Strawberry Pudding

It is strawberry season again and
Strawberye
is the name of this recipe from the English medieval era.  The recipe, as best I can write it with this keyboard, is as follows:


Take strawberys & waysshe hem in tyme of zere in gode red wyne; than strayne thorwe a cloth, & do hem in a potte with gode almaunde mylke.  Alay it with amyndoun other with the flower of rys, & make it chargeaunt, and lat it boyle; and do therein roysonys of courance, safroun, pepir, sugre grete plente, pouder gyngere, canel, galyngale; poynte it with vynegre, & a lytil whyte grece put thereto; colour it with alkenade, & droppe it abowt, plante it with the graynes of pomegarnad, & than serve it forth.

The book this comes from (one of my favorites!) is Pleyn Delit:  Medieval Cookery for Modern Cooks  by Hieatt, Hosington, and Butler.  It is recipe #114 (the book has no page numbers).

ISBN 0-8020-7632-7

Here is their modern redaction:

2 - 4 oz ground almonds
1 1/4 cups water
1 pint fresh strawberries
1/4 - 1/2 cup red wine
2 tablespoons rice flour
1/3 cup sugar
pinch each pepper, ginger, cinnamon, salt
1 tablespoon butter (or lard)
2 teaspoons red wine vinegar
2 tablespoons dried currants

First draw up an almond milk with the almonds and the water. **Directions paraphrased from the Preface:  Mix the finely ground almonds with the hot water and let steep for a while.  Strain through a cloth, also squeezing the cloth to get out all the liquid.  Use the liquid in the recipe; the almond meal is good for other recipes. (I used 4 oz of almonds and then cheesecloth for the straining.)  Note that you are trying to get the oils from the almonds into the water, which is why you squeeze it.

The mix is steeping.

This is what was left after straining and squeezing

Hull and pick over the strawberries.  Put in a bowl and pour wine over them.  Mix gently with your hand or a wood or plastic spoon; then pour off and discard the wine.  (This seemed like a waste of good wine!  But I did it anyway and some wine stuck to the strawberries.  I consoled myself with a cup of wine afterwards.)

Blend or process the berries with the rice flour, sugar, spices, and almond milk.

After the blender time

Bring mixture to a boil over medium heat, stirring constantly; let it boil about 2 minutes to thicken, then remove from heat and stir in first the butter, then the vinegar and currants.

Cooked and noticeably thicker

Pour into a large serving bowl or individual dishes and allow to cool.  Chill before serving.

The Verdict
I will call this a success -- there was nothing I would call a failure at all.  I liked the flavor and how thick it was and that it wasn't too sweet.  The hesitation in my conclusion comes purely from the overall reaction I had to it.  I honestly wanted more strawberry flavor and I think it had too many other flavors mixed in.  That is easy to fix -- I would lighten up on the vinegar and perhaps the spices.  I don't think the butter is important. 

The currants, which normally I enjoy, were a distraction.  Some of that is just me:  I wanted a smooth berry pudding and I got a berry pudding with little bits of chewy currants to work through with each bite.  If (when!) I make this again, I would add chopped strawberries instead of the currants, which would give the bits of chewy but increase the strawberry flavor instead of competing with it.

Overall, I liked it!  It is a different way of eating strawberries and it can be dairy-free as well as gluten-free, if you need that.  It is pretty to look at and has a good flavor.

I made my own almond milk but you can get a premade at the store these days.  I've tried it and thought it was okay enough if you are in a hurry. 

Pease Pie

Actually, the official title of this recipe is

To Make a Close Tart of Green Peas

but I really liked the simpler and alliterative name of Pease Pie.

A bit of history:  What we call a "pea" (plural:  peas) was once called a "pease" with the plural of "peasen".  Somewhere in the transition from Middle English to modern English, the singular became plural and that sounds right to us today.

It is spring and I have been a whirling dervish in my garden.  My thoughts turned to fresh vegetables and herbs and interesting ways to prepare them.  My thoughts also noted that I have one pie crust in the refrigerator that needs to be used.

So I explored my books and found this recipe mixed in with a variety of fruit pies recipes:

Take half a peck of green peas, sheal them, and seethe them, and cast them into a collander, and let the water go from them.  Then put them into a tart whole.  Season them with pepper, saffron, and salt, and a dish of sweet butter.  Close and bake him almost one hour.  Then draw him and put to him a little verjuice, and shake them and let them into the oven again, and so serve it.

A pie made with peas as the primary ingredient?  I'm not sure how I feel about it but, since I like peas, I thought I would give it a try.  A peck is about 8 quarts.

By the way, the book I found it in is The Good Housewife's Jewel by Thomas Dawson.  It was originally published in 1596.  The recipe is on page 76.

ISBN  1-870962-12-5

I needed to make some changes based on my modern ingredients.  I'll admit it:  the green grocer's had fresh peas in the pod in stock but I just flat out did not want to shell them.  Not even the less-than-half-a-peck I expected to fit in my single pie crust.  So I took the easy route and bought a 1 pound bag of frozen peas.  (Do I get extra credit for them being organic?)

I also have discovered, through this blog and from my demonstrations, that I am not fond of saffron.  I'm not sure if that is a blessing or a curse, considering how people rave about the flavor but complain about the cost.  My first decision for a substitute was nutmeg -- it just seemed like it would be good.  That is what you see in the picture.  What I decided on after the picture was taken was to include about a tablespoon of fresh spearmint from my garden.  Peas and mint are a special flavor combination!

Finally, I don't have verjuice, an acidic juice of crab apples or unripened grapes, but the standard substitute is a mild vinegar.  I used red wine vinegar.

I hadn't thought of the mint yet

My peas were tender and flavorful and really didn't need to "seethe" as the recipe called for.  I knew they would cook more in the pie and I didn't want to start with over-cooking them.  So I covered the frozen peas with boiling water and let them stand for five minutes.  That defrosted them and cooked them just a little.

After they were drained, I poured about 2 tablespoons of melted butter over the peas and stirred.  Then I added a little bit of pepper and salt, a little bit of nutmeg, (less than 1/8 tsp of each), and the tablespoon of finely chopped mint and stirred again.

I agreed that this pie needed a cover but with only one crust at hand, I decided to make it more of a turnover.  I used a pie pan to help hold the ingredients and only filled half of the crust.  My impression was that it was too full but I went ahead and used all of the filling.

 Then I folded it over, crimped the edges, and cut a hole in the top for venting.  After I took this picture, I put a dab of butter on top of the hole and put it in a 375 degree F oven for 25 minutes.

The result?  The crust broke open and spilled some of the liquid into the pan.  I didn't want to cook it longer to brown the crust more because I worried about scorching the exposed peas.  I was beginning to think this recipe was a failure!

However I poured in a bit of vinegar (while the pan was tipped so it touched the peas instead of running out of the crust) and let the pie sit for a few minutes.  I think I used about a teaspoon of vinegar.


Thus I so served it.

The Verdict  Wow, I really liked it!  The peas rolled out onto the plate, of course, but it actually made the pie look more appealing to me.  The flavor was amazing  -- peas and mint and the slight bite of vinegar was an excellent combination.  The pepper, salt, and nutmeg were definitely in the background, playing a very subtle role.

I have to be honest:  I felt as I was making the pie that the crust might be a waste of time.  Why not just eat the pea filling "as is"?  I was wrong.  The crust added a neat counter flavor and texture to the peas and their minty-ness.  It made me think of how it is fun to embed peas in mashed potatoes before eating them, but the flavor was shifted to slightly sweet.  Plus the crust was just crunchy enough to make it interesting.  I went back for seconds.  I'll have the rest tomorrow!

If (when!) I make it again, I'll use two crusts so there is less chance of a break. I will also consider adding some sauteed onions to the mix.

I recommend it as a different take on serving peas for dinner.  I would pair it with a roast to add both the veggie and the starch components.  Yum!

An Unusual Gold Rush Pudding

When I first read this recipe in From Fingers to Finger Bowls, A Sprightly History of California Cooking, by Helen Walker Linsenmeyer, I was immediately reminded of the dessert called "White Pot", a fine video of which is found at the YouTube channel of Jas Townsend and Son:  White Pot video.

A Copley Book, published by the Union-Tribune Publishing Co.

It is found in the chapter on the Gold Rush of 1849.  What impressed me is how the creator of this recipe managed to retain the good parts of White Pot while coping with the lack of an oven and probably reduced food supplies -- I can imagine someone making a taste of home while out in the wilds of Northern California.

The recipe is listed on page 75 simply as

Caramel Pudding

4 slices bread (lightly buttered)
2/3 cup brown sugar (firmly packed)
2 eggs, beaten with a fork
2 cups milk
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon vanilla
1/4 cup raisins

Cut bread into small cubes and place in heavy saucepan.  Sprinkle sugar and raisins over the top.  Mix eggs and milk with salt and vanilla and pour over bread mixture.  Do not stir.  Cover and cook very slowly for an hour.

I was using a french bread loaf, which concerned me because I wondered if the four slices were smaller than what the author had intended.  But I went ahead and tried the recipe anyway!  I buttered the bread just on one side.

Everything was going into a small saucepan because it just didn't look like a large quantity.


After cutting the bread into cubes and sprinkling on the brown sugar and raisins, I mixed up the milk, eggs, salt, and vanilla, then poured it over the bread mixture.  Some of the bread cubes and raisins floated to the top.

The instructions said "cook very slowly for an hour" so I set my stove flame to the absolute lowest it offered, put the lid on the pan, and set the pan on the stove.  I decided I would trust in the recipe so I set the timer for one hour and walked away.  (This was hard!)

After about 40 minutes it really smelled good.  When the timer rang, I turned off the flame, took off the lid, and sniffed the pudding.  It was fabulous!

Perhaps I should have let it cool in the pan before turning it out but I couldn't wait.  When it inverted onto the serving plate, it sort of slumped all over.  Also, some of it stuck to the pan and I had to scrape it out.

Not attractive but still tasty

The Verdict:  I ate it while it was hot (not recommended as the raisins burned my mouth) and thought it was delicious.  Success!  I liked the caramel flavor and the creamy of the custard.  It was very delicate in texture.

The next day I tried the pudding straight out of the refrigerator and that, too, was tasty.  It was also firmer and the flavors had blended.  I liked it even more.

I had almost made it without the raisins just because I had to make a special trip to the store to get them.  I'm glad I didn't because I thought the raisins added a lovely texture (they are chewy and the pudding is soft) as well as a nice flavor.

It is a rich dessert so a little goes a long way.  I think you could easily serve this to four to six people and not feel like it was skimpy.

I think I probably could have put in another two slices of bread to thicken it and I would have buttered the bottom of the pan, too.  If you wanted to play with the recipe, you could add some spices, use whole wheat bread, change out the dried fruit, or reduce the sugar amount a little.

I heartily recommend this bread pudding-like dessert, especially because of the ease in cooking.  It would be good on a camping trip if I was cooking over coals.

Spongy Bread

I have this little book that I have guarded and treasured for a few decades now.  It is The Basic Book of Baking Bread by Geraldine Duncann.

ISBN 0-932824-06-4

It was published in 1979 by Celebration Press and I suspect it had a very limited printing run.  It is all of 10 pages and about 5 by 4 inches in size.  But Ms. Duncann has a kind and gentle writing style and some fun recipes.

As an introduction to the book she writes, "This is a collection of recipes that I have gathered in my travels about the British Isles."  What makes her recipes interesting for an historical cooking blog is that they all use the sponge method. Making a sponge for your bread was probably originally designed to ensure that the yeast you are using is actually working, something we don't have to think about these days with modern food science backing us up.

A sponge is basically a liquid-y mix of flour, water, salt, sweetener, fat, and yeast that you set aside for a few hours until it is bubbly and thick.  Then you add more flour and knead until you have a dough that is shaped into loaves.  It takes more time than today's quick process but can develop more flavor.


I decided to try the one entitled "Essex Harvest Bread".  Her introduction for this recipe is amusing:

           One day last fall when I was crawling about amongst the nettles, chicken dung,
     muck, and cow pats of an exceptionally decrepit East Anglia barnyard
     photographing  the worm-eaten foundations, joists, joinings, dragon beams,
     rabbets (the wooden kind), and dadoes of a particularly fascinating (in a gnat's
     posterior  -- you seen the worm-eaten underpinnings of one barn, you seen them
     all) 15th century barley barn (why a barley barn should be of any significant
     difference from an oat, lentil, wheat, hop, millet, bean, bracken or cannabis barn
     I shall never know), but anyway, one day whilst I was doing all this for a particular
     study, and feeling rather sorry for myself, and being in mud up to my unmentionable,
     I got myself up and I drove to the nearest pub.  ...  I ordered a plowman's lunch,
     and to my delight instead of the usual good but quite standard slice of bakery
     white bread, there was a chunk of this fine and hefty concoction.

          I asked the publican about it and he said that a lady in the village baked it once
     a week and had for over 50 years.


With a description like this, how could I not give it a try?

Essex Harvest Bread

Make a sponge of 1 cup whole wheat flour, 1 cup of cooked cracked wheat, 1 cup rolled oats, 1 cup of rye flour.  Add 4 cups of water, 2 cups of honey, salt and yeast and oil enough.  To this add 2 cups of grated carrots or 1 cup of carrots and 1 cup of chopped apple.  Stir well and leave to rise.

Add enough whole wheat four to make a soft dough and knead well.  Form into large oblong loaves and place on a baking sheet.  Paint the tops with beaten egg and sprinkle with rolled oats.  Slash the tops with a sharp knife and leave to rise.

Bake in a moderate oven till done.

My Notes

I didn't have any cooked cracked wheat, but I did have some uncooked wheat berries, so I put them in a pot, added about four times their volume in water, brought them to a boil, and simmered them for 20 minutes.  Then I drained them and added them to the flour mixture.  This made them tender and just a little bit chewy, which I liked.

At the beginning of her book she mentions the ratios of salt, yeast, and oil to use in a sponge.  Following that, I added 1/2 cup oil, 2 tsp salt, and 1 tsp yeast.  I chose to use 1 cup of chopped carrots and 1 cup of chopped (unpeeled) apple.

Filled about half of the bowl

 It was a cool afternoon so I put the sponge into a slightly warm oven to proof.  After about 2.5 hours, it had increased in volume by half and was visibly bubbling.  

Actively bubbling and much thicker than before

I put it into my mixer bowl and started adding whole wheat flour.  After 8 cups (added 1/2 cup at a time; each addition was mixed in thoroughly before the next), the dough was showing signs of getting stiff enough to form a loaf.  It was also too much dough for my mixer -- the gooey stuff kept trying to climb out of the bowl and over the dough hook.

So I piled it all up on the flour-dusted counter and kneaded in another cup of flour (that's 9 cups total).  The dough was stretchy and holding its shape well and so I deemed it ready for the loaf pans.  Yes, I put them in pans instead of free-standing loaves so I could get sandwich-sized slices.

All the dough in one big ball

 After painting, sprinkling, and slashing the tops, I set the loaves aside for their second rising.  It took about 1 hour, 15 minutes for them to get close to double in size because of the cool temperature in my kitchen.

Brushed, sprinkled, and slashed

I baked them for 20 minutes at 425 degrees F, which was too hot and caused the bottoms to scorch a little (grrrrrr!).  I should have listened to Ms. Duncann who suggested using a 350 degree oven. 

Oh, the smell of freshly baked bread!

The Verdict  Success!  Oh my, this bread is tasty.  It is pretty light for a whole wheat bread and the flavor is rich with the wheat berries, honey, carrots, and apple.  I think it would be an insult to the bread to spread it with butter.  Just a light toasting to bring out the honey flavor (and make the wheat berries taste a little like popcorn!) and that is enough.  I started eating one loaf; the others will be frozen for future munching.

Definitely worth a repeat.  One aspect I liked about this bread is that it really used up a lot of my flour varieties.  I was getting worried that they were getting old, despite being frozen, and I was happy to see them go into bread instead of into the trash.

Roasted Onion Salad

This is a simple and yet tasty recipe that makes a good side dish.  I don't think it really works for what we call a "salad" today but it sure is good, especially if you pair it up with a roasted meat dish or a grilled steak.

I found this dish in the book The Medieval Kitchen by Redon, Sabban, and Serventi.  (Here's a link to it on Amazon.com; I don't own a copy:  http://www.amazon.com/The-Medieval-Kitchen-Recipes-France/dp/0226706842)

The recipe:

Take onions; cook them in embers, then peel them and cut them across into longish, thin slices; add a little vinegar, salt, oil, and spices, and serve.

This is my favorite way to prepare it.

It is well-suited for an historical cooking demonstration because you simply take the onions (sweet are best but any will do) and roast them in the fire.  I have never just put them in the embers because I find it more visually interesting to put them on skewers where people can see them.  Every once in a while I turn the skewer so the onion roasts evenly all the way through.  The onion is done when it is very soft and is trying to slide downhill on the skewer.

Making it at home is just as simple:  I put the onions in a pan (this catches the drips) and put them into the oven at about 350 degrees F for an hour or two.  In other words, I slow cook them until they are very soft and squishy.

This makes the onions tender and sweet, without that classic onion bite at all.

All done

In either case, when they are cool enough to handle, I peel and slice them. 


I prefer to use just a decent balsamic vinegar and a little grating of nutmeg.  It is also fine to put in some black pepper and a little salt.  I only use oil (olive oil) if I feel the flavor of the onions is a little flat -- mostly I like the clear mild onion flavor without the olive-y boost.  Whatever vinegar you use, make sure it is mellow enough to enjoy "as is".  You don't want a harsh tang when you eat these.

You can consider the advice on the bowl, too!

Nowhere do I give measurements for the vinegar and nutmeg.  I recommend that you splash on a little vinegar, scrape or shake on a little nutmeg, toss the whole and taste it.  Keep doing this until you get that delightful balance of flavors that tickles your tongue.  Different onion varieties and different vinegars will give different results, so you might as well practice analyzing what your taste buds are telling you.

The Verdict:  Success, of course!  I've used this dish many times over the last several years.  The only mistakes I've made were not cooking the onions until very soft, thus leaving behind some of the harsher onion flavor (it is better to cook them "too much" rather than "too little"), and putting on too much balsamic vinegar, so that all you can really taste is the vinegar.  You can drain off the excess and try to mellow it out by adding other spices and the olive oil.  Perhaps you can rinse off some of the vinegar, too, although I've never tried it.

The recipe direction for "longish, thin slices" is a good one.  Large or wide slices put too much onion in your mouth all at once, which I find feels like I am drowning in onion.  The smaller slices are easy to eat with a fork or even medieval-style, using your fingers.

Dueling Cantaloupes, The Return Fire

The first recipe for Cantaloupe Pie from Dining in the Diner did not work out the way I think it was intended.  Now is the chance for the second recipe, this one from The Historical Cookbook of the American Negro, to have its shot.

On page 90 and dedicated to Mary Church Terrell, one of the first African-American women to earn a bachelor's degree in the United States (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mary_Church_Terrell), is the recipe.

Cantaloupe Pie

1 large canteloupe [sic]
1 cup sugar
2 tablespoons cornstarch
2 eggs
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 large pastry shell

I didn't put the pastry shell in the picture

Cut canteloupe [sic] in halves, remove seeds, cut up pulp and put into a double boiler with sugar.  Mix cornstarch with a little cold water and add to canteloupe.  After mixture thickens add beaten egg yolks and salt and cook a little longer.  Cool  Pour into baked pastry shell.  Spread with meringue made from egg whites and 1/4 cup sugar, flavored with lemon.  Brown meringue in oven at 325 degrees.  Cool before serving.

My Process
Instead of cutting up the pulp, I put the peeled, chunked cantaloupe through the shredder of my food processor.  After all, it worked so well for yesterday's recipe!  It takes very little time and I appreciated that.


When I added the sugar, I stirred until it was all dissolved before I added the cornstarch solution.  Also, I had the double boiler already simmering before I put in the cantaloupe.

It took a long time to cook the mixture in the double boiler.  About an hour, with me occasionally giving it a stir and checking on the temperature.  It was the longest thickening-with-cornstarch experience I have had!  The nice part is I didn't have to worry about overcooking the cornstarch and losing the thickening feature.

It was a little hard to tell when the mixture was thick enough to add the egg yolks and salt.  When I looked at the pictures it was obvious -- before it was thick it looked juicy and afterwards it looked creamy.  The cornstarch, when first added, made the mix look cloudy but that only went away a little bit once it was cooked since the cantaloupe juice is somewhat cloudy on its own.

Getting hot but still liquidy

It looks thicker

But I guessed when it was thick enough and then cooked the mixture about five minutes longer once I added the yolks.  Then I put the whole thing out on the counter to cool before I put it into the refrigerator.

There was more filling than would fit the crust so I tasted the leftovers.  Oh my!  What I got was a fresh cantaloupe flavor, lightly sweet, and very appealing.  The previous recipe was sweeter and a little more cloying and, although I originally liked the nutmeg flavor in it, in a re-taste, the nutmeg was more of a shocking flavor than nice.  I definitely liked this version's flavor better.

After an hour or so in the 'fridge the mixture was cool enough and thick enough I was willing to put it into the crust.  Then the entire pie went into the 'fridge with hopes it would get solid enough to be viable.  I figured I would put the meringue on later.

It took several hours but it looked thick enough to warrant putting on the meringue.

Then I browned the meringue first in the 325 degree oven (for ten minutes) as suggested, which dried it nicely but did not do more than brown the tips.  So I switched it to under the broiler and was pleased with the results.

It went back into the 'fridge to chill out before the grand taste-test.

The Verdict
I would call it a "success"!  Although the filling was not as thick as I'd like it to be, it was still thick enough to cut and maintain its shape.  It took another day before I felt like the juicy part was starting to soak through the crust, although that was not a bad thing.

I liked the flavor -- still fresh and not too sweet -- much better than the first recipe.  There was more filling than would fit in the crust, so I got to eat that separately (another treat!).  My guess is that our modern cantaloupes are bigger on average than what was available in the 1940s to 1950s and that is why I had so much trouble getting the filling to thicken correctly.  If I made this again, I would add more cornstarch.  I would would also consider using a puree of cantaloupe to see if I liked the smoother texture better.

Either way, the flavor was lovely, especially if you like cantaloupe, and I do.

I would recommend this recipe over the first unless you really love the flavor of nutmeg.

Dueling Cantaloupes, The First Shot

I recently reread one cookbook (see the Feb 2013 post, "Lemon Smothered Chops") and acquired a new old cookbook.  Both had their versions of a recipe that caught my eye, cantaloupe pie.  Doesn't that just sound weird/intriguing/curious?  I decided the only thing to do would be to make them both and compare their processes and results.

I started with the recipe out of this book, a new one to my railroad cookbook collection, Dinner in the Diner by Will C. Hollister.  It was published in the early 1980s and discusses many rail lines including the Texas and Pacific Railroad which was first organized in the 1870s.  The text on page 127 says, "Among the delicious dishes favored on Texas and Pacific dining cars has been cantaloupe pie, the recipe for which is given here." (Page 128)

ISBN 0-87046-011-0

 Cantaloupe Pie a la Texas and Pacific

1 well ripened cantaloupe
2 tablespoons flour
1/8 teaspoon nutmeg
1 1/2 cups sugar
3 tablespoons butter
1 cup cold water

The eggs are for the meringue

Strain juice from seeds of the cantaloupe and put meat of cantaloupe through a ricer.  Preserve both the meat and juice.  Pour this mixture into a sauce pan and add the cup of cold water.  Place on stove and boil for five minutes.  Mix flour and sugar together and slowly add to the hot mixture, stirring constantly.  Add the butter and nutmeg.  When the mixture is cool, pour into ready-baked pie shell and cover with meringue.  Brown in oven.

For Meringue:  Whiles of three eggs (well beaten) with one teaspoon sugar.

My process
I don't have a ricer so I put the peeled and chunked cantaloupe through the grater of my food processor.  I think it achieved the same goal.

There wasn't much juice with the seeds until much later, after I had already started cooking the mix. 

The recipe wasn't clear about how to handle the heat after the cantaloupe had boiled for five minutes, so I turned it down to low for the rest of the steps.

I'm not sure how slowly I should have added the flour/sugar mix but I did make sure each part was well-mixed before I added another.

After getting the whole mix cooked and blended, I let it sit on the stove top to cool.  It never got any thicker than soup.  This would not do for a pie filling.  One cut and it would all leak out over the pan, if it hadn't already soaked through the crust!

Soupy.  Not good.

I thought perhaps I needed to cook the filling longer, to give the flour a chance to thicken it.  So I brought it to a boil for three minutes and then let it cool again.  I even put some of it in a little dish into the refrigerator to see how it would thicken.  Again, it didn't get thick, not even the chilled portion.

At this point I would call the recipe a failure!

Not wanting to just toss the whole thing out -- after all the flavor was lightly sweet and cantaloupe-y with just enough texture from the shreds -- I mixed in one tablespoon of cornstarch mixed with 1/8 cup of water, and brought it to a boil again, this time for two minutes.

The mix was definitely thicker.  But even after having it sit in the refrigerator overnight, it did not get thick enough to put into the pie crust.  Perhaps I should have used two tablespoons of cornstarch.

I think it would a wonderful topping over vanilla ice cream so it won't go to waste.  Tomorrow I will try the other recipe!

Lemon Smothered Chops

One day I had a gift certificate for books and spent it on whims.  Sometimes I just pick a likely-looking cookbook based on its cover or a brief description and buy it, just because it intrigues me.  That is how I got this book,

ISBN 0-8070-0964-4

The Historical Cookbook of the American Negro, 
"The classic yearlong celebration of black heritage from
Emancipation Proclamation Breakfast Cake to Wandering Pilgrim's Stew".

It was published by the National Council of Negro Women, Inc. in 1958 and this is a reprint from 2000.  The idea for the book originated with its editor, Sue Bailey Thurman, who "proposed developing the cookbook as a means of stimulating awareness and appreciation our [the American Negro] history. ... Knowing the positive potential happenings around food, Mrs. Thurman designed the cookbook around the birthdays of persons and events in the calendar year, rather than the traditional groupings of recipes.  She called it a 'palatable' approach to history."  (page vii, in the foreword to the reprint edition).  Here is a short biography of Mrs. Thurman:  http://www.bu.edu/thurman/dr-thurman/sue-bailey-thurman/

The recipe (page 47) that attracted my attention was designed for Mother's Day,  May 1946, in honor of Mrs. Emma C. Clement who was chosen as "Mother of the Year".  http://kchr.ky.gov/about/gallergreatblack.htm?&pageOrder=4&selectedPic=2 


Lemon Smothered Chops

2 pounds lamb chops, cut thick -- put in large covered skillet or chicken fryer. 
 
Cover top of meat closely with --

2 unpeeled lemons, sliced
1 large sweet onion, cut in rings
1 green pepper, cut in rings
1 teaspoon salt

Pour over all:
2 cups tomato juice.

Dot with flakes of fat cut from meat or butter.  Cover and cook on top of stove 1-1/2 hours or until done.  Lift onto a hot platter, being careful to keep lemon, onion and pepper slices in place.  The meat cooked like this way acquires a chicken texture and color, while the lemon, onion, pepper and tomato make a delicious sauce accompaniment.



I couldn't get two pounds of lamb chops so I settled for 1.5 pounds.  They were thickly cut.

I will admit now that I am not a fan of green peppers.  I stayed true to the recipe by using them but the rings were intentionally kept small to minimize their influence.

Putting the lemon, onion, and pepper rings over the top of the chops (each chop got its own set) made a very pretty sight.  I picked out the lemon seeds!  Then I sprinkled the salt on top.

I used the full 2 cups of tomato juice, making sure each chop got doused and the extra going around the chops, and then dotted each chop stack with a few flakes of butter.

The recipe just says to cook them for 1-1/2 hours, so I set the heat under the pan to medium until the tomato juice started to bubble and then I turned the heat down to low.  I checked in on the chops a few times and everything looked like it was cooking nicely and slowly as intended.

When the timer rang, I decided it was done and dished two chops out onto my plate.

As is, without any sauce or side dishes

The Verdict:  I will call it a success because nothing went wrong.  However, it is not going to be a dish I repeat.  The lamb chops were small and so the rings of lemon, onion, and pepper covered them.  This is not a problem visually but I think the flavors were out of proportion.  Boy, am I glad I used little pepper rings.

The meat was tender and flavorful.  I tried it alone and I tried it with the toppings.  What I found was that eating the lemon rind was too strong and I couldn't taste anything else.  Maybe it should have been a thinner slice!  So what I liked was a piece of meat with a bit of pepper and onion with it and before I put it in my mouth I rubbed it into the lemon slice.  That was good, even with the pepper, whose flavor was definitely muted from the long cooking.

I visualize this as being served with a big bowl of fluffy white rice and the tomato sauce from the pan served alongside to moisten everything.  If you happen to like the cooked green pepper - tomato flavor combination, then you might like this dish.  I found it okay but not exciting.

This idea of covering the meat with the flavors and simmering in the tomato sauce is a good one for pork chops, I think.  But I will leave out the green peppers.

Hash with Dropped Eggs

Today I was in a "Rufus Estes" mood, after looking back on my first blog post in January 2012.  I wanted to do something like a main course and it needed to be something I wouldn't normally do.

ISBN 0-486-43764-7

I chose "Hash with Dropped Eggs" on page 18.  The mental image I got of the eggs on top of the whole thing tickled my fancy, so here it is.

Mince or grind cold cooked meat and add two-thirds as much cold chopped vegetables.  The best proportions of vegetables are half potato and one-quarter each of beets and carrots.  Put a little gravy stock or hot water with butter melted in it, into a saucepan, turn in the meat and vegetables and heat, stirring all the time.  Season with salt, pepper, and a little onion juice if liked.  Turn into a buttered baking dish, smooth over, and set in the oven to brown.  Take up and press little depressions in the top, and drop an egg into each.  Set back into the oven until the egg is set, but not cooked hard.  Serve in the same dish.

I used smoked pork shoulder and minced it.  I didn't have a lot of it, so I added more vegetables than he suggested in order to make a significant layer in the dish.  He doesn't say it, but the vegetables also have to be cooked.  I used potatoes, beets, and carrots as mentioned and to get the onion juice, I grated an onion on my microplane grater until I had about 2 teaspoons of onion mush.

Much of the meat is under the veggies.

It was hard to guess how much water with melted butter to use, so I guessed about 1 cup.  That was too much, I think, because the mix was liquidy when I put it into the dish.  As I expected, the beets turned everything pink!  It is not bad and kind of cute, actually.

I put it into a hot oven, 400 degrees F, in order to brown it.  It smelled good!

After 20 minutes I checked it -- it was bubbly and just starting to brown, so I left it in for another 7 minutes.  That was just right.

To make the depressions, I pressed with the bottom a small bowl.  I couldn't press deeply as the hash wouldn't let me but I got enough that the eggs sat where I put them.  I noticed the whites started to cook a little as soon as they hit the hot surface.

I had no idea how long it takes eggs to set in the oven, but after 7 minutes the white was set and the yolk looked like a "sunny-side up" egg.  That is the way I like them (I love hot, runny yolks!) so I pulled it out of the oven.  If you like them firmer, you could probably leave them in for 10 minutes but be aware the eggs continue to cook after the dish is out of the oven.

Visually very appealing

The Verdict:
Success!  I really liked the flavor of this.  It was hearty, stick-to-your-ribs, with an old-fashioned touch that is a blend of the veggies and the meat and the pepper/onion/salt.  The egg adds a nice touch, especially when the yolk broke and ran all over the hash.  I like beets but some people don't, so use veggies you like cooked.  I think chopped, cooked onions or even mushrooms would be good.

The dropped eggs looked exactly as I envisioned and I was pleased.  The beets cooked to a dark red, not pink, and it almost looked like the mixture had ketchup in it.

I do think I should have used about 1/2 cup of water with butter (or gravy, if you make that choice) but I wouldn't use much less or the hash would risk being dry.

When I went back for seconds (!), the hash was thicker (I guess it had soaked up some of the liquid) and the egg more firmly cooked.  Still very tasty!

This recipe is obviously designed to use up leftovers -- hash dishes usually are.  I didn't have the meat and veggies already cooked, so I popped them all into the oven and baked them, getting this done a few hours before I started the recipe so everything had a chance to cook and then cool.  The meat in one dish, covered, and the veggies in a tray.  That worked well and smelled heavenly. I ended up using one potato and one beet and all the carrots you see in the picture.  Next time I think I will use more meat.  He doesn't specify what kind, so I think this would be good with just about any kind.

I would say this serves 4 with other food (like sourdough bread and a tossed green salad) or 2 as is.  I considered each serving as having one egg on it.  I used a wide spoon to scoop it out so as not to break the egg.

Boston Baked Beans -- the Classic Way!

The weather today is gray, cold, and wet.  In my opinion, the perfect time for a fire in the fireplace.  And, while I'm at it, why not cook something historical, too?

My taste buds said, "Baked Beans", the kind that you are supposed to cook slowly for hours and hours.  I checked several books and found a recipe, "Boston Baked Beans", in Pioneer Recipes and Remedies by Millie Foster Cheesman (page 168).

ISBN 0-9658406-0-3

A quick internet search told me:  "Back in colonial days, a favorite Boston food was beans baked in molasses for several hours. Back then, Boston was sort of awash in molasses - it was part of the 'triangular trade' in which slaves in the Caribbean grew sugar cane to be shipped to Boston to be made into rum to be sent to West Africa to buy more slaves to send to the West Indies. Even after the end of this practice, Boston continued as big rum producing city."  (About.com: Boston)

6 cups pea or navy beans
1 pound salt pork (I used bacon)
1 Tbsp dry mustard
1 Tbsp salt
1 tsp black pepper
1 cup molasses
1 small onion (optional)

Pick over beans (you are taking out pebbles and ugly, shriveled beans), cover with cold water, and soak overnight.  In the morning, drain, cover with fresh water, bring to a boil very slowly, then simmer until the skins burst...

My note:  6 cups is a lot of beans.  This filled my 6 quart soup kettle!  You might want to start with a half recipe.   I did the soaking and simmering on the stove, saving the long term cooking for the fireplace.  Also, I skimmed off and threw away the white foam from the surface of the simmering beans.

Just starting to simmer. 

Drain beans.  Scald the salt pork, which should be well streaked with lean, by letting it stand in boiling water for five to 10 minutes.

Note:  I used bacon, since salt pork was out of stock at my butcher's.  So I didn't scald it.

Cut off two thin slices, one to place in bottom of pot, the other to cut into bits.  Score rind of the remaining piece with sharp knife.  Mix dry mustard, salt, black pepper and molasses.

Note:  I put two slices of bacon in the bottom of my large Dutch oven and cut up one slice to bits.

Alternate the layers of beans in the pot with the molasses mixture and the bits of pork.  If you use an onion, bury it in the middle.

This is about half of the beans, with some sauce, bacon bits, and onion.

When the bean pot is full, push the large piece of pork down into the beans with the rind sticking up.  Add boiling water to cover, put the lid on, and bake all day (a minimum of six to eight hours) in a 250 degree F oven.  Check from time to time and add boiling water if needed.  Uncover the pot during last hour of baking so the rind can brown and crisp.

Notes:  Once I got the Dutch oven to the fireplace and put in the boiling water (in that order!), I surrounded it with small coals and put some on the lid, too.  It is supposed to cook slowly, so I didn't put many coals underneath, just mostly ringed it.  It certainly was hot enough.  It was bubbling and steaming.  I kept moving coals away until it was at a very slow simmer.

The coals to the side are a "stockpile" to keep the heat going for hours.

I set a timer to check it every thirty minutes or so.  After a few hours, I added some more hot water, just to make sure it was covered.  This only needed to be done once.

The coals were nearly out after about 8 hours so I took the pan off the fire.  I had to stir the beans to see them and their taste was "watery".  So I put the pan over the stove with the lid off to thicken them a bit; it took about 30 minutes.

I love the color!

The Verdict:
The taste was good!  It was very close to what I recalled having once a long time ago; the only thing I thought was that I wanted it to be a little richer.  It could be that my sweet tooth was talking, but it tasted better with another 1/2 cup of molasses stirred in.  And I thought the flavor was even better the second day.  The bacon had cooked to little pieces and were fun to find in a mouthful.  Definitely a success.

I think this would be good with a plate of hot cornbread or a slice of ham and a green salad.

You don't have to have a fireplace to cook Boston Baked Beans.  As the recipe says, you can put it into a ceramic bean pot or any oven-safe deep casserole with a lid and bake it in your oven.  I was just interested in trying it in my fireplace!