Friday, August 14, 2015

“Flavouring makes all the difference.”


Rationing in Britain continued for years after World War II ended in Europe in May 1945, and the Ministry of Food continued to churn out its advice to housewives, as it had done throughout the conflict. One of its main avenues was via the (approximately) weekly Food Facts leaflets. Leaflet number 278 was published in the first week of November, 1945, and was dedicated to helping relieve the monotony of everyday dishes by suggesting some simple flavouring additions.

Flavouring makes all the Difference.
Even everyday, taken for granted dishes can be made to taste different, and otherwise uninteresting food can be given a fillip, by clever choice of herbs and other flavourings. And because well-flavoured food creates appetite, you enjoy it more and digest it better. Try some of these suggestions and experiment yourself, too. You’ll get compliments on your cooking, and the family will get more good from their meals.
Soups.
Dried mint or thyme is good in potato soup. Try a pinch of dried marjoram or basil. Because it has a strong flavour, use the basil sparingly.
Stews.
Add a small piece of a clove of garlic or a pinch of dried basil, or a bay leaf. Don’t overdo these, as they are all strong flavourings. Paprika is good with meat stews, also 2 or 3 whole cloves or a pinch of ground cloves.
Salads.
Try rubbing a cut clove of garlic round the salad bowl before making your salad. Or mix in a little grated orange rind, or a little grated horseradish. Pickle vinegar adds flavour to salad dressings.
Sauces.
As an alternative to parsley sauce with fish, serve mustard sauce or a sharp sauce made by adding chopped pickles to any plain sauce recipe. Or add grated horseradish to white sauce and serve with fish, or bake the fish with sliced onions and nutmeg.

There was an additional recipe at the end of the leaflet:

Chocolate Sauce.
Ingredients: 2 level tablespoons flour, 1 level tablespoon cocoa, ½ pint milk and water, 1 level tablespoon sugar, few drops of vanilla essence.
Method: Mix the flour and cocoa to a smooth cream with a little of the milk and water and bring the remainder to the boil. Pour onto the blended mixture, return to the pan and bring to the boil, stirring all the time. Boil gently for 5 minutes, remove from the heat and stir in the sugar and essence. Serve with baked apples or stewed pears or apples, or with a steamed or baked pudding.


Thursday, August 13, 2015

Food in the Tube Shelters, London, WWII.


During World War II, many of the inhabitants of London were unable to escape the bombing raids by leaving the city, in many cases because they were essential workers. The underground railway (‘Tube’) stations became their night-time shelters, and early in the war the authorities realised the necessity for them to be fed. The following article, in The Times, of October 31, 1940 outlined a plan to deliver food to the ‘shelterers’ – a plan that offered paid work to the women who came forward to assist.

Delivery by Special Train.
The new organization of London Transport for providing food for people sheltering in Tube stations at night was begun with an experiment on a small scale at Holland Park Station on Tuesday night. Lord Woolton, Minister of Food, has emphasized the urgency of the matter, and arrangements are now well in hand. The Board has asked for women, who will be paid for their services, to deliver refreshments to the shelterers.
The women sought must have “tact, common sense, and the ability to act in an emergency,” there is no age limit, and it is hped that they will come forward in sufficient numbers to look after the needs of all the men, women, and children who take refuge each night in the 80 Tube stations.
Electric urns are to be used. Tea, coffee, and cocoa will be provided at 1d. a cup, with light refreshments, consisting of buns, biscuits, chocolate, apples, and sausage rolls, and the maximum charge for eatables will be 2d. Shelterers will have to provide their own crockery as it has been found impracticable to arrange for washing or storing the required articles.
The system of distribution has been adopted so that there shall not be numbers of people clamouring to be served. The women employed in serving will work from 6.30 to 9.30 p.m. and will be given sleeping quarters so that they may be available again in the morning from 5 to 7.
It is hoped that the urns and other equipment required will be delivered soon, and that the women helpers needed will respond to the appeal quickly. The food for the 100,000 persons who find quiet, as well as safety, in the underground stations, is to be delivered by a special train each day.

The Ministry of Food’s Food Facts leaflet Number 13, produced the week before the above story, included instructions for drying apples. Apples were expected to be in short supply later in 1940, as the leaflet explained, so there was an increased need to preserve whatever were available. And dried apples would surely have been good overnight Tube station snack material, would they not?

How to Dry Apples.
We may be short of apples later in the year – through bringing munitions instead of apples in the ships from Canada. So here is a way of preserving the present supply – it can be used for windfalls or blemished fruit. Wipe the apples, remove cores with a round corer and peel thinly. Cut out any blemishes. Slice into rings about ¼″ thick. Steep the rings for 10 minutes in water containing 1 ½ oz. salt to the gallon.

Thread the rings on sticks or spread on slatted trays or cake racks covered with muslin. Dry in a very cool oven (leaving the door open to let the steam escape) or over a hot cylinder on the rack of a stove, until they resemble chamois leather. The temperature should not exceed 120oF. At this heat the process usually takes about 4 hours. Turn once or twice during drying. Cool for 12 hours, then pack in paper bag, jars or tins, and store in a dry place.

Wednesday, August 12, 2015

How to use the Napkin and Finger Bowl.


I thought we needed a little light relief today after the weight of Monday’s viands and the solidity of Tuesday’s cold mutton, so today I am going to give you a short piece of nineteenth century advice on table manners. The article is admittedly tongue-in-cheek, but is nonetheless a reminder of points of etiquette about which we no longer need to trouble ourselves today. It seems to be accepted that a large percentage of the younger members of our community do not know how to use a knife and fork, so the advice on how to use the napkin and finger-bowl may appear quaint if not absolutely risible to some – but the pendulum may swing back eventually, so in case you are a little rusty on the techniques, here is some advice on what not to do!

From The Chicago Herald Cooking School: A Professional Cook's Book for Household Use (1883), by Jessup Whitehead:

Use of the Napkin and Finger-Bowl.
(Laramine Boomerang.)

It has been stated, and very truly too, that the law of the napkin is but vaguely understood. It may be said however, on the start, that custom and good breeding have uttered the decree that it is in exceedingly poor taste to put the napkin in the pocket and carry it away.
                  The rule of etiquette is becoming more and more thoroughly established, that the napkin should he left at the house of the host or hostess after dinner.
                  There has been a good deal of discussion, also upon the matter of folding the napkin after dinner, and whether it should be so disposed of or negligently tossed into the gravy boat. If however, it can be folded easily, and without attracting too much attention and prolonging the session for several hours, it should be so arranged, and placed beside the plate, where it may easily be found by the hostess, and returned to her neighbor from whom she borrowed it for the occasion. If however the lady of the house is not doing her own work, the napkin may be carefully jammed into a globular wad and fired under the table to convey the idea of utter recklessness and pampered abandon.
                  The use of the finger bowl is also a subject of much importance to the bon ton guest who gorges himself at the expense of his friends.
                  The custom of drinking out of the finger bowl though not entirely obsolete, has been limited to the extent that good breeding does not permit the guest to quaff the water from the finger-bowl unless he does so prior to using it as a finger-bowl.
                  Thus, it will be seen that social customs are slowly but surely cutting down and circumscribing the rights and privileges of the masses.
                  At the court of Eugenie the customs of the table were very rigid, and the most prominent guest of H. R. H. was liable to get the G. B. if he spread his napkin on his lap and cut his eggs in two with a carving knife. The custom was that the napkin should be hung on one knee, and the egg busted at the big end and scooped out with a spoon.
                  A prominent American at his table one day, in an unguarded moment shattered the shell of a soft boiled egg with his knife, and while prying it apart, both thumbs were erroneously jammed into the true inwardness of the fruit with so much momentum that juice took him in the eye, thus blinding him and maddening him to such a degree that he got up and threw the remains into the bosom of the hired man plenipotentiary, who stood near the table scratching his ear with the tray. As may readily be supposed, there was a painful interim, during which it was hard to tell for five or six minutes whether the prominent American or the hired man would come out on top, but at last the prominent American with the egg in his eye got the ear of the high priced hired man in among his back teeth, and the honor of our beloved flag was vindicated.

And in case you also need to brush up on the best method of boiling an egg so that the whites are tremulously gelatinous, here is the advice from the Hints for Housekeepers section of Arthur’s Home Magazine (1860):

How to Cook an Egg.

What a wretched thing is a badly cooked egg! Whether it be liquid as a lady’s tear, or as solid as a Somersetshire dumpling. If you want an egg well cooked, first try the plan recommended by correspondent of the Cottage Gardener, who remarks: “An egg should not be boiled, it should only be scalded, vulg. coddled. Immerse your egg in, or, which is better, pour upon your egg boiling water. For time: proportion your time to the size and number of your eggs, and the collateral incidents. If you cook your eggs upon your breakfast table, more time will be required. But if you station your apparatus on a good wholesome hob, where there is a fire, and so the radiation of heat is less positive, less time will suffice. The latter way is mine, winter and summer, and the differences of the surrounding circumstances equalize, or nearly so, the time. I keep one egg under water 9 minutes; two, 9 ½; three, 10; and four, nearly 11 minutes. The yolk first owns the power of the caloric, and will be even firmly set, while the white will be milky, or at most, tremulously gelatinous.

Tuesday, August 11, 2015

What to do with Cold Mutton (1865)


Cecil Rhodes, the English imperialist and mining magnate who became Prime Minister of the Cape Colony (South Africa/Namibia) in 1890, allegedly said, when asked why he left England “The real fact is that I could no longer stand their eternal cold mutton.”

I remembered this quote while I was musing on writing another post on leftovers. ‘Leftovers’ is a sad word for what is not necessarily a sad phenomenon – indeed, many of us, and I include myself in this – cook with the specific intent of having leftover food. There are other words and phrases for the same concept of course: but ‘scrap cookery’ sounds depressing, ‘secondary cookery’ does not sound first class, and although ‘camouflage cookery’ sounds fun, there is a deceitful edge to it. Then there is rĂ©chauffĂ© cookery’ which might sound posh, but is merely pretentious as it is simply French for ‘re-heated.’
The secret to success in re-purposing your leftover dinner is of course, to have good ingredients and a good dish in the first place. I came across an interesting concept the other day in What to do with the Cold Mutton: A Book of Réchauffés. Together with many other approved receipts for the kitchen of a gentleman of moderate income by P.K.S. (New York, 1865.)

As expected, the book includes many recipes for minced leftover mutton, mutton hash, and re-stewed mutton, but it goes one better too, and gives two ways of cooking the original mutton to resemble venison. So, go forth, my friends, and ‘venisonise’ that sheep haunch or loin!

No. 146.—HAUNCH OF MUTTON TO TASTE LIKE ROEBUCK.
Cut all the outer skin from the meat, which must then be well rubbed with the best olive oil; put it next into a flat pan containing a pint of vinegar, some thyme, parsley, sweet basil, three or four bay-leaves, four cloves of garlic, some whole pepper, three or four cloves, a little allspice, and a tea-spoonful of bay-salt. Place the meat so that the under surface may be in the vinegar, and cover the upper side with slices of onion; every morning turn the meat, putting the surface previously covered with onions into the vinegar, and placing the sliced onions on the side that was in vinegar the previous day. -When four days have elapsed, take the meat from the pan, wipe it dry, and hang it up till the following day, when it may be roasted for dinner exactly as venison is cooked.

No. 427 —LOIN OF MUTTON VENISONISED.

Bone a large loin of mutton, take the skin off from the fat, and put the bones and the mutton into a stewpan with an onion, a bit of thyme and parsley, a little whole pepper, and salt; add a pint of red wine, cover the stewpan close, set it over a very slow fire for three hours, then skim off the fat clear from the gravy, and send the mutton to table. Serve with it, in a sauce-tureen, a sweet sauce made with currant jelly melted in a little good gravy.

Sunday, August 09, 2015

A Weight of Viands: The Great Banquet of 1840.

On Monday, 13th of January 1840, a banquet of spectacular proportions was held in Manchester, England, by the Anti-Corn Law League. It was “one of the most prominent demonstrations of public feeling, and on the most extensive scale ever witnessed in this country, …. [and was held] in token of the hostility of the manufacturing community to the corn-law restrictions.”

The banquet was held in a purpose-built Pavilion in Peter-street, and it must have been an awe-inspiring sight. More than 3,300 officials and guests enjoyed the dinner and proceedings, with a further 1000 allowed to observe from a gallery. The gallery-guests were mostly ladies, who were not at that time allowed to attend public dinners, but were expected to show up in all their finery to be admired.

Local and national newspapers almost choked on the reporting opportunity. Many paragraphs were given over to the content of the various speeches, but the catering of the dinner itself provided a great deal of interest.  

The logistics of the food preparation were immense, of course, at a time before refrigeration (although this would have been less of an issue in January.)

…. The committee for this great dinner, consisting of only six gentlemen, undertook the Herculean labour of providing the supplies requisite for the thousands of guests to be assembled on this interesting occasion. …. Instead of the usual mode of contracting with some hotel-keeper to furnish the dinner at so much per head, the whole of the provisions were purchased by members of the committee themselves, and the requisite cookery was conducted under the management of able superintendents, in the kitchens and cellars of the building recently occupied as Bywater’s Hotel.

One incident almost marred the proceedings – the tradesman who had undertaken to supply the glass ‘relinquished the order after having had it for more than a week.’ Another manufacturer stepped in and “immediately commenced the manufacture of wine glasses to supply the immense and sudden demand”, thus saving the situation, and no doubt the sanity and reputations of the organisers.

The other aspect of great interest of course was the sheer size of the event. Slightly different details of the meal were provided by different newspapers, but all gave prominence to the massive quantity of food and tableware required. The Sheffield & Rotherham Independent of January 18, 1840 emphasized, as did most other papers, the total 'Weight of Dinner Viands.' 

The earthenware used consisted of 9928 pieces; the glass of 10,032 pieces; the knives and forks, supplied by Mr. Ibbotson, 8300 pairs; 648 mustard and salt spoons. The dinner viands, exclusive of condiments, dessert, 2477 bottles of wine, and a great quantity of other beverages, consisted of:

Roast and boiled meat  ………….….           2687 lbs.
78 hams                                          ……………..           1504 lbs.
200 tongues                                   ……………..           620 lbs.
2166 veal pies                                ……………..           688 lbs.
12 turkeys                                       ……….…….           120 lbs.
24 capons                                       ……………..           72 lbs.
500 mince pies, say                      ……………..           50 lbs.
Cheshire cheese                            …………….             200 lbs.
20 American barrels of dinner buns ……….           500 lbs.
600 loaves, of 6 lbs. each            ……………….          3600 lbs.
                                                                                                     -----------
Weight of dinner viands              ………………           10,041 lbs.                            

A few more details of the dessert were included by The Manchester Times and Gazette:

Sponge cakes                   100 lbs.
Wine biscuits                   80 canisters
Chests of Oranges          8
Barrels of Grapes            6
Boxes Muscatels             14
Ditto, Dates                      2
Barrels of Apples            9
Boxes of Almonds          2
Ditto, French plums       8
Pipes of Wine                  6

Another newspaper included 1200 Scotch sweet buns in the list. Yet another gave details of the 2477 bottles of wine: the breakdown was (approximately): port, 1000; sherry, 1300; hock, 60; champaign [sic], 19; claret, 24; red hermitage, 3. The catering supplies also apparently included 5 wt. of salt, 4 casks (18 lb.) mustard, and twenty shillings worth each of parsley and horseradish.

This would be an incredible organizational effort to pull off today. For the time, considering the lack of the technological advantages we have today, it was truly astounding.

Please enjoy some rich, sweet Scotch Bun from A New System of Domestic Cookery, by a Lady [Mrs. M.E. Rundell.] (1842)

A Rich Scotch Bun. – E.R.


To four pounds of flour (half a peck of Scotch), stone and cut two pounds of raisins, and clean two pounds of currants. Take six ounces of orange-peel, the same of citron, and of almonds, blanched and cut; mix all these together. Take one drachm of cloves, a large nutmeg, half an ounce of allspice, and the same of ginger, pound them, strew the spice on the fruit, and mix them very well. Make a hole in the flour, break in nearly a pound and a half of butter, pour warm water on the butter to soften it a little; then work the flour and butter together, spread the paste, and pour in half a pint of good yest [yeast]; work it up very well until the paste is light and smooth. Cut off about a third part of the paste for the sheets, spread out the rest of the paste on the table, put the fruit on it, pour about a gill of yest over the fruit and paste, and work the fruit and paste very well together. Then make it up round; roll out the sheet which was reserved in a circular form, lay the bun on the middle, and gather the sheet round it; roll it out to the desired thickness, run a fork through in different parts down to the bottom, and pinch it on the top. Flour double gray paper and put the bun upon it, give it a cut round the side, put a binder of double paper round it to keep it from running too thin in the oven. Bake in a moderate oven.

Friday, August 07, 2015

Fish Flour and Fish Bread.


I have a final (for the time being) interesting extract from The Chicago Herald Cooking School: A Professional Cook's Book for Household Use (1883, by Jessup Whitehead) as a jumping-off point for today. The intriguing, if a little frustrating (on account of the lack of attribution), section called Cook’s Scrap Book includes this short paragraph:

In Norway, where fish is prepared with much ingenuity in many ways, they make flour of the flesh of the fish ground to powder. It is used instead of rice and potatoes, and the biscuits made from it are said to be extremely nutritious.

The search for more information on fish ‘bread’ led me first to a book published in 1840 by R.G. Latham, ‘a Fellow of King’s College, Cambridge’, called Norway and the Norwegians (1840.) The author writes:

First catch your fish, then dry the flesh, then pound it to a fine flour, and with this fish-flour make a pudding. There are worse things in the world than a fish-pudding.

I may give you some more of M. Latham’s impressions of Norwegian cuisine next week, but today I will stick to fish flour and its uses.

The obvious source for information on nineteenth century views of some of the stranger (to the British) food habits of other cultures is the classic text The Animal Food Resources of Different Nations (1885) by Peter Lund Simmons. Simmonds even provides our recipe for the day, but if you want to make your own fish-flour biscuits at home, you may need to scale it down somewhat:

Several northern nations possess the art of preparing fish in a variety of ways unpractised in Europe, such as in the form of flour, bread, etc. Sir John Richardson mentions that a very good bread may be made from the roe of the pollack (Pollachius carbonarius) and of the methy, and this is used in the fur countries as tea bread. A kind of fish flour or powder is made from the stock-fish in Norway, which has a high nutritive value. It may, therefore, when compressed into the form of biscuits realise, under certain circumstances, the problem sought by armies in the fleld, of having the largest amount of nourishment in the smallest compass and least weight. There are at present two houses which make this fish-flour at the Lofoden Islands, but the manufacture is likely to extend. About 2,000 packages of fish flour (of 2 lbs. each) were made at the factory of Llyngvær, Norway, in 1876, and 2,424 packages in 1877. Crackers of fish-meal made by Mad. Rosing, Christiania, were shown at the Philadelphia Centennial Exhibition in 1876.


The biscuit is made in Norway out of this fish-flour in the following manner: — 500 grammes of the dry fish-flour are mixed with three litres of water, and 4 ½ pounds of oatmeal are added and all well kneaded. The paste is then rolled out and cut into squares and cakes. These are pierced with holes and dried in an oven, but not at a suffciently high temperature to cook or bake them. They should be turned several times while in the oven. From the experience of M. Rosing, Professor of Agricultural Chemistry at the Royal model farm at Aas, it results that these biscuits are very nutritious, being four times richer in albuminoid principles than beef, four and a half times than fresh cod, and six times richer than milk or rye bread. And it has also the advantage of being very rich in phosphates. The Siberians also bake bread with a meal formed by grinding down the dried remains of fish.

Thursday, August 06, 2015

Things to do with Dried Bananas.

There is a problem with bananas. Their shelf-life is perilously short, and there are only so many banana cakes, banana pancakes, banana puddings etc. that even the most enthusiastic banana-lover can consume in a week. The preservation of bananas therefore requires a concept shift towards banana products that have intrinsically good keeping qualities. I have previously written about some of the energetic efforts on the part of banana growers to popularise products such as ‘banana figs’ and banana flour (here, and here) but there is another method that provides some interesting and tasty opportunities. 

My story starts with one of the snippets in the Cook’s Scrap Book section of The Chicago Herald Cooking School: A Professional Cook's Book for Household Use (1883), by Jessup Whitehead.

London is eating dried bananas and declares they are delicious. They come from Jamaica, where the method has been patented. Fruit prepared twelve months ago retains its flavour to a remarkable degree. The banana is cut in half lengthwise and subjected to slow drying, which prevents fermentation and decay. It is thought that these dried bananas are to open up a new and important industry. They can be made into wine, eaten as they are, or cooked. – Ex.
    Dried bananas are common at the street venders’ fruit stands in Chicago.

This paragraph is not credited or dated, but the impression it gives that dried bananas were something of a novelty in 1883, as the following piece shows. From the American Institute Farmers’ Club, on April 20, 1852:-

The Secretary read the following translations and papers prepared by himself;

IMPORTATION OF DRIED BANANAS INTO ENGLAND.
[Revue Horticole, Paris, March, 1852.]
An interesting fact occurred at the late World's Fair of London, that is, dried bananas from Mexico—the observations of the distinguished botanist Lindley on the subject. In 1834 Colquhoun, of the Royal artillery, communicated to the Society of Arts of London many specimens of bananas gathered on the warm plains of Mexico, called Tierra Caliente, and dried for keeping. The cities of Jalisco and Mechoacan do quite a business in it. They gather the fruit when perfectly ripe and expose it to the sun on bamboo riddles. When they begin to wrinkle they peal [sic] them, and then, in a few days, the banana is dry. During the operation the bananas become covered with a sugary effervescence like the figs of the South when dried in the same way. The bananas are then baled or boxed up, either in their own leaves or something else. They are pressed into packages of about an hundred pounds weight. Thus prepared they are in the same condition as figs, dates, raisins of commerce. On account of their sugary character they keep a considerable length of time.

The specimen deposited in the Crystal Palace was a portion of that which was presented by Colonel Colquhoun in 1834, at which time the fruit was two years old. On examination by members of the Society of Arts, it was found to be of a proper consistence, neither too soft nor too dry, and a very agreeable peculiar taste, something between that of date and fig without any trace of acidity. They have no seeds and so become entire for consumption without any deduction. It was deposited in a Magazine of Woolwich, where it remained until taken out for the exhibition in the Crystal Palace; it is, therefore, now nineteen years old—an interesting circumstance testing its great durability. This old fruit was subject to the examination of the Horticultural Society of London, of the Society of Arts, Naturalists, and of merchants, and pronounced to be in the same state as in 1834, except being dryer. No acid—the same taste—no insect had touched them.

What dried fruit have we, says Dr. Lindley, that can compare with this! Our raisins, figs, and dates would be completely lost in so long a time as nineteen years; if not destroyed by time, they certainly would be by insects.

This remarkable fact raises, says Dr. Lindley, the very important question of extensive commerce in dried bananas. British Guiana, Jamaica, &c., can produce unlimited quantities. The amount of dried figs and raisins imported Into England in 1850, was nearly four millions pounds of figs, and nearly twenty-eight millions pounds of raisins. This shows how great may be the quantity of bananas.

No plant that is cultivated yields per acre any alimentary substance in such great quantity as banana. The potato is by no means equal to it. We will quote the learned men (savans) who have lived in or visited equatorial America—men whose knowledge and veracity are incontestable. "In New Grenada, savs Mr. Humboldt, "they raise about forty to fifty tons per acre. It is at any rate a very large crop, and can be grown in quantities equal to any named, and its remarkable durability vastly increases its commercial value, keeping good many years.

So – nineteen years old and still edible! It is not noted how the dried bananas were stored, but given the alternative methods of the time, it is also most surprising that they had not been attacked by insects or other notorious pantry predators.

The problem generated by the rapid perishability of the banana in an era before technological advances in such things as climate controlled storage and transport was accelerated in the face of a banana glut. As I mentioned in my previous posts on banana flour, for these reasons there was a great deal of interest in banana products in Queensland in the late nineteenth century by protagonists in the burgeoning banana industry. In The Queenslander (Brisbane, Qld) of 30 May 1891, there was the following piece of correspondence:

“We have received a sample of dried bananas prepared by Messrs. Reynolds and Co. Eden Valley, Daintree River. … Indeed they remind one somewhat of dried figs, and are said to be excellent, whether used without preparation as dessert, stewed like prunes, or cut to the size of raisins and and used in puddings.”

The same newspaper, in its edition of 4 July, 1891 included a wonderful feature on how to use dried bananas – which was no doubt particularly welcomed by housewives in the Far North faced with a backyard glut and the ability to dry their own bananas!

RECIPES FOR USING DRIED BANANAS.
(From the Queen of 23rd May.)
Bananas are now to be had as a dried fruit, not as an expensive luxury, but at a price considerably less than the fresh fruit. They have also an excellent flavour, for it should be remembered that foreign fruit purchased at home can never have the same rich taste as fruits fully ripened under a tropical sun; for all foreign fruit (bananas particularly), when gathered abroad for transportation, are picked unripe and green to outlive the voyage. These dried bananas make delicious puddings, panckes, fritters, and compotes, prepared in the following manner:—

Pudding (Baked). — Cut ½ lb. of dried bananas into thin slices, then place them in a stewpan that will just hold them with only enough water to cover them; add a little powdered cinnamon, ginger, and a small piece of lemon peel; stew over a slow fire till quite soft (about thirty minutes), then sweeten with fine white sugar and pass all through a hair sieve; add to it the yolks of four eggs and the white of one, 2oz. of fresh butter, the juice of one lemon, and beat all well together; line the inside of a pie dish with good puff paste, put in the mixture, and bake half an hour.

Pudding (Boiled) (Queensland recipe).— Take8oz. of dried bananas out in small pieces, 6oz. of fine breadcrumbs, 4oz. caster sugar, 4oz. of beef suet chopped fine, two eggs, and half a pint of milk; mix these ingredients, and beat them with a wooden spoon for ten minutes. Boil in a mould or basin for four hours, and serve plain or with sweet sauce.

Pancakes.—Cut sufficient dried bananas into small pieces, stew them with a little white wine, grated lemon peel and sugar to taste, and spread the mixture smoothly over pancakes; roll them up, and serve with sifted sugar.

Compote.—Prepare a thin syrup with half a pint of water and 6oz. of sugar, flavoured slightly with lemon, and stew the dried banana gently in this for about thirty minutes; remove the bananas when sufficiently done and lay them in a glass dish; strain and reduce the syrup, and then pour it over the bananas, which may be served either hot or cold. If the latter, garnish with a little stiff red currant jelly, laid on the bananas.


Cream.—Take ½ lb. of dried bananas, slice them in thin pieces, and then gently stew in a pint of good cream, with a little ginger; when tolerably thick, strain, add sugar to taste, and flavour with rosewater.

Wednesday, August 05, 2015

How They Cook in Cuba, Part 2 (1898.)


My search for a ‘Cuban’ recipe for yesterday’s post turned up an interesting piece in the Cambridge Tribune [Mass.] of September 10, 1898. The writer in this case appears to be a New Englander, and his or her (the author is not named) travel experiences were at the much more comfortable, more well-to-do end of the scale. The writer also has a quite different view of the use of garlic in Cuban cuisine at that time compared with the traveler quoted in yesterday’s post. As a bonus, the article includes several recipes, although one of them demonstrates the perils of copy-editing in the short going-to-press time of a daily newspaper.

HOW THEY COOK IN CUBA
Curious Details of their Menus — Coffee Growing Handy in the Courtyards
- A Rice Casserole.
The kitchens of the Cubans are always either in the courtyard back of the house or on the roof. Unlike the Irish, they never dream of making the kitchen a sitting or dining room. And unlike the Americans they do not cook three times a day. Twice a day the Cuban servant or housewife goes to her kitchen and does her cooking: at ten o'clock, to cook the breakfast which is served at eleven, and about six o'clock to cook the dinner which is served at eight. In the morning, at six or seven o'clock, coffee is served, though for this purpose the kitchen is not used. The coffee is cooked in a French coffee pot on the sideboard of the dining room. And as for coffee, nowhere in the world, Paris and the German cities Included, do they make such excellent Coffee as that made by the Cubans. They use the coffee grown on the island, and oftentimes the housewife picks the beans from a coffee-bed in her courtyard, just as we would pick green peas in our own gardens. Cuban coffee is very black and strong, but never muddy like the Turkish. The coffee bean is usually cheap, and plentiful, and the Cuban cook has learned that, to make good coffee and not brown water, he must not be sparing of the raw material. He never allows less than a full tea cup of ground coffee to a pint of water. At breakfast, at every place, stands a bottle of red Bordeaux or Catalonian wine which is drank as freely as water. The food is usually abundant and nourishing. After breakfast, and not with it, coffee is served. At breakfast they have the inevitable honey and fruit and eggs, this last being cooked in styles about the same as in the States. In addition, a favorite breakfast dish is a small tenderloin steak served with sliced fried potatoes, a most palatable dish, for which Dr. Erastus Wilson, one of the foremost physicians of Havana and an epicure, gave me the following recipe: "Have some small tenderloin steaks cut and well trimmed; broil them over a good quick fire for eight or ten minutes. Half an hour before broiling prepare some very fine sliced potatoes, wash and dry them well, season with salt and pepper and put in well buttered tartelette molds about the size of the steaks. Put some melted butter over the potatoes and cook them in a slow oven for about twenty-five or thirty- minutes. When cooked, turn from the mold on a warm dish and dress the broiled tenderloin steaks on top. Prepare a colbert sauce as follows: Melt two tablespoons of beef extract in a small saucepan: when hot, add by degrees a quarter of a pound of butter, so that you will get a nice light brown sauce, add a small pinch of red pepper, a teaspoonful of chopped parsley and the juice of half a lemon. Wash and slice a few fresh mushrooms: cook them in butter and add to the sauce. Pour all this over the small tenderloin steaks and potatoes and serve hot." This seems like a very elaborate recipe, and yet the Cubans have used it for so many years that, to them, it seems as simple as one of our own household recipes. Of course, in any part of the world and particularly in Cuba, where fresh beef is scarce, tenderloin steaks are only for the well-to-do. The poorer people do as little cooking as possible, living chiefly on the natural products of their rich soil. Any able-bodied man with n few square feet of land at his disposal, even in the cities, can raise enough for his family, at any time of the year. He can raise bananas, yams, tamarinds, Indian corn, pineapples, cocoa, oranges, coffee, plantains or any of the many delicious fruits or nutritious vegetables common to Cuba. The island has ninety different kinds of rice, which the natives cook in almost ninety different ways. In Cuba, rice grows in the water or it grows on dry land: some varieties come to maturity in three months, others not for four or six months. Besides the ordinary ways of cooking rice in puddings, curries and so on, the Cubans have a dish of their own, Rice Casserole. It is usually served as an entree. Its ingredients, sufficient to fill a moderate sized casserole, are a pound of rice, two pints of weak stock, two slices of fat ham, and one teaspoonful of salt. The casserole, when ready, is used, of course, as a border for ragouts, and fricassees. Translated from the Spanish, the Cuban recipe for this dish is: "After having washed the rice in water two or three times, drain it well and put it in a stew pan with the stock, ham, and salt; cover the pan and let the rice gradually swell over a slow fire occasionally stirring to prevent its sticking. When it is quite soft strain it, pick out the pieces of ham, and with the back of a large wooden spoon, mush the rice into perfectly smooth paste. Then well grease a mold and turn it upside down for a minute or two to drain, then put some rice all around the bottom and sides of it, place [text missing here] cover it with rice; press it in equally with the spoon, and let it cool. Then dip the mold into hot water, turn the casserole carefully on a dish, mark where the lid is to be formed on the top by making an incision with the point of a knife about an inch from the edge all around, and put it in a very hot oven. Brush it over with a little butter, and bake about half an hour, or rather longer. Then carefully remove the lid which will be formed by the incision having been made all around, remove the bread [not previously mentioned in the ingredients – presumably is intended to maintain the hollow in the middle of the rice mould] in small pieces with the point of a knife, being careful not to injure the casserole. Fill the centre with the ragout or fricassee, which should be made thick; put on the cover, glaze it, place it in the oven to set the glaze. Serve as hot as possible. With Cubans, the favorite birds are geese, turkeys, peacocks and pigeons, Peacocks, of course, are served only at the best hotels and in the houses  of the rich. But goose is an ordinary dish, just as chicken is ordinary in New England. The Cuban rule, in cooking a goose, is: "Split the goose down the back, beat it well, cook it with a little onion, chopped fine and partly cooked, a glass of Sauterne boiled down with thyme and bay leaf. Moisten with melted butter and season well. Cover the goose with a thick layer of bread crumbs, Let it brown, basting frequently, Put in melted butter and some mushrooms; add to the goose and let all simmer." The Cubans also have a way of cooking pigeons that might well be copied in this country. Here is their favorite way of cooking the delicious birds which are so plentiful there: "Dry, pluck, singe and divide six pigeons in halves. Season with cayenne and lemon juice and a sprinkle of salt, und set them aside until wanted. Next, slice up an onion and fry it in butter to a light brown, throw in a tablespoon of flour, some chopped parsley, a little garlic on the point of a knife, a little grated nutmeg, and half a pint of white wine: stir the whole over the fire to boil about ten minutes. A pudding dish should be lined with a thin crust of suet paste, the pigeon and sauce put in and the whole covered with paste: steam for an hour and a half and turn out carefully." There seems to be a prevailing idea among Americans that Cuban cooks use a great deal of garlic. Of course, garlic is not entirely a foreign matter in Cuban food, but still it is not used so universally as Americans suppose. During all my stay in Cuba, eating here and there in hotels and private houses, good, bad and fair, I did not once notice the presence of garlic. And as for grease, the Cubans use it, in cooking, only when absolutely necessary. At any farm kitchen in the New England or Middle States I have had to eat a great deal more grease than at any of the haciendas in Cuba. As a rule. Cubans do not like to cook, but they usually cook intelligently. They always boil their milk. You seldom find a Cuban drinking milk "raw." The reason for this is their fear of drinking anything, even water, that has been or is exposed to air loaded with elements of contagion. With all their dislike of cooking, the Cubans can never be accused of a want of variety in the preparation of vegetables, game, meats or desserts. On the menu card of my last dinner at the Inglaterra Hotel in Havana, that card being now before me, I find that the hotel cook, who was neither a Frenchman nor a Spaniard, but just a plain Cuban, had prepared ten different soup's, fish in twelve different forms, seven side-dishes, twelve kinds of relishes, a choice of nine entries, five boiled meats and ten roasts, eleven different cooked vegetables, nine salads, and twelve kinds of dessert. The Cubans are adepts in pastry, but they never make pies. In making puddings and cakes for dessert they use principally oranges, bananas, figs and lemons. The most homely dessert, and the favorite with Cuban housewives, is something like our custard, only a great deal sweeter and, I am bound to say, more tasty, and more substantial. The Cubans call this dessert "flam.” As I have said, it is made like our custard or our cornstarch, only it is flavored with just the right quantity of lemon, or orange, or banana, and, last, with a dash of red or white wine. Everybody in Cuba from the captain-general in his palace to the negro scullery maid in the kitchen eats "flam" for dinner and "monte  cardo" (ice cream) before going to bed. The ice cream, by the way, is sent in from pastry shops in the evening, just as the bread rolls are sent in every morning for breakfast.


Tuesday, August 04, 2015

A Traveller’s Food Tale: Cuba, 1853.


Tourists are quite commonly heard to complain about the food (and other circumstances) of their holiday location on the grounds that it is not the same, and certainly not as good, as at is at home.  It is not rare to hear comments from such tourists that the food is ‘too foreign’ or too awful, or even outright offensive in some way. The popularity of generic fast-food outlets at many quite distant outposts of the globe is testament to this desire for tourists to eat like they do at home while they are abroad.

This sort of food bigotry is not a new phenomenon, of course. I have given many historical food-travel stories on this blog in the past, and I have another one for you to consider today. I don’t believe I have given the view of an American traveller to Cuba in the mid-nineteenth century previously, so today, courtesy of Harper's New Monthly Magazine (January 1853) is part of an article entitled Three Weeks in Cuba, written by “an Artist.” Clearly, the food and accommodation he experienced were included amongst the “extortions and vexations to which strangers are subjected in Cuba.”

… At Guanajay I mounted a horse, and accompanied by a single arriero with a pack mule, departed for that portion of the island lying beween Mariel and Mangus, where the northern and southern shores of Cuba approach nearest each other. …. The taverns by the way-side afford very little attraction to the stranger, traversing the country for the first time. The bill of fare is exceedingly simple and brief, and almost every dish of prepared food is highly flavored with offensive garlic. The traveler may resort to a meal of bananas, rice, and eggs, if they can be procured, until his taste becomes acclimated, which happy state is soon attained under the severe regimen of hunger and a keen appetite, and garlic loses a degree of its offensiveness to palate and nostrils. Sometimes the traveler may be favored with jerked-beef and codfish, and even with milk and chickens. These, however, are reckoned among rarities, and the tavern is a comfortable place only for the arrieros (pack-mule drivers) and the carreteros, the drivers of heavy carts used in conveying the produce of estates to market. The traveler finds comfort neither at table nor in bed, for the musical musquito and the crafty flea vie with each other in their attentions to a stranger during the night.

I wondered if my choice of topic today had created a problem in finding a recipe to fit the theme, but luckily, The White House Cook Book (1887) came to the rescue with the following:

Codfish on Toast. (Cuban Style.)
Take a teacupful of freshened codfish picked up fine. Fry a sliced onion in a tablespoonful of butter; when it has turned a light brown, put in the fish with water enough to cover it; add half a can of tomatoes, or half a dozen of fresh ones. Cook all nearly an hour, seasoning with a little pepper. Serve on slices of dipped toast, hot. Very fine.
Plain creamed codfish is very nice turned over dipped toast.

Cuban Pudding.
Crumble a pound of sponge cakes, an equal quantity, or less if preferred, of cocoanut, grated in a basin. Pour over two pints of rich cream previously sweetened with a quarter of a pound of loaf sugar and brought to the boiling point. Cover the basin and when the cream is soaked up stir in it eight well-beaten eggs. Butter a mold, arrange four or five ounces of preserved ginger around it, pour in the pudding carefully and tie it down with a cloth. Steam or boil slowly for an hour and a half; serve with the syrup from the ginger, which should be warmed and poured over the pudding.

P.S. More on the nineteenth century American view of Cuban cookery tomorrow.


Monday, August 03, 2015

Not-Bacon and Other-Bacon (and Ham).


A few years ago I posted a story about a brunch organised by the English smallgoods company, T. Wall and Sons at the Savoy Hotel in London, to promote their new product. This was called Macon - pronounced with a hard ‘c’ to indicate that this was ‘bacon’ made from mutton.

Mutton bacon may have been a new product for T.Wall and Sons, but it was hardly a new concept. Instructions on how to prepare sheep like pig suddenly appear in great numbers in cookery books from about 1730 onwards - but the practice is likely to already have been well established for a very long time before this. Curing the back (bacon) or leg (ham) of a sheep is a pretty obvious alternative to performing the same process to pork, because the sizes of the animals are not too dissimilar, and it is hard not to believe that sheep farmers pining for a bit of bacon did not think of the idea before the seventeenth or early eighteenth century. But making such assumptions is not the true way of the historian, so I will put the investigation of the history of mutton ham on my (very large) pile of pending projects!

For some reason, in the aforementioned post, I did not give the instructions for making mutton ham or bacon, so before I look at other cured pork alternatives, here is the advice given by Charles Carter in his book, The Compleat City and Country Cook (London, 1732):

For Legs of Mutton Ham Fashion.
You must have Hind-Quarters very large, and cut Jigget Fashion, that is a Piece of the Loin with it; then rub it all over first with Bay Salt, and let it lie one Day ; then put it into the same Pickle above-mentioned, and in seven Days it will be red through; then hang it up by the Handle, and Smoke-dry it with Deal Dust and Shavings, making a great Smother under it, and in five Days it will be ready; you may boil it with Greens, and it will cut as red as a Cherry; so serve it Ham Fashion.

There is no shortage of mutton-ham recipes in old Australian newspapers – after all, the country was ‘built on the sheeps’ back.’  The Australian Town and Country Journal (Sydney, NSW) of 26 November, 1898 gave the following instructions:

Mutton Ham.
A mutton ham, if properly cured, makes a nice breakfast dish either boiled or broiled, but I recommend the latter method of cooking, treating the meat as would be done in the case of a bacon ham. Choose the small leg from a freshly-killed sheep. Then mix a pound of dry salt, an ounce of bay salt, half an ounce of saltpetre, and two ounces of coarse brown sugar. Make these ingredients hot in the oven, then rub the leg most thoroughly all over; it should lie for a week, but must every day be most carefully rubbed with the hand, and turned on each occasion. At the end of the week, mix half a teacup of good vinegar, and a teaspoonful of black pepper; put this into the pickle, and rub and turn every day for another seven days. Then drain off the brine, wipe the meat dry, and hang up in a place free from damp to dry- When a month has elapsed the ham will be fit for eating, and found most delicious; but on the careful rubbing and turning does its excellence entirely depend.

And the following version, from The Land (Sydney, NSW)of 6 December 1946 ups the ante by ‘corning’ (curing in brine) a leg of lamb, and then cooking it with a piece of bacon – presumably to improve the flavour and further enhance the deceit.

Mock Ham
Ingredients: 1 leg lamb corned, 1 piece boiling bacon, 1 or 2 lb., few onions, cloves, herbs, 1 tablespoon vinegar.
Method: Weigh joint and bacon and reckon time of cooking, 20 min. for lamb and 20 min. over per lb. and 25 min. for bacon, put all into tepid water, bring to boil and boil gently until tender, remove bacon as soon as tender, remove the joint, take out bone in the pocket where bone came from stuff [with] bacon, then press between two dishes with heavy weights on top, keep in cool place until cold. This is delicious served with slices of cold chicken.

If no sheep, then what? I have an interesting, but rather awful and now entirely unlawful, idea from the past for you today:

Badger Bacon.
When nicely saved and smoked there is nothing more delicious, and it imparts to cabbage or greens boiled with it a rich and tender flavour. The flitches and cheeks are the best parts, and pepper and sugar should be used more freely than salt or saltpetre. A nicely roasted tender hare, with a bit of this bacon, is good. The hare should be stuffed with a pudding of bread and oysters, a little thyme, pepper, salt, parsley, &c if basted with the juice of the oysters, and a little butter mixed through it, it is most delicious.
The country house, a collection of useful information and recipes, ed. by I.E.B.C. (1866)
There is another rather awful, but competely lawful, type of not-real-bacon of course. It is the vegetarian version - which may very well be tasty in its own right, but in which I fail to find any connection to the taste or texture of the real thing. As my final offering, I give you the following example, which would be perfectly fine, I am sure, if it were named Bean and Nut Loaf.

Mock Ham
I quart kidney beans                  ½ pint almonds
½ pint English walnuts              1 can pimientos
½ pint black walnuts                 1 tablespoonful salt
½ pint pecans                               1 saltspoonful black pepper
Soak the beans over night; next morning drain, cover with fresh boiling water, boil twenty minutes; drain, throw the water away, cover again with fresh water, and boil until tender; press through a colander. Chop the nuts and pimientos. Add them, with all the other ingredients, to the beans. Form into a small ham and place on a greased paper; brush with melted butter; bake in a moderate oven one hour. When done, take out the ham, brush it again with butter, dust it thickly with breadcrumbs and brown. Serve this cold, cut into thin slices.

Mrs Rorer’s Vegetable Cookery and Meat Substitutes (Philadelphia, 1909)