Tuesday, May 13, 2014

Macaroni Yesterday, Vermicelli Today.

As I mentioned yesterday, the early English references to ‘macaroni’ do not specifically indicate the short tubular form of pasta as the word does today, but simply meant ‘pasta.’ There was one distinct type of pasta mentioned in seventeenth century English texts however – vermicelli.

According to the Oxford English Dictionary, vermicelli is ‘a kind of pasta made in the form of long, slender, hard threads,’ and gives the first known written use of the word in English as occurring in about 1668. The word derives from the Latin vermis, meaning worm – think vermeology, vermiform, vermicide, vermifuge etc.

Vermicelli appears to have been used almost exclusively in soup in eighteenth century Britain.

Vermicelli Soup.
Having put four ounces of butter into a large tossing-pan, cut a knuckle of veal and a scrag of mutton into small pieces about the size of walnuts. Slice in the meat of a shank of ham, with three or four blades of mace, two or three carrots, two parsnips, two large onions, with a clove stuck in at each end. Cut in four or five heads of celery washed clean, a bunch of sweet herbs, eight or ten morels, and an anchovy. Cover the pan closely, and set it over a slow fire, without any water, till the gravy is drawn out of the meat. Then pour the gravy into a pot or bason, let the meat brown in the same pan; but take care it does not burn. Then pour in four quarts of water, and let it boil gently till it is wasted to three pints. Then strain it, and put the gravy to it. Set it on the fire, add to it two ounces of vermicelli, cut the nicest part of a head of celery, put in chyan pepper and salt to your taste, and let it boil about four minutes. If it is not of a good colour, put in a little browning, lay a French roll in the soup dish, pour in the soup upon it, and lay some of the vermicelli over it.
The Accomplished Housekeeper, and Universal Cook, by T.Williams (1717)

And from twenty years later - a quite slightly different interpretation of the concept of vermicelli soup:

Vermicelli Soop.
TAKE two Quarts of good Broth made of Veal and Fowl, put to it about half a Quarter of a Pound of Vermicelli, a Bit of Bacon stuck with Cloves; take the Bigness of half an Egg of Butter, and rub it together, with half a Spoonful of Flour, and dissolve it in a little Broth, to thicken your Soop: Boil a Pullet or Chickens for the Middle of your Soop. Let your Garnishing be a Rim, on the Outside of it cut Lemon, soak your Bread in the Dish with some of the same Broth j take the Fat off and put your Vermicelli in your Dish; so serve it.
You may make a Rice Soop the same way, only your Rice being first boiled tender in Water, and it must boil an Hour in strong Broth, but half an Hour will boil the Vermicelli.
And a slightly later and slightly different interpretation of the concept of vermicelli soup:
The Whole Duty of a Woman, Or, An Infallible Guide to the Fair Sex (1737)

And the pièce de résistance: the amazing Hannah Glasse included a recipe for fresh pasta in The Art of Cookery Made Plain and Easy (1784.)

To make Vermicelli.

Mix yolks of eggs and flour together in a pretty stiff paste, so as you can work it up cleverly, and roll it as thin as it is possible to roll the paste, Let it dry in the sun; when it is quite dry, with a very sharp knife cut it as thin as possible, and keep it in a dry place. It will run up like little worms, as vermicelli does; though the best way is to fun it through a coarse sieve, whilst the paste is soft. If you want some to be made in haste, dry it by the fire, and cut it small. It will dry by the fire in a quarter of an hour. This far exceeds what comes from abroad, being fresher.

Monday, May 12, 2014

A Cheap, Fresh, and Lasting Victual for Seamen.


The provisioning of ships was a great pre-occupation of Naval authorities, scientists, and medical men in the days when ships set off on long voyages across uncharted waters, at the mercy of the wind, with limited navigational aids, and even more limited methods of food preservation.

One man who was very interested in the subject was Hugh Plat (1552–1608) – an independently wealthy courtier, inventor, and writer. Plat wrote on many topics, particularly within the fields of domestic economy, agriculture, science, and medicine. His pamphlet Certaine Philosophical Preparations of Foode and Beverage for Sea-men, in their long voyages; with some necessary, approoved, and Hermeticall medicines and Antidotes, fit to be had in readinesse, at sea, for prevention and cure of divers diseases, published in 1607 contains a very early English reference to macaroni (by which he meant pasta in general.)

And first for Foode. A cheape, fresh and lasting victuall, called by the name of Macaroni amongst the Italians, and not unlike (save only in forme) to the Cus-cus in Barbary may be upon reasonable warning provided in any quantity to serve either for change and variety of meat, or in the want of fresh victual. With this, the Author furnished Sir Francis Drake and Sir John Hawkins, in their last voyage.

Interestingly, this reference to macaroni seems to have escaped the editors of the Oxford English Dictionary who give the first use in English as being in 1673 in Travels through the Low countries, Germany, Italy and France, with curious observations, natural, topographical, moral, physiological, & c. by John Ray. Ray refers to “Paste made into strings like pack-thread or thongs of whit-leather (which if greater they call Macaroni, if lesser Vermicelli) they cut in pieces and put in their pots as we do oat-meal to make their menestra or broth … ”

Plat had extolled the virtues of macaroni in a previous pamphlet, published in 1595. In Sundrie new and Artificiall remedies against Famine, in summary, he notes that the advantages of pasta as a food for seamen were:

-          - It kept well, even in hot conditions.
-          - It was relatively light in weight. On expeditions on land, one man could carry enough to feed two hundred men for a day.
-          - It cooked quickly – a bonus to the cook in the tiny cramped galley - and the saving in fuel translated to more saved space.
-         -  It could provide a welcome alternative to the interminable salt meat which was a staple of the seaman’s diet.
-          - It also served “both in steede of bread and meate, wherby it performeth a double service.
-          - Unused macaroni could be used to supply a second voyage.
-          - It lent itself to variation and enrichment (for officers only, presumably.)
-          - The ingredients for making macaroni are available all year.
-           
It was still over a hundred years before English cookery books began to regularly include recipes for pasta. Here is one of my favourites – an early version of mac ‘n cheese.

To Dress Macaroni with Permasent [Parmesan] Cheese.
Boil four Ounces of Macaroni ‘till it be quite tender, and lay it on a Sieve to drain, then put it in a Tossing Pan, with about a Gill of good Cream, a Lump of Butter rolled in flour, boil it five Minutes, pour it on a Plate, lay all over it Permasent Cheese toasted; send it to the Table on a Water Plate, for it soon goes cold.

The Experienced English Housekeeper, Elizabeth Raffald (1769)

Friday, May 09, 2014

The Baconian Club Dinner, 1896.

The Baconian Club was founded in London, Ontario, Canada, in January 1885 by members of London’s literary, legal, and other elite groups. The club was named in honour of Sir Francis Bacon, the great scientist and writer of the Elizabethan age, which no doubt comes as a disappointment to those of you who immediately assumed it was in honour of cured pig meat. Membership of the club was by invitation only, and was held at fifty – all male, of course.

The twelfth annual dinner of the club was held on May 1st, 1896 at the Grigg House in London, and the menu was:
MENU
---
“Rich the treasure,
Sweet the pleasure.” – Dryden.
****
East River oysters on half-shell.
Puree of Game, Jessienne.
Sliced Tomatoes.         Sliced Cucumber.        New Lettuce.
Red Sea Salmon, a la Genoise.
Boiled Turkey, Oyster Sauce.
Prime Roast Beef, Yorkshire Pudding.          Roast Spring Lamb, Mint Sauce.
Claret Punch.
English Sweet Breads, aux Petits Pois.          Frogs’ Legs, Breadead, en Brodeur.
Shrimp Salad.  Chicken Salad.            Lobster Salad.
Mashed Potatoes.        Boiled Potatoes.
****
“Thou troublest me; I am not in the vein.”- Shakespeare.

[second page of menu]
Orl. – Forbear, and eat no more;
Jaq. – Why, I have eat none yet.  As You Like It.

****
Spinach.          Asparagus, a la Cream.                       Baked Sweet Potatoes.
English Plum Pudding, Brandy Sauce.
Pear Tarts.       Apple Pie.       Lemon Pie.
Lemon Jelly.    Wine Jelly.
Baconian Ice Cream.
Strawberries and Cream.
Chocolate Cake.                      Fruit Cake.      Lady Fingers.
French Kisses.
Oranges.          Bananas.          Malaga Grapes.
Sliced Pineapples.
Mixed Nuts.    Assorted Candies.       London Layer Raisins.
Canadian Cheese.       Roquefort Cheese.
Café a la Mocha.
****
“When our old pleasures die,
Some new one still is nigh.” – Rowe.

Apart from the token inclusion of Canadian Cheese and the intriguing Baconian Ice Cream, there is nothing to distinguish this menu from any late nineteenth century formal public dinner in England, America, or Australia – the remnants of colonialism die hard, it seems.

As the recipe for the day I have chosen a rather girlie lobster salad from Cookery, by Amy G. Richards (Montreal, 1895.)

Savoury Cream.
1 small lobster, 1 tablespoon mayonnaise, ½ pint cream, ½ oz. gelatin, 1 gill aspic, 1 gill tomato juice. 
Decorate a border mould with parsley and lobster, and set with jelly; then mix together the mayonnaise and pieces of lobster; fill the mould and turn out when cold. Fill in the centre with lettuce dipped in mayonnaise, and garnish with aspic.

Thursday, May 08, 2014

To Make Wine of Water.

I have not dipped often enough into the wonderful book called: Epulario, Or, The Italian Banquet; Wherein is shewed the maner how to dresse and prepare all kind of Flesh, Foules, or Fishes. As also how to make Sauces, Tartes, Pies, &c. After the Manner of all Countries. Translated out of the Italian into English.  The first Italian edition was published 1516, but the edition available to me is the English translation of 1598.  I have finally taken it up again, and will seek out some gems for you.

The following recipe has a title guaranteed to grab one’s attention:

To make wine of water.
Take the grapes of a wild vine and drye them in the son then beat them into powder, and put them into water and it will have the tast and colour of wine, and if the grape be white it will have the same colour, if red the like.

So, not wine at all but a sort of raisin-water. I am not disappointed in the idea at all however, and if I had a wild vine handy I would try it.

For a “real” raisin wine, for those of you who do feel cheated, I can point you to no better source than The Compleat City and Country Cook: Or, Accomplish'd House-wife. Containing, Several Hundred of the Most Approv'd Receipts in Cookery, Confectionary, Cordials [etc.] ... Illustrated with Forty-nine Large Copper Plates, Directing the Regular Placing the Various Dishes on the Table ... Also, Bills of Fare According to the Several Seasons for Every Month of the Year (1732) by Charles Carter.
Stepony or Raisin Wine.
Take six pounds of Raisins of the Sun shred, three pounds of good Powder Sugar, the Juice of six Lemons, and the Peel of three whole. Boil them half an Hour in six gallons of Spring-Water, then take it off the Fire and pour it into a Stean, cover it close for three or four Days, stir it twice a Day, put in a little Spice, Sugar and Rose-water; afterwards strain it out, bottle it up, and it will be fit to drink in a Fortnight or three Weeks. There may be added to it Cowslips or Clove Gilliflowers, according to the Season of the Year.

I particularly like it that this recipe introduces two unusual words. The first is ‘stean,’ which, according to the Oxford English Dictionary, is “A vessel for liquids (or, in later use, for bread, meat, fish, etc.), usually made of clay, with two handles or ears; a jar, pitcher, pot, urn.”
I particularly like this word because it is attested in English in the eleventh century, so has some lovely age on it, and it is of course the same as the word used for a type of beer mug – a stein.


The second word of interest is ‘Stepony.’ This is intriguing. The OED defines stepony as “a kind of raisin-wine, made from raisins with lemon-juice and sugar added,” which certainly fits the recipe above. The earliest reference given (with the spelling ‘stipone’) is given in 1656. The OED says the word is ‘of obscure origin’ and suggests it is ‘possibly a use of Stepney , the name of a parish in the East of London.’ How fascinating! How, do you think, did this East London parish give its name to lemon-flavoured raisin wine?

Wednesday, May 07, 2014

Extinct Apples.

Yesterday I mentioned the pomewater, a variety of apple that was enormously popular for cooking and cider-making for several hundred years, but now appears to have disappeared. The botanical name was Malus carbonaria, and it was described by John Parkinson in Theatrum Botanicum (1640) thus:

‘The Pomewater is an excellent, good, and great whitish Apple, full of sap or moisture, somewhat pleasant sharp, but a little bitter withall; it will not last long, the winter frosts soon causing it to rot and perish.’

I guess we have at least part of the explanation of the disappearance of the pomewater in Parkinson’s phrase ‘it will not last long.’ Fruit with a short shelf-life is not comfortably compatible with the needs of industrialized nations and a city lifestyle, I suppose.

So popular was this variety of apple that it made frequent appearances in literature:  

‘Ripe as a pome-water, who now hangeth as a jewel in the ear of Coelo, the sky. (Love’s Labours Lost, William Shakespeare, 1597)

‘’Tis de sweetest apple in de world, ‘tis bestter den de pome-water, or apple John’ (The Pleasant Comedie of Old Fortunatus, Thomas Dekker, 1599)

 ‘The captain loving you so dearly, aye as the pome-water [i.e pupil] of his eye.’ (The Puritane, or Widdow of Watling-Streete, 1607)                                                                                                                                              
‘Whose cheeks did resemble two rosting pomewaters.’ (A 17th C Scottish ballad,
Blew Cap for me.)

I wonder if, somewhere in the world, there is a forgotten and neglected pomewater tree - or one of the other varieties which seem to have disappeared. I understand that the list of extinct apples may run into thousands. I know that ‘antique’ varieties are being regenerated in many places, and I do salute those orchardists who are involved in the process.  

In honour of the pomewater, I give you the following recipe:

To make Cyder.
TAKE Apples so thoroughly ripe that they will easily fall by shaking the Tree. The Apples proper are Pippins, Pomewaters, Harveys or other Apples of a watery Juice, either grind or pound them, and squeeze them in a Hair Bag, put the Juice up into a seasoned Cask.
The Cask is to be seasoned with a Rag dip'd in Brimstone ty'd to the End of a Stick, and put in burning into the Bung-hole of the Cask, and when the Smoke is gone, wash it with a little warm Liquor that has run thro' a second Straining of the Mure or Husk of the Apples.
Put into the Cask, when the Cyder is in, a Bit of Paste made up of Flower, and ty'd up in a thin Rag; let it stand for a Week, and then draw it off from the Lees into another season'd Cask.
Some advise to put three or four pounds of Raisins into a Hogshead, and two pounds of Sugar to make it work the better.
The best Way to fine it is to rack it off often, and always into small Vessels, keeping them close bung'd, and only a small Vent-hole, and if it should work after racking, you may put some Raisins into the Vessel for it to feed upon, and to bottle it off in March, or if you bottle it up. After it has stood but a Week or thereabouts, you must not stop the Bottles for twenty-four Hours; nor must they be filled within an Inch of the Cork or more, lest it should burst; and when you have cork'd them, it will be convenient to open them once a Day for some time.
If you bottle it for present Drinking, put in a Lump of Loaf Sugar. In order to keep it in the Winter, set it in a warm Place in cold Weather/

The Whole Duty of a Woman, 1737.

Tuesday, May 06, 2014

Sauce for the Pigge and Sauce for the Goose.

I want to consider sixteenth century apples and sixteenth century sauces today. The sauces led me to the apples, actually.

First, the sauces.  From The Good Hous-wives Treasurie published in 1588:

Porke Sauce.
Take Vineger, Mustard, Suger and Pepper.

Piggesauce.
Take halfe Vineger, and halfe Vergis [verjuice], a handful of percelly [parsley] and Sage chopte very small, a Pomewater shredde very small, then take the gravie of the Pigge, with Suger and Pepper and boyle them together.

Sauce for a Gooce.
Take Vineger and appells shred very small, two spoonfuls of musterd a little Pepper and Salte: and take Suger sufficient to sweeten it, then boyle it well together.

Capon sauce.
Take water, Onions, pepper, and some of the gravie and salte, and boyle together.

And now, the apples. One of the ingredients in the Piggesauce recipe is a ‘pomewater.’ I had to look this word up. According to the Oxford English Dictionary, this is ‘a large, juicy, sharp-tasting variety of apple.’ From (at least) the sixteenth into the early eighteenth centuries it was a much favoured variety of cooking apple, but sadly, I understand it no longer exists. It does not take much time perusing cookery books of those previous times to realise just how many apple varieties have been lost, leaving us with only half a dozen common, all-purpose fruits which transport and store well.

Please come back tomorrow for a little more on the pomewater.

Monday, May 05, 2014

A Cruise and a Cake.

I have not given you a steamship menu for some time, so today we are aboard the Pacific Mail Steamship Co. vessel S.S. Mongolia. It is May 5, 1908, and we are en route from San Francisco to the Far East. The ship carried 350 first-class passengers, 68 second class passengers, and 1,300 more travelled in steerage. Today’s menu does not specify the class for which the meal was intended – but it was certainly not for the poorer sort of person accommodated in the crowded depths of the steerage level of the ship.

Tuesday, May 5th, 1908
-
DINNER
--
Caviare Toast               Ripe Olives
--
SOUP
Rice Tomato                Consomme
--
FISH
Baked Fish, Brown Butter Sauce
--
ENTREES
Larded Filet of Beef
Stuffed Bell Peppers
Squab Chicken on Toast
Brandy Punch
--
Roasts
Roast Ribs of Beef and Horseradish
Roast Lamb, Mint Sauce
--
Boiled Fowl with Ox Tongues
Vegetables
Roast Potatoes             Mashed Potatoes
Fried Egg Plant             Wax Beans
--
Macaroni au Gratin
--
Puddings & Pastry
Sponge Pudding, Raspberry Sauce
Pumpkin Pie                Floating Island
Banbury Cakea
Crackers          Cheese
Fruits               Coffee

I had not difficulty deciding on which of the menu items to focus on today. The presence of Banbury Cake on a formal dinner menu is a little unusual – or it would certainly seem so to any English passengers on this American vessel, as it would more usually appear at afternoon tea in England. The cake is essentially a simple pastry stuffed with currants . It is a specialty of the town of Banbury in Oxfordshire, England, and has been made there since at least the sixteenth century.

The earliest known recipe for a Banbury Cake is from Gervase Markham’s The English Huswife (1615.)

To make a very good Banbury Cake, take 4 pounds of Currants, and wash and picke them very cleane, and drie them in a cloth: then take three egges and put away one yelke and beate them, and straine them with good barme, [yeast] putting thereto Cloves, Mace, Cinamon and Nutmegges; then take a pinte of creame, and as much mornings milke and set it on the fire till the cold bee taken away: then take flower and put in good store of cold butter and suger, then put in your egges, barme and meale and work them all together an houre or more: then save a part of the past, and the rest break in peeces and work in your Currants: which done, mould your Cake of what quantity you please; And then with that Past which hath not any Currants cover it very thinne both underneath and aloft. And so bake it according to the bignesse.

P.S. The very similar Eccles Cake appeared on another shipboard menu in a previous post HERE.


Friday, May 02, 2014

Simply Apricots.

Historians disagree as to whether apricots originated in China or Central Asia – the latter theory being reflected in the botanical name for the fruit – Prunus armeniaca. The English word apricot derives from the Portuguese albricoque or Spanish albaricoque, which in turn reflects the source of most of the fruit arriving in Britain in Roman times. The origin of the Portuguese and Spanish words is of course, Latin, and derives from praecoquum, a variant of praecox, which means ‘early-ripe, ripe in summer’ –from which we also get the word precocious.

There may be gaps and uncertainties in the story of the apricot, but consumers and cooks are pretty unanimous that the fruit is delicious and versatile. I give you three interesting historical recipes using apricots:

Confiture d'Amandes Vertes ou d'Abricots Verts.
Preserved Green Almonds or Green Apricots.
After taking off the down from the green apricots or almonds, as directed for the compote of green apricots, boil them in water till, on pricking them, a pin easily enters, and the apricot shrinks: then clarify some sugar, a pound to a pound Of fruit: boil up the sirup four or five successive days, morning and evening, without the fruit, which you leave to drain upon a sieve; lastly, put the fruit into a pan, and, when rather more than lukewarm, pour the sirup over it: when the apricots or almonds look very green, the sweetmeats are properly done.
French domestic cookery, by an English physician, 1825

Abricots a 1'Eau de Vie.
Apricots in Brandy.
Choose some fine apricots, not quite ripe, rub off the down with a cloth, and prick them through with a large pin; put them into boiling water a moment, then take them out, drain, and dry them: this is called blanching them.
For five and twenty apricots you should clarify about a pound of sugar in a pint of water. Then put the apricots into it, and, when they have boiled up, take them off the fire, and leave them in the sirup till the following day, when they should be strained again. Boil the sugar up again several times, again put in the apricots, let them simmer a little, and then take them off. When cold, put them into large bottles, adding the sirup, reduced as much as possible, but taking great care that it does not become candied. Fill your bottles up with brandy, and cork them tight. If you are obliged to use ripe apricots, it will be unnecessary to blanch them.
French domestic cookery, by an English physician, 1825

To make Apricot Dumplings.
Pare your apricots, but do not stone them, roll them in paste as you do apples for dumplings; three quarters of an hour will boil them; serve them with butter and sugar in a sauce-boat, and sift them over with fine sugar; for the crust three quarters of a pound of butter, a pound of flour, one egg; make it in a paste with cold water.

The New Practice of Cookery, Pastry, Baking, and Preserving: Being the Country Housewife's Best Friend. Mrs Hudson and Mrs Donat (1804)

Thursday, May 01, 2014

Going Dutch, Australian-style.

It is always interesting to see how one country interprets the cookery of another. Today I want to give you some “Dutch” recipes from Aussie newspapers between 1877 and 1949.

Dutch Sauce.
Put 1 ½ tablespoons of vinegar in a saucepan, and reduce it on the fire to one-third; add 2 ozs. of butter and the yolk of one egg. Place the saucepan on a slow fire, stir the contents continuously with a spoon, and as fast as the butter melts, add more, until ½ lb. is used. If the sauce becomes too thick at any time during the process, add a tablespoonful of cold water and continue stirring. Then put in pepper and salt to taste, and take great care not to let the sauce boil. When it is made – that is, when all the butter is used and the sauce is of the proper thickness – put the saucepan containing it into another filled with warm (not boiling) water until the time of serving.
The Queenslander, 20 January, 1877.

Dutch Fried Potatoes.
Put a spoonful of chopped onion into a frying pan with sufficient butter, and let it brown.
Add two cupfuls of sliced raw potatoes, sprinkle with pepper and salt, and fry till they are lightly browned. Next beat up an egg, pour it over the potatoes and serve at once.
Warwick Examiner and Times (Qld.) 7 October 1914.

Dutch Pudding.
Four carrots, one egg, seasoning, four sticks of celery. 1 oz. of butter, one teaspoonful of chopped parsley.  Cut the carrots and celery up quite small and boil till tender. Mash them as
smoothly as possible with butter, add salt, pepper, and a suspicion of white sugar.
Beat the egg, and when the carrot has cooled a bit, stir this in thoroughly. Press the mixture into a greased mould, put in the oven and bake until piping hot, turn out to serve, sprinkling the parsley over. You can serve this shape with or without melted butter. If it's to go with hot meat with gravy, don't make sauce.
Chronicle (Adelaide, SA) 13 November, 1926

Dutch Apple Tart.
For the Pastry. Flour 8 ozs., butter, 6 ozs., castor sugar 2 ozs., cinnamon 1 teaspoonful, water. |
For the Filling. — Cooking apples 1 ½ lbs., currants 3 ozs., sugar, cinnamon ¾ teaspoonful, water 1 tablespoonful.
Put White Wings flour in a basin. Rub in the butter ; then add the sugar and cinnamon, and mix with very little water to make a good- short crust. Roll out thinly, and cut into two pieces of equal size. Stew the apples with the cinnamon, one tablespoonful of water and sugar to taste, and when quite soft leave till cold.
Sprinkle one piece of pastry with currants, then cover with the stewed apples. Brush the edges of the pastry with cold water, and cover with the second piece of pastry. Press the edges firmly together, put on a greased baking sheet, and cook in a good steady oven for about half an hour. Cut into neat squares, and when cold dredge with icing sugar.
The Hebrew Standard of Australasia (NSW) 10 August 1928.

Butter Dutch Cake.
Ingredients: 4 oz. butter (or margarine), 3 oz. sugar, 3 oz. flour, dash salt, 2 oz. self-raising flour, 1 egg, 1 teaspoon cinnamon.
Method: Cream butter and sugar. Add salt and cinnamon, yolk of egg, lastly flour gradually. Press into tin and sprinkle with almonds or walnuts. Whip white of egg stiff, mix with a little sugar, and spread on top. Bake in a moderate to hot oven three-quarters of an hour.

The Mercury (Hobart, Tasmania) 16 August, 1949

Wednesday, April 30, 2014

Simply Onions.

The humble onion - how much do we take it for granted? The onion is one of our oldest vegetable foods – so old that many elements of its origins and early use are uncertain and mysterious.

The Oxford English Dictionary defines the onion as “the edible rounded bulb of Allium cepa, which consists of fleshy concentric leaf-bases with a strong pungent flavour and smell, varying in colour from dark red to white, and is used as a culinary vegetable, eaten raw, cooked, or pickled.” In English, the word is attested in one or other of its many spellings, since the fourteenth century – but the English word derives, not surprisingly, from the French oignon, and entered the language as a side-effect of the Norman invasion of 1066.

The onion originated in central or western Asia, and it has been cultivated by humans since very ancient times. It had distinct advantages over other vegetables in antiquity as it could store and carry well (so was useful on long journeys) and the importance of these attributes in the days before cold storage and Tupperware cannot be underestimated.

It is difficult to think of a national cuisine in which one or other member of the onion family is not essential (although several religious groups do eschew it.) Also not surprisingly for an edible plant of such antiquity, the onion has taken on many roles and accumulated many metaphorical attributions. For the ancient Egyptians, the multi-layered concentric globe of the onion root came to represent eternity and eternal life, and ancient Greek and Roman athletes ate onions and rubbed themselves down with its pungent juice to enhance their performance. As for its medicinal use, the onion has been used for a multitude of complaints from sore throats and headaches to impotence and the bite of a mad dog. Onions have even been considered appropriate as gifts and acceptable for rent payment, and the skins can be used to make dyes. Is the onion possibly the most interesting and fun vegetable?

I have heard it suggested that, should you be uncertain what to cook for dinner, put some onions on to braise anyway, because you will have the first step done when you do come up with a definitive dish. Such is the ubiquity of the onion in our cuisine. But surely the onion deserves more often to be a star, not a mere background note?

Here are a couple of recipes a couple of hundred years apart in which the onion really features:

A Fowl with large Onions.
Get a Fowl, clean and order it like that above*, lard it, spit it, and baste it with good Butter; cut large Onions into Slices, and put them in a Stew-pan with a Lump of Butter, then put it over the Fire; it being of a good Colour, strew it with a Dust of Flour; moisten it with Gravy, season it and skim it well; if it is not thick enough, put in a little of your Cullis: Your Fowl being done, take it off and dish it up; see your Ragoo be relishing, and put your Onions over it, with the Juice of a Lemon, and serve it up hot for an Entry.
[*truss the Legs inside the Belly, and lard it with thick Bacon, the Bignesses the Half of a small Finger; season it with Pepper and Salt, Sweet Herbs and fine Spices.   ]
The Whole Duty of a Woman, Or, An Infallible Guide to the Fair Sex: Containing
Rules, Directions, and Observations, for Their Conduct and Behavior Through
All Ages and Circumstances of Life, as Virgins, Wives, Or Widows : with ...
Rules and Receipts in Every Kind of Cookery ... (1747)

Frilled Onions.
Slice as many onions as required. Simmer until cooked. Drain off water. Have ready two beaten eggs mixed with half a cup of milk. Season the onions. Add the milk and egg mixture. Stir over the fire until the eggs thicken. Do not let the mixture boil. Serve on buttered toast.

The Queenslander (Brisbane, Qld) 21 March 1929

Tuesday, April 29, 2014

Retro Cakes.

I have a short and simple story for you today. My most popular posts, I believe, are those about baking. So, for those of you who have a thriving inner baker, or wish you had, here are three cake recipes from old Australian newspapers.

Red Devil Cake.
Method: Custard, 1 cup grated chocolate, ½ cup sweet milk, 1 cup brown sugar, 1 egg yolk, 1 teaspoon vanilla essence. Stir well together over the fire and cook slowly. Put away to cool.
Cake: 1 cup brown sugar, ½ cup butter, 2 cups plain flour, ½ cup milk, 2 eggs. Cream the butter, sugar, and egg yolks. Add milk, sifted flour, and whipped egg whites. Beat all well together, and stir in the custard. Lastly, add 1 teaspoon of soda dissolved in warm water.
In an electric over raise the temperature to 40o degrees, then switch the top off and turn the bottom [elements] to low. Cook for 30 or 40 minutes. Bake for three-quarters of an hour in a fuel stove.
The Mercury (Hobart, Tasmania) of 16 August, 1949.

Blair Athol Cake.
1 lb. butter, worked to a cream; 1 lb. loaf sugar, pounded and sifted; 1 lb. flour, well dried; 8 eggs, well-beaten; ¼ lb. candied orange; ½ lb. blanched almonds; 2 oz.citron. When well mixed put it in a tin lined with buttered paper, and bake it. to know when it is done, run a wooden skewer into it; if it comes out quite dry it is sufficiently baked.
The Queenslander (Brisbane, Qld.) 16 July 1881

Turtle Run Cake.
Line an oblong pan with pastry and then spread thickly with preserved fruit. Sprinkle three-quarters cup of finely chopped nuts over the fruit, then cover in lattice fashion with inch-wide strips of pastry. Brush the top pastry with beaten egg and milk and bake in slow oven for 35 minutes. Cover the top of the baked pastry wit thin water icing and then cut in oblongs.
Recipe by Mrs.M. A. Wilson, former Chief Cuisiniere in the Royal Household
of the late Queen Victoria.
Sunday Times (Sydney, NSW) 11 March 1923


Monday, April 28, 2014

Hickory Smoked Yeast.

We humans are indisputably drawn to foods rich in umami, the taste sensation that earlier gastronomes called osmazome, and the Japanese understand as deliciousness. Our brains may find umami difficult to describe, but our taste-buds recognize it instantly, and seem to crave it regularly.
The desire for the particular savoury flavour we call umami is delivered by many foods (meat, cheese, mushrooms) and we have become adept at adding it to dishes where it is inherently absent. We may do this by adding soy or fish sauces or other condiments, but there is another, which also offers a nutritional bonus. 

Yeast - and its ‘extracts’ or derivatives such as Vegemite – the iconic Australian staple bread and sandwich spread - is a rich source of Vitamin B, and can also add a nice rich taste-note of its own. I was intrigued by the following idea for adding even more flavour to yeast itself, from the New York Times of November, 10, 1942.

Hickory Smoked Yeast.
Not long ago this column discussed the difficulty of obtaining brewer’s yeast in a palatable form, only to be reminded that that superlative source of the vitamin B complex is now hickory-smoked. As a matter of fact, one company has been smoking it in this way for more than six years, marketing among a few stores scattered about the city.
The yeast – processed without heat so that none of the nutrients are destroyed – is a pale yellow powder, smelling like bacon and tasting a little like it too. A couple of teaspoons furnish about 200 international units of B-1, which is a little below the daily requirement recommended by the National Research Council. The idea is not to eat the stuff as it comes from the container, but to blend it with any foods that combine pleasantly with it.
Certain persons, according to one informant, like the yeast with butter, spread on toast or crackers, pancake or waffles, fish or meat. Others advocate its usefulness in cheese and egg dishes, baked beans, gravies. Still other sprinkle it on baked potatoes or employ it instead of sugar – at least, so they say – with dried or cooked cereal. The concern itself reports that its versatile yeast is included in the ingredients of many dehydrated soups, some of which find their way to the Army. A quarter is the price of a container holding one and a quarter ounces.

The same columnist gave a recipe in a later column which, methinks, would adapt quite nicely to the use of hickory-smoked yeast.

Sage Baked Beans.
(Serves six)
1 ½ cups navy beans
5 cups cold water
1 ½ teaspoons salt
1 cup soft breadcrumbs
1 ½ cups milk
2 medium-sized onions, chopped
2 tablespoons drippings or other fat
1 to 1 ½ teaspoons sage
½ teaspoon salt
Dash pepper
2 eggs, beaten
4 tablespoons brewers’ yeast.
Soak beans overnight in the water, add salt, and then simmer until tender but not too soft. Soak crumbs in milk. Brown onions lightly in fat and mix all ingredients. Pour into a greased baking dish, cover and bake in a slow oven (325 degrees F.) one hour.

New York Times, December 5, 1943

Friday, April 25, 2014

Anzac Biscuits: a brief history.

Today is an important day for Australians. It is Anzac Day, the anniversary of the landing of the Australia and New Zealand Army Corps on the Gallipoli peninsula in Turkey in 1915. An obligatory dish on the day is a plate of Anzac biscuits, and today I am going to repeat a post from my very old and defunct companion site to this blog – with an additional recipe for ‘Khaki Cakes’ so as not to seem so lazy on this public holiday!

From Hardtack to Anzacs.
“It is easy to think of biscuits without an army, but of an army without biscuits – never”, began the writer of a tongue-in-cheek article on Army biscuits in ‘The Anzac Book’, published in 1916. The writer went on to describe in a very humourous manner the incredible hardness of the ration biscuits, and to opine on the taste: “Is it the delicious succulency of ground granite or the savoury toothsomeness of powdered marble? Do we perceive a delicate flavouring of ferro-concrete with just a dash of scraped iron railings?"

This soldier was of course talking about “hardtack”, the traditional very dry, very hard soldiers or ship’s biscuit which, at a quantity of a pound or so a day, had formed the basis of the military and naval ration ever since there had been armies and ships on the move. It was a very far cry indeed from the Anzac biscuits so lovingly made and sent by the women at home to their menfolk at Gallipoli.

Hardtack - the word means “hard fare” - was the “bread” provided with campaign rations, as distinct from garrison bread, which was “soft tack”. In its simplest form it was an unleavened flour and water paste rolled out very thinly, and baked until very hard and very durable. In better times the basic mixture had sugar and milk powder added, but its hardness remained legendary.

Military men have honoured it with many names over the centuries: Stone Bread, Teeth Dullers, Sheet Iron, Flour Tile, Concrete macaroons, Ammo reserves, and in a typical example of Anzac sarcastic military humour – the Anzac wafer. Soldiers crumbled them into stew, or coffee, or broke them up and soaked them to make a sort of porridge – anything to make them swallowable and palatable. There were many variations on the theme of “put biscuits and a rifle stock in a pot, boil until the rifle stock is tender, throw away the biscuits and eat the rifle stock”.

The writer of the article quoted above said: “Well glazed, they would make excellent tiles or fine flagstones. After the war they will have great scarcity value as curios, as souvenirs which one can pass on from generation to generation, souvenirs which will endure while the Empire stands”, and he was not far wrong. There is an apocryphal story that hardtack biscuits made during the American Civil War in the 1860’s were re-issued for use during the Spanish-American war 35 years later!

The conditions of war and sea-faring meant that storage was often less than ideal. The biscuits were often damp and mouldy, or rat-nibbled, or weevil-ridden. One naval commander noted “Every biscuit is like a piece of clockwork, moved by its own internal impulse, occasioned by the myriads of insects that dwelt within”. The weevils that could not be shaken or lured out of the biscuits at least added some protein along with an unpleasant bitter taste – and their network of burrows helped them crumble more easily!

So, how and when did Anzac biscuits as we now know them develop? The word “Anzac” first appeared sometime in 1915, initially as a telegraphic code abbreviation for 'Australia and New Zealand Army Corps' . It quickly became a highly symbolic code word for the Corps itself and everything it stood for, and it became associated astonishingly quickly with a particular style of biscuit.

Wives and mothers at home have always tried to send food to their men at the front line. Once upon a time, it was pies made with a very dense inedible crust (the “coffin”) that were made for overseas delivery, and many were sent from England to soldiers fighting the Boers in South Africa. There would have been no refrigeration en route, and the idea makes us shudder today. Food sent from Australia or New Zealand to Anzac troops in WWI faced a sea journey of up to two months, without refrigeration, so it had to pack well and have a long shelf-life.

The exact historic details are yet to be uncovered, but it seems that it may have been the women of Dunedin in New Zealand that were responsible for the Anzac biscuit phenomenon. Oat biscuits are a Scottish tradition, and Dunedin is a city with strong Scottish roots. The style of biscuit had been around for a long time, with names such as “Golden Crunch Biscuits” or “Golden Syrup Biscuits” – many recipes advising that the alternatives of honey, treacle, or golden syrup could be used. Someone, sometime early in the war, made a batch and re-named them “Anzac biscuits”. The biscuits did not require eggs, which were often in short supply during the war, and they kept well. Huge quantities were made and sent to the Anzacs, or sold on stalls to raise money for other “help the troops” projects.

The transition from plain oatcakes can be seen from the Scottish cookbook “The Practice of Cookery adapted to the Business of Every-Day Life” (1840), by Mrs.Dalgairns.


Short Cakes.Sift four pounds of oatmeal, and mix with it four pounds of treacle, half a pound of brown sugar, the same quantity of melted butter, and three quarters of an ounce of powdered ginger. Work it all well together, let it remain for twenty-four hours, and then make it into cakes.
The Australian War Memorial website gives a recipe for a “popular version” provided by a Gallipoli veteran, Mr Bob Lawson.

ANZAC Biscuit Popular Version.1 cup each of plain flour, sugar, rolled oats and coconut, 4 oz butter, 1 tablespoon treacle (golden syrup), 2 tablespoons boiling water, 1 teaspoon carbonate soda (add a little more water if mixture is too dry)
Recipes will always be adapted, and the Marrickville Margarine Company’s “Pilot Recipe Book” (1937) for pastrycooks has a recipe for “Anzac Cakes”, which are actually peanut-containing biscuits.

Anzac Cakes.5 lbs. Plain Flour, 5 lbs Sugar, 4 lbs Cake Margarine, 2 ½ lbs Oatmeal, 1 lb. Golden Syrup, 1 lb. Coconut, 2 lbs. Granulated or half peanuts, 4 oz. Bi-Carb. Soda, 1 ½ pints Hot Water.Before you are tempted to vary the sacred formula too much, remember that the use of the word “Anzac” is protected under Commonwealth Law, in order “to protect the significance of the relationship of the word with the bravery and self-sacrifice of the first Anzacs”. The Department of Veterans Affairs notes that:

“Approvals for the word 'Anzac' to be used on biscuit products have been given on the proviso that the product generally conforms to the traditional recipe and shape, is not advertised in any way that would play on Australia's military heritage, and is not used in association with the word 'cookies', which is considered to have non-Australian overtones.”

Surely no self-respecting Aussie or Kiwi pastrycook would even consider making Anzac cookies?

And here, as promised, a new military-inspired recipe for the day:

Little Khaki Cakes.
Beat ¼ butter and ¾ cup sugar to a cream, adding two eggs, beating in one at a time, add gradually 1 ½ cups of sifted self-raising flower and 1 dessertspoonful of cocoa dissolved in ½ cup of milk. Bake in small patty tins in a fairly hot oven for ten minutes, try with a straw to be sure they are cooked. The little cakes can be iced, with chocolate icing, or covered in a mixture of thick cocoa, and then rolled in dessicated cocoanut.
Sunday Times, 23 November, 1919.


P.S. you will find previous food-themed Anzac Day posts at the following links: