Pumpkin Pie à la Australie.

For those of you who would like a little variety in your Thanksgiving pumpkin pie this year, I give you a little Aussie inspiration.

Pumpkin Chiffon Pie.

One cup cooked pumpkin, 3 oz brown sugar, 3 tablespoons cold water, 4 level teaspoons gelatine, 2 level teaspoons cinnamon, quarter teaspoon ground ginger, quarter teaspoon spice, quarter tea spoon salt, 1 ½ tablespoons butter, half teacup milk, 2 eggs (separated), 2 tablespoons sugar, rind and juice of half a lemon, 6 oz, good short crust pastry.

Make pastry and roll it out to the size required. Place a greased flour ring or an eight-inch sandwich tin on an oven slide and line it with the pastry. Press firmly into position. Prick the bottom evenly, and line the pastry with greased paper and cover it well with dried beans or crusts of bread to support the sides, and keep the bottom flat. Bake in hot oven for about 20 minutes. Remove beans or crusts and paper, and return to oven for 5-10 minutes to dry the centre. Remove ring from pastry, and fill when cold with the following mixture:

Soften gelatine in cold water for five minutes. Combine pumpkin, lemon rind and juice, brown sugar, spices, salt, butter and milk, with' the slightly beaten egg yolks, and cook over a low heat until thickened. Add gelatine and stir until dissolved. Cool until it begins to slightly thicken. Beat egg whites until stiff; add the 2 table spoon sugar and beat again until stiff. Fold into the pumpkin mixture. Pour into the baked pastry shell and chill until firm.

The Advertiser (Adelaide, SA) Wednesday 17 July 1946

Pumpkin Meringue Pie.

Take a quart of mashed pumpkin, half a pint, of cream, ¼ lb. of sugar or more if desired, a few drops of essence of lemon, 4oz. of preserved ginger, chopped very finely, and the yolks of 3 eggs. Beat the mixture until thoroughly blended, and pour into sandwich tins lined with a good flaky paste. Bake until the paste is done and the pumpkin quite firm and set. Whip the whites of the eggs into a stiff froth, and mix in as much icing sugar as they will take up without getting too stiff; flavor with essence of lemon and a pinch of citric acid. Spread .this roughly over the pie, and return to the oven to set. Allow it to stay in the oven until tinted a very pale yellowish brown.

Sunday Times (Perth, WA) Sunday 3 July 1932

Pumpkin and Passionfruit Pie.

Use any recipe for pumpkin pie, but chose a very dry pumpkin, and add the juice of six passionfruit to every pint of mashed pumpkin, after straining away the seeds. As the juice of the passionfruit makes the mixture rather limp one more egg should be allowed than in the recipe.

The Australasian Cookery Book (circa 1915)

Pumpkin and Pineapple Pie.

Proceed as for pumpkin pie, only add a third of the quantity of grated pineapple.

The Australasian Cookery Book (circa 1915)

Quotation for the Day.

We're having something a little different this year for Thanksgiving. Instead of a turkey, we're having a swan. You get more stuffing.
George Carlin

Pumpkinless Pie.

It is impossible to avoid Thanksgiving, even if one lives on the other side of the world, in a country which does not celebrate the day. Every food corner of cyberspace is stuffed with remarks and advice and recipes for the occasion, so that every non-USA corner of the world lives through Thanksgiving vicariously – which may or may not be a bad thing.

In previous years on this blog I have attempted to assist, inspire, or amuse my American friends with Thanksgiving food stories (see the links below), and today is no exception. Today, for those of you who don’t care for pumpkin pie (don’t they take your citizenship away for that?), or are tired of it after using up your Halloween lantern innards - I give you Pumpkinless Pie, and remind you of Gingerless Gingerbread.

Our story begins with a short article in The New York Times in November, 1917:

Camouflage pumpkin pie has made a big hit with the men on an American naval vessel, according to an announcement made today by the National Emergency Food Garden Commission, which has its headquarters in Washington. It appears that in an effort to help food conservation, Mrs. G.M. King of 241 William Street, East Orange, N.J sent to the commission her pumpkinless pie recipe. The commission gave it to the crews, and among those who read it was Paul R. Wallace, a second-class baker on a vessel in the Navy. Wallace wrote Mrs. King this letter:

My Dear Mrs. King:

After having tried your recipe for pumkinless pie which was very much published in the papers, I would be very much pleased and appreciate very much if you could give me a recipe fore gingerless gingerbread, I am a baker in the United States Navy, and tried your recipe on 500 pie-hungry men of Uncle Sam’s Navy. The only kick they had to make was there was not enough. Ray Eaton, who is head baker on this ship and myself are specializing on economy  in the navy during these hard times, as are the folks at home, and the reason I ask you for this gingerless gingerbread is this: Some time ago we were asked to make gingerbread “without” molasses, ginger, spices, and butter, so Eaton and I thought you might have some sort of camouflage that would help us out. Very truly yours,

Paul R. Wallace, U.S.S. ___

Mrs .Wallace did indeed come up with the requested recipe, which has been in the GingerbreadArchive for some time, but never had its own post. I repeat it here, and follow it with her recipe for the pumpkinless pie.

Pumpkinless Pie.

Scald one quart milk: add scant cup of Indian meal and a little salt. When cold add two eggs, cinnamon and ginger to taste, sweeten with brown sugar. Put a little cream or milk on top and bake.

Gingerless Gingerbread.

Dissolve two cups of brown sugar in a little black coffee and add one dessertspoonful of soda. Add four tablespoons of nut oleomargarine, two tablespoons of lard, a little salt, then one scant cup of hot black coffee, and last, but not least, pepper to taste. Take one cup of graham and three cups of wheat flour and roll it out about one inch thick.

It seems to me that the Navy should have offered Mrs Wallace some sort of civilian medal for her service to the war effort.

Some Previous Thanksgiving Stories.

ThanksgivingMenus: Part I

ThanksgivingMenus: Part 2

ThanksgivingMenus: Part 3

ThanksgivingMenus: Part 4

Thanksgiving Food: Succotash.

Thanksgiving Food: Sweet Potato.

Thanksgiving Food: Cranberry Sauce

Thanksgiving Food:  Turkey Dressing.

Thanksgiving Food: Mock Turkey. 

Quotation for the Day.

What we're really talking about is a wonderful day set aside on the fourth Thursday of November when no one diets. I mean, why else would they call it Thanksgiving?
Erma Bombeck.

Hot Biscuits.

It is certain that the phrase ‘hot biscuits’ triggers completely different images in the minds of folks from different parts of the world. In the USA, if I am not mistaken, it indicates 'hot-from-the-stove' items served with gravy for breakfast – an item which in Britain (and Australia) would be called a scone, and served with jam and cream for afternoon tea. In England, ‘hot biscuits’ would be more likely to indicate 'hot-from-spices', thin, crisp ‘cookies’ such as one would serve with cheese or dips.

I came across a reference recently to ‘cayenne biscuits’ in a context that suggested they were of the British type of ‘hot biscuit’, and thought they would make a fine topic for this blog. It proved surprisingly difficult however, to find a recipe for them. I thought I had succeeded when I came across the following recipe in The Times of  March 18, 1940:

Cayenne Biscuits.

Make a paste with equal quantities of margarine, flour and grated cheese. Roll out as thin as possible, cut into rounds or strips, bake in a quick oven until a light brown, and serve hot. This is the perfect cheese biscuit.

I don’t know whether it was the cook or the copy editor who left out the cayenne, leaving us with a fine recipe for cheese crackers!  I guess the cayenne needs to be added ‘according to taste.’

A little further sleuthing came across an excellent idea from a professional baker – the author of

The Complete Biscuit and Gingerbread Baker's Assistant (1854). He has an interesting idea to ensure that the heat and flavour is evenly dispersed through the biscuits.

Cayenne Biscuits. These are the same as the former [plain yeast-raised thin crackers], with the addition of cayenne pepper: the way in which it is added is very bad, as it gives some biscuits a greater portion than others, which cannot be avoided when the powder is mixed with the dough or flour. To obviate this, I use an infusion of cayenne in spirits of wine, which I add to the water or milk, when they may be flavoured equally, to any height required. Take the following proportions for it: 1 oz. of cayenne pepper, or capsicum berries, (or if required very strong, 2 oz. should be used,) which steep for fourteen days in 1 pint of spirits of wine or good gin; put the whole into a bottle, and cork it close; use the clear liquor—a few drops will suffice. I never knew any other person adopt this method.

These are sold in boxes, as the others, and are principally eaten with wine, after dinner, as a stimulant to excess.

Now, wouldn’t that cayenne-gin be a good stand-by for your pantry? Or a gift for the spice-lover in your life?

Quotation for the Day

The inventor of soda crackers has a place in hell. 

Martin H. Fischer

Curring Flavour.

I am very interested in one of the earliest versions of convenience food - the idea of pre-prepared mixes and flavourings.  The idea goes back at least to medieval times with the use of the ‘strong’ and ‘sweet’ spice mixes known as powder forte and powder douce. We don’t know the exact compositions of these mixes unfortunately, and it is likely in any case, that the formula varied slightly from cook to cook, as such things to today.

The master of the concept of pre-mixed flavourings was the inimitable Dr. William Kitchener (1775-1827) whose Magazine of Taste, was the feature for a whole week of posts some time ago. The most ubiquitous and iniquitous modern take on the theme is of course ‘curry powder’, which can include almost anything and therefore means nothing but confusion.

I have a couple of interesting spins on the concept of curry powder today. They are taken from Tempting Curry Dishes (1891) a small promotional booklet for J. P. Smith's Curry Powder. You can of course substitute the curry powder of your choice (perhaps even your own mix.) The ideas might even make interesting gifts.

Curry Oil.
One of the agreeable and at the same time useful oils which should find a place on the shelf of every kitchen or butler's pantry, is known as Curry Oil. It is made by putting into a six-ounce, large-mouthed, glass stopper bottle two tablespoonfuls of J. P. Smith's Curry Powder,
then filling up the bottle- with Antonini Olive Oil. In a week it will be ready for use. A few drops of it should be added to sauces and salads.

Curry Vinegar.
Put into a pint of good cider or wine vinegar a tablespoonful of J. P. Smith's Curry Powder, shake it well from time to time, and in ten days it will be fit for use. It is excellent for flavoring soups, etc.

Curry Essence.
Add three ounces of J. P. Smith's Curry Powder to a quart of white wine vinegar. Put the bottle into a pot of warm water and cork it the same as in cooking beef tea; let it boil an hour, then place at one side to cool and settle. When thoroughly settled pour off the clear liquid and use for flavoring soups and sauces.

Quotation for the Day.

This curry was like a performance of Beethoven's Ninth Symphony that I'd once heard.....especially the last movement, with everything screaming and banging 'Joy.' It stunned, it made one fear great art. My father could say nothing after the meal.
Anthony Burgess

The Sinister Side of Omelets

I used to think of omelets as safe, inoffensive, and essentially rather dull food.  The sort of low-risk meal you might make for a surprise guest (in case they might be vegetarian), or your elderly Aunt Mabel, (in case she has forgotten her teeth again). A dish that is not too much effort to cook at the end of a long, hard, day, or to find the ingredients for at the end of an off-pay week. A choice you might make in a restaurant if you were too tired to choose, or too intimidated by the menu, or worried about mad cow disease. A convenient, inexpensive, healthy, reliable, and (if you add any available leftovers to the filling) environmentally friendly dish.  A dish entirely free of nasty surprises.

I have a different view of them now, since I read a story (perhaps true, perhaps myth) about the Maquis de Condorcet’s unfortunate experience after he ordered one 1794. 

In France in the revolutionary year of 1794, the Maquis, a mathematician and social reformer, was on the run from Robespierre, who had accused him of being a royalist.  He had been in hiding for eight months, but hunger got the better of him one day, and he left his refuge dressed as a peasant, in search of dinner.  His order of an omelet made the tavern owner suspicious, the authorities were notified, and the rest, as they say, is history. His mistake had been to order an omelet with 12 eggs – an omelet ‘trop imposante’, to which no peasant could have aspired (although I suspect that perhaps his cultured manners and lily-white hands might have had something to do with it too.)

In the end, the Maquis did avoid the guillotine - by taking poison two days after his imprisonment. Suffice it to say, there is a slight frisson of danger associated now with the omelet, and I cannot make or order one now without a quick glance over my shoulder.

A French Omelette.
TAKE the yolks of eight eggs, and the whites of four, a little pepper, salt, a very little nutmeg, half a tea-cupful of cream. Beat all together, and add half an onion shred small, and a little parsley boiled tender, and cut small. The frying pan being ready with some butter, put in the eggs and other materials; keep constantly moving till done enough A little grated ham will make the dish more savoury, if added before the ingredients are put into the pan.
Culina famulatrix medicinæ: or, Receipts in modern cookery (1804), by Alexander Hunter.

Quotation for the Day.

You can't make an omelette without breaking eggs.
Attributed to various people, including Robespierre (1758-1794)

Many roasts, one spit.

Yesterday we considered some old advice on how to successfully roast a large piece of meat without the modern aids of thermometer and clock. Our seventeenth century instructor, Gervase Markham, gave the advice in his book A Way to Get Wealth. It was detailed advice, but for modern kitchen ‘fraidy-cats, the idea is daunting, and I suspect that few of us would be willing to risk an expensive chunk of protein and try it out

Markham had an even more scary project in the clock-less and thermometer-less kitchen with its huge open fireplace. How about simultaneously roasting a couple of large joints, a capon, and a lark, and having them all ready at once?

Here is how:

“If you will Roast a Chine of Beef, a loyn of Mutton, a Capon and a Lark, all at one instant, and at one fire, and have all of them ready together and none burnt, you shall first take your Chine of beef and parboyl it more than half through: Then first take your Capon, being large and fat, and spit it next the hand of the turner, with the legs from the fire, then spit the Chine of Beef then the Lark, and lastly the loyn of Mutton, and place the Lark so as it may be covered over with the beef and the fat part of the Loyn of Mutton, without any part disclosed; then baste your Capon and your loyn of Mutton with cold water and salt, the Chine of beef with boyling Lard, then when you see the beef is almost enough,which you shall hasten by scotching and opening of it, then with a clean cloth you shall wipe the Mutton
and Capon all over, and then baste it with sweet butter till all be enough rosted: then with your knife lay the Lark open, which by this time will be stewed between the beef and mutton, and basting it also with dredge altogether, draw them and serve them up.”

To Know When Meat is Roasted Enough.

Did you ever pause to wonder how cooks in previous times managed to do their job without clocks and  oven thermometers, not to mention all the more obvious gadgets of the twenty-first century kitchen? We did touch on this theme some time ago, in a post which described the use ofprayers as a timing device, but there are plenty more hints and ideas from the past which we have not explored.

In 1623, the prolific English writer Gervase Markham published his book A Way to Get Wealth: containing six principall vocations, or callings, in which every good Husband or House-wife may lawfully employ themselves. The book was not about the entrepreneurial way to riches, as the title might suggest to us today, but about developing the skills to enable one to properly perform one’s role in life, and to husband one’s resources. Naturally, at this time, for the housewife, this meant skills in the art of cookery – not necessarily so that one could perform this often lowly job oneself, but so that one could properly supervise and train the cooks and kitchen staff (many of whom would have been illiterate.)

Here is his advice on how to know when meat is roasted enough – roasted on a spit in front of a fire, that is, not ‘roasted’ in the oven as we do today.

“Lastly, to know when meat is rosted enough: for as too much rawness is unwholsome, so too much dryness is not nourishing. Therefore to know when it is in the perfect height and is neither too moist nor too dry, you shall observe these signs: First, in your large Joynts of meat, when the steam or smoak of the meat ascendeth either upright, or else goeth from the fire, when it beginneth a little to shrink from the spit, or when the gravy which dioppeth from it is clear without bloodiness, then is the meat enough.

If it be a Pigge, when the eyes are fallen out, and the body leaveth Piping: for the first is when it is half roasted, and would be sindged [?] to make the coat rise, and crackle, and the later when it is full enough, and  would be drawn; or if it be any kind of Fowl you roast, when the thighs are tender, or the hinder parts of the pinions at the setting on of the wings, are without blood, then be sure that your meat is fully enough roasted: yet for a better and more certain assuredness, you may thrust your Knife into the: thickest parts of the meat, and draw it out again, and if it bring out white gravy without any bloodiness, then assuredly it is enough, and may be drawn with all speed convenient, after it hath been well basted with butter not formerly melted, then dredging as aforesaid, then basted over the dredging and so suffered to take two or three turns, to make crispe the dredging: Then dish it in a fair dish with salt sprinkled over it, and so serve it forth. Thus you see the general form of roasting all kind of meats: Therefore now I will return to some particular dishes together with their several Sauces.”

As our recipe for the day, I give you Markham’s instructions for roasting mutton with a stuffing of oysters – a concept reminiscent of the Carpetbag Steak which we considered recently in another post.

Roasting of Mutton with Oysters.

If you will roast Mutton with Oysters, take a shoulder alone or a legg, and after it is washt, parboyl it a little; then take the Oysters, great Oysters, and having opened them into a dish, drain the gravy clean from them twice or thrice, then parboyl them a little, then take Spinage, Endive, Succory, Strawberry leaves, Violet leaves and a little Parsly, with some Scallions; chop these very fine together, then take your Oysters very dry drain'd and mix them with an half part of these herbs; then take your meat, and with these Oysters and herbs farce or stop it, leaving no place empty, then spit it and roast it, and whilst it is in rosting, take good store of Verjuice and Butter, and Salt, and set it in a dish on a chafing dish and coals; and when it begins to boyl, put in the remainder of your herbs without Oysters, and a good quantity of Currants, with Cinnamon,a and the yelks of a couple of eggs. And after they are well boyled and stirred together, season it up according to your taste with Sugar; then put in a few Lemon slices; the meat being enough draw it, and lay it upon this sawce removed into a clean dish, the edge thereof being trimmed about with Sugar and so serve it forth.

Quotation for the Day.

Roast Beef, Medium, is not only a food. It is a philosophy.  Seated at Life’s Dining Table,  with the menu of  morals before you, your eye wanders a bit over the entrees, the hors d’oevres, and the things a la though you know that Roast Beef, Medium,  is safe and sane and sure.

Edna Ferber.

Culinary Heresies

I have a gem to share with you today. It is worth sharing for the title alone: Quick Cooking: A Book of Culinary Heresies for the Busy Wives and Mothers of the Land: by one of the heretics. The heretic is Flora Haines Loughead, and the book of six hundred and thirty recipes was published in New York in 1888.

Even if the title had been uninspiring, the shareworthiness would have accrued from the preface. I give you an extract from Ms Loughead’s somewhat rebellious introductory words:

“The editor is aware that this cook-book is a revolutionary production. It flies in the face of the accepted tradition that the woman who stands most faithfully over the cook-stove is best deserving of canonization. It lays the axe to old superstitions, which would have us believe that certain elaborate ceremonies and rights are essential to the successful evolution of certain dishes. It throws down the gauntlet to the leaders of modern cooking-schools, who claim to elevate the character of the humblest homes and advance the interests of economy, by the elaboration of simple materials and cheap articles of food into numerous fancy dishes, prepared with infinite labor. "Quick Cooking" declares that there is no waste in the kitchen so much to be deplored as wasted time. Unlike any other cook-book, its leading principle is to economize labor and time, at the same time securing to its disciples a wide choice of appetizing fare.

Whether the hours thus saved to the busy housewife shall be devoted to rest, self-improvement, to out-door recreation, to the training of her children, or to the discharge of other and more pressing cares, is left to her own decision.

The editor assumes that "Quick Cooking" will be consulted chiefly by tired and over-worked wives and mothers, who constitute by far the larger number of the housekeepers of the land. But even where There is a servant or two in the household, the book should be a welcome acquisition, for time saved to the servant is help gained to the mistress. The girl who discharges her kitchen duties quickly and methodically can help to clear the mending basket, tend the baby, look after the older children, and make herself useful in a variety of ways.”

“Hallelujah Sister!” I can here the cry across the land. This is timeless and timely advice indeed.

Are you ready, Ms Loughead’s new disciples, to secure your choice of appetizing fare?

First of all, the heretic is exhorted to Be Systematic, Learn to be Versatile in Action, Always use the Best Materials, and Provide Yourself with Handy Utensils. Tips on how to achieve these preparatory goals are freely given in each paragraph. Then come Part I (Five to Fifteen-Minute Dishes), and Part II (Twenty Minutes and More.)

From Part I, I give you a useful side dish, that only requires you to Be Versatile in Action and remember to cook extra cabbage the day before.

Baked Cabbage.

Cold boiled cabbage, chopped fine, stir in a little cream, and bake for eight minutes in a hot oven.

And from Part II, a useful addition to any heretic’s culinary portfolio – a nice quick cake. An organised heretic will of course have something in mind for the remaining 10 egg yolks.

Delicate Cake.

3 cupfuls flour

1 heaping teaspoonful baking powder

10 whites of eggs, beaten stiff

1 scant cupful melted butter

1 cupful milk

1 cupful cornstarch moistened with a little of the milk.

3 cupfuls of powdered sugar.

Put all ingredients into the mixing dish, beat together, flavor with lemon or vanilla, and bake in a moderate oven.

Quotation for the Day.

.. it is left to the decision of all intelligent people whether any article of dessert, which will be eaten in ten minutes by an ordinary family, justifies half a day’s hard toil.

Flora Haines Loughead, in Quick Cooking: A Book of Culinary Heresies... 1888