BRIC-A-BRAC

Turkey with Oysters

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Not everyone likes oysters. In fact, I wasn’t too sure of them myself. So I wasn’t really surprised when finding guests to try turkey stuffed with oysters proved a bit difficult. Some people I asked were evasive, claiming, “I’m not really a fan of oysters,” or “I think I’m busy. When did you say it would be?” Others were more blunt. “No way! I hate oysters.” But one couple was enthusiastic from the start. “How unusual. Count us in,” they said.

They would have fit in well back in colonial times and the early republic when oysters were quite popular, judging by period cookbooks. There are two recipes for various ways of serving oysters in The American Frugal Housewife (1833), three in Martha Washington’s Booke of Cookery (from 1749), nine in The Virginia Housewife Or, Methodical Cook (1824), and twelve in The Universal Cook or Lady’s Complete Assistant (1733). Amelia Simmons cautions a housewife to buy only fresh fish, but allows oysters can be brought many miles inland”and retain a good relish” (6) and offers recipe for turkey stuffed with oysters in American Cookery (1796) the first cookbook printed in theUnited States.

Of course, oysters have been a healthy, popular food for many centuries. Folk-wisdom claims oysters can only be eaten in months with an ‘r’ in it. This is possibly due to the spawning season and hot weather. However, with the advent of refrigeration and types of oysters bred to be sterile, oysters can be safely eaten year-round, even though here in small-town Minnesota, it’s impossible to find fresh oysters in the spring and summer. Around here, oysters are popular for Christmas Eve, when many people traditionally serve Oyster stew.

It is especially fitting to talk of oysters in the month of February, when oysters are at their peak and we gear up toward that most romantic holiday, Valentine’s Day. Legend has it that oysters are an aphrodisiac. (There may be some fact in this suppositon, since oysters are high in zinc, which helps stimulate testosterone production, along with other minerals that improve overall health and stimulate the libido.)

In spite of the long-time love affair America has had with oysters, pairing oysters with turkey seemed an odd combination. However, nearly all of the Eighteenth Century cookbooks I consulted put the two together as at least one of the options for preparing fowl. Obviously, common cookery practice insisted turkey should be stuffed with oyster forcement (stuffing) and /or served with oyster sauce. The recipe I followed for this dish also deviated from our usual perception of turkey because it called for boiling the bird. The goal, it seems, was to present a creamy white bird, with no browning on the skin whatsoever. Mary Randolph suggests leaving the turkey in the pot with the lid on to finish cooking from the steam will ‘keep the skin whole, tender, and very white” (71).

The results? The meal was surprisingly delicious. The turkey was moist and tender. The oyster stuffing with a hint of black pepper complemented it nicely, and the oyster sauce added a bit of zing to the meal. It just goes to show, that even though tastes in food have changed, it’s worth exploring flavors from the past for an unexpected treat. And thank you, to the Rethlefsons, who were willing to try.

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To Boil a Turkey with Oyster Sauce

Grate a loaf of bread, chop a score or more of oysters fine, add nutmeg, pepper and salt to your taste mix it up into a light forcemeat with a quarter of a pound of butter, a spoonful or two of cream, and three eggs; stuff the craw with it, and ke the rest into balls and boil them; sew up the turkey, dedge it well with flour, put it in a kettle of cold water, cover it, and set it over the fire; as the scum begins to rise, take it off, let it boil very slowly for half an hour, then take off your kettle and keep it closely covered; if it be of a middle size, let it stand in the hot water half an hour, the steam being kept in, will stew it enough, make it rise,keep the skin whole, tender, and very white; when you dish it pour on a little oyster sauce, lay the balls round, and serve it up with the rest of the sauce in a boat. (Randolph 71)

Modern version:

Cut in small cubes 1 loaf of wheat bread (Iused a 1 lb, day old, homemade loaf). This makes about 8 c. of crumbs.

Mince about 1 lb oy oysters (20-30 oysters)

Add oysters to the bread crumbs. Mix in ½ c. butter (melted), 2 T. cream, ¼ t. Nutmeg, 1 t. Pepper, 1 t. Salt, and 3 eggs (beaten slightly).

Stuff a small turkey (10 lbs) with about half of this mixture. (Put the stuffing in the body cavity and the smaller cavity covered by the loose breast skin.) Secure the extra skin over the opening with skewers. Tie the legs and put the stuffed bird in a large kettle. Add enough water to cover the bird.

Bring to a boil, and simmer for about 2 hours. (I found the turkey was not done after the 1 hour cooking time suggested in the recipe.)

About half an hour before serving the meal, form the rest of the stuffing into small balls (about the size of eggs). Drop these in boiling water,and boil for about ½ an hour.

Put the turkey on a platter. Drain the extra stuffing balls and place around the turkey to serve it.

I also served an oyster sauce with this, made from a combination of different Eighteenth century suggestions.

My oyster sauce:

Heat a pound of oysters in their own broth. Add 1 cup of light wine, ¼ t. Of mace, and ¼ t. Pepper. Bring to a slow boil. Mix 4 T. butter with ¼ c. flour. Stir the floured butter into the boiling mixture. Boil, stirring constantly for 2 minutes, or until it thickens.

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Sources:

Randolph, Mary. The Virginia Housewife Or, Methodical Cook. Philadelphia: E. H. Butler and Co., 1860. Reprinted Dover Publications,1993.

Townshend, John. The Universal Cook Or Lady’s Complete Assistant. London: S. Bladon, 1773.

Hadrian’s Wall: A Reminder of Roman Empire

wall at housestead — Hadrian’s Wall from Housesteads

Throughout history, great empires have built walls for many different reasons. Some were meant to keep people in (the Berlin Wall- built in 1961 and torn down in 1991). Others kept people out (The Great Wall in China, built over several centuries and still standing in places).The wall I’d like to talk about here is Hadrian’s Wall, built on the Roman frontier in the second century, CE.

Hadrian’s Wall was an engineering marvel. It stretches 73 miles from coast to coast across the England. The first plan called for 80 milecastles with two stone watch towers or turrets between each pair and a gate at each milecastle. This plan changed so that in addition to the milecastles, but instead of a gate at each one, seventeen larger forts were eventually built along the wall, and a large ditch was constructed south of the wall. This effectively reduced the number of places troops could go through the wall to the north, or northern traders could cross the wall toward the south. The gates were double wide, allowing for greater mobility for the Roman Army.

This change helps us understand some of the purposes for the wall. Though it served as a effective barrier against some of the northern Pictish tribes, the wall was not primarily for defense. This can be seen by the fact that the doors on the turrets were at ground level. In fact, it seems the primary purpose of the wall was economic. Rome wanted to control (and tax) trade into and out of their empire. The wall, some 6-10 feet wide and 11- 20 feet tall, built mostly of stone, was probably covered in plaster and white-washed. It served as a stunning monument to Rome’s power and reach. “Here begins civilization!” the wall seemed to proclaim. All who would enter, must accept Rome’s control, and pay Rome’s taxes.

I explored the length of Hadrian’s Wall on Midsummer’s Day in 2015. We had rain showers off and on all day, with brilliant sunshine in between. In spite of the sun, the day felt cold and damp, with a brisk wind. It was easy to imagine the poor Roman soldier, posted to this far-flung wilderness, at the edge of the empire.

Ïrom chesters — Wall remains at Chesters Fort

Our first stop along the wall was at Chester’s Fort. Here I was particularly impressed with the baths. Public baths were common throughout the Roman empire, and a sign of their advanced civilization. The baths had a warm room, a hot room, and cool room. Water for the baths was heated and and distributed to the proper area through a ‘hypocaust’ system, (underfloor heating).

bath at chester's fort — Changing room at the bath at Chesters

The next stop along the wall was Housesteads, an iconic Roman fort built high on a ridge with a commanding view of the entire valley below. Housesteads was one of the later forts built along the wall. One of the marvels here is the Roman ‘modern’ latrine with running water. In spite of this mark of civilization, Housesteads was still far from the center of the Empire. A rough, crime-filled frontier town (Vicum) grew up outside the fort. Here, for nearly three centuries, Romans and Britons mingled, traded, and squabled, with the Roman legion nearby to keep the peace.

latrine at housestead — Remains of the Roman latrine at Housesteads

Next we stopped at Birdoswald, which was occupied until the early 5th century. This area of the wall was originally built primarily of turf, though later sections were rebuilt in stone. The Roman soldiers here in the 3rd and 4th centuries were mostly from a regiment raised in what is now Romania, far east along the northern border of the vast Roman Empire.

The last place we visited along the wall was Lanercost Priory, built around 1169, centuries after the Romans had retreated. The place is significant partly because the builders used many stones from the abandoned wall to build this priory. Roman maker

game at lanercost — Game etched into reused Roman stone at Lanercost

marks, games, and inscriptions can be seen in the stones used to build the walls. In all those years since Rome dominated the area, Lanercost still stood in the borderlands between England and Scotland. The priory suffered many raids, as well as serving as a meeting place for King Edward III of England and King Robert Bruce of Scotland. By 1369, the priory was bankrupt. In the following centuries as the borders between England and Scotland shifted back and forth, the priory fell into ruin.

Hadrian’s Wall was one of several the Romans built to control their borders. It seems that no matter how great Rome became or how far their empire stretched, there was always trouble at the borders. Though impressive in the their remains, none of the great walls built by great empires have been entirely successful. The Berlin Wall was torn down after only 30 years. Enemy tribes invaded China from the north and took over the country. Hadrian’s wall, so far from the center of Rome, was abandoned and neglected as Rome’s power shrank.

stone and sheep — All that remains of a square tower at Birdoswald

Even more than protecting an empire’s interests, walls serve to separate people. But people do not always want to be separated from neighbors, family, friends, and business partners. In the end, walls will be breached, their stark ruins reminding us of the fallen empires who built them.

An Exploration of THE HOUSE OF SEVEN GABLES

What makes an old house spooky? You know, the house that children run past, holding their breath in a sort of delightful dread?

The house my kids called the witch’s house was a dingy, slate blue, with small, dark windows. It stood tall and square right at the edge of the sidewalk, looming as if ready to grab the unwary child. We never knew who, if anyone, lived in this house, but something about its aspect frightened all the neighborhood children.

For many spooky houses, it is the mysterious or odd inhabitants who ‘haunt’ the house and make it frightening. Witness Boo Radley’s house in To Kill a Mockingbird, so scary it could only be passed at a dead run.

Nathaniel Hawthorne explores this idea of the haunted house (‘haunted’ by fear, sadness, and tragedy, not by ghosts) in his novel, The House of Seven Gables (1851). Hawthorne describes the house thus: “Halfway down a by-street of one of our New England towns stands a rusty wooden house, with seven acutely peaked gables, facing towards various points of the compass, and a huge clustered chimney in the midst” (1). He goes on to say the house seems like a “human contenance, bearing the traces not merely of outward storm and sunshine, but expressive also of the long lapse of mortal life, and accompanying vicissitudes that have passed within” (1). The exterior of the house is decorated with figures ”conceived in the grotesqueness of a Gothic fancy” (7). Hawthorne continues with more vivid description stressing the house’s mysterious and unusual character. He says, “the second story, projecting far over the base and itself retiring beneath the third, threw a shadowy and thoughtful gloom into the lower rooms”(7).

The House of Seven Gables takes on the role of a character in the novel, based partly on its odd architecture and gloomy aspect and partly on the miserable inhabitants of the house. The two principal characters in the novel are Hepzibah and Clifford Pyncheon, sister and brother, descendents of the original owner of the house. Hepzibah is a lonely, bitter, old woman, made ugly by her sorrow. Clifford is a sensitive, unstable man, broken by the injustice of his incarceration for a murder he did not commit.

In some ways, the house itself is the cause of Clifford and Hepzibah’s misery, since, as Hawthorne explains, it was built by their ancestor under a curse. The old Colonel Pyncheon claimed the land occupied by the humble Matthew Maule. When Maule was executed as a witch (during the famous Salem witch trials), he cursed the Colonel for his part in the condemnation. Though the Pyncheons continued to occupy the house, from that moment on, the family was beset with tragedies and sorrows. The curse of the house carried on through the generations until landing on poor Hepzibah and Clifford.

Nathaniel Hawthorne is quite wordy in his writing (sentences of 50-60 words are common.) Most of the novel is taken up with long explanations of the tragedies of the house–that is the backstory or history of the house and its inhabitants, leading up to the current situation where Hepzibah is penniless and Clifford returns home from prison unable to cope with life. In many ways The House of Seven Gables serves as a series of character sketches. Hepzibah’s loyalty to her brother, her bitterness to the cruel world, her discomfort with outsiders, and her indecision in times of crisis show her as a real, flawed, human being. She, along with her brother, Clifford, haunt the reader’s memory as much as they haunt the old house that seems to be their refuge as well as their prison. And the house itself is a character that sparks the imagination and haunts my dreams.

The strength of the novel is not in its plot, but in its character descriptions and its thoughtful exploration of the human condition. In the end, Hawthorne addresses the question: Can there be redemption for these people wracked by ancient sorrows and cursed by their ancestor’s greed? Can light be brought into the gloom of a ill-fated house so that justice be served and happiness return?

In the fall, I visited Salem and went to the House of Seven Gables on Sale

Nathaniel Hawthorne’s birthplace, built in 1750

m Harbor. In his introduction to his novel, Hawthorne claims that no single house in Salem was the model for the house in his book. Nevertheless, this house on Turner Street is most often considered the inspiration for Hawthorne’s story. The original house here was built in 1668 by John Turner, a prominent merchant and ship-builder in Salem. Today, several other historic buildings have been moved to the site, including the housewhere Nathaniel Hawthorne was born in 1804, the Hooper-Hathaway House built in 1682, and a counting house from 1830.

I visited on a grey day, with intermittent rain showers spitting across the harbor. The House of Seven Gables is impressive, but I did not find it spooky. Perhaps it was the cheerful voices of the tourists, or the lush green gardens surrounding the house, or the bright fresh wood of new roof and repaired siding.

Or perhaps, like poor Hepzibah and Clifford, the house truly has made peace with the past and is ready to face the world.

Hawthorne, Nathaniel. (1998 reprint) The House of Seven Gables. Rhode Island: North Books.

Sugarplums and ‘Orring pills’

20181228_215210 Though the night when “visions of sugar plums danced” has passed, Christmas candy is still plentiful in my house. Christmas is a time of celebration, and celebration most often brings sweet treats. A little investigation shows that traditions of candy go way back.

It seems humans have always had a taste for sweet things. First honey, and later, sugar. Sugar from cane was first cultivated in India, and was kept as a closely guarded secret until Darius of Persia invaded in 510 BC and discovered the ‘reed that gives honey without bees’. Then in 642, Arabs invaded Persia and learned about sugar. As the Arab empire spread through Africa, the Middle East and Spain, so too did the growth and cultivation of sugar. Crusaders in the 11th century brought knowledge of sugar to Europe, where sugar was regarded as another exotic (and expensive) spice.

When Europeans invaded the New World, they discovered the climate in the Caribbean was very good for growing sugarcane. Even though there were over a hundred sugar refineries in Great Britain by 1750, sugar was still a luxury item partly because it was so highly taxed. (The Sugar Act of 1764 angered the Colonists so much that it was repealed in 1765, and contributed to the revolt against the Stamp Act of 1765.)

The earliest candies were comfits, which are seeds or nuts coated with layers of hardened sugar syrup. These first candies were medicines, prescribed by doctors or apothecaries to treat stomach troubles. (Perhaps this is why candy came to be associated with Christmas — after all, indigestion is common after a hearty Christmas dinner.)

Clement C. Moore’s famous poem strengthened the connection between Christmas and candy with his talk of sugarplums. I always thought sugar plums were candied or sugar-coated plums, but it turns out they aren’t plums at all. As early as 1608, a sugarplum was something sweet or agreeable in nature, not just something to eat. In the 17th through 19th century, sugarplums were small, flavored candies or comfits, (Some favorite fillings included cardamom, cinnamon, coriander, almonds, walnuts, and fennel.)

Making comfits was often the work of apothecaries since the layering process took time and skill, but colonial housewives made their share of sweet treats. One such treat is candied orange peel.

Like sugar, oranges originated in India, though oranges were known much earlier than sugar cane. By the 1st century, Chinese farmers were cultivating orange groves. Romans brought oranges to Europe around the same time. But these were all bitter oranges which are good for flavorings, marmalades, and perfumes. The sweet orange was brought by Portuguese traders from the Tamil Kingdom in India to Europe in the 16th century. They were quickly brought to the New World. As early as 1513. Ponce De Leon planted orange trees in Florida to help prevent scurvy among the sailors. In today’s world, oranges are one of the most popular fruits, second only to apples. However, in the 18th century, oranges had to be imported from the West Indies and so, like sugar, they were a luxury for most American colonists.

Many of the cookery books from the 18th century contain recipes for preserving fruit. One very popular way was candying, or boiling the fruit in a sugar syrup. In that way fruit could be enjoyed even in the winter when it was no longer in season.

John Townshend’s The Universal Cook Or Lady’s Complete Assistant (printed in London, 1773) has a fairly simple recipe for candied orange peels.

Having steep;d your orange peels as often as you shall judge convenient, in water, to take away the bitterness; then let them be gently dry’d and candy’d with syrup made of sugar. (261)

Martha Washington’s Booke of Cookery and Booke of Sweetmeats is older, with more erratic spelling. This manuscript hand-written in the 17th century and was in Martha Washington’s possession from 1749- 1799, and was transcribed and annotated by Karen Hess in 1981. This recipe provides a bit more direction.

To Candy Orring Pills

Take Civill orringes & pare them very thin, then cut them in little pieces, & lay them in faire water a day & a night, & shift them evening and morning, then boyle them, & shift them when the water is bitter into another water, & continew this till the water & boyling hath made them soft & yt theyr bitterness be gon. Then dreyne ye water from them, & make a thin sirrup, in which boyle them a pritty while. Then take them out & make another sirrup a little stronger, and boyle them a while int yt. then dreyne ye sirrup from them, & boyle another sirrup to candy height, in wch put them. Then take them out & lay them on plats on by one. When they are dry, turne them & then they are done. (284)

(Note: All of the early recipes I found for candying oranges used bitter (Seville) oranges. Since modern cooks mostly have sweet oranges, it is not necessary to boil the peels in as many water baths to remove the bitterness.)

A modern cook can use the simpler method for candying orange peels:

1 ½ c water
1 ⅓ c sugar
3 oranges

Score each orange in quarters, and remove the peel. Slice the peels ⅛ to ¼ inch wide.Bring to a boil and simmer these in clear water 10- 15 minutes. Drain and rinse. Mix water, sugar and the boiled orange peels. Simmer for 40-45 minutes, until the water is nearly gone, but before the sugar turns to hard crack stage.

Lay the peels on a flat surface to cool and dry before eating.

I can’t guarantee that candied orange peels will aid digestion, but they surely are a sweet treat for the New Year.

Sources:

Hess, Karen (transcriber and anotater). Martha Washington’s Booke of Cookery. New York: Columbia University Press, 1995.

Rupp, Rebecca. “What are Sugar Plums Anyway?” The Plate. National Geographic. December 23, 2014. https://www.nationalgeographic.com/people-and-culture/food/the-plate/2014/12/23/visions-of-sugarplums/

Townshend, John. The Universal Cook Or Lady’s Complete Assistant . London: S. Bladon, 1773)

‘Tis the Season–for Chocolate

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A sweet treat after sledding or a hot drink to warm up with on a chilly evening
Foil wrapped in balls or bells, a nearly ubiquitous stocking stuffer
Lauded as an aphrodisiac, a way to say “I love you,” or possibly cure smallpox
Historically, a form of currency and now 50 Billion dollar industry world-wide with some 50 million people employed globally

How does the humble cacao seed (also called cocoa beans or nuts) from a tropical evergreen tree, native to the Americas, become all this and more? It turns out chocolate has a very long history.

People have been drinking chocolate beverages for at least 4000 years. There is evidence that the pre-Olmecs, of Central Mexico (predecessors of the Olmec, and later, the Maya and Aztec peoples) had a fermented chocolate drink. The tree was possibly first domesticated in Central America. ( Although now ⅔ of all cocoa beans are grown in Africa.) The Mayans and the Aztec both revered the cacao bean as a gift from the god. A hot spiced, (and very bitter) beverage was used in rituals and to seal agreements. They also used the bean, considered more valuable than gold, as a form of currency. One hundred beans might buy one turkey. (The practice of payment in chocolate was also used during the American Revolution.)

When the Spanish ran into (and over) the Aztec, they learned about chocolate. In 1565, explorer Girolamo Benzoni wrote about his experiences in the new world. He was one of the first describe the spicy beverage called cacahuatl. He was not a big fan, saying, “It seemed more a drink for pigs than a drink for humanity. I was in this country for more than a year and never wanted to taste it, and whenever I passed a settlement, some Indian would offer me a drink of it and would be amazed when I would not accept, going away laughing. But then, as there was a shortage of wine. . . .”(as quoted in Theobald)

He did eventually try it and described the taste as “somewhat bitter” but conceded that “it satisfies and refreshes the body but does not inebriate.” (as quoted in Theobald).

In spite of the drink’s bitterness, the practice of drinking chocolate spread rapidly through the Spanish court. By 1585, Spain was importing chocolate. Chocolate beverages soon became popular throughout Europe. Europeans generally added some sugar to the drink. In order to melt the sugar, they generally served the chocolate hot. As Europeans spread out to colonize the Americas, they brought their newfound love of chocolate back with them.

By 1682 there were chocolate houses in Boston. In 1773, one ship alone brought in 320 tons of cocoa beans. (All of this cocoa was destined for beverages. Eating chocolate was not invented until 1847.) By the time of the Revolution, there were some 70 chocolate houses in the American Colonies.

This fall, I had the good fortune to discover Captain Jackson’s Historic Chocolate Shop, tucked away behind Old North Church in Boston. It’s named after a colonial merchant who owned a chocolate shop in the area in the 1740’s. Today, interpreters demonstrate the colonial process of turning cacao beans into a delicious and popular drink. The beans arrived in New England fermented and dried. The colonial chocolatiers roasted the beans in shallow pans. The brittle roasted beans were winnowed to separate the paper-thin shells from the chocolate nibs. (Some people, including Martha Washington, bought the shells and brewed a sort of tea from them (Theobald).)

The chocolate nibs (or broken up, roasted beans) are ground on a heated stone to a thick, dark, paste. Next, a variety of spices and flavorings are added. Each house had its own recipes, including combinations of vanilla, nutmeg, chili pepper, anise, annatto, salt, cinnamon, and orange or lemon peel. A bit of sugar might be added at this point also. The mixture is then allowed to dry in hard blocks.

To make the chocolate drink, the block of seasoned chocolate is grated and mixed with hot water. (By 1700, it might also be mixed with milk, brandy, port, or sherry.) The water and chocolate are whipped together to make a delicious, rich frothy drink.

Making Chocolate at Captain Jackson’s Historic Chocolate Shop

Because of its melting point, chocolate was not produced during the summer, and hot chocolate became associated with colder weather. As an expensive treat, chocolate also became associated with the holiday season.

By the 18th century, chocolate was sometimes shaved or grated into puddings, or made into candies for the wealthy. However, chocolate was much more common as a drink than a food until J. S. Fry and Sons developed the first chocolate bar in the middle of the 19th century. By this time, chocolate prices had dropped and nearly everyone could afford chocolate, at least once in a while. Now it’s hard to imagine a Christmas stocking without a few chocolate bells.

One reason for chocolate’s traditional popularity is that it was believed to have medicinal value. It was thought to aid longevity and digestion, alleviate coughs and lung ailments, and cure hangovers. Both Ben Franklin and Dr. Benjamin Rush even proposed chocolate as a cure for smallpox. (Theobald.) However, chocolate was not without its detractors. As a stimulant for the libido, chocolate was considered dangerous for women and children. (The same was true of novels and romances.)

I’m not sure anyone still considers chocolate dangerous (except to the waistline), but it retains is reputation as the food of lovers. Think of that as you’re indulging in your sweet chocolate treats this year, and enjoy.

20181128_213232 — Using research from Colonial Williamsburg, Mars Company has created a chocolate drink to reproduce the flavor of Colonial chocolate. Called American Heritage Chocolate, it is available from various museums and historic sites.

Sources:

Theobald, Mary Miley. A Cup of Hot Chocolate, S’good for What Ails Ya.
CW JOURNAL : WINTER 2012

Traverso, Amy. The History of Chocolate in New England. New England Travel Today. January 11, 2017

Behind the Circus Glamour: A reveiw of WATER FOR ELEPHANTS by Sara Gruen

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Who doesn’t dream of running away to join the circus? I know the thought has crossed my mind ever since I saw Disney’s Toby Tyler when I was five or six years ol. Sure, Toby had a few hardships, but everything turned out great in the end. He even got to ride the circus horse in the big show. Why couldn’t I do the same?

But real circuses, especially those of small, struggling outfits of the Depression Era, were not the romantically glamorous places of my dreams. In Water for Elephants, Sara Gruen recreates the real circus, with all of its sordid backstage drama, cruel practices, and realistic performers. She shows the precarious life of the roustabouts and lower ‘class circus workers, and goes beyond the shining surface glitter of circus life.

The book starts with a prologue and a mystery. The narrator (Jacob Jankowski) witnesses a murder. This tense, chaotic, opening scene shows a circus owner’s nightmare. The animals are loose and the crowd is on the verge of panic. Jacob tries in vain to stop the murderer. Readers are tantalized, left wondering who was murdered and why. The only clue is the murderer was female.

The action then shifts to more modern times. Jacob is now ninety (or ninety-three), stuck in a nursing home. He’s a cantankerous old man who never talks about his past. Until now, when a circus comes to town. The novel follows Jacob back into his past. Alternating between present day and seventy years earlier, we gradually learn Jacob’s story; how he came to be in the circus, and the terrible things that happened there. In many ways this is a love story; not just of a man and a woman, but also masterfully portraying the depth of love that can exist between humans and animals, even in the most dire circumstances.

In addition to a gripping story, with great characters, Sara Gruen’s book is marvelous historical fiction. Along with the glittering costumes, cotton candy and crowds of rubes, we experience the stink of the big cats, the clacking wheels of the circus train on the move, and the crumpled horse blanket that serves as Jacob’s bed. Woven into the story is a startling picture of a time when prejudice and abuse were common. Freaks were meant to be in the circus. Animals could be abused with impunity. And circus owners could get by with redlighting- the practice of throwing unwanted workers off the train when the circus no longer needed them — even when the victims died.

Most of us will never really run away to join a circus, certainly not the circus so vividly portrayed here. But Gruen brings those long ago days alive for readers, sweeping us into the Big Top of the past. She lets us dream, for a little while at least, that we could really be there, along with Kinko, August, Marlena, Big Al and all the others. And of course, Jacob Jankowski, who knows what it means to take care of an elephant.

Sharing Ground: The Boston Common

On a crisp fall day in 2018, Boston Common plays host to all sorts of people. Though the sky is overcast, tourists stroll along the winding paths pst the Frog Pond, Children play . and old men park on benches to read the newspaper. Along the north side of the park a musician strums his guitar, the open case in front of him inviting donations. In another corner, several dozen people gather for an ecumenical outdoor church service led by a woman with a microphone. In short, the oldest public park in America is the heart of Boston, providing a free, open, space for the people to use as they will, just as it has done for the last 384 years.

Amidst the modern bustle, it’s hard to believe all that has happened here in this space. The Common began as land held in common by the people of Boston, set aside for common usage, primarily for grazing the animals of the city inhabitants. This idea of common pasturage dates from at least the middle ages. The early inhabitants of Boston brought the practice with them from the old world. But such open land lent itself to other purposes, such as a place for the militia to gather and practice. In fact, The British used the Common for their military camp when they occupied the city in the years before the Revolution. On an even more gruesome note, a huge ancient elm located in the Common became the hanging tree, where miscreants were executed in public view. (In 1769 a gallows was erected, replacing the elm for public executions.)

Over the years, activities in the Common have evolved and the needs and character of the inhabitants has changed. In 1646, twelve years after the Common was established, public grazing was limited to 70 cows at a time. Richer families had acquired too many cows and the area was becoming overgrazed. Public grazing was banned altogether in 1830.

Just over a hundred years later, in 1756, the Central Burying Ground was established in what is now a shady spot along Boyleston St. The other three burying grounds in the city were overcrowded and this fourth burying ground was meant to alleviate the problem. In 1749, the first corpse was interred here, seven years before the area officially became a burying ground. From the start Central Burying Ground was not as popular, though some 5000 people are buried there. (There are only 487 tombstones.) Among the few famous people buried there lies Gilbert Stuart, the artist who painted the most famous pictures of George Washington. However, most of the people buried here lie in unmarked graves, mingled with the remains of countless other anonymous dead. The burying ground holds the remains of many French Catholic immigrants, British soldiers who died during the Revolution, and American Revolutionary soldiers from the Battle of Bunker Hill. Some of the victims of hanging (not everyone executed would be considered a criminal today; a law banning Quakers carried with it a death sentence for anyone violating the law.) were buried in here too.

The Common was used for other public gatherings besides hangings. In 1713, two hundred Boston citizens rioted here to protest a food shortage. The Boston Common has kept up the tradition as a place for public protest. In 1965 one hundred people protested the Vietman War and in 1969, one hundred thousand people took up the same cause.

Gatherings of a more peaceful nature have also taken place in the Common. Martin Luther King, Jr., Pope John Paul II, and Mikhail Gorbachev have all given speeches there, and many concerts, including one by Judy Garland, have brought thousands into the Common.

While it is true that many places on earth hold the memories of centuries of human activity, the Boston Common seems particularly steeped in history. You need only to sit quietly in the park, and close your eyes. In the mind’s eye, you can see the ghosts of all those who have crossed this common ground.

Making Mincemeat

20181027_222419 Ask a dozen people about mincemeat and you’ll like get one of two answers. Some will fondly remember how their mother or grandmother made mincemeat pies. Most of the rest will say, “Huh? What’s in that anyway? Does it really have meat in it?”

The answer is … complicated. Modern mincemeat is a spicy mixture of mostly apples and raisins. But if you go back a ways, mincemeat was indeed a pie made with chopped meat.

Some of the earliest recipes for mincemeat I have found date from the 14th century. These heavy, elegant pies were inspired by the Crusaders, bringing home ideas of new, exciting spices like cinnamon and nutmeg from the Middle East. It was common in the Middle East at that time to serve meat sweetened with fruits and spices. It became popular in England to recreate these exotic dishes, especially for elegant feasts meant to impress the neighbors in the holiday season.

These medieval mincemeat pies could be made from any type of meat, including mutton, veal, pork or venison. Some recipes even call for fish in a mince pie to serve on fish days when the church forbade eating meat. The mixture usually called for prunes, currants, raisins, and/or dates.

These pies were baked in a coffin, which is a thick, heavy crust, often rectangular shape. (Note: coffin comes from the French word for chest–like the modern word–coffer. The word ‘coffin’ was used to mean a pie crust from as early as the 14th century. The meaning of a box for burying a dead person came later, from 1520.) Meat pies in the Middle Ages were meant to be kept for months, with the thick crust helping to preserve the pie.

One more confusing note in the history of mincemeat is the word ‘meat.’ Although the earliest mincemeat pies did have chopped veal, pork, or other meat in them, the word ‘meat’ didn’t mean what it means today. Originally, in Old English, ‘meat’ meant food, any type of food. It wasn’t until the 13th century that the sense of the word narrowed to mean flesh meant for eating. Even as late at the 15th century, vegetables might be called ‘grene-meat.’ So the name mincemeat, could easily refer to all the chopped ingredients in a mincemeat pie.

Like meatloaf today, mincemeat over the years has had many variations, in the spices used, the type of fruit, and the crust. By the 18th century, crusts were flakier and apples and raisins were usually included in the recipe. It wasn’t until the late 19th and early 20th century that mincemeat lost the meat. As late as 1941, some mincemeat recipes still cared for meat (usually beef).

The real change came in 1898 when dried or canned mincemeat (such as Nonesuch) was developed. This mixture of apples, raisins and spices was one of America’s first convenience foods. As with many pre-packaged, prepared foods, people lost track of what exactly was in that jar or box of mincemeat.

Unfortunately, as popular tastes changed, pies were more commonly relegated to the dessert course. Homemade pies have given way to more store-bought desserts. Gradually, the taste for mincemeat has declined. Most people I talk to are leery of a sweet meat and fruit mixture.

But old-fashioned mincemeat is definitely worth trying. The recipe I’ve included here is from 1833. (Mrs. Child, The American Frugal Housewife. Dedicated to those who are not ashamed of economy). The modern version I developed makes 4-5 pies, but can be easily cut in half.

And if you still don’t want meat in your pie? That’s okay. You can omit the meat and make a spicy, apple and raisin pie –perfect for the Holiday season.

1833 Recipes: Mince Pies.

Boil a tender, nice piece of beef–any piece that is clear from sinews and gristle; boil it until it is perfectly tender. When it is cold, chop it very fine, and be very careful to get out every particle of bone and gristle. The suet is sweeter and better to boil half an hour or more in the liquor the beef has been boiled in; but few people do this. Pare, core, and chop the apples fine. If you use raisins, stone them. If you use currants, wash and dry them at the fire. Two pounds of beef, after it is chopped; three quarters of a pound of suet; one pound and a quarter of sugar, three pounds of apples; two pounds of currants, or raisins. Put in a gill of brandy; lemon-brandy is better, if you have any prepared. Make it quite moist with new cider. I should not think a quart would be too much; the more moist the better, if it does not spill out into the oven. A very little pepper. If you use corn meat, or tongue, for pies, it should be well soaked, and boiled very tender. If you use fresh beef, salt is necessary in the seasoning. One ounce of cinnamon, one ounce of cloves. Two nutmegs add to the pleasantness of the flavor; and a bit of sweet butter put upon the top of each pie, makes them rich; but these are not necessary. Baked three quarters of an hour. If your apples are rather sweet, grate in a whole lemon. (66)

Pie Crust.

To make pie crust for common use, a quarter of a pound of butter is enough for a half a pound of flour. Take out about a quarter part of the flour you intend to use, and lay it aside. Into the remainder of the flour rub butter thoroughly with your hands, until it is so short that a handful of it, clasped tight, will remain in a ball, without any tendency to fall in pieces. Then wet it with cold water, roll it out on a board, rub over the surface with flour, stick little lumps of butter all over it, sprinkle some flour over the butter, and roll the dough all up; flour the paste and flour the rolling pin; roll it lightly and quickly; flour it again; stick in bits of butter; do it up; flour the rolling pin, and roll it quickly and lightly; and so on, till you have used up your butter. Always roll away from you. Pie crust should be made as cold as possible, and set in a cool place; but be careful it does not freeze. Do not use more flour than you can help in sprinkling and rolling. The paste should not be rolled out more than three times; if rolled too much it will not be flaky. (69)

Child, Lydia Marie.The American Frugal Housewife. Dedicated to those who are not ashamed of economy. Boston, Carder, Hendee and Co. 1833.

Paste for Tarts
One pound of flour, three quarters of a pound of butter, mix up together and beat well with a rolling pin.

Glasse, Hannah. The Art of Cookery made Plain and Easy. Alexandria: Cottom and Stewart, 1805. 121.

Modern Recipes: Mincemeat for 4-5 pies

1 ¼ c. shortening (or suet)
21/2-3 lb beef roast (chuck roast is fine)
3 lbs apples (about 9 medium apples)
2 lbs. Raisins ( about 5 cups)
1 ¼ lbs. Sugar (about 2 ¾ c.)
½ c. brandy
¼ c. lemon juice
2 T. cinnamon
4 t. Cloves
1 T. nutmeg
1/4 t. Pepper
1 qt. Apple cider

Freeze the shortening, and dice while still frozen. Keep cold.

Cover beef with water, bring to a boil, then reduce heat and simmer for 30 minutes or until the meat tests 170 degrees. (The amount of cooking time will vary with the thickness of the beef. Let cool, then dice small. Be careful to remove all gristle, but leave in any hard fat (which is like suet.)

Peel, core and dice the apples.

Mix beef, apples, and shortening with the remaining ingredients. Fill unbaked pie shells (3-4 cups of filling per pie.) Cover with pie crust. Cut vent slits. Bake at 375 degrees for 45 to 55 minutes. Serve warm or cold.

Pie Crust: for 2 pies

4 c. flour (approx. ½ lb.)
1⅓ c. shortening (or butter)
1 t. salt
10 T. cold water

Mix the flour and salt. Rub or cut the shortening into the flour until it resembles coarse meal. Add water. Mix lightly. Gather the mixture into a ball and press solid. Cut into 4 pieces (two for the bottom crusts two for the top crusts.). Roll each out to a circle. The circles for the bottom crusts should be about an inch larger than your pie plate. Carefully place one circle in each pan. Add the filling, and cover with the top crust. It helps to wet the edge of the bottom crust before placing the top crust on the pie. Pince the edge all around to seal the pie.

Ducks and Green Space: Boston Public Garden

Since its debut in 1941, Robert McCloskey’s Make Way for Ducklings has delighted millions of readers, both young and old. In the story, Mrs. Mallard must navigate the busy streets of Boston to guide her eight ducklings to their new home in the Boston Public Garden. McCloskey won the Caldecott in 1941 for this book, which remains popular today. While not exactly historical fiction, the story evokes an earlier era, nearly eighty years ago, when the world had time to stop for kindness. One of my favorite illustrations in the book is the one of the portly policeman blowing his whistle and holding up his hand to halt traffic.

It is fitting that the Mallard family finds their new home in Boston Public Garden, a place even more historic than the book. The garden was built on reclaimed land: salt marshes filled in with gravel and dirt taken from a hill in the Beacon Hill area of Boston. In 1837, the land was set aside to become the first public botanical garden in the United States, under the planning and vision of Horace Gray. For many years, the city of Boston, the state of Massachusetts, and private developers argued over what should be done with the land. There were several attempts to build housing there. Finally, in 1859, the 24 acre plot was permanently designated as parkland.

The garden is full of statues, the most famous of which is George Washington Equestrian statue, designed and cast by Thomas Ball in 1869. The statue is sixteen feet tall, and rests on a pedestal that is another sixteen feel tall.

The Public Garden features a Victorian landscape design with meandering paths, shady trees, and colorful and exotic plantings. The pond with the small island where the Mallard family finds a home was completed in 1859. Curiously, the island was originally a peninsula, but was detached from the mainland because too many lovers found the soft gas lights and alluring space too tempting. Now countless ducks inhabit the island as part of long-standing tradition.

And so, as part of this tradition, the Mallard family settles on the island in the pond within the very first Public Garden. It seems both Mrs. Mallard and the good people of Boston recognize the value of green spaces, even in big cities. Mr. McCloskey’s timeless story serves as a pleasant reminder of everyone’s need for peaceful shelter in an oft chaotic world.

Designed by William G. Preston and completed in 1869, this bridge crosses the lagoon. Originally it was the shortest functioning suspension bridge in the United States until it was converted to a girder bridge in 1921.

The famous swan boats, featured in McCloskey’s book, have delighted visitors to the Public Garden since 1877. Though the boats had closed for the season when I visited, the swans (inaptly named Romeo and Juliet, thought both are femaie) floated gracefully atop the pond.

A Place in Time: The Lewis R. French

The Lewis R. French at anchor in Smith Cove.

Rain spattered the deck and canvas awning of the schooner. Kerosene lanterns hung fore and aft, their glowing circles of light spreading into the surrounding darkness. The wooden hull groaned and creaked, and the ship rocked gently on the tide, rubbing against the dock as if protesting the lines tethering her to shore. With such a lullaby, I fell asleep easily our first night on board the Lewis R. French, the oldest two masted schooner in the United States.

I woke to the smell of fresh baked muffins from the galley where the cook baked them from scratch on a wood stove. A heavy fog surrounded the ship as we hoisted the sails and eased out of Camden Harbor into Penobscot Bay. In spite of the fog, there was enough wind that we put a reef in the mainsail.

The Lewis R. French operates with a crew of four: Captain GarthWells, First mate Darcy, Jason the cook, and Mackenzie, the mess mate. These four can sail her fine by themselves, but often invite the passengers (21 of us) to help with setting and lowering the sails, reefing, or hauling up the anchor. Teamwork and helping out wherever needed makes for smooth sailing.

Out in the bay, the fog was even thicker. First mate Darcy sat at the bow with a hand-cranked fog horn. She blew a long and two shorts every few minutes as a signal to other boats. We passed another schooner, emerging from the mist like a ghost off the starboard bow. Occasionally the vague shape of a rocky island slid by, and we heard the muffled clang of a buoy’s bell, warning of reefs. Captain Garth used GPS to navigate, but in the fog it was easy to imagine a time when such luxuries were unknown.

In many ways, sailing the French now is like reenacting the past. The ship looks and handles much the same as she did in 1871 when she was first launched. For a hundred years, she worked along the Maine coast hauling many different kinds of cargo from fish to Christmas trees. In 1971, she was rebuilt to carry passengers on pleasure cruises. Here we see the real differences between past and present. Though they are tiny (there is barely enough room for one person to stand beside the bunk with the door closed), each cabin is a model of design ingenuity, using every nook and cranny for storage, and providing far more space than any sailor would ever have. Each cabin also boasts running water and electric lights, additional luxuries earlier sailors wouldn’t even dream of.

In 1992, the French was designated a National Historic Landmark. Though she is home-ported in one place, the French is unusual in that she is a moving landmark. In our four-day trip, we anchored in Smith Cove, off Burnt Island, and in Rockport Harbor before returning to Camden. As an historic landmark, the French is important not just because of where she is, but what she is: a 147-year-old schooner that still relies on human hands to raise and trim the sails. Even the anchor is raised manually with the aid of a windlass. She’s not just a place, but an experience. Sailing with only wind for power in fog, rain, or bright sunshine evokes a time-gone-by when life was slower. (Slower, but not easier. A sailor’s life was hard, cramped and cold, alternating between periods of intense activity and boredom.) We saw porpoises, seals, cormorants and eagles, just as sailors have done in these same waters for more than a hundred years.

On the last day of our cruise, we sailed into Rockport Harbor. The wind had died, and we tacked back and forth across the bay to ease closer in, moving at one knot or less instead of the four to five knots we’d sailed the day before. As we lowered the anchor, a sliver of blue sky spread out under the clouds. Gradually the clouds blew off, until by late afternoon, the sun shone in a clear blue sky. Patches of bright red and brilliant orange dotted the hillsides as the trees began showing their fall colors.

That night, as the French swung slowly on her anchor, rocking with the tide, we sat up on deck and saw the Milky Way splashed across a clear sky. With the waves lapping at the hull, and the stars twinkling overhead, I could almost hear the voices whispering from the past, tying this place now to the same place long ago.

Learn more at Lewis R. French Schooner website

Silhouetted against a mackerel sky, First mate Darcy climbs the rigging to set the main topsail.