English as an Apple Pie

I made an apple pie!  I must say, I felt quite proud looking at my finished pie, with a crust made from scratch and everything.  It was actually quite simple!  I used an apple pie recipe from Mary Randolph's The Virginia House-wife, which closely aligns with our many English recipes despite its provenance, so this made a very English apple pie.  Yes, an English apple pie recipe.  Believe it or not, apple pies are not American.  They are all over our 17th and 18th-century English cookbooks, with a key difference: cloves instead of cinnamon.  Mary Randolph's recipe calls the cook to make a good crust, cut apples thin and lay them in layers with powdered sugar between each layer, then at the end to add in cloves and rose-water.  It smells divine.



The hardest part is the crust, if you're not used to making pie crusts.  For this one, I took about a pound and a half of flour to almost one-third pound of butter.  Simply rub the butter into the flour bit by bit with your hands until it feels grainy and looks a bit like sand.  Then I added in one egg to give it a bit of strength (it needs to stand on its own outside of the pie tin), and just a little water until it formed a dough (remember, you can always add more, you can't take any out).  Then grease your pie tin and flour it (so the pie will come out).  You can use any standard size, because with the amount of flour you used you'll have plenty of crust.  Lay in your crust, then do as I described above: pare, then cut apples thinly and lay them in layers with powdered sugar between each layer.  For my pie, once the apples reached the top, I put in about a spoonful of rosewater and some ground cloves.  Feel free to spice as you like, though, with cinnamon or nutmeg.

Then the part that makes it a pie: roll out a top-crust.  It's not a pie without a top-crust by 18th-century standards.  Once rolled, add decoration!  To make the decoration stand out, brush a little egg white over the top before you bake it-- I neglected that step... oops!  I baked mine in a Dutch Oven, but you can bake as you would a normal pie (again-- bake times and temperatures are hard for me to give you).  Then marvel at how pretty it looks and enjoy!

The Elegance of the Hedgehog

His name is Humperdinck.  One of my colleagues made him to adorn our table; after all, if you could afford it, the eighteenth-century meal functioned as much to delight the eye as the palate.  Humperdinck is made from marzipan and slivered almonds.  Wouldn't you love such an adorable, edible center piece on your dinner table?  And, lest you think we just did this without documentation-- or if you want one of your own-- here is the recipe from Hannah Glasse's The Art of Cookery Made Plain and Easy:

"To make a Hedge-Hog: 

Take two pounds of blanched almonds, beat them well in a mortar, with a little canary and orange-flower water, to keep them from oiling.  Make them into stiff paste, then beat in the yolks of twelve eggs, leave out five of the whites, put to it a pint of cream sweetened with sugar, put in half a pound of sweet butter melted, set it on a furnace or slow fire, and keep it constantly stirring, till it is stiff enough to be made in the form of a hedge-hog; then stick it full of blanched almonds, slit and stuck up like the bristles of a hedge-hog, then put it into a dish; take a pint of cream, and the yolks of four eggs beat up, sweetened with sugar to your palate; stir them together over a slow fire till it is quite hot; then pour it round the hedge-hog in a dish, and let it stand till it is cold, and serve it up; or a rich calf's foot jelly, made clear and good, poured into the dish round the hedge-hog; when it is cold, it looks pretty, and makes a neat dish; or it looks pretty in the middle of a table for supper."

Shrewsbury Cakes

Did anyone else read the American Girl Felicity books as a child?  If so, you may remember that Felicity made Shrewsbury Cakes with her family in the book Felicity's Surprise.  Well, Shrewsbury Cakes really are an eighteenth-century recipe, and I made them the other day in the kitchens.

 (Me, with my tray of Shrewsbury Cakes)

I used Hannah Glasse's recipe: "Take two pounds of flour, a pound of sugar finely searced, mix them together (take out a quarter of a pound to roll them in); take four eggs beat, four spoonfuls of cream, and two spoonfuls of rose-water; beat them well together, and mix them with the flour into a paste, roll them into thin cakes, and bake them in a quick oven."

Pretty simple, right?  Let's clarify something first: once made, these should end up more like sugar cookies than like what we think of as "cakes."  In the eighteenth century, things that we now call "cookies" were termed "cakes," since the word "cookie" had not yet entered the English language, at least not to signify a small sweet treat.  Shrewsbury Cakes are also flavored with rose-water instead of vanilla.  Why not vanilla?  Well, vanilla isn't really used in the eighteenth-century; rose-water and orange-blossom water are much more common flavorings.  Try them!  They are quite nice.

So, to make these, take a pound and twelve ounces of flour (because we set a quarter aside to use when we roll out the cakes/cookies), a pound of granulated sugar, three or four eggs, enough cream to make it into a paste about the consistency of a cookie dough, and a little rose-water for flavoring.  Once you've rolled out your dough until about a quarter of an inch thick, take cookie cutters in whatever shape you choose and cut out your Shrewsbury Cakes.  Put them on parchment paper on a baking sheet, and bake them in an oven at around 350 degrees F, for maybe 10-15 minutes.  They should not get golden brown!  Carefully tap them to check if they are hard-- then they are done.  You can also look at the bottoms, which may get slightly brown when done. 

Then, arrange them prettily on a plate and enjoy! 

Change in the Air

It's high summer, but I already sense its impending end.  Despite the still heat and stifling humidity, something whispers of cooler days and new adventures to come.  I have less than twenty days left working in the eighteenth-century kitchens.  Soon I'll be trading in my jump and petticoats for cardigans and boots.  More than that, I'll be trading in this tiny town for a major city.  I will leave this house with its big backyard, its calm and quiet, for an apartment just steps from restaurants and shops and the hustle-bustle of an urban setting.  There's so much to be done before that-- thinking on all I must do to prepare makes a mere month seem a very short time, indeed.  There's packing of course, but more than that, sorting, clearing out, making space for the new after a year of settling into one place.  There are e-mails to send, little things to take care of, a whole life to set-up so that I can start living it.  I'm excited and apprehensive.  I can't wait to start, and I want this month to linger.

Shenandoah Staycation

This past weekend Zan and I took a "staycation" together.  We haven't gotten to see a lot of each other this summer since our weekends don't coincide, so I took a few days off, and he took a few days off, and we ended up with a lovely four days together.  We had a fancy dinner in Charlottesville the first night at my favorite restaurant, Maya.  The first full day, we drove Skyline Drive, hiked Dark Hollow Falls trail, almost went horseback riding but the trails were too slick to take the horses out, and had lunch at a National Park lodge.  We saw plenty of deer and heard from people on the trail that we just narrowly missed seeing a baby black bear (which might have been good, if Mama Bear was anywhere nearby).  I just loved Shenandoah National Park-- I can't wait to go back.  The next day we visited Bold Rock Cidery in Nellysford, VA, and we picked peaches at a PYO (Pick Your Own) peach orchard.  We admired the views of the mountains.  We visited Charlottesville again and saw Joss Whedon's Much Ado About Nothing with some friends.  We came back to Williamsburg and watched movies and played with our handsome cats and relaxed.  What a perfect mini-break. 

Each a Little Miracle

The other day I needed vegetables to make a stuffing for a roast.  We were running low on our stored veggie supplies, so one of my co-workers suggested I run to the garden to pick some carrots.

(Photo found here)

"Pick some carrots!"  These have become my new favorite words.  I found the carrot patch and pulled seven or eight carrots out of the ground with unbridled joy!  Each one is a surprise.  It's like opening an oyster and finding a pearl.  Sometimes the pearl is big and shiny, sometimes small and sweet.  So, too, with carrots.  I took them inside, cut off the leafy green tops, and washed them until they shone orange, all the while telling everyone how amazing it is to pick carrots!  "Yes," said my co-worker (perhaps somewhat sarcastically, now that I reflect upon it), "Each one is a little miracle."  Sarcastic or not, I must agree wholeheartedly.

 (Photo found here)

The next day, I again needed carrots for a recipe.  I ran into the garden on feet as light as feathers, and bent down to the carrot patch.  I looked for the carrots with their tops just poking out of the dark ground-- these promised to be the biggest.  And out they came!  Small and round, big and triangular, some slightly yellow around the bottom, others a striking orange from top to tail!  I took them inside and began the process of preparing them, when Dennis-- who had not been working with me the day before when I picked carrots-- asked me if I didn't need some more.  I must have looked at him with shining, hopeful eyes, as if I thought he was joking.  "Really?" I asked.  "Can I pick them myself?" He seemed taken aback, "Yes, of course..."  I smiled so wide that a tourist snapped my picture and told me I had a beautiful smile.  "Picking carrots is an unparalleled joy!" I exclaimed.  "Each is a little miracle!"  Dennis had a good laugh at that.  I ran to the garden to pick more carrots, and when I return to cut off the tops and wash them, Dennis told everyone that "One of my colleagues is working with a cake, the other is working with little miracles."

 (Photo found here)

I think next year I may need to plant a carrot patch of my own.

(Note: You may have noticed I used other people's carrot pictures for this post.  Well, I wanted to take pictures of my own carrots, but we never had a lull in visitors, so I couldn't get my camera out.  They frown upon us pulling out modern technology when in 18th-century costume).

Carrot Puffs, A Tasty Side Dish

 A few weeks ago at the Palace I made a dish called Carrot or Parsnip Puffs, from Elizabeth Smith's "The Compleat Housewife."  Here's a picture and the recipe:

Scrape and boil your carrots and parsnips tender; then scrape or mash them very fine, add to it a pint of pulp, the crumb of a penny loaf grated, or some stale bisket, if you have it, some eggs, but four whites, a nutmeg grated, some orange-flower water, sugar to your taste, a little sack and mix it up with thick cream; they must be fried in rendered suet, the liquor very hot when you put them in: put in a good spoonful in a place.

Yum, right?!  These won't actually *puff* so don't worry if your attempt looks more like a carrot hushpuppy or a carrot patty than a carrot beignet.  You are doing it right.  So, to start, get some carrots.  I think I used about six large carrots and that made quite a few puffs-- perhaps enough for between 5-7?  A penny loaf is basically a dinner roll, so grate a dinner roll for that part; a French roll would be the best kind of bread to use.  Don't worry about the "pint of pulp."

First, scrape and cut your carrots, boil them until soft, then mash them.  Add in the breadcrumbs, eggs (use only two or three), nutmeg to taste (2 tsp?), sugar to taste (perhaps 1/3 cup?), optional bit of orange-flower water (a tsp?), optional bit of sherry (a couple tablespoons?), then-- once you have the mixture tasting how you like it-- fry them in vegetable oil, butter, or lard!  Carrot puffs make a very tasty vegetable side dish for any meal.

Although, it's bit like fried carrot cake. This might be good with a cream cheese icing... hmm...

Cherries for Independence Day

Looking for a red-colored dish to compliment your 4th of July table?  How about something red, sweet, and easy to make?!  How about "Stewed Cherries To Be Eaten the Same Day?"*

This 18th-century recipe is very easy to make in your own kitchen, and takes just around half an hour to complete. You need only three ingredients: cherries, sugar, and water!  Take about a pound of cherries with their stems and pits still on/in them and put them in a pot.  Add just enough water to cover them-- you don't need to drown them.  Next, add in 3/4 pound of sugar.  Yes, you read that right.  That is exactly what the recipe calls for.  Then let them come to a good boil for about 5-10 minutes, take off the stove, and repeat.  Once you've boiled them twice or three times (until soft, but not mushy), let them cool.  When they have cooled, put them in a pretty dish and serve up with some of the sweet liquid from the pot poured over them.

To eat, pick them up by their stems, bite them off into your mouth, push out the pit with your tongue and throw it away, and enjoy!  Remember, cherry pits contain cyanide, so don't swallow them!  It's very easy to push the pit out of the stewed cherry and throw it into a trash can.  This is an incredibly tasty and simple dish to add to the table, and was very much enjoyed by all who sampled it.

Plus, next to apples and eagles, what feels more American than cherries? ;)


*Why "Same Day?"  This is as opposed to stewing cherries for cherry preserves.  The process is very similar, except you would, of course, take off the stems and pit them.

Christmas is Coming!

Once July hits, I start to tell people "Christmas is coming!"  Six months away!  I make Zan watch Rudolph and Frosty's Christmas in July with me, and I generally begin to get a bit excited about the impending cooler months.  Especially October, which is my favorite month.  Christmas is the apex of goodness before the worst months of the year.  But everything building towards Christmas and Christmas Day itself are wonderful.  I mean, Halloween!  Thanksgiving!  And it starts now!  Tonight I decided to drink a holiday cinnamon-vanilla tea, just to get in the mood.

Now, don't get me wrong I love the summer: I love hot hot nights and late night talks on porches, I love sundresses and sandals and sweet tea and strawberry-lemonade, I love swimming pools.  I'm a sunny warm-weather creature; I long for warm weather all through the sad, cold months of January, February, March and even April sometimes.  Seventy-five degrees and sunny is perfection.  But Virginia has a short spring, and Virginia in the summer is not seventy-five and sunny.  It's scorching.  It's humid.  And Florida is too, so I don't even feel like I can wish for Disney World in good conscience-- and when that's the case, you know it's bad.  And with my job, I'm outside in that grossly hot weather everyday.  By an open fire, at that.  So is it any wonder that I'm dreaming of the cooler, clearer, less muggy days of autumn?  Plus, Epcot holds their Food and Wine Festival in September, October, and November, then they start Mickey's Very Merry Christmas Parties!  Best.

I'm a huge fan of walking down Duke of Gloucester Street with an icy limeade on a hot summer day.  But the thing is, I love walking down Duke of Gloucester Street with a hot apple cider on a crisp day even more.  Christmas is coming!