Comment: This is another item from The Hydropathic Cook-Book by R. T. Trall M. D., prolific proponent of the “Hydropathic” school of medicine and lifestyle of the 19th century. While biographical data on “Dr.” Trall is hard to come by–we have not yet found what the “R.T.” stands for, where Trall obtained a medical education if any, or for that matter what Trall’s gender might have been–there is no question that a great many books and pamphlets were published under that name from the 1850s through nearly the end of the century. Covering everything from temperance to dress reform (women’s) to the evils of tobacco and drugs to sex, Hydropathy was a full-service school of medical philosophy.

It was not, however, the only one competing for popularity at the time. Nor were all the proponents of dietary reform trained in medicine. Sylvester Graham–today famous only for the Graham cracker, which in its present formulation he would not at all recognize and would repudiate in horror–was a clergyman by trade. He decided sin, particularly of the sexual sort, was caused by improper diet which led to excessive stimulation of the nervous system. He was less hardcore vegetarian, allowing limited use of milk, cheese, eggs and butter, but downright fanatical against spices, particularly hot ones such as pepper.

After Graham died–at the age of 58–in 1851, a certain waning of enthusiasm for his diet plan set in. One last overlap between the two generations of dietary reformers was yet to be. The following recipe, for the famous “Graham bread,” made its first appearance in Dr. Trall’s 1854  The New Hydropathic Cook-Book. So enjoy a bite of history here. Even a dab of butter if you must. But no pepper, please…

WHEAT MEAL BREAD–GRAHAM BREAD

In every cook-book I have examined, and in all the medico-dietetical works I have consulted, I find saleratus or pearlash, and salt always in the recipe for making what those books call brown, dyspepsia, or Graham bread. Those two drugs ought always to be left out. Molasses or brown sugar is also a fixture in the ordinary receipt books, and as a small quantity–a tablespoonful to a common loaf–is not harmful, the saccarine element may be left to taste. Make the sponge of unbolted wheat-meal in the ordinary way, with either hop or potato yeast, but mix it rather thin. Be sure and mold the loaves as soon as it becomes light [risen], as the unbolted flour runs into the acetous fermentation much more rapidly than the bolted or superfine flour, and bake an hour and a quarter or an hour and a half, according to the size of the loaf.

From The New Hydropathic Cook-Book by R. T. Trall M. D. New York 1854.

          

Comment: This is neither an apple-flavored dinner roll nor the sort of sticky cylinder of “fruit” paste popular with very young people.  In fact it’s hard to think of exactly what modern day product, either commercial or homemade, that it does resemble, because the whole technique of boiled puddings and dumplings has gone so completely out of fashion. It was still extremely common in the mid 19th century though, so Mrs. Bryan didn’t feel a need to go into a great whacking lot of detail. The “pudding-cloth”  should be smooth fabric (no terrycloth or old towels, please) and slick, to discourage the food contents from sticking to it, but not waterproof since the water is what cooks the product. Probably your best bet is an old but clean and intact cotton pillowcase, with the side seams removed to make a single layer of cloth. For this dish you would probably want it about a foot square, and remember you need three of them, one for each roll. Pay close attention to the order to dip the cloth in boiling water then sprinkle it with flour: we suspect this forms a sort of shell to keep the crust of the roll from sticking to it. Peel it out carefuly. The result should be something like a boiled pie.

Roll out a sheet of common pie paste [crust], about one fourt of an inch thick, and put a thicksmooth layer of appe butter over it, roll it up into a scroll, making the roll about as large in circumference as a large glass tumbler, and about eight inches long; close the paste very securely at both ends and the side that is open, making the paste as smooth as possible where the edges meet. Having made out three in this manner, dust them well with flour, tie them up separately in dumpling cloths, havign first dipped them [the cloths] into boiling water and dusted them with flour, and boil them like puddings till they are done; then take them carefully out of the cloths, lay them side by side in a dish of suitable size, and eat them warm with cream sauce.

From The Kentucky Housewife by Mrs. Lettice Bryan, Cincinnati OH 1839

          

Comment: No, don’t start mixing a batch of curry powder. The word “Indian” in this case means Indian meal, or as it is known today, cornmeal. Why the exceedingly useful word “maize” for the premier grain of the New World did not become universal in the land of its birth is unknown. The word “corn” to a European could refer to any grain, be it wheat, barley or whatever, so was useless in describing the meal made from the grains of any particular plant. What we now call corn in America was created over millenia by crossbreeding Mexican grass plants, in what has been described as the most impressive feat of genetic engineering ever accomplished. Perhaps Native Americans deserve to have their name attached to their plant after all. Oh, and “sweet” milk is simply milk that is fresh and not soured. It does not imply the addition of sugar or other sweetener.

1 qt. (4 cups) cornmeal
1/2 tsp. salt
2 tbs butter OR 4 tbs. finely chopped suet
2 eggs, beaten
Milk
Molasses (optional topping)

Sift a quart of fine Indian meal, mix with it a salt-spoonful of salt, a spoonful of butter, or two of finely chopped suet, two well beaten eggs and enough sweet milk to make it into good bread dough. Work it well with your hands, make it into dumplings the size of a large biscuit, flour them well, drop them into a pot of boiling water, and boil them briskly until done. Be very careful in serving them, lest you break them. Eat them warm with molasses. Indian dumplings are sometimes eaten with corned pork or bacon. In such cases they should be boiled with the meat with which they are served.

From The Kentucky Housewife by Mrs. Lettice Bryan Cincinnati OH 1839

          

1 c. molasses
1/2 c. butter
1/2 c. buttermilk
2 eggs
1 tbs. brown sugar
1 tsp. ginger
1 tsp. baking powder (”saleratus”)
flour

One cup molasses, one-half cup butter, one-half cup buttermilk, two eggs, one table-spoonful ginger; one tea-spoonful saleratus, flour enough to make a stiff batter.

From Transactions of the Wisconsin State Agriculture Society, blue ribbon winners at the Wisconsin State Fair of 1860. Item entered by Miss Josephine Peffer in the “under 12 years” category

Comment: We found these gems of Midwestern contest cookery in a small eBay purchase of long ago bought for research into some other topic entirely. If you were fortunate enough to inherit your grand- or better yet great-grandmother’s “receipt box” you are probably familiar with the style: simply a list of ingredients and no further instructions. These were  prompts for personal memory, unlike a cookbook written for strangers and designed to instruct the ignorant in the “arts of cookery.” Our grands and great-grands back throughout time started cooking at about the age of three and when they stopped, the funeral was usually a day or two later. 

          

Whole wheat flour
Yeast
Water
1 tbs. brown sugar

The sample of Graham bread presented was made of spring wheat flour. The sponge was set at night with yeast and water, with a table-spoonful of brown sugar added. Mixed next morning and put in a baking dish, and when sufficiently light [raised], baked about an hour in a stove oven. No salt used.

From Transactions of the Wisconsin State Agriculture Society, blue ribbon winners at the Wisconsin State Fair of 1860. Item entered by Mrs. S. Warner.

Comment: We have had questions about the direction to “set the sponge” the night before. This technique is nowadays confined almost exclusively to sourdough bread, but was an almost universal practice in the days before dehydrated yeast was on the market. All baking yeast was previously kept in a jar mixed with flour and water, almost a mini-dough in itself. The amount needed for a specific baking would be taken out, mixed with additional flour and water (and perhaps, as here, some sugar or other stimulant to yeast growth) and left for hours or overnight to allow the yeast to multiply. Then when it was time to actually bake, any remaining flour, water and other ingredients called for would be added to the “sponge” and the process repeated during the rising of the dough. This recipe does not call for any additional ingredients so the overnight rising would evidently be the only one except for the rising in the pan. We suggest you bake at 350 degrees F for half an hour or so until the top looks brown. Bake in a bread pan of some oven-safe sort, not on a flat baking sheet.

There are historic recipes to be found in the oddest places. Those collected from family lore, notes scribbled on stray bits of paper in Grandma’s receipt box or, as in this case, from records of a State Fair, tend to consist almost entirely of a list of ingredients. The user was expected to know what to do with them from that point on. The cooking stove was in the process of being invented in this period–previously cooking had been done on an open fire in a hearth, which doubled as the heat source for the house–and every one was different, so cooking directions would not have been of much use anyway. “Graham flour” was what would today be known as whole wheat.

          

1 qt. flour
2 tsp. cream of tartar
Salt
2 tbs. thick cream OR 1 tbs. lard or butter
1 tsp. baking soda dissolved in hot water
Milk enough to make soft batter
Optional additions:
1 egg
2 tbs. sugar

Stir into one quart of flour, two teaspoonfuls of cream of tartar, and a little salt. Add two table-spoonfuls of thick cream, or rub in one spoonful of lard or butter. Put in a tea-spoonful of soda or saleratus, dissolved in a very little hot water. Mix the whole rather soft with milk. Bake like tea biscuits.
It is a convenient way to make the mixture soft enough with milk to enable you to stir it well with a spoon, and then drop it into the baking pan. It should spread a little, but not run. To vary these drop-cakes add an egg, and two spoonfuls of sugar. For a family of three or four, make half the measure.

From The Young Housekeeper’s Friend by Mrs. M. H. Cornelius, 1863, Boston

Comment: This would seem to be about four recipes in one, if you count all the variations of use-this-or-what-the-heck-use-that-instead. While the resulting product seems to be as likely to resemble a pancake as it does a biscuit, it at least spares the cook the extensive rolling and occasional beating that true biscuits frequently require. It is also a comment on the typical family size of the period that Mrs. Cornelius suggests cutting the recipe in half for a “small” family of three or four.

          

1 pint sour milk (use buttermilk)
2 c. corn (”Indian”) meal
1 c. flour
1 egg
2 tbs. molasses
1 tsp. salt
1 tsp. baking powder (saleratus is obsolete and no longer available)

To a pint of sour milk, two cups of Indian meal, one of flour, one egg, two table-spoonfuls of molasses, a teaspoonful of salt and one of saleratus. Mix it thoroughly, and bake twenty-five minutes in two shallow pans, or thirty-five in a deep one. 

From The Young Housekeeper’s Friend by Mrs. [M. H.] Cornelius, 1863.

Comment: The term “Indian meal” or simply “Indian” was almost universally used for what we now just call “corn meal” for centuries. It is a source of some mystification for linguists who cannot figure out why Americans never adopted the term “maize” for this product like Europe and most of the rest of the world did.  In those places “corn” is a generic term for any grain including barley, wheat, oats, etc.  which can be a source of confusion for readers.  Saleratus, along with potash and pearlash, was about to become obsolete too with the invention of baking powder. These substances, which are alkali in chemistry as well as taste, combined with an acid ingredient (the sour or butter milk used here) to release carbon dioxide to promote rising of the batter during baking.

          

1 and 1/2 lb. flour
1 and 1/2 lb. sugar
whites of 24 eggs
yolks of 18 eggs
cracked or ground coriander seeds (optional)
Yeast (optional)

Take a pound and a half of flour, a pound and a half of fine sugar, the whites of twenty-four, and the yolks of eighteen eggs, put in coriander seeds beaten small at discretion; mix these well together, and make them into a soft paste, add a little soft yeast or not. Lay this paste on paper, or in crusts about two inches broad, and four inches long, set them in a moderate oven, and when they begin to turn brown, take them out, and lay them on paper, in a dry place.

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

Comment: This is a rather peculiar recipe. We cannot think of another which lists “a little yeast” as an option, and give no other rising agent at least as an alternative. Without the yeast this will make a very flat, and we would think very dull, not to mention very tough, biscuit, almost of the level of hardtack. On the other hand the addition of so much egg, both yolk and especially the whites, might serve to induce some rising just from heat expansion of the gas bubbles included therein. Coriander, if used, will give a rye flavor to the bread.

The suggestion to bake “on paper” means cooking-quality parchment paper. Once available only in gourmet cookware stores, this can now be found in a fair range of supermarkets, in the same section as aluminum foil and rolls of plastic wraps