To make a Marjoram Pudding (1737)

 I am going to start today at my usual end-point – the recipe for the day.

To make a Marjoram Pudding.

Take the Curd of a Quart of Milk finely broken, a good Handful or more of sweet Marjoram chopped as small as Dust, and mingle with the Curd 5 Eggs, but 3 Whites, beaten with Rose-water, some Nutmeg and Sugar, and half a Pint of Cream; beat all these well together, and put in 3 Quarters of a Pound of melted Butter; put a thin Sheet of Paste at the Bottom of your Dish; then pour in your Pudding, and with a Spur cut out little slips of Paste the breadth of your little Finger, and lay them all over cross and cross in large Diamonds; put some small bits of Butter on the Top, and bake it. This is old fashioned.

The complete family-piece: and, country gentleman, and farmer's best guide

(London, 1737)

Firstly, I have to say that I don’t remember coming across any other recipes in which marjoram is named in the title and is the sole flavouring ingredient – which is reason enough for it to catch my eye in the first place. Secondly, I love the final sentence – even more so because it is italicized!

Let us briefly revise marjoram. According to the OED it is “any of various plants of the genus Origanum (family Lamiaceae (Labiatae)), comprising aromatic herbs and low shrubs whose leaves are much used in cooking; esp. O. vulgare (also wild marjoram, common marjoram), native on chalk and limestone in northern Europe, the less pungent O. majorana (also sweet marjoram, knotted marjoram), and the shrub O. onites (also pot marjoram). Also: the fresh or dried leaves of any of these plants, esp. those of O. majorana. The leaves of O. vulgare are usually known in cookery as oregano.”  It is attested in English from 1393, but of course must have been known and used well before this – likely for centuries before.

Mrs. Beeton has relatively few words to say on marjoram in her Book of Household Management, published in 1861, although she does include it in quite a number of recipes. Specifically, she says:

MARJORAM.--Although there are several species of marjoram, that which is known as the sweet or knotted marjoram, is the one usually preferred in cookery. It is a native of Portugal, and     when its leaves are used as a seasoning herb, they have an agreeable aromatic flavour. The winter sweet marjoram used for the same purposes, is a native of Greece, and the pot-marjoram is another variety brought from Sicily. All of them are favourite ingredients in soups, stuffings, &c.

As well as its appearance in various soups, stuffings, etc. the manual does include marjoram in this rather pleasant-sounding dried herb mix:

Herb Powder for Flavouring, when Fresh Herbs are not obtainable.

INGREDIENTS.-1 oz. of dried lemon-thyme, 1 oz. of dried winter savory, 1 oz. of dried sweet marjoram and basil, 2 oz. of dried parsley, 1 oz. of dried lemon-peel.

Mode. Prepare and dry the herbs by recipe No. 445; pick the leaves from the stalks, pound them, and sift them through a hair-sieve; mix in the above proportions, and keep in glass bottles, carefully excluding the air. This, we think, a far better method of keeping herbs, as the flavour and fragrance do not evaporate so much as when they are merely put in paper bags. Preparing them in this way, you have them ready for use at a moment's notice.

Mint, sage, parsley, &c., dried, pounded, and each put into separate

bottles, will be found very useful in winter.

Please do let me know if you find any other recipes which feature marjoram!

On Salads: the fourteenth century and beyond.

Last week I mentioned the first ever English book devoted to salads - Acetaria, by John Evelyn, published in 1699.  I remembered, as I was composing the story, that this book was the inspiration for the first ever post on this blog on October 31, 2005.  On that day, I wrote, in part:

It was the golden age of the English kitchen garden when Evelyn published “Acetaria: A discourse on sallets” in 1699. He listed 73 main salad ingredients, plus “sundry more” (including tulip bulbs), which he said should be “exquisitely cull’d, and cleans’d” and blended “like the Notes in Music, in which there should be nothing harsh or grating”. The dressing should be made with smooth, light oil from Lucca olives, the best wine vinegar infused with herbs and flowers, the brightest Bay grey-salt, the best (Tewkesbury or Yorkshire) mustard, sugar and pepper, “the yolks of fresh and new-laid eggs, boil’d moderately hard”, and various other “Strewings and Aromatizers”.

At the time, I intended to go back to Evelyn’s work, and give you some more seventeenth century insights into the concept of salad. Nine years later, I am finally going to do just that!

First, however, let us look at the origin of the word ‘salad.’ According to the Oxford English Dictionary, the word references the Latin sal, for salt, and this origin is still recogniseable in Romance, Germanic, and Russian languages. The OED gives as its definition of salad:

A cold dish of herbs or vegetables (e.g. lettuce, endive), usually uncooked and chopped up or sliced, to which is often added sliced hard-boiled egg, cold meat, fish, etc., the whole being seasoned with salt, pepper, oil, and vinegar.

The OED even provides a fourteenth century recipe in one of the supporting quotations which shows us that the concept has remained essentially unchanged in over six hundred years.

Salat.

Take persel, sawge, garlec [etc.]..waische hem clene. .and myng hem wel with rawe oile, lay on vyneger and salt, and serue it forth.

Forme of Cury (c.1390)

In my post last week, I gave Evelyn’s instructions for the preparation of cucumbers, as they appeared in Acetaria in 1699. The method was already well-established by that time, as another recipe-quotation in the OED shows:

If you would make a delicate sallad of Cucumbers, boile them first, then pill from them their rind, serue them vp with oile, vinegre, and honey.

P. Holland tr. Pliny Hist. World II (1601)

But I digress. I intended to give you more of Evelyn’s general observations on salads:

Sallets in general consist of certain Esculent Plants and Herbs, improv'd by Culture, Industry, and Art of the Gard'ner: Or, as others say, they are a Composition of Edule Plants and Roots of several kinds, to be eaten Raw or Green, Blanch'd or Candied: simple – and per se, or intermingl'd with others according to the Season. The Boil'd, Bak'd, Pickl'd, or otherwise disguis'd, variously accommodated by the skilful Cooks, to render them grateful to the more feminine Palat, or Herbs rather for the Pot,&c. challenge not the name of Sallet so properly here, tho' sometimes mention'd; And therefore, Those who Criticize not so nicely upon the Word, seem to distinguish the Olera (which were never eaten Raw) from Acetaria, which were never Boil'd; and so they derive the Etymology of Olus, from Olla, the Pot. But others deduce it from [Greek script here for: Olos], comprehending the Universal Genus of the Vegetable Kingdom; as from [Greek script here for: Pan] Panis; esteeming that he who had Bread and Herbs, was sufficiently bless'd with all a frugal Man cou'd need or desire: Others  again will have it, ab Olendo, i.e. Crescendo, from its continual growth and springing up: So the younger Scaliger on Varro: But his Father Julius extends it not so generally to all Plants, as to all the Esculents, according to the Text: We call those Olera (says Theophrastus) which are commonly eaten, in which sense it may be taken, to include both Boil'd and Raw: Last of all, ab Alendo, as having been the Original, and genuine Food of all Mankind from the Creation.

A great deal more of this Learned Stuff were to be pick'd up from the Cumini Sectores, and impertinently Curious; whilst as it concerns the business in hand, we are by Sallet to understand a particular Composition of certain Crude and fresh Herbs, such as usually are, or may safely be eaten with some Acetous Juice, Oyl, Salt, &c. to give them a grateful Gust and Vehicle; exclusive of the [Greek: psuchrai trapezai], eaten without their due Correctives, which the Learned Salmasius, and, indeed generally, the old Physicians affirm (and that truly) all Crude and raw [Greek: lachana] require to render them wholsome; so as probably they were from hence, as Pliny thinks, call'd Acetaria: and not (as Hermolaus and some others) Acceptaria ab Accipiendo; nor from Accedere, though so ready at hand, and easily dress'd; requiring neither Fire, Cost, or Attendance, to boil, roast, and prepare them as did Flesh, and other Provisions; from which, and other Prerogatives, they were always in use, &c. And hence indeed the more frugal Italians and French, to this Day, gather Ogni Verdura, any thing almost that's Green and Tender, to the very Tops of Nettles; so as every Hedge affords a Sallet (not unagreeable) season'd with its proper Oxybaphon of Vinegar, Salt, Oyl, &c. which doubtless gives it both the Relish and Name of Salad, Emsalada, as with us of Sallet; from the Sapidity, which renders not Plants and Herbs alone, but Men themselves, and their Conversations, pleasant and agreeable: But of this enough, and perhaps too much; least whilst I write of Salt and Sallet, I appear my self Insipid: I pass therefore to the Ingredients, which we will call

Furniture and Materials.

The Materials of Sallets, which together with the grosser Olera, consist of Roots, Stalks, Leaves, Buds, Flowers, &c. Fruits (belonging to another Class) would require a much ampler Volume, than would suit our Kalendar, (of which this pretends to be an Appendix only) should we extend the following Catalogue further than to a brief enumeration only of such Herbaceous Plants, Oluscula and smaller Esculents, as are chiefly us'd in Cold Sallets, of whose Culture we have treated there; and as we gather them from the Mother and Genial Bed, with a touch only of their Qualities, for Reasons hereafter given.

Watch this space, folks, for some more extracts from Acetaria in the future!

The Seventeenth Century Cucumber.

I was tempted yesterday to give you the complete title of Nathan Bailey’s Dictionarium Domesticum, published in 1736, which was our resource for the day. Then I read it more carefully myself, and Lo! and Behold! a new topic presented itself to me in the form of a word I had to look up, so I decided to save it for today.

Here is the title in all its wordy glory – see if you can spot my choice!

Dictionarium Domesticum: Being a New and Compleat Houshold Dictionary. For the Use Both of City and Country. Shewing, I. The Whole Arts of Brewing, Baking, Cookery, and Pickling. Also Confectionary in Its Several Branches. II. The Management of the Kitchen, Pantry, Larder, Dairy, Olitory, and Poultry. With the Proper Seasons for Flesh, Fowl and Fish. III. The Herdsman: Giving an Account of the Diseases of Cattle, Poultry, &c. And the Most Approved Remedies for Their Cure. IV. The English Vineyard; Being the Best Method of Making English Wines and of Distilling Most Kinds of Simple and Compound Cordial Waters. V. The Apiary: Or, The Manner of Breeding, Hiving and Managing of Bees. VI. The Family Physician and Herbalist. Containing the Choicest Collection of Receipts for Most Distempers, Incident to Human Bodies, Hitherto Made Publick; with the Qualities and Uses of Physical Herbs and Plants of English Growth.

The word was olitory. Did you get it? The Oxford English Dictionary gives the etymology as deriving from the classical Latin ‘olitōrius, variant of holitōrius of or belonging to a kitchen gardener or vegetables.’

 So, an olitory is a kitchen garden. The first reference to the use of the word in English is given by the OED as being in John Evelyn’s Kalendarium Hortense, in his famous work Sylva, or a Discourse of Forest Trees ….. , published in 1664. He uses the word in this book in the following sentence: “Let such Olitory-herbs run to seed as you would save.” That John Evelyn (1620-1706) was the first to use the word in print is hardly a surprise, given that Evelyn was already a famous gardener and writer at this time, but he does actually reference the concept earlier in a diary entry made in December 1658, upon publication of The French Gardener: Instructing How to Cultivate all sorts of Fruit-Trees, and Herbs for the Garden – his translation of a work by Nicolas de Bonnefons:

There was no internal debate needed about the choice of recipe for the day today. There was only ever one choice – something from John Evelyn’s famous book Acetaria, which just so happens to be the very first English book specifically addressing salads. I give you his piece on cucumbers.

Cucumber, Cucumis Sativus; tho' very cold and moist, the most approved Sallet alone, or in composition, of all the Vinaigrets, to sharpen the Appetite, and cool the Liver, &c. if rightly prepar'd; that is, by rectifying the vulgar Mistake of altogether extracting the Juice, in which it should rather be soak'd: Nor ought it to be over oyl'd, too much abating of its grateful Acidity, and palling the Taste from a contrariety of Particles: Let them therefore be pared, and cut in thin Slices, with a Slice or two of Onion to correct the Crudity, macerated in the Juice, often turn'd and moderately drain'd. Others prepare them, by shaking the Slices between two Dishes, and dress them with very little Oyl, well beaten, and mingled with the Juice of Limon, Orange, or Vinegar, Salt and Pepper. Some again, (and indeed the most approv'd) eat them as soon as they are cut, retaining their Liquor, which being exhausted (by the former Method) have nothing remaining in them to help the Concoction. Of old they boil'd the Cucumber, and paring off the Rind, eat them with Oyl, Vinegar, and Honey; Sugar not being so well known. Lastly, the Pulp in Broth is greatly refreshing, and may be mingl'd in most Sallets, without the least damage, contrary to the common Opinion; it not being long, since Cucumber, however dress'd, was thought fit to be thrown away, being accounted little better than Poyson. Tavernier tells us, that in the Levant, if a Child cry for something to Eat, they give it a raw Cucumber instead of Bread. The young ones may be boil'd in White-Wine. The smaller sort (known by the name of Gerckems) muriated with the Seeds of Dill, and the Mango Pickle are for the Winter.

Acetaria: A Discourse of Sallets (1699) by John Evelyn.

An Interesting Oriental Beverage, in 1736

It was inevitable, over the last few days of wandering about in eighteenth century food and cookery books, to be reminded of a popular beverage of the time which I have not discussed in any previous posts.

During the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries in England there was a great fascination with all things Oriental. At the time, tea and coffee were expensive, but a delicious warming beverage (or a good facsimile of it) enjoyed in the mysterious East was so cheap and available that it was sold as street food to the labourers and other workers from the lower class. It was salep (or saloop, salop, salub …).

The Oxford English Dictionary defines salep as ‘a nutritive meal, starch, or jelly made from the dried tubers of various orchidaceous plants, chiefly those of the genus Orchis; formerly also used as a drug.’ The orchid family derives its name from the old Arabic word for testicle, which references the shape of the roots, which are the source of salep powder. The particular type of orchid used in the reference referenced here!  In Britain an early substitute was a local orchid with the charming common name of ‘dogstones.’ It is becoming easy to see the connection with the early attribution of salep as an aphrodisiac, is it not?

The original plant became relatively scarce in its native land due to local and global demand, and other starches from corn, potato, sago and the like became used to make the beverage – substitutions being facilitated by the bland flavour of the authentic preparation.

The first reference given in the OED as to the use of the word salep in English is given as occurring in Nathan Bailey’s Dictionarium Domesticum published in 1736, although I feel it likely that there are earlier references, if but one of us has time to hunt. Luckily for us, Bailey’s book is not a mere collection of word definitions, but a household manual with its topics arranged in alphabetical order – and including abundant recipes. So – here is the first known (so far) published recipe for salep:

Salep.

Put an ounce of salop or salep into a quart of water; set it on the fire, stirring it till it is as thick as chocolate, and then put to it orange-flower water, rose-water or sack; or you may add a little juice of lemon and sugar.

This is good for weak and consumptive people.

Inevitably, in Britain and Europe, salep was eclipsed and then forgotten under a tidal wave of cheaper tea and coffee (as well as the connotation of sinful, lusty behaviour), and it became once again an uncommon exotic Oriental beverage.

Tea, Beer, Medicine, and Caudles.

One good lead leads to another I often find, and my forays over the last couple of days into The complete family-piece: and, country gentleman, and farmer's best guide (published in London in 1737) turned out to prove the point yet again. A recipe for a ‘Tea Caudle’ in this useful and practical manual jumped out at me and begged to be befriended and posted (tea plus wine in the form of custard – what’s not to like?) so here it is – with friends.

First, a reminder. A caudle is, according to the Oxford English Dictionary, ‘a warm drink consisting of thin gruel, mixed with wine or ale, sweetened and spiced, given chiefly to sick people, esp. women in childbed; also to their visitors,’ as well as a sort of sauce or gravy to pour into a traditional raised pie. I have previously given a recipe for a beer caudle, so to justify the title of this post, I give it again today:

Beer Caudle.

Warm a gallon of small beer, and put into it three quarters of a pint of oatmeal, and a little allspice and ginger, both pounded. Boil it half an hour and sweeten it to your taste.

The Times (London, 24 July 1795)

And here is the tea caudle from my inspirational book of the week:-

To make a Tea Caudle.

Make a Quart of strong Green Tea, and pour it out into a Skillet, and set it over the Fire; then beat the Yolks of four Eggs, and mix with them a Pint of white Wine, a grated Nutmeg, Sugar to your Taste, and put altogether, stir it over the Fire till ‘tis very hot, then drink in China Dishes as a Caudle.

The complete family-piece: and, country gentleman, and farmer's best guide (1737)

The caudle has a proud lineage. Here is a recipe from the early fifteenth century:

Caudele.

Nym eyren [eggs], & sweng wel to-gedere / chauf ale & do therto / lie it with amydon [wheat starch], do therto a porcion of sugur, or a perty of hony, & a perti of safron; boille hit, & ȝif [serve] hit forth.

Laud MS. 553 (c.1420)

And my favourite, for you dyspeptic old men out there (you know who you are.)

To make a Caudle to comfort the stomacke, good for an old man.

Take a pinte of good Muscadine, and as much of good stale ale, mingle them to-gether, then take the yolkes of twelue or thirteene Egges newe laide, beat well the Egges firste by themselves, with the wine and ale, and so boyle it together, and put thereto a quarterne of Suger, and a fewe whole Mace, and so stirre it well, til it seeth a good while, and when it is well sod, put therin a few slices of bread if you will, and so let it soke a while, and it will be right good and wholesome.

The Good Huswifes Jewell (1596) by Thomas Dawson.

And now, by far the most intriguing version, from a book of medicines written by the famous scientist Robert Boyle, who gave us Boyle’s Law, which explains the relationship between pressure and volume of a gas. Boyle was not a physician, but was somewhat hypochondriacal by some accounts, and therefore interested in the art of home medicines:

For the Haemorrhoids, a very successful try’d Medicine.

Take Maiden Leeks (as some call those that grow without having been transplanted) and casting away the green part, make of the bulbous part and sufficient quantity of whole Oatmeal a Caudle, whereof let the Patient eat plentifully.

Medicinal experiments, or a collection of choice and safe remedies for the most part simple and easily prepared (1696) by Robert Boyle.

Finally, moving away from specific medical indications, here is a rather delicious-sounding idea which is really a variation on a theme of almond custard:

An Almond Caudle.

Blanch Jordan Almonds, beat them with a little small Ale, and strayne them out with as much more Ale as you minde to make your Caudle of, then boyle as you do an Egg Caudle, with a little Mace in it, and when it is off the fire sweeten it with Sugar.

The Book of Fruits and Flowers (1653) by Thomas Jenner.

A Medicinal Milk Diet in 1737.

Yesterday we looked at a recommended bill of fare for the month of November, from The complete family-piece: and, country gentleman, and farmer's best guide, published in London in 1737.

This book, in common with most household manuals and cookery books since medieval times, contained remedies for many medical problems. It was the responsibility of the mistress of the household over these centuries to know how to prepare medicines for common conditions. A physician, assuming that his services could be afforded, would only be called in for the most serious problems. It was perfectly logical for the ‘remedy’ to be a ‘recipe,’ as food and medicine were inextricably intertwined from ancient times,  and in fact, the ℞ symbol used on medical prescriptions is a medieval abbreviation for the Latin verb recipere, meaning ‘take thus,’ and from which we also get the word ‘recipe.’

Our source for the day includes advice on dietary therapy for gout:-

Professors Boerhaave and Osterdyke’s Regimen prescribed for the Gout.

They are of Opinion that the Gout is not to be cured by any other. Means but by a Milk-Diet, which will in twelve Months time alter the whole Mass of Blood; and, in order thereto, the following Directions muft be strictly observ’d and follow’d.
I. You must not taste any Liquor, only a Mixture of one third Milk, and two thirds Water, your Milk as new as you can get it, and to drink it as often as you have Occasion, without adding any other to it. A little Tea and Coffee is likewise permitted, with Milk.

II. In the Morning as soon as awake, and the Stomach has made a Digestion, you must drink eight Ounces of Spring-water, and fast two Hours after; then eat Milk and Bread, Milk-Pottage, or Tea with Milk, with a little Bread and fresh Butter.

III. At Dinner you mull not eat any thing but what is made of Barley, Oats, Rice, or Millet Seed, Carrots, Potatoes, Turnips, Spinage, Beans, Pease &c.  You may likewise eat Fruit when full ripe, baked Pears or Apples, Apple-Dumplings; but above all, Milk and Bisket is very good; but nothing salt or sour, not even a Seville Orange.

IV. At Supper you mull eat nothing but Milk and Bread.

V. It is necessary to go to Bed betimes, even before Nine o’Clock, to accustom yourself to sleep much, and use yourself to it.

VI. Every Morning before you rise, to have your Feet, Legs, Arms and Hands, well rubb’d with Pieces of woollen Cloth for half an Hour, and the same going to Bed. This Article mull be strictly observed, for by this Means the Humours, Knobs and Bunches will be dissipated, and prevent their fixing in the Joints, by which they become useless.

VII. You mutt accustom youself to Exercise, as riding on Horse-back, which is best, or in a Coach, Chaise, &c. the more the better; but take care of the cold Weather, Winds, and Rain.

Lastly, In case a Fit of the Gout should return, and be violent, which they are of Opinion will not, then a little Dose of Opium or Laudanum may be taken to compose you ,— but no oftner than Necessity requires. They are of Opinion, that your Father or Mother having the Gout, is of no Consequence, if you will resolve to follow the foregoing Directions strictly.

I give you, as the recipe for the day, a lovely recipe for apple dumplings, which will be equally delicious whether or not you have gout.

Apple-Dumplings in an extraordinary way. From Mrs. Johnson.

Take Golden-Rennets ripe, pare them and take out their Cores; then cut the Apples into small pieces, and with a large Grater, grate in a Quince, when it has been pared and cored: for if you was to slice in a Quince, to your Apples, in large pieces, the Quince would not be boil'd equally with the Apples; for the Quince is of a tough Nature, and will not boil under twice the time that the Apples will: therefore to grate them, will be enough to give their flavour to the Apple, and make all enough at one time. Put what Sugar you think proper into each Dumpling, when you take it up, and the necessary quantity of Butter. It will then cat like a Marmalade of Quince.

Note, The Crust or Paste, for these Dumplings, must be of a Puff-Paste made with Butter, rubb'd into Flour, and for some Other Parts of the Butter, break them into the Paste, and roll them three times, and put in the Apples to the Crust, tying them into a Cloth well flour'd, and boiling them. It may be understood before, that when they are taken up hot, the Ceremony of sugaring and buttering is necessary.

The Country Housewife and Lady's Director, in the Management of a House, and the Delights and Profits of a Farm (1732) by Robert Bradley.

A Bill of Fare for November, in 1737.

Modern magazines and newspaper columns which focus on food and dining sometimes give recommendations for daily menus, especially for holiday celebrations. It is certain that we are about to be inundated with highly idealized suggestions for Thanksgiving (if you are in the U.S.) and for Christmas and New Year. In the past, monthly or seasonal menus were also commonly presented in cookery books, but rapid international transport, efficient methods of refrigeration, and the use of chemical preservatives have all but eliminated the need for this sort of advice for most of us (although of course eating seasonally still has much to recommend it.)

In remembrance of a time when there was little option but to eat seasonal food, I thought we might spend a day or two in England, in the first half of the eighteen century. For those of you in the northern hemisphere, here is a bill of fare for the month of November, as suggested in The complete family-piece: and, country gentleman, and farmer's best guide (London, 1737):-

First Course.

Boiled Fowls with Savoys, Bacon, &c.

Dish of stew’d Carps and scalloped Oysters.

Chine of Veal and Ragoo.

Sallad and Pickles.

Venison Pasty.

Roasted Geese.

Calves Head hashed.

Dish of Gurnets.

Grand Patty.

Hen Turkey roasted with Oysters.

Second Course.

Chine of Salmon and Smelts.

Wild Fowl of Sorts.

Potato Pye.

Sliced Tongue with Pickles.

Dish of Jellies.

Dish of Fruit.

Quince Pye.

I had my heart set on giving you the instructions for the ‘Grand Patty’ (which also appeared on the February bill of fare), as it sounds so … well, Grand, but Alas! there was no such recipe in the book. A ‘patty’ at this time was a pie, so I am sure that the name indicates one with a grand filling, and perhaps of a grand size, as the tense is singular. Instead, I give you a method of preparing your fruit for quince pie – a staple since medieval times – from a cookery book of the same era.

To pickle Quinces for keeping.

Take a Parcel of clear Quinces and codle them, then take them out of the Water, and put them in a Pan, and boil up some Parings, Cores, and ordinary Quinces slic'd, in the Liquor, and pour all that together hot on the Quinces, and cover the Pan, and that will keep them; when you take out any for Use, turn back the skin on the Top over the rest, and not break it. This will keep them for Buttering, or Pies.

Court Cookery: or, The compleat English cook (London, 1725) 

by Robert Smith (Cook)

Samphire and Purslane: ideas from 1682.

Recently I used an interesting book on the salt and fishing industries as a source of inspiration for a post, and I want to return to it today. Salt and Fishery (London, 1682) by John Collins includes some recipes for cooking fish, which is perhaps not too surprising, given its title. It also has a few other delights for us, and I think those of you who consider yourselves good foragers may be interested. I probably don’t need to mention that there is a caveat when considering using methods of preservation described in historical cookery books –they do not always meet modern safety recommendations! Having said that, I understand that sufficient vinegar usually protects against the organisms that cause serious food poisoning.

I am sure I have not previously given a recipe for samphire – sometimes known as ‘Poor Man’s Asparagus’ – which is a shocking oversight. Thank goodness I can remedy that omission today.

To Pickle Samphire.

The Isle of Wight yields plenty of it, and the Port-Sea Saltworks most excellent …. which Mr. Alcorne pickleth in the manner following.

1.Make such a Liquor of Water, Elder Vinegar, White-Wine and Salt is as pleasing.

2.Let the Samphire be scalded in it, and when the Vessel  is taken off, cover with a Cloath to keep the steam in for a quarter of an hour, and it will be tender, but if it be required hard, not to be boyled again, cover it not at all.

3.Then take the Samphire out of the Liquor, and let both cool by themselves, and afterwards put them up in a Vessel close covered to keep for use.

The Herb may be preserved without scalding, but when it is to be used, it must be boyled.

To pickle Purslayn.

Take Purslayn with their Stalkes, and boyl them tender in fair water, and lay them a drying or soaking, when done, put them in a Gally-pot, and make a Brine with Salt and Elder-Vinegar to put to them, so as to cover them, and keep the Pot close stopt.

John Bull in Russia; 1871

There was a generic flavour to aristocratic and diplomatic dinners in Europe in the nineteenth century. Menus were generally-speaking, written in French (with varying degrees of accuracy) and it is near-impossible to tell where the meal was held simply by looking at the list of dishes.

There is an interesting item on “London Dinners” in Macmillan's Magazine in 1872. The author of the piece waxes lyrical for some length on the good and bad points of dining in the great city, and invokes the opinion of a “lady friend” residing in Russia. The lady would seem to be English, and “at Court” in that country – so perhaps is married to an ambassador or other diplomat?

“In this country, where people do not converse freely with each other without an introduction, any foreigner should be specially introduced by host or hostess; and the only good reason which can be given for not doing the same to every guest, is that in our vast London society, those may be inadvertently asked together, who have been trying to avoid each other all their lives, and then an introduction becomes awkward. A little arrangement is of course necessary as to sending down the right ladies and gentlemen together, and also as to seating them properly at table, so that husbands and wives, brothers and sisters, are not placed next to each other; and for want of this previous forethought the best assorted parties are sometimes quite spoiled. Having begun with the assumption that parties of fourteen or sixteen are best suited for the size of ordinary London dining-rooms, as well as for conversation, the number of attendants upon such a party must of course be regulated by the fortune of the entertainer; but to ensure perfect attendance, one servant to every three guests is about the necessary number. Much of general comfort, and more of mental activity than is generally supposed, depends upon the temperature and ventilation of a room. With the thermometer at 62°, conversation may flow easily, and wits may be at their brightest and sharpest; but raise the temperature to 75° or 80°, and the most elastic spirits become subdued, the most brilliant genius subsides into mediocrity. I am always tempted to ask, when I hear that some wit “was not himself last night,” what was the state of the thermometer“!  No dinner should last more than an hour and a quarter, or at longest an hour and a half; if it does, a pleasure becomes a pain. There is no country in Europe, I believe, where so much time is spent at the dinner table as in England, and this is owing to the greater number of dishes which we think necessary. I have on this point consulted a lady friend in Russia, whose table there is considered as well and plentifully supplied as that of anyone at the Court, and her answer is as follows : ”

“St. Petersburg, June 17, 1871.”

“1 send you menus of our own three last dinners, which are very good specimens. The one for twenty-two was set up in a hurry for Marshal Comte Berg* and other Government generals, only here for a few days; otherwise two soups, one clear and one purée, would have been better: it is the very largest dinner as to dishes ever given here. The dinners in Berlin, at the King’s and Crown Princess’s, I remember, were even smaller. Sometimes at very State dinners a Punch à la Romaine is put in between the cold entrée and the rots; that is all. Of course beyond twelve or fourteen there are doubles and trebles of each dish handed round at the same time, and each dish comes in separately and is quite done with before another comes. The dessert and flowers are on the table. It is thought a very badly served dinner if it takes more than 1 or 1¼ hour. The dessert is then handed round, each dish, and the plates changed for each dish; then the finger glasses and water put down on a plate each, which is the signal for the end.  The serving of the dessert is included in the time I have named. It would be a most happy revolution in London if you could bring it about. Here they wait very dexterously, and no one is ever forgotten in handing a dish as each goes regularly round.”

The menu for the dinner set up in a hurry for Marshal Comte Berg (presumably Field Marshall Count Friedrich Wilhelm Rembert von Berg} was given by the lady correspondent as:

FOR 22 PERSONS

Diner du 8 Mai, 1871.

Consommé de volaille à la D’Orleans.

Petits pâtés.

Truites saumonée, sauce hollandaise.

Filets de bœuf à la Jardinière.

Suprêmes de volaille à l’écarlate.

Côtelettes de foies gras en Bellevue.

Poulets nouveaux, perdreaux et cailles rôtis.

Salade.

Haricot verts à l’Anglaise.

Plum puddings, sauce John Bull.

Glaces à l’écossaise.

The John Bull sauce on this menu is intriguing. There was certainly a commercial bottled sauce by this name available in 1871, and it is possible that this is what was offered by the British hosts at this dinner in St. Petersburg (in a beautiful sauce-boat, presumably), as a nod to national sentiment. In view of the apparent short notice for the dinner, it is unlikely that the chef created a new sauce for the occasion, although he could have tweaked and re-named a classic.

I have been unable to find a recipe for a John Bull sauce, so instead give you John Bull pudding – from an American cookery book.

John Bull Pudding.

Time, six hours. – One pound of flour, one pound stoned raisins, one pound currants, quarter of a pound sugar, one ounce citron, one pound suet chopped fine, six eggs beaten very light, one gill good brandy. Some of the flour (sifted) should be reserved to mix with the dry fruit. Boil six hours; keep boiling water at hand to replenish as it boils; to be eaten with hard or liquid sauce, as taste may dictate; turn the pudding a few times when you first put it to boil.

Bride's Cook Book, (San Francisco, 1909)

Gingerbread Night.

Today is (or was) Guy Fawkes’ Night when Britons used to celebrate the failed plot to blow up the houses of Parliament in 1605 with bonfires and fireworks – and toffee apples and gingerbread. Most of the fun is now neutered or forbidden due to fire and safety regulations, but there is still gingerbread. The most traditional type of gingerbread on the day is called ‘parkin’ – and I have covered this in previous posts (here, and here,) so today I want to look at a different motivation for eating the stuff – medicinal reasons.

I have, in fact, given a recipe for Medicated Gingerbread in the past, but there is more on the theme!

Gingerbread for Delicate People.

One pound of oatmeal, one half of a pound of flour, one-half pound of butter, one-half pound of sugar (moist) one-half pound of treacle. The three last-named ingredients must be put in a pan and left to boil a few minutes taking care they do not burn: pour the mixture over the flour and meal and mix very well together, adding a good deal of ginger. It is the best plan not [to] bake it until the following day as it gives the meal time to swell. Roll it out the thickness of your finger and cut it in lengths, and bake in a slow oven. It must be kept in a tin box.

Queanbeyan Times (NSW) 3 December 1884.

I have no idea why that recipe would serve for those who are 'delicate' – it is not essentially any different from any other gingerbread recipe.

Dyspeptic Gingerbread.

Two pounds and a half of unbolted flour.

Half a pound of butter

One table-spoonful of ginger.

One teaspoonful of allspice and cloves, mixed.

One table-spoonful of saleratus.

Mix all the ingredients with as much molasses as will make it into a dough. Knead it well, then roll in thin sheets, and cut with a round cutter. Place them on buttered tins, then wash them over with thin molasses and water and bake in a moderate oven.

Widdifield's New Cook Book: Or, Practical Receipts for the House-wife

(Philadelphia,1856)

Again, I don’t know why this gingerbread is specifically for dyspeptics.

The following comment on the physiological effects of a certain style of gingerbread is appropriate for our theme, but I do hope it does not put you off eating it!

Gingerbread Aperient.  Gingerbread, made with oatmeal or with barley flour, is a very agreeable aperient for children. Beware of giving children medicines too frequently.

Enquire Within Upon Everything (1869) by Robert Kemp Philp

A Mixed Diet Dinner in 1940.

I have a little puzzle for you today. It begins (and ends too, I suppose) with an article (or maybe not an article) in the Kingston Gleaner [Kingston, Jamaica] of April 10, 1940.

Freak Dinner Draws Comment From Noted Prof.

 Professor Armondsay V. Stoors, world-famed connoisseur, guest of Socialite Mrs. Bette N. Rico while on visit here and who sails shortly for Europe made significant comments during a freak dinner given in his honour last night at the home of his hostess in St. Andrew.

The dinner was a strange affair where all courses were served at once, and the guests were asked to partake in whatever manner they felt inclined: from “soup to nuts” or vice-versa or any way that best appealed to them.

This remarkable dinner, arranged by whimsical Mrs. Rico (whose idea it was) was indeed a brilliant and unusual compliment to the guest of honour who is the world’s foremost food connoisseur of the “mixed diet” school of persuasion.

Prof Stoors believes in a mixed diet, “little of everything” at meals, as oppoed to the “Food Combinations” exponents who hold that indiscriminate combination of food may have injurious results.

There was much hilarity as the dinner progressed as every one “mixed” their fare according to whim and inclination, and Prof. Stoors showed he practiced what he preached by partaking of some of everything served.

At conclusion, during a brief speech in which he thanked Mrs Rico for her brilliant compliment to his convictions, Prof. Stoors said “I need not tell you how much I enjoyed this dinner, my appreciation must show on my face, but let me compliment you on the freshness and excellence of the ingredients that went to make up this delightful meal. As a connoisseur I realize that a dinner is only as healthful and delicious as its ingredients are wholesome and fresh. Your grocer must be complimented, madam.”

“Oh, yes, Professor,” said Mrs. Rico, “I shop for my groceries at the Army & Navy Stores where only the best foodstuffs are stocked as I don’t believe in taking chances with one’s food – the A. & N. Stores is where the best people go for their groceries.

*An Advertisement for Army and Navy Stores, 136 Harbour Street – by Ramos de Moya.

The puzzle is in the asterisked and italicized final sentence. Is this an advertisement? I cannot find any mention of a Professor Armondsay V. Stoors in an admittedly brief bit of research, nor of a capital-S Socialite called Bette Rico.

Time permitting, I will explore other editions of the Kingston Gleaner – if there is a real Mrs. Rico and she is as prominent on the social scene as the piece suggests, then she should be elsewhere in its pages.

The comments on dietary fashions of the time are interesting however – I had not realised that the Food-Combinationists were such a force to be challenged in the 1940’s. And I do like the mixed dinner idea.

As the recipe for the week, there was really only one option – or three, in fact – the winning ideas in a competition run in 1941 by The Banana Disposal Committee in Jamaica. The purpose of the competition was “To Help Yourself, To Help Jamaica, and to Help England.” and cash prizes (of ₤1 - ₤5) were offered for recipes in three categories:  Recipes Using The Banana as a Breakfast Food, for Recipes Using The Banana as a Vegetable Dish, and for Recipes Using The Bananas for Desserts, Preserves, Cakes, Ice Creams etc.

Class 1 – Banana and Salt Fish Cakes.

3 green bananas

¼ lb boiled salt fish

Seasoning to taste

A little milk

A little flour

Boil bananas and mash.

Remove skins and bones from fish and flake with a fork and add bananas.

Add seasoning and milk to bind.

Dredge with flour, shape in cakes

Fry in hot Palm Isle Oil [brand]

Drain on paper and serve hot.

Class 2 – Banana Sausages.

1 cup cooked and crushed green bananas.

⅔ cup breadcrumbs

¼ cup grated cheese.

½ teaspoon salt.

½ teaspoon pepper.

2 eggs.

2 tablespoons Dairy Maid Margarine.

Place crushed cooked green bananas in a bowl, add beaten egg (1) Dairy Maid Margarine, salt, pepper, and shape into form of sausages. Roll in cheese and breadcrumbs and beaten egg (1). Fry in deep hot Palm Isle Oil until golden brown. Serve with Tomato sauce.

Class 3 – Banana Cakes.

½ cup Standard Margarine

1 ½ cups sugare

2 eggs

1 cup mashed bananas

¼ cup sour milk

¾ teaspoon soda

2 cups cake flour

½ teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon baking powder

Cream the butter until soft. Gradually add the sugar and continue beating until light. Beat the eggs until very light and add to the first mixture. Combine with the mashed bananas and sour milk. Sift the flour, measure it and sift again with the soda, baking powder and salt.

Stir into the first mixture and beat until smooth. Bake in loaf pan in moderate oven for about 50 minutes. Frost with a white icing or serve unfrosted with whipped cream.