Apples (good luck finding “russetings, or “lemon pippins” today)
4 whole cloves
Lemon peel
4 oz. sugar (white or brown not specified)
Quince jam (optional)
1 layer pie crust for top

Take eight russetings, or lemon pippin apples; pare, core, and cut not smaller than quarters; place them as close as possible together into a pie-dish, with four cloves; rub together in a mortar some lemon-peel, with four ounces of good moist sugar, and, if agreeable, add some quince jam; cover it with puff paste; bake it an hour and a quarter. (Generally eaten warm).

From The Cook’s Own Book, Being a Complete Culinary Encyclopedia, by “A Boston Housekeeper” (Mrs. N. K. M. Lee), Boston, 1832

Comment: This is a straightforward apple pie of the chunky sort, as opposed to the more typical version wherein the apples are thinly sliced. Unless you have access to heirloom apples of the types specified, this might be best suited to fruit of the mushier variety–golden or red delicious perhaps, as opposed to a crisp Grannie Smith. And speaking of crispy things, you might want to consider grinding those cloves into powder before using. Biting into a whole clove when eating a mushy apple pie could be disconcerting and lead to painful dental work.  The mention of “good moist sugar” seems to suggest brown sugar, since white sugar was normally sold in solid form and grated into a granulated state before use.

          

Gardening books sell by the multiple thousands every year, making one wonder what new information has been found to justify yet another tome on a subject that has been practiced since (indeed nearly defines) the dawn of human civilization. Yet people buy them, in hopes that just one more book will reveal the secret that has so far eluded the aspiring gardener who gazes sadly at a raggedy patch of weeds instead of the beautiful display of fresh healthy vegetables like the one on the book cover.

The mid 1900s were no different. As cookbooks were written for women who were raised in households where servants did much of the cooking but who were now starting out life on their own with husbands who could not (yet) afford household help, so were gardening books written for women coming to the middle class from the opposite direction. Raised perhaps in a city where yards were only big enough for a few flowers, they were now mistresses of more rural, or at least suburban, residences. The city market was far away and households were more dependent on the produce they themselves raised and preserved.

This section of the Cookbook is based largely on The Housekeeper’s Encyclopedia by Mrs. E. F. Haskell. Primarily a cookbook, she includes several pages of excellent detail on gardening, going from the very basics of preparing the soil to the details on how large a section should be devoted to each plant to ensure a large enough harvest for a family. As she puts it:

The writer designs in this chapter to give some general directions to those who are entirely ignorant of agriculture in all its divisions,having been accustomed to live where a patch of green was a luxury only enjoyed by the millionnaire; but who, happily, find themselves snugly settled in a little home of their own, in a quiet country village, where an acre of ground is only too small for the comfort of a family; in such towns no vegetable market for the summer is to be depended upon; every family raise their own… Many beginners in gardening fail for want of the knowledge of a few of the first principles in  the science of horti- and agriculture. The first requisite is to prepare the soil in such a manner as to insure the healthy growth of tree or root.

By way of background, Mrs. Haskell’s book was published in New York  so we will presume that she lived in the northeast. Those reading this in other regions, or other countries for that matter, should make such adjustments to her advice as is appropriate for your latitude and climate.  You can of course simply read her words for the enjoyment of history and appreciation of the past, but  you could also try planting just as she advises. “Going organic” wasn’t an option in her time, there being no industrial or chemical based agriculture to speak of. Weeds are removed with hoes, not sprays, and cutworms are thwarted by such measures as wrapping a plant stem in brown paper, held in place by string or packed dirt.

An intriguing exception to the no-chemicals standard is noted in several cases where it is recommended that seeds be soaked in water to which saltpeter has been added. She says it promotes germination and good early growth. You are allowed to skip this step on grounds of either organic purity or the fact that saltpeter is not commonly available these days. Soaking seeds in plain water, particularly peas, works just as well and is highly recommended.

Over the next few days we will be adding some of Mrs. Haskell’s thoughts on everything from the size of garden space recommended for a family of six for assorted vegetables to proper methods for manuring the soil. Individual posts on planting tips for vegetables will be offered too. Some of these may be a bit late for this year (2009) but other varieties don’t get planted until fall. Comments, as always, welcome.

          

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.

          

Chickens, whole if small (fryers) or cut up if large (broilers)
1 pint water
Salt
White pepper, ground
Nutmeg, grated
Mace
1 tbs. butter, rolled in flour (optional)
Livers, gizzards and hearts of chickens
Yolks of 5 eggs, hard-boiled
Sliced ham (optional)
Forcemeat (stuffing) balls (optional)
2-3 oz. macaroni, broken up and cooked separately (optional)
Layer of pie crust or puff paste, top only

Pick, clean and singe the chickens; if they are very young, keep them whole; if large, cut them in joints, and take off the skin, wash them well, parboil in a pint of water, season them with salt, white pepper, grated nutmeg, and mace mixed, and if whole, put into them a bit of butter rolled in flour, and a little of the mixed spices; lay them into a dish with the livers, and gizzards, and hearts well seasoned, add the gravy [water in which they were boiled], and yolks of five hard-boiled eggs; cover with a puff paste, and bake it for an hour.

Slices of cold ham and force-meat balls may be added to this pie. Or wash in cold water two or three ounces of macaroni, break it into small bits, simmer it for nearly half an hour in milk and water, drain and put it with the chickens into the dish, and also an ounce of butter.

From The Good Housekeeper by Sarah Josepha Hale, 1841

Comment: This recipe comes with so many options it is a bit of a challenge to figure out what to do. Whole small chickens or larger ones cut up? With thickener (the butter-rolled-in-flour) or without? Added macaroni? Ham and stuffing rolled into balls? And just what was “macaroni” in the 1860s anyway? This is part of what makes historic cooking fun. This dish is whatever you want it to be. Do be sure to boil the chicken somewhat before mixing it with the other ingredients to bake into a pie, lest it be underdone when the other ingredients are toasty and ready to eat. Aside from possible health concerns from undercooked poultry, you need the broth created by the boiling to moisten the pie itself.  And in answer to the macaroni question, it seems the term was applied to any sort of egg-and-flour noodle which was dried out rather than eaten fresh-made. If you have broken bits of lasagne lingering in the bottoms of boxes, this might be a good use for it.

          

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.

          

Cast iron is not just one of the oldest substances used for cookware, it continues to fill an important niche in the kitchen even today. While on first sight you may expect to see a cast iron kettle hanging on a tripod over a fire in a movie Western, or on a stage set for a play based in the Victorian era, cast iron utensils from those times could easily still be in use today. The stuff is amazingly sturdy and will last essentially forever if properly cared for.

“Properly cared for” is indeed the rub. The procedures required are entirely different from, and may cause shock and horror in those accustomed to, the ones required by common chemical-based nonstick coatings.  The rules are at least not complicated: A scrubbing device (plastic pad, sturdy brush or even steel wool) and water are essential, and soap is forbidden. That’s it. As simple as “no metal in the microwave, ever.”

The worst problems with cast iron comes from not using it. Iron will rust no matter how careful one is to store it in the dryest possible site: we live on a high-oxygen planet after all, and iron+oxygen=rust (Moisture or even high humidity just speeds up the process). If you have some which has become rusty, the steel wool becomes mandatory. Scrape and scrub until the rust is gone. Cloth gardening-type gloves are a good idea to spare your fingers from bits of steel wool that break off. Get every bit of the rust off or, like fungus, it will speed up the return of the problem.

Newly purchased modern cast iron comes already seasoned, but many people prefer to give it another treatment once they get it home, and of course it is essential for an older one which has been neglected. If the pan is just plain filthy, soap is unavoidable this one time. There are those who say the prohibition against soap dates back to the days when soap was made from lye and animal fat, and that modern “dish detergents”  are relatively harmless, but remember this is a one-time event in any case.

Get the pan as hot as you can stand to handle it, and use the hottest water you can manage. Get it perfectly clean inside and out, including lid if the utensil has one. Dry thoroughly, then put it in an oven on low heat to both dry the rest of the way and warm back up. Coat thoroughly with oil. Your choices are vegetable oil, animal fat (bacon grease is classic) or mineral oil, and we have seen arguments for and against all of them. They all work and none of them will poison you, so use what you have to hand.

Spread some newspaper in an out-0f-the-way place and put the cast iron on it, upside down, to drain for a couple of days. Line the oven rack with foil to catch any remaining drips and put the pieces, still upside-down, in to cook. Now comes your last decision: high heat for a short time, or somewhat lower for longer. Some recommend 500 degrees for an hour, but admit that the process fills the kitchen with smoke. We suggest a more moderate path, 350 to at most 400 degrees, and a longer time, perhaps 3-5 hours. Smoke is still likely, so crank the vent fan up as high as you can and tough it out. Console yourself that at least you can do all this with the flip of a switch rather than having to cut wood and build a fire to heat up your cookware.

Popularity of cast iron for casual kitchen use rises and falls over time. One generation sniffs at it as “old fashioned”  and worships at the altar of high-techitude coatings, copper bottoms and the like. Or it is considered acceptable only if coated in porcelain, given fancy brand names and a high price.  But the real thing never goes away, and of late has been making a bit of a comeback. Lodge Manufacturing is far and away the best known brand (available at great prices at Amazon–see left sidebar.)

One person may start out buying a griddle for pancakes, the sort that goes over two burners on a stove. Another may buy a corn-muffin baker whose receses are in the shape of ears of corn simply because it’s cute, then discover what a terrific job it does. Someone else may dig out a pot used only on camping trips and try it in a “real” kitchen just for fun. We use ours almost daily and find it well worth the occasional bother of maintenance. In fact, the more we have gotten into cooking for pleasure and more elaborate recipes, the more we have come to appreciate the virtues of this indestructable cookware.

          

We have just completed the opening of our Civil War Cooking Articles section. Seven articles have been posted today and more are on the way. You’ll find everything from articles on pork to potatoes to cooking for an authentic Civil War wedding. You’ll find the tab to enter the section just below the masthead picture. Enjoy.