Hoopskirts

Lemon Biscuits (Cookies) Lemon Biscuits (cookies) both rounded and flattened Today's recipe for a light little cookie comes to us from Mrs. Beeton 's Book of Household Management of 1861 (London). The Original  Recipe LEMON BISCUITS 1743.    INGREDIENTS – 1–1/4 lb. of flour, 3/4 lb. of loaf sugar, 6 oz. of fresh butter, 4 eggs, 1 oz. of lemon-peel, 2 dessertspoonfuls of lemon-juice. Mode .—Rub the flour into the butter; stir in the pounded sugar and very finely-minced lemon-peel, and when these ingredients are thoroughly mixed, add the eggs, which should be previously well whisked, and the lemon-juice. Beat the mixture well for a minute or two, then drop it from a spoon on to a buttered tin, about 2 inches apart, as the cakes will spread when they get warm; place the tin in the oven, and bake the cakes of a pale brown from 15 to 20 minutes. Time —15 to 20 minutes.  Average cost , 1s. 6d. Seasonable  at any time. The Method This is a

It's nearly the end of August (already!) and that means it's corn season.  I am very fond of corn...very, so when I saw this recipe from The Ladies' Indispensable Assistant of 1852 (New York), I knew I wanted to try it. I had no idea what to expect of these,and they turned out to be an amazing surprise!  They were absolutely delicious.  As I was cooking them, I realized that these green corn cakes remind me very much of potato pancakes, both in the way the looked and in their finished consistency (of course these tasted of corn, not potato). The Original Recipe To start, we need to understand that "green" corn is simply fresh, ripe corn as opposed to dried corn.  Green corn should not be interpreted to mean underripe, inedible corn. Obviously, the number of ears of corn required will depend upon the size of the corn available to you.  I used approximately 5 years of good, large fresh corn. A period teacup translates to about 6 oz in mode

Stewed tomatoes for breakfast - a very British thing.  Also a very breakfast thing in nineteenth-century America.  Eggs and Tomatoes comes from Mrs. Bliss's 1850 volume, The Practical Cookbook  (Philadelphia).  It's not a seasonal thing for me right now, since, being April, it's not tomato season. The Recipe To facilitate peeling the tomatoes, I put them into boiling water to blanch them.  Once the skins split, I removed them with a slotted spoon, removed the skins, halved them, removed the seeds, and then rough chopped the remainder Blanched tomatoes I melted two tablespoons of butter in a frying pan, added the chopped tomatoes, and let them cook.  I added salt and pepper to taste. Since the tomatoes were already warmed from the blanching, this didn't take very long.  I beat six eggs with a fork as if I was making scrambled eggs. Pour the eggs into the stewed tomatoes and begin stirring.   I presumed th

A good breakfast egg is a delightful thing!  And, evidently a controversial one as well.  Inspired by the dust-up over Alice Water's wrought iron egg spoon (for a mere $250), I decided to take a look at some period egg recipes. Today we look at the coddled egg.  I love eggs prepared in all ways, but coddling is not in my normal repertoire, somehow seeming fussier to prepare, although it really isn't.  To coddle is to pamper, to protect to the point of overprotecting.  A coddled egg is cooked out of the shell, gently and slowly, in water rather than over direct heat in a frying pan.   I've made coddled eggs in my modern life but was curious how a period recipe might vary. A Period Version The Praire Farmer, July 1852, p 331 I found this recipe copied verbatim in many cookbooks. The difference that stood out when I compared it to modern techniques, was that pouring boiling water on the eggs was the preferred method.  Every modern recipe I have read has the cook br

Last fall I decided to make some kitchen pepper.   What is that, I hear you say?  Kitchen pepper is a basic seasoning mix that seems to have been fairly popular in the nineteenth century, based on its inclusion in historic cookbooks.  I encountered the concept of Kitchen Pepper a number of years ago when I read my first reproduction cookbook, The Kentucky Housewife (1839).  Unlike its designation as a "pepper," the actual product is a mix. I tucked it away in the back of my mind, where it stayed as I started learning how to cook historic recipes.  In the meantime, I made walnut catsup, lemon catsup, and mushroom catsup.  The idea of other seasonings intrigued me.  Plus, I wanted an interesting demonstration for a reenactment.  So, one lovely October weekend, I, with the help of friends, made kitchen pepper. The Kentucky Housewife Making the Kitchen Pepper I started with whole, dried ingredients, including blades of mace, which I found at an Indian grocery. I ch

Part of dealing with a family death is making decisions about possessions - what to keep, what to sell, what to discard.    Depending upon your attitude towards possessions and your sentimentality, the decisions can be very difficult. After visiting our parents' graves this Christmas, my brother and I made a quick stop at our family home.  There is much to go through, much to sort, much to decide.  I realized one very easy decision would be about my mom's knitting needles.  I have very little sentimentality about them, although I did learn to knit on them.  Knitting needles are tools; I knit, so taking her supply seemed logical. I was actually looking for Mom's knitting needle roll, but I didn't find it this trip.  To simplify matters, I stuffed all the odds and ends into a shopping bag and brought them back home with me.  I frequently see old knitting needles in thrift store, having been bundled off along with the rest of the unwanted items.  No judgment is

It was time to make a new dress, something I seldom do.  My reenacting wardrobe is more driven by necessity than stylish desire.  My mother had passed away in March and I decided to wear second-stage mourning in her honor.  Full mourning, involving all black clothing and a black bonnet with a long black mourning veil would take more time than I had to pull together, having only a month between my mother's death and a national event at Shiloh.    We had obligations to attend the event, so remaining home wasn't an option.     Since reenacting involves a healthy dose of make-believe, there is no way for others, be they reenactors or spectators, to know one is not simply showing a mourning impression (pretending to be in mourning), and women in full mourning are often met with insensitive or callous comments.  For those reasons I decided to wear a lighter stage of mourning, one that involves black and white, gray, and lavender.   I dug into my stash of fabric for this micro ch