I am tempted by a good liqueur or two this week, and I am going to start with Chartreuse. The name of this yellow/green liqueur name tells its origins very simply, for it is said to have been developed in the Maison Chartreuse – the monastery of the Carthusian monks - in Grenoble, France. Orders of monks have been responsible for many classic liqueurs because many of them began as distillations of medicinal herbs – and herb gardens and medicine preparation was an important function of religious orders in medieval times. It is said that the Carthusian monks of Grenoble have been making this liqueur since the 1740’s – but I suspect that they had in fact been making it for a very long time, but the ‘branding’ and commercial marketing dates from this era. So many stories to research, and so little research time…..
What I have been unable to fathom is the connection between religious orders and the ‘other’ chartreuse, which the Oxford English Dictionary gives as ‘an ornamental dish of meat or vegetables cooked in a mould’, and also ‘fruits enclosed in blancmange or jelly.’
The first citation given for this meaning of chartreuse in English is from John Simpson’s A Complete System of Cookery (1806). It is for a Chartreuse of Roots and Sausages, which I was going to make the recipe for the day, until I realised that in the past we have had recipes for Chartreuse of Mutton and Chartreuse, or Casserole, of Fish. Instead, I give you Chartreuse of Apples and Fruit, from The French Cook, (1822) by Louis Eustache Ude, because we should have a recipe from a Frenchman – and he explains the method in detail, which is useful.
Chartreuse of Apples and Fruit.
A Chartreuse is the same thing as a suédoise, only instead of raising the fruit with the hand over the marmalade, you oil a mould of the same size as the dish you intend to use, and arrange symmetrically fruit of different colours, such as angelica, preserved oranges, lemons, &c. in short, whatever may offer a variety of colours. Apples and pears are in more general use for the outside, but then they must be dyed as directed above, No. 3*. When you have decorated the middle or bottom, proceed to decorate the sides. Next use some thick marmalade of apples to consolidate the decorations. When you have made a wall sufficiently strong that you may turn the Chartreuse upside down, take the whitest apple jelly you can procure, some stewed pears cut into slices the size of a half-crown piece, and some cherries, &c. and mix the whole with the jelly, so as to represent a Macedoine. Do not fill the cavity too full with the miroton, as you are to close it with apple-marmalade that has more substance in it. Then turn over the Chartreuse and dish it. Glaze the fruit over with some thick syrup. This syrup gives additional lustre to the colours, and a fresh gloss to the fruit.
* To dye them you need only dilute with syrup a little carmine or saffron; and give them a boil. Next let the apples cool in the syrup, that the colour may be spread equally over them.
Quotation for the Day.
Candy is dandy, but liquor is quicker.
Ogden Nash
Showing posts with label sweet things. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sweet things. Show all posts
Monday, March 07, 2011
Tuesday, January 04, 2011
Desserts, Part 2.
I am at the beach having fun with the family, so you will, I am sure, excuse the short posts. I don’t want to leave the dessert theme of yesterday’s story - and perhaps may stay with it all week – so if you have a pudding phobia, please return in a few days.
I am often intrigued by what a particular country considers characteristic of another in the culinary sphere – an impression or opinion which may bear little relation to reality, but nevertheless influences the naming of dishes. Perhaps I can find something to illustrate my point in International dessert and pastry specialties of the world famous chefs, United States, Canada, Europe (Los Angeles, 1913) ?
First, a generic recipe for biscuit paste:
Biscuit Paste.
Beat ten eggs firm and smooth and add gradually one pound of sifted powdered sugar; grate peel of one lemon and beat the mixture very hard. Then take one-half pound of potato flour or fine wheat flour and stir it in lightly and slowly. It must be baked immediately. Have a very thin tin ready to bake. No other cakes require so much care in baking; have the oven even and very hot top and bottom; sprinkle with grated loaf sugar before putting in the oven.
Now, for the distinctive fillings. Can someone please hazard a guess as to what suggests ‘Siam’, Bohemia, or Marseille in the following fillings?
Le Siamois.
Two pomponet shells filled with cream.
Bohemienne Caracas.
Two shells, oval shaped, made of Berlin paste filled with cream of chestnuts with maraschino.
La Marseillaise.
Made of chocolat biscuit filled with chocolate cream of butter; decorated with half an almond.
I am often intrigued by what a particular country considers characteristic of another in the culinary sphere – an impression or opinion which may bear little relation to reality, but nevertheless influences the naming of dishes. Perhaps I can find something to illustrate my point in International dessert and pastry specialties of the world famous chefs, United States, Canada, Europe (Los Angeles, 1913) ?
First, a generic recipe for biscuit paste:
Biscuit Paste.
Beat ten eggs firm and smooth and add gradually one pound of sifted powdered sugar; grate peel of one lemon and beat the mixture very hard. Then take one-half pound of potato flour or fine wheat flour and stir it in lightly and slowly. It must be baked immediately. Have a very thin tin ready to bake. No other cakes require so much care in baking; have the oven even and very hot top and bottom; sprinkle with grated loaf sugar before putting in the oven.
Now, for the distinctive fillings. Can someone please hazard a guess as to what suggests ‘Siam’, Bohemia, or Marseille in the following fillings?
Le Siamois.
Two pomponet shells filled with cream.
Bohemienne Caracas.
Two shells, oval shaped, made of Berlin paste filled with cream of chestnuts with maraschino.
La Marseillaise.
Made of chocolat biscuit filled with chocolate cream of butter; decorated with half an almond.
Monday, January 03, 2011
Just Dessert.
I often get queries when I give menus from the seventeenth century which seem impossibly exhaustive in the first place, and then appear to be followed by another ‘banquet.’ Originally the word ‘banquet’ referred specifically to the dishes served at the end of a feast (which was an entertainment as much as a meal.) The banquet was often taken in a separate room – or sometimes even a ‘banquetting house’ set in the grounds of an aristocratic estate – while the servants cleared the tables in the main feasting hall. In medieval times this consisted of sweetened wine and wafers, but as time went on more and more elaborate sweetmeats and fruits were included.
Early in the seventeenth century a final ‘course’ of predominantly sweet dishes became called the ‘dessert’. The word is derived from the French desservir, meaning to de-serve, that is, to clear the dishes from the table. The notion of ‘dessert’ as a separate course was seen initially by some in England as a French affectation which was bad for the health. Eventually however, popular appeal over-rode nationalism and medical opinion, and ‘dessert’ became an established and essential part of the meal, confectionary became a new career, and dentistry was no doubt also given a boost.
For the Recipe for the Day I give you the entry for this day, January 3, from 365 desserts; a dessert for every day in the year by Harriet Schuyler Nelson (Philadelphia, 1900)
Cocoanut Sponge.
Thicken 1 pint of milk, in which is dissolved ¾ cup of sugar, with 2 tablespoonfuls of cornstarch. Cook thoroughly in a vessel set into boiling water. When cooked and boiling hot, beat this into the whites of 3 eggs beaten stiff. After standing a few minutes add 1 cup of grated cocoanut. Flavor with vanilla and turn into a mould with grated cocoanut on top. Serve with cream sweetened and flavored with wine.
Quotation for the Day.
The dessert, properly prepared, contributes equally to health and comfort; but 'got up' as confectionary too often is, it is not only distasteful to a correct palate, but is deleterious and often actually poisonous.
The Complete Confectioner, Pastry-Cook, and Baker (1864)
Early in the seventeenth century a final ‘course’ of predominantly sweet dishes became called the ‘dessert’. The word is derived from the French desservir, meaning to de-serve, that is, to clear the dishes from the table. The notion of ‘dessert’ as a separate course was seen initially by some in England as a French affectation which was bad for the health. Eventually however, popular appeal over-rode nationalism and medical opinion, and ‘dessert’ became an established and essential part of the meal, confectionary became a new career, and dentistry was no doubt also given a boost.
For the Recipe for the Day I give you the entry for this day, January 3, from 365 desserts; a dessert for every day in the year by Harriet Schuyler Nelson (Philadelphia, 1900)
Cocoanut Sponge.
Thicken 1 pint of milk, in which is dissolved ¾ cup of sugar, with 2 tablespoonfuls of cornstarch. Cook thoroughly in a vessel set into boiling water. When cooked and boiling hot, beat this into the whites of 3 eggs beaten stiff. After standing a few minutes add 1 cup of grated cocoanut. Flavor with vanilla and turn into a mould with grated cocoanut on top. Serve with cream sweetened and flavored with wine.
Quotation for the Day.
The dessert, properly prepared, contributes equally to health and comfort; but 'got up' as confectionary too often is, it is not only distasteful to a correct palate, but is deleterious and often actually poisonous.
The Complete Confectioner, Pastry-Cook, and Baker (1864)
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Poetical Christmas Recipes, Part 1.
A short, commentary-free post today, folks – I have Christmas preparation to do myself, don’t you know? And my pantry is still disorganised after the house move.
From Rhymed Receipts for Any Occasion , Imogen Clark (Boston, 1912), I give you these two poetry gems.
Christmas Charlotte Russe.
We’ll keep our Christmas merry still.
– Walter Scott.
Whip up a pint of well chilled cream
Till it’s a fairy fluff,
Then powdered sugarfold within,
Your taste is guide enough.
Add tablespoon of gelatine
Dissolved in water cold
(The cup should be but quarter full,
And drop by drop it’s told).
Next candied cherries, chopped in bits,
Ruddy and gleaming bright,
From a big cup are turned upon
The mass of snowy white.
Serve this within a sponge-cake shell,
The dish all wreathed about
With holly leaves, between whose green
Red berries twinkle out.
[Charlotte Russe was discussed in a previous post here.]
“Bethlehems”
They are ever forward in celebration of this day.
— Henry VIII.
Of all the cakes that come for Christmas Day
The little Bethlehems must lead the way,
So simple, too, to make, as you will see
If you will read this rhyme attentively.
First butter take, about a fourth of cup,
Then sugar - brim but once same measure up.
Cream these together till they're smooth as silk,
And add straightway half-cup of sweetest milk.
Next sift one cup - and half one more - of flour
Into the bowl - a sudden fairy shower! –
With two teaspoons of baking-powder white,
Now beat - and beat again - till all is light;
Then in the mixture fold with careful hand
Whites of two eggs, whipped so they stiffly stand,
And, last of all, a dash of flav'ring sweet.
Rose, or vanilla, and the whole's complete.
Put in star pans, but give each room to grow,
And bake in oven, neither quick, nor slow;
Then, when the little shapes have grown quite cold,
Wrap them in softest frosting smoothly rolled;
Let some the red of holly berries wear,
While others don a snowy mantle fair,
But white, or red, this do they clearly say:
" We wish you all a Merry Christmas Day!"
Quotation for the Day.
Now good digestion wait on appetite
And health on both.
Macbeth.
From Rhymed Receipts for Any Occasion , Imogen Clark (Boston, 1912), I give you these two poetry gems.
Christmas Charlotte Russe.
We’ll keep our Christmas merry still.
– Walter Scott.
Whip up a pint of well chilled cream
Till it’s a fairy fluff,
Then powdered sugarfold within,
Your taste is guide enough.
Add tablespoon of gelatine
Dissolved in water cold
(The cup should be but quarter full,
And drop by drop it’s told).
Next candied cherries, chopped in bits,
Ruddy and gleaming bright,
From a big cup are turned upon
The mass of snowy white.
Serve this within a sponge-cake shell,
The dish all wreathed about
With holly leaves, between whose green
Red berries twinkle out.
[Charlotte Russe was discussed in a previous post here.]
“Bethlehems”
They are ever forward in celebration of this day.
— Henry VIII.
Of all the cakes that come for Christmas Day
The little Bethlehems must lead the way,
So simple, too, to make, as you will see
If you will read this rhyme attentively.
First butter take, about a fourth of cup,
Then sugar - brim but once same measure up.
Cream these together till they're smooth as silk,
And add straightway half-cup of sweetest milk.
Next sift one cup - and half one more - of flour
Into the bowl - a sudden fairy shower! –
With two teaspoons of baking-powder white,
Now beat - and beat again - till all is light;
Then in the mixture fold with careful hand
Whites of two eggs, whipped so they stiffly stand,
And, last of all, a dash of flav'ring sweet.
Rose, or vanilla, and the whole's complete.
Put in star pans, but give each room to grow,
And bake in oven, neither quick, nor slow;
Then, when the little shapes have grown quite cold,
Wrap them in softest frosting smoothly rolled;
Let some the red of holly berries wear,
While others don a snowy mantle fair,
But white, or red, this do they clearly say:
" We wish you all a Merry Christmas Day!"
Quotation for the Day.
Now good digestion wait on appetite
And health on both.
Macbeth.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Flummery Factoids.
Today I give you, as promised, some fascinating flummery factoids. Flummery is old-fashioned, there is no question about that, and it is probably fair to say that ‘no-one’ makes it anymore. A modern ‘some-one’ wanting to make flummery would first have to decide which historical interpretation they were interested in – which means, in essence, how far back in history they wanted to go.
The original flummery was a kind of oatmeal broth or porridge. In medieval times oats were a staple (especially for the poorer folk) of the cooler northern parts of the British Isles. Flummery was an example of the absolute waste-not, want-not ethic of the time. It could be made thriftily by soaking the ‘skins’ (the ‘flummery hulls’) and dust remaining from the oatmeal seeds, the liquid then being strained off and boiled until it was thick. In some areas this liquid was fermented until it was slightly sour, as in the Scottish dish sowens. Depending on the circumstances it was eaten with milk, or honey, or ale, or wine.
This basic dish was known by many regional names. It seems that it was the Welsh version, called llymru (the double ‘ll’ having a sort of ‘th’ sound, I believe) that eventually gave us the word ‘flummery’. In England it was sometimes called ‘wash-brew’ – no doubt because the greyish thickish liquid resembled dishwater in appearance.
Flummery was from early times considered healthy and strengthening, and the essential blandness and smoothness of the basic recipe contributed to its reputation as a suitable food for invalids right up until the twentieth century. By this time, the idea of flummery was interpreted very widely, so that sometimes the recipes seem more like custard, or jelly, or cornstarch pudding, or blancmange. As the centuries wore on, it was made with basic ingredients other than oatmeal. The congealed or gelatinous texture was sometimes achieved with hartshorn, or isinglass, or gelatine, and the dish could be enriched with cream, eggs, or wine, or fruit could be added. From a simple but sustaining staple, by the twentieth century flummery had become a sweet dessert treat.
I give you a recipe for a delicious, alcohol-heavy, Victorian dessert version of flummery, from Cassell’s Dictionary of Cookery (c1877).
Dutch Flummery.
Pare the rind of a lemon very thin, and infuse it in a pint of water with half a pound of sugar. Set it on the fire until the sugar is dissolved, and the syrup well-flavoured with the lemon-rind. Simmer a few minutes, and then add two ounces of isinglass to the syrup, the strained juice of four lemons, a pint of sherry, and the yolks of eight eggs. Strain the mixture, put it into a jug, set the jug in a saucepan of boiling water, and stir until the flummery thickens. Take it out of the water, allow it to cool, and then pour it into moulds. A wine-glass ful of brandy may be added to the syrup, but in that case just so much less water will be required. Sufficient for a quart mould.
Quotation for the Day.
This word flummery, you must know, Sir, means at London, flattery, and compliment.
Lady Luxborough, letter of Nov. 29, 1775.
The original flummery was a kind of oatmeal broth or porridge. In medieval times oats were a staple (especially for the poorer folk) of the cooler northern parts of the British Isles. Flummery was an example of the absolute waste-not, want-not ethic of the time. It could be made thriftily by soaking the ‘skins’ (the ‘flummery hulls’) and dust remaining from the oatmeal seeds, the liquid then being strained off and boiled until it was thick. In some areas this liquid was fermented until it was slightly sour, as in the Scottish dish sowens. Depending on the circumstances it was eaten with milk, or honey, or ale, or wine.
This basic dish was known by many regional names. It seems that it was the Welsh version, called llymru (the double ‘ll’ having a sort of ‘th’ sound, I believe) that eventually gave us the word ‘flummery’. In England it was sometimes called ‘wash-brew’ – no doubt because the greyish thickish liquid resembled dishwater in appearance.
Flummery was from early times considered healthy and strengthening, and the essential blandness and smoothness of the basic recipe contributed to its reputation as a suitable food for invalids right up until the twentieth century. By this time, the idea of flummery was interpreted very widely, so that sometimes the recipes seem more like custard, or jelly, or cornstarch pudding, or blancmange. As the centuries wore on, it was made with basic ingredients other than oatmeal. The congealed or gelatinous texture was sometimes achieved with hartshorn, or isinglass, or gelatine, and the dish could be enriched with cream, eggs, or wine, or fruit could be added. From a simple but sustaining staple, by the twentieth century flummery had become a sweet dessert treat.
I give you a recipe for a delicious, alcohol-heavy, Victorian dessert version of flummery, from Cassell’s Dictionary of Cookery (c1877).
Dutch Flummery.
Pare the rind of a lemon very thin, and infuse it in a pint of water with half a pound of sugar. Set it on the fire until the sugar is dissolved, and the syrup well-flavoured with the lemon-rind. Simmer a few minutes, and then add two ounces of isinglass to the syrup, the strained juice of four lemons, a pint of sherry, and the yolks of eight eggs. Strain the mixture, put it into a jug, set the jug in a saucepan of boiling water, and stir until the flummery thickens. Take it out of the water, allow it to cool, and then pour it into moulds. A wine-glass ful of brandy may be added to the syrup, but in that case just so much less water will be required. Sufficient for a quart mould.
Quotation for the Day.
This word flummery, you must know, Sir, means at London, flattery, and compliment.
Lady Luxborough, letter of Nov. 29, 1775.
Tuesday, November 09, 2010
Eggs and Bacon, Not.
If the illusory bacon and eggs tickled your fancy yesterday, then I have a variation on the theme for you today.
To make Eggs and Bacon in Flummery.
Take a Pint of stiff Flummery, and make Part of it a pretty pink Colour, with the Colouring for the Flummery, dip a Potting-pot in cold Water, and pour in Red Flummery, the thickness of a Crown Piece, then the same of White Flummery, and another of Red, and twice the thickness of White Flummery at the Top; one Layer must be stiff and cold before you pour on another, then take five Tea Cups, and put a large Spoonful of White Flummery into each TeaCup, and let them stand all Night, then turn your Flummery out of your Potting Pots, on the Back of a Plate wet with cold Water, cut your Flummery into thin Slices, and lay them on a China Dish, then turn your Flummery out of the Cups on the Dish, and take a Bit out of the Top of every one, and lay in half of a preserved Apricot; it will confine the Syrup from discolouring the Flummery, and make it like the Yolk of a poached Egg: Garnish with Flowers. It is a pretty Corner Dish for Dinner, or Side for Supper.
The Experienced English Housekeeper (1769), Elizabeth Raffald.
You don’t have to stop at bacon and eggs while you are in flummery-making mode. How about this offering, also from Elizabeth Raffald?
To make Cribbage Cards in Flummery.
Fill five square Tins the Size of a Card, with very stiff Flummery, when you turn them out, have ready a little Cochineal dissolved in Brandy, and strain it through a Muslin Rag, then take a Camel's Hair Pencil, and make Hearts and Diamonds with your Cochineal, then rub a little Chocolate with a little eating Oil upon a Marble Slab, 'till it is very fine and bright, then make Clubs, and Spades; pour a little Lisbon Wine into the Dish, and send it up.
What is flummery, do I hear you ask? Flummery is tomorrow’s topic, that’s what.
Quotation for the Day.
I have never regretted Paradise Lost since I discovered that it contained no eggs-and-bacon.
Dorothy Sayers.
To make Eggs and Bacon in Flummery.
Take a Pint of stiff Flummery, and make Part of it a pretty pink Colour, with the Colouring for the Flummery, dip a Potting-pot in cold Water, and pour in Red Flummery, the thickness of a Crown Piece, then the same of White Flummery, and another of Red, and twice the thickness of White Flummery at the Top; one Layer must be stiff and cold before you pour on another, then take five Tea Cups, and put a large Spoonful of White Flummery into each TeaCup, and let them stand all Night, then turn your Flummery out of your Potting Pots, on the Back of a Plate wet with cold Water, cut your Flummery into thin Slices, and lay them on a China Dish, then turn your Flummery out of the Cups on the Dish, and take a Bit out of the Top of every one, and lay in half of a preserved Apricot; it will confine the Syrup from discolouring the Flummery, and make it like the Yolk of a poached Egg: Garnish with Flowers. It is a pretty Corner Dish for Dinner, or Side for Supper.
The Experienced English Housekeeper (1769), Elizabeth Raffald.
You don’t have to stop at bacon and eggs while you are in flummery-making mode. How about this offering, also from Elizabeth Raffald?
To make Cribbage Cards in Flummery.
Fill five square Tins the Size of a Card, with very stiff Flummery, when you turn them out, have ready a little Cochineal dissolved in Brandy, and strain it through a Muslin Rag, then take a Camel's Hair Pencil, and make Hearts and Diamonds with your Cochineal, then rub a little Chocolate with a little eating Oil upon a Marble Slab, 'till it is very fine and bright, then make Clubs, and Spades; pour a little Lisbon Wine into the Dish, and send it up.
What is flummery, do I hear you ask? Flummery is tomorrow’s topic, that’s what.
Quotation for the Day.
I have never regretted Paradise Lost since I discovered that it contained no eggs-and-bacon.
Dorothy Sayers.
Monday, November 08, 2010
Entertaining with Almonds.
I would have been impossible to put on a feast in medieval times without huge amounts of ‘marchpane’ (marzipan), and it continued to remain supreme at special occasions well into the eighteenth century for the preparation of ‘banquetting stuffe’ (sweetmeats for what we would now call the ‘dessert’ course.) The quantity (and cost) of almonds imported into Europe for the purposes of sweet treats for the wealthy, must have been staggering over these centuries – and the amount of labour to pound them all to powder by hand hardly bears thinking about.
The cooks of the time were kitchen-artists, and marchpane was a wonderful medium for their creative efforts. Marchpane could be shaped and coloured (even gilded) in a myriad ways, and all sorts of ‘subtleties’ and other wonderful items were fashioned - in 1562 Queen Elizabeth received as a New Year gift from her master cook, a chessboard made of ‘faire marchpane.’ A pale legacy of this art is in the boxes of marzipan fruits that appear in the shops in the lead-up to Christmas.
Marchpane was not just used to make ‘toys’ and gifts, it had another role in the kitchens of the wealthy. During the many strict ‘fast’ days of the religious calendar, and especially during Lent, the eating of animal products was forbidden. Almond milk could of course stand-in for real milk, and it was used preferentially much of the time anyway in many recipes – but how to ease the craving for real animal flesh? Provide the illusion of bacon and eggs made with almonds,as I showed you in previous posts, that’s how.
It has occurred to me that in the lifetime of this blog (five years and six days), I have never given you a recipe for marchpane, so here it is.
To make a March-pane.
Take two pounds of almonds being blanched and dryed in a sieve over the fire, beate them in a stone mortar, and when they bee small, mixe them with two pounds of sugar beeing finely beaten, adding two or three spoonefuls of rose-water, and that will keep your almonds from oiling: when your paste is beaten fine, drive it thin with a rowling pin, and so lay it on a bottom of wafers; then raise up a little edge on the side, and so bake it; then yce [ice] it with rose water and sugar, then put it into the oven againe, and when you see your yce is risen up and drie, then take it out of the oven and garnish it with pretie conceipts, as birdes and beasts being cast out of standing-moldes. Sticke long comfits upright into it, cast bisket and carrowaies in it, and so serve it; you may also print of this march-pane paste in your moldes for banqueting dishes. And of this paste our comfit-makers at this day make their letters, knots, armes, escutcheons, beasts, birds, and other fancies.
Delightes for Ladies, 1608
And if you like almonds, and like fun illusion food, but marzipan is not your thing, here is a delightful idea to bring a child-like pleasure to your next party.
Hedge-Hog.
Take two pounds of sweet almonds, put them into boiling water, take off the skins, save about four ounces whole, put the rest in a mortar and beat them with a little canary and orange-flower water to keep them from oiling; then beat up the yolks of twelve eggs, the whites of six, put them in and beat them well, put in a pint of cream sweeten with powder-sugar to your palate, then put it into a stew-pan; put in half a pound of fresh butter melted, set it over a stove, and stir it till it is stiff enough to be made into the shape of a hedge-hog, then put it into a dish, and cut the rest of the almonds in long slips, and stick in to represent the bristles of a hedge-hog. Boil a pint of cream, sweeten it with sugar, beat up the yolks of four eggs, the whites of two,, mix them with the cream set it over the fire, and stir it one way till it is thick then pour it round the hedge hog; let it stand till it is cold. Garnish the dish with currant jelly, and serve it up; or put a rich calf's foot jelly made clear and good instead of the cream &;c.
The English Art of Cookery (1788), by Richard Briggs.
Quotation for the Day.
Don’t eat too many almonds, they add weight to the breasts.
Colette (French novelist)
The cooks of the time were kitchen-artists, and marchpane was a wonderful medium for their creative efforts. Marchpane could be shaped and coloured (even gilded) in a myriad ways, and all sorts of ‘subtleties’ and other wonderful items were fashioned - in 1562 Queen Elizabeth received as a New Year gift from her master cook, a chessboard made of ‘faire marchpane.’ A pale legacy of this art is in the boxes of marzipan fruits that appear in the shops in the lead-up to Christmas.
Marchpane was not just used to make ‘toys’ and gifts, it had another role in the kitchens of the wealthy. During the many strict ‘fast’ days of the religious calendar, and especially during Lent, the eating of animal products was forbidden. Almond milk could of course stand-in for real milk, and it was used preferentially much of the time anyway in many recipes – but how to ease the craving for real animal flesh? Provide the illusion of bacon and eggs made with almonds,as I showed you in previous posts, that’s how.
It has occurred to me that in the lifetime of this blog (five years and six days), I have never given you a recipe for marchpane, so here it is.
To make a March-pane.
Take two pounds of almonds being blanched and dryed in a sieve over the fire, beate them in a stone mortar, and when they bee small, mixe them with two pounds of sugar beeing finely beaten, adding two or three spoonefuls of rose-water, and that will keep your almonds from oiling: when your paste is beaten fine, drive it thin with a rowling pin, and so lay it on a bottom of wafers; then raise up a little edge on the side, and so bake it; then yce [ice] it with rose water and sugar, then put it into the oven againe, and when you see your yce is risen up and drie, then take it out of the oven and garnish it with pretie conceipts, as birdes and beasts being cast out of standing-moldes. Sticke long comfits upright into it, cast bisket and carrowaies in it, and so serve it; you may also print of this march-pane paste in your moldes for banqueting dishes. And of this paste our comfit-makers at this day make their letters, knots, armes, escutcheons, beasts, birds, and other fancies.
Delightes for Ladies, 1608
And if you like almonds, and like fun illusion food, but marzipan is not your thing, here is a delightful idea to bring a child-like pleasure to your next party.
Hedge-Hog.
Take two pounds of sweet almonds, put them into boiling water, take off the skins, save about four ounces whole, put the rest in a mortar and beat them with a little canary and orange-flower water to keep them from oiling; then beat up the yolks of twelve eggs, the whites of six, put them in and beat them well, put in a pint of cream sweeten with powder-sugar to your palate, then put it into a stew-pan; put in half a pound of fresh butter melted, set it over a stove, and stir it till it is stiff enough to be made into the shape of a hedge-hog, then put it into a dish, and cut the rest of the almonds in long slips, and stick in to represent the bristles of a hedge-hog. Boil a pint of cream, sweeten it with sugar, beat up the yolks of four eggs, the whites of two,, mix them with the cream set it over the fire, and stir it one way till it is thick then pour it round the hedge hog; let it stand till it is cold. Garnish the dish with currant jelly, and serve it up; or put a rich calf's foot jelly made clear and good instead of the cream &;c.
The English Art of Cookery (1788), by Richard Briggs.
Quotation for the Day.
Don’t eat too many almonds, they add weight to the breasts.
Colette (French novelist)
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Food of the Gods.
There is a particular American dessert (it is unequivocally American), called ‘ambrosia’. Now, the ‘original’ ambrosia, according to Greek mythology, was the food (and drink) of the gods. Naturally the word came to refer to other things ‘divinely sweet or exquisitely delightful to taste or smell’ (OED). It was surely inevitable that somewhere in the world a cook somewhere would one day appropriate the word for a new dish – or more likely a variation of an existing one.
As with so many recipes, we will almost certainly never know who first used the word in this way, but some angles seem likely. The place, we have established, is America – probably the South. The time was probably in the mid-nineteenth century. The first recipe I have found so far is from 1861, but recipes are usually established well before they appear in print. The earliest recipes for ‘ambrosia’ consist essentially of sliced oranges and grated coconut, and it seems likely that it was the addition of coconut (available and popular by the 1830’s) that justified a new name for the already common dish of chilled or iced oranges.
The modern dish of ambrosia - the one for mere mortals such as ourselves - has many interpretations. I give you a short selection, for you to judge if they be sweet and heavenly enough.
Ambrosia.
Grate cocoanut, and mix with it powdered loaf-sugar to suit the taste; slice sweet oranges and sift over them powdered loaf-sugar, fill a fancy glass, dish with layers of the oranges and cocoa, heaping the dish with cocoa.
[appears that ‘cocoa’ means cocoanut]
The Housekeeper’s Encyclopaedia of Useful Information, E.F. Haskell, 1861
Ambrosia Cake.
1 cup butter, 2 cups sugar, ½ cup milk, 3 cups flour, 4 eggs beaten separately, 1 teaspoon soda, and 2 of cream of tartar; bake in layers.
Filling: Mix together, with 1 beaten egg, ½ pint whipped cream, 1 full cup grated cocoanut, ½ cup sugar, juice of one orange. Put this preparation between the layers and on top of the cake.
Queen of the Household: a carefully classified and alphabetical repository of useful information that constantly arise in the daily life of every housekeeper. Mary W. Janvin, (Detroit, c1906)
Ambrosia, or Tutti Frutti
1 pint (2 cups) brandy
Sugar
Various ripe fruits.
Put the brandy into a large stone jar, and add the various fruits as they come in season. To each quart of fruit add the same quantity of sugar; then stir the mixture with a wooden spoon each day until all the fruits have been added.
Raspberries, oranges, currants, cherries, strawberries, bananas, pears, plums, apricots, peaches, pineapples and apples are the best fruits to use.
Apricots, peaches, pineapples, apples, bananas, pears and plums should be cut in small pieces.
Keep covered with a cloth and a tight fitting cover.
This ambrosia is delicious to serve with ice creams, frozen puddings, sauces, cornstarch puddings and jellies.
Canning, preserving and pickling, Marion Harris Neil, c1914.
Ambrosia Pie [Warning: this makes 8 large pies!]
Yield 8 8 inch pies; 6 10 inch pies
Size of serving: 1/6 or 1/8 of a pie.
2 ¾ quarts of hot water
5 ½ cups flour
5 ½ cups sugar.
Mix the flour and sugar thoroughly; add about a quart of the hot water to this mixture and stir until perfectly smooth; add this to the remaining hot water and cook the mixture until thickened, stirring constantly with a wire whip.
27 (2 ¼ cups) egg yolks, beaten.
Add a little of the hot mixture to the egg yolks and combine. Return this to the hot mixture and cook it for about 5 minutes. Remove it from the heat.
4 ¾ cups orangjuice
1⅛ cups lemon juice
3 tablespoons grated orange rind
2 tablespoons grated lemon rind
2 ¼ teaspoons salt.
Add the juice and rind from the oranges and lemons; add the salt. Cool the mixture and put it into baked shells.
Meringue*
6 to 9 oranges
3 cups coconut
Cover the mixture with meringue but do not brown it. Section the oranges and arrange the sections on top of the meringue and sprinkle ½ cup coconut over each pie.
*Meringue [for same number of pies as above]
2 ¼ cups (from 18 to 22) egg whites
1 ½ teaspoons salt
1 ½ teaspoons vanilla
2 ¼ cups sugar, granulated.
Add the salt and flavouring to the egg whites.
Beat them until stiff but still shiny.
Add the sugar gradually; beat until the mixture piles up well in the bowlk and the sugar is dissolved.
Cornell Extension Bulletin 477.
Tamarind Ambrosia, from mid-nineteenth centrury Honduras is described here.
Quotation for the Day.
Bread and butter, devoid of charm in the drawing room, is ambrosia eating under a tree.
Elizabeth Russell
As with so many recipes, we will almost certainly never know who first used the word in this way, but some angles seem likely. The place, we have established, is America – probably the South. The time was probably in the mid-nineteenth century. The first recipe I have found so far is from 1861, but recipes are usually established well before they appear in print. The earliest recipes for ‘ambrosia’ consist essentially of sliced oranges and grated coconut, and it seems likely that it was the addition of coconut (available and popular by the 1830’s) that justified a new name for the already common dish of chilled or iced oranges.
The modern dish of ambrosia - the one for mere mortals such as ourselves - has many interpretations. I give you a short selection, for you to judge if they be sweet and heavenly enough.
Ambrosia.
Grate cocoanut, and mix with it powdered loaf-sugar to suit the taste; slice sweet oranges and sift over them powdered loaf-sugar, fill a fancy glass, dish with layers of the oranges and cocoa, heaping the dish with cocoa.
[appears that ‘cocoa’ means cocoanut]
The Housekeeper’s Encyclopaedia of Useful Information, E.F. Haskell, 1861
Ambrosia Cake.
1 cup butter, 2 cups sugar, ½ cup milk, 3 cups flour, 4 eggs beaten separately, 1 teaspoon soda, and 2 of cream of tartar; bake in layers.
Filling: Mix together, with 1 beaten egg, ½ pint whipped cream, 1 full cup grated cocoanut, ½ cup sugar, juice of one orange. Put this preparation between the layers and on top of the cake.
Queen of the Household: a carefully classified and alphabetical repository of useful information that constantly arise in the daily life of every housekeeper. Mary W. Janvin, (Detroit, c1906)
Ambrosia, or Tutti Frutti
1 pint (2 cups) brandy
Sugar
Various ripe fruits.
Put the brandy into a large stone jar, and add the various fruits as they come in season. To each quart of fruit add the same quantity of sugar; then stir the mixture with a wooden spoon each day until all the fruits have been added.
Raspberries, oranges, currants, cherries, strawberries, bananas, pears, plums, apricots, peaches, pineapples and apples are the best fruits to use.
Apricots, peaches, pineapples, apples, bananas, pears and plums should be cut in small pieces.
Keep covered with a cloth and a tight fitting cover.
This ambrosia is delicious to serve with ice creams, frozen puddings, sauces, cornstarch puddings and jellies.
Canning, preserving and pickling, Marion Harris Neil, c1914.
Ambrosia Pie [Warning: this makes 8 large pies!]
Yield 8 8 inch pies; 6 10 inch pies
Size of serving: 1/6 or 1/8 of a pie.
2 ¾ quarts of hot water
5 ½ cups flour
5 ½ cups sugar.
Mix the flour and sugar thoroughly; add about a quart of the hot water to this mixture and stir until perfectly smooth; add this to the remaining hot water and cook the mixture until thickened, stirring constantly with a wire whip.
27 (2 ¼ cups) egg yolks, beaten.
Add a little of the hot mixture to the egg yolks and combine. Return this to the hot mixture and cook it for about 5 minutes. Remove it from the heat.
4 ¾ cups orangjuice
1⅛ cups lemon juice
3 tablespoons grated orange rind
2 tablespoons grated lemon rind
2 ¼ teaspoons salt.
Add the juice and rind from the oranges and lemons; add the salt. Cool the mixture and put it into baked shells.
Meringue*
6 to 9 oranges
3 cups coconut
Cover the mixture with meringue but do not brown it. Section the oranges and arrange the sections on top of the meringue and sprinkle ½ cup coconut over each pie.
*Meringue [for same number of pies as above]
2 ¼ cups (from 18 to 22) egg whites
1 ½ teaspoons salt
1 ½ teaspoons vanilla
2 ¼ cups sugar, granulated.
Add the salt and flavouring to the egg whites.
Beat them until stiff but still shiny.
Add the sugar gradually; beat until the mixture piles up well in the bowlk and the sugar is dissolved.
Cornell Extension Bulletin 477.
Tamarind Ambrosia, from mid-nineteenth centrury Honduras is described here.
Quotation for the Day.
Bread and butter, devoid of charm in the drawing room, is ambrosia eating under a tree.
Elizabeth Russell
Tuesday, July 06, 2010
Charlottes.
A week or two ago I mentioned Charlotte Russe, the classic banquet and dinner-party dessert of the nineteenth century. The ‘russe’ part of the name means that whoever did the formal naming (and we may never find out who that was) wanted it associated with Russia. The ‘charlotte’ is more problematic.
As I mentioned in the earlier post, the Oxford English Dictionary says a charlotte is ‘A dish made of apple marmalade covered with crumbs of toasted bread; also, a similar dish made with fruit other than apple. Hence, charlotte russe, a dish composed of custard enclosed in a kind of sponge-cake’ (a ‘marmalade’ in this context meaning a thick fruit puree, not a breakfast preserve.) The OED gives the first use of the word in 1797 – the first use of the generic word ‘charlotte’, that is, not specifically ‘charlotte russe’. The first reference specifically for charlotte russe that is supplied by the OED is from Barnham’s The Ingoldsby Legends (1847)
A huge variety of sweet dishes go by the name of ‘charlotte’. A charlotte may be hot or chilled or frozen, something like an apple bread pudding, or more like a trifle made with Savoiardi biscuits (‘ladyfingers’), and sometimes it is closer to an ice-cream. It is usually (always?) custardy. Nineteenth century chefs produced a huge range of posh charlottes – a very brief search turned up charlottes muscovite, royale, à la Siberienne, à la Sicilienne, à la Chateaubriand, à l’Arlequine, Carmen, à la Chantilly, Montreuil, Plombière, and Renaissance.
Even under the title Charlotte Russe, there were variations. The great Escoffier noted that ‘the flavour or product which determines the character of the Charlotte should always be referred to on the menu, thus: Charlotte Russe à l’Orange, or Charlotte Russe aux Fraises etc.’ The same brief search session found recipes for Charlottes Russes with Apricots, Burnt Almonds, and au Praline too.
There are several theories as to the naming of Charlotte Russe, and I give you the favourite trio:
- It was invented by the famous French chef Carême (1784-1833), in honour of the Russian Tsar Alexander I (1777-1825).
- It was named for Princess Charlotte of Prussia (1798-1860), wife of Tsar Nicholas 1 and mother of Tsar Alexander II.
- It was named in honour of Queen Charlotte (1744-1818), wife of King George III (which might be an attempt to explain charlotte, but it hardly explains russe)
The OED rather half-heartedly suggests that ‘charlotte’ is related to the female name. Another far more intriguing idea is hidden within its own pages however. Is it not far more likely to be a corrupton of the ancient charlyt or charlet, which the OED itself describes as ‘A kind of custard containing milk, eggs, brayed pork, and seasoning, boiled to a curd’? After all, it is no more fanciful than the development of the idea of modern blancmange from the medieval blanc manger made from chicken and rice and almonds, is it?
Here, from A Noble boke off cookry ffor a prynce houssolde or eny other estately houssolde, a manuscript written in the year 1500, is a recipe for charlet.
Charlet forced [stuffed].
To mak charlet forced tak cowe mylk and yolks of eggs draw throughe a stren and bet it to gedur then tak freshe pork smalle hewene and cast all to gedure in a pan and colour it with saffrone and let it boile till it be on a crud then take it up and lay it on a clothe upon a bord and presse out the whey then tak the mylk of almondes or cow creme and sett it on the fyere put ther to sugur and colour it depe with saffrone then leshe out the crud and couche it in dishes and pour out the ceripe and cast on sugur and canelle [cinnamon]and serve it.
As I mentioned in the earlier post, the Oxford English Dictionary says a charlotte is ‘A dish made of apple marmalade covered with crumbs of toasted bread; also, a similar dish made with fruit other than apple. Hence, charlotte russe, a dish composed of custard enclosed in a kind of sponge-cake’ (a ‘marmalade’ in this context meaning a thick fruit puree, not a breakfast preserve.) The OED gives the first use of the word in 1797 – the first use of the generic word ‘charlotte’, that is, not specifically ‘charlotte russe’. The first reference specifically for charlotte russe that is supplied by the OED is from Barnham’s The Ingoldsby Legends (1847)
A huge variety of sweet dishes go by the name of ‘charlotte’. A charlotte may be hot or chilled or frozen, something like an apple bread pudding, or more like a trifle made with Savoiardi biscuits (‘ladyfingers’), and sometimes it is closer to an ice-cream. It is usually (always?) custardy. Nineteenth century chefs produced a huge range of posh charlottes – a very brief search turned up charlottes muscovite, royale, à la Siberienne, à la Sicilienne, à la Chateaubriand, à l’Arlequine, Carmen, à la Chantilly, Montreuil, Plombière, and Renaissance.
Even under the title Charlotte Russe, there were variations. The great Escoffier noted that ‘the flavour or product which determines the character of the Charlotte should always be referred to on the menu, thus: Charlotte Russe à l’Orange, or Charlotte Russe aux Fraises etc.’ The same brief search session found recipes for Charlottes Russes with Apricots, Burnt Almonds, and au Praline too.
There are several theories as to the naming of Charlotte Russe, and I give you the favourite trio:
- It was invented by the famous French chef Carême (1784-1833), in honour of the Russian Tsar Alexander I (1777-1825).
- It was named for Princess Charlotte of Prussia (1798-1860), wife of Tsar Nicholas 1 and mother of Tsar Alexander II.
- It was named in honour of Queen Charlotte (1744-1818), wife of King George III (which might be an attempt to explain charlotte, but it hardly explains russe)
The OED rather half-heartedly suggests that ‘charlotte’ is related to the female name. Another far more intriguing idea is hidden within its own pages however. Is it not far more likely to be a corrupton of the ancient charlyt or charlet, which the OED itself describes as ‘A kind of custard containing milk, eggs, brayed pork, and seasoning, boiled to a curd’? After all, it is no more fanciful than the development of the idea of modern blancmange from the medieval blanc manger made from chicken and rice and almonds, is it?
Here, from A Noble boke off cookry ffor a prynce houssolde or eny other estately houssolde, a manuscript written in the year 1500, is a recipe for charlet.
Charlet forced [stuffed].
To mak charlet forced tak cowe mylk and yolks of eggs draw throughe a stren and bet it to gedur then tak freshe pork smalle hewene and cast all to gedure in a pan and colour it with saffrone and let it boile till it be on a crud then take it up and lay it on a clothe upon a bord and presse out the whey then tak the mylk of almondes or cow creme and sett it on the fyere put ther to sugur and colour it depe with saffrone then leshe out the crud and couche it in dishes and pour out the ceripe and cast on sugur and canelle [cinnamon]and serve it.
Thursday, July 01, 2010
Deserving of the Pillory.
On this day in 1552, in Cheapside, (the old market area of London) a man was pilloried for cheating the customers who bought his strawberries. He had filled out the pots with too much fern for the amount of berries.
“The furst of July ther was a man and a woman on the pelere [pillory] in Chepe-syd [Cheapside]; the man sold potts of straberries, the whyche the pott was not alff fulle, but fylled with forne [fern]”
Legislation to protect the customer from unscrupulous food merchants is not new, although the nature of the penalties has changed somewhat. The most regulated food, from earliest times, was the Staff of Life – bread. In 1266 in England, King Henry III revived an ancient statute that determined the price of a loaf of bread and a quantity of ale in relation to the price of wheat. This Assize of Bread and Ale remained on the statute books in England until 1863! The aim of the Assize was to fix the size (weight) of a loaf of bread, regardless of the cost of wheat (called ‘corn’ in those days). Loaves were sold at a farthing, a half-penny, or a penny. As the price of corn went up, the size of the loaf purchased for a particular price went down. The limits were set once a year at harvest time, after the Feast of St Michael on September 29, but were occasionally modified during the year if the price of corn varied significantly.
There are of course, unscrupulous members of every profession. Dishonest medieval bakers developed some creative ways of cheating both the public and the official Bread Examiners. An obvious technique was to keep the full-weight loaves on the shelves when the Examiners were due, and hide the low-weight ones out the back. Another method was to hide coins or bits of metal in the dough, which were presumably taken out once the bread was weighed. Even more creatively, in the sixteenth century there is a record of some bakers found to have been soaking stale bread in water and mixing it with the new dough 'to the great abuse and scandall of their Mysterie [their Trade] , and the wrong of his Majesties' subjects.'
I don’t need to give you a recipe for medieval bread – there is no essential difference from modern bread. Basic bread has always been made from grain plus a leavening agent plus water – all other ingredients are optional embellishments. Instead I give you a wonderful custard recipe from half a century before the strawberry offence which kicked off this story – and very nice indeed it would be with some of those berries. It is from A Noble boke off cookry ffor a prynce houssolde or eny other estately houssolde, a manuscript written in the year 1500. Basic custard hasn’t changed much either. This one is a ‘standing’ (thick, sliceable) version, made as it is today with cream and eggs and sugar – but marvellously coloured and flavoured with saffron and decorated with borage flowers.
To mak creme buyle.
To mak creme buile tak cow creme and yolks of eggs drawe and well bet that it be stonding and put
ther to sugur and colour it with saffron and salt it then lesk it in dyshes and plant ther in floures of
borage and serue it.
“The furst of July ther was a man and a woman on the pelere [pillory] in Chepe-syd [Cheapside]; the man sold potts of straberries, the whyche the pott was not alff fulle, but fylled with forne [fern]”
Legislation to protect the customer from unscrupulous food merchants is not new, although the nature of the penalties has changed somewhat. The most regulated food, from earliest times, was the Staff of Life – bread. In 1266 in England, King Henry III revived an ancient statute that determined the price of a loaf of bread and a quantity of ale in relation to the price of wheat. This Assize of Bread and Ale remained on the statute books in England until 1863! The aim of the Assize was to fix the size (weight) of a loaf of bread, regardless of the cost of wheat (called ‘corn’ in those days). Loaves were sold at a farthing, a half-penny, or a penny. As the price of corn went up, the size of the loaf purchased for a particular price went down. The limits were set once a year at harvest time, after the Feast of St Michael on September 29, but were occasionally modified during the year if the price of corn varied significantly.
There are of course, unscrupulous members of every profession. Dishonest medieval bakers developed some creative ways of cheating both the public and the official Bread Examiners. An obvious technique was to keep the full-weight loaves on the shelves when the Examiners were due, and hide the low-weight ones out the back. Another method was to hide coins or bits of metal in the dough, which were presumably taken out once the bread was weighed. Even more creatively, in the sixteenth century there is a record of some bakers found to have been soaking stale bread in water and mixing it with the new dough 'to the great abuse and scandall of their Mysterie [their Trade] , and the wrong of his Majesties' subjects.'
I don’t need to give you a recipe for medieval bread – there is no essential difference from modern bread. Basic bread has always been made from grain plus a leavening agent plus water – all other ingredients are optional embellishments. Instead I give you a wonderful custard recipe from half a century before the strawberry offence which kicked off this story – and very nice indeed it would be with some of those berries. It is from A Noble boke off cookry ffor a prynce houssolde or eny other estately houssolde, a manuscript written in the year 1500. Basic custard hasn’t changed much either. This one is a ‘standing’ (thick, sliceable) version, made as it is today with cream and eggs and sugar – but marvellously coloured and flavoured with saffron and decorated with borage flowers.
To mak creme buyle.
To mak creme buile tak cow creme and yolks of eggs drawe and well bet that it be stonding and put
ther to sugur and colour it with saffron and salt it then lesk it in dyshes and plant ther in floures of
borage and serue it.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Dinner with the Kaiser.
I have another historic menu for you today. On January 27, 1898 a banquet was held to celebrate the birthday of Kaiser Wilhelm II (27 January 1859-1941). Wilhelm was Queen Victoria’s first grandson, and the last German Emperor and King of Prussia from June 1888 until he abdicated at the end of WW I on November 9, 1918.
The menu was held at the Military Casino, in the town of Metz, which is now in the part of France known as Alsace, but which was part of Germany between 1871-1919. There is no suggestion that this was a night of cards or roulette - because a ‘casino’at this time meant ‘a public room used for social meetings; a club-house; esp. a public music or dancing saloon’, it only later came to specifically refer to a gambling venue.
It was certainly an impressive dinner: the menu is given in both German and English – and for reasons which escape me, was headed with the Latin words suum cuique – ‘to each his own’. The dishes served were typical of a late nineteenth century grand dinner, and it featured a dish that had already been a specialty of the region for centuries – foie gras (see a previous post on the topic here.)
I am amazed to find that in over thirteen hundred posts, I do not appear to have ever given you an explication or recipe for the obligatory nineteenth century banquet dessert – Charlotte Russe! How can this have happened?
As with so many things, culinary and otherwise, what goes by the name of ‘charlotte’ can include a wide variety of dishes. The Oxford English Dictionary gives the definition as ‘A dish made of apple marmalade covered with crumbs of toasted bread; also, a similar dish made with fruit other than apple. Hence, charlotte russe, a dish composed of custard enclosed in a kind of sponge-cake’, with the first reference as appearing in 1797. The ‘russe’ clearly suggests that it was attributed to Russia – the ‘Charlotte’ is variously attributed – so there is fodder there for another post, Time willing.Here is one interpretation.
Charlotte Russe
½ lb. ratafia biscuits, ½ pint cream, 1 oz. sugar, 1 tablespoon sherry, 1 tablespoon raspberry jam, ½ oz. gelatine, 1 teaspoon vanilla.
Rub the jam through a sieve, dip the ratafias first into it, then into the sherry, and with them line the side of a plain Charlotte mould, the first row should be put in quite dry. Whip the cream to a stiff froth, add to it the sugar, vanilla, and melted gelatine. Fill the mould, when set, turn out and garnish the top with whipped cream.
Cookery. Maud C. Cooke. London, Ontario.1896.
The menu was held at the Military Casino, in the town of Metz, which is now in the part of France known as Alsace, but which was part of Germany between 1871-1919. There is no suggestion that this was a night of cards or roulette - because a ‘casino’at this time meant ‘a public room used for social meetings; a club-house; esp. a public music or dancing saloon’, it only later came to specifically refer to a gambling venue.
It was certainly an impressive dinner: the menu is given in both German and English – and for reasons which escape me, was headed with the Latin words suum cuique – ‘to each his own’. The dishes served were typical of a late nineteenth century grand dinner, and it featured a dish that had already been a specialty of the region for centuries – foie gras (see a previous post on the topic here.)
Speisenfolge.
Caviarbrödchen.
Oschenschwanzuppe.
Skinbutte mit
Austersauce und Kartoffeln.
Rinderfilet mit Gemüsen.
Strassburger Gänseleleberpastete.
Truthahn.
Eingemachte Früchte.
Salat.
Charlotte Russe.
Nachtisch.
Kaffee.
Menu.
Caviar Canapes.
Ox-tail Soup.
Turbot with
Oyster Sauce and Potatoes.
Fillet of Beef with Vegetables.
Strasbourg Foie Gras.
Turkey.
Preserved Fruit.
Salad.
Charlotte Russe.
Dessert.
Coffee.
I am amazed to find that in over thirteen hundred posts, I do not appear to have ever given you an explication or recipe for the obligatory nineteenth century banquet dessert – Charlotte Russe! How can this have happened?
As with so many things, culinary and otherwise, what goes by the name of ‘charlotte’ can include a wide variety of dishes. The Oxford English Dictionary gives the definition as ‘A dish made of apple marmalade covered with crumbs of toasted bread; also, a similar dish made with fruit other than apple. Hence, charlotte russe, a dish composed of custard enclosed in a kind of sponge-cake’, with the first reference as appearing in 1797. The ‘russe’ clearly suggests that it was attributed to Russia – the ‘Charlotte’ is variously attributed – so there is fodder there for another post, Time willing.Here is one interpretation.
Charlotte Russe
½ lb. ratafia biscuits, ½ pint cream, 1 oz. sugar, 1 tablespoon sherry, 1 tablespoon raspberry jam, ½ oz. gelatine, 1 teaspoon vanilla.
Rub the jam through a sieve, dip the ratafias first into it, then into the sherry, and with them line the side of a plain Charlotte mould, the first row should be put in quite dry. Whip the cream to a stiff froth, add to it the sugar, vanilla, and melted gelatine. Fill the mould, when set, turn out and garnish the top with whipped cream.
Cookery. Maud C. Cooke. London, Ontario.1896.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
The royal dinner, 1938
Today's post was to be on 'Appreciating your Garlicke', as it seemed a nice idea to follow on yesterday's Knowing your Onions. I find myself short of time this week however (what else is new?), so to save ruining the almost five-year old tradition of Monday to Friday posts, I give you a menu which was to be included in Menus from History, but ultimately ejected. The story is two weeks late, as it relates to a royal dinner during Ascot week in 1938, but I am sure you will enjoy dining in right royal style anyway.
King George VI and Queen Elizabeth (the future Queen Mother) were enjoying the horse-racing during Ascot week (see June 15) in June 1938, as has been the tradition of the royal family for over a century. The royal family usually live at Windsor during Ascot week, but the dinner menu for the evening of June 14, 1938 bears the Buckingham Palace insignia.
Instructions or descriptions of all of these dishes are described in Royal Menus by Rene Roussin, who was the Chef de Cuisine to King George VI.
Consommé Jeanne Garnier: a chicken consommé with pigeon added when the consomme is clarified, then champagne is added; then a final garnish with rice and prawns.
Filet de Sole du Bon Normand: the fish is poached, and served on a mushroom pureee
Carré d’Agneau Bouquetière: this consists of the best chops from one side of the lamb left in a small joint, with the ends of the chop bones trimmed short; served with a selection of vegtgables poached then buttered
Caneton Glacé Montmorency: the duck is served with a sauce made from the duck jus and pineapple juice, and is garnished with pineapple.
Salade Alice: this consists of dessert apples, cored and stuffed with apple, redcurrants and blanched slivered almonds and cream
Fonds d’Artichauts Colbert: artichoke hearts are buttered and baked in the oven.
Cassolette à l’Indienne: these are pastry tarts filled with chicken breast meat mixed with curry sauce and served warm.
Recipe for the Day:
The making of a Coeur Flotant aux Fraises relies on the previous preparation of several ‘sub-recipes’ which are fundamental to the pastrycook’s repertoire. The following are taken from Roussin’s book.
Coeur Flotant aux Fraises
(Strawberry Heart)
Take a ‘round’ of sponge-cake made in the form of a heart – i.e. in a heart-shaped tin. Cut the sponge carefully into thin layers. Separate the layers and sprinkle them with kirsch and maraschino until they are well damped but not in danger of disintegrating. Now spread a coating of thick apricot sauce (see page 240) on each piece and sprinkle the surface with currants and chopped blanched almonds. Reassemble the sponge cake in layers and coat the top with crème chantilly well flavoured with vanilla. Sprinkle the cream with chopped Pistachio nuts and more currants. Arrange the cake on a serving dish with a raised centre, surrounded by a circle of custard (crème anglais) set with large ripe, raw strawberries.
A little light strawberry syrup (about 14o) made by poaching ripe strawberries in syrup until soft, passing them through a sieve, and straining off the clear liquor, should be poured over the border of the crème anglaise and raw fruit.
King George VI and Queen Elizabeth (the future Queen Mother) were enjoying the horse-racing during Ascot week (see June 15) in June 1938, as has been the tradition of the royal family for over a century. The royal family usually live at Windsor during Ascot week, but the dinner menu for the evening of June 14, 1938 bears the Buckingham Palace insignia.
Consommé Jeanne Garnier.
Filet de Sole du Bon Normand.
Carré d’Agneau Bouquetière.
Caneton Glacé Montmorency.
Salade Alice.
Fonds d’Artichauts Colbert.
Coeur Flotant aux Fraises.
Bonbonnière de Petits Fours.
Cassolette à l’Indienne.
Instructions or descriptions of all of these dishes are described in Royal Menus by Rene Roussin, who was the Chef de Cuisine to King George VI.
Consommé Jeanne Garnier: a chicken consommé with pigeon added when the consomme is clarified, then champagne is added; then a final garnish with rice and prawns.
Filet de Sole du Bon Normand: the fish is poached, and served on a mushroom pureee
Carré d’Agneau Bouquetière: this consists of the best chops from one side of the lamb left in a small joint, with the ends of the chop bones trimmed short; served with a selection of vegtgables poached then buttered
Caneton Glacé Montmorency: the duck is served with a sauce made from the duck jus and pineapple juice, and is garnished with pineapple.
Salade Alice: this consists of dessert apples, cored and stuffed with apple, redcurrants and blanched slivered almonds and cream
Fonds d’Artichauts Colbert: artichoke hearts are buttered and baked in the oven.
Cassolette à l’Indienne: these are pastry tarts filled with chicken breast meat mixed with curry sauce and served warm.
Recipe for the Day:
The making of a Coeur Flotant aux Fraises relies on the previous preparation of several ‘sub-recipes’ which are fundamental to the pastrycook’s repertoire. The following are taken from Roussin’s book.
Coeur Flotant aux Fraises
(Strawberry Heart)
Take a ‘round’ of sponge-cake made in the form of a heart – i.e. in a heart-shaped tin. Cut the sponge carefully into thin layers. Separate the layers and sprinkle them with kirsch and maraschino until they are well damped but not in danger of disintegrating. Now spread a coating of thick apricot sauce (see page 240) on each piece and sprinkle the surface with currants and chopped blanched almonds. Reassemble the sponge cake in layers and coat the top with crème chantilly well flavoured with vanilla. Sprinkle the cream with chopped Pistachio nuts and more currants. Arrange the cake on a serving dish with a raised centre, surrounded by a circle of custard (crème anglais) set with large ripe, raw strawberries.
A little light strawberry syrup (about 14o) made by poaching ripe strawberries in syrup until soft, passing them through a sieve, and straining off the clear liquor, should be poured over the border of the crème anglaise and raw fruit.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Bread or Cake?
I have this vague sense of being sucked in by someone’s clever marketing-by-renaming trick when I make or eat banana 'bread'. I have the same feeling about muffins, which in their common modern form (not the traditional yeast-raised ‘English’ muffin) are just an excuse to eat cake for breakfast. I hasten to add that this fleeting feeling does not interfere with my enjoyment of the said ‘breads’ however.
Without getting involved in a convoluted argument about what constitutes ‘bread’, I would be interested to know your opinions. Is it only bread if it is leavened with yeast - which would make Irish soda bread not real bread? Or does it depend on the amount of sugar – and if so, how much (a teaspoon to start the yeast bubbling OK?). Or the fat (lots of butter in a lot of muffins)? The absence of fruit, nuts, spices …… ? Must it be baked, or are Chinese steamed buns also ‘bread’?. You get my definition drift?
There is probably no debate about bread being a starch-based food – but which starch? There is no debate about wheat being the best source of gluten, or the fact that gluten is what gives ‘bread’ its structure and texture, which makes wheat bread the ‘best’ bread from that point of view - it is the Gold Standard, so to speak. Nevetheless, many folk around the world are happy with, and even prefer, bread made from other grains and seeds such as rye, barley, oats, corn etc.
Bananas are starchy too, so it is not surprising that bananas can be used to make non-cakey banana bread. The trick, it appears, is not to use the mashed fruit, but to use banana flour – and Boy! Would I like to get my hands on some. I tried to find a complete recipe for banana bread using banana flour, but only managed to find general advice about using it to substitute for an amount (about a quarter?) of the wheat flour.
Banana flour is made by drying and grinding the green fruit – not an easy operation for the home cook. It was advocated as a healthy food in several books of invalid cookery in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, such as Mrs Rorer’s Diet for the Sick (1914). The well-known Mrs. Rorer says “banana flour is made from under-ripe bananas, thoroughly dried and ground. It is exceedingly good for diabetic, rheumatic, and gouty patients. It may be made into mush, or gems, or small cakes.”
Another ‘healthy’ (in this case vegetarian) cookery book, Reform Cookery: Up-to-date Health Cookery for the Twentieth Century (1909) by Jean Oliver Mill gives a recipe for Banana Flour Scones, which is the closest I could get to a banana bread recipe today – and they sound absolutely delicious.
Banana Flour Scones
1 lb. banana flour, 2 oz. butter or “Nutter”, 2 oz. sugar, 1 teaspoonful baking powderd, milk. Mix flour – the banana flour sold by the lb. is best – sugar, and baking powder. Rub in butter, make into a light dough with milk. Cut into small scones, and bake in a good oven about 15 minutes.
These scones are exceedingly good, and quite different from those made with ordinary flour. They may be varied by adding a few Sultanas or a beaten egg.
P. S In case you want a reminder about ‘scones’ – go here, and here
Quotation for the Day
Yeah, I like cars and basketball. But you know what I like more? Bananas.
Frankie Muniz
Without getting involved in a convoluted argument about what constitutes ‘bread’, I would be interested to know your opinions. Is it only bread if it is leavened with yeast - which would make Irish soda bread not real bread? Or does it depend on the amount of sugar – and if so, how much (a teaspoon to start the yeast bubbling OK?). Or the fat (lots of butter in a lot of muffins)? The absence of fruit, nuts, spices …… ? Must it be baked, or are Chinese steamed buns also ‘bread’?. You get my definition drift?
There is probably no debate about bread being a starch-based food – but which starch? There is no debate about wheat being the best source of gluten, or the fact that gluten is what gives ‘bread’ its structure and texture, which makes wheat bread the ‘best’ bread from that point of view - it is the Gold Standard, so to speak. Nevetheless, many folk around the world are happy with, and even prefer, bread made from other grains and seeds such as rye, barley, oats, corn etc.
Bananas are starchy too, so it is not surprising that bananas can be used to make non-cakey banana bread. The trick, it appears, is not to use the mashed fruit, but to use banana flour – and Boy! Would I like to get my hands on some. I tried to find a complete recipe for banana bread using banana flour, but only managed to find general advice about using it to substitute for an amount (about a quarter?) of the wheat flour.
Banana flour is made by drying and grinding the green fruit – not an easy operation for the home cook. It was advocated as a healthy food in several books of invalid cookery in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, such as Mrs Rorer’s Diet for the Sick (1914). The well-known Mrs. Rorer says “banana flour is made from under-ripe bananas, thoroughly dried and ground. It is exceedingly good for diabetic, rheumatic, and gouty patients. It may be made into mush, or gems, or small cakes.”
Another ‘healthy’ (in this case vegetarian) cookery book, Reform Cookery: Up-to-date Health Cookery for the Twentieth Century (1909) by Jean Oliver Mill gives a recipe for Banana Flour Scones, which is the closest I could get to a banana bread recipe today – and they sound absolutely delicious.
Banana Flour Scones
1 lb. banana flour, 2 oz. butter or “Nutter”, 2 oz. sugar, 1 teaspoonful baking powderd, milk. Mix flour – the banana flour sold by the lb. is best – sugar, and baking powder. Rub in butter, make into a light dough with milk. Cut into small scones, and bake in a good oven about 15 minutes.
These scones are exceedingly good, and quite different from those made with ordinary flour. They may be varied by adding a few Sultanas or a beaten egg.
P. S In case you want a reminder about ‘scones’ – go here, and here
Quotation for the Day
Yeah, I like cars and basketball. But you know what I like more? Bananas.
Frankie Muniz
Thursday, June 10, 2010
It’s all in the method.
Yesterday I had a mini-rant about the mean-spiritedness of folk who decline to share their recipes when asked nicely. Aside from the meanness of it, there is a very pragmatic reason why this is a silly reaction. A recipe is more than a list of ingredients. The method instructions are the tricky part. It is very difficult to write them in such a clear and unequivocal way that the recipient - working in a different kitchen with a different interpretation of terms such as ‘mix thoroughly’ and ‘chop finely’ – can reproduce the dish exactly. Heck! I can’t even get the same result from my own recipes every time! I want to touch on this topic again today.
One of my other recent themes is the finding of cookery recipes in places other than regular cookery publications. Today’s story touches on this too, as the recipes I want to share with you come from the Wisconsin State Agricultural Society Transactions, published in 1861 (and which is largely a report on the tenth Annual State Fair in the previous year).
Today’s recipes are a selection from those which won prizes in various cookery categories at the Fair, and which were published in the report. Did I say ‘recipes’? There was no danger of loss of intellectual property here, as you will see. Perhaps this was not the rationale anyway – no doubt the good women (and girls) of Wisconsin did not need to be told how to assemble the ingredients ‘according to the usual manner.’
Genuine Sponge Cake.
3 cups of flour, 3 cups of sugar, and ten eggs.
Mrs. H.W.Hayes, Palmyra.
Premium Corn Cake.
Two qts. Indian meal, 1 qt. Graham flour, 1 cup yeast, 1 cup molasses or sugar, ½ tea-spoonful soda, ½ tea-spoonful salt.
Mrs. H.W.Hayes, Palmyra.
Premium Cookies – Juvenile List.
Six spoonfuls of sugar, four of butter, and three eggs.
Miss F.V.Niles, (10 years)
Premium Gingerbread.
One cup molasses, one-half cup butter, one-half cup buttermilk, two eggs, one table-spoonful brown sugar, one tea-spoonful ginger, one tea-spoonful saleratus, flour enough to make a stiff batter.
Miss Josephine Peffer (under 12 years)
Quotation for the Day.
A recipe is not meant to be followed exactly – it is a canvas on which you can embroider.
Roger Verge.
One of my other recent themes is the finding of cookery recipes in places other than regular cookery publications. Today’s story touches on this too, as the recipes I want to share with you come from the Wisconsin State Agricultural Society Transactions, published in 1861 (and which is largely a report on the tenth Annual State Fair in the previous year).
Today’s recipes are a selection from those which won prizes in various cookery categories at the Fair, and which were published in the report. Did I say ‘recipes’? There was no danger of loss of intellectual property here, as you will see. Perhaps this was not the rationale anyway – no doubt the good women (and girls) of Wisconsin did not need to be told how to assemble the ingredients ‘according to the usual manner.’
Genuine Sponge Cake.
3 cups of flour, 3 cups of sugar, and ten eggs.
Mrs. H.W.Hayes, Palmyra.
Premium Corn Cake.
Two qts. Indian meal, 1 qt. Graham flour, 1 cup yeast, 1 cup molasses or sugar, ½ tea-spoonful soda, ½ tea-spoonful salt.
Mrs. H.W.Hayes, Palmyra.
Premium Cookies – Juvenile List.
Six spoonfuls of sugar, four of butter, and three eggs.
Miss F.V.Niles, (10 years)
Premium Gingerbread.
One cup molasses, one-half cup butter, one-half cup buttermilk, two eggs, one table-spoonful brown sugar, one tea-spoonful ginger, one tea-spoonful saleratus, flour enough to make a stiff batter.
Miss Josephine Peffer (under 12 years)
Quotation for the Day.
A recipe is not meant to be followed exactly – it is a canvas on which you can embroider.
Roger Verge.
Monday, June 07, 2010
Food as Propaganda.
Unravelling urban myth from real history is a constant challenge, whatever the topic, isn’t it? The problem is, that if a sufficiently magical explanation is repeated often enough (an easy thing, nowadays, thanks to the Internet), it becomes indistinguishable from truth, doesn’t it? I make no claim to have unravelled the real story in today’s story – I haven’t spent nearly enough time on it, for starters – but I hope you find it interesting anyway.
The repeated factoid that intrigued me this week was the statement that ‘German Biscuits’ were renamed ‘Empire Biscuits’ in Britain as anti-German sentiment escalated in the prelude to World War II. This linguistic jingoism of this period has been a previous topic on this blog, when we considered the patriotic name-changes of sauerkraut to ‘liberty cabbage’, hamburgers to ‘liberty steak’, frankfurters to‘hot dogs’, and even ‘sauce allemande’ to ‘sauce blonde’. Then, in 2003, French fries and French toast briefly became ‘freedom fries’ and ‘freedom toast’ in the House of Representatives cafeteria, in response to French opposition to American invasion of Iraq. Other countries have done the same thing – just to name a couple: supposedly in Germany in WW II, ‘Norwegian sardines’ briefly became ‘Hindenburg Sardines’, and during the Jyllands-Posten Muhammad cartoon controversy in 2006, some groups in Iran wanted ‘Danish pastry to be renamed ‘Roses of the Prophet Muhammad.’
I had not previously heard the German biscuit name change theory, but it seems like a nice one to add to the list. I found many recipes for German biscuits, and a paltry few (much later) recipes for Empire biscuits, but I found no clear reference that commented on an intentional name change for patriotic reasons.
So - are German biscuits and Empire biscuits indeed the same thing? Recipes for German biscuits are common in cookbooks from the early nineteenth century, and they seem to fall into two broad groups. One is a spiced biscuit, reminiscent of one type of gingerbread. The other is a plain biscuit, with jam, or icing, or both. This latter sort is also called a ‘Linzer biscuit’ and it is clearly a bastard descendant of the Austrian (not German) ‘Linzertorte.’ The Linzertorte is a wonderful tart made from pastry which includes ground almonds or hazelnuts, with a jam filling, and a lattice top. It claims a heritage dating back to at least the seventeenth century in Austria. It seems that this last version is the one which became the Empire biscuit (or, alternatively, the ‘Belgian biscuit.’)
Mentions of the ‘Empire biscuit’ do seem to appear around about the time in question, but, rather oddly, are referred to as a specialty of Scotland. They consist of a couple of plain sweet biscuits sandwiched together with jam, and topped with white icing and a glace cherry.
That something as apparently innocuous as the name of a biscuit can inflame patriotic passions is demonstrated in the following article from the Washington Post in October 1933.
I give you a selection of German biscuits from which to take your pick:
German Biscuits.
Take cloves, cinnamon, corianders, nutmeg, of each a quarter of an ounce, and pound and sift them (or the essence of those spices will answer the same purpose); two ounces of preserved lemon peel, and one pound of sweet almonds cut into fine prawlings [as for pralines]; mix these ingredients with twenty four eggs, and five pounds of sugar, and as much flour as will make it of a malleable paste. Roll it out into squares, lozenges, ovals, or any other shape; when baked put on them an iceing of chocolate &c. to your taste.
The Italian Confectioner, William Alexis Jarrin, (London, England, 1829)
German Biscuits.
Rub in a quarter of a pound of butter amongst half a pound of flour, one quarter of a pound of sugar, a little carbonate of soda; moisten with one egg, and season with a few drops of essence of bitter almonds; put it in small bits on a buttered tin as rough as possible. Bake in a slow oven.
The Practice of Cookery and Pastry, I. Williamson, (Edinburgh, Scotland, 1862)
German Biscuits.
Whisk two eggs thoroughly, and stir into them half a pound of sifted loaf sugar. Beat them for twenty minutes, then add the peel of a small lemon, grated, two dessert-spoonfuls of cream, and, gradually, half a pound of fine flour. Mix all well together, roll the pastry out very thin, stamp it, with an ordinary pastry-cutter, into different shapes, and bake in buttered tins, in a quick oven, till light and coloured, which will be in about seven or eight minutes. Probable cost, 6d.
Cassell’s Dictionary of Cookery, (London, England, ca. 1870)
German Biscuits.
One cupful each of flour, ground rice, and sugar, 2 oz. butter, two eggs, half a packet mixed spice, one teaspoonful of soda, and two of cream of tartar. Roll out and cut into rounds, and when baked stick two together with jam. Put icing on top, made as below:- To the white of an egg beaten to a stiff froth add ¼ lb powdered sugar, spread on the biscuits, and place in a cool oven for a minute or two to dry.
The Leeds Mercury (Leeds, England), June 29, 1895
I finally found a recipe for Empire Biscuits – in an American newspaper, but apparently from an English contributor.
Empire Biscuits (Cookies)
You will need the following ingredients:
½ lb butter (or oleo)
¾ C sugar
2 eggs beaten slightly
3 C flour
1 t. soda
1 t. Cream of tartar
Cream shortening and sugar together, add eggs, then dry ingredients sifted together. Mix well.
Roll very thin, 1/8 to ¼ inch thick. Cut with cookie cutter.
Spread one-half of the cookies with raspberry jam or other tart jam. Place on second cookie sandwich fashion.
Bake10 minutes in slow oven 350 degrees.
Mrs Wharton warns that these cookies must be watched carefully so they don’t brown.
When cool, ice with confectioners sugar icing. Place a chip of cherry in the center of each cookie. Makes 60 double cookies.
Chronicle Telegram (Ohio) Dec 17, 1954
Quotation for the Day.
How can one make friends without exquisite dishes! It is mainly through the table that one governs!
Jean-Jacques Regis de Cambaceres.
The repeated factoid that intrigued me this week was the statement that ‘German Biscuits’ were renamed ‘Empire Biscuits’ in Britain as anti-German sentiment escalated in the prelude to World War II. This linguistic jingoism of this period has been a previous topic on this blog, when we considered the patriotic name-changes of sauerkraut to ‘liberty cabbage’, hamburgers to ‘liberty steak’, frankfurters to‘hot dogs’, and even ‘sauce allemande’ to ‘sauce blonde’. Then, in 2003, French fries and French toast briefly became ‘freedom fries’ and ‘freedom toast’ in the House of Representatives cafeteria, in response to French opposition to American invasion of Iraq. Other countries have done the same thing – just to name a couple: supposedly in Germany in WW II, ‘Norwegian sardines’ briefly became ‘Hindenburg Sardines’, and during the Jyllands-Posten Muhammad cartoon controversy in 2006, some groups in Iran wanted ‘Danish pastry to be renamed ‘Roses of the Prophet Muhammad.’
I had not previously heard the German biscuit name change theory, but it seems like a nice one to add to the list. I found many recipes for German biscuits, and a paltry few (much later) recipes for Empire biscuits, but I found no clear reference that commented on an intentional name change for patriotic reasons.
So - are German biscuits and Empire biscuits indeed the same thing? Recipes for German biscuits are common in cookbooks from the early nineteenth century, and they seem to fall into two broad groups. One is a spiced biscuit, reminiscent of one type of gingerbread. The other is a plain biscuit, with jam, or icing, or both. This latter sort is also called a ‘Linzer biscuit’ and it is clearly a bastard descendant of the Austrian (not German) ‘Linzertorte.’ The Linzertorte is a wonderful tart made from pastry which includes ground almonds or hazelnuts, with a jam filling, and a lattice top. It claims a heritage dating back to at least the seventeenth century in Austria. It seems that this last version is the one which became the Empire biscuit (or, alternatively, the ‘Belgian biscuit.’)
Mentions of the ‘Empire biscuit’ do seem to appear around about the time in question, but, rather oddly, are referred to as a specialty of Scotland. They consist of a couple of plain sweet biscuits sandwiched together with jam, and topped with white icing and a glace cherry.
That something as apparently innocuous as the name of a biscuit can inflame patriotic passions is demonstrated in the following article from the Washington Post in October 1933.
“GERMAN” BISCUITS WRECK PARIS CAFE.
PATRON READS EDINBURGH BRAND “HINDENBURG.”
Paris, Oct. 7. Uproar ensued at the Valenciennes railway station today when a customer in the buffet asserted the biscuits he was eating were stamped “Hindenberg.”
The crowd pulled down the trays and trampled them on the ground until the police rushed in. The manager sued the customer for the lost case of biscuits.
In court, the judge reserved his finding after the manager produced samples of the biscuits. All were stamped “Made in Edinburgh.”
I give you a selection of German biscuits from which to take your pick:
German Biscuits.
Take cloves, cinnamon, corianders, nutmeg, of each a quarter of an ounce, and pound and sift them (or the essence of those spices will answer the same purpose); two ounces of preserved lemon peel, and one pound of sweet almonds cut into fine prawlings [as for pralines]; mix these ingredients with twenty four eggs, and five pounds of sugar, and as much flour as will make it of a malleable paste. Roll it out into squares, lozenges, ovals, or any other shape; when baked put on them an iceing of chocolate &c. to your taste.
The Italian Confectioner, William Alexis Jarrin, (London, England, 1829)
German Biscuits.
Rub in a quarter of a pound of butter amongst half a pound of flour, one quarter of a pound of sugar, a little carbonate of soda; moisten with one egg, and season with a few drops of essence of bitter almonds; put it in small bits on a buttered tin as rough as possible. Bake in a slow oven.
The Practice of Cookery and Pastry, I. Williamson, (Edinburgh, Scotland, 1862)
German Biscuits.
Whisk two eggs thoroughly, and stir into them half a pound of sifted loaf sugar. Beat them for twenty minutes, then add the peel of a small lemon, grated, two dessert-spoonfuls of cream, and, gradually, half a pound of fine flour. Mix all well together, roll the pastry out very thin, stamp it, with an ordinary pastry-cutter, into different shapes, and bake in buttered tins, in a quick oven, till light and coloured, which will be in about seven or eight minutes. Probable cost, 6d.
Cassell’s Dictionary of Cookery, (London, England, ca. 1870)
German Biscuits.
One cupful each of flour, ground rice, and sugar, 2 oz. butter, two eggs, half a packet mixed spice, one teaspoonful of soda, and two of cream of tartar. Roll out and cut into rounds, and when baked stick two together with jam. Put icing on top, made as below:- To the white of an egg beaten to a stiff froth add ¼ lb powdered sugar, spread on the biscuits, and place in a cool oven for a minute or two to dry.
The Leeds Mercury (Leeds, England), June 29, 1895
I finally found a recipe for Empire Biscuits – in an American newspaper, but apparently from an English contributor.
Empire Biscuits (Cookies)
You will need the following ingredients:
½ lb butter (or oleo)
¾ C sugar
2 eggs beaten slightly
3 C flour
1 t. soda
1 t. Cream of tartar
Cream shortening and sugar together, add eggs, then dry ingredients sifted together. Mix well.
Roll very thin, 1/8 to ¼ inch thick. Cut with cookie cutter.
Spread one-half of the cookies with raspberry jam or other tart jam. Place on second cookie sandwich fashion.
Bake10 minutes in slow oven 350 degrees.
Mrs Wharton warns that these cookies must be watched carefully so they don’t brown.
When cool, ice with confectioners sugar icing. Place a chip of cherry in the center of each cookie. Makes 60 double cookies.
Chronicle Telegram (Ohio) Dec 17, 1954
Quotation for the Day.
How can one make friends without exquisite dishes! It is mainly through the table that one governs!
Jean-Jacques Regis de Cambaceres.
Monday, May 10, 2010
Date Milk.
When I came across a reference recently to ‘date milk’, I assumed that it was something made from steeping or emulsifying dates in a liquid – something therefore along the lines of almond ‘milk’ or a date milkshake. I don’t know how I could have gotten to the age I am, and done the reading I have on all sorts of food topics, without coming to the knowledge that date milk is more along the lines of maple syrup. Sometimes my own ignorance astounds me.
This is how date milk comes about:
A white liquor known by the name of date-milk is drawn from the palm tree. To obtain it, all the branches are cut from the summit of one of these trees; and after several incisions have been made in it, they are covered with leaves, in order that the heat of the sun may not dry it: the sap then drops into a vessel placed to receive the liquor. The milk of the date tree has an agreeable sweet taste when new; it is very refreshing and is given even to sick people.
The companion for the orchard: An historical and botanical account of fruits known in Great Britain, Henry Phillips, 1831.
Naturally, this sweet sap lends itself beautifully to fermentation and distillation. Date wine may also be is made by fermenting a either mixture of dates soaked in water, or a syrup made by boiling dates. Distillation of the fermented beverage produces a form of ‘toddy’, or in the case of the sap, a very potent beverage sometimes called ‘cream of the valley.’
A very famous date wine was apparently produced in Egypt in ancient times, and exported to Rome where it was enjoyed at the best tables. Marco Polo (or his ghost-writer) mentioned Egyptian date wine in his Travels, and noted that it had spiced added “and very good it is.” Some biblical scholars also suggest that the ‘strong drink’ of the Bible may have been date (or palm) wine.
For the recipe of the day, I do not give you the specific instructions for making date wine, but instead have chosen one of the delights included in the Date Cook Book, published in 1919 by May Sowles Metzler – a book originating in Coachella Valley, “The American home of the date”.
Syrian Method of Preserving Dates.
Take the largest dates obtainable, preferably before they are entirely ripe; peel them with a sharp knife, put them in a pot, add a little more than enough water to cover them, boil until they are soft; then slip the seeds out and put an almond or pistachio, with a clove, in the cavity; boil dates in syrup with a little lemon peel until the proper consistency; take them off the fire and let them stand overnight; then bring to a boil again and put in glass jars.
Quotation for the Day.
Men become passionately attached to women who know how to cosset them with delicate tidbits.
Honoré de Balzac (1799-1859)
This is how date milk comes about:
A white liquor known by the name of date-milk is drawn from the palm tree. To obtain it, all the branches are cut from the summit of one of these trees; and after several incisions have been made in it, they are covered with leaves, in order that the heat of the sun may not dry it: the sap then drops into a vessel placed to receive the liquor. The milk of the date tree has an agreeable sweet taste when new; it is very refreshing and is given even to sick people.
The companion for the orchard: An historical and botanical account of fruits known in Great Britain, Henry Phillips, 1831.
Naturally, this sweet sap lends itself beautifully to fermentation and distillation. Date wine may also be is made by fermenting a either mixture of dates soaked in water, or a syrup made by boiling dates. Distillation of the fermented beverage produces a form of ‘toddy’, or in the case of the sap, a very potent beverage sometimes called ‘cream of the valley.’
A very famous date wine was apparently produced in Egypt in ancient times, and exported to Rome where it was enjoyed at the best tables. Marco Polo (or his ghost-writer) mentioned Egyptian date wine in his Travels, and noted that it had spiced added “and very good it is.” Some biblical scholars also suggest that the ‘strong drink’ of the Bible may have been date (or palm) wine.
For the recipe of the day, I do not give you the specific instructions for making date wine, but instead have chosen one of the delights included in the Date Cook Book, published in 1919 by May Sowles Metzler – a book originating in Coachella Valley, “The American home of the date”.
Syrian Method of Preserving Dates.
Take the largest dates obtainable, preferably before they are entirely ripe; peel them with a sharp knife, put them in a pot, add a little more than enough water to cover them, boil until they are soft; then slip the seeds out and put an almond or pistachio, with a clove, in the cavity; boil dates in syrup with a little lemon peel until the proper consistency; take them off the fire and let them stand overnight; then bring to a boil again and put in glass jars.
Quotation for the Day.
Men become passionately attached to women who know how to cosset them with delicate tidbits.
Honoré de Balzac (1799-1859)
Thursday, May 06, 2010
The Flavours of Sugar.
It doesn’t take much reading of historical cookery books to make one realise that there is little or nothing under the culinary sun that is brand new. Sometimes there is the realisation that a good old idea is waiting to be rediscovered and rebranded as innovative and fashionable.
Flavoured salt is currently quite fashionable. As the fashion for it inevitably wanes (perhaps it is already trending towards passé?), perhaps we should rediscover flavoured sugar? Of course, we all recycle our slightly-used vanilla beans into a jar of sugar, don’t we? And I have come across lemon sugar as a topping for cookies too, but surely there are more ideas?
I recently came across a sentence in Richard Burton’s The Book of the Thousand Nights and a Night, (1882) which gave me the idea:
“So they waited until Obayd had eaten his fill and washed his hands and drunk coffee and sherbets of sugar flavoured with musk and ambergris.”
Doesn’t that sound wonderful? We have come across ambergris before in this blog, in recipes for negus and almond pudding, but it is not available in my local supermarket or delicatessen, so I cannot make ambergris sugar (I am thinking flavoured sugars might make nice Christmas gifts). There are references to ‘sugar of roses’ and ‘sugar of violets’ being purchased by the nobleman Earl Clare, in 1275, for a total of 27 shillings – an enormous sum in those days – but I have no garden. Cinnamon sugar for cinnamon toast is nice, but not interesting. What else is there?
From The Royal English and Foreign Confectioner, by Queen Victoria’s chef Charles Elmé Francatelli (1862), I give you these ideas:
Clove Sugar.
Dry two ounces of cloves and pound them with one pound of loaf sugar in the manner prescribed in the foregoing number.
Orange-Flower Sugar.
Pound four ounces of candied orange flowers with one pound of loaf sugar; sift this, and put it away in a stoppered bottle.
Ginger Sugar.
Pound two ounces of ground ginger with one pound of loaf sugar, and finish as above.
Quotation for the Day.
Confectionary is the poetry of epicurism it throws over the heavy enjoyments of the table the relief of a milder indulgence, and dispenses the delights of a lighter and more harmless gratification of the appetite.
The Complete Confectioner, Pastry-Cook, and Baker; Parkinson, (1864)
Flavoured salt is currently quite fashionable. As the fashion for it inevitably wanes (perhaps it is already trending towards passé?), perhaps we should rediscover flavoured sugar? Of course, we all recycle our slightly-used vanilla beans into a jar of sugar, don’t we? And I have come across lemon sugar as a topping for cookies too, but surely there are more ideas?
I recently came across a sentence in Richard Burton’s The Book of the Thousand Nights and a Night, (1882) which gave me the idea:
“So they waited until Obayd had eaten his fill and washed his hands and drunk coffee and sherbets of sugar flavoured with musk and ambergris.”
Doesn’t that sound wonderful? We have come across ambergris before in this blog, in recipes for negus and almond pudding, but it is not available in my local supermarket or delicatessen, so I cannot make ambergris sugar (I am thinking flavoured sugars might make nice Christmas gifts). There are references to ‘sugar of roses’ and ‘sugar of violets’ being purchased by the nobleman Earl Clare, in 1275, for a total of 27 shillings – an enormous sum in those days – but I have no garden. Cinnamon sugar for cinnamon toast is nice, but not interesting. What else is there?
From The Royal English and Foreign Confectioner, by Queen Victoria’s chef Charles Elmé Francatelli (1862), I give you these ideas:
Clove Sugar.
Dry two ounces of cloves and pound them with one pound of loaf sugar in the manner prescribed in the foregoing number.
Orange-Flower Sugar.
Pound four ounces of candied orange flowers with one pound of loaf sugar; sift this, and put it away in a stoppered bottle.
Ginger Sugar.
Pound two ounces of ground ginger with one pound of loaf sugar, and finish as above.
Quotation for the Day.
Confectionary is the poetry of epicurism it throws over the heavy enjoyments of the table the relief of a milder indulgence, and dispenses the delights of a lighter and more harmless gratification of the appetite.
The Complete Confectioner, Pastry-Cook, and Baker; Parkinson, (1864)
Monday, May 03, 2010
Sherry Therapy
Last week I gave you a recipe for a treacle posset intended as a remedy for a cold. The source was Cookery for Invalids: Persons of Delicate Digestion, and for Children by Mary Hooper, published in London in 1876. I want to refer to this book again today, because it is a wonderfully refreshing home medical text for the era, for one particular reason.
The author is clearly in favour of alcohol for medicinal purposes – and not just any old alcohol. She stresses the importance of the lady of the house developing her palate for wine in order to ascertain its quality and avoid being cheated by dealers - if wine is a ‘necessity’ for her family.
If you like her attitude on wine in general, I am sure you will like her specific thoughts on champagne – and so true and important I fell they are that I hope to immortalise them by using them in the Quotation for the Day, which you will find, as usual, at the end of this post.
The author recommends weak brandy and water ‘as without doubt the safest and best beverage for persons of delicate digestion’. She also gives a recipe for ‘Orange Tonic’ which is essentially brandy infused for a month with the peel of Seville oranges, and which can be used to add value to a glass of sherry or claret cup! She also suggests brandy be added to egg-drinks, gruel, wine jelly, tapioca jelly, and custard cream.
Today, however, I want to share with you a selection of Mary Hooper’s recipes which use sherry. Naturally she adds sherry to various puddings and drinks as well as wine jelly. I particularly like the idea of her sweet Sherry Macaroni – it might be just the thing next time I feel a bit poorly.
Sherry Macaroni
Break half an ounce of best Italian macaroni into a quarter of a pint of sherry mixed with a quarter of a pint of water ; let it boil until it is tender and has absorbed the liquid. It can then be served dusted over with sifted sugar, mixed with a pinch of ground cinnamon, or be made into a pudding in the same manner as rice custard pudding.
Sherry Sponge Pudding.
Put two penny sponge-cakes into a buttered tart dish, pour over them a wineglassful of sherry, let them stand until the wine is absorbed. Boil half a pint of milk with two or three lumps of sugar, beat an egg up with it, pour it over the cakes, and bake in a slow oven until the custard is set, when turn out, and serve.
Quotation for the Day.
First class champagne is expensive, but when it is necessary must be looked upon as medicine, which nobody dreams of as getting second or third rate.
Cookery for Invalids: Persons of Delicate Digestion, and for Children; Mary Hooper, 1876
The author is clearly in favour of alcohol for medicinal purposes – and not just any old alcohol. She stresses the importance of the lady of the house developing her palate for wine in order to ascertain its quality and avoid being cheated by dealers - if wine is a ‘necessity’ for her family.
“Port and Sherry are costly wines, and it is difficult to procure them genuine; indeed, much sold under these names are chemical compositions or vile adulterations, and so uneducated is the public taste that it accepts anything described by the vendors as Port or Sherry. Ladies are very much at the mercy of unscrupulous merchants, and will do well to avoid advertising firms, and still better, if wine is a necessity for themselves or their families, to acquire a correct taste and judgment in the matter.”
If you like her attitude on wine in general, I am sure you will like her specific thoughts on champagne – and so true and important I fell they are that I hope to immortalise them by using them in the Quotation for the Day, which you will find, as usual, at the end of this post.
The author recommends weak brandy and water ‘as without doubt the safest and best beverage for persons of delicate digestion’. She also gives a recipe for ‘Orange Tonic’ which is essentially brandy infused for a month with the peel of Seville oranges, and which can be used to add value to a glass of sherry or claret cup! She also suggests brandy be added to egg-drinks, gruel, wine jelly, tapioca jelly, and custard cream.
Today, however, I want to share with you a selection of Mary Hooper’s recipes which use sherry. Naturally she adds sherry to various puddings and drinks as well as wine jelly. I particularly like the idea of her sweet Sherry Macaroni – it might be just the thing next time I feel a bit poorly.
Sherry Macaroni
Break half an ounce of best Italian macaroni into a quarter of a pint of sherry mixed with a quarter of a pint of water ; let it boil until it is tender and has absorbed the liquid. It can then be served dusted over with sifted sugar, mixed with a pinch of ground cinnamon, or be made into a pudding in the same manner as rice custard pudding.
Sherry Sponge Pudding.
Put two penny sponge-cakes into a buttered tart dish, pour over them a wineglassful of sherry, let them stand until the wine is absorbed. Boil half a pint of milk with two or three lumps of sugar, beat an egg up with it, pour it over the cakes, and bake in a slow oven until the custard is set, when turn out, and serve.
Quotation for the Day.
First class champagne is expensive, but when it is necessary must be looked upon as medicine, which nobody dreams of as getting second or third rate.
Cookery for Invalids: Persons of Delicate Digestion, and for Children; Mary Hooper, 1876
Friday, April 23, 2010
Portugal Cakes.
On this day in 1739, the celebrated “pastry-master”, cookery teacher and cookbook writer Edward Kidder died at the age of seventy-three. In spite of the centuries between us, I am quite fond of Edward. His book Receipts of Pastry for the Use of his Scholars published in London in about 1720) was one of the first historical cookery books that I looked at in any detail – indeed I laboriously transcribed the text from the scanned images of the pages of the version (apparently laboriously copied by a student) held at the University of Pennsylvania. You can still read my transcript here.
Kidder ran two schools in London, and he also gave private lessons in pastry-making and cookery to ladies in their own homes. It is said that over six thousand ladies benefitted from his instruction in cookery – which presumably meant that six thousand entire families were made happier.
If Mr. Kidder personally taught all lessons at his school, then he must have been a very busy man: the frontispiece of one edition of his book reads:
“To all young ladies, at Edward Kidder’s pastry-school in Little Lincoln’s Inn Fields, are taught all sorts of pastry and cookery, Dutch hollow-works, and butter-works, on Thursdays, Fridays, Saturdays, in the afternoon; and on the same days in the morning, at his school in Norris-Street, in St James’s Haymarket; and at his school in St. Martin’s le Grand, on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, in the afternoon.”
I have no idea what “Dutch hollow-works” are – so methinks I have another topic for the near future.
For the recipe of the day, I give you Edward Kidder’s Portugall Cakes, from the transcription of the student copy. ‘Portugal’ (or portyngalle) was another term for oranges in England from at least the sixteenth century, so perhaps these cakes were so called because of their golden colour? They were also sometimes called Heart Cakes, which is why the instructions call for a ‘hart pan’ in the recipe below.
Portugall Cakes
Put a pd of fine sugar & a pd of fresh butter 5 eggs & a little beaten mace into a flatt pan beat it up wth yor hands till tis very leight & looks curdling yn put thereto a pd of flower ½ a pd of currants very clean pickt &dryd beat yn together fill yor hart pan & bake ym in a slack oven
You may make seed cakes ye same way only put carraway seeds instead of currants
Quotation for the Day.
Eat butter first, and eat it last, and live till a hundred years be past.
Old Dutch proverb
Kidder ran two schools in London, and he also gave private lessons in pastry-making and cookery to ladies in their own homes. It is said that over six thousand ladies benefitted from his instruction in cookery – which presumably meant that six thousand entire families were made happier.
If Mr. Kidder personally taught all lessons at his school, then he must have been a very busy man: the frontispiece of one edition of his book reads:
“To all young ladies, at Edward Kidder’s pastry-school in Little Lincoln’s Inn Fields, are taught all sorts of pastry and cookery, Dutch hollow-works, and butter-works, on Thursdays, Fridays, Saturdays, in the afternoon; and on the same days in the morning, at his school in Norris-Street, in St James’s Haymarket; and at his school in St. Martin’s le Grand, on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, in the afternoon.”
I have no idea what “Dutch hollow-works” are – so methinks I have another topic for the near future.
For the recipe of the day, I give you Edward Kidder’s Portugall Cakes, from the transcription of the student copy. ‘Portugal’ (or portyngalle) was another term for oranges in England from at least the sixteenth century, so perhaps these cakes were so called because of their golden colour? They were also sometimes called Heart Cakes, which is why the instructions call for a ‘hart pan’ in the recipe below.
Portugall Cakes
Put a pd of fine sugar & a pd of fresh butter 5 eggs & a little beaten mace into a flatt pan beat it up wth yor hands till tis very leight & looks curdling yn put thereto a pd of flower ½ a pd of currants very clean pickt &dryd beat yn together fill yor hart pan & bake ym in a slack oven
You may make seed cakes ye same way only put carraway seeds instead of currants
Quotation for the Day.
Eat butter first, and eat it last, and live till a hundred years be past.
Old Dutch proverb
Tuesday, March 09, 2010
Time for Elevenses.
Our quest for an increase in the number of daily meals continues, with inspiration and assistance from history. After our ‘dewbit’, first breakfast, and second breakfast, we have a serious choice: do we have ‘brunch’ or ‘elevenses’ before luncheon ? Brunch seems more of an idle, weekend affair, whereas ‘elevenses’ is for the working day, so perhaps we had better stick with the latter, it being Tuesday and all.
‘Elevenses’ (‘elevensies’ if you are a Hobbit, or a non-Hobbit with a penchant for puerile language) refers, as the word itself suggests, to food taken at eleven in the morning. Actually, the word applies not to the mere snack itself, but to the whole concept of a brief, healing pause in the crisis of the day. It is peculiarly British, and is rather more significant than its common definition of “a light informal snack” would suggest. It is, in fact, an institution, an inviolable right, a routine without which the British could not (would refuse to) continue with their working day. (Note to any country considering invading Britain: do it at eleven a.m. when everyone’s attention is focused elsewhere.)
Alan Davidson, in his wonderful Oxford Companion to Food, dates the origin of the word to the late eighteenth century. I have been unable to find any references before the early nineteenth century, but I do not pretend the wisdom and brilliance of the great man, so you must be content with my findings for now. The word (concept) sometimes appears as ‘elevens’ or ‘eleveners’, and there are certainly references in the 1830’s to ‘elevenses’. I was delighted to find that once upon a time there was also ‘fourses’ (or fourzes) - another lost meal to add to our collection – a similar snack and break from toil taken at that hour of the afternoon. From the OED:
1849 W. & H. RAYNBIRD Agric. Suffolk vi. 296 The name ‘fourzes’ and ‘elevens’, given to these short periods of rest and refreshment, show when taken.
Tea is essential to ‘elevenses’. Only Americans and other foreigners take coffee. The tea is accompanied by a sweet biscuit (a ‘cookie’ if you are an American) – not one of a novel or gimmicky nature, please, but a reliable and comfortingly familiar classic. Here is one such example for you, from Cassell’s Dictionary of Cookery (1870’s)
Ginger Biscuits.
Rub four ounces of fresh butter into half a pound of flour, and add three table-spoonfuls of sugar, half an ounce of ground ginger, and one egg beaten up with a little milk, into a smooth paste. Make up into small round biscuits, and bake on buttered paper for eight or ten minutes; leave a little distance between each cake.
Quotation for the Day.
It is more fun to talk with someone who doesn't use long, difficult words but rather short, easy words like "What about lunch?
Winnie-the-Pooh.
‘Elevenses’ (‘elevensies’ if you are a Hobbit, or a non-Hobbit with a penchant for puerile language) refers, as the word itself suggests, to food taken at eleven in the morning. Actually, the word applies not to the mere snack itself, but to the whole concept of a brief, healing pause in the crisis of the day. It is peculiarly British, and is rather more significant than its common definition of “a light informal snack” would suggest. It is, in fact, an institution, an inviolable right, a routine without which the British could not (would refuse to) continue with their working day. (Note to any country considering invading Britain: do it at eleven a.m. when everyone’s attention is focused elsewhere.)
Alan Davidson, in his wonderful Oxford Companion to Food, dates the origin of the word to the late eighteenth century. I have been unable to find any references before the early nineteenth century, but I do not pretend the wisdom and brilliance of the great man, so you must be content with my findings for now. The word (concept) sometimes appears as ‘elevens’ or ‘eleveners’, and there are certainly references in the 1830’s to ‘elevenses’. I was delighted to find that once upon a time there was also ‘fourses’ (or fourzes) - another lost meal to add to our collection – a similar snack and break from toil taken at that hour of the afternoon. From the OED:
1849 W. & H. RAYNBIRD Agric. Suffolk vi. 296 The name ‘fourzes’ and ‘elevens’, given to these short periods of rest and refreshment, show when taken.
Tea is essential to ‘elevenses’. Only Americans and other foreigners take coffee. The tea is accompanied by a sweet biscuit (a ‘cookie’ if you are an American) – not one of a novel or gimmicky nature, please, but a reliable and comfortingly familiar classic. Here is one such example for you, from Cassell’s Dictionary of Cookery (1870’s)
Ginger Biscuits.
Rub four ounces of fresh butter into half a pound of flour, and add three table-spoonfuls of sugar, half an ounce of ground ginger, and one egg beaten up with a little milk, into a smooth paste. Make up into small round biscuits, and bake on buttered paper for eight or ten minutes; leave a little distance between each cake.
Quotation for the Day.
It is more fun to talk with someone who doesn't use long, difficult words but rather short, easy words like "What about lunch?
Winnie-the-Pooh.
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