Posts Tagged ‘cream’
Six whites of eggs
Six large table-spoonfuls of jelly
A pint of cream
Put the jelly and white of egg into a pan, and beat it together with a whisk, till it becomes a stiff froth, and stands alone. Have ready the cream, in a broad shallow dish. Just before you sent it to table, pile up the froth in the centre of the cream.
From Seventy-Five Receipts for Pastry, Cakes and Sweetmeats by “A Lady of Philadelphia” (Eliza Leslie), Philadelphia, 1828.
Comment: This would have been a pleasant dish for an afternoon tea at which a guest you wished to impress would be attending. It could be made today in no time flat with the benefit of electric mixers, were it not for the tragic fact that just as such utensils were becoming commonplace, the custom of afternoon tea rather faded into oblivion. Beating jelly into egg whites to the point where they form a “stiff froth” was a considerable amount of labor when it had to be done entirely by hand.
1/2 c. cream
2-3 macaroons, pounded
Lemon peel, grated
Yolks of 8 eggs
Whites of 3 eggs
Put a glass of thick cream, some sugar, two or three macaroons pounded, with a few almonds, a little grated lemon; give them a boil; then add the yolks of eight and the whites of three eggs, beat the whole up over a slow fire; and lay on very thin slices of fried bread; sprinkle sugar over, and serve.
From The Cook’s Own Book by “A Boston Housewife” (Mrs. N. K. M. Lee) Boston 1832
Comment: We are honestly not sure if this was intended as a dessert, a breakfast item, or perhaps a light course for a supper or tea. It almost resembles a fancy French toast, or perhaps scrambled eggs on toast, but then again the use of sugar and crushed cookies tilts us the other way. We suggest you try it whenever you think it might be appropriate, while we go lie down as we are dizzy from all the tilting.
2 pints milk
8 oz. cream
small piece vanilla bean
12 oz. sugar
Two pints of milk, eight ounces of cream, four grains of vanilla, twelve ounces of sugar, split the vanilla [bean], and cut it into small pieces; beat it with a little sugar in a marble mortar till it becomes powdered;
put it into a stew-pan or skillet, with the milk, cream, and sugar; let them boil till the whole is sufficiently thick, then strain through a cloth, and pour into a bowl to cool.
From “Madame de Genlis” in The Carolina Housewife by Sarah Rutledge, 1847
Comment: “Madame de Genlis’” term for the quantity of vanilla to be used here is a bit unclear. A “grain” was indeed a unit of measurement, but a very small one: 20 grains made a scruple, three scruples made a drachm (or “dram”) and it took eight drachms to make an ounce. So “four grains” would hardly seem to be enough to flavor this quantity of milk, cream and sugar. We leave the matter to the discretion of the cook. Additionally, it would seem like the author has taken for granted the final step of putting the recipe through an ice-cream freezer (which were perfectly well known in the 19th century) as the resulting product would otherwise be known as “vanilla pudding.”
It was quite common in 19th century cookbooks for individual recipes to be attributed to a specific source, usually a person known to the author or otherwise locally famous for superior cookery skills. This added a touch of uniqueness to what was otherwise just a collection of the same receipts as were carried in every other cookbook in the store. It also gave both author and donor a shot at a bit of fame in a time when this was a rare opportunity for women. “Respectable” women, at any rate.
4 1/2 c. flour
3 c. sugar
1 c. butter
1 c. cream
1 tsp. baking powder
Spices to taste
The cup used as a measure for the receipts in this book is not the tea-table china cup, but the common large earthen teacup, except where a small one is specified; and the teaspoon used is neither the largest or smallest, but the medium sized.
The Young Housekeeper’s Friend by Mrs. [M. H.] Cornelius, 1865.
Comment: Mrs. Cornelius added the above note before her overall section on Cup Cakes. Other than that, the recipe for each individual variant was precisely as you see here: a list of ingredients. Other than that, bupkis. No specific mixing instructions, no baking temperature of even the “moderate” vs. “quick” oven variety common in the books of the day. Nothing. Nit. Nil. Nada. Zip.
So put the things into a bowl in the order given, add such spices as the spirit moves you to include, likewise the quantities of currants, citron and wine. (Yes, it does make a difference if you put the wine into the batter first, versus cutting out a step and just putting it into the cook directly.) Make it as thick as you think cake batter should be, put it into muffin tins and bake until it appears to be done. This is 19th century cooking at its finest, folks.
1 lb. sugar
1 pint cream
1 lb. flour
1 tsp. nutmeg
1/2 c. brandy
Beat six eggs very light, sift into them a pound of loaf sugar powdered, and a light pound of flour, with half a grated nutmeg, and a glass of brandy; beat all together very well, add a pint of cream, pour it in a deep dish, and bake it–when done, sift some powdered sugar over it.
From The Virginia Housewife by Mary Randolph, 1860 edition.
Comment: The “powdered sugar” called for here is not the very fine product sold under that name today. In the 19th century sugar was sold in solid form, usually large cones, as that was the form in which they came from the manufacturing sugar mills. These were often too large for most customers to store conveniently so city merchants might break pieces off to sell separately, but this still required the cook to subdivide it further.
A hammer and chisel might be used to knock off chunks of various sizes, but if the sugar was intended for a recipe such as this these chunks would themselves have to be processed with a grater or a mortar and pestle. Grating gave a result much like plain granulated sugar of today, while the mortar and pestle could grind to whatever degree of fineness was called for.
Here the sugar that goes into the pudding itself can probably be of the granulated sort, while a finer grind, like powdered sugar of today, would be used for the final topping
1/4 pint “mountain wine”
1/4 pint white wine
Grated peel of 2 lemons
Juice of 1 lemon
1 qt. rich cream
A quarter of a pint of mountain, the same of white wine, the grated peel of two, and juice of one lemon; sweeten, and add it to a quart of rich cream; whisk it for an hour, and put it into glasses. It will keep a week in cold weather.
From The Cook’s Own Book by “A Boston Housekeeper” (Mrs. N. K. M. Lee) Boston 1832
Comment: Syllabubs can be compared to milkshakes, in that they are both based on milk and they come in a vast range of varieties. The main difference between the two is that milkshakes must include ice cream (and only became popular after ice cream began to be made in commercial quantities rather than in small batches at home) while syllabubs almost invariably include alcohol in some form. Mrs. Lee does not describe what she means by “mountain wine” but other sources say that it refers to a variety of Malaga wine grown in, logically enough, the mountains.
Those contemplating making up a batch of this recipe should first brood long and hard upon the phrase “whisk for an hour” before getting underway. Attempts to cheat by using an electric mixer may result in a batch of wine-flavored butter, given that the base ingredient is “rich cream.” While this may be interesting in its own right, it cannot really be called a syllabub. As its name indicates this product is to be fairly thick, but downright chewy is right out.