For those who are more vegetable inclined, today we are going to learn a simple breakfast dish from 1864. The use of vegetables in the nineteenth century prior to standard refrigeration was always seasonal and based upon local crops. If asparagus was not in season, another vegetable could be employed, like a tomato, a squash, green beans, peas, or anything else. People cooking in the nineteenth century had to be experimental and willing to try different food combinations based on their limited resources. Wealthier people had more options because they could afford to bring in more foods from different regions of the country. Without standard refrigeration, however, spoiling was always an issue. It was like playing beat the clock with consuming the food before it was spoiled and wasted.

Here is the recipe from "On Cooking Vegetables" in American Recipes from 1864.


Take cold asparagus, and cut it the size of peas; break four or five eggs into a dish, and beat them with pepper, salt, and the asparagus. Then put it into a stew-pan with a spoonful of butter, set it on the fire, and stir it all the time till it thickens. Put it upon toasted bread in a hot dish.

Today we are going to learn a method of making gravy from 1833. Gravy was a vital part of any nineteenth century meal in which one would find meat on the plate. They did not have the luxury of running out to the store to buy pre-mixed packets of gravy. Each aspect of any meal was prepared from scratch utilizing the ingredients the cook already had in their kitchen.

I found this recipe online but it originally came from The American Frugal Housewife by Mrs. Lydia Child, published in 1833. Here are the additional notes I found online.

"Scorched flour" does not sound like a very attractive item, but under its more common name of browned flour is well regarded even today for gravy-making. It is made by simply putting common flour--either white or whole wheat--into a dry frying pan and cooking it over low to medium heat, stirring continually, until it looks cooked. (White flour will become brown, and since whole wheat is browner to begin with it will simply become more so.) More important than the greater darkness of the resulting gravy is the fact that the scorching process cooks the flour in advance of its actual addition to the sauce. Many failures in gravy-making can be traced to the flour or other thickening agent being insufficiently cooked in the pan, resulting in a pasty consistency and unpleasant taste.


1 roast (beef, ham or poultry)
1/2 pint flour
1/2 pint water
Salt as desired

Most people put a half a pint of flour and water into their tin-kitchen, when they set meat down to roast. This does very well; but gravy is better flavored, and looks darker, to shake flour and salt upon the meat; let it brown thoroughly, put flour and salt on again, and then baste the meat with about half a pint of hot water (or more, according to the [amount of] gravy you want.) When the meat is about done, pour these drippings into a skillet, and let it boil. If it is not thick enough, shake in a little flour; but be sure to let it boil, and be well stirred, after the flour is in. If you fear it will be too greasy, take off a cupful of the fat before you boil. The fat of beef, pork, turkeys and geese is as good for shortening as lard. Salt gravy to your taste. If you are very particular about dark gravies, keep your dredging-box full of scorched flour for that purpose.

Today we are going to learn about boiling fowls with oysters. Oysters were very popular in the nineteenth century, especially in coastal regions. Fowl, however, was not as cheap as it is today. Unless the man went out and hunted a bird for supper, beef was actually more common on the nineteenth century dinner table if the family could afford to buy any meat at all.

I found this recipe online, although it originally came from Godey's Lady's Book magazine in the January 1861 issue. It was a reader-contributed recipe.

From the online article:

This is perhaps the only recipe of either past or present time which we have seen call for cooking a bird in a double boiler. The technique was used on smaller cuts of beef or poultry to produce the substance known as "meat tea," often used as a therapeutic agent in cases of illness or injury. It is difficult to see how a bird, even a "young' and presumably small one, can be cooked through with this procedure in the amount of time given. It would seem just as quick and a great deal safer to simply roast the creature, stuffed as indicated and with sauce made as directed with the pan juices.



1 young fowl
Oysters (enough to fill the cavity of the fowl)
White Sauce (if desired)


Take a young fowl, fill the inside with oysters, put it into a jar, and plunge the jar in a kettle or saucepan of water. Boil it for one hour and a half. There will be a quantity of gravy from the juices of the fowl and oysters in the jar; make it into a white sauce, with the addition of egg, cream, or a little flour and butter; add oysters to it, or serve up plain with the fowl...the dish loses nothing of its delicacy and simplicity.

Today in Lillian's Kitchen, we are going to learn how to make catsup (ketchup), nineteenth century style. I found this recipe online. Here is the text:

This is one of the earliest recipes we have found which simply used the term "catsup" for a tomato-based sauce. This was not used in the dump-it-over-the-burger-and-fries style of condiment practiced today, but rather was intended primarily as a flavoring agent to be added in one or two tablespoonful quantities to other recipes, especially soups. The amount being made here would probably last a small household for a year.

Many authors recommend putting catsups into small bottles, so that each can remain sealed until it is opened for use, rather than always refilling the little bottle from a large jug. That process allows the contents to be exposed to air, creating a potential for spoilage.

This recipe comes from The Young Housekeeper's Friend by Mrs. Cornelius, published out of Boston in 1863.


Tomatoes
Salt
2 onions
1/2 spoonful ginger
2 spoonfuls powdered clove
2 spoonfuls allspice
1 tsp. black pepper

Slice the tomatoes and sprinkle them with salt. If you intend to let them stand until you have gathered several parcels, put in plenty of salt. After you have gathered all you intend to use, boil them gently an hour, strain them through a coarse sieve; slice two good-sized onions very thin for every gallon; add half a spoonful of ginger, two spoonfuls of powdered clove, two of allspice, and a teaspoonful of black pepper. Boil it twenty minutes after the spices are added. Keep it in a covered jar. This kind of catsup is specially designed to be used in soups, and stewed meats.

Today in Lillian's Kitchen (click here to read about the real woman named Lillian), we are going to learn to make Apple Jonathan.

Very often in nineteenth century cookbooks, there were no measurements like there are in modern cookbooks because there was no sense of standard protocol. Cooking techniques were passed down from mother to daughters and so forth, and were done with individual methods. Cups were typically measured by actual teacups, which were all different sizes. It was not the exact science as it is today, but at the same time, domestic living was so much more practiced and women had the ability to easily eyeball their ingredients. It was certainly not uncommon for a woman to be able to look at vaguely written instructions in a cookbook and use methods she learned from her own foremothers to create something ideally similar, if not just like the intended result in the recipe.

This particular recipe came from The Complete Home published in 1879. A few notes regarding this recipe. A pudding dish was like what a pie dish is today. Puddings in the nineteenth century were not the little cups of chocolate goo sold in grocery stores today. They were everything from what we consider pot pies with meats, vegetables, gravy, etc., to sweeter treats that looked like regular sugary custards and such. Paste was like a flat dough that could be savory or sweet depending on the recipe.


Line the sides of only a pudding dish with some nice paste, and fill it full of juicy, tender apples, peeled and sliced, with a little water to keep them moist. Cover the top of the dish with paste and bake until the apples are soft, then remove the crust and mash the apples while hot, adding sugar, butter, grated nutmeg and a little flavoring if desired. When cool, serve with rich cream, sweetened, flavored and whipped to a stiff froth, or the cream may be used without whipping. Either way the dish is delicious.

The first of several "regular" posts I have planned is called Lillian's Kitchen, named for Lillian Edmunds, who was Joshua L. Chamberlain's secretary. Lillian, who was actually a distant relative of Fanny's, later became Fanny's personal companion. During the last few years of Fanny's life, Lillian took care of her; the pair would even travel to Portland for shopping excursions. During this time, Joshua referred to Lillian as "a blessing to all" (J.L. Chamberlain, quoted in Smith, 302). After Fanny's 1905 death she became Joshua's housekeeper, and, as he grew older, his nurse at the Portland home where he spent the last years of his life. (Source: Pine Grove Cemetery of Brunswick, Maine) She was so loved by the Chamberlain family that "Joshua" (he was actually called Lawrence by family and friends) left her a space in the family cemetery plot, although her sister Elizabeth used it instead.

So in honor of Lillian's long service to the Chamberlain family, the kitchen posts here are named for her. Today we will begin with a recipe from The Cook's Oracle by William Kitchiner, MD, published in New York in 1829. It's very simple to get you started with how old recipes were worded.


FRENCH BEANS

Green beans
Salt

Cut off the stalk end first, and then turn to the point and strip off the strings. If not quite fresh, have a bowl of spring-water, with a little salt dissolved in it, standing before you, and as the beans are cleaned and stringed, throw them in. When all are done, put them on the fire in boiling water, with some salt in it; after they have boiled fifteen or twenty minutes, take one out and taste it; as soon as they are tender take them up; throw them into a colander or sieve to drain.

To send up the beans whole is much the better method when they are thus young, and their delicate flavor and color are much better preserved. When a little more grown, they must be cut across in two after stringing; and for common tables they are split, and divided across; cut them all the same length; but those who are nice never have them at such a growth as to require splitting.

When they are very large they look pretty cut into lozenges.