“Not-Apples”

I think it is a pity that we stopped calling tomatoes Love Apples.
I also think it is a pity that we stopped calling eggplants Mad Apples.
I don’t know why we stopped using these fun names.
I do know how the names came about however.

The origin of Love Apples is easy. When the tomato was first introduced to Europe from the ‘New World’ it was viewed with great suspicion, partly on principle, because it was new, and partly because it was assigned to the nightshade family of plants. The nightshade family had two strikes against it. Firstly, it contained a number of poisonous members. Secondly, it included the mandrake, a plant reputed to be aphrodisiac - which was enough to put all its relatives at risk of denunciation from the pulpit. The second reason, of course, is responsible for its name, and I presume was intended to act as a warning to anyone foolish enough to risk its effects. It was still not widely used until well into the nineteenth century, although America took to it before England. Even Mrs Beeton (1861) referred to them as Love Apples, although she did give a couple of recipes.

As for the eggplant, the name Mad-Apple comes by way of a double mistranslation. The Italian melanzana was heard as mala insana, and this was then translated to ‘mad apple’, which is a truly wonderful true explanation. The eggplant is also sometimes called Brown-Jolly in older English texts. This is a misinterpretation of brinjal, the ‘Indian’ name for Solanum melongena, vatimgana, al-badinjan, aubergine, badingan, melongena, berenjena, albergínia, Guinea squash, nasu ……….

Love apple catsup.
Cut up the tomatas or love apples, and between every layer sprinkle a layer of salt; let them stand a few hours before you boil them, which do very well; then strain them through a cullender on some horseradish, onions, or garlic, mustard seeds, beaten ginger, pepper, and mace; cover it close; let it stand a day or two; then bottle and seal it for use.

Love apple cakes for stews, &c.
Prepare the tomatas exactly in the same manner as recommended for sauce, only boil away as much of the watery particles as you conveniently can; then place the residue in a flat dish out in the sun; when it has evaporated so as to become almost a dry cake, cut it into pieces about one inch square, and preserve either in wide-mouthed bottles or canisters; when required for use one of the squares soaked in water for a few hours until dissolved with be sufficient to season a dish of cutlets or soup. This will keep a long time, in fact it is only the inspissated juice of tomatas.

Indian Domestic Economy and Receipt Book, by R. Riddell, 1860

Quotation for the Day.

A dinner divested of ceremony, is an act of perfidy.
Anon.

A pearl of a recipe.

Today, January 11 …

David Livingstone, intrepid African explorer and missionary wrote in his journal in January 1854:

“On the 11th and 12th we were detained by incessant and violent rains. I had a little tapioca and a small quantity of Libonta meal, which I reserved for emergencies. The patience of my men under hunger was admirable. Present want is never so painful as the prospect of future starvation”

Tapioca is made from the tasteless starchy root of the cassava (or manioc) plant, after the poisonous prussic acid is removed by pounding and cooking. Cassava originated in South America and now thrives in Africa and elsewhere, although food historian Waverley Root has said “It is possible that it could be grown in Florida, but so far as I know, no-one has ever wanted to.”

In the form used most commonly in the West – pearl tapioca made into a glutinous milk pudding – many say that it is poisonous even without the prussic acid. Descriptions of the nursery and sick-room staple are replete with adjectives like “wholesome” and “nourishing”, with a noteable lack of words such as “delicious”, or even “pleasant”. Tapioca is, however, now trendy in the form of “bubble tea”, a drink popular in Asia consisting of sweet tea with or without other flavourings, and large “pearls” or “bubbles” which can be sucked up through the specially wide straw, thus providing both food and drink in a cup. Disgusting.

I give you the tapioca recipe which wins my disgusting prize, from an 1870s cookbook. Take note: the book warns you that tapioca “should be bought of a respectable dealer, as a spurious kind is sometimes offered for sale made of gum and potato flour”. Gum and potato flour being worse, presumably.

If you do happen to be a tapioca fan, you could follow this savoury dish with the milk pudding, accompany it with bubble tea for a complete tapioca meal, and follow it with psychiatric help.

Tapioca and Tomatoes.
Soak a tablespoonful of tapioca in water for a couple of hours, set it to boil, adding a little more water till quite done to the consistency of porridge. Add pepper, salt, and a little fresh butter. Cut two tomatoes in half, remove pips and watery substance, sprinkle with a little pepper and salt. Fill each half-tomato with with the tapioca, sprinkle the top with grated parmesan and baked bread crumbs, put them into the oven for twenty minutes, and serve.

Tomorrow: Food for perfect felicity.