Two Excuses to Celebrate.

Today is the third birthday of The Old Foodie. How Amazing. It started off as a little experiment for fun, and here we all are, 863 posts later. Who’da Thought It?

A few people around the world will chose to celebrate Halloween instead of the TOF’s birthday of course, for tonight is also the e’en (evening) of All Hallows (All Saints) Day.

The modern customs of Hallowe’en are the result of clever commercial manipulation of traditions that have their roots in the the ancient Celtic celebration of Samhain which marked the end of the harvest season. It was believed that on this night the passages between the worlds of the living and the dead were open, and the souls of the dead could walk the land, wreaking havoc if they were not properly appeased (or confused by scary costumes and noise.)

The spirits could also be invoked to foretell the future, and many Halloween games and customs are based on old divination methods. For example, in a variation of the bean in the Twelfth Night Cake, or the charms in a Christmas Pudding, one custom in Ireland was to put a ring in a sweet fruit bread called a barm brack. The girl who got the ring would get her man within the year – a hugely reassuring promise at a time when her only other alternative to marriage was remaining dependent on her parents or brothers for ever.

Barm Brack comes from the words barm (yeast) and breac (speckled) and refers to the fruit scattered through the sweet dough. In that other stronghold of the Celts – Wales – speckled bread is called Bara Brith, and in Scotland it is the same as Bannock.

The earliest recipe I have found so far (after a far from an exhaustive search) is from a Scottish cookery book of 1802 – the recipe donated by a lady in Bath, proving that the provenance of recipes nearly always demonstrates a mongrel heritage. The name of the particular recipe is clearly a phonetic interpretation at the name.

To Make Barren Brack.
Take three quarts of flour, rub into it three ounces of butter, seven ounces of sugar, some carraway seeds, make a hole in this; put into it two eggs beat up to a froth, a gill of barm in as much new milk as will wet it; work it up and let it rise, and bake it upon a girdle.
Mrs. Cobb, Bath.
The New Practice of Cookery, Pastry, Baking, and Preserving: being The Country Housewife’s Best Friend, by Mrs Hudson, Mrs Donat, Edinburgh, 1804.

Quotation for the Day …

On the plain household bread his eye did not dwell; but he surveyed with favor some currant tea-cakes, and condescended to make a choice of one. Charlotte Bronte.

Wives’ Feast Day.

Today, February 2nd …

There is something for everyone to celebrate today. Whether your interest is historic, spiritual, astronomical, astrological, zoological or just plain economic, the first couple of days of February have been significant from ancient times.

In previous times, before clocks were invented, time was reckoned by the sun, and the new ‘day’ started at sunset on what we would now call the ‘eve’. This made sense because it was believed that new life (and the new day) arose from the dark, and it is the reason why nowadays we often start festival celebrations on the ‘eve’ of the actual nominated day. Which, when you think about it, might still make more sense than starting the new day at an arbitrary time in the middle of the night, as we do now that we are civilised and modern.

All of which is getting me around to saying that February 1st/2nd is one of the old ‘cross-quarter’ days which fall mid-way between the start of the seasons (or between the solstices and equinoxes), and in the Northern hemisphere means that Spring, at least in theory, is on the way.

Animals don’t need clocks and calendars of course, and today is Groundhog day or Hedgehog day – the day when these little animals step out to sniff the nearly-spring air and in so doing predict the weather for us. It is also the start of the lambing season (in the Northern hemisphere), and the ancient name for the time of year was Imbolc, or Oimelc, which refers to lactating ewes. The onset of spring seems to turn the whole of the animal kingdom to thoughts of fun and frolicking, and for the human animal too, it used to be a time of fertility rites.

It is generally assumed that early Christian authorities appropriated many ‘pagan’ festivals and attached their own significance to them as part of their missionary activity, on the principle that ignorant peasants would be unlikely to convert to a religion that denied them a day of fun and feasting. In attempting to convince the masses that this was Candlemas, early clerics must have had a real challenge on their hands to convince them to give up their (presumably) much-enjoyed fertility games. The remnants of these rites persisted until quite recent times in the form of ,Wives' Feast Day, in the north of England, so if you are so inclined it would be quite appropriate to have a girls' day and talk about girls' stuff.

If all this invoking of fertility deities is successful of course, you end up creating a whole lot more work for yourselves, and will have need of recipes such as this, from the South Australian Country Women’s Association ‘Calendar of Puddings’(1950’s?).

Washing Day Pudding.
1 ½ cups S.R. flour, piece of butter size of walnut, ½ cup milk, 2 tablespoons boiling water, pinch salt.
Syrup: ½ cup sugar, 1 tablespoon golden syrup, 1 cup boiling water, 1 or 2 tablespoons butter, a squeeze of lemon juice if liked.
Rub butter into flour and salt, mix in milk, and lastly the boiling water to make a light dough. Roll into a ball and place in greased basin. Then heat the syrup ingredients all together and pour boiling over the dough. Do not cover basin, but keep lid on saucepan in which it is steamed for one hour. Serve pudding hot in same basin, with sauce or custard if liked.

It is a pleasure to do all that work for Mum’s Little Delights, isn’t it? Maybe they will make this pudding for you, from the same calendar:

Mum’s Delight.
A delicious light pudding may be made by melting 1 heaped tablespoon of butter in a mixing bowl, then add in the following order: ¾ cup sugar, 2 tablespoons dessicated cocoanut, pinch salt, 4 tablespoons milk, 2 unbeaten eggs, 1 large cup flour. Stir all gently together and beat for 2 minutes only. Then stir in carefully 1 teaspoon baking powder. Have ready a greased pudding basin, in the bottom of which has been placed 3 tablespoons of blackberry jelly or jam. Pour in the mixture, cover with greased paper, and steam for 1 ½ hours. Turn out, pile whipped cream on top, and serve with vanilla sauce.

And if your interests are ‘economic’? The cross-quarter days were the traditional time for paying rents and hiring servants, so if you have need of new cook, today is the day to look around.

P.S. If you are a man, dont feel left out - we are getting around to Men's Food next week.

Monday’s Story …

A Better Egg-Beater.

A Previous Story for this Day …

We talked about celebrating Candlemas in Marseilles with navettes last year on this day.

Quotation for the Day …

My wife is a light eater … as soon as it’s light, she starts to eat. Henry Youngman (1906-1998)

And so the Lord be thankit.

Today, January 25th …

Today is Burn’s Day, the anniversary of the birth of Robert Burns in 1759. If you have the tiniest trace of Scots ancestry, you will, like your relatives all over the world, be intending to hold your own traditional Burns Supper on this night.

In case the trace is very distant and your ancestral memory of the evening’s ritual needs jogging, I remind you of the proper order of proceedings.

1. Welcome by the Chairman.

2. Burns’ “Selkirk Grace” is said by all:

“Some hae meat and cannae eat,
And some wad eat that want it.
But we hae meat and we can eat
And so the Lord be thankit”

3. The company then stands, and performs a slow handclap during the piping in of the haggis. The procession consists of the piper, the chef bearing the haggis on a silver platter, the honoured guest who will address the haggis, and – let he not be forgotten - the whisky bearer.

4. The honoured guest recites Burns’ ode “To a Haggis”, with great gusto and feeling, and at the lines “His knife see Rustic-labour dight, An cut you up wi ready slight” he plunges his own knife into the haggis, spilling out its “gushing entrails”.

5. At the final line "Gie her a Haggis!” (“her” being Scotland) the company applaud, raise their whisky glasses and make a toast “To the Haggis”.

6. The meal proper then commences. The haggis is compulsory, but other menu items may vary so long as they stay within the traditional Scots culinary repertoire. A common selection would be:
Cock-a-leekie soup
Haggis with Bashed Neeps and Champit Taties
Clootie Dumplin or Tipsy Laird

7. A short speech on Burns is given.

8.There is a Toast to the Lasses, and various other recitations and entertainments, accompanied by as much whisky drinking as seems necessary and appropriate.

9. The evening ends with the traditional rendering by the company of Auld Lang Syne.

If you have any Scottish blood at all, I assume that you have your own inviolable family recipe for haggis, but hope your ancestors are not offended by my suggestion that you try Mistress Meg Dods’ variation of Bashed Neeps (from her “Cooks and Housewife’s Manual”, 1856).

Our Club put a little powdered ginger to their mashed turnips, which were studiously chosen of the yellow, sweet, juicy sort for which Scotland is celebrated.

Tomorrow: The inevitable banquet.

Peace and Plenty.

Today, January 16th …

This day in ancient Rome was the festival of Concordia. Concordia (‘Harmonia’ in Greek mythology) was the goddess of agreement or “concord” (meaning “with one heart”), and seems to be particularly associated with marital harmony.

It was a day of offerings, not feasting, which is a pity if you agree with Samuel Pepys that it is “strange to see how a good dinner and feasting reconciles everybody”. Perhaps your experience agrees more closely with that of the wonderful writer M.F.K. Fisher: "the cold truth is that family dinners are more often than not an ordeal of nervous indigestion, preceded by hidden resentment and ennui and accompanied by psychosomatic jitters"?

If Isabella Beeton is correct, and “there is no more fruitful source of family discontent than badly cooked dinners and untidy ways”, perhaps today we should make a special effort.

In the absence of a traditional food, we must make up our own menu. As an aperitif, let’s start with a modern cocktail:

Harmony
Take a martini glass, and build and stir:
36 ml vodka, 12 ml blue Curacao liqueur, 12 ml dry vermouth.
Decorate with a maraschino cherry.

From Victorian cookbooks, the savoury course: first, make some dumplings, and serve with:

Matrimony Sauce.
Put a bit of butter into cold water in a saucepan; dust in a little flour, stirring one way until they are completely mixed; then add some brown sugar and a table-spoonful or so of Vinegar. Continue stirring until the sauce boils; pour it into a basin and serve.

A marital metaphor in a sauce recipe, don’t you think?

Then the dessert, less obviously named:

Matrimony Pudding.
Pare and core one pound and a half of apples, and boil with three-quarters of a pound of loaf sugar, the grated rind and strained juice of a lemon, and the sixth part of a nutmeg, grated; stir till they become a rich marmalade; then let it go cold. Make a custard as follows: moisten a tablespoon of Oswego [cornflour] with half a gill of new milk; boil a quarter of a pound of loaf sugar in half a pint of milk, and stir into the Oswego while boiling; add four well-beaten eggs and half a gill of thick cream. Butter a pie-dish, lay in the custard and marmalade in alternate layers until the dish is full; bake in a quick oven for twenty-five minutes. Serve, hot or cold.

Tomorrow: Comical food for health.

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 …

Eating the flower of death.

Today, November 1st …

Today is the first of the “Days of the Dead” in Mexico, and bright yellow marigolds – “the flowers of death” - are everywhere. Their strong smell supposedly guides the dead back to their earthly homes for this few days each year, when they are especially honoured by their descendants over two days of fun-filled celebration – a strangely incongruous idea to those of us with an Anglo-Saxon heritage.

Marigolds are everywhere except in the food, even though they are very edible, and have a long history of use in Europe for medicinal and culinary purposes. So, if you are unable to get to Mexico for the fun, but have a few pesticide-free edible marigolds in your garden, you can at least get into the spirit of the day (pun intended) - European-style - by simply putting them in your salads, or cooking the leaves like spinach. If you feel more culinary energy coming on, you could even make marigold conserve or wine. Another very popular use was in “pease soope” and broths, particularly mutton-broth, and dried flowers used to be sold for that particular purpose.

There is far too much “past tense” in these discussions of ingredients, don't you think? One writer in 1841 was already bemoaning the fact that “The use of marigold flower in soup, or broth, has for some reason gone out of fashion with modern cooks”.

Marigolds have sometimes been called “poor man’s saffron” because of their colour. Which would you rather eat (real saffron I know, but lets assume for the purposes of this discussion that you cant afford it right now) – “natural marigold” or artificial yellow colours E102, E104, E107, E110?

Here is an almost modern recipe from “The Gentle Art of Cookery” (1925) by two very English ladies, Mrs Leyel and Miss Hartley.

Eggs cooked with Marigold

Blanch and chop some marigold flowers; poach as many eggs as are required, and while they are cooking sprinkle them thickly with chopped marigolds and season them with nutmeg, pepper and salt. They should be poached very slowly.
Fry some bread first steeped in milk. Strew the croutons with powdered marigolds; serve the eggs on the top with fried parsley, and garnish them with fresh marigold flowers.

Gives a new slant on the idea of “sunny-side up”, doesn’t it?

Tomorrow … An old take on seafood extender.