Showing posts with label sweets. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sweets. Show all posts

Monday, December 15, 2008

Aussie Christmas Lollies.

“Lollies” are to Australian kids what “Candy” is in the USA and “Sweets” are in Britain. The word seems to be derived from “lollipop”, but why in Australia it became the word for all sorts of small confectionery is a mystery (to me, at any rate.) “Lolly” is also slang for money – but that doesn’t appear to explain the transition to sweeties, does it?. “Lolly” also used to be an old English dialect word for the tongue, which maybe fits a bit better with the idea of a lollipop (a candy on a stick). Finally, “lolly” is also, according to the OED the word for “soft ice, or congealed snow floating in the water when it first begins to freeze”- which explains Ice-lollies perhaps (which, perversely, are “ice-blocks” in Aus).

Enough of this struggle with English as she is interpreted through the ex-colonies! On to today’s story, which begins, as all good stories do, with “Once Upon a Time. …”

Once upon a time a certain “Polly Parrot” ran the children’s pages in The Argus (a Melbourne newspaper). The “Fun Children” who sent in good ideas for publication were awarded Parrot Cards – a reward which I am quite sure delighted them to a degree that would be incomprehensible to the modern child. As Christmas approached in 1931, cards were awarded for recipes for “Christmas Lollies.” Here are the parrot-card winning entries for the edition of Saturday 12 December 1931.

LOLLIES for CHRISTMAS.
Most Fun Children enjoy making home-made sweets during the school holidays.
It would be very jolly to make some for Christmas. If they are placed in attractive little boxes they make charming Christmas presents. Polly Parrot is sure that you will like the following recipes, which she recommends:-

Fruit Nougat
For this recipe you will need some dates, dried figs,raisins, and Maraschino cherriesand two cups of melted sugar. Chop the dates, figs, raisins, and cherries into smallpieces, and arrange in alternate layers in a shallow buttered pan. Melt two cups ofsugar over a quick fire, watching closely that it does not turn yellow. Pour it overthe fruits evenly and slowly, using only enough to blend. Before the mixture isquite cold, cut it into small bars.
(A Parrot Card for Frances Hope Bertuch, Bonnie View, Harcourt North.

Turkish Delight.
Soak one ounce of powdered gelatine in three-quarters of a cup of cold water for two hours. Put 2 lb. of sugar into a saucepan with three-quarters of a cup of water, bring to the boil, and add the soaked gelatine, a little citric acid, and a few drops of vanilla essence. Simmer for 20 minutes, skim well, and then pour on a damp dish.
Leave for 24 hours, then cut into squares and roll in castor sugar. For colouring use cochineal.
(A Parrot Card for Edna Hoskin, Primrose street. Violet Town)

Cocoanut Dainties.
Here is some cooking which a small child could do. The ingredients needed are:-
Four table-spoonfuls of sugar, 8 tablespoonfuls of desiccated cocoanut, and thewhites of two eggs. Beat the whites of the eggs to a froth, add the sugar, and beatwell again. Then stir in in the cocoanut.
Drop teaspoonfuls of this mixture on to a greased slide, and bake about 10 or 15minutes in a moderate oven.
(A Parrot Card is awarded to Jean Douglas, Coast Road, Mirboo [?] North, Gippsland.)

These recipes have been added to the Vintage Christmas Recipes archive.

Quotation for the Day …

There's nothing sadder in this world than to awake Christmas morning and not be a child.
Erma Bombeck (I Lost Everything in the Post-Natal Depression)

Friday, October 03, 2008

Nutty Candy.

Today is the end of Confectionary week at the Old Foodie. I want to talk to you about prawlongs. Prawlongs (or prawlins) appear in a couple of old confectionary books, and I have been intrigued about the name for a while. I was going to ask your help in puzzling out what they are, as the OED, Google, and Wikipedia are of no use at all. Silly me. I should have looked at the recipes – I mean, really looked at them. When I did, the answer was embarrassingly obvious. Prawlongs are Pralines, which the OED does know about. They are ‘a confection made by browning almonds or other nuts in boiling sugar.’ Mrs. Kettilby in her book Above 300 Receipts (1714) also calls them Fry’d Almonds, which I like. There is nothing so consistent as inconsistency in culinary language however, and one of the supporting quotations in the OED is from Canada, and refers to ‘a small quantity of praline, made of roasted maize, rendered palatable with sugar’ in a camp-food context. Another says ‘It was the fragrance of prawleens, that compound of New Orleans molasses, brown sugar, chocolate, and butter.’

For no better reason than that his name fits his subject, I have chosen a recipe for prawlongs from Frederick Nutt’s The Complete Confectioner, published in 1807.

He gives recipes for lemon, orange, pistachio (red), pistachio (white), burnt filbert (red), and orange flower prawlongs, as well as burnt almonds and filberts.

Burnt Filbert Prawlongs, Red.
Take some Barcelona nuts and crack them, put the kernals into a copper pan or sheet, and put them in the oven to roast; have a pan with syrup boiling and let it boil till it becomes almost to carimel; put a little cochineal in a cup, when the sugar is boiled, add it to it and the filberts, and stir them very much with a large wooden spoon, till you find the sugar is got hard around them; put them in a sieve, and separate them which stick together; have another pan, with syrup in, and boil it as before and as high; put the same quantity of cochineal in, and mix them as before, because the second time you do them, the finer the colour will be, and then put them in your box.

Apart from the fact that it sounds delicious, there are two other great things about this recipe. Firstly, it gives me another new-old food word – ‘Barcelona’ in relation to filberts (and their alter-ego, the hazelnut). Secondly, I think it may have given me a topic for next week– cochineal.

In the meanwhile, if any of you hail from New Orleans, and can treat us all to a recipe for the local version of prawleens, with chocolate, butter, and molasses, I would be most delighted.

Quotation for the Day …

Candy
Is dandy,
But liquor
Is quicker.
Ogden Nash.

Wednesday, March 21, 2007

To the Sugar Camp.

Today, March 21st …

Thoreau headed off to his red maple sugar camp at 10 am on this day in 1856, and these are his comments on the day:

“Found that, after a pint and a half had run from a single tube after 3 P. M. yesterday, it had frozen about half an inch thick, and this morning a quarter of a pint more had run. Between 10.30 and 11.30 A. M. this forenoon, I caught two and three quarters pints more, from six tubes, at the same tree, though it is completely overcast and threatening rain. Four and one half pints in all. This sap is an agreeable drink, like iced water (by chance), with a pleasant but slight sweetish taste. I boiled it down in the afternoon, and it made an ounce and a half of sugar, without any molasses, which appears to be the average amount yielded by the sugar maple in similar situations, viz. south edge of a wood, a tree partly decayed, two feet [in] diameter.

… got back before twelve with two and three quarters pints of sap, in addition to the one and three quarters I found collected.”

Maple Syrup is a magical thing – at least to this little blogger, born in the very temperate North of England and transplanted (not convict-transported) to the sub-tropics of Queensland, Australia. On my one short trip to Canada a few years ago I became instantly and seriously addicted to the Real Thing - which is obtainable here, but in small, relatively expensive bottles totally unsuited to an addiction situation. It may be rosy holiday memory too, but it tasted better 'over there.'

We paid homage to this lovely tree juice on Canada Day, and featured a number of recipes using maple syrup and maple sugar. I am delighted to have an excuse to pay homage to it again today.
Maple Sugar Frosting
Add one cup of sweet cream to two cups of rolled maple sugar; boil slowly until it will thread from a spoon, about three-quarters of an hour. Then let it get about half cool, stir in half a cup of chopped English walnut meats, beat until it becomes creamy, then spread it over the cake.
[The Good Housekeeping Woman's Home Cook Book; c1909.]

Maple Sugar Cookies
One cup of sugar, one cup of crushed maple sugar, one cup of butter, two well beaten eggs, two tablespoons of water, two teaspoons of baking powder, and flour enough to roll out. Do not make too stiff. Bake in a quick oven.
[The Good Housekeeping Woman's Home Cook Book; c1909.]

Maple Sugar Sauce.
Take half maple sugar and half light brown sugar, boil them together with a little water, clarify the syrup with an egg, strain it and melt a small piece of butter in it. All maple sugar, or all common sugar can be used. It is very good on puddings.
[Jennie June's American Cookery Book. 1870]

The cookbooks quoted from can be found at the Feeding America Historic Cookbook Project.

Tomorrow’s Story …

Teddy in the Wilderness.

This Day Last Year …

British Wartime ‘Restaurants’ were the topic of the day, in all their Beige Glory.

Quotation for the Day …

Some national parks have long waiting lists for camping reservations. When you have to wait a year to sleep next to a tree, something is wrong. George Carlin

Wednesday, January 31, 2007

The Pavlova: the story.

Today, January 31st …

[update: February 7th, see the entry for 1933]

The Russian ballerina Anna Pavlova was born on this day in 1885, so there is no difficulty guessing our topic today – ‘the pavlova, the sweet dessert’. There has been a longstanding battle between Australia and New Zealand as to who 'invented' the pavlova, with tempers getting quite nasty at times. This is my contribution to the war.

For those of you who need the clarification, a pavlova as defined by the OED is “a dessert consisting of a soft-centred meringue base or shell filled with whipped cream and fruit.” I would like it put on notice here that the OED, which should be absolutely non-partisan, has clearly allied itself with the “soft-centred like marshmallow” school of thought, in complete disregard for the very vocal opposition school that maintains a pavlova should be thoroughly dried and crisp throughout.

We have established then, that a pavlova is a form of meringue. Neither Australia nor New Zealand invented the meringue, because the meringue was invented before they were. As for meringue, it was not, repeat NOT ‘invented in 1720 by a Swiss pastry-cook called Gasparini, who practised his art in Mehrinyghen [hence ‘meringue’], a small town in the State of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha.’ Even the venerable Larousse perpetrates this myth, in complete disregard for the fact that confections made from sweetened, stiffly-beaten egg whites appear in cookbooks printed well before that date. The earliest I can find appears in the recipe collection of Lady Elinor Fettiplace, which is dated 1604, which she calls White Bisket Bread.

To make White Bisket Bread.
Take a pound & a half of sugar, & an handful of fine white flower [flour], the whites of twelve eggs, beaten verie finelie, and a little annisseed brused, temper all this together, till it be no thicker than pap, make coffins with paper, and put it into the oven, after the manchet [bread] is drawn.

Note: this is clearly what we would call ‘meringue’, but Lady Elinor does not use the name. The first use that I am aware of (and I stand willing to be corrected) is in the cookbook of François Massialot, the first chef of Louis XIV (1638 - 1715). His book was published in 1692, and contained a chapter on “Meringues and Macaroons”. This is one of the recipes from the English translation of 1702.

Dry Meringues.
Having caus’d the Whites of four new-laid Eggs to be whipt, as before, till they rise up to a Snow, let four Spoonfuls of very dry Powder-sugar be put into it, and well-temper’d with a Spoon: Then let all be set over a gentle Fire, to be dried a little at two several times, and add some Pistachoes, that are pounded and dried a little in the Stove. Afterwards, they are to be dress’d as other, and bak’d in the Oven somewhat leisurely, with a little Fire underneath, and more on the top; When they are sufficiently done, and very dry, let them be taken out, and cut off with a Knife: Lastly, as soon as they are somewhat cold, let them be laid upon Paper, and set into the Stove to be kept dry.

So, should M.Massialot get the credit for ‘inventing’ the meringue, as the evidence is that he used the name first? Or, until an earlier manuscript turns up, should it go to Lady Elinor, on the principle that the concept is the thing, not the name?

Australia and New Zealand, we have established, did not invent the bisket-bread/meringue style confection itself. Did either of them actually invent the particular iteration which both now call the pavlova, or did one of them steal the name an apply it to a similar, but quintessentially different variation? Here we have the nub of the dispute. It is all in the name.

It is not my job here to take sides (although as I have pointed out elsewhere, NZ is the country that re-named the Chinese Gooseberry the Kiwi Fruit, in what was clearly an attempt to give it origin status), so I hereby give you the known facts/factoids in chronological order for you to make up your own minds.

1926: A cookbook printed in NZ called Cookery for New Zealand, by E. Futter contained a recipe ‘Meringue with Fruit Filling’. It was not, however, called Pavlova.

1927: The OED cites the first use of the word ‘pavlova’ in ‘Davis Dainty Dishes’, published by Davis Gelatine in NZ. It was ‘composed of coloured layers of jelly made in a mould resembling a ballerina's tutu’. Pavlova, as coloured jelly – I don’t think so!

1927: A group of Congregational Church ladies produced a cookbook called Terrace Tested Recipes, in Wellington NZ in 1927. One recipe was for ‘Meringue Cake’, which was made in two tins, the resulting two cakes being sandwiched together with cream and fruit, or serves as two cakes. Not called pavlova. Structure similar? Not the two layer one, certainly.

1929: Yet another NZ cookbook, Mrs. McKay’s Practical Home Cookery, had a recipe for ‘Pavlova Cakes’, the plural representing the three dozen little confections made from the mixture. This is hardly the same thing as a pavlova with the traditional filling/topping, now is it?
1933: Bron at Bron Marshall Classic & Creative Cuisine sends this correction on Feb 7th:

The recipe was submitted by a Laurina Stevens for the Rangiora Mother’s Union Cookery Book, it was called “Pavlova” - the correct name, the recipe was for one large cake and contained the correct ingredients, egg white, sugar, cornflour, and vinegar, and it had the correct method for cooking. This has been proven thanks to the research of Professor Helen Leach, of the University of Otago’s anthropology department. Prof Leach also uncovered a 1929 pavlova recipe in a New Zealand rural magazine which had the correct ingredients and correct method of cooking, however it was unfortunately published under a pseudonym.

1935: The family of Herbert Sachse of the Hotel Esplanade in Perth, Western Australia have maintained a vigorous claim that he invented the dish to be served at afternoon tea, and commented (or someone did) that “It is as light as Pavlova”, and hence the name Sachse claimed in a magazine interview that he ‘improved’ a recipe for Meringue Cake he found in the Women’s Mirror Magazine on April 2, 1935 (which had been submitted by a NZ resident.

I guess the only way this dispute will get resolved is if we can come to a consensus as to what defines a pavlova, as distinct from a meringue or a meringue cake or a pavlova cake(s).

I reckon the passionfruit is crucial.

Tomorrow’s Story …

Pepys’ Pease Porridge.

A Previous Story for this Day …

We had a story about monkeys and bananas on this day last year.

Quotation for the Day …

Once in a young lifetime one should be allowed to have as much sweetness as one can possibly want and hold. Judith Olney.

Friday, January 05, 2007

The Hired Help.

Today, January 5th …

I don’t know what you intend to provide your servants for dinner today, but if you are unsure, I have a couple of menus for today that might give you inspiration.

A day in the life of a servant has probably often been nasty, brutish, and far too damn long, but somehow life Below Stairs has never sounded as bad as life Out In The Fields, has it? Those indoors don’t have the vagaries of the weather to deal with for starters, and there is easy access to the kitchen. A young, growing houseboy could probably sneak a quick snack in between blacking boots and annoying the housemaids, which would be impossible for a young, growing farmhand in between pasture and pig-pen.

In reality, ease of life and availability of snacks would depend on how closely the household was managed, and how tight and incorruptible was the chain of command between Master and Mistress, steward and housekeeper, and the lower orders of staff - and of course how kindly disposed to their inferiors were their Lord and Ladyship.

Managing a large estate in the early nineteenth century was no trivial occupation. The household would have been largely self-sufficient, with fruit, vegetables, dairy, grain, and most meat coming from the estate itself. Such was the household of the Marquis of Tweedale in the East Lothian district of Scotland. The Household Book of Yester House recorded not just the accounts, but tracked the source of the victuals (where this was not from the estate) and the number and class of persons fed each day (family, servants, visitors, and visitors’ servants).

On this day in 1817 the Marquis’ family sat down to dinner to:

Breast of Veal
Sur loine of Beef
Mutton Cuttelettes
1 phaisant
1 Hare

The servants of the household had for their dinner: boiled mutton and roast beef.

Moving along nearly half a century to 1869, urbanisation and industrial growth meant that there was a burgeoning middle class who wanted and needed servants but had little ancestral knowledge to draw on as to the proper way to manage their staff. A large number of household manuals were produced to assist the Young Mistress in this and other intimidating and mysterious requirements of running a household, and many provided suggested menus for every day in the year.

The January 5th suggestion for dinner from “Cre-Fydd’s Family Fare: or Young Housewife’s Daily Assistant” (1869) was:

Onion Soup.
Roast Loin of Mutton (5 lbs), lobster cutlets, laver, potatoes, currant jelly.
Apple Fritters, cheese, celery, &c.

For the ‘Kitchen’, the dinner was: Beef-steak Pie (1 ¾ lbs), potatoes. No pudding mentioned. Next day they had Pie, Cold for dinner - and rice pudding.

Here is the Apple Fritters recipe from the same book. Please be kind to your servants this evening, they will be fatigued from the batter beating.

Apple Fritters.
Make a batter* as directed for pancakes in the preceding receipt. Pare two or three large (cooking) apples; cut them into seven or eight slices the third of an inch thick; scoop out the core neatly, making a round hole in the centre of each slice; lay them in a stewpan, with three ounces of sifted loaf sugar, the strained juice of a lemon, and the grated rind, and simmer (uncovered) for ten minutes; place them on a plate; pour the syrup over, and let them stand to imbibe the sugar for two hours or longer; wipe each piece; dip it into the batter, and fry in butter or oil till of a golden colour; drain on a sieve before the fire, sift sugar over, and serve on a neatly folded napkin. Must be sent to table quickly, and very hot.

*Batter: Beat three fresh eggs, and stir into three tablespoonfuls of dried flour till in a smooth paste; add three-quarters of a pint of new milk; beat with a wooden spoon for a quarter of an hour; stand the batter in a cool place for two hours or longer; beat again for ten minutes …..


Monday’s Story …

Cocoa in the Country.

A Previous Story for this Day …

We found out a little about the hamburger on this day last year.

Quotation for the Day …

In the Days of good Queen Elizabeth, when mighty Roast Beef was the Englishman's Food; our Cookery was plain and simple as our Manners; it was not then a Science or Mistery, and required no conjuration to please the Palates of our greatest Men. But we have of late Years refined ourselves out of that simple Taste, and conformed our Palates to Meats and Drinks dressed after the French Fashion: The natural Taste of Fish or Flesh is become nauseous to our fashionable Stomach; we abhor that any thing should appear at our Tables in its native Properties; all the Earth, from both the Poles, the most distant and different Climates, must be ransacked for Spices, Pickles, and Sauces, not to relish, but to disguise our Food. Robert Campbell; 1747, author of "The London Tradesman"

Thursday, January 12, 2006

Food for perfect felicity.

Today, January 12th …

In 1763, James Boswell, the biographer of Samuel Johnson, had been successful “in search of a woman worthy of my love”, and by this day “Louisa” had at last agreed “to bestow perfect felicity upon me”. No decent lodging place would rent rooms to unmarried folk, so they planned a subterfuge.

“We contrived to seem as if we had come off a journey, and carried in a bundle our night-clothes, handkerchiefs, and other little things. We also had with us some almond biscuits, or as they call them in London, macaroons, which looked like provisions on the road.”

He ordered “ a bowl of negus, very rich of the fruit, which I caused be set in the room as a reviving cordial”. Louisa allowed him “full possession of my warmest wishes” five times (he was proud of his “godlike vigour”) – and “At last I sunk to rest in her arms and she in mine. I found the negus, which had a fine flavour, very refreshing to me.”

Conquest achieved, by the 16th “the warm enthusiasm of love was over”, and by the 18th he had suspicious symptoms. It seems that a glass of negus can restore vigour, but not prevent “that distemper with which Venus, when cross, takes it into her head to plague her votaries”.

In case you need to bribe your way to perfect felicity, I give you a recipe for macaroons:

Macaroons
To one pound of blanched and beaten sweet almonds put one pound of sugar, and a little rosewater to keep them from oiling. Then beat the whites of seven eggs to a froth, put them in and beat them well together. Drop them on wafer paper, grate sugar over them and bake them. (1769)

Assuming you are (safely) successful, here is a nineteenth century recipe for negus, to serve hot or cold.

Negus: This popular beverage derives its name from its originator, Colonel Negus. The ingredients of which it is composed are either port or sherry and hot water, the quantity of the water being double that of the wine. Sweeten with lump sugar, and flavour with a little lemon juice, and grated nutmeg, and a morsel only of the yellow rind of the lemon. It is an improvement to add one drop of essence of ambergris, or eight or ten drops of essence of vanilla to every twelve glasses or so of negus.


Tomorrow: Wine for health.

Monday, January 02, 2006

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.