HOW 20TH C. CANADIAN COOKBOOKS BOTH WROTE & ERASED HISTORY

HISTORIC KITCHEN

BY: LEAH MONCADA

Selected Recipes:
Tomato Soup Cake with Cream Cheese Frosting
Cheddar Shorties
Manoomin

The 20th century saw many periods of change (flavoured with surprisingly persistent continuity). One of the biggest catalysts for change was of course, the wartime period. Looking at repositories of wartime recipes is a fascinating glimpse of how Canadian Cookery and home life changed. However, I also learned that while cookbooks are a unique method to illuminate history, they can also actively erase important histories as well. Lest we assume that cookbooks are entirely honest and forthright in where foods come from, let us critically examine one of the first compilations of publicly contributed Canadian recipes: the Centennial 1967 Canadian Cook Book, the product of a joint endeavour between the Laura Secord Chocolatier and the Canadian Home Economics Association.

In this post I shall use recipes from the following two cookbooks, in addition to a recipe saved in oral history form:

57 Ways to Use Heinz Condensed Soup. Toronto: H. J. Heinz of Canada, 1944. Print.

The Canadian Home Economics Association, comp. The Laura Secord Canadian Cookbook. 5th ed. Toronto: McClelland & Stewart, 1971. Print.

In this post I venture beyond my usual practice of relying upon other food historians to adapt old recipes. Due to the shared technology and recipe terminology, there was little need to adapt these recipes to a 21st century kitchen.

Tomato Soup Cake

57 Ways to Use Heinz Condensed Soups, Heinz Company of Canada LTD, 1944

Tomato Soup Cake. Photo: Leah Moncada.

3/4 cup shortening

1 1/4 cups sugar

2 eggs

1 10 oz. can Heinz Condensed Cream of Tomato Soup

3/4 cup water

1 tsp baking soda

3 cups sifted all-purpose flour

1 tbsp baking powder

1 tsp cinnamon

1 tsp nutmeg

1 tsp cloves

Cream shortening and sugar thoroughly. Add eggs and beat well. Combine Soup, water and baking soda. [In a separate bowl,] Sift together flour, baking powder and spices. Add the Soup mixture and sifted dry ingredients alternately, stirring after each addition. Pour into a greased pan (9" x 9" x 2"). Bake in a moderate oven (350F) for 55 minutes. When cool, frost with Cream Cheese frosting (recipe below). Note: If desired 3/4 cup seedless raisins may be added before patter is poured into pan.

Cream Cheese Frosting

57 Ways to Use Heinz Condensed Soups, Heinz Company of Canada LTD, 1944

1 package (4 oz.) cream cheese

1 1/2 cups confectioners' (icing) sugar

1/2 tbsp butter

1/2 tsp vanilla

Beat cream cheese with rotary beater (hand beater) until smooth. Add confectioners' sugar and continue beating until well blended. Add butter and vanilla.

Front cover, "57 Ways to Use Heinz Condensed Soups", 1944. Photo: Leah Moncada.

Inside cover, "57 Ways to Use Heinz Condensed Soups", 1944. Photo: Leah Moncada.

"Canada has determined to change the eating habits of a nation, because she has learned that efficient production of food is only half the victory. It takes efficient consumption, too, to give full meaning to the slogan, ‘Food will win the war.’" -A. Fromer, 1942

The wartime periods serve as nexus points of radical change within Canadian kitchens. In the First World War, newspapers published special 'wartime menus' that encouraged substitution of high-demand items. Previously unregulated food items became limited or heavily controlled. The Second World War saw further steps being taken by the Government to regulate the food economy. The Government took unprecedented steps aimed to transform the Canadian diet, through campaigns that pushed 'patriotic' dishes, the launching of a national nutrition campaign, and the regulation of production, distribution and price on thousands of food items. In this feature by the Food Network on wartime recipes you can see the result of the heavy regulation on meat, sugar and flour. There are such recipes as "Eggless, Butterless, Milkless Cake," "Beef loaf" and "Carrot and Honey Cookies". All of these steps were an attempt to save food on the Homefront in order to feed the Soldiers and Allies in Europe.

This cookbook belongs to the collection of Musings' own Natania Sherman! (You can read more about her vintage recipe pamphlets in this post). I poured over her collection with starry-eyed delight and found this little treasure by the Heinz Company from 1944. 

This was a delicious cake! I gather that it was included in this recipe book almost as a dare, all of the other entries are meatloaves, casseroles, sauces and the like. It smelled very much like pumpkin pie while in the oven, and tasted much like my Grandmother's spice cake. The use of tomato soup results in a deliciously moist and rich cake body. I highly recommend!


Cheddar Shorties
The Laura Secord Canadian Cookbook, The Canadian Home Economics Association, 1971

1 cup all purpose flour

1/2 tsp paprika (or more)

1/4 tsp dry mustard

pinch cayenne

1/2 cup butter

1/2 lb. (2 cups, 225g) shredded and packed cheddar cheese

Sift flour, paprika, dry mustard and cayenne together. In a separate bowl, cream the butter. Gradually blend the shredded cheese into the butter. Add in the flour mixture and knead. Form the dough into rolls, about 1 inch in diameter, and chill until firm. 

Slice into 1/4 inch rounds. Place on greased baking sheet. Brush with milk and sprinkle with poppy seeds.

Bake at 400F for 8-10 minutes, watching closely.

This is something of a holiday and potluck favourite in our family, and it has fallen upon my hands to whip it out at various occasions. My family has, and I say this with great affection, all the self restraint of starving squirrels in front of banquet of nuts after a particularly harsh winter when it comes to these cookies. (I include myself in this behaviour.) You eat one, two, blink, and all of a sudden you've consumed 14. Over the holiday season I probably bake this recipe on at least three occasions, usually at twice the amount. (And let me tell you, nothing says love like repeatedly being willing to shred a pound of cheddar cheese. And then kneading it.)

This particular cookbook belong to my Grandmother, and is the source of a number of family dishes. Over the past holiday break I poured over it and noticed a strong appearance of cheddar in the cheese options. I came to wonder, is Canada particularly obsessed with cheddar over other cheeses? With further research, I discovered that our own humble nation is actually revered internationally for our ability to create delicious cheddar! We just so happen to have the perfect combination of soil, climate, ingredients and livestock to make perfect cheddar. Canadian exports of cheddar in 1904 were, wait for it, 234 million pounds. That made cheddar the second largest export after timber. Goodness gracious. In today's world of abundantly available processed cheese, our cheddar exports are much more meagre, more in the range of 5 million pounds.

Front Cover, "Laura Secord Canadian Cook Book" 1971. Photo: Leah Moncada. 

I want to mention the source of these recipes as an artifact in the history of interpretation. In 1967 Canada celebrated 100 years as a confederated nation. Most people think of the Centennial with an image of Expo 67, but another popular celebratory item was this Laura Secord Canadian Cookbook, originally published in 1966. It claims to be the first publicly sourced cookbook, that brought together submissions from home cooks across the nation. Previous cookbooks collected recipes in small groups of individuals, rather than open to any household across the entire country. It frames itself as both a cookbook as well as an educational tool on Canadian cuisine. Each entry has a short interpretive text on the history or provenance of the recipe.

This is a great example of why inclusivity is so critical to interpretation. Reading through the interpretive text with a critical eye, it is striking how much the authors choose to not include. For example, there are a number of First Nations, Inuit, or Metis recipes, yet these recipes are almost never attributed to those peoples. Not attributing First Nations origin or history was a common occurrence in cookbooks of this time. On this web-archived series at Library and Archives Canada, you can see the practice of speaking about First Nations cooking (and existence) as though it is entirely in the past. In the Laura Secord Cook Book, the interpretive texts for Succotosh and Bannock go on at length about "settlers," erasing the importance (or origin) of these foods in First Nations history, and the presence of First Nations as active peoples in Canada at this time.

Excerpted recipes for Succotash from the 1971 "Laura Secord Canadian Cook Book". Photo: Leah Moncada.

If I were to rewrite the interpretive text for Succotash, as seen above in the Laura Secord Canadian Cook Book, I might say something along the lines of:

Succotash is a popular First Nations and Native American dish that has entered the kitchens of many North Americans. Usually based upon the Three Sisters (corns, beans, and squash), succotash has many variations and can also include other ingredients such as smoked or salted meats, herbs, and other vegetables. It is especially important amongst the Haudenosaunee. Early immigrants from Europe adapted succotash recipes into their cooking due to the abundance of its ingredients and ease of preparation.

However, the above passage is far from perfect. It is silent on the intercultural interaction between these two groups of people. I would edit it further, after conducting additional research and consultation.

Manoomin
a Metis family recipe

Photo: Leah Moncada.

1 cup wild Canadian rice, rinsed

4 cups water

salt

seasonal berries (recommended raspberries, blueberries, blackberries)

maple syrup

Put the rice and water together into a pot, and add a pinch of salt. Bring to a boil and let simmer for 45-60minutes. There should be some water left in the pot, and you should see the rice starting to split. When the rice is somewhat soft, (with a little bit of texture still) it is done.

Strain the rice and put into a large bowl. Add large handfuls of berries, and drizzle with maple syrup. Recommend: a package each of berries, and about 1/2 cup of maple syrup.

Manoomin is a delicious, healthy, and incredibly easy dish to prepare. I absolutely loved the taste, which is somehow both nutty and fresh. A very good friend of mine, Jade Huguenin showed me this recipe. She remembers it from her childhood, growing up in a Metis home. Traditionally manoomin is a breakfast or dessert item. Family members used to bring it as a gift when they came to visit. Jade now works in an Indigenous workplace, and taught me a little about First Nations cooking in relation to her work. Her workplace recently completed a research project on Traditional Foods and Diabetes, which you can see in this beautifully shot video illustrating the importance of maintaining traditional food practices.

Photo: Leah Moncada.

Manoomin is a highly labour intensive rice to harvest, but serves as an important ingredient for many dishes, in addition to being eaten on its own. In this video you can follow along the story of one man as he beautiful articulates the rhythm of harvesting and practice of giving thanks out on the water.

Want more Historic Kitchen? 
This will be my last post on Musings, as I will proudly graduate this coming June. I have greatly enjoyed this journey with you all over the last 11 months, so much so that I cannot bring myself to end it! If you are interested in following along on my continued escapades, I invite to join me on my new website! It's been wonderful folks, have a lovely summer.

WHEN YOUR BISCUITS ARE LIKE ROCKS: INCLUDING IMPERFECTION IN HISTORICAL INTERPRETATION

HISTORIC KITCHEN
CANADA PART 2: 19TH CENTURY ONTARIO COOKING FT. IMMIGRANTS FROM THE ISLES

BY: LEAH MONCADA

Selected Recipes
New Cock-a-Leekie soup
"Excellent Hot Tea Cakes"
Cranberry Pie

This second edition of Canadian cooking shall feature Immigrants from the British Isles in 19th century Ontario cooking! All recipes are sourced from Beeson, P. (1993). Macdonald was late for dinner: A slice of culinary life in early Canada. Peterborough, Ont: Broadview Press.

If you've ever watched "Chopped: Canada", you can sympathize with me when I say that I would be first on the chopping block. Do I cook with enthusiasm? Heck yes! Bravery? You betcha! Skill? Eh....in time, I tell myself, in time. Many times over this Historic Kitchen project I have looked askance at my final product....doubting that I have made it correctly. I would bet good money that my attempt at Patina of Pears would make even the dour Cato the Elder roll over laughing. The difficulty with creating recipes of unfamiliar dishes is that you have no idea if you are wrong, or how you are wrong. Just that unpleasant niggling sensation that something must be different....since "there is no way this thing should be so jiggly/...neon.../crunchy/[insert questionable adjective here]!"

On my quest to make dishes from 19th century immigrants, I once again encountered the issue of producing questionable products. But instead of despair over my rock-like biscuits, I thought, "well who said everyone in the 19th century made PERFECT biscuits? Everytime???" They didn't. Human error is an entirely everyday phenomenon that we cannot exclude from our historical narrative or interpretation simply because it doesn't look nice when staged. "Ugly" food or brick biscuits are just as representative and informative of their lives as elegantly plated and fluffy cloud-like rolls!

Working historic kitchen at Montgomery's Inn, interpreted to the 1840s. Photo: Leena Kilback

I recently had the pleasure of speaking with our MMSt colleague Leena Kilback, who is a former intern and current volunteer at a local historic kitchen from the 19th century. Montgomery Inn's is one of Toronto's Historic sites, interpreted to its heyday of the 1840s. It was a tavern, assembly hall and boarding house during a time when European travellers and settlers of English, Irish, and Scottish origin were flooding to the area. Before the multinational wave of immigrants in the early 20th century (and steadily onwards), Ontario received most of its immigrants from the British Isles (which include the islands of Great Britain, Ireland, the Hebrides, and many smaller islands). It would not be until closer to the turn of the century that immigrants of Polish, Italian, Russian, and American (such as the Pennsylvania who settled in Markham) ethnicity would rise in number.

Today, Montgomery's Inn continues its tradition and practice of hospitality, not only as a rentable venue, but also for hosting events and food programs around the history and context of 19th century Toronto. The Inn hosts a weekly tea service, a monthly "Thirsty Thursday" pub night, and bakes bread using historic Ontario stone ground mill flour for their weekly food market. As practiced as their cooks are, mistakes or sooty ovens still happen! However, guests and customers are treated to only the successful food items. The rare misshapen jellies or sooty loaves of bread are given to volunteers to enjoy. Display and acknowledgement of less-than-perfect food is one thing. Serving it is another entirely.

School programs allow children to help bake molasses cookies by hand grinding nutmeg and grinding cone sugar using a mortal and pestle to demonstrate labour of 19th century cooking. Holiday and themed events allow for lavish table settings consisting of historic recipes, using modern adaptations of shrimp inside moulded gelatin, christmas cakes, holiday cookies, autumnal pies, and various arranged platters of period themed food. Leena described the tireless research she conducted into table settings and displays so as to authentically present the visual splendour of parties in this era. (Even though the Inn hosted boarders, not parties, it takes advantage of the opportunity to interpret both!)

"The Morrison family - Came from South Uist to Canada in 1887 and settled in Grand Valley, near Cochrane. Image courtesy of Glenbow Museum." Source.

In the 19th century the publication of cookbooks became more common as households of recent immigrant and working families turned to economy. Cookbooks were being written for those who were not professional cooks or living in wealthy homes, but women who's primary role was seen as manager of the household. As found in the preface of this 1868 Dominion Home Cookbook, it was written for "practical utility" and economy. Such cookbooks served as manuals for household economics, but also as bastions of cultural cuisine from their communities of origin. In this Sophie Coe Prize-winning Essay, the author uses an 1840 era French Canadian cookbook to demonstrate how foodways, and the act of compiling a cookbook, were utilized to promote and preserve (or "fossilize" as the author so puts it) the traditional 17th century French cooking amongst the presence of so many identities in the Canadian landscape. Similarly, cookbooks of Scottish, English, or various other cuisines served the same purpose.


New Cock-a-Leekie Soup- MacDonald Was Late to Dinner, Patricia Beeson
The Canadian Housewife's Manual of Cookery, Hamilton, 1861

Cock-a-Leekie Soup. Photo: Leah Moncada

2 lbs veal cutlet or fowl

1/2 cup butter

2 onions, sliced

1/4 lbs lean bacon

3 cloves

2 teaspoons salt

1 teaspoon sugar

1/2 teaspoon pepper

1/2 cup and 10 cups water

2 lbs leeks

16 cups water

18 fresh prunes

Cut the meat into pieces. Put in pan with butter, onions, bacon, cloves, salt, sugar, pepper and 1/2 cup water. Cook, turning over until a white glaze appears on the bottom. Add 10 cups of water, and simmer for 30 minutes. Pass through a sieve and save the best pieces of meat. 

In another pan blanche the white parts of the leeks for 10 minutes in 16 cups of water, then drain. Boil the stock and half the leeks together till reduced by half. Add the other half of leeks, meat and prunes. Simmer for 30 minutes and serve. 

During this influx of immigrants from the Isles, Hamilton became heavily populated with those of Scottish ancestry. This soup, sometimes called Scotland's national dish, is a nice example of something they would have eaten in this time. (Interesting to note, it was one of two soups for lunch on the Titanic the day it sank!) I loved the added depth from the prune flavour, and thought this soup was quite good! Beeson notes that the inclusion of prunes reveals this dish to hail from Edinburgh in particular. (My own research has revealed that prunes are considered a traditional method that fell out of favour in the mid 19th century in some parts of Scotland, and remained in practice in some areas to this day. The reason for citing Edinburgh has remained elusive!)

Dundurn Castle, Hamilton ON. Source.

One of the famous Canadian figures of Scottish ancestry is Sir Allan Napier MacNab, whose stately home our MMSt Class is visiting today! During the 19th century, important visitors to Niagara Falls would reside in the halls of Dundurn Castle. Among these guests are such names as Lord and Lady Dufferin, who visited in 1872, and the Prince of Wales (later Edward VII) during his tour of Canada in 1860. MacNab served as Premier of the Province of Canada (the united Canadas before Confederation) from 1854-1856.


Catharine Parr Traill's "Excellent Hot Tea Cakes" - MacDonald Was Late to Dinner, Patricia Beeson
The Canadian Settler's Guide, C. P. Traill, 1860

"Adamantine Hot Tea Cakes" Source.

Whoops! Wrong photo! ;)

"Excellent Hot Tea Cakes." (Veritable bricks that they were.) Photo: Leah Moncada

2 cups flour

2 tbsp butter, softened

1 tsp cream of tartar

1/2 tsp baking soda

milk to mix

Grease baking sheet. Sift flour, cream of tartar, and baking soda. Rub in butter with fingertips. Mix with milk to form a soft dough. Roll to 1 inch thickness. Cut out with a tumbler. Bake at 400F for 20-25 minutes. Serve hot.

I learned something valuable about historical reinterpretation of foodways in this dish. I debated not including this recipe, as the biscuits could've built houses. "I didn't make them right, they aren't the real thing!" Yet, who says imperfect biscuits aren't just as faithful to historic interpretation than exquisitely crafted ones? Didn't historic cooks also turn out burned pastries, tough biscuits, overdone meat, deflated soufflé, and overly salty soup? Of course they did! "Perfect" and artistically staged dishes in historical reinterpretation of foods is actually less authentic than the messy, maybe burnt, products of a busy and hectic working kitchen. It is important to remember when we walk through historic kitchens and dinning rooms that the clean, quiet, warm, and organized spaces are falsely represented as such.

This recipe comes from Catharine Parr Traill, a famous Canadian author and botanist who wrote extensively about her immigration from England, settler life in the 'backwoods', and new life in Peterborough, Ontario.


Cranberry Pie- MacDonald Was Late to Dinner, Patricia Beeson
Mrs. McMaster, The Canadian Home Cook Book, complied by the Ladies of Toronto and Chief Cities and Towns in Canada, 1877

Mrs. McMaster's Cranberry Pie. Photo: Leah Moncada

4 cups of cranberries

juice of 1/2 a lemon

1/2 cup sugar

puff or shortcrust pastry for 1 pie

icing sugar if short crust

Pick over and wash berries. Put in a dish with lemon and sugar. Cover with pastry and bake at 350F for 45 minutes. If short crust used, take from over 5 minutes early, cover with icing sugar, return to oven, and complete baking.

The McMasters have a strong legacy in Ontario. Known for her "will of unbending steel," Mrs Elizabeth McMaster served as one of the founding members of the Hospital for Sick Children in Toronto, whose establishment helped Toronto's child mortality rate to plummet. She served as Treasurer for the new Hospital, and started a wildly popular cookbook fundraiser, The Canadian Home Cook Book, complied by the Ladies of Toronto and Chief Cities and Towns in Canada. McMaster wrote the preface and contributed a few of her own recipes, including the above (delicious) Cranberry Pie. A huge success, the book would come to run over 80 editions (eventually dropping "Canadian" from the title for American audiences). Her husband headed the Bank of Commerce and founded McMaster University.

You may notice Beeson has written options for both puff pastry as well as short crust. Short crust is a more crumbly, tough pastry that is more liquid resistant than puff pastry. It is commonly used in the bottom of quiches and heavy pies that have runny fillings. Puff pastry is the delicate light and flaky pastry used in pies and light pastries. I include this for any cooks who want to add pastry terminology to their Trivial Pursuit arsenal!


Next time on Historic Kitchen: The 20th saw a diverse set of cooking practices, from Wartime cooking to Centennial celebrations, as well as modern First Nations cuisine!

A FINE MESS: 18TH C. UPPER CANADA

HISTORIC KITCHEN

CANADA PART 1: 18TH C. UPPER CANADA

BY: LEAH MONCADA

Selected Recipes

Chocolate Cream

Shrewsbury Cakes

This term I shall explore Canadian Cuisine, in three parts.

Firstly, I would like to say that yes! Such a thing as Canadian Cuisine does exist. This country has a huge variety of regionally unique, beloved, and sometimes iconically controversial food items. Unfortunately, Canada has long fought against bad stereotypes or a disbelief in good cuisine. Colonel Sanders famously loathed Canadian food, calling it "plumb tasteless!" This series shall feature Canadian recipes of the late 18th and early 19th centuries in this post, and followed by posts exploring the 19th and 20th centuries.

Secondly, I would like to make a brief statement about where I am starting my journey in this three part exploration of Canadian cuisine. Many books, histories, and recountings of Canadian history begin with the First Nations, Inuit, (and later,) Metis, before moving onto settler topics. In order to highlight some of the rich and diverse foods of these three nations, I am going to feature their foodways not in the earliest post, but rather in a later post. Instead of relegating their cultures to the distant past, I want to highlight the continuous presence of their traditions throughout all of Canadian history, and into the modern day. Therefore, it is amongst the 20th century that I shall explore their recipes.

The Garrison at Fort York in 1804. Source.

The following two recipes are both from my favourite Christmas present this year, the locally published work Setting a Fine Table: Historical Desserts and Drinks from the Officers' Kitchens at Fort York, a delicious undertaking by the Food Historians at Fork York. According to the introduction, these recipes would have been served from the Mess Kitchen during social events hosted by the Fort, to which many prominent families and figures would have been invited. The attached dining and sitting rooms were an exclusive social club for early York citizens. While this social program began in the very early 19th century, most of the recipes date from the mid-late 18th century, with a few peaking into the 19th. These foods would have been found in early Canadian homes before gracing the tables of Fort York. 

Unlike our interpretation, the word mess at this time did not mean a chaotic or disorganized state (this would not come to be until the early 20th century). When we picture a mess hall before 1900, our modern understanding of mess likely skews our understanding. According to my brief etymological research, the mess of military terminology likely stems from the Middle English mes, literally meaning "food for one meal" or "one portion or course". Etymologists can trace the word even further back into Old English, Old French, and even Latin. A mess hall of the 18th century, such as the one found at Fort York should not be associated with chaos, but remembered by the fine dishes served there during the aforementioned prominent social events.

For a map of late 18th c Toronto, find one here from the Toronto Archives.

Chocolate Cream

Hannah Glasse, The Complete Confectioner; or The Whole Art of Confectionery Made Plain and Easy, 1760

Chocolate Cream. Photo: Leah Moncada.

"Take a Quart of Cream, a Pint of white Wine, and a little Juice of Lemon; sweeten it very well, lay in a sprig of Rosemary, grate some Chocolate, and mix it all together; stir them over the Fire till it is thick, and pour it into your Cups."

1 cup fruit white wine (Ontario Riesling)

1/4 cup granulated sugar

2 tsp fresh lemon juice

2 cups whipping cream

4 oz unsweetened chocolate, finely chopped

one 4-inch sprig of fresh rosemary

In a heavy bottomed sauce-pan, dissolve the sugar in the wine and lemon. Stir in the whipping cream, chocolate, and rosemary.

Raise to medium heat and whisk constantly until the chocolate melts and the mixture comes to a simmer. Simmer until the chocolate coats the back of a metal spoon (about 5-10 minutes). Strain through a fine sieve and pour into small cups or ramekins. Let cool, cover, and refrigerate. 

Can be prepared up to two days ahead when stored in the fridge.

As a chocolate junkie, boy was I looking forward to this one! However, my idea of what it would be was very different from the end result. The richness of this dessert limited my consumption to very small, spread out moments. If you're looking for a sweet French chocolate mousse, keep searching my friend, because this is not your standard chocolate pot. The rosemary and wine create a nice flavour, but not one I've ever imagined in chocolate!

The preface to Glasse's work reveals it is actually a British cookbook, but the Food Historians at Fort York are quite correct in including it, given the predominantly english background of the early residents of the town of York. This is one of the earliest cookbooks for the English household (in Britian, Ireland, or Upper Canada) that provided such a variety of recipes using sugar. It was around this time that sugar entered widespread use amongst the middle class. Recipe books from the early 18th century seem to mostly be for exclusive use in the great households.

Hannah Glasse was a prolific author throughout the second half of the 18th century, publishing multiple editions of The Complete Confectioner, including a compilation edition published as a serial over ten weeks in 1799. The title of this edition, in the practice of the time, served as full introductory paragraph:

"The complete confectioner, or, Housekeeper's guide to a simple and speedy method of understanding the whole art of confectionary : the various ways of preserving and candying, dry and liquid, all kinds of fruit, nuts, flowers, herbs, &c. And the method of keeping them fresh and fine all the year round; the different ways of clarifying sugar; with directions for making fruit pastes, bomboons, pastils, compotes, fruit ices, cream ices, marmalades, jellies, jams, cakes, puffs, biscuits, tarts, custards, cheesecakes, sweetmeats, fritters, creams, syllabubs, blanc-mange, flummeries, ornaments for grand entertainments, dragees, syrups of all kinds, nicknacks and trifles for desserts, strong cordials, oils, simple waters, milk punch that will keep 20 years, and all sorts of English wines. Also, the art of making artificial fruit, with the stalks in it, so as to resemble the natural fruit. To which are added, some bills of fare for desserts for private families / by Mrs. H. Glass, author of The art of cookery, with considerable additions and corrections, by Maria Wilson."

Shrewsbury Cakes
John Farley, The London Art of Cookery, 1800

Shrewsbury Cakes. Photo: Leah Moncada.

Beat half a pound of butter to a fine cream, and put in the same weight of flour, one egg, six ounces of beaten and sifted loaf of sugar, and half an ounce of caraway seeds. Mix them into a paste, roll them thin, and cut them round with a small glass or little tins; prick them, lay them on sheets of tin, and bake them in a slow oven.

1 cup unsalted butter, softened

1 cup granulated sugar

4 tsp caraway seeds

1 medium egg

2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour

Line 2 rimless baking sheets with parchment paper, or grease lightly.

In a large bowl beat the butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Beat in the caraway and then the egg. In three batches, stir in the flour. Press the dough together and gently knead until smooth. Divide in half and shape into two disks. Wrap separately and store in the fridge until ready to roll, keeps up to one day. Soften to room temp before rolling.

Roll out the dough one disk at a time on a well floured surface, up to 5mm (1/4 inch) thickness. With a fluted 5cm (2 inch) diameter cookie cutter, cut the dough into rounds. Arrange 2.5cm (1 inch) on prepared sheets. (Optional: using a skewer and a comb, press a diamond and dot pattern on each cake, as seen here.) Form the scraps into a new disk and reroll for more cookies until finished.

Bake in the middle rack at 350F until light golden on the bottom, about 12-15 minutes. Let firm on the sheet for 3 minutes, and transfer to racks to cool.

Lasts in the fridge up to 3 days, the freezer up to two weeks.

Shrewsbury cakes are originally from Shropshire England, and could be flavoured with savoury herbs, spices, and sometimes brandy. The inclusion of caraway, an herb familiar to those who read this post, reminds us of the long-lasting influence of Roman trade and cooking in Roman Britain. Upper Canada saw the beginnings of caraway cultivation in the early 19th c, given its immense popularity in British biscuits and cakes. It has become much less popular in the 20th and 21st centuries, found only in some breads. Personally, I thought these were delicious!

If you pay attention to the original recipe, you will see that as usual, there is no oven temperature given. I was intrigued by this "slow oven", as I have seen it named before in other recipes, and had just assumed it was a particular construction or type of stone oven. However! I have discovered my error! "Slow" and "fast" were actually used as descriptors for temperature in the days before electric ovens with our gas marks and C/F designations. "Slow oven" likely means something between 300F - 325F, though definitions of slow have varied throughout the centuries and in different parts of Europe. Cooks of my generation are likely unfamiliar to this terminology,  though my mother and grandmother's generation would have been familiar with it. The internet doesn't say where the "slow" or "fast" terminology comes from, but my mother suggests (quite logically) that it refers to the length of time it would take to cook something. (I.e. a lower temperature would cook more slowly.) As she says "it is a term that would have been very meaningful to those generations who used ovens that did not have temperature displays, but it has generally fallen out of use."

Next time on Historic Kitchen: 20th c Canada Part 1! In this post I shall explore the radical shift in culinary practices during the early twentieth century! 

MAESTRO OF THE 15TH C MILANESE KITCHEN: THE MYTH OF MARTINO'S LIBRO DE ARTE COQUINARIA

HISTORIC KITCHEN

BY: LEAH MONCADA

Selected Recipes
Mushrooms
Rashers
Cherry Pie

While perusing the shelves in Gerstein Library (yes, the Medical Sciences Library of UofT, not the first place I expected to find such a concentration of historic cookbooks either), looking for the recipe books I used over the summer to bring to the recent Musings themed iTea, I discovered this little gem:

Ballerini, L. (Ed.). (2005). The art of cooking: The first modern cookery book (J. Parzen, Trans. S. Barzini, Contr.). Berkeley: University of California Press. 

It is a translation of the Libro de Arte Coquinaria, by Martino of Como (also of Milan), a 15th century Italian chef. Martino is possibly the Early Modern World's first celebrity chef, and he is still widely idolized in Italy today. (Notice his Italian Wiki page contains much more information on his cooking practices and the themes within his writings than the English one.)

However, very little is actually known about him, and it is sometimes very hard to separate the man from the myth. Four Medieval Italian recipe manuscripts are attributed to Martino, though only one, in the Riva del Garda Library, cites him directly as the author. The Pierpont Morgan Library posits that some of the recipes within their Neopolitan Collection can be attributed to Martino, forming the earliest collection of his works.

Cherry Pie, inspired by a recipe from the Jewish Quarter of Medieval Rome. Photo: Leah Moncada.

The 15th century was a critical time in Italy. They were very aware of their own cultural growth, and wealthy patrons eagerly supported artists, architects, and in the case of Martino, chefs. One of Martino's more famous patrons was Duke Sforza of Milan. (Interesting anecdote tangent! Sforza actually hired Leonardo Da Vinci to mechanize his kitchen in an attempt to cut costs, which resulted in a comedy (or catastrophe) of non-efficiency.) After working for Sforza, Martino served as cook for Cardinal Trevisan, and he (possibly...might have...we hope with academic enthusiasm...) eventually found his way to the Papal kitchens at the Vatican.

Martino had the luck to find a wealthy fan of his work in the fifteenth century Italian humanist Bartolomeo Sacchi, who lauded Martino in text right around the time the printing press was becoming a standard feature in the cultural life of Europe. Praise for Martino found itself repeated far and wide. His work was translated from Italian into Latin, and reached new audiences across the European continent. And one could argue, immortalized in time.

The title of his work reads much like a resume. Below is a composite of some of the versions I found in Ballerini's book: 

Cookery Book

Composed and Compiled

By the Eminent Master Martino Di Rossi

from the Milanese Valley of Bregna, Diocese of the Descendant

from the Villa de Turre

Born to the Holy House of San Martino Vidualis

to the Illustrious Seigneur Gian Giacomo Trivulzio, et cetera

a Most Prudent Expert in this Art

As You Will Read Below.

Once Cook to the Most Reverend

Cardinal Trevisan,

Patriarch of Aquileia.

You can find an Italian translation of Martino's works here.


Mushrooms, p. 68
Recipe adapted by Stefania Barzini, p170.

Martino's Mushrooms. Photo: Leah Moncada.

6 large (porcini) mushrooms

3 tbsp extra virgin olive oil

2 garlic cloves, pealed and minced

1 bunch Italian parsley, finely chopped

salt and fresh ground black pepper

Slice the tips of the mushrooms off, and slice in lengthwise halves or quaters. In a bowl, combine the rest of the ingredients. Rub the mixture into the mushrooms gently. Cook on a hot griddle or cast iron pan, turning once, about 5m per side. Serve hot.

Barzini reminds us to never scrub our mushrooms, and to wash them as gently as possible. In fact, she even recommends not washing them at all. After all, as the Italians say, quel che non strozza ingrassa. "If it doesn't make you choke, it can only be good for you." This can also translated as "...it can only fatten you." The dual translation shows evidence for a very different relationship with food than the North American culture of social pressures and media standards of beauty. This saying comes from the late 14th c, when any of the poor who were suffering from the plague (or the many other ailments) were sent to lazzaretti to live out their last days in dirty conditions, and sleeping on straw mats. They were fed "every concievable mixture". In these settings, society recognized that indeed, fattening up could only be good for you.

This recipe was absolutely delicious, and you all have to try it. Seriously, put these ingredients on your shopping list. RIGHT NOW. The rest of this post can wait.


Rashers, p. 58
Recipe adapted by Stefania Barzini, p178.
Carbonata, similar to straccetti

Rashers and Martino's Mushrooms. Photo: Leah Moncada.

2 lbs beef fillet, sliced paper thin

3 tbsp extra virgin olive oil

1 garlic glove, peeled

2 or 3 fresh bay leaves

1 sprig rosemary

4 tbsp aromatic balsamic vinegar

juice of 1 lemon

juice of 1 orange

fresh ground black pepper

1 tsp ground cinnamon

1 tbsp finely chopped Italian parsley

salt

Cut each slice of beef into 3 or 4 pieces. Heat the olive oil in a frying pan large enough to fit all the meat. Add the garlic to the oil, and allow the garlic flavour to infuse with the slowly heating oil. Do not allow the garlic to brown, or the oil to boil. Add all the ingredients together in a bowl with the beef. Remove the garlic from the pan. Add the beef mixture to the pan, and sauté on high heat 6 or 7 minutes per side. Do not overcook. When the liquid has reduced a bit, season with salt and serve hot.

Rashers, almost done! Photo: Leah Moncada.

This dish of fried or grilled fatty meat is a distant ancestor of the italian carbonata. You can see this in the name, for it was cooked over "hot coals", or carboni in Italian. It is also similar to the straccetti of Central Italy, which is beef cooked in olive oil (straccetti meaning 'little rags').

There was a very heavy citrus flavour that I found unfamiliar with red meat. In fact, it quite dominated the dish. This might result from the fact that none of Martino's recipes include any ingredient quantities. Barzini, in making her adaptations, would have needed to experiment again and again to give us numbers, and her results would be based upon the strength and quality of her own ingredients. (This could be a not-so-subtle reminder that I need to replace my aging cinnamon!)

Cherry Pie, p. 84.
Adapted by Stefania Barzini, p. 186.

Girl with Cherries ca. 1491-95. Source.

For the crust:

2 1/2 cups flour

8 tbsp softened butter, plus extra to grease the tin

3/4 cup sugar

2 egg yolks

grated zest of 1 lemon

For the filling:

2/3 lb ricotta (500g)

2 eggs

1 cup sugar

1 tsp ground cinnamon

1 tsp fresh grated ginger

1 tbsp rosewater

2/3 lb sour cherries, pitted and chopped

Photo: Leah Moncada

Preheat the oven to 375F.

Make a short crust. Combine all ingredients in a bowl, working the dough vigourously. Cover and let sit in a cool place for 30m. If too dry, add small amounts of water until it can hold a loose ball. Split the dough in half. Roll out one half and use to line a greased 9 inch pie tin. Save the other half for a lattice top.

Drain the ricotta and pass it through a sieve. Combine it with the rest of the ingredients. Add the filling to the dough-lined tin. Level off. Roll remaining dough out and cut long rectangles. Weave the dough into a lattice top. Bake in preheated oven for 45 minutes. Let cool.

Ballerini says this Cherry Pie is a classic from the Jewish quarter's cuisine in Rome. This was before the establishment of the walled ghetto, in which the resulting isolation facilitated the creation of an even more divergent dialect and cuisine.

I was very curious over the instruction to include a lattice top, as I saw the original recipe includes *no* top (making it a tart, rather than a pie). A quick search revealed that the actuality of pie crusts has alluded historians, due to the customary vague writing style of recipes. (Note, they are vague to us, but would likely have been more than sufficient to contemporary cooks who would have supplemented the recipes with their own kitchen knowledge, as we do today with our own recipes.)

I found the mix of tart cherry, spicy cinnamon, and creamy cheese to be delightful! (Though upon offering slices to friends, only one proved brave enough to try one with me.)


I will return next term with another season of Historic Kitchen, this time much closer to home! I will be exploring the foodways of Canada throughout our rich history, including First Peoples, Wartime, and more!

"LET FOOD BE THY MEDICINE AND MEDICINE BE THY FOOD" - AND OTHER MISCONCEPTIONS ABOUT MEDIEVAL CUISINE

HISTORIC KITCHEN

BY: LEAH MONCADA

Selected Recipes:
Hypocras
Blancmange
Mushrooms Olivier

(Incidentally, all of these recipes moonlight as ‘00s metal, synthpop, or folkrock bands. Hey, music makes the best medicine.)

Fest of the Peacock, Lille 5th c. The star of this show is obviously the cat-creature, though I also appreciate the lurking poison-tester with a unicorn horn. Source.

Continuing on my European journey, I decided to visit Medieval France. Amongst the fantastic tights, (wait, is that supposed to be a cat?) peacock dishes, and great architecture, I learned a few things about the Medieval world from their cuisine, and learned to question a few things I thought I knew.

This week on Historic Kitchen I use:

Wheaton, B. (1983). Savouring the past: The French kitchen and table from 1300 to 1789. London: Chatto & Windus.

There was a delightful selection of recipes to choose from for today's post, such as “Turkey stuffed with raspberries and herbs,” “Milk made into bacon,” or “Iced cheese”. Examining the ingredients, I was always struck by how complex each dish must be in the construction of flavours. (Which, after a summer of Roman dishes that were all some combination of four flavours - honey, pepper, fish oil, and wine vinegar -was positively salivating!)

The Duc de Berry, feasting like only the French know how. Source.

When you think of Medieval food, what do you imagine? Burley men ripping into hunks of meat with their bare hands, haphazardly tossing the bones onto the floor? Tasteless porridge and plain bread? HAH! If you still need convincing after our "sallat" last week (and truly, salad is too bland of a word for that rollercoaster of taste), let me enlighten you on Medieval dining, which was actually quite sophisticated, flavourful, and rather thoughtful.

Hypocras, Ipocras
"Viandier", in Jérôme Pichon and Georges Vicaire, eds., Le Viandier di Guillame Tirel, dit Taillevent, 1st edition, pg 98

Pour faire une pinte d’ypocras, il fault troys treseaux synanome fine et pares, ung treseau du mesche ou deux qui veult, demy treseau de girofle et graine, de sucre fin six ounces; et mettés en pouldre, et la fault toute mettre en ung couleur avec le vin, et le pot dessoubz, et le passés tant qu’il soit coulé, et tant plus est passé et mieulx vault, mais que il ne soit esventé.

Hypocras. (Where else do you need so many cinnamon sticks?) Photo: Leah Moncada.

3 cups dry red wine

2 ounces fresh ginger, sliced and peeled

1 tbsp whole cloves

2 ounces stick cinnamon

1 tbsp cardamom

3 ½ cups sugar

In a stainless steel pot, heat all ingredients together, while stirring to dissolve the sugar. Do not let it come to a boil. Cook for about 15 minutes. Strain through a fine sieve to remove all the spices. Let cool. Serve chilled or at room temperature.

As Wheaton says, “this is a heavy, pungent, sweet drink, and the modern diner may wish to add a second bottle of wine.” I concur! Serve it heavily diluted in water, or else use twice as much wine for the modern taste. Make sure to use dry wine, and it doesn’t have to be good wine. Do *not* use powdered cinnamon, but whole spices where ever possible, as it clouds the wine. (The Viandier does call for powdered spices.)

This example comes from the 14th c. Sugar would have been exceedingly different in Medieval Europe, and certainly produced a very different taste. Considered a spice and a luxury product, sugar was sourced in Sicily or Spain. Honey was used as the sweetener for the masses.

Likely descending from the Graeco-Roman tradition of Spiced Wine, Hypocras lasted for many centuries, many of the ingredients remained familiar. However, depending on the region, time period, or socio-economic class, the spiced wine can include slightly different additives. Variations included spices such as "grains of paradise" or additional liquors such as brandy.

Women drinking, Watriquet de Couvin 14th century Source.

It was sometimes used as a medicinal ingredient to promote digestion. Upon reading that tidbit, I wan't surprised. I have been hard-pressed to find a food item that wasn’t ever thought medicinal in the Middle Ages by someone or other. (Once again, please reference last post's "sallat"!) Their knowledge of medicinal herbal qualities is truly to be admired at some times, but also questioned at others. (I will note that after testing, users amongst my peers noticed a distinct hindering of digestion.)

The quote "let food be thy medicine and medicine be thy food" has been attributed to Hippocrates and widely referenced when discussing Medieval food and medicine. BUT, not without some heated debate. When analyzing primary sources from the Middle Ages, have we oversimplified the relationship between Medieval medicine and food? Hippocrates has been one of the most quoted sources influencing our interpretation of food and medicine in the Middle Ages, but should we be so quick to assume that the Middle Ages conflated food and medicine, or if this was simply a hyperbolic turn of phrase?

Well. There's a research topic if anyone is looking for one.


Blancmange of capon for a sick person, Blanc mengier d’ung chappn pour ung malade
From the Sion manuscript of the Viandier, Paul Aebischer, “Un manuscrit valaisian du ‘Viandier’ attribué à Taillevent,” p. 95

Cuisiez en yaue; broiez amandez grant foison, du broion du chappon; deffaitez de vostre boillon, passez parmy l’estamine, faitez boullir tant qu’il soit liant; pour taillier, versez en une escuelle ; fillez demie douzene d’amandez pellez, et les asséez sur la moitié du bout de vostre escuelle; en l’autre moitié, de pepins de pomme de grenade et du succre.

Blancmange from the Sion manuscript of the Viandier. Photo: Leah Moncada.

2 ½ lbs breast meat of capon

2 quarts good chicken stock

1 cup finely ground almonds

1 tsp ginger

½ tsp cardamom

6 blanched almonds, slivered

pomegranate seeds

sugar

Poach the capon breasts in the chicken stock until they are cooked (20 minutes). Once cooled, cut up into small pieces and grind in a food processor. Beat in the ground almonds and spices. Slowly add some of the broth to make the mixture “agreeably moist but still rather stiff”. Scoop into a bowl, add almonds to one half and pomegranates to the other. Sprinkle sugar over the second half.

While optional to the recipe, these particular spices were found on a shopping list for blancmange in the Ménagier de Paris, a 14th c guidebook for wifely behaviour written in the guise of a fictional man instructing his younger wife. I had been under the misconception that spices were frequently used to cover the taste of meat that was past its prime. That is, until I stumbled upon vehement medievalists who devote much ink to arguing against this "Moldy Meat Myth". The publication of one chemist in the mid-twentieth century has upheld the surprisingly stubborn belief that rotten meat was regularly consumed during the Middle Ages, when in fact meat was salted, cured, smoked, and treated. Bad meat is bad meat, and they knew just as well as we do it would have made them sick.

Such food preservation techniques would have drastically altered the taste of meats. However, fresh meat was as common as preserved. (Chickens for the peasants, while the nobility could afford the more expensive meats.) In the winter, meals were restricted to preserved meats. However, cooks frequently used recipes such as soups to 'restore' the meats by infusing them with liquids again. It is important to remember that food preservation methods played a key role in the medieval diet.

Blancmange is one of the recipes from the earliest manuscript of the Viandier. Its method of preparation, while simple, has fluctuated slightly over the ages to reflect the changing trends in common foods. A quick history of blancmange, and its use of sugar and almonds, reveals more about the history of France than one might assume.

Due to its bland nature and soft texture, blancmange was probably very easy to consume on a queasy stomach. (Note that this is very different from being medicinal.)

Blancmange was also frequently used as a "liaison," or binding agent in French cuisine. I decided to try it out myself, and selected an absolutely divine mushroom recipe:


Mushrooms Olivier Champignons à l’Olivier
François La Varenne, Le Cvisinier françois (1654), p. 121

Estans bien nettoyez, coupez les par quartiers, et les lavez dans plusieurs eaux l’un apres l’autre pour en osterla terre; Estanns bien nets, mettez-les entre deux plats avec un oignon et du sel, puis sur le rechaut, afin qu’ils jetterez leur eau. Estans pressez entre deux asiettes, prenez du beurre bien frais, avec persil et siboule, et les fricassez; apres celas mettez-les mitonner, et lors qu’ils seront bien cuits, vous y pouvez mettre de la cresme, ou du blancmager, et servez.

Mushrooms Olivier. Photo: Leah Moncada.

4 cups mushrooms, washed and quartered

1 small onion

½ tsp salt

¼ cup cream or blancmange (optional)

3 tbsp butter

2 tbsp chopped parsley

2 tbsp thinly sliced scallions

In a heavy skillet, slowly heat the mushrooms, onion, salt and 1 tbsp butter. Stir frequently, and cook until the mushroom juice collects along the bottom. Drain it off into a small container for later use in another recipe (broth or sauce). Add the remaining butter, the parsley, and scallions. Cook until the mushrooms and scallions have just begun to change colour. Add the blancmange and stir until evenly melted over the mushrooms.

As I mentioned above, this recipe is a WINNER. It would be interesting to see how it tastes with mushrooms that would have been common to Medieval France.

I hope you enjoyed this session of Historic Kitchen!