In my mind, few things are more delightful than climbing an old tower, winding up narrow, spiral steps, treading on stones, hundreds of years old, scrambling up creaking wooden staircased , all to reach the top platform and the amazing view spread out below. For centuries, people have built upward, both for better protection from enemies, and for the desire to feel closer to God. Whatever the original purpose, these monuments lure me to them, beg me to climb. And if you, like me, delight in such heights, Prague is the ideal place to visit.
Nicknamed the city of 100 spires, Prague actually has over 500 such steeples and towers reaching toward the skies. Since my recent visit to Prague was only a few days, I can’t claim to have climbed all, or even most of these. Instead, I managed these few.
Old Town Hall Tower
The Old Town Hall is best known for the Astrological Clock, which puts on a show every hour. This tower was built in the 14th century and is about 230 feet tall. The clock, built in the 15th century, is amazing, but the show is rather anticlimatic, lasting only a few minutes. We took a series of elevators to reach the top in time to look down upon the crowd gathered to watch the twelve apostles rotate. The picture on the right is a view of the city from the tower.
Powder Tower
The Powder Tower is one of my favorites. The entrance is a tiny door leading to a spiral stone staircase which you must climb to reach the first floor, where there is a guard/guide to check your ticket. The tower was built in the late 15th century. It stands as the entrance to the Royal Route, leading to Prague Castle. The tower includes wooden stairs as well as the stone steps. Inside there are several unusual statues. The view at the top is magnificent. Pictured here is a view including the Old Town Hall on the left, Our Lady of Tyn Church in the center, and St. Vitus Church at Prague Castle in the distance on the right.
Old Town Bridge Tower
Old Town Bridge Tower is a magnificent Gothic tower from the 14th century at one end of the Charles Bridge. It served as a triumphal arch for the Royal Route and as part of the city’s fortifications. Partway up there is a room decorated with the coats of arms of lands of the Holy Roman Empire. The mysterious statue of an old man, possible a warden is found near the top of the climb up to the viewing platform.
Lesser Town Bridge
At the opposite end of Charles Bridge is the Lesser Town Bridge Towers. This is a set of two towers, joined by a gallery and battlements. The smaller tower (the Judith Tower) was built in Romanesque style in the 12th century, and remodeled for a Renaissance look in 1591. The taller tower is late Gothic. It originally built in 1464. Together the two towers served as part of the town fortifications until the whole town was encircled by bastion fortifications in the 17th century.
I didn’t climb these towers, but they are visible from almost any other tower in the city. On the left is Our Lady before Tyn, right on the Old Town Square. The church was built in the Gothic style from the 14th to the 16th century. The interior was remodeled in the Baroque style in the 17th century. On the right is St. Vitus Cathedral in the Prague Castle complex. It is the largest and most important religious building in Prague. It was built starting in 1344 in the Gothic style. The main tower is 337 feet tall.
And finally, lest one think all the towers in Prague are centuries old, here is the Žižkov Television Tower, built between 1985 and 1992. At one time it was voted the ugliest building in Prague. In 2000, ten fiberglass babies by the sculptor, David Černý were added. These babies have a bar code instead of a face. The babies were replaced with identical, more permanent sculptures in 2017.
Obviously, these are just a few of the hundreds of spires and towers in Prague. Perhaps I’ll have a chance to go back someday and climb a few more. Afterall, didn’t Robert Browning say, “Ah, but a man’s reach should exceed his grasp, Or what’s a heaven for?”
Oats and Beans* and Barley Grow Oats and Beans* and Barley Grow But you nor I nor anyone know How Oats and Beans and Barley Grow
(Children’s rhyme and circle game first mentioned in Joshua Cushing’s The Fifer’s Companion (1790) *In some versions peas or wheat is substituted for beans.
We don’t hear a lot about barley these days, but it is, in fact, one of the oldest grains, first cultivated around 9000 BC in the Fertile Crescent. From there, barley diverged and spread through Asia, Europe and Africa with different varieties thriving in different places. I came across one such variety on a recent visit to Orkney.
Bere (pronounced close to bear or bare) is a six row barley variety that has been grown in the Orkney Islands of Scotland, for around 5000 years. It is a fast growing barley, sometimes called 90 day barely, well suited to the long summer days and longer winters in Northern climates. Besides growing well in the Orkneys, bere is very nutritious, having more protein than modern two row barleys.
Reconstructed neolithic house in Skara Brae
Early neolithic sites in Orkney include evidence of bere cultivation and processing. Centuries later, Pictish farmers grew bere. When the Nore came, the discovered bere was very similar to their barely variety which they called bygg.
A conversation with my son, an archeologist, leads me to hypothesize that the neolithic farmers did not bake bread or bannocks with bere, but made a grain porridge, either boiling bere meal and water in a clay pot on the hearth fire, or adding hot stones to the water and meal in the clay pot. It is likely they added other things to this porridge also, probably berries, seaweed, small rodents, fish, or anything else they planned to cook and eat. My son also reminded me that a pot of grain porridge left unrefrigerated ferments. These fermented porridges were mildly alcoholic and led to some of the first beers produced. I find it interesting to note that beer, potion, and poison probably all come from the same proto-indoEuropean root *po(i) to drink.
Neolithic people used a saddle quern to grind the grain. The grinder, probably a woman, would kneel, and rub a stone back and forth over the grain in the bowl of a larger stone. The oldest saddle quern found in the Orkeneys was dated to 3,600 BC and found at Knap of Howar on Papa Westray.
By the iron age, the saddle quern was replaced by a pair of flat mills stones, in which the upper one rotates. And then by the viking era, some mills were converted or built to use water power .
Nowadays, the Barony Mill, run by the Scottish Heritage Trust in Birsay, Orkney is the only mill still processing bere. The mill here has been in operation for over 300 years using an overshot waterwheel. I learned it takes two and a half days to process a load of bere. It must be dried, then ground through 3 wheels to remove the husk, crush the grain, and finally grind it into flour.
Views of Barony Mill: Drying oven, drying floor, grinding wheels, water wheel
Of course, I had to buy some bere flour, and bring it home to try out. So far I’ve made an apple cake and several types of bannocks. Bannocks, originally unleavened, flat cakes of barley or oat baked like pancakes on a flat stone, that had been heated in the fire.(later a griddle was used)
Early 1800’s unleavened bannocks:
300 ml (½ pt.) milk
25 gr. (1 scant oz) butter
230 gr. 8 oz. bere meal
1/4t. Salt.
Heat the milk and butter, add salt and meal to make a soft dough. Knead lightly, roll out about ¼” thick. Fry in a lightly oiled pan or griddle. Flip to finish. Makes 2 small bannocks
After baking soda and cream of tartar came into common use in the middle of the19th century, bannocks, along with all other quick breads, underwent a major revolution. Bere Bannocks made today are light and airy like a scone. There are several recipes available for bere bannocks, One of the best sources is Barony Mills: https://baronymill.com/orkney-bere-bannocks/
Unfortunately, as far as I know, bere meal is unavailable in the United States as it is only sold in the UK. Perhaps that’s one more good reason for a trip to Scotland.
Sources: Ashworth, Liz. Book of Bere. Berlin LTD, Edinburgh, 2017.
Anyone living in Southwest Wisconsin or Southeast Minnesota is likely to have heard of The House on the Rock. The place was even featured in Neil Gaimon’s American Gods. Not exactly museum, not quite an art gallery, this one-pf-a-kind house is an architectural wonder, full of …things. All kinds of things. Ships models and doll houses, Automated musical instruments, clocks and gears. Crown jewels and weapons of all types. The largest carousel in the world.
And dragons.
The house is built on a chimney of rock in rural Wisconsin. It features incredible views from cozy rooms using the natural rock to guide the size and shape of the structure. Alex Jordan, creative architect and collector extraordinaire began building it in 1945. It was opened to the public in 1960 and has attracted millions of visitors since then. Until his death in 1989, Alex kept adding onto the complex. The items within are a unique, and often unlabeled, collection of antiques and reproductions, a curious mix illustrating the wide-ranging interests of the creator.
To me , the most surprising feature is the vast number of dragons within the complex. Not a separate ‘dragon’ section, but the ubiquitous inclusion of dragons and dragon themed objects.
Though I suppose I really shouldn’t be surprised. After all, if a dragon were to find itself in Southwest Wisconsin, what better place to perch and build a nest than the quirky house on a rock, overlooking the vast fields and woods of the surrounding valleys?
You know how some words just mean what they sound like they should mean? I’m not talking about onomatopoeia, where the word imitates a sound. I’m talking about a certain mouthfeel where the sound and the meaning align perfectly. Maybe its just me, but I think steeple sounds pointy and blubber sounds bouncy.
Flummery is such a word. I think it sounds delicious, like a fluffy, sweet treat. But the problem with my whole theory is that such sound and meaning correlations are entirely subjective.
I discovered this with flummery. When I first proposed making it, my friend, without knowing anything about what it is, was decidedly uninterested. She thought it sounded horrible.
So I conducted a very informal survey, asking a little over a dozen people what they thought flummery means.
Answers varied from scam artist and buffoon to a fluffy dessert and a dish with barberries to everything in between. Turns out, most of them were at least partly right. Flummery is one of those words that has acquired a great many diverse meanings. Etymonline says flummerymeant a sour oatmeal jelly (from the Weslh ‘llymru’) in the 1600’s, then a sweet dessert in the 1700’s and flattery or empty talk, also in the 1700’s. Dictionary.com gives several meanings including boiled oatmeal, fruit custard, or foolish humbug.
There are as many variations in flummery recipes as there are in flummery definitions. The main thing all the flummery recipes have in common is that the dish is usually some sort of custardy gelatin, with more emphasis on either the custard or the gelatin, depending on the recipe. Even boiled oats have a custardy, gelatinous or even gooey texture. Flummery may or may not include any of the following ingredients: oatmeal, harsthorn, cream, almonds, jelly, calves feet, isinglass, eggs (yolks and/ or whites), wine, rose water, orange flower water, or sugar.
The first flummery I made was a sort of overnight (or over three days) oatmeal, using a recipe from John Towhnshend (p. 202). It involved soaking oatmeal in water for three days, straining off and replacing the water every day. After this soaking, the oatmeal is boiled until thick, put in molds, and served cold with wine and sugar. (The recipe also suggests beer and sugar or milk.) Even though I never would have associated oatmeal with wine, this dish was surprisingly good. Not great, but good enough to enjoy.
Another simple recipe for flummery is in Mary Randolph’s The Virginia Housewife Or, Methodical Cook (p.119) This is more pudding than jelly, and involves mixing equal measures of cream and jelly with half a measure of wine. This produces a very soft custardy dish that is very rich. I think it is best used as a sauce.
Since I didn’t have hartshorn or calves feet, I decided to try one of the isinglass recipes, such as French Flummery.
Identical recipes for French flummery appear in both John Townshend’s and Hannah Glasse’s books. (Many cookbooks following Glasse copied her recipes, often word for word, as does Townshend’s recipe) French Flummery is made with isinglass. I had no idea what that was. A little research taught me that isinglass is the dried swim bladders of fish, especially sturgeon. It has been used for centuries in making jellies (and coincidentally, glue). Today isinglass is available from the Amazon marketplace.
To Make French Flummery
Take a pint of cream and half an ounce of isinglass, beat it fine, and stir it into the cream. Let it boil softly over a slow fire a quarter of an hour, stirring all the time; then take it off, sweeten it to your palate and put in a spoonful of rosewater, and a spoonful orange-flower water; strain it and pour it into a glass or basin, or what you please, and when it is cold, turn it out. It makes a fine side dish. You may eat it with cream, wine, or what you please. Lay round it baked pears. It both looks very pretty, and eats fine. (Glasse, 186, Townshend,203)
I used 2 cups of cream, ¼ cup of sugar, 1 teaspoon each of rosewater and orange flower water, and ¼ ounce of isinglass. The first step was to powder the isinglass. It comes in 3 -4 inch long translucent ribbons. They are slightly rubbery, which meant that trying to powder them in a mortar was an exercise in frustration. I resorted to using a blender. My ¼ ounce of isinglass made 2 Tablespoons in powdered form. I cooked the cream and isinglass mixture long enough that the powdered isinglass had been absorbed. (about twenty minutes.) Then I added the sugar and waters, and cooked it until the sugar was melted. I put the mixture in custard cups and cooled them. As it cooled, the pudding separated into two layers, making an interesting appearance.
I made this in spring, when strawberries were in their prime, so I used them instead of baked pears. I expect Hannah would approve.
Flummery in many forms graced some fancier tables. Elizabeth Raffald, an English housekeeper who worked in Lady Warburton’s home for many years, gives several recipes for coloring flummery so that it could be used in many decorative dishes. In addition to the Moonshine described below, she has recipes for Eggs and Bacon Flummery, Solomon’s Temple in flummery, and Cribbage Cards in Flummery, among others. In medieval times, this use of food to create an edible centerpiece was called a subtlety.
I decided to make the Moonshine, as the name conjures up a more potent drink rather than a sweet dessert.
Moonshine Note Hannah Glasse has a moonshine recipe that is similar to, but not the same as, the one I made.
To Make Moonshine
Take the shapes of a Half-moon, and five or seven stars, wet them and fill them with Flummery, let them stand ‘till they are cold, then turn them into deep China Dish, and pour Lemon cream round them, made thus: Take a pint of Spring Water, put to it the juice of three Lemons and the yellow Rind of one Lemon, the Whites of five Eggs, well beaten, and four Ounces of Loaf Sugar, then set it over a slow Fire and stir it one Way till it looks White and thick; If you let it boil it will curdle, then strain it through a Hair Sieve, and let it stand ‘till it is cold, beat the Yolks of five Eggs, mix them with your Whites, set them over the Fire, and keep stirring it ‘till it is almost ready to boil, then pour it into a Bason; when it is cold pour it among your Moon and Stars: Garnish with Flowers.
It is a proper Dish for a second Course, either for Dinner or Supper. (p. 178)
For the Flummery, I used Raffald’s recipe for Yellow Flummery.
Take two Ounces of Isinglass, beat it and open it, put it into a Bowl, and pour a pint of boiling water upon it, cover it up ‘till almost cold, than add a Pint of White Wine, the Juice of two Lemons with the Rind of one, the Yoiks of eight eggs beat well, sweeten it to your Taste, put it in a Tossing Pot and keep stirring it, when it boils strain it thro’ a fine Sieve, when almost cold put it into Cups or Moulds. )p. 172)
Both of these recipes use a lot of eggs, so I cut them down.
First I made the Flummery:
1 ounce isinglass (powdered in a blender)
1 cup boiling water
1 cup white wine (choose a sweet rather than dry white)
Juice of 1 lemon and the yellow rind of half of it
4 egg yolks
½ c. brown sugar
Pour boiling water on the isinglass, and stir until the isinglass dissolves. Add the remaining ingredients and bring it slowly to a soft boil. (Don’t let it boil hard.) Strain it through a fine strainer. Pour it into a flat dish, either 8 by 8 or 9 x 13”. Let it cool, then cut it into the shapes of stars and moons. ) Cookie cutters or a drinking glass works well.
While it is cooling, make the lemon cream.
2 cups water
½ cup lemon juice
2 Tablespoons grated lemon peel
2 eggs, separated
1 cup sugar
½ teaspoon saffron (optional)
Mix the water, lemon juice, lemon peel, sugar and egg whites in a saucepan. Cook slowly, stirring constantly until thick. Do not let it boil. Mix a little of the hot mixture into the egg yolks, (to prevent curdling) then add the egg yolks to the saucepan. Cook, stirring constantly, until it is almost ready to boil. Note: in order to make a greater contrast between the flummery moon and stars and the lemon cream, I added a half teaspoon of saffron to the lemon cream along with the egg yolks. Saffron was not included int the original recipe, but it was known and used as a coloring agent in Raffald’s time, so I feel she would approve..
Put your flummery cut-outs in a flat dish or pie plate, and pour the lemon cream around them. Let cool and serve.
This was the tastiest of the flummery dishes, but the flummery shapes were quite rubbery. I think the same recipe with less isinglass would work as well, or better.
In spite of its versatility, I don’t see a resurgence of flummery is likely. All of the flummery dishes I made tasted interesting, and some were even pretty good. However, we have easier methods of making jellied desserts. Still, flummery is such an intriguing word, perhaps its meaning will evolve again. Can you imagine marshmallow flummery?
Sources:
Glasse, Hannah. The Art of Cookery Made Plain and Easy: Excelling any Thing of the Kind ever yet published. Alexandria: Cottom and Stewart. 1805. (First Edition published in London, 1747. This edition reprint of 1st American Edition, 1805, by Applewood Books, 1997).
Raffald, Elizabeth.The Experienced English Housekeeper. Originally published 1769, Manchester, England. This reprint published 2024, Townsends.
Randolph, Mary. The Virginia Housewife Or, Methodical Cook. Philadelphia: E. H. Butler & Co., 1860. (Facsimile by Dover Publications, 1993, with introduction by Janice Bluestein Longone).
Townshend, John. The Universal Cook or Lady’s Complete Assistant. S. Bladon: London, 1773 (facsimile).
I have alway loved education and dreamed of going to college from the time I was about ten years old. I have happily pursued that dream in many different places. Years ago, I attended classes at the Sorbonne University in Paris, France. At the time, I learned that the Sorbonne was one of the first established universities in the world. Founded between 1160 and 1250, it is certainly among the oldest in Europe. However, since the university suspended operation during the French revolution and the upheaval following, the Sorbonne is not the longest-running university in Europe.
In fact, the title for ‘oldest university’ is in dispute, partly because there are different interpretations of what constitutes a university. Currently, a university is considered to be an institute of higher learning offering degrees in multiple, diverse programs. The word ‘university’ comes from the Latin phrase, universitas magistrorum et scholarium ” meaning community of masters and scholars’. By that definition we would have to consider the scholars of ancient Greece, China, and the Middle East as constituting ‘universities,’ and predating anything else in Europe, Asia, or Africa.
Perhaps it is the idea of continuous operation that determines which university is oldest. However even with this definition, we still have multiple contenders for the title. Most often, the University of Bologna in Italy, founded in 1088 with a focus in law studies is listed as the first. However, nearly 200 years earlier, the university of Al-Quarawiynn was begun in Morocco. The founder was a woman named Fatima al-Fihri, and the center offered differing degrees in varying subjects. Both of these institutions are still in existence.
Salamanca University Library
Recently I visited Salamanca University, founded in 1134, and receiving a royal charter in 1218. This institution legitimately lays claim to the title ‘oldest University in Spain.’ Among the many famous and infamous students are Christopher Columbus, Hernando Cortez, Miguel de Cervantes, and the first Grand Inquisitor of Spain, Tomás de Torquemada.
However, de Alava’s message to 16th century viewers was probably quite different. What we call a frog is more likely a toad, which was a symbol of female sexuality. The creature is perched on a skull, symbolizing death. The message to the medieval (male) students was clear: Don’t dally with women and give in to carnal lusts or you are doomed.
Regardless of the university’s title or its former students, the buildings housing the University of Salamanca are breathtakingly beautiful. Staircase banisters are made of elaborately carved stone. The library, one of the oldest in Europe, is a scholar’s dream. I visited on a rain-soaked day in late fall. Standing under dripping umbrellas, my companions and I found the legendary stone frog perches on a stone skull near the entryway. The elaborate work of this entry was designed by Juan de Alava and completed in the 16th century. According to the current legend, any students who cannot find the frog are bound to fail in their studies.
In the end, it doesn’t really matter which university is oldest, first, or longest running. The University of Salamanca is certainly on my list of great places for learning.
In elementary school, we all learn about the Lewis and Clark expedition, that epic journey of discovery. Most of us have also heard of Sacagawea, and her vital role in the expedition as translator, guide, and ambassador. Less well-known are the living conditions of the company. Since I’m especially interested in women’s contributions to history I find Sacagawea’s story fascinating, not just because of the important guidance she gave the captains, but also because of her skill as a mother.
Sacagawea and her son, Jean-Baptiste Charbonneau, at Fort Clatsop
Remember, Sacagawea was a Shoshoni girl about 10 years old when she was kidnapped by the Hidatsa. She was taken from her home in Idaho to a village near Mandan, North Dakota. There she was sold, along with another girl from her village, to a Frenchman, Toussaint Charbonneau. Charbonneau married both girls, though I have never heard whether or not the girls agreed to the wedding.
In any case, Sacagawea gave birth to their son, Jean-Baptiste Charbonneau (nicknamed Pompey), on February 11, 1805. Less than two months later, on April 5, 1805, the company departed for the west, with Sacagawea carrying her infant son.
Now I’d be the last to suggest that modern parenting is easy. All decisions regarding the health, safety, and future happiness of the child rest on the parent’s shoulders. But today we have disposable diapers, along with innumerable gadgets, equipment, toys, and carrying devices to make caring for an infant easier. Can you imagine setting off on a journey with your child on your back? There were no air-conditioned cars or motels along the way. Sacagawea travelled by foot, horse or open boat the entire journey, and she kept her baby alive.
In the winter of 1806, when Pompey was still less than one year old, the Lewis and Clark expedition reached the Pacific Ocean and built Fort Clatsop. They started building on December 8, 1805, and moved in on Christmas Eve, though the roof was not yet finished. Although Sacagawea had a vote in the decision of where to put the fort, I’m sure she never imagined the mud.
Fort Clatsop (reconstruction) Lewis and Clark National Monument, Oregon
Days and days of mud.
I visited Fort Clatsop on a beautiful, warm and sunny day. The surrounding cedar forest was cool and shady, with a carpet of soft needles lining the paths. The Lewis and Clark expedition had a vastly different experience. Of their three month stay at this fort, it rained all but twelve days.
On top of the endless rain, the fort was built for military purposes, not comfort. Thirty two men, one woman, a baby, and a dog lived in the two buildings. The angled roofs were high on the outer edges, and sloped down to a central courtyard. That means all that rain collected in the narrow yard between the buildings. Inside was dark, smoky, and full of fleas. Outside was wet.
Small, high windows provide little light.Rough bunks provide little comfort.
Here Pompy passed his first birthday. He probably crawled about in the mud and played with the men or the dog. He may have spoken his first words and learned to walk. And through it all, Sacagawea kept him healthy.
We learn from the journals Lewis and Clark kept that they left Fort Clatsop on March 23, 1806, as soon as they could. Everyone was tired of this miserable fort. I imagine Sacagawea was just as anxious as the men to leave. The journey back would be long and arduous, but never boring.
Perhaps having a roof over one’s head is not such a luxury where there’s a sea of mud beneath one’s feet.
Let me explain. The great castles of Europe were massive stone structures, built for defense against large groups of marauders. Many are also beautiful, but the aesthetic is not the primary goal.
On the other hand, while Nijo-jo was also built for defense, beauty, peace, and serenity are equally valued. In this way, it is more like the later, ornate palaces of Europe’s 18th century, built at least in part to show off to other nobles.
Nijo-jo was planned and constructed in the early 17th century, at the beginning of the Edo period, when Japan was ruled by the Tokugawa family–the Tokugawa shogunate- and Kyoto was the Imperial Capital of Japan. The first shogun of the Tokugawa shogunate, Ieyasu Tokugawa, used it as his residence whenever he was in Kyoto.
Though lighter and airier than some of its European counterparts, Nijo-jo has its share of fortifications. The castle complex has an inner and an outer ring of defense, each ring consisting of a stone wall and a moat. Originally, the outer wall had four watchtowers, but only two of these remain. These tall, white buildings with distinctly Japanese curved roofs are landmarks in Kyoto.
Three gates in the outer wall provide access to the Ninomaru area, which includes the Ninomaru palaces and gardens. The five interconnecting buildings of the palace are mostly made of cyprus wood and are decorated with gold leaf. Elegant wall and screen door paintings and ornate carvings were meant to further impress visitors with the shogun’s power and wealth.
There are two gates in the inner wall, leading to the Hon-maru area. When first built, his inner palace was similar to the 1603 Ninomaru palace, but in 1893 some of the buildings from the Katsura Palace in theKyoto Imperial Enclosure were moved here, replacing the older buildings.
Between the inner and outer walls, visitors can stroll through the 400 year old Zen Buddhist gardens. This garden features a small lake, with three islands and several artfully placed stones.
The most unusual defensive aspect of Nijo-jo are its Nightingale Floors. How are squeaky (singing) floors defensive? Well no one can walk on them without making noise, thus alerting the guards within the castle. The floors were designed so that the nails of the slightly curved floor boards would rub on the joint clamps. It’s possible that the resulting chirping was an accident of design, but I prefer the legend. After all, floors that sing a warning add an aura of magic to an already awe-inspiring place.
Most people I know, know the day as Mardi Gras, the last day to feast and use up forbidden foods before the privations of Lent begin. Mardi Gras is French for ‘fat Tuesday.’ It is most often associated with the wild parades and parties of New Orleans.
Of course, there are other traditions surrounding this important day. Some people know it as Shrove Tuesday. ‘Shrove’ is an archaic form of ‘shrive’, which means to confess one’s sins and receive absolution from a priest. In times past, many Christians felt it was important to go to confession on the last day before Lenten fasting begins.
Still another name for this day is Pancake Day. Why pancakes? Well, in some places it became the tradition to serve pancakes on this day as a way to use up eggs and other rich foods which were not allowed. Some of the traditions associated with Pancake Day include Pancake flipping contests, Pancake races, and various other games.
In the Middle Ages, pancakes were very popular. They are quick and easy to cook over a fire, requiring few special utensils or any great skill. Various types of pancakes graced the tables of the rich nobles in their manor houses and castles, as well as the poor serfs who worked the land.
Most of us today have a fairly universal idea of a pancake—generally a mixture of flour, milk, and eggs, with a bit of baking powder and perhaps a few added ingredients. The batter is poured onto a hot skillet or griddle, flipped, and served with melted butter and maple syrup. It is most often considered proper fare for breakfast. In England, pancakes are usually very thin, similar to crèpes. However, in times past, many other combinations were also thought of as pancakes . Some of these included such ingredients as cheese, fruit, breadcrumbs, or wine.
So, on Tuesday, February 22 try something new and celebrate Pancake Day. The recipes below are from the 17th century. Both are a delicious treat, unlike any more modern concept of pancake. The first offers the harried cook of a big house an easy option. Note that in the 17th century ‘meate’ meant food of any sort.
A Fryed Meate [Pancakes] in Haste for the Second Course
Take a pint of Curds made tender of morning milk, pressed clean from the Whey, put to them one handful of flour, six eggs, casting away three whites, a little Rose-water, Sack, Cinnamon, Nutmeg, Sugar, Salt, and two Pippins minced small, beat this all together into a thick batter, so that it may not run abroad; if you want wherewith to temper it, add Cream; when they are fryed scrape on Sugar and send them up; if this curd be made with Sack as it may as well as Rhennet, you may make a pudding with the Whey thereof. (Rabisha, as quoted in Lorwin, 140)
Modern Version : Apple pancakes (Fritters)
1c. Cottage cheese
1 egg plus 2 egg yolks
1 apple, peeled and grated
2 T. brown sugar
1 T. sherry
½ t. Salt
½ t. Nutmeg
½ t. Cinnamon
¼ c. flour
Approx. ¼ c. butter for frying
Puree the eggs and cottage cheese in a blender, then add the mixture to the remaining ingredients, except for the butter. Melt the butter in a skillet and drop the pancake batter by spoonfuls into it. As bubbles rise and pop, flip the pancakes to fry on the other side. These will be a soft, moist pancake, quite delicious without any extra syrup or sugar.
The second pancake recipe is also quite different than what we are used to. This one is a sort of fried cheese fritter. (Note I made a small recipe, about one third of what is suggested here, because I didn’t want to have too many egg whites leftover.)
How to Fry a Dish of Cheese
Take quarter of a pound of good Cheese, or Parmysant, and grate it and put to it a little grated bread, a fewCaraway seeds beaten, the yolks of as many eggs as will make it into a stiff batter, so it will not run, fry it brown in Butter, and pour on drawn Butter with Claret wine when they are dished. (Rabisha, as qtd. in Lorwin, 330.)
A modern Version: Cheese Pancakes
1 ½ cups grated sharp Cheddar cheese
1 t. Caraway seeds
2 egg yolks
¼ t. Salt
¼ c. bread crumbs, plus 1 T.
3 – 4 T.. butter
⅓ c. red wine
Grind the caraway seeds and salt in a mortar. Mix them with the cheese, egg yolks, and bread crumbs and form into patties about ½” thick. Fry in butter until slightly browned on both sides. Set the pancakes aside to keep warm. Add remaining butter (at least 1 T.) to the skillet. When it is melted, add bread crumbs and then the wine. Stir until thickened. Then spread this over the pancakes to serve. This makes a lovely lunch dish.
Whether you want to flip them, race with them, or just eat them, enjoy your pancakes this season.
Rabisha, William. The whole Body of Cookery Dissected. Printed by R. W. for Giles Calvert, at the sign of the black Spread Eagle, at the West end of Pauls, 1661. Quoted in Lorwin, Madge. Dining with William Shakespeare. New York: Atheneum, 1976.
Nothing conjures the tastes and smells of the Christmas season better than gingerbread. We delight in gingerbread cookies, gingerbread spices, and gingerbread houses.
Not surprisingly, there have been many variations of gingerbread throughout the ages. In the earliest versions, gingibrati was primarily medicinal, and sometimes called for parsnips. The gingerbread we now recognize has gone through great metamorphosis, though in any given age, multiple versions of gingerbread might be known.
Version 1:
By medieval times gingerbread was a sweet dish made from breadcrumbs, mixed with spices and infused with warm honey, then smashed into the form of a cake. Variations of this type of gingerbread lasted well into the colonial era. (At least four such recipes are included in Martha Washington’s Booke of Cookery.)
The earliest recipe for this medieval gingerbread that I’ve found is from the Curye on Inglysch, Section V, which is a miscellaneous collection of recipes from around the 14th century.
To make gingerbread. Take goode honye and clarifyie it on the fere, & take fayre paynemayn or wastrel brede and grate it, & caste it into the boylynge hony, & stere it well togyder faste with a skylse that it bren not to the vessel. & thanne take it doun and put therein ginger, longe pepere & saunders, & tempere it up with thine handles; & than put hem to a flatt boyste and strawe theron sugar, & pick therin clowes round aboute by the egge and in the midas, yf it plece you, &c. (Curye on Inglysch, Sloane 121)
Interestingly enough, the recipe immediately preceding this one for making gingerbread, calls for only honey and spices and would result in a sort of ginger candy like a ginger chew or ginger drop. Not a bread or cake at all.
For modernizing this recipe, I substituted allspice for saunders (sandalwood). Also instead of placing whole cloves on the edges and middle, I used ground cloves.
Version 2: Fast forward a couple of centuries.
Gingerbread in many shapes became popular throughout Europe, especially in Germany, where cookies shaped for the various seasons were sold at markets and fairs. Germany is also where the tradition of gingerbread houses developed in the 16th century. The Grimm fairy tale of Hansel and Gretel reflects this idea of a house made of sweets.
Though honey/crumb gingerbread continued in some recipes, eventually flour replaced bread crumbs, and molasses (alternately called treacle) replaced honey. In 1775, Townshend included a couple of recipes for gingerbread, both of which include butter. One also adds eggs. Townshend suggests both of these make a stiff dough, to be rolled out and cut in shapes, or rolled into balls. The result should be very much like a modern gingerbread cookie or molasses crinkle, though he calls them cakes.
To make gingerbread cakes
Take three pounds of flour, one pound of sugar, one pound of butter rubbed in very fine, two ounces of ginger beat fine, a large nutmeg grated, some beaten mace and coriander seeds; then take a pound of treacle, a quarter pint of cream, make them warm together, and make up the bread stiff, roll it out, and make it up into thin cakes, cut hem out with a teacup , or small glass, or roll them round like nu ts, and bake them on tin plates in a slack oven. (Townshend, 266)
Since three pounds of flour is 13 or 14 cups, this makes a very large amount of cookies. The result is a rich, crisp, tender cookie, with a spicy tang, rather like a molasses shortbread.
For modern bakers, I suggest reducing the recipe to one quarter of the original.
Colonial Gingerbread
3 ½ cups flour
¼ c. sugar (I suspect sugar was added because molasses is not as sweet as honey.)
1 t. dried ginger
¼ c. molasses (though today there are some minor differences between treacle and molasses, the words were used nearly interchangeably in the colonial period. Molasses may be safely substituted for treacle.)
½ t. Nutmeg,
¼ t. Mace
¼ t. ground coriander
2 T. cream
Mix the dry ingredients and cut the butter into the mixture. Add the molasses and cream to make a stiff dough. Roll out and cut into shapes, or roll into small balls. Bake at 350 degrees 12-16 minutes.
Version 3: About 20-30 years later
The next innovation was the use of a chemical leavening agent: pearl ash. (See On cooking with Pearl Ash .)
In 1796, Amelia Simmons leaves out the molasses entirely, and uses sugar instead. She calls for great quantities of eggs in some recipes (20 eggs for 4 pounds of flour in her Gingerbread No. 2.) She also includes pearl ash. Her recipes have far fewer spices than some earlier versions. Though called ‘soft gingerbread to be baked in pans”, all 4 of her recipes call for a stiff dough, to be shaped as it pleases. These recipes are the basis for the cookies I discussed in Dead Cakes. By the end of the 18th century Gingerbread was well-known with many varieties, from cookies to cakes, with and without eggs, molasses, and a variety of spices.
Mrs. Child’s recipe from 1833 uses pearl ash for leavening and produces a heavy, sponge-like cake. Adding eggs or a more sour cider would make it a bit lighter. Pearlash requires an acid to make it foam. Apple cider vinegar works well to dissolve it.
“A cake of common gingerbread can be stirred up very quick in the following way. Rub a bit of shortening as big as an egg into a pint of flour; if you use lard, add a little salt; two or three great spoonfuls of ginger; one cup of molasses, one cup and a half of cider, and a great spoonful of dissolved pearlash, put together and poured into the shorted flour while it is foaming; to be put in the oven in a minute. It ought to be just thick enough to pour into the pans with difficulty; if these proportions make it too thin, use less liquid the next time you try. Bake about twenty minutes.” (Child, 70).
My Recipe:
3 c. flour
¼ c. margarine or shortening
1 t. Salt
1 T. ginger (dried, powdered) or 2 T. grated fresh
1 c. cider
1 c. molasses
1 T. pearl ash
½ c. cider vinegar
Mix flour, salt, and ginger. Cut or rub in margarine. Add molasses and cider and mix well. Dissolve the pearl ash in the cider vinegar and immediately add it to the batter (while the pearl ash/vinegar is still foaming.) Pour into a greased 8” or 9“ baking pan. Bake at 350 degrees for about 20 minutes. Test with a toothpick.
Version 4: Mid- 20th century
As I’ve noted before, pearl ash is not the best leavening ingredient because it can leave a bitter taste and does not work well. Baking soda was known by the late 1700’s, but was not in home use until the 1860’s. It quickly replaced potash as more reliable and less likely to produce a bitter taste. Baking powder, which is a mixture of baking soda( an alkaline), cream of tartar ( a an acid), and cornstarch ( a buffer to prevent premature activation), was also developed in the middle of the 19th century. This last version of gingerbread is much more like a modern cake or quick bread: light, fluffy, and delicious. Notice the use of brown sugar along with molasses.
Household Searchlight Recipe Book
1 Cup Brown Sugar
2 Eggs, Well Beaten
1 Cup Sour Milk
1 Teaspoon Baking-Soda
3 Cups Flour
1 Teaspoon Ginger
¾ Cup Molasses
1 Teaspoon Cinnamon
¾ Cup Melted Shortening
¼ Teaspoon Salt
Combine eggs, sugar, shortening, and molasses. Sift flour, measure ands sift with baking=soda, and spices. Add alternately with milk to first mixture. Beat until well blended…” (Migliario, et al., 45)
This recipe is modern enough to follow with much interpretation. It calls for a well-oiled pan, but doesn’t say what size. I made 5” x 9” loaf with ⅔ of the batter, and put the rest in a 9” x9” square pan. Bake the square for 30 minutes and the loaf for 40 minutes. Test with a toothpick. Note: to make sour milk, add 1 T. vinegar to 1 c. milk.
Whether you like cookies, or cake, or just like to use gingerbread for building houses, here’s hoping you enjoy the taste of ginger this holiday season. Merry Christmas!
Sources:
Child, Lydia Marie. The American Frugal Housewife. Dedicated to those who are not ashamed of economy. 12th Edition. Boston: Carter, Hendee, and Co. 1833. (First published 1828)
Curye on Inglysch: English Culinary Manuscripts of the Fourteenth Century (Including the “Forme of Cury”) Constance B. Heiatt (Editor), and Sharon Butler (Editor). Oxford University Press; 1st Edition edition, 1985.
Glasse, Hannah. The Art of Cookery Made Plain and Easy: Excelling any Thing of the Kind ever yet published. Alexandria: Cottom and Stewart. 1805. (First Edition publishing in London, 1747. This edition reprint of 1st American Edition, 1805, by Applewood Books, 1997).
—–. Martha Washington’s Booke of Cookery and Booke of Sweetmeats. (A Family Manuscript, Hand written circa 17th century. Transcribed and annotated by Karen Hess, New York: Columbia University Press, 1995).
Migliario,Ita, et al., editors. The Household Searchlight Recipe Book. The Household Magazine. Topeka, Kansas, 1941.
Randolph, Mary. The Virginia Housewife Or, Methodical Cook. Philadelphia: E. H. Butler & Co., 1860. (Facsimile by Dover Publications, 1993, with introduction by Janice Bluestein Longone).
Simmons, Amelia. The First American Cookbook: A Facsimile of “American Cookery,” 1796. Hartford: Hudson and Godwin, 1976. (This facsimile includes a preface by Mary Tolford Wilson, and was first published in 1958, Oxford University Press. This Dover Edition reprint was published 1984.)
In the United States today, we can eat just about anything we want whenever we want. Even with the recent supply chain issues, fresh fruit, shipped from South America or elsewhere, is available even in the dead of a Minnesota winter. We don’t have to pay attention to what’s in-season. (Although I still believe fresh and seasonal is better.)
peach chips
In any case, it wasn’t so long ago that the only way to eat fruit in winter was to preserve it, and so many historical cookbooks have a lot of recipes for preserving foods by drying, pickling, salting, or sugaring.
This month I’m thinking particularly about peaches. Peaches originated in China at least 4000 years ago, and feature heavily in many Chinese tales (including Journey to the West, arguably the most well-known Chinese story). The trees quickly spread westward. The Romans thought that peaches came from Persia, and so called them malum persicum (persian apple). This became pêche in French, then peach in English. Romans cultivated peaches in many parts of their empire, but with the fall of Rome, peach production in much of Europe declined.
The Spanish brought the peach to North America in the 16th century, where it quickly spread wildly through cultivation by Native Americans and on its own. In fact, peaches did so well in North America that some botanists assumed the peach was indigenous.
Thomas Jefferson was among the colonists who loved peaches. Peaches were widely grown in Virginia and other parts of the south, often as hog feed or to make into a fermented drink called Mobby (which could be used as cider, or distilled into brandy.)(Beverley, 260.)
As a teenager in San Jose, California, I had some interesting experiences with peaches. The first was when my younger brother and I were hired as pickers on summer day. We climbed into the back of a truck along with about a dozen other teens. We were driven to an orchard outside the city and set free to pick. The pay was .50 a lug. It soon became apparent that my brother and I were not destined to get rich from this job. The day was hot, and peaches were scarce on the trees. It turned out we’d been taken to a ‘pre-picked’ orchard to glean the remainder. I think we earned under two dollars to split between us for that day’s work. It taught me to appreciate farm labor, and convinced me to look for other work.
A few years later I gave up a remarkably fun job at Frontier Village, a local amusement theme park, to work in a peach cannery. I worked the swing shift since it paid better than the day shift. My job was to stand by a conveyor belt and remove any slices of rotten peach as they flowed by and into the cans. We were provided with plastic hair nets, gloves, and aprons, but peach juice permeated the air and seeped into our pores. Stray hairs tickled my cheek, but any casual, thoughtless attempt to tuck the hair back in only made me stickier. Possibly the worst part of this job was the dripping ceiling. The cannery was a metal pole building. In the daytime, the sun beat on the roof and the steam for the peach processing rose. When the sun went down the metal quickly cooled so that all night long, the roof rained sweet peach juice. For several years after moving on from that job, I steered clear of peaches in any form.
But I’ve come to appreciate fresh peaches all over again, especially at this time of year. August is the month when peaches are at their best. Although peaches don’t grow well as far north as Minnesota, truckloads of fresh peaches arrive in town from Georgia. I like to buy a box of them, and gorge on the delicious fruit all month. But even with a peach a day, I can’t always eat them all before they spoil. So,like my ancestors, I’ve been exploring ways to preserve peaches.
The easiest is freezing sliced peaches, a luxury the American colonists didn’t have. There are many recipes for peach marmalade in early American cookbooks. But the recipe I found most intriguing was for peach chips.
Mary Randolph’s recipe is very simple (Randolph, 156). It is basically a way to candy the peaches, thus preserving both their color and their flavor. Randolph’s recipe calls for drying the peaches in the sun, but the modern cook can easily use a dehydrator for the same purpose.
Modern version of a recipe for Peach Chips:
Slice 2 peaches very thin. Put them in a pot with half their weight in sugar (about 4 ounces or ½ c.) and a little water. Bring it gently to a boil, and boil the mixture a few minutes, until the peach slices look transparent. Stir gently from time to time, but avoid stirring too much so as not to break up the peaches. Strain off the syrup (which can be used for pancakes or as flavoring for tea or coffee). Dry the slices in a single layer either in a dehydrator or in the sun. (It’s also possible to dry peach slices without candying them–just like apples.)
And enjoy the delicious flavor of peaches year-round.
Sources:
Beverley, Robert. The History of Virginia (Richmond: J. W. Randolph, 1855), 260. Original work published London, 1705, with title: The History and Present State of Virginia
Randolph, Mary. The Virginia Housewife Or, Methodical Cook. Philadelphia: E. H. Butler & Co., 1860. (Facsimile by Dover Publications, 1993, with introduction by Janice Bluestein Longone).
BRIC-A-BRAC 