HFF 6.26: Party Time!

The Challenge: Party Time! Celebrate completing the challenge year by making a dish suitable for a party.

The Recipe: Lemon peel, to candy from The Cook's Own Book

Take some lemon peels, and clean them well from the pulp, and let them lay two days in salt and water; then scald and drain them dry; then boil them in a thin sirup till they look quite clear. After which take them out and have ready a thick sirup made with fine loaf sugar; put them into it and simmer them till the sugar-candies about the pan and peels. Then lay them separately on a hair sieve to drain strew sifted sugar over them and set them to dry in a slow oven.

[My favorite winter cakes all call for candied peel, so I'm counting it as a party recipe.]

The Date/Year and Region: 1832, Boston

 

How Did You Make It: I peeled four oranges and four small lemons; I don't remember the specific varieties, but the lemons were a thin-peel type, which wasn't ideal. Being somewhat pressed for time, I only soaked them in salt water for 24 hours; although the instructions don't say to keep the peels cool, I soaked them in a basin in the refrigerator, just to be on the safe side. The next day, I brought the salt water and peels to a boil, poured off the brine, and put the peel in a syrup of  (IIRC) 1 cup sugar to 2 cup water and boiled it again. After removing the peels, I made another syrup, in a proportion of 2 cups sugar to 1 cup water (ratio based on the 'sirup, to clarify' instructions in the same book), and boiled the peel for a third time. When it started getting thick and tacky, I fished out individual pieces of peel, rolled them in more sugar, and spread them on parchment paper on a baking sheet to cool/dry.

 

Time to Complete: A very long evening, and a few minutes prep the day before (really 2 days before).

 

Total Cost: About $5 for the fruit.

 

How Successful Was It?: The the orange peel tastes exactly like those orange-wedge jelly candies, down to the texture. It's uncanny, but also as far as I can tell, the way this is supposed to go. I only scorched a few pieces of peel in the process, so I'm calling it a win.

How Accurate Is It? Better than most of my early attempts where I was zesting the peel, and getting really hard, thin pieces as a result. I ended up guessing a bit on the sugar:water proportions in the syrup (and lost my notes from when I made this back in January before the official challenge window), so I'm not certain about the proportions on the thin syrup, other than that I know it was less than the 1 water : 2 sugar in the thick. Rolling the pieces in loose sugar isn't in the instructions, exactly, but I've found it helpful for keeping the peel from sticking to the parchment paper (or whatever you're drying it on).

Yes, I didn't delete the photo on accident. Like I did with my first write-up.

HFF 6.25: Looking Back

 

The Challenge: Looking Back. Revisit a dish you've made before, whether to correct a mistake, try an alternative variation, or just enjoy it again.

The Recipe: Dessert Biscuits from Beeton's Book of Household Management

I selected this receipt because, despite it being one of my first and most often repeated recipes, I've never written it up fully. Unfortunately, I can't find the photos this time around.

DESSERT BISCUITS, which may be flavoured with Ground Ginger, Cinnamon, &c &c INGREDIENTS--1 lb of flour, 1/2 lb of butter, 1/2 lb of sifted sugar, the yolks of 6 eggs, flavouring to taste. Mode--Put the butter into a basin, warm it but do not allow it to oil, then with the hand beat it to a cream. Add the flour by degrees, then the sugar and flavouring, and moisten the whole with the yolks of the eggs, which should previously be well-beaten. When all the ingredients are thoroughly incorporated, drop the mixture from a spoon on to a buttered paper, leaving a distance between each cake as they spread as soon as they begin to get warm. Bake in rather a slow oven from 12 to 18 minutes and do not let the biscuits acquire too much colour. In making the above quantity half may be flavoured with ground ginger and the other half with essence of lemon or currants to make a variety. With whatever the preparation is flavoured so are the biscuits called, and an endless variety may be made in this manner. Time--12 to 18 minutes or rather longer in a very slow oven. Average cost 1s 6d. Sufficient to make from 3 to 4 dozen cakes. Seasonable at any time.

The Date/Year and Region: 1861, London

 

How Did You Make It: As given (I needed a lot for an event, and so I did a whole batch). I beat 6 eggs in a separate bowl, creamed 8 oz of butter and 8 oz granulated sugar, then added the pound of flour and the eggs. I divided the dough in half, flavoring half with cinnamon and the rest with a handful of currants. I then baked them about 12 minutes per pan at 350F; I ended up with three pans of the biscuits, making a round six dozen.

 

Time to Complete: In the modern kitchen, about an hour (pre-heating the oven while mixing the fough).

 

Total Cost: Pantry stables, so I don't have the numbers ready to hand.

 

How Successful Was It?: Tasty. As usual, these biscuits are a bit denser than most modern cookies but they go very well with tea. The biscuits keep very well, though they can get a little rubbery after a few days in a damp climate. The receipt is easy to remember and lends itself well to improvising flavors. This receipt also once got me a mock marriage proposal from an Abe Lincoln impersonator. 

How Accurate Is It? Revisiting the receipt again, I can see that I'm making my biscuits a little smaller than they are meant to be (almost half the size), but that's also just the size I like them. While I've made them before on a fire, all mixed by hand, this time I used my stand mixer and electric oven. It's easier, but not materially different in outcome--more important was probably the fact that I was working in a climate-controlled room; having made these biscuits in an unheated replica building during the winter, I will say that it is a lot harder to mix the dough when the butter won't warm up.

 

HFF 6.24: Beverages

The Challenge: Beverages. Make something to drink.

The Recipe: Claret cup from Lady Elinor Fettisplace's Receipt Book

To Make Claret Wine Water
Take a Quarte of strong aquavitae, as much of goode Claret wine, a pound of the beste sugar, beat yr sugar small, then powre the wine and the aquavitae to the sugar and stir the sugar and the wine togather untill yr sugar be dissolved, then ad to it whigt pep, ginger, nuttmegg, large Mace, Red jylloflwers...put some bruised Cloves therein when you put in the other spices.

The Date/Year and Region: 1604 or later, English

 

How Did You Make It: I scaled this down to just a cup each of wine and brandy, using a merlot for the claret since I couldn't find anything closer at the store (claret can refer to any red wine from Bordeaux). Being on a 1/4 scale, I used 4 oz of granulated white sugar. The spices don't have specific quanitites involved, so I guessed: a generous dash of powdered mace, 3 white peppercorns, 3 cloves, a 1/2" piece of ginger, and about four gratings of nutmeg. I bruised the pepper and cloves in a mortar and coarsely chopped the ginger,

 

Time to Complete: About five minutes, though letting the spices steep for 1-2 days improved the flavor.

 

Total Cost: In the $5-$10 range. I don't recall the exact prices and was only using a small fraction of each ingredient.

 

How Successful Was It?: Better with time. On the first day, it mostly tasted like wine with a bit of burn from the brandy and some mixed spice flavor; after sitting two days, the ginger flavor came through better and the sugar cut a bit of the burning. 

I tried mixing this with hot water (like the Irish cordial), and while the beverage was nice warm, a 50-50 mixture with water made it taste thin and faint (though it still burned a bit). I'd be tempted in the future to add warmed wine instead of water for cutting this with (or just using a higher proportion of wine to brandy in the first place).

How Accurate Is It? I could have worked harder to find a bordeaux, but I think brandy was a reasonable approximation for aquavitae (which the editor's notes indicated to a "neat spirit" distilled from wine or beer). While I didn't notice any grittiness, I expect the texture could be improved by find whole mace and crushing rather than grating the nutmeg, but given the spices available to me, I don't expect I'll be able to try that.

Served in a cordial glass because that's fun.

 

HFF 6.23: Sweets for the Sweet

 

The Challenge: Sweets for the Sweet. Make something sweet!

The Recipe: Great Cake (12th Night Cake) from Elinor Fettisplace's Receipt Book (edited by Hilary Spurling)

The Date/Year and Region: c.1590, English

 

How Did You Make It: I followed the modern 'translation', which primarily is a 1/8 reduced scale version of the given ingredients (the main difference is that no specific quantity is given for the sugar in the original). I started by weighing out the flour, adding the ginger, cinnamon and dried currants, then making a 'posset' with ale and milk and sugar, and starting the yeast in that. After the yeast proofed, I combined the dry and wet ingredients, kneaded the dough, and left it rise for an hour. After beating down the dough, I shaped it into individual rolls, and let those rise for an hour, then baked at 350F for about 30 minutes.

 

Time to Complete: With rise time, about 4 hours.

 

Total Cost: About $5 for the currants and beer; everything else on hand.

 

How Successful Was It?: Fine. It tasted like cinnamon raisin bread, but not all that sweet. Compared to the later Twelfth Cake recipes I've tried, this one was much more bread-like in texture, as well as being much less sweet, and having much less fruit. Which is to say, it made tasty rolls which kept well, but comes across as rather lacking for a cake. I was hoping to make this for a 16th century Twelfth Night party, and now I'm rethinking whether I should use a 19th century recipe instead. At the very least, I think that adding the rosewater-sugar glaze that the editor suggests (from Lady Elinor's marchpane receipt) would make it a bit more sweet and festive, though I'm tempted to add more sugar and/or some honey to the cake itself to make it sweeter.

How Accurate Is It? The historic instructions and modern ones are very similar, save only that the modern ones specify a particularly (small) amount of sugar should be added to the yeast posset, where the historic version just calls for 'some' sugar near the end of the recipe. I read it as rather ambiguous about whether the sugar goes in/on the cake near the end of the process, or if it's meant to be feeding the year from the outset. I did use a 2:1 ratio of ale to milk, simply because I didn't have any use for the leftovers; this didn't cause the cake to have a noticeable ale-flavor or aroma, so I think it was inconsequential. I did intentionally make this up as 12 smaller individual servings rather than a single great cake, but that was purely for ease of serving at my Lord of the Rings party.

The only frame of reference I have for early modern Twelfth Cake is Ruth Goodman's version from Tudor Monastery Farm, and while hers is likewise more of an enriched bread with fruit and spice than it is a modern cake, I don't know enough about her sources to make a definite judgement.

Adequate, if not 'great', cakes

HFF 6.21: Comfort Food

 

The Challenge: Comfort Food. The opposite of challenge #20. Try a historic version of your favorite comfort food, or a new receipt that uses techniques/tools/ingredients that you are comfortable working with.

The Recipe: Gingerbread. I've made different versions for many, many HFF challenges (including my first ever, and last year's "comfort food" challenge), but this year decided to improve my historic technique while also making a classic treat for the holidays.

I used the "all at once" Gingerbread V recipe from The Dictionary of Practical Receipts:

 V. Flour and treacle, of each 1 lb., butter 1 oz., carbonate of magnesia 1 oz., powdered ginger and cinnamon, of each 1 drachm, grated nutmeg 1/2 oz., let it be baked after having been made about four hours. This is for thin gingerbread; if for thick you must add more flour so as to make the paste stiffer.

Since I'm working on the method and shape here, I also consulted with The Complete Biscuit and Gingerbread Baker's Assistant (1854)

The Date/Year and Region: 1857, London

How Did You Make It: I started by weighing out 1 lb of molasses (substituting for treacle), which amounted to 8-10 fl oz judging by the apparent volume left in the container. I mixed this with 1 lb of all purpose flour, while adding the spices (1.5 tsp each of ginger and cinnamon, 2 tsp nutmeg). I then dissolved 1 oz of baker's ammonia aka hartshorn aka ammonium carbonate (substituting for the magnesium carbonate in the menu, since that's one of the few old-style chemical leaveners I didn't have on hand) in a cup of cold water, and added it to the dough. I set the mixed dough in the refrigerator for about 12 hours (not 4, since I had to go to work); later, I rolled it out to ~3/16" thick with just enough flour to keep it from sticking, then stamped and cut into small cakes, pricked with a fork, brushed with melted butter, and baked at 350F for 10 minutes.

 

[Powdered spices tend to run about 4-5 Tbsp per oz. Here I used 4 Tbsp/oz, so 1 drachm = 1/8 oz ~ 1.5 tsp ginger & cinnamon; 1/2 oz= 2 tbsp nutmeg

 

Time to Complete: About 15 minutes to mix up, another 10 to prep, and 30 minutes to bake the three pans, in addition to the hours of waiting-time.

 

Total Cost: I spent about $3 on the molasses, though I actually had everything else on hand.

 

How Successful Was It?: Softer than the other batch of molasses gingerbread that I made with pearlash. The reproduction stamp I used didn't give as clear as a picture as I'd hoped (weirdly enough, the forks holes that was almost invisible when made stood out after baking, while the stamped design flattened to almost nothing). I noticed a bitter aftertaste which I attributed to the hartshorn, though everyone else who tried it either denied the taste or attributed it to the molasses (in which case I would have expected it in the pearlash batch as well, where I didn't notice it). I was actually worried that the texture and bitterness would make these unsuitable, but three people still voluntarily asked to try it, and then proceeded to take the extras home. Apparently, it tastes a lot like various grandmothers' German cookies.

How Accurate Is It? I switched the leavener, though at least to one that was available (if falling rapidly out of fashion) at the time; the extra waiting time was another intentional departure, which doesn't appear to have hurt the final result. I used a replica resin springerle mold (a sleigh scene, allegedly copied from an 1830s original) and a tin cutter sized to it. Letting the dough rest was the real important part of this experiment: it transformed the sticky batter into a very familiar kind of cookie dough, and rolling it thin produced a far superior (as well as better documented) final product. As embarrassing as it is to admit, I've basically been making gingerbread wrong for years, because the waiting/rolling/cutting steps were not spelled out in the first recipes I tried.

Also, I've now got a group that wants to run some parallel experiments comparing early chemical leaveners, which sounds like a lot of fun.

Not sure why the photo rotated like that...

HFF 6.22: Remember, Remember

The Challenge: Remember, Remember. It may not be November 5, but try cooking a dish from minimal instructions. Or try a dish that would be easy to memorize. 

The Recipe: Cucumbers "en salade" from Eliza Acton's Modern Cookery for Private Families.

TOMATAS EN SALADE
These are now often served in England in the American fashion merely sliced and dressed like cucumbers with salt pepper oil and vinegar.

The Date/Year and Region: 1845 (4th edition), London

 

How Did You Make It: I peeled and sliced two cucumbers, added a small splash of vinegar, drizzle of olive oil (aka "salad oil"), and a dash each of salt and pepper.

 

Time to Complete: Not more than five minutes.

 

Total Cost: Home-grown cucumbers, and only a token amount of pantry staples, so I don't have a cost estimate.

 

How Successful Was It?: Tasted like fresh cucumber with a hint of vinegar. I think a little more olive oil and salt wouldn't go amiss, since I didn't really notice them changing the flavor, but overall this was a refreshing dish, and simple to make. I will definitely use it again, especially in late summer when I have a surplus of cucumbers and tomatoes.

How Accurate Is It? I used a modern variety of cucumber, since I couldn't find heirloom cucumber starts for my garden, but otherwise I think I followed the recipe. Or description.

Cucumbers left center, in front of Quin's standing pie.

[I technically made it ahead of the challenge window, because I had a event for which I needed an easy-to-transport savory dish in early November and also needed to use the last two cucumbers from my summer garden while they were still fresh. I nearly made this with the last of my tomatoes as well, but they were just a little too soft when I went to prepare them. By coincidence, this was actually on November 5.]

HFF 6.20: Fear Factor

The Challenge: Fear Factor. Try making a dish with an ingredient, technique, or other element goes a little outside your comfort zone (including an era or cuisine you're less familiar with). Or make a recipe with a spooky name.

The Recipe: Deviled Biscuits from Maria Rundell's A New System of Domestic Cookery

Devilled Biscuits--Butter captain's biscuits on both sides, and pepper them well; make a slice of cheese into a paste with made mustard, and lay it on upon one side; sprinkle cayenne pepper on the top, and send them to be grilled. This may be varied by the addition of chopped anchovies, or the essence diavolo paste, or Chetney.

The Date/Year and Region: 1844, Philadelphia

 

How Did You Make It: I started with the Captain's Biscuit, which posed a problem in that there appear to be at least two different versions of this item: one thin and hard (possibly like a cracker or hardtack) and the other a bit thicker and able to be split for serving. The Complete Biscuit and Gingerbread Baker's Assistant (1854) was particularly useful for spelling this out, though as its instructions are given for professional kitchens, I decided to instead follow the recipe in Cassell's Dictionary of Cookery (1896), which is better suited for me to make at home on a small scale:

Captain's Biscuits.--Put a pinch of salt with as much flour as may be required, and make it into a paste with a little new milk. Knead it thoroughly till it is firm and stiff, then divide it into balls, and form into cakes about a quarter of an inch in thickness. Prick them with a fork, and bake for about fifteen minutes.

For this, I used 1 cup of all-purpose flour, added a sprinkle of salt (<1/8 tsp), and then just enough milk to make the dough (1/3 cup). I kneaded this by hand, divided it into six pieces, rolled each into a ball, and then flattened them; despite aiming for 1/4", the biscuits ended up in the 1/4"-1/2" range. I baked these the suggested 15 minutes 350F, and let biscuits cool.

I then buttered and sprinkled pepper on both sides of each biscuit. I cut one piece of cheese per biscuit and crushed/mixed each with some mustard. I applied the cheese to the biscuits, sprinkled cayenne over the whole, and put them back in the over for another 5 minutes at 400F.

The type of cheese wasn't specified, so I ended up grabbing all the left-overs from craft night, and make one biscuit with each of: white cheddar, brie, tuscano with black pepper, rosemary asiago, smoked gouda, and double gloucester with chives. I also used some leftover modern (from a can) basic biscuits to test whether this recipe works better with a thick biscuit than a thinner one. It's not a true thick captain's biscuit, but I thought it would be a useful point of comparison in case I decide to make these again. Also, melted cheese on bread is delicious in general.

Time to Complete: A couple hours, since I was waiting for the biscuits I baked to cool. If one had left-over biscuits and an already-hot oven, I'd put it at closer to 5 minutes prep and 5-10 cooking time.

 

Total Cost: About $2, though it's hard to say at this small of scale.

 

How Successful Was It? The homemade biscuits were edible, just a bit bland, and also not quite crisp. I think I need to get them much thinner (truly 1/4" or less) and also probably cook them at a higher temperature. A touch more salt might be nice, too. I erred low on the temperature since I knew they'd  be getting cooked twice, but I wouldn't go that route again. The ready-mades had a lot more flavor (butter and salt), but also felt like they needed to be crispier, so I think the second bake-standing-in-for-grilling should also be done at more of a broil. I went 400F this time because I was leaning that way, but I think it needs either to go up to 425F and/or to go more than 5 minutes. Maybe I'll try 10 at 400F next time.

 

All of the cheeses ended up edible, despite my misgivings. Not all of them mashed well or melted nicely, and some imparted more of their own flavor than others. I also ended up using more mustard in some, which meant some tasted like mustard other more like the cheese, and a combination of the two. The gloucester mashed easiest of all and also melted nicely; perhaps because of this, I used a little less mustard and the biscuit tasted mostly of the cheese. The brie also mashed and melted fairly well, and had a mellower taste, which made the mustard more prominent. The smoked gouda was hard to work with, but some of the smokey flavor came through, which was very tasty. Both the tuscano and asiago cheeses were pretty low-key, and blended well into the overall biscuit, even with their extra flavoring agents. The cheddar was perfectly serviceable and melted ok; it was the one I had assumed would work best, but compared to the others it didn't stand out taste-wise. Overall, I'd rate this as another yummy Welsh-rarebit-type recipe, but something about the cracker base makes it seem like a fancy finger food, which could be useful.

How Accurate Is It? The grilling step in the major change: I had to switch to broiling, which honestly ended up more like baking. The ship's biscuits were not the hardtack disaster I expected, and with some practice I think they could get quite serviceable for when I want to make a more accurate deviled biscuit. I've already explained the cheese and biscuits, which were more experiments than not. For the made mustard, I used a plain yellow prepared mustard.

Not all the cheeses mashed easily.

Devilled Biscuits.

HFF 6.19: Soups and Stews

The Challenge: Soups & Stews. Make a soup, stew, broth, or anything served in a bowl.

The Recipe: Escalloped Parsnips from Dr. Chase's Third, Last, and Complete Receipt Book and Home Physician (I'm counting it, since it was in the middle of a bunch of stew recipes, and I also served it in a bowl.)

The Date/Year and Region: 1890, Detroit, Michigan/Windsor, Ontario

 

How Did You Make It: Half scale. I started by peeling, and boiling 10 or so small parnsips until they were tender; mashed, they yielded a generous cup. To this I added 1 Tbsp of unsalted butter, 1 Tbsp 2% milk, 1/2 tsp salt, and a dash of pepper, and mixed it all well with a wooden spoon. I tried putting the mixture back on the stovetop to bubble, but it was already so thick that I gave that up in short order--the texture and consistency was comparable to nice mashed potatoes. I buttered a glass oven-safe bowl, put in the mashed parsnip, sprinkled it with plain breadcrumbs, and dotted small pieces of butter over the top. I baked it at 325F for about 13 minutes.

 

Time to Complete: Around 45 minutes, since I started the water boiling while I peeled the parsnips, and cut them small so they'd cook quickly.

 

Total Cost: Parnsips were out of my garden, and the rest of the ingredients are pantry staples or left over from other dishes, so I don't have figures to hand.

 

How Successful Was It?: Tasty. The butter/milk/salt/pepper proportions make a nice, rich mashed parsnip with a good texture. I don't generally care for crust on soft foods, so I was a little scant on the breadcrumbs. If making this for someone else, I'd probably aim for a crisper, more golden crust (not only using more bread crumbs, but also baking at a slightly higher temperature or for a longer time). While it tastes fine as is, I think there's some potential to experiment with different seasonings, particularly in the crust.

How Accurate Is It? Made on an electric stove/oven, and with purchased bread crumbs, so there were a lot of modern short-cuts. I don't think most of these affected the flavor of the final dish, though the choice of baking dish certainly didn't give it's appearance any old-fashioned charm. I did use heirloom parsnips that I grew myself, which is always gratifying.

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HFF 6.18: Cake

 

The Challenge: Cake. Make a cake or cakes!

The Recipe: Very fine cocoa-nut macaroons from Eliza Acton's Modern Cookery for Private Families.

VERY FINE COCOA NUT MACAROONS
Rasp a fresh cocoa nut, spread it on a dish or tin, and let it dry gradually for a couple of days, if it can be done conveniently; add to it double its weight of fine sifted sugar, and the whites of eight eggs beaten to a solid froth (see page 543), to the pound. Roll the mixture into small balls, place them on a buttered tin, and bake them in a very gentle oven about twenty minutes. Move them from the tin while they are warm and store them in a very dry canister as soon as they are cold.
Cocoa nut, 1/2 lb; sugar, 1 lb; whites of eggs, 8; very gentle oven 20 minutes.

This is in the cakes chapter, so I think it counts.

The Date/Year and Region: 1845 (4th edition), London

 

How Did You Make It: 1/4 Scale. This recipe is really nice for that. The ratios work out neatly to 1 oz coconut and 2 oz sugar per egg white. 

 

I beat two egg whites to stiff peaks, and then added the 2oz coconut and 4 oz granulated sugar. I used a pre-heated (but turned off) oven as the "very gentle oven" and baked them 20 minutes, then a further 10 minutes since the were still sticky (though at this point the oven was quite cool so any future cooking times will likely be less than the aggregate 30 minutes here).

 

Time to Complete: Ten minutes prep, plus baking time.

 

Total Cost: About $1 at this scale.

 

How Successful Was It?: Tasted fine, though they were still a little under-cooked in the centers. Will definitely try again (and remember how to persuade my oven into actually holding at 180F, which seems the better way to cook meringues). It's very similar to Beeton's meringue recipe, with the coconut providing a nice flavor variation.

How Accurate Is It? Modern shortcuts (pre-shredded coconut and electric mixer) made this a quick and easy recipe. Without those, it would be much more labor intensive.

HFF 6.17: Saucy

Finally getting caught up on the actual challenges...

The Challenge: Saucy: Make a sauce or condiment.

The Recipe: Boiled Parsnip with White Sauce, as featured in Gardening Illustrated

The Date/Year and Region: 1885, London

 

How Did You Make It: Half-scale: 3 good-sized parsnips, half a cup of milk, half a dessert-spoon (~1 tsp) flour, half a small lump (~1/2 tsp) of sugar, a piece of butter half the size of an egg (~4 Tbsp), a dash each of pepper and salt. 

 

I cleaned the parsnips (though I couldn't get all the dirt out of them), and put them to boil in a little salt water. When those were done, I started the sauce by melting the butter, adding the flour, stirring it all well, then adding the milk, and bringing the sauce up to a boil. At that point I added the sugar, salt, and pepper, then cut the parsnips into ~1" pieces and stirred them into the sauce. 

 

Measurement notes: I took a "lump of sugar" in the original instructions as about the size of a sugar cube (4 g) or 1 tsp granulated sugar. A dessert spoon, per my favorite "Domestic Measures" list in A System of Practical Medicine (1842) is supposed to equal 2 drachms, (and thus, two teaspoons, at least when dealing with water).

Time to Complete: About 10 minutes on the sauce; I didn't time the parsnips boiling.

 

Total Cost: Everything on hand and/or out of the garden.

 

How Successful Was It?: Pretty tasty. Could probably use just a touch more salt, but I found this a perfectly tasty parsnip dish. I appreciate that it gives me another way to prepare them, and particularly to make something that looks a bit fancier for serving at table. The boiling and the sauce took a little of the bite out of the parsnips. From the amount of sauce, I suspect the parsnips I chose were a little on the small side, and that I should have used the largest ones to get a higher vegetable-to-sauce ratio. However, there were still some tough bits at the center of the widest parts of the parsnips, so that's something to keep in mind. I think it would be easier to do this dish by scraping and slicing the parsnips before boiling, and might give that a try next time.

Despite scrubbing and soaking, I couldn't get all the ingrained dirt out of the parsnips, and counted on the scrapping step to finish the job, which it did. Doing so after boiling was a bit different than scrapping or peeling the parsnips before cooking (much like potato skins: they came away readily but also tended to shred).

How Accurate Is It? No major changes to the recipe as written. I think, from how the sauce turned out, that my measurement translations were successful. 

 

Parsnips in White Sauce (1885)

HFF 6.16: Harvest Time

 

The Challenge: Harvest Time. Try a recipe associated with the harvest. [I harvested the salsify from my garden today, so I think that counts.]

The Recipe: Fried (Celery or) Salsify from Miss Leslie's Lady's New Receipt Book:

FRIED CELERY--Take fine large celery, cut it into pieces three or four inches in length, and boil it tender, having seasoned the water with a very little salt. Then drain the pieces well, and lay them separately to cool on a large dish. Make a batter in the proportion of three well-beaten eggs stirred into a pint of rich milk, alternately with half a pint of grated bread crumbs or of sifted flour. Beat the batter very hard after it is all mixed. Put into a hot frying pan a sufficiency of fresh lard, melt it over the fire, and when it comes to a boil, dip each piece of celery twice into the batter, put them into the pan and fry them a light brown. When done, lay them to drain on an inverted sieve with a broad pan placed beneath it. Then dish the fried celery, and send it to table hot. 

Parsnips and salsify (or oyster plant) may be fried in butter according to the above directions. Also the tops of asparagus cut off from the stalk and the white part or blossom of cauliflower. Cold sweet potatoes are very nice peeled, cut into long slips, and fried in this way.

The Date/Year and Region: 1850, Philadelphia

 

How Did You Make It: Not without two notable errors, despite the simple instructions. I started by picking five salsify plants from my garden (mammoth sandwich island salsify, which is the/a white variety). I washed them, cut off the leaves, and peeled the roots, then cut them in half, aiming for 3" pieces, but getting between 2" and 4" pieces. These went directly into the boiling water, to which (first mistake), I forgot to salt. I let them boil while preparing the batter from 1 egg, 2/3 cup milk, and 1/3 cup plain bread crumbs. I melted a couple ounces of lard on the stove (second error: it's lard for the celery, but butter for the salsify), and when it started bubbling, I dipped the salsify twice in the batter, and set it to fry.

 

Fresh out of the garden.

Time to Complete: I wasn't paying attention to the clock, but safely under an hour.

 

Total Cost: Everything was on hand.

 

How Successful Was It?: Not spectacular, but not bad. It was definitely improved with a little salt and pepper (and would be more improved by salting the water, I expect), but mostly just tasted like the-status-of-being-deep-fried-in-lard. Even the largest pieces with the lowest batter to salsify ratio didn't taste much like anything.

I noted the two error above, and if making this again (which I might, simply because there's more salsify in the garden to use), I would salt the water and cook it in butter to see if there's more flavor to be had.

 

As much as I'd like to give this another try, I doubt it's going into my living history rotation. I'd need an autumn event (when the salsify is readily available in the garden) at which I'm serving food hot (this is not going to travel well after being made up in advance), and even then the main interpretive thrust is just that Victorians cooked with a plant called salsify or oyster plant. As far as I've read, the plant's main point of interest is that it's supposed to taste like oyster, though I haven't had the real thing to compare it with. It does remind me of the mock oysters of corn I've previously made, but only in that both taste like deep-fried-breaded-things.

How Accurate Is It? Heritage crop! Aside from the two errors, I'd put this as fairly accurate. No modern substitutions.

Fried salsify with a parsley garnish.

HFF 6.15: Travelling Food

 

The Challenge: Traveling Food. Make a food associated with travel, or something convenient to eat on the go.

The Recipe: Stuffed Eggs (a picnic dish) from Six Little Cooks

The Date/Year and Region: 1891,Chicago

 

How Did You Make It: As directed. I boiled 3 eggs for 15 minutes (well, 4, but one broke). The eggs went into some cold water, so that the shells would come off easily. After peeling the three eggs, I cut them each in half, removed the yolks, and beat the yolks with a spoon. To this mashed yolks, I added 1/8 tsp ground mustard, 1/8 tsp black pepper, and 1/4 tsp salt. [This was a mistake: too much salt.] I then packed the yolk-mixture back into the whites. I cut 6"x6" squares of tissue paper, and fringed two opposite edges on each, then wrapped the paper around the eggs, like a candy or a Christmas cracker.

 

Time to Complete: Ten minutes prep; under a half hour including cooking time.

 

Total Cost: Based on the price of eggs.

 

How Successful Was It?: Tasty and easy, except for the salt. The recipe gives a proportion for the flavoring (equal amounts mustard and black pepper, twice as much salt) but not how many eggs this covers. I just grabbed my smallest teaspoon measure (1/8 tsp), without reflecting that 1/4 tsp salt for three eggs would be excessive. Next time (there will be a next time!), I probably half the salt. Though I'd be tempted to make a 1:1:1 proportion of mustard and pepper, since those were not overpowering (the mustard was barely noticeable at all).

The paper worked best used in a double layer (looks nicer and came off easier), where a single layer started sticking to the egg while not holding the halves together nicely. I'd be tempted to try parchment paper next time (especially if anyone other than me is potentially eating them).

 

How Accurate Is It? As noted, the proportion of salt/pepper/mustard to egg was not given, and thus a guess. I also was speculating on whether the eggs should be cut along the short or long axis, though something about the wording made me think the short axis was meant (even if the story/recipe treats eggs as spherical). 

Stuffed eggs.

HFF 6.14: Waste Not, Want Not

The Challenge: Waste Not, Want Not. Try a dish that reduces waste somehow, such as re-purposing leftovers or using parts of a plant/animal that you wouldn't normally cook.

The Recipe: Rapes in Potage from the Forme of Curry

Take rapus and make hem clene and waissh hem clene. quare hem [2]. parboile hem. take hem up. cast hem in a gode broth and seeþ hem. mynce Oynouns and cast þerto Safroun and salt and messe it forth with powdour douce. the wise [3] make of Pasturnakes [4] and skyrwates. [5]

[1] Rapes, or rapus. Turneps. [2] quare hem. Cut them in squares, or small pieces. V. Gloss. [3] in the wise, i.e. in the same manner. Self or same, seems to be casually omitted. Vide No. 11 and 122. [4] Pasturnakes, for parsnips or carrots. V. Gloss. [5] skyrwates, for skirrits or skirwicks."

Of the "powdour douce", the editor remarks: "In short, I take powder-douce to be either powder of galyngal....or a compound made of sundry aromatic spices ground or beaten small, and kept always ready at hand in some proper receptacle." 

I'm counting this recipe because it involved making a stock out of the vegetable peelings, which felt very efficient.

The Date/Year and Region: c.1390, England

 

How Did You Make It: On a rather large scale. With no set proportions, I ended up searching through multiple modern soup and stew recipes to get an idea of how many vegetables I needed per serving, and opted to try 1/2 parsnip, 1/2 turnip, 1/2 onion, 1 carrot and 1/2 cup stock per person, and then rounding up the total number of people I would be cooking for (20-25 to 30), so make sure there was plenty for everyone. I then ran out of space in my cooking vessels, and so dropped from 1 carrot to 1/2..

 

I started by peeling and slicing the onions, and putting these in a saucepan to brown with a dash of olive oil. I then set about peeling and chopping the parsnips, turnips, and carrots into 1/2" sort-of-cubes. While I worked, I parboiled the turnips, parsnips, and carrots that were already prepared, and threw the peels and odd ends of the vegetables into a stockpot with water, a head of garlic, 5 green onions, 8 marigold flowers, a generous handful of dried rosemary, and nearly a half-gallon (dry) of fresh herbs: mostly parsley, and thyme, with a bit of sage, chives, marjoram, and oregano. The flowers were used in lieu of saffron for color, based on other recipes from this period which use marigold.

 

Once the vegetables were all parboiled, I strained the stock, added the onions, turnips, parsnips, and carrots, and set the pottage to all cook together in my two largest stockpots. I then set about preparing the powder douce, using 1 Tbsp each of ginger, cinnamon, cloves, black pepper, sugar, long pepper, galyngal, nutmeg, and grains of paradise.*  Since I needed to serve this at an event, I then got to cool and refrigerate the mostly-cooked pottage, transport it to the event, and bring it back up to boiling on a fire (campstove) before serving. I made the spice mixture available for each diner to add as much as they desired (generally somewhere between a half and a whole spoonful per bowl).

 

*The book names cinnamon, mace, cloves, galyngal, pepper, long-pepper, ginger, cubebs (?), grains of paradise, nutmeg, and caraway in difference receipts. Last time I made a recipe calling for powder douce, I noted that Wikipedia gives "grains of paradise, ginger, cinnamon, nutmeg, sugar, and galangal" and "ginger, cinnamon, cloves and sugar [+/-galangal and long pepper]" as other options for the powder douce. I liked how the equal proportions of spices worked in my previous use of this seasoning, so I repeated it here.

 

Time to Complete: A long time. At least 4 hours of peeling root vegetables, while the stock boiled and the vegetables parboiled, another half-hour of cooking the pottage all together, and then about a half-hour to re-heat to boiling before serving.

 

Total Cost: $32 for 30-odd servings (which fed some two dozen people with leftovers).

 

How Successful Was It?: No one died, and everyone who commented said they enjoyed it .So, either it was successful, or this was a very polite reenacting crew. Given the option, 100% percent of diners chose to include the spices. The most common remark was comparing it to different east Asian sweet-and-sour dishes. I noticed that the parboiling step removed some of the bite I associate with parsnips and turnips, leaving a mellow but recognizable flavor. The spices suited it quite well--a little odd to me, but perfectly palatable. I recommend serving it with bread.

 

How Accurate Is It? The main departure I made was combining the rapus and pasturnakes (turnips, parsnips, and carrots) rather than making a pottage of only one of them. Following Quin's advice for getting stronger flavor, I added the step of browning the onion in olive oil, which is neither called for nor prohibited in the text. I also used a home-made vegetable stock instead of a "good broth" (which I'm reading as implying bones) in order to make the whole recipe both vegan and gluten-free, which was needed for the particular group. 

 

On the positive side, I think my decision to add the spices at the end fits with the instruction  to "messe it forth with powdour douce", ie, that the spices are to be added when it is served. As far as the year goes, I made this late 14th century recipe for a 16th century event, BUT, it was served to people portraying Queen Elizabeth I's court, and the antiquarian's note claims that this recipe book was once owned by the queen. Which I thought was nice. Also, all of the ingredients are in season--I have turnips, parsnips, onions, and carrots to be harvest from the garden, just not in the quantities needed, while the other herbs did come directly out of the garden.

Side note: I manged to forget to take pictures of the finished product, but here's the in-progress pictures.

Ingredients assembled.

Stock in progress, as every bowl in my kitchen slowly fills with parboiled vegetables.

HFF 6.13: In a Pickle

The Challenge: In a Pickle. Try your hand at preserving food--pickles, jellies, jams, or any method you choose. Alternatively, make a dish that uses preserves as an ingredient.

The Recipe: Pickled Cucumbers from The Domestic Cookery (supplemented by modern canning methods from The Joy of Cooking):

Pickle Cucumbers a Second Way. Gather your cucumbers on a dry day, and put them into a narrow topped pitcher, put to them a head garlic, a few white mustard seeds, and a few blades of mace, half an ounce of black pepper, the same long pepper and ginger, and a good handful of salt into your vinegar; pour it upon your cucumbers boiling hot, set them by the fire, and keep them warm for three days, and boil your alegar once every day; keep them close covered till they are a good green, and then tie them down with a leather, and keep them for use.

The Date/Year and Region: 1847, London

 

How Did You Make It: With some adaptations. For safety reasons, I mostly used this recipe for the flavor profile, with modern canning methods and times. After sanitizing the jars, etc., I washed and dried the cucumbers and cut off the ends of each (and halved the ones that were a little too big to fit in the jars; then heated up the vinegar and salt; packed each jar with as many cucumbers as would fit, as well as a clove of garlic, a few black peppercorns, a long peppercorn, about a dozen mustard seeds, a small pieces of peeled ginger, and a sprinkle of powdered mace (having no source for whole blades); poured the hot vinegar into the heated and packed jars; and processed the jars in a boiling water bath for 15 minutes.

 

Time to Complete: About an hour, not including all the sanitizing steps. A lot of this also involved waiting for more water to boil, so it would have been more efficient to have more jars going at the same time.

 

Total Cost: About $5 for the pickling cucumbers.

 

How Successful Was It?: Haven't tried them yet. All but one of the jars appear to have sealed properly, so I'm counting at a 4/5 successful rate so far.

 

How Accurate Is It? As mentioned above, I used modern jars, hot-packing methods, and processing times instead of letting the pickles heat for three days in a pitcher. However, I decided on the hot-pack because that seemed the closest to the method referenced in the period instructions. The recipe itself does not specify the strength of the salted vinegar, which I again filled in with a modern value: 5% white pickling vinegar, with a tablespoon of pickling salt per pint for flavor. Also, the receipt's vagueness of how many cucumbers fit into "a narrow-topped pitcher" means that the ratio of cucumbers to garlic, mustard, pepper, etc., cannot be as precise as it ought. I therefore made my best guess based on the jar sizes available to me, though I wouldn't be surprised if the spices are meant to be even more concentrated.

Yep. Pickles.

HFF 6.12: Eat Your Vegetables

 

The Challenge: Eat Your Vegetables. Make a dish that incorporated vegetables in some capacity.

Unfortunately, my garden plot's right between vegetable rotations at the moment, so my choices are herbs from the container garden and nasturtium leaves/flowers. Or the world's saddest little lettuce bits (the size smaller than 'micro-greens'). 

The Recipe: Egg Omelette (Another)

 

EGG OMELET--Frisk until light, the whites and yolks of twelve eggs, separately, stir well together with a tablespoonful of cold water, season with pepper and salt. Have about an ounce of butter boiling hot in a frying pan, pour in the mixture, shaking the pan as it browns to prevent it sticking, and turn up the edges all round with a broad bladed knife, and continue to roll over until the whole is brown. Lift on to a meat dish with an eggslice without breaking, and serve hot for breakfast. 

 

Another--To the above quantity of eggs [12], add a handful of fine curled parsely and twelve fresh nasturtium flowers, chopped fine.  

--Pennsylvania Farmer and Gardner, February 1861

The Date/Year and Region: 1861, Philadelphia

How Did You Make It: On a 1/6 scale (2 eggs, 2 nasturtiums, a small handful of parsley). After chopping the plants small, I I followed the first instructions, separating the eggs and beating them, then adding the water, parsley and nasturtium while the butter heated up. I then fried the eggs without turning them, instead lifting the edges and shifting the pan to encourage the liquid to solidify. Reading "meat dish" as "a meat-based dish of food" rather than "a physical dish usually used to serve meat", I finished the omelette by laying it on four small slices of fried bacon.

 

Time to Complete: About 15 minutes.

 

Total Cost: Everything came out of my garden or my friend's chicken coop. Except for the <1 Tbsp butter.

Omelette with parsley and nasturtium (and bacon).

How Successful Was It?: Lovely to look at, with the red and green of the parsley and nasturtium. I really like my eggs cooked through, so I was nervous about not flipping the omelette to cook on the other side, but it did fully solidify. I think the dish could use some salt; looking over the instructions again, I think there's room to interpret the recipe as calling for salt and pepper like the first one, though on my initial read I took it as "substitute parsley and nasturtium for the salt and pepper." I didn't really notice the nasturtium flavor except for one bite, though there was a low-key parsley flavor throughout. Overall, it tasted of egg and looked nice. I think that the water and beating the egg parts separately were meant to make the omelette lighter, but I didn't notice much of a difference over the modern omelettes I've made mixing the whole eggs.  

Despite not seeing much of a difference with separating the eggs, but the parsley and nasturtium do make a pretty variation on a simple egg recipe, and I would consider adding this receipt to my arsenal.

How Accurate Is It? I think I followed the instructions well, and am pleased that I could source home-grown ingredients for this one (including eggs from heritage-breed chickens, so for once egg size shouldn't have been a problem).