Things to do with Gooseberries.

I write this out of nostalgia. Here in sub-tropical Queensland we have mangoes and bananas and pineapples and all manner of fruit, but we do not have gooseberries. At least, I have never found them here. I do remember them from my childhood in the north of England, and occasionally I have been lucky enough to come across them during one of my visits to the Old Country. Once upon a time in England they were eagerly awaited as one of the first fresh fruits available after winter, but nowadays this advantage is not what it was, thanks to modern transport and import systems which have enabled fruit from far-away to become as close as the local greengrocer.

In celebration of the tart, strictly seasonable fruit, I give you a selection of recipes from the last couple of hundred years:

To make Gooseberry Jam.

Take large gooseberries when ripe, an equal quantity of red and crystal, nick them and squeeze out all the seeds and pulp, to a pint of this put half a pint of the juice of red currants, to a quart of this mixture, take a pound and a half of loaf sugar, beat the sugar and mix all together, let it stand all night, then put it into a stew-pan, set it over a slow fire, take off the scum as it rises, boil it half an hour, put it into your pots, when cold cover it with papers dipped in brandy

The New Experienced English Housekeeper (London, 1795) Sarah Martin.

Baked Gooseberry Pudding.

Stew gooseberries in a jar over a hot hearth, or in a saucepan of water, till they will pulp. Take a pint of the juice pressed through a coarse sieve, and beat it with three yolks and whites of eggs beaten and strained, one ounce and a half of butter; sweeten it well, and put a crust round the dish. A few crums of roll should be mixed with the above to give a little consistence, or four ounces of Naples biscuit.

Raspberries or currants may be used instead of gooseberries, and are equally good.

A New System of Domestic Cookery (London, 1824) by Maria Eliza Ketelby Rundell

Gooseberry Sauce.

Boil a pint of green gooseberries in sufficient water to cover them until they are tender. Then pass them through a colander or strainer; add ten grains of ginger and a few lumps of sugar, with a small piece of butter. Mix all together, and boil up.

The English Cookery Book: Uniting a Good Style with Economy

(London, 1859) by J.H.Walsh.

Gooseberry Wine of the Best Quality, resembling Champagne.

To each pint of full ripe gooseberries, mashed, add one pint of water, milk warm, in which has been dissolved one pound of single-refined sugar; stir the whole weel, and cover up the tub with a blanket, to preserve the heat generated by the fermentation of the ingredients: let them remain in this vessel 3 days, stirring them once or twice or thrice a day; strain off the liquor through a sieve, afterwards through a coarse linen cloth; put it into the cask; it will ferment without yeast. Let the cast be kept full with some of the liquor reserved for the purpose. It will ferment for 10 days, sometimes for 3 weeks; when ceased, and only a hissing noise remains, draw off 2 or 3 bottles, according to the strength you wish it to have, from every 20 pint cask, and fill up the cask with brandy or whiskey, but brandy is preferable. To make it very good, and that it may keep well, add as much Sherry, together with ¼ oz. of isinglass dissolved in water to make it quite liquid: stir the whole well. Bung the cask up, and surround the bung with clay; the closer it is bunged, the better; a fortnight after, if it be clear at top, taste it;  if not sweet enough, add more sugar: 22 lbs. is the just quantity in all for 20 pints of wine; leave the wine 6 months in the cask; but after being quite fine, the sooner it is bottled the more it will sparkle and resemble Champagne. The process s should be carried on in a place where the heat is between 48^o and 54^o Fahr. Currrant wine may be made in the same manner.

Mackenzie’s Ten Thousand Receipts (Philadelphia, 1865) by Colin MacKenzie.

Any cheese with that?

I have always loved cheese. I have recently come to respect, if not exactly love, the USDA Farmers’ Bulletins produced during the first decades of the twentieth century. You can guess by now I am going to combine this love and respect, and give you some worthy and interesting information.

USDA Farmers’ Bulletin Number 487, published in 1912 is on the topic of Cheese and its Economical Use in the Diet. The first almost-two-dozen pages extol the nutritional and economic virtues of cheese, and these are followed by a goodly recipe section – a little of which I want to share with you today.

Firstly, may I introduce (re-introduce?) you to the concept cheesy breakfast porridge:

Oatmeal with Cheese.

2 cupfuls of oatmeal.

1 cupful of grated cheese.

1 tablespoonful of butter.

1 level teaspoonful of salt.

Cook the oatmeal as usual. Shortly before serving, stir in the butter and add the cheese, and stir until the cheese is melted and thoroughly blended with the cereal. The cheese should be mild in flavor and soft in texture. The proportion of cheese used may be increased if a more pronounced cheese flavor is desired.

Secondly, I want to give you a dessert option, in case your protein requirements lean in that direction. In a post some time ago I gave you a recipe for CheeseGingerbread from 1918. I was pleased to see that Farmers’ Bulletin No. 487 contained two versions of this treat, and I was sorely tempted to also give you these too, but in the interests of variety, I chose this instead:

Brown Betty with Cheese.

Arrange in a deep earthenware dish, alternate layers of bread crumbs and thinly sliced apples. Season with cinnamon, also a little clove if desired, and brown sugar. Scatter some finely shaved mild full-cream cheese over the top and bake 30 to 45 minutes, placing the dish in a pan of water so that the pudding will not burn.

If preferred, this may be sweetened with molasses mixed with an equal amount of hot water and poured over the top, half a cupful of molasses being sufficient for a quart pudding dish full.

Cheese may be used in place of butter in a similar way in other apple puddings. Apple pie made with a layer of finely shaved cheese over the seasoned apple and baked in the usual way is liked by many who are fond of cheese served with apple pie.

I find that I cannot quite abandon the opportunity to mention gingerbread with cheese, so I give you the following idea, from another Farmers’ Bulletin published in July 1918, called Neufchâtel and Cream Cheese: Farm Manufacture and Use.

Gingerbread.

Make a gingerbread, reducing the quantity of sugar. When cold, cut in two and put in a layer of the following between the two halves:

2 cheeses or ⅔ cup [Neufchatel]

2 tablespoons chopped dates.

2 tablespoons of pecan nuts (chopped fine)

¼ tablespoon of salt [surely this means ¼ teaspoon?]

Rub to a paste.

Cakes for Valentine’s Day (1930’s).

I am keeping it sweet and simple today with some sweet and simple (and not so simple) cakes for Valentine’s Day, because nothing says love better than a cake. Or chocolate. Or champagne.

Gingerbread Hearts for Valentine’s Day.

To 1 lb. 1½ oz. flour allow 1 lb. 1½ oz. honey, 1 tablespoon baking powder, 2 tablespoons brandy or rum, ½ teaspoon each of cinnamon, cloves, and nutmeg, all finely ground to powder.

Heat the honey in a double boiler, but do not allow It to boil; add the flour and spirits. Mix to a smooth paste. Pour out on a pastry board, sprinkle the baking powder and the spices all over, and knead thoroughly on a floured board, then roll to half inch thickness. Have ready some heart shapes in cardboard, place on the dough, and cut out with a .sharp knife. Warm a baking tin slightly, grease it, and put in the hearts, pricking them here and there with a wooden toothpick to prevent bubbles forming. Bake slowly. When finished ice the hearts first with white icing, and then drop on little quantities of red icing, shaping them into small hearts. Or if liked, tiny red hearts may be cut out of paper and pasted on the white icing with white of egg.

Sunday Mail (Brisbane, Qld.) of 13 February 1938

Cupid Cake

Beat l oz. butter to a cream and add l oz. castor sugar. Beat the mixture until it is quite smooth and creamy. Beat together 1 oz. flour, a small ½ teaspoon baking powder and a pinch of salt, Separate the white from the yolk of an egg. Add the flour and beaten egg yolk alternately to the butter and sugar, then gradually stir in 1 tablespoon milk and the grated rind of ¼ lemon and ½  orange. Beat the egg yolk to a stiff froth, fold into the mixture and pour into a heart-shaped cake tin, which has been brushed with melted butter. Bake in a fairly hot oven for 15 minutes or until the cake is light and spongy. Leave still quite cold, then cut in two crosswise. Put halves together with a layer of jelly cut to the same shape. Cover cake with icing made by mixing icing sugar with orange and lemon juice, and when set decorate with an arrow made with sliver cachous. If no heart-shaped cake tin is available, make a heart-shape in cardboard and cut cake to shape.

Sunday Mail (Brisbane, Qld.) of 13 February 1938

Saint Valentine's Cake

This is something entirely new in cakes, and is suitable for a Valentine party or a birthday party which may happen to be on the same day, February 14. The decoration of pink hearts makes it very unique.

Take 7oz. castor, sugar,  ½ lb. sugar; 6oz. flour, 6oz. ground rice, 3 eggs; 2 teaspoons baking powder, vanilla flavoring, milk. Cream butter and sugar, stir in gradually all the dry ingredients sifted together; add well whisked eggs and a little milk, mix lightly, turn into a grease-lined tinand bake in a moderate oven till cooked.

For Almond Paste: 3oz. icing sugar, 2oz. ground almonds, 1 egg yolk, vanilla flavoring, cochineal. Sift icing sugar, and mix with the ground almonds; add a few drops of vanilla, and mix the sugar and almonds to a stiff paste with a little yolk of egg and water; lastly add sufficient cochineal to make the paste a deep pink shade; work it into a smooth lump, then roll it out, and cut into small hearts with a heart-shaped cutter.

To Make the Icing.-Take 1 lb. castor sugar, 1 gill hot water, 2 egg whites, vanilla flavoring, cochineal and a pinch of cream of tartar. Put the sugar and water in a saucepan, dissolve slowly and bring to the boil; add a good pinch of cream of tartar, and without stirring boil it to 240deg. F.(sugar boiler's thermometer), or until syrup forms a soft ball .when a small quantity is dropped in cold water. When ready pour gradually on to the slightly-whisked egg whites, keeping it well stirred; add a few drops of vanilla and color a pale pink with cochineal; stir until it thickens and begins to set then pour over the cake and coat evenly. Decorate the cake with the prepared hearts at intervals round it and place the bust of a doll in the centre. The doll should be of china, have a pink bodice to match the hearts, and can be purchased at any store, the cake has then the appearance of a dressed doll.

Sunday Times (Perth, WA) 10 February 1935.

‘Hearty’ Food for Valentine’s Day.

Some of you, perhaps many of you, are thinking about what to cook on Valentine’s Day in two days’ time. I don’t know what the food columnists in current newspapers and magazines are planning, but it was all hearts and flowers in the Los Angeles Times February 13, 1933 - with an aside to a jellied salad. I don’t “get” jellied salads, but some of you may do, so I have included this as well.

Heart’s Salad.

Use eighth-inch thick slices of calavo-avocado pear and of jellied cranberry.

 With a cookie cutter shape hearts from cranberry and calavo slices. Then using a much smaller vegetable cutter of heart shape, cut out centers in each slice, and interchange hearts. The small cut-out calavo and cranberry hearts may also serve as colorful appetisers on whole-wheat wafers.

Open Heart Sandwiches.

Toast bread on one side and cut with a small heart-shaped cutter. Spread untoasted side with sandwich spread and decorate with a small strip of pimiento. Chill and serve on a plate covered with heart-shaped paper doilies. Serve as an accompaniment to tomato juice.

Daisy Plate.

Like most foods, the better eggs look the better they taste. So here is a new way to serve them attractively:

One-fourth cupful uncooked rice (makes one cupful cooked rice) four eggs, scrambled or poached, salt and pepper.

On a large plate or on individual plates arrange five or six tablespoonsfuls of cooked rice in the shape of daisy petals. In the center place scrambled or poached egg to resemble the golden heart of the flower. this makes four generous servings.

Molded Valentine Salad.

Soak one and one-half tablespoonfuls plain gelatin in one-third cupful cold water fro ten minutes. Heat to the boiling point two cupfuls tomato juice, one onion sliced, one stalk celery, three sprigs parsly, two tablespoonfuls pure vinegar, four cloves, one-half teaspoonful salt and one-quarter teaspoonful pepper sauce. Strain and pour over gelatin, stirring until dissolved. Cool and add chopped clery, cabbage, and olive or any other desired vegetables, using about one-cupful of the vegetables. Pour into a pan, having it about three fourths inch thick. Cut with a heart cutter and serve in deep cuts of crisp lettuce, garnishing with sweet gherkins, celery curls, and mayonnaise salad dressing.

I am not sure who would cook these dishes, or for whom they are intended. They seem a bit trivial and girly. No oysters? No red-blooded steak? No chocolate? And I still don’t like jellied salads.

The Many Ways of Mush, Part II.

I was delighted to find, during my reading on ‘mush’ that there is a special kitchen tool for the purpose. According to Miss Leslie, the author of the cookery book quoted from yesterday, a mush-stick is “a round stick about half a yard long, flattened at the lower end, as, if not well stirred, the mush will be lumpy.”

I am pretty minimalist myself as far as kitchen implements go – a wooden spoon and a good knife manage most things, but nonetheless, I love the idea of a mush-stick as much as I love a good porridge spurtle.  I do own in fact own a spurtle, which I admit to never using (although I do regularly make porridge,) but I keep it because it has sentimental value. My spurtle is a rounded stick - it does not have a flattened end, as in the description of the mush-stick. The Oxford English Dictionary definition of a spurtle however is:

a.       A flat implement used for turning oatcakes.

b.      b. A wooden stick for stirring porridge, etc.; a potstick or ‘thivel’.

So, it seems that they are the same device after all. Is there a specially-named implement for stirring polenta, I wonder?

But I digress. The story today was intended to look at what can be done with extra or leftover mush. I made a serious omission yesterday in not giving you a recipe for the ‘original’ mush – that is, the sort made with cornmeal. And who more qualified to give us that than Miss Eliza Leslie?

Indian Mush.

Have ready on a clear fire a pot of boiling water. Stir into it, by degrees (a handful at a time, sufficient indian meal to make a very thick porridge, and then add a very small portion of salt, allowing not more than a level teaspoonful to a quart of meal. You must keep the pot boiling all the time you are stirring in the meal and between every handful stir hard with the mush-stick, (a round stick about half a yard long, flattened at the lower end,) as, if not well stirred, the mush will be lumpy. After it is sufficiently thick and smooth, keep it boiling an hour longer, stirring it occasionally. Then cover the pot closely, and hang it higher up the chimney, or set it on hot coals on the hearth, so as to simmer it slowly for another hour. The goodness and wholesomeness of mush depends greatly on its being long and thoroughly boiled. It should also be made very thick. If well made, and well cooked, it is wholesome and nutritious; but the contrary, if thin, and not sufficiently boiled. It is not too long to have it three or four hours over the fire, first boiling, then simmering. On the contrary, it will be better for it. The coarser the corn meal the less cooking it requires. Send it to table hot, and in a deep dish. Eat it with sweet milk, buttermilk, or cream, or with butter and sugar, or with butter and molasses; making a hole in the middle of your plate of mush, putting some butter into the hole, and then adding the sugar or molasses.

Miss Leslie's New Cookery Book (1857)

Now for some ideas that may prove that leftovers are better than the original.

Fried Mush.

Cut cold mush into squares, cubes, or oblong pieces a suitable size for serving, cover with flour and meal sifted together, dip in batter, roll in crumbs, fry in a basket in hot fat, until a rich brown color, drain on cheese-cloth, and serve in a napkin; or use to garnish broiled or fried chicken or fish.

The art of cookery, a manual for homes and schools (Indianapolis, 1899) by Emma Pike Ewing.

To Saute Mush.

Cut cold mush in slices a quarter of an inch thick, brown on a griddle well greased with clarified butter, and serve on a warm platter.

The art of cookery, a manual for homes and schools (Indianapolis, 1899) by Emma Pike Ewing.

Mush Muffins.

Make a quart of mush, put into it a lump of butter or lard, the size of two eggs, and a little salt; previously to making the mush, have ready a pint of light rising, stir into it a pintof new milk, and the mush, with as much wheat flour as will make it a very thick batter; let it rise four or five hours, and when light, set it in a cold place, till you are ready to bake; dip a spoon in water each time, and put the batter on the griddle in small cakes, or bake in rings. You may make it a little stiffer, and roll it out to bake in large cakes. If it should sour, put in a little salaeratus. If you have no milk, water will do instead. They will be nice toasted.

Domestic Cookery, Useful Receipts, and Hints to Young Housekeepers (1859) by Elizabeth E. Lea.

Mush Rolls, without Milk or Eggs.

When milk is scarce, (or for a change,) you can make good rolls with mush. Take a pint of corn meal, pour on it three pints of boiling water—stirring it as you pour; put in three ounces of lard, a tablespoonful of salt, and when milk warm, put in two table-spoonsful of yeast, then mix in wheat flour, and make it a soft dough; cover the pan close, set it in a warm place till it begins to rise; as soon as light, set it in a cold place; mould them out an hour before you bake them, and allow them to rise in the dripping-pan. It will do to bake in a large cake rolled out.

Domestic Cookery, Useful Receipts, and Hints to Young Housekeepers (1859) by Elizabeth E. Lea.

As a post-script, some long time ago I described Nine Things to do with Porridge too.

The Many Ways of Mush, Part I.

‘Mush’ is a bit of a mystery to me – me not being American an’ all. I know what it is, of course – it is cornmeal porridge, which has a rather good sound to it – a better sound, I think, than ‘mush’, which sounds like an accident. As you can tell, I became briefly fixated on this word ‘mush’, so had to dig into the Oxford English Dictionary for information. The OED says that it is ‘apparently an imitative alteration of mash’ which is not particularly mysterious after all, unless it leads you to wonder how the word came to be so universally applied to the American version of polenta, or oatmeal porridge, or frumenty. The OED agrees that ‘mush’ is:

“Chiefly N. Amer. Porridge; spec. porridge made with maize meal boiled in water or milk until thick. Freq. in mush and milk, mush and molasses.”

No good cooking concept stays unchanged, however, and in celebration of mush, may I give you two interesting adaptations of the basic cornmeal type?

Rye Mush.

To make smooth rye mush, sift a quart or more of rye meal into a pan, and gradually pour in sufficient cold water to make a very thick batter, stirring it hard with a spoon as you proceed, and carefully pressing out all the lumps against the side of the pan. Add a very little salt. The batter must be so thick at the last that you can scarcely stir it. Then thin it with a little more water, and see that it is quite smooth. Rye, and also wheat flour, have a disposition to be more lumpy than corn meal, when made into mush. When thoroughly mixed and stirred, put it into a pot, place it over the fire and boil it well, stirring it with a mush-stick till it comes to a hard boil; then place it in a diminished heat, and simmer it slowly till you want to dish it up. Eat it warm, with butter and- molasses, or with sweet milk, or fresh buttermilk. Rye mush is considered very wholesome, particularly in cases of dyspepsia.

Miss Leslie's New Cookery Book (Philadelphia, 1857) by Eliza Leslie.

Pumpkin Mush.

Pour into a clean pot, two quarts or more of good milk, and set it over the fire. Have ready some pumpkin stewed very soft and dry; mashed smooth, and pressed in a cullender till all the liquid has drained off. Then measure a large pint of the stewed pumpkin; mix with it a piece of fresh butter, and a tea spoonful of ground ginger. Stir it gradually into the milk, as soon as it has come to a boil. Add, by degrees, a large pint or more of indian-meal, a little at a time, stirring it in, very hard, with the mush-stick. If you find the mush too thin, as you proceed, add, in equal portions, more pumpkin and more indian-meal, till it becomes so thick you can scarcely stir it round. After it is all thoroughly mixed, and has boiled well, it will be greatly improved by diminishing the fire a little, or hanging the pot higher up, so as to let it simmer an hour or more. Mush can scarcely be cooked too much. Eat it warm with butter and molasses, or with rich milk. It is very good at luncheon in cold weather.

New Receipts for Cooking (Philadelphia,1854) by Eliza Leslie

Gipsy Sauce and the Rest.

Last week, in my story featuring quail, I included a recipe from Simpson's Cookery, Improved and Modernised by John Simpson (Cook), published in London in 1834.  The dish was for Quails au Gratin, and the final instruction was to serve them with Gipsey Sauce.  I intended to include the recipe for this sauce in the post, but it turned out, as you will see, to be rather long and involved. I also decided that the concept is worthy of a little further exploration.

First, the name of the sauce. Gipsey is quite clearly the author’s alternative spelling of gipsy or gypsy – a derogatory and now politically incorrect term for one of the Romani people. Dishes named for ‘gypsies’ were quite common in the nineteenth century, and they often incorporated implications of stolen game or eggs or suchlike, or foraged ingredients, or occasionally simple dishes cooked in one pan over a fire. An example that springs to mind is Gypsy Toast as one of the many alternative names for or French Toast or pain perdu. 

John Simpson also refers to his sauce as sauce à la Bohémienne, and he also suggests it for partridges, turkey, and neck of veal. Other cookery books of the time refer to a style of cooking or a sauce à la Zingara. The word zingara (or zingano) is derived from the Italian name for a ‘gypsy,’ and one or other form of this word (cinganes, singari etc) has been attested in English since the sixteenth century.

So, without further ado, here is Gipsey Sauce, à la John Simpson.

No. 71- Gipsey Sauce.

Sweat two ounces of truffles, chopped very fine, in a glass of Madeira or sherry, with half a bay-leaf and a little garlick; fill up with brown Italian sauce (No. 68). When it has sufficiently boiled, take out the garlick and bay-leaf, skim and pass it through the cullender spoon.

No. 68. Brown Italian Sauce.

Chop an eschalot, pass it in a stewpan with a spoonful of oil or a little butter, a clove, a blade of mace, a few pepper-corns, a little ham, and a small piece of bayleaf; when fried a little, add two table-spoonfuls of mushrooms chopped very fine, which pass also a few minutes: add two ragout spoonfuls of Spanish sauce (No. 63) and one of brown consomme (No. 5). Stir the whole over the fire till it boils; draw it to the corner and let it simmer fifteen or twenty minutes; skim it and strain through a cullender spoon.

No. 63. Spanish or Brown Sauce.

Add some brown consomme (No. 5), boiling, to some brown roux (No. 42) in a stewpan; do not mix them over the fire; let them be well mixed. Put it on a brisk fire, and add brown consomme till your sauce is of the consistency of melted butter: stir without intermission; let it boil; thin it sufficiently with consomme for all the scum and fat to rise; put it on the corner of the stove to clarify, with a few mushroom trimmings, truffles if you have them, a seasoned faggot (No. 16), a few green onions and pepper-corns, a blade of mace, a little allspice, and a piece of ham. When thoroughly cleared and skimmed, strain it through a tammy into a basin, stirring occasionally till cold. This is the basis of the greater part of the brown sauces.

No. 5. Blond de Veau, or Veal Gravy, or Brown Stock.

Lay slices of York ham on the bottom of a thick stewpan, buttered, on these some pieces of veal—the chump may be used: add enough stock to moisten the meat half-way up, and let it sweat over a brisk fire. Attend closely lest it burn, and when the moisture is reduced, pierce the meat to let all the gravy run from it; reduce the liquor to a glaze, and let it stew till brown. Put your pan on red-hot ashes, to prevent its burning; stir without ceasing, to colour your glaze uniformly throughout; turning your meat from time to time, that it may not stick to the pan. Moisten with hot broth when your glaze is sufficiently coloured; it will burn if it is sticking to the stewpan when placed on the fire. Season with mushrooms, parsley, and green onions. An hour and a half's boiling will suffice. Take off the fat, as in the preceding, and strain the gravy through a silk sieve.

No. 42. Brown Roux, or Thickening.

As above, observing that you use six table-spoonfuls of flour, as it must not be so thick. Make this on a rather stronger fire, and let it take a nut brown colour very gradually: be careful that it does not burn, for the slightest, catch would cause it to be speckled with dark spots, and embitter your sauces.

No. 41. White Roux, or Thickening.

Clarify four ounces of butter, with which mix about eight table-spoonfuls of flour in a stewpan, on a slow fire; stir it well with a wooden spoon till perfectly smooth. Be particularly careful that it is not deeper coloured than cream. Place it over a dead fire a quarter of an hour, stirring occasionally; you may use it directly if wanted, or it will keep, for which purpose put it in a pot. The above, when mixed with about five pints of stock, will be of the consistence of cream.

No. 16. Faggot.

Is a bunch of parsley (the size varies of course), a bayleaf, and a sprig of thyme, tied up closely. When any thing beyond this is required, it is specified in the article.

Are you exhausted yet?

Quails, Diverse Ways.

I love quail. I should clarify that at this moment, on this blog, I am referring to quail as food. I don’t believe I have featured them here before, so today I am going to remedy the omission.

‘Quail’, according to the Oxford English Dictionary includes ‘any of various small short-tailed game birds of the Old World subfamily Perdicinae (family Phasianidae), esp. of the genera Coturnix and Perdicula, which resemble tiny partridges and typically have brown camouflaged plumage; esp. the widespread and migratory C. coturnix, which has a distinctive liquid call.’  The OED continues “domestic quail usually belong to the species C. japonica, the Japanese quail, but this is indistinguishable from C. coturnix except by call, and is sometimes regarded as a subspecies of it.’

From a culinary point of view, the use of quail as a desirable dinner dish is attested from the late fourteenth century, but it has undoubtedly been enjoyed for much longer. Quails were likely often included in the ‘small birds’ mentioned in early feast descriptions, and many cookery books simply indicate that they be cooked in the same way as partridges.  

I give you a few choice recipes for this delicious little bird, from a range of cookery books from the late eighteenth through the nineteenth centuries.

Quails.

Pick and truss them like partridges, put them on a bird-spit, tie vine leaves over the breasts, and tie them on another spit, roast them for twenty minutes before a clear fire, and baste them with butter often; when they are done, put them in a dish, with fried breadcrumbs round them, and bread sauce and gravy in boats.

The English Art of Cookery (1798) by Richard Briggs.

Quails au Gratin.

Bone nine quails; cut a piece of bread in the form of a cork, about two inches and a half in diameter, and two inches and a half high; surround it with a very thin slice of bacon fat; place it in the middle of the dish; garnish this round with farce fine (No. 34), sloping off to the edge of the dish all round. Season the quails with a little herbaceous mixture,* fines herbes, and salt; nil them with farce, so as to give them their original plumpness; place these with the breasts outwards on the farce: put a little more farce on the birds, so as to leave the breasts bare only; cover these with a thin slice of fat bacon, and bake them in a sharp oven about three quarters of an hour: when done, take out the roll of bread, and, with a sponge, soak up all the fat; fill this well with a good brown Italian (No. 68), or scolloped truffles, in a gipsey sauce (No. 71) When served with truffles, an under fillet larded with truffles may be served between the birds; otherwise put a fried comb of bread or larded fillet. Glaze the breasts and serve.

Simpson's Cookery, Improved and Modernised (London, 1834) by John Simpson (Cook)

Cailles au chasseur.

Put the quails in a pan with six ounces of butter, some chopped parsley and shalots, salt and pepper; toss them repeatedly over the fire for five minutes; sprinkle upon them a table-spoonful of flour; toss again. Add half a tumbler of white Burgundy wine, and as much water or broth. Let the sauce thicken in boiling fast. When the quails are done, squeeze upon them half of the juice of a lemon.

Cookery for English households, by a French lady (1864)

Quails Cured in Oil.

Procure a sufficient number of fine, plump quails. Pluck them, draw them, clean them thoroughly, cut them open so that they will lie flat, as for broiling, and rub them over with salt. Let them lie in the salt, turning them every morning, for three days. Let them dry; and then pack them down close in a stone jar, covering each layer of quails tightly with fresh gathered vine leaves. Fill the jar with pure salad oil, and cover’ it securely with bladder, so as quite to exclude the air. When they are wanted, take them out and broil them. They make a delicious dish for breakfast.

The Godey's Lady's Book Receipts and Household Hints (Philadelphia, 1870.)

Quail Pie.

Lay the birds in a deep earthen dish, and season with pepper, salt, and a little butter; then dredge in flour. Nearly cover with cold water; cover with a paste, and bake one hour.

The Appledore Cook Book (Boston, 1872)

A Food Tale: Trinidad, 1840.

I love a good traveller’s food tale, as you well know, so I was delighted to come across one on the banana. Or was it the plantain? The story is told in Extracts from the Correspondence of Edward Otto, during his Voyage to Cuba and his Abode there, and it appeared in the Gardeners' Chronicle of America in 1842. In the extract below, the author is in Trinidad:

On the 19th of April I went with the family of M. Souchay to Tabureta, their country seat, among the Cusco hills. It is about six miles from Angerona, and is situated on the river St. Juan, in a valley between two high hills. The country is beautiful; and, after four days' incessant rain, Nature seemed to recover herself, and several trees and shrubs began to show their blossombuds. I find more plants for the herbarium; and I hope soon to be able to send some home alive, as, until now, bulbs and tubers were concealed in the ground. Amaryllis rutile*, bulbs of which I have already sent home, is seen all over this neighbourhood most splendidly in flower. I have eaten the fruit, when cooked, of Sechium edule** here, and thought it very good; it resembles our pumpkin, but is not quite so soft. Pisang is baked in the ashes, when in an unripe state, and is eaten with fresh butter; when ripe, it is cut in slices, and baked with butter. It is also used, when unripe, in broth, with meat; but I prefer it when ripe and sprinkled with sugar and eaten with a sweet sauce. Should I find any pisang on my return home, I should like to give a proof of my knowledge of cookery.

* Hippeastrum rutilum

** chayote, choko, mirliton, vegetable pear etc etc

The pisang of which the author was so enamoured is the plantain or the banana. I don’t think it is certain from the text which is indicated. Both the banana and plantain are members of the Musacaea family – the plantain being the more starchy, less sweet member which is always cooked before eating.

The banana/plantain has been cultivated for about 8,000 years, making it one of the oldest, if not the oldest domesticated fruit. As would be expected with a human food with such an ancient lineage, the details of its origin and early history are, to say the least, obscure and uncertain. It appears that it may have originated in South East Asia or the South Pacific. I understand that the spread of the banana plant around the world was characterised by introduction and re-introduction to various areas, so presumably establishing its cultivation was not a straightforward task.

The banana is a hugely important staple food in many parts of the world, but by virtue of its great perishability it was not until the late nineteenth century that faster transport and improved storage enabled it to become regularly available in the temperate parts of the world. This era of banana history has many stories, so I will perhaps cover some of them in later posts.

Today’s recipes are for plantain, and they are taken from Indian Domestic Economy and Receipt Book , printed in Madras in 1860 for the Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge.

Green plantain.

Roast four green plantains, and peel off their skin; grind up a spoonful of dhall, four dry red chillies, and fry in a little ghee; then grind the whole together, adding a little salt.

Plantain Pudding.

Take some plantains, and have them fried in their skins; which when done, you must peel and cut the fruit in slices; add sugar to the taste, the juice of two or three limes, the peel of one cut into small thin pieces, a glass of white wine, half a teaspoonful of cloves with a little butter; this is to be put into a paste, and boiled as an apple pudding. Cream or lemon and sugar with butter is a great improvement.

Flour without a Mill, and Bread without an Oven.

As many of you have probably realised by now, I do love potatoes in all their guises. I was on a word-hunt recently (I forget what word), and came across some mid-nineteenth century sentiments on this most adaptable vegetable. For some inexplicable reason, my thoughts turned immediately to potato salad - which in turn made me realise that I had no idea about the history of that dish. So, today I begin the search for the first known recipe for potato salad. I wonder should that include the first recipe which includes potato as a main ingredient even if it not be named ‘potato salad? And how many ingredients would negate the choice of ‘potato’ in the name?

Firstly, I give you the article that started this musing. It is from The New American Gardener, Containing Practical Directions on the Culture of Fruits and Vegetables, by Thomas Green Fessenden, published in 1842

Use.—The use of the potato, as an article of diet both for man and beast, is, probably, more extensive, and more common, than that of any other vegetable production. From having no peculiarity of taste, and consisting chiefly of starch, it approaches near to the qualities of the flour of grain; "and for this reason," says Loudon, "it is the most universally liked, and can be used longer in constant succession by the same individual without becoming unpalatable, than any other vegetable, the seeds of grasses excepted." Neill observes, "so generally is it relished, and so nutritious is it accounted, that, on many tables, it now appears almost every day in the year."

An Essay on the Solanum tuberosum, from the Philadelphia Journal of the Medical and Physical Sciences, gives the following summary view of the excellent qualities of this superlative root:-

"Having its origin in a warm climate, it was supposed to be intolerant of cold, and upon that account incapable of cultivation in a more northern clime. But experience has shown the contrary, and the potato is naturalized almost in every region. With the lower classes of people, it is one of the greatest blessings which the soil produces, forming 'flour without a mill, and bread without an oven,' and, at all seasons of the year, an agreeable, wholesome dish, without expensive condiments. What resources does the potato present to us? Its stalk, considered as a textile plant, furnishes in Austria a sort of flax—when burned, it yields much potash—its apples [i.e the “fruit”, meaning the potato itself], when ripe and crushed, ferment, and give spirits by distillation—its tubercles, made into a pulp, are a substitute for soap, in bleaching. Cooked by steam, the potato is a most healthy food. By different manipulations it furnishes two kinds of flour, a gruel and a parenchyma, which may be applied to increase the bulk of bread made from grain. Treated chymically, it is converted into beer, vinegar, spirits, &c."

So, by 1842, the potato - a New World food - was pretty well established in the Old World (after an unpromising start) as food for humans (the ‘poorer sort’ of human that is,) rather than for pigs.

I understand there is a reference to ‘potato salad’ in a public document from the State of Massachusetts in 1835, although I have yet to track it down. The earliest actual recipe with the name ‘potato salad’ I have found so far (I feel sure there are earlier ones) is in an English magazine from the same year as the article quoted from above -  The Gardener's Magazine and Register of Rural and Domestic Improvement (London, 1842.) It is a fine example of a ‘Continental’ salad recommended to English hosts and housekeepers, with an adaptation suitable for the poor cottager who may not have oil available, but would certainly have onions, and presumably also eggs. 

Potato Salad.

In your cottage gardening, when you are giving directions for the cooking and use of sundry vegetables, perhaps you might add a mode of making potato salad much used in some parts of the Continent, and which would not only be useful to the cottager, but is thought by many to be delicious eating, particularly with salmon, or fish in general, or indeed any thing else. The mixture of vinegar, oil, mustard, salt and hard egg is the same as for common salad, and according to taste: the potatoes are sliced when cold, with beet-root also sliced. The cottager may merely use the vinegar, salt, and mustard, and add sliced onions. (Camb.Chron. and Journ. April 2, 1842)

Mulligan Stew and Canned Willie.

I bet a few of my Australian and English readers blanched at my title today. But there is (or was) such a thing as ‘canned Willie,’ I assure you, but it is not what you probably think (thank goodness.)  The phrase is American military slang for canned corned beef, and is said to have first been used by the American Expeditionary Force in France in World War I.

Canned Willie is (or was) an occasional ingredient in ‘Mulligan stew’, which is another American invention. The first appearance in print that I have found to date of the concept of Mulligan stew occurred in 1898, in the Fresno (Calif.) Morning Republican. The context is again, military:

"Alvin Akers and Topsy Faber are in charge of the culinary department [of C Company] now and the tasty manner in which they get up a 'Mulligan' stew would tickle the palate of the most critical epicure.”

It can safely be assumed, I think, that a Mulligan stew was made from whatever was available to the cook of the day. To the WW I cook, what was available was canned corned beef, which for reasons known only to the soldiers of the time, was given the nick-name ‘canned Willie.’ An article in Collier’s Magazine in 1913 says that ‘the recipe calls for canned Willie, spuds, onions, canned tomatoes, all mixed up together.’

As for the name ‘Mulligan’ – it is probably a result of the irresistible urge of military men to create fanciful slang names for everything. The mixed up stew that was a mainstay of their diet was a parody of Irish Stew, and Mulligan is an Irish name, so came to refer to the dish by the same process that resulted in potatoes being called ‘Murphies’ at some point in time (memo to self to look into that.) Additional word-creep led to the word mulligan (without a capital) being extended to include ‘mulligan battery’ (the cook wagon) and ‘mulligan car’ (a railroad dining car.)

Now, for the recipe for the day, for the most critical epicures, amongst you, here is a recipe from The Stag Cook Book, Written for Men by Men (New York, 1922.) The recipe was provided by the writer Stewart Edward White.

Mulligan

This is a camp dish to be cooked over an open fire. I guarantee nothing on a stove. I know nothing about stoves, and have a dark suspicion of them. To make it: Place in a kettle half full of cold water either 9a) fish cut in chunks, (b) a couple of dozen clams, or (c) a half dozen chunks of venison about the size of a tennis ball, depending on whether you want a Fish Mulligan, a Clam Mulligan, or a Game Mulligan. Also depending on what you have. Also a half dozen peeled potatoes and three large onions. Salt and pepper, bring slowly to a boil. Add a handful of cubes of salt pork or bacon. Simmer slowly until the potatoes disintegrated. If you have the remains of a can of corn, or a little cold rice or anything of that nature, drop them in. Next put in all the stale bread or hard tack the traffic will bear. Dissolve a tablespoonful of flour in a little warm water, and stir that in for thickening. Cook slowly until you cant stand it any longer, and fly to it.

Lard, Lovely Lard.

A few years ago, on sites aimed at the food-intrigued, an image of an obviously jolly English family at the beach was circulated and re-posted and became almost famous. The slogan on the image said ‘They are Happy Because They Eat Lard’ and it purported to be a promotional poster from Britain’s World War II ‘Lard Information Council’. As I think is well known now, not only was the poster an amusing fake created by a British satirical magazine in the ’90s, there was never any such body as the Lard Information Council.

The truth was a surprise to me (as well as a disappointment, for the image was such fun) because, damn it, the British should have had a Lard Information Council.  Could anything sound more authentically British than a Lard Information Council?

Which brings me to the topic today, which is …… lard. There is no doubt that the best short pastry needs a percentage of lard, which is why it needs to recover its reputation. Even the best product has its dark side however, and the dark side of lard history is that once upon a time in the not so distant past, there were such manufactured products as ‘lard butter’ and ‘lard cheese.’

We do not need the Oxford English Dictionary to tell us that lard is ‘the fat of swine,’ but I for one was grateful to find that within this venerable resource was a pointer to a most appropriate recipe for the day. The word ‘lard’ is attested in English from the first half of the fifteenth century, and one of the earliest references is in a fascinating manuscript called the Liber Cue Cocorum. This manuscript was written in about 1430 (although the date quoted in the OED is 1475 – I am not sure why) and is a cookery book written in verse. It contains a recipe for a dish called Bucnade, which appears in other medieval manuscripts and appears to be a white stew of meat. The version in the Liber Cocorum uses ‘lard’ but other meats and onions appear in other recipes.

Bucnade.

Take almonde mylke as I con preche;
Coloure hit with safron as I þe teche;
Fors hit with poudur, þat is gode;
Take larde of porke, wele soþyn, by þo rode;
Hew hit in gobettes wele afyne;
Loke þey ben smale and put hem inne;
Lye hit with floure or amydone,
Boyle hit wele and sett hit done;
Florysshe hit with powdur, as I þe kenne,
Þenne may hit be served, before gode men

P.S. I gave a recipe for the traditional Northern English specialty of Lardy Cakes (or Fat Cakes) in a previous post.

http://theoldfoodie.blogspot.com/2006/05/fat-cake-for-queen.html