The CWI Cookbook

Archive for the ‘Breakfast’ Category

 1 qt. milk
2 cups stale bread-crumbs
1 good handful of flour
1 tbs. melted butter
3 eggs, well beaten
1 tsp. salt

Work the bread and milk smooth, stir in the butter and eggs, then the salt, lastly just enough flour to bind the mixture. If too thick, add milk. These are wholesome and good. Take care they do not stick to the griddle.

From Common Sense in the Household by Marion Harland, New York, 1871

Comment: Ah, the precision measurements so favored by 19th century writers! “A good handful” is defined above, but for those who insist on more detail all we can do is suggest adding the flour a tablespoon at a time until the desired consistency is reached. It will most likely not take very much as breadcrumbs are incredibly absorbent and two cups will soak up a quart of milk without any difficulty at all.

It was standard practice in the 19th century home to keep a covered jar handy into which was swept any crumbs or leftover pieces of bread for future use in recipes like this one. When one’s bread is made and baked a loaf at a time by one’s own hands, one is much more reluctant to let the slightest bit of it go to waste.

12 brandied apricots (or other fruit)
small waffles (wafers)
batter from “French and English Fritters”
Sugar

Take a dozen apricots (or other fruits) preserved in brandy, drain, and cut them in half; then wrap them in wafers cut round and previously moistened, dip them in the same kind of batter as that used for fritters English-and-French, and fry them; sprinkle them with sugar, and serve.

From The Cook’s Own Book by “A Boston Housewife” (Mrs. N. K. M. Lee), Boston, 1832.

Comment: We have yet to figure out just what makes a product qualify for the designation “French,” which Mrs. Lee applies to a great number of different items which have no readily apparent common factor. The only thing we can think of in this case is that the technique of wrapping a filling in a thin pancake is known to the French as a crepe–although they do not as a rule then dunk the whole thing in fritter batter and fry it. Call it what you will, this looks like an interesting dish.

“Batter for Fritters, English-and-French” you would of course have looked up on p. 81 of Mrs. Lee’s book. Since that does not exactly fit into an Internet format we reprint it here for your convenience:

“Put a glass and a half of water, a grain of salt, and two ounces of fresh butter into a saucepan; when it boils stir in a sufficient quantity of flour to make it a rather firm batter, keep it stirring three minutes, then pour it into another vessel.”

To this we add the note that you may have to practice this a few times to get it to the proper consistency: not so thin that it immediately drains off the fritter leaving it as naked as it was before you started, and not so thick as to turn the whole morsel into an inedible wad of dough with a tiny morsel of brandied fruit concealed somewhere within.

 1 qt. milk
3 tbs. [homemade] yeast
1 tbs. butter, melted
2 eggs, well beaten
1 tsp. salt
Flour

[Mix the milk, yeast and salt, then add enough] Flour to make a good batter. Set the rest of the ingredients as a sponge over night, and in the morning add the melted butter and eggs.

From Common Sense in the Household by Marion Harland, New York, 1871

Comment: Mrs. Harland was even more cryptic than usual with directions here, so we have added the part in brackets.  Like many recipes of the time for breakfast breads–essentially pancakes– a careful balance had to be sought. Baking powder as we know it today had not yet been invented, and the product they used instead, known as “saleratus,” frankly tasted pretty nasty. This recipe uses a very small amount of yeast for the quantity of other ingredients, since it was to be left out overnight to save the cook a bit of time in the cold morning. That amount of yeast would induce just enough rising to make the dough light, without causing such an expansion as to engulf half the kitchen. If you try this today, seek out the coolest part of the room for the batter to spend its overnight stay, but do not refrigerate as this will keep the yeast from functioning at all. If homemade yeast is not available, try to find the moist cake form of the product rather than the dry powder in packets.

 1 loaf bread, crust cut off, cut in thin slices
Raspberry, strawberry or other jam
Sherry
Sugar
Almonds
Fresh custard (not yet set)

Pare off the crust, and cut into thin round slices of four or five inches, the crumb of a twopenny or threepenny roll; spread over each bit raspberry or strawberry jam, and place the slices one over the other pretty high in a glass dish, and pour over them as much sherry, sweetened with sugar, and the bread will soak in; stick round the sides, and over the top, blanched sweet almonds, cut like straws, and pour a custard round it. It may be made the day before, or two or three hours before dinner, and with the crumb of loaf bread.

From The Cook’s Own Book by “A Boston Housekeeper” (Mrs. N. K. M. Lee) Boston 1832

Comment: Ah, the joys of 19th century measurements! If we are not being advised to use ingredients like “a piece of butter the size of a hen’s egg” we are being told to use as much bread as could be bought for either two or three cents! This was actually a sizeable amount, considering what inflation and the passage of time have done to the value of American currency–a twopenny loaf was probably the equivalent of a modern “short” loaf (circa 10 inches long) while a threepenny would be closer to the standard size of 18-20 inches. A nice loaf of unsliced French or Italian style bread would fit the bill nicely and should be easy to obtain if one does not wish to bake one’s own.

This is really a very fancy dessert, and would not be at all out of place in a modern restaurant. The sweetness of the jam used as filling may be a factor in deciding whether or not to add sugar to the sherry. We are not entirely sure how one cuts an almond “like a straw” but suspect that plain slivered nuts are what is contemplated here. It may be easier to stick the nuts in before adding the sherry, than afterwards when the bread is all wet.

 1 chicken (any gender)
Parsley
Thyme
Spearmint
Balm
1/2 large onion
Pepper
Salt
1 whole clove

Sir Kenelm Digby, in his “Closet of Cookery,”, p. 149, London, 1669, informs us, was made with “a brawny hen, or young cock, a handful of parsley, one sprig of thyme, three of spearmint, a little balm, half a great onion, a little pepper and salt, and a clove, with as much water as will cover them; and this is boiled to less than a pint for one good porrigerful.” Also known as “Bouillon de Sante.”

The Cook’s Oracle by William Kitchiner, MD, New York, 1829

Comment: This would indeed be a breakfast dish suited for a queen, as only someone of that level of wealth could afford to cook a whole chicken just for a porriger’s worth of broth. A “porriger” we should add, is a sort of cross between a wide-mouthed cup and a small bowl, often with a little ear or handle on one or both sides. While intended for one’s morning porridge they are also made for every use from drinking whiskey to dispensing cat food. In any case we hope the servants at least got to eat the leftover chicken.

 1 qt. Indian [corn] meal
1 tsp. salt
A little lard, melted
Cold water to make a soft dough

Mould with the hands into thin oblong cakes, lay in a well-greased pan, and bake very quickly.

The common way is to mould into oval mounds, higher in the middle than at the ends, shaping these rapidly and lightly with the hands, by tossing this dough over and over. This is done with great dexterity by the Virginia cooks, and this corn-meal pone forms a part of every dinner. It is broken, not cut, and eaten very hot.

From Common Sense in the Household by Marion Harland, New York, 1871

Comment: Ah, the quintessential Southern dish, corn pone. This is just one of a number of breads which must be descended from the very earliest cooked foods of mankind (other than the traditional haunch of mastodon held over the fire by the ankle bone.) Hoe cake, johnnycake, bannock bread, all just ground grain mixed with water enough to hold it together and cooked on a hot rock or even in the ashes of the fire itself. The grain used depends on what is most common or easily obtained in a given area, which in much of America was corn. In the 1800s this was still known in much of the country as “Indian meal” or simply “Indian.”