I was really sick with the flu last month and didn’t have much energy at all. When I finally could make it to the couch, I decided to finally figure out how to download Amazon Prime videos to my Kindle so I would have something to do.
It took like two seconds because all you have to do is click on the “watch” button but how was I to know it was that easy?
Anyway, I had always wanted to see the PBS series Downton Abbey because I love those Masterpiece Theatre English costume dramas. I’m still on the first season and wondering if Lady Mary is ever going to get around to saying yes to Matthew, the entitled heir to Downtown Abbey but I also love the busy kitchen and elegant dining room scenes—did you know that women were not allowed to serve food to the aristocrats, it was definitely a man’s job but we were allowed to cook it.
Those Edwardians knew how to eat and the book contains recipes for Edwardian Leg of Lamb, Lobster Pudding, Oyster Roll, Leek Pie, Downton Pheasant Casserole, Lemon Creme Soufflé, Raspberries in Sherry Sabayon Sauce, Stilton Chowder, Queen Victoria Rice Pudding and Downton Abbey Honey Cake. There was one for asparagus in a cider sauce that sounded very Southwest Michigan to me so I thought I would include it as well as another that seems so very British and of that time.
Asparagus in Cider Sauce
1 pound asparagus, trimmed if necessary
1 tablespoon butter
2 teaspoons flour
1 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon ground black pepper
1/8 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1/3 cup cider vinegar
2/3 cup heavy cream
1/4 teaspoon lemon juice
In a large saute pan, bring a few inches of water to a boil. Add the asparagus and cook 10 minutes or until tender, depending on the size. Drain the asparagus and set it aside. Discard the cooking liquid.
In a small saucepan, melt the butter over medium heat. Stir in the flour, salt, black pepper and nutmeg until well combined. This is what is referred to as a seasoned roux (thickener).
Whisk the cider vinegar and whipping cream into the saucepan and whisk until the sauce begins to simmer. Reduce the heat to low and cook 5 minutes.
Stir in the lemon juice. Place the asparagus on a serving platter. Drape the sauce over the asparagus and serve.
Downton Abbey Honey Cake
2 eggs, separated
½ cup sugar
½ cup vegetable oil
½ cup honey
1-1/2 tablespoons very strong black coffee (espresso is fine)
2 cups flour
1-1/4 teaspoon baking powder
½ teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
¼ teaspoon ground cardamom
¼ teaspoon ground cloves
1 tablespoon finely grated orange zest
¼ cup raisins
¼ cup minced dried apricots
¼ cup minced walnuts
Preheat oven to 350 F. Line bottom of 9 x 5 loaf pan with parchment paper.
In a mixer with a paddle attachment, beat egg yolks and sugar until light and pale and then beat in the oil, honey and strong black coffee.
In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, baking soda and all spices.
With the mixer on a low speed, gradually add the dry ingredients just until a batter forms.
In a medium bowl, whisk egg whites until peaks form. Fold one third of the egg whites into the batter and then fold the remaining whites into the batter along with the orange zest, raisins, dried apricots and walnuts.
Spoon the mixture into the prepared pan and even out.
Place the cake into the oven and bake 75 minutes or until the sides break away from the pan.
Remove cake from the oven and let cool in the pan 10 minutes.
Remove the cake from the pan and cool on a rack until ready to slice and serve.
Louisa May Alcott published Little Women, her bestselling novel about the four March sisters and how they overcame adversity, back in the late 1860s. The first printing—some 2000 books—sold out in two weeks and had never been out of print since. Translated into more than 50 languages, sales figures indicate that it is still the second most popular book among Japanese girls.
Jenne Bergstrom, co-author of The Little Women Cookbook
Women readers in particular like being whisked back 150 years ago to read about the girls as they mature into women, their father serving as a chaplain during the Civil War and the family mired in a genteel poverty–which is basically the kind where you don’t consider working because of your social standing, but really should.
Miko Osada co-author of The Little Women Cookbook
Both Jenne Bergstrom and Miko Osada love to eat, love to read, attended the same college (Oberlin) albeit nine years apart and work at the same library. Because they always wondered what the foods in the childhood books they read would taste like, they started the blog 36eggs. The name, they tell me, came about because they both pondered, when young, what the pound cake in the book Anne of Windy Poplars tasted like. The recipe called for 36 eggs.
“We actually had made Little Women recipes before,” says Bergstrom, in a joint phone call with Osada. “All the things in the book are what people would have eaten during that time. Having historically accurate food is almost a way to time travel.”
It was a division of labor undertaken with a huge deadline with the movie’s release. It didn’t help that the two still had full-time jobs. It meant researching and cooking all weekend long and having Friday night dinners to test what they made on friends.
“I’m kind of the researcher and Jenney’s more the chef,” says Osada. “As soon as we got the deal, I wrote down every single food that’s mentioned in the book and made a food and drink index. To make sure I had everything, I read the book twice. That added up to a lot of Excel sheets. I’d done this before for our Harry Potter book and the Anne of Green Gables books.”
Not surprisingly, many of the foods eaten 160 years ago were seasonal.
“They had great instructions such as gather cucumbers while there’s still dew on them and soak them in cold water,” says Bergstrom. “I think a lot of the preparations were simple and really did showcase the food such as yellow squash. We have a recipe in there that’s very simple and really brings out the flavor.”
Using seasonal as a guide when recipes were vague (as they tended to be in old cookbooks) helped in deciding what ingredients would have been use.
“Strawberries wouldn’t have been in season when Amy had her midsummer party,” says Osada. “But raspberries would have been so that’s what we used for the Elegant Raspberry Ice Cream recipe.”
If they could go back in time and eat any of those meals, which one?
“Amy and Laurie attend supper in a hotel in France and I enlisted the help of culinarian historians there about what they would have eaten,” says Bergstrom about chapter on Amy’s “Christmas Ball Supper in Nice.” “The food was very complicated with recipes saying takes as many truffles as you can and it meant making basic sauces that were the building blocks of other sauces, so we had to make sauces within sauces. It would be amazing to go to that hotel supper.”
The book is divided into chapters named after the characters and then sub-divided into their activities and events that included food. For Jo’s chapter we get recipes for “Mrs. Kirk’s Five O’Clock Dinner” and “Jo’s Standing Joke of a Dinner.” We celebrate “Amy’s Little Artistic Fete,” Laurie’s “Jolly Picnic Lunch at Camp Laurence” and the “March Family’s Happy Surprise Tea” and “Apple-Picking Holiday.” The cookbook is illustrated with delicate line drawings and photos of many of the dishes.
“Being nerd paid off, making lists and having these super specific hobbies,” says Osada. “When we were making all these dinners, we didn’t know there would be a huge blockbuster of a movie.”
The following recipes are courtesy of The Little Women Cookbook.
Boil the squash with the salt in a large pot of water until soft, 15 to 20 minutes.
Drain the water and mash the squash with 2 tablespoons of the butter.
Preheat the oven to 375°F and butter a heatproof dish that holds at least 2 quarts.
Whisk the milk and eggs together in a medium bowl and add to the squash.
Add 2 tablespoons of the sugar, ½ teaspoon nutmeg, 1 cup cracker crumbs, and more salt if needed.
Melt the remaining 1 tablespoon butter and mix in a small bowl with the remaining cracker crumbs, sugar, and nutmeg.
Put the squash in the prepared dish and sprinkle the top with the crumb mixture.
Bake until heated through and browned on top, 30 to 45 minutes. It should be puffed and slightly set in the middle.
Proper Roast Chicken
Makes 3 to 4 servings
1 whole roasting chicken, skin on, about 4 pounds
1½ teaspoons sea salt
2 teaspoons pepper, plus about 1 teaspoon more for the butter
6 tablespoons (¾ stick) butter, divided
⅓ cup flour, sifted
Drawn butter
Preheat the oven to 375°F.
Sprinkle the chicken all over, inside and out, with the salt and pepper, rubbing it into the skin.
Take 2 tablespoons of butter, coat it in about 1 teaspoon of pepper, and put it in the chicken cavity.
Dredge the chicken in the flour, shaking off any extra.
Melt the remaining 4 tablespoons butter. Use it to butter the roasting pan a little, then baste the chicken all over with a basting brush.
Place the chicken in the pan, breast-up, and put it in the oven.
Have the melted butter on hand. Every 20 minutes, take out the chicken, close the oven door, and baste the meat all over with melted butter. Return the chicken to the oven as quickly as possible.
Roast 20 minutes for every pound of chicken. Check the internal temperature after an hour of roasting by inserting a meat thermometer through the thickest part of the thigh, avoiding the bone, and check the temperature gauge after 10 seconds. The internal temperature of the thigh should be 165°F.
Let the chicken rest for 10 minutes while you make the drawn butter sauce.
Carve and serve.
Charlotte Russe
Makes 8 servings
For the ladyfingers (note you can also use store bought ladyfingers:
3 large eggs
⅔ cup white sugar
¼ teaspoon salt
1 cup flour
2 tablespoons cornstarch
powdered sugar, for dusting
For the Bavarian cream:
1 cup fruit purée (strawberry, raspberry, peach, anything you like—the more exotic, the better!)
¼ to 1 cup sugar (adjust depending on the sweetness of the fruit—only something very tart like passionfruit would need the full amount)
1 to 2 teaspoons lemon juice (optional; use this if your fruit isn’t very tart, or has a dull flavor)
1 (¼-ounce) envelope plain powdered gelatin
3 cups heavy whipping cream
For assembly:
fresh fruit, for garnishing
Prepare the ladyfingers:
Put about 2 inches of water in a medium saucepan and bring it to a boil.
Preheat the oven to 350°F. In a heatproof bowl (the bowl of your stand mixer is perfect if you’re using one), combine the eggs, sugar, and salt. Set in the top of the pan with the boiling water. The bottom of the bowl should not be in the water—if it is, take some water out, or make a ring of aluminum foil to boost it up.
Heat while stirring until the mixture is quite warm, but not bubbling, about 5 minutes.
Remove from heat and whip on high speed with the whisk attachment for 5 to 10 minutes until it is very
light and foamy yellow. It will nearly quadruple in volume and should hold soft peaks.
Meanwhile, line two sheet pans with parchment paper.
Sift the flour and cornstarch over the egg mixture, and gently fold it in with a spatula, only stirring until the flour is just combined.
Spoon the batter into a piping bag fitted with a ½-inch tip (or a sandwich bag with a corner cut off) and pipe 3-inch-long strips onto the baking sheets. They should be about 1 inch wide.
Sift a generous amount of powdered sugar over the piped batter.
Bake one pan at a time for 10 to 12 minutes, until puffed and set. Allow to cool on the baking sheets.
If you are making the ladyfingers ahead, store them in an airtight container so they don’t soften.
Prepare the Bavarian cream:
While the ladyfingers are cooling: In a small saucepan, combine the fruit purée and sugar to taste, and lemon juice if using. Add the gelatin and and heat until the gelatin is dissolved. Allow to cool.
Whip the cream to stiff peaks, then gently fold in the fruit purée.
Assemble the charlotte russe:
Lightly oil an 8- or 9-inch springform pan, then line the edges with the most attractive of the ladyfingers, bottom sides pointing in. Use the less attractive ones to line the bottom—you may have to break them up a bit to get good coverage.
Spoon half of the Bavarian cream into the pan, and smooth it out nicely.
Add another layer of ladyfingers, if you have some left. You can also add a layer of chopped fruit if it’s not too juicy.
Add the rest of the Bavarian cream, and smooth it out.
It’s not pleasant to imagine what the world might have been
like if Winston Churchill hadn’t been able to persuade his chef, Georgina
Landemare to leave the kitchen where she was making a pudding and head down to
the basement bomb shelter with him. The date was October 14, 1940 and the
Germans were doing one of their nightly blitzes over London. This time a lucky
strike by Luftwaffe bomb destroyed the kitchen—and most of the building–where
they had been standing just moments before. Fortunately, both Churchill and
Landemare survived.
Always a fan of Churchill and always interested in the history of food, I am delighted to have a copy of Churchill’s Cookbook, a release of Landemare’s 1958 cookbook originally published as “Recipes from No. 10.” Churchill, famed not only for leading Britain to victory during World War II but also for his love of a good cigar, fine spirits and great food, once said “It is well to remember that the stomach governs the world.”
Besides Landemare’s recipes–short, easy to make, mostly
French but with little in the way of detailed instructions—her book also has
vintage photographs from the 15 years she cooked for the Churchills. An
introduction by Phi Reed, director of the Churchill War Rooms which I visited
on my one and only and very short trip to London, also gives historical
perspective. The War Rooms are an underground warren of rooms that tunnel under
the city of London where Churchill and his cabinet would meet and some of the
work of the war would be done. “This is the room from which I will direct the
war” Churchill announced after being elected Prime Minister in 1940 and
visiting his underground office.
Photos courtesy of the Daily Mail.
The rooms are now a museum and houses some of the recipes
from this book. Landemare, who started life in the “service” at age 14 as a
scullery maid, was the widow of Paul Landemare, a distinguished French chef at
the famed Ritz Hotel and most likely learned to cook from him. She made
Churchill breakfast in the morning and stayed in his service until he finished
his last whiskey of the night (and one can assume there were plenty of whiskeys
in between). She was such a necessity that, as Reed writes in his introduction,
“Georgina Landemare’s importance to Churchill was nicely and neatly illustrated
on VE Day, when after giving his rousing speech to the massed crowds in
Whitehall, he made a point of turning to his faithful chef and thanking her
‘most cordially’, saying he could not have managed all the way through the war
without her.”
As an aside, here is a fun anecdote showcasing Churchill’s
sense of humor and his love of food.
Invited to a buffet luncheon while visiting the United
States, Winston Churchill asked for a second helping of fried chicken by saying
“May I have some breast” to which the hostess reportedly replied “Mr.
Churchill, in this country we ask for white meat or dark meat.” The Prime
Minister abjectly apologized and sent the hostess a beautiful orchid the next
morning along with a note reading “I would be most obliged if you would pin
this on your white meat.”
Winston Churchill’s Favorite Fruit Cake
10 ounces plain flour
8 ounces butter
6 ounces sugar
5 eggs
10 ounces mixed dried fruit
4 ounces glacé cherries (cut in half)
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
Pinch of salt
Cream the butter and sugar together. Beat in the eggs one at
a time, adding a little flour to prevent the mixture curdling.
Sift the remainder of the flour with the baking powder and
salt and add this to the creamed mixture. Add the dried fruit and beat the
mixture well.
Spoon into a greased and lined round cake tin.
Bake for 2 hours in a moderate oven.
Boodles Orange Fool
6 sponge cakes
4 oranges
2 lemons
¾ pint cream
Sugar to taste
Cut up sponge cake lengthwise in slices and place in glass
dish.
Put in a basin the grated rind of a lemon and 2 oranges and
the juice of all the fruit. Mix well with the cream and sugar to taste.
Pour all over the sponge cakes and allow to stand for six
hours before serving.
The above recipes are from “Churchill’s Cookbook.”
In a room where flickering flames highlight low beamed ceilings blackened with centuries of smoke and glass windows wavy from almost a millennium of time give views onto a cobblestone courtyard bordered by half-timbered buildings. I am at Maulbronn Monastery learning to make maultaschen, a centuries old dish that originated here. If I succeed, I’ll earn a coveted but very little known diploma in maultaschen making.
Built in 1147 and now a UNESCO World Heritage Site, the monastery was founded by Cistercians, a religious order of the Benedictines retreating from the world to establish a simpler life and find a balance between manual labor and prayers. Located in the village of Maulbronn in the Black Forest region of southwestern Germany, the monastery was a self-sufficient, fortified city within the boundaries of what was once the Duchy of Swabia. It’s all very charmingly Germanic, a storybook type place that has survived tumultuous times. Now Maulbronn Monastery, the best preserved medieval monastic complex north of the Alps, functions as a Protestant primary boarding school for both boys and girls. It’s most famous pupil is probably the author Hermann Hesse whose book Beneath the Wheel tells the story of a boy sent to a seminary in the village of Maulbronn.
The gates, once locking out the world, are open to visitors, the Romanesque cathedral offers services and tours and historic buildings house a restaurant, visitor center and shops. Frequent events include concerts, fairs, a farmer’s markets during warm weather and those famous Christmas markets they have in Germany. Besides that, this being Germany after all, there’s also Maulbronner Klosterbräu, a beer brewed according to an ancient recipe. Back then water wasn’t safe, so drinking beer, ale and wine started in the a.m. and continued on to night. Which may be one reason why the monks, who were given little food and often prayed for 16 hours straight in the Cathedral were able to do so.
Back in the day, all was lit by fire and in twilight I can almost sense the friendly ghosts of years past. This feel of what life was like a millennium or more ago includes making maultaschen, sometimes described as a German ravioli but so much more than that. Also, as an aside, if you think maultaschen is hard to pronounce, consider that in Swabian the term is Herrgotts-Bescheißerle, meaning “small God-cheaters.”
“It’s a dish created when two poor brothers were sent to the monastery because their father couldn’t afford to feed them,” our monastery guide, Barbara Gittinger, tells us as we roll out thin sheets of a shiny dough (note to those who don’t want to totally follow the ancient recipe—if you’re in Southwest Germany you can buy maultaschen dough at many of the markets; in the U.S., substitute egg roll wrappers instead) into perfect squares.
Seems one of the brothers took a delivery of meat during Lent. Not wanting it to go to waste, he chopped up the meat with vegetables and wrapped the mixture in dough. The idea was that God wouldn’t see the meat because of all the veggies and dough. Since that was centuries ago and they’ve been eating maultaschen ever since the subterfuge obviously worked.
But there are other stories about the dish’s origins as well including the one about the scandalous Countess of Tyrol who earned the nickname Maultasch, meaning vicious woman (they said worse too but we won’t go there) because of her political machinations and marriage to one man before divorcing her current husband. But you know, these things happen. Anyway, said to be amazingly beautiful, the Countess was also a culinary traveler and she supposedly brought the maultaschen recipe to Maulbronn from Tyrol in the Austrian Alps.
As I listen to the origins of maultaschen, I’m busy mincing Black Forest ham, one of several “forbidden” meats typically used to make the filling, mixing it with leeks, onions and dried bread soaked in water and then squeezed dry. Gittinger says that her family makes theirs with a type of beef mixture that sounds a lot like suet, blood sausage and vegetables such as spinach. Of course, maultaschen has gone modern and Gittinger says some substitute salmon for the meat.
I drop a tablespoonful of the mixture on the square of dough, fold it and pinch the seams tightly together (“so it doesn’t open up when cooking,” Gittinger tells me).
Originally, maultaschen would have simmered in a kettle of broth hanging over the open fire. Now, we use a gas stovetop hidden from sight.
Tasting maultaschen and schwäbischer kartoffelsalat (German potato salad), its traditional accompaniment, along with a glass of a dry red German wine) I reflect that the flavors must be different—the wheat milled for the flour to make the dough would be different from the wheat varieties we grow today. The same with the vegetables. But that’s not the case with the Black Forest ham, a variety of dry-cured smoked ham produced in this region since at least Renaissance times. Making and eating maultaschen at Maulbronn Monastery is a historic connection between past and present.
Oh, and I received my diploma. I’m officially a maultaschen maker now.
Swabian Maultaschen
2 2/3 cups flour (all-purpose)
1/2 teaspoons salt
2 large eggs
1 tablespoon oil
3 tablespoons water
½ pound Black Forest Ham, American ham or bacon (or a combination of all—you can also use hamburger meat), cooked and chopped
1/2 medium onion, chopped
1 clove garlic (chopped)
2 ounces day-old bread or rolls, soaked in water and then torn into small pieces
1 leek including the green stalk, chopped
2 ounces spinach, cooked and squeezed dry
1 large egg
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 pinch pepper (fresh, ground)
1 to 2 quarts broth (beef or other)
For the dough:
Mix flour with 1/2 teaspoon salt, 2 eggs, oil and just enough of the 3 tablespoons water to make a smooth dough.
Knead for 5 to 10 minutes, until satiny. Form dough into a ball, oil surface, wrap in plastic and let rest for at least 1 hour.
For the Filling:
Cook bacon and remove from pan. Sauté onions, garlic and leeks in bacon drippings, butter or a little vegetable oil until translucent.
Mix remaining filling ingredients together until well mixed.
For the Dumplings:
Roll out half of the dough to 1/8-inch thickness or thinner. You should have a sheet about 12 inches by 18 inches. (You also can use a noodle roller to make flat sheets with 1/5 of dough at a time.)
Score the dough with a knife, one time through lengthwise and five perpendicular cuts to make 1 dozen rectangles.
Place 1 tablespoon dough on each rectangle.
Fold rectangle over and pinch sides to close.
Repeat with the other half of dough.
Bring broth to a simmer and place 1/3 of the maultaschen in the broth. Cook for 15 to 20 minutes.
Remove and drain. Keep warm if not serving immediately. Repeat with the rest of the maultaschen.
Serve in a bowl with some broth. Serve with Schwäbischer Kartoffelsalat (recipe below).
Schwäbischer Kartoffelsalat
(Swabian Potato Salad)
3 pounds small Yukon gold potatoes of similar size, skins scrubbed and peels left on
1 medium yellow onion, chopped
1½ cups beef stock or bouillon
½ cup white vinegar
¾ tablespoon salt
¾ teaspoon freshly ground white pepper
1 teaspoon sugar
2 teaspoons mild German mustard (can use regular mustard)
⅓ cup vegetable oil
Fresh chopped chives for garnish
Boil the potatoes in their skins in lightly salted water until tender. Allow the potatoes to cool until you can handle them. Peel the potatoes and slice them into ¼ inch slices. Put the sliced potatoes in a large mixing bowl and set aside.
Add onions, beef broth, vinegar, salt, pepper, sugar, and mustard in a medium saucepan and bring to a boil. As soon as it boils, remove from heat and pour the mixture over the potatoes. Cover the bowl of potatoes and let sit for at least one hour.
After at least one hour, gently stir in the vegetable oil and season with salt and pepper to taste. If too much liquid remains, use a slotted spoon to serve. Serve garnished with fresh chopped chives. Serve warm.
