.

Whatever they have called them, it seems that humans have been eating hazels for millennia, and cultivating them at least since Classical times, so the relative dearth of recipes for them in historic cookbooks is surprising. John Nott does not use them in ‘The Cooks and Confectioners Dictionary’ (1724), and Isabella Beeton’s only reference is to them is in “a dish of nuts”.

The ever-reliable Cassells’ Dictionary of Cookery (1870’s) comes to the rescue with a single recipe:

Hazel-nut cakes.
Mince two ounces of hazel-nuts and half an ounce of sweet almonds very finely. Add three ounces of pounded and sifted sugar, the white of an egg, beaten to a firm froth, and as much flour as will bind them together. Roll the paste out till it is a quarter of an inch thick, stamp it out in small round cakes, place these on well-buttered tins, and bake in a slow oven.

And from a very elegant era, we have this elegant cake from ‘The Gentle Art of Cookery’ (1920's) by the inimitable Mrs Leyel and Miss Hartley.

Hazel Nut Cake.
A quarter of a pound of finely ground hazel nuts, three and a half ounces of sugar, three eggs, two tablespoonfuls of dry breadcrumbs, and a quarter of a teaspoonful of baking powder.
Beat the yolks of eggs and the sugar for twenty minutes, add the nuts, the breadcrumbs , the baking-powder and the whites of the eggs whipped to a stiff snow.
Fill a buttered cake tin with the mixture and bake for half an hour (or more) in a slow oven.
When cold the cake can be iced over with coffee icing.

Tomorrow’s Story …

The Hired Help.

A Previous Story for this Day …

The iconic Australian cake, the Lamington was the feature of this day's story in 2006.

Quotation for the Day …

New Scientist magazine reported that in the future, cars could be powered by hazelnuts. That's encouraging, considering an eight-ounce jar of hazelnuts costs about nine dollars. Yeah, I've got an idea for a car that runs on bald eagle heads and Faberge eggs. Jimmy Fallon.

Pig, with Onions.

Today, December 21st …

There are many reasons to celebrate today, all linked somehow with the Solstice – one of the two turning points of the seasons when the sun appears to stand still, an event of special significance, so an excuse for special food. The December solstice (Winter in the Northern hemisphere, Summer in the Southern) occurs on the 21st or 22nd of the month. This year it is technically tomorrow, the 22nd (at 10:24 am AEST), but we will consider it today because this day is also old St. Thomas’ Day and the usual blend of traditions pagan, Christian, and secular overlap.

Whatever food we chose for our solstice celebrations, we are guaranteed a calm setting in which to enjoy it, for the solstice falls in the middle of the Halcyon Days. These are the fourteen days of calm seas and mild weather which supposedly fall equally around the solstice, thanks to a mythical Greek bird, the ‘alkyon’ which caused these fine conditions in order to hatch its brood on its floating nest.

Of course the fine weather prediction applies to the winter solstice, where the legend originated. There does not seem to be a corresponding guarantee in the Southern hemisphere, which about sums up our problem Down Under. All of the ‘traditional’ December solstice foods are winter foods, and many of us expect to be sweltering in the heat. I will therefore offer two alternative food themes for the day.

St. Thomas’ Day is “good for brewing, baking and killing fat swine” – in other words, household activities entirely suitable for the official beginning of winter. In Bavaria the tradition is particularly strong, and the swine is even called the “St Thomas Pig”. It is believed that if you eat well on this day you will eat well all year. This shortest day of the year is also the traditional day to plant onions and broad beans – on the basis that they will grow with the days and be ready to pick at the summer solstice.

It would seem appropriate then to give you a suitably rural, porky, oniony recipe for this day. Who better to supply this than the good eighteenth century husbandman William Ellis who ensures that nothing is wasted of the pig? The following recipes are from his book ‘The Country Housewife’s Companion’ (1750)

To bake the Ears, Feet, the Nose-part, Mugget, or gristly lean Parts of a Hock of Pork.
These, or any part of them, may be made a good family pleasant dish, thus: - Lay them in a glazed earthen pot, and strew over them some salt, pepper, onions, one or more bay leaves; over these pour water till it is above them, bake it two or three hours, and keep it as it comes out of the oven till wanted, then cut and fry it in slices; the sauce is a little of the pickle, flower, and butter melted with some mustard.

The Farmers Way of dressing a Porker's Head, Feet, and Ears.
We make no more to do, than to boil them tender, and eat them with mustard; and if any of them are left cold, we fry them in lard with some onions, and eat with mustard. - Or else, mince the flesh of them, and lade butter over it for eating. - But to eat the feet and ears in a nicer manner; when they are boiled, chop them small, and mix butter with gravey, shalot, mustard, and slices of lemon; then stew all together.

And for the Southern hemisphere Summer Solstice, I break with the tradition of giving you something historic and instead give you my personal recipe for Summer Solstice Cake – light and bright with sunny red, orange and yellow fruits, and fragrant with liqueur. It is a variation of my Chocolate Alcohol Christmas Cake, which I must therefore give you first.

CHOCOLATE ALCOHOL CHRISTMAS CAKES.
1650 gm dried fruit.
1/3 cup honey or golden syrup.
1 cup alcohol of your choice (choc or choc-orange liqueur is good, whisky or brandy or rum)
shredded or grated rind of one orange and one lemon
100gm (at least) of good quality chocolate, chopped up.
125 gm of nuts, if you wish. Pecans are good.
2 cups plain flour
1 cup self-raising flour
¼ cup cocoa (good quality Dutch, or Callebaut choc powder is great)
250 gm butter (NO substitutes, good cake needs good butter)
300 gm dark brown (or black) sugar
6 eggs.

Mix the fruits, honey, alcohol, and rinds in a big jar, and marinate as long as possible.
When you are ready to make the cake, sift together the flours and cocoa.
Beat together the butter and sugar until creamy, then beat in the eggs one at a time.
Fold the fruit mixture, the chopped chocolate, and the nuts into the creamed mixture, then fold in the dry ingredients in 2 batches.
Put in the greased tins, decorate the tops with cherries and nuts if you wish.
This makes one 24 cm cake PLUS 6 small cakes made in LARGE muffin tins, or make all small ones.
Time to cook: the small cakes about 1 hour at 120 degrees Celsius, the large one 3 ½ to 4 hours.

SUMMER SOLSTICE CAKE.
Make it as above, but instead:
Use all red and yellow fruits – dried cranberries (better than glace cherries I think), chopped dried apricot, peach, pear; crystallised ginger; the pale yellow sultanas.
Use a fruity liqueur – I used peach Schnapps in 2005, because that’s what I had - and it was fantastic, but Grand Marnier or Curacao would be good.
Add 1 teaspoon of vanilla extract.
Use white sugar (vanilla if possible)
No cocoa, use an extra ¼ cup plain flour instead.
Substitute white chocolate of course.
Macadamia nuts (slightly roasted first) instead of pecans.
Pour more of the alcohol of your choice over the cakes as they are cooling, and as often afterwards as you can, until time for eating.

Tomorrow’s Story …

A Food Facts Quiz.

A Previous Story for this Day …

Ortolans were featured in our story of this day in 2005.

Quotation for the Day …

It's probably illegal to make soups, stews and casseroles without plenty of onions. Maggie Waldron, American author.

A sweet start to the New Year

Today, January 2nd …

Today is the eighth day of Christmas, and two right royal Frenchmen were given a great treat on this day in 1701. The Dukes of Burgundy and Berry, grandsons of Louis XIV were passing through the city of Montelimar in Provence, and were presented with one quintal of white nougat – the town’s specialty - by the mayor. Like so many other units of measurement, a quintal has varied over time and place, but in 1701 used to be about 48.95 kilos, so it is to be hoped that the royal grandsons didn’t eat it all at once.

Montelimar is “the nougat capital of the world”, but it was not invented there. The ancients all had sweetmeats based on honey, but it was the Arabs (who gave us the word “candy”, from their qandi) who were true confectionary artists. A thirteenth century manuscript in Istanbul – the only surviving medieval Arabic cookbook – contains a number of recipes for sweetmeats, and many of these are based on honey and nuts, and sound just like nougat (or halva). The Arabs took their nut trees and their recipes to Spain, and from there they spread to the rest of Europe, with the almond trees finding that they liked the area around Montelimar.

By amazing co-incidence, today is also the feast day of St Macarius, who was a merchant of candy and pastries before he became a hermit, so is the patron saint of pastrycooks and confectioners. Sweetmeats can be “wet” (fruit in syrup) or “dry” like nougat and “sugarplums” (candied fruit), but the latter are tricky for the faint-hearted and candy-thermometerless, so I give you this recipe for a sugared fruit, which would make a fine dessert, and is from a little cookbook from 1718 by Mary Eales, “Confectioner to her late Majesty, Queen Anne”, who must have been very busy as her boss was variously called “The Gouty Queen of the Gourmands”, “Brandy Nan” (because she liked a drop), and “the fat old bitch”.

To sugar all Sorts of small FRUIT.
Beat the White of an Egg, and dip the Fruit in it; let it lye on a Cloth that it may not wet; then take fine sifted Sugar, and rowl the Fruit in it ‘till ‘tis quite cover’d with Sugar; lay it on a Sieve in a Stove, or before a Fire, to dry it well; it will keep well a Week.

Tomorrow: Food in the city.

The naming of the cheese.

Today, December 30th …

Today is the feast day of St Egwin, the seventh century bishop of Worcester. Apart from a legendary rescue-by-salmon, there are no food stories associated with him. This caused me something of a problem for this day, as I had decided to test my theory of three degrees of separation between any person and any food item. I had chosen the menu recommended for December 30th from a book called “Cre-Fydd’s Family Fare, or Young Housewife’s Daily Assistant” published in 1864.

Breakfast: Broiled haddock, ham, poached eggs, soda scones.

Dinner: Cold oysters, lemon, brown bread and butter.
Roast pheasant, veal and ham patties, mashed potatoes.
Chestnut pudding, cheese fondu.

Kitchen (i.e. for the servants): Liver and bacon, potatoes, rice pudding.

“Fondu” immediately caught my eye. I distinctly remember it being invented sometime in the 70’s, and here it was in the mid-nineteenth century. How to investigate this as well as test my theory?

It turns out that there is a modern cheese named for St Egwin, being produced on a farm near his home town in England. It is similar in style to a Swiss cheese. There is my link, for surely fondu is Swiss?

Well, the Swiss claim fondue (from the French word meaning to melt), but the ancients had something like it – there is mention in Homer’s Iliad of a mixture of Pramian wine, goat’s cheese and barley flour. There are no old written recipes for what we would now call fondu, because melted cheese has always been a homely, one-pot peasant dish designed to use up stale ends of cheese and bread, and not requiring instructions.

The Swiss would utterly reject the Cre-Fydd “fondu” recipe because it contains eggs, and is really a soufflé. So is the famous version from Brillat-Savarin, and so is Mrs. Beeton’s. Escoffier’s are more like fritters. So, what do I give you today?

I give you a thoroughly modern Anglo-Swiss recipe, just so you can dust off your 1970’s fondue sets – because the good news is, that fondue is “in” again. This recipe also includes Worcestershire sauce, which originated in Egwin’s home-town. Does that mean that the connection between him and fondue can be reduced to 2 ½ degrees?

3 cups cheese, ¼ cup butter, ¼ cup flour, ½ teas dry mustard, 1 cup milk, 1 cup beer, 1 tab Worcestershire sauce, and a drop or two of Tabasco.

On Monday: A sweet start to the New Year.

The food which is also a toy.

Today, December 6th …

What a relief to have a jolly saint for the day – one who is rotund and generous rather than skeletal and ascetic! It is of course St Nicholas’ day – the saint who has been transformed by popular vote into “Santa Claus”, who even in real life was associated with anonymous gift-giving. He was born in the third century AD in what is now Turkey, and is now particularly revered in Northern Europe, where his day marks the beginning of the Christmas season.

He is the only saint who has a special beer brewed and named in his honour. The Swiss lager called “Samichlaus” (Santa Claus) is made on December 6th one year and released on December 6th the next. At an awesome 14% alcohol the beer probably assists in the development of jollity even more than most!

As befits a jolly saint, he is also associated with the most fun food – gingerbread – the food which is also a toy, as it can be made into gingerbread men or gingerbread houses, or even in some areas, gingerbread pigs.

“Gingerbread” did not always mean “cake”. Originally it simply meant preserved ginger, but by the middle ages it was a fudgy sort of concoction, made with honey and breadcrumbs flavoured with a variety of spices, which could be cut or moulded into different shapes. Supposedly Queen Elizabeth I had gingerbread made to represent her favourite courtiers, which is a good enough reason for me to give you a courtly recipe from her era, from “Delights for ladies …” (Hugh Plat, 1602).

To make Gingerbread.

Take three stale manchets [small loaves] and grate them, drie them, and sift them through a fine sieve, then adde unto them one ounce of ginger being beaten, and as much Cinamon, one ounce of liquerice & anniseedes beeing beaten together and searced [sifted], halfe a pound of sugar, then boile all these together in a posnet [3 legged metal pot], with a quart of claret wine till they come to a stiff paste with often stirring of it; and when it is stiffe, molde it on a table and so drie it thin, & pring it in your moldes, dust your moldes with Cinamon, Ginger, and liquerice, being mixed together in fine powder. This is your Gingerbread used at Court, and in all gentlemens houses at festivall times.

Tomorrow … Prayers in the kitchen.

A co-incidence of princesses.

Today, November 25th …

Today is the feast day of St Catherine of Alexandria, patron saint of spinsters, who pray to her in order to avoid her fate of dying unmarried, thus putting themselves, if their prayers are answered, under the patronage of St Monica, whose fate was a long unhappy marriage to an abusive and unfaithful husband.

November 25th was also the birthday in 1638 of the Portuguese princess, Catherine of Braganza, who was married off to the neglectful and very unfaithful Charles II in 1662, and is credited with bringing tea to England, and introducing it to the court. Being the devout woman that she was, it is unlikely that Catherine complained about her marriage to her saint, but I bet she pondered it over numerous cups of tea.

The Spanish princess Catherine of Aragon became the first wife of Henry VIII in 1509, and actively encouraged the lacemaking industry in England. As a result of confusion of her name with that of the saint, St Catherine became adopted also as the patron saint of lacemakers, who therefore had a holiday on her feastday. They would drink “hot-pot” (warm beer, thickened with eggs and spiked with rum), eat “Cattern Cakes”, and after getting up their appetite by playing games of leaping over candles they would tuck into stuffed rabbit with onion sauce.

Cattern cakes were just “Wiggs” – soft light bread rolls flavoured with caraway seeds, and so called because they were originally “wedges” in shape. There were many variations depending on the degree of enrichment or impoverishment of the dough (eggs, sugar), the recipient (“economical” for farmworkers), or the season (wiggs were popular Lenten food).

Due to a happy confluence of Catherines, it appears that we have an infallible formula for afternoon tea, but to ensure infallibility, we had better use a recipe from “ The lady’s companion, or, an infallible guide to the fair sex …” (1740) for our wiggs.

To make Wiggs.
You must take two Pounds of Flour, and a Quarter of a Pound of Butter, as much Sugar, a Nutmeg grated, a little Cloves and Mace, and a Quarter of an Ounce of Carraway Seeds, Cream and Yest [yeast] as much as will make it up into a light Paste, make them up, and set them by the Fire to rise ‘till the Oven be ready; they will quickly be baked.

P.S don't forget the lace tablecloth.

On Monday … A lusty and masculine food for Rustics.

Food for “Split-stomach day”.

Today, November 11 …

It is the feast of St Martin of Tours, patron saint of vintners, tavern keepers, and drunkards – which is very convenient as it is the traditional day for drinking wine from the new vintage. It was also the traditional day for slaughtering beasts which could not be over-wintered, and preserving as much as possible of the meat by salting, drying or smoking, to tide everyone over until spring. What could not be kept was eaten over a glorious few days of feasting, for the long bleak winter was a’coming in, the penitential season of Advent was imminent, and the next big feed would not be until Christmas. No wonder “Martinmas” was also called “Split-Stomach Day”.

Goose is almost obligatory in Europe at Martinmas - especially roasted, with regional variations (red cabbage or prunes or apples etc) - or in Sweden as a whole goose banquet which starts with “black soup” made from goose blood and offal, spiced and sweetened with fruit. There are various legends about St Martin and the goose for those who like symbolic explanations of their meals, but of course geese are very fat and very eatable by the end of the harvest season, which is the true and best justification.

Martinmas is also “The feast of sausages and black puddings”, for these are the quintessential dishes of the slaughtering season. It was a delicious time for those lower down the social scale, but perhaps a little too bloody and gruesome to dwell on for most of us today, with our more delicate modern sensibilities. The following recipe does include both goose and sausages, but it is from a book of “genteel” recipes for “prudent housewives”, so seems eminently suitable for today. It is from Catharine Brooks’ “Complete English cook …” (1770)

For fricaseying a Goose.
Roast your Goose, and before it is quite done cut and scotch it with your Knife long ways, and then slash it across; strew Salt and Pepper over it, then lay it in your Pan, with the skinny Side downwards, till it has taken a gentle Heat; then broil it on a Gridiron over a gently Fire; when it is enough, baste the upper Side with Butter, and a little Sugar, Vinegar, and Mustard; pour this into a Dish with Sausages and Lemon, and serve it up.

On Monday … On armadillo and hot spices …