Snowbound!

Another chilly and snowy weekend in Upstate New York: temperatures have been mostly below freezing, some mornings below 0 degrees Fahrenheit, for several weeks now, and following last week's foot of snow, we are expecting another foot or so over the next day and a half. When the temperature gets to be -3 or -4 Fahrenheit, it is difficult to breathe because the frigid air makes your chest hurt.

With weather like this, it is time for some serious comfort food. Last weekend I made bruine boonen soep (brown bean soup) from Grandma Vanden Bergh's old Dutch cookbook, and right now I have a big pot of kerrysoep van witte boonen (curry and white bean soup) "prutteling" in the stove. "Pruttelen" is indeed a Dutch word for "simmer," but Mom Anglicized it by adding an English suffix.  Both of these recipes are hearty, savory soups that I have prepared before.

Bruine boonen soep

Although we occasionally have milder winters in this part of the northeastern United States, temperatures below freezing are typical of this time of the year, and even temps below zero, from time to time: witness Joel Munsell's 1854 Annals of Albany, referencing winter temperatures in Albany in 1807:

Notes from the Newspapers: 1807

Feb. 9. The mercury in the thermometer, at sunrise, stood at 52 degrees below freezing point, or 20 degrees below zero, in the central part of the city. Seventeen years previous  the mercury fell four degrees lower in an exposed situation on the hill; but it was thought that this was the coldest day ever experienced in the city since correct notice of the weather had been taken. (Vol. 5, page 12)

The weather "app" on my tablet cites a record low of -3 F. for February 9 (in 1985) and a record low of -15 F. for February 10 (in 1994). Apparently, the records referenced by the weather app do not go back as far as the mid-19th century! In any case, I was snowbound last Monday, and may very well be so again tomorrow, since the forecast is for the current snowstorm to last through until Tuesday morning. Luckily, I'll have plenty of savory soup to keep me warm. It should be finished "prutteling" very shortly.

Kerrysoep van witte boonen

Turtle Soup!

I found an interesting recipe for Mock Turtle Soup in Grandma VandenBergh's old Dutch cookbook. I haven't tried this one out yet, but when I do, I'll post a photo:

Nagemaakte Schildpadsoep  (Mock Turtle Soup)

250 gr. (1/4 lb.) beef for soup (You can use ground beef, and roll it into small meatballs.)
1 liter (about 1 quart) beef bouillon
1/8 teaspoon ground cloves
1 bay leaf
a pinch of red pepper
1 onion
1 tablespoon minced parsley
1/2 cup grated carrot
30 grams (1/4 cup) flour
1/2 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
1/2 tablespoon soy sauce

- Add the seasonings to the bouillon and simmer.
- Fry the  onion in a bit of butter, with the flour, taking care that it does not turn too dark.
- Stir the bouillon into the butter and flour mixture and simmer for ten minutes with the meatballs.
- Season with the Worcestershire sauce and soy sauce.
- Remove the bay leaf before serving.


A copy of Volume 5 of Joel Munsell's Annals of Albany, published in 1854, recently came into my possession. There is an interesting anecdote about turtle soup recounted on pages 276-277. Munsell indicates that the source is "a newspaper scrap, on which there was nothing by which to identify the title of the paper from which it was cut."  Below is a slightly abridged version of the story:

"Turtle Soup in Olden Times":

The early history of the first attempt at tickling the palates of Albany eipcures with that delectable chaos of flavors, known as turtle soup, was made, we believe, by the celebrated Andrew Jackson Allen, better known as Dummy Allen [. . . ]. At the time we speak of, he kept a restaurant in the vicinity of the old Green Street Theater [ . . . ], and was a prime favorite among the bloods of the day, who made his place a customary resort. Albany was then, as now, a very nice village, but still, there were some things in Dummy Allen's cookery book not dreamed of in our philosophy. He therefore resolved to afford our ancient epicures a taste of bliss in a guise hitherto unknown to them, to wit: turtle soup. [ . . . ] For a few days before the acceptable time, a sizeable green turtle was allowed to promenade at the end of a long string, upon the sidewalk in front of Allen's establishment. In due time the repast came off, and proved a complete triumph of kitchen art. The new and delicious gift to appetite became the town talk, and showered upon the immortal Dummy vast reputation and much gold. 

Once more, and while the mouths of epicures were still watering with memories of recent bliss, the potent announcement was reiterated; once more a decent-looking turtle, very like the other, divulged his ample neck on Andrew Allen's premises, to the great admiration of beholders; once more fastidious palates enjoyed select morsels of Paradise from Allen's marvelous boilers. 

Turtle soup became all the rage, and week after week it was eagerly devoured. At length, some sharp and perhaps envious observers thought they remarked a striking similarity in all of Dummy Allen's turtles. One very suspicious individual, struck with their strong coincidence of aspect, quietly took the trouble of putting his sign manual on the back of one announced for that day's slaughter. The ill-fated criminal duly disappeared, and was commented upon that day, in the form of soup, as unusually excellent. But, amazement! when next week's customary announcement of turtle soup was made, [. . . ] that same turtle, the identical, supposed-to-be-slaughtered victim of the week before, bearing the deeply cut private mark of our suspicious friend, turned up, and resumed its sidewalk promenade, apparently in capital condition for a defunct animal. The secret was out. The game was up. Dummy Allen was done for. With a regular, cheap supply of calves' heads, and one specimen turtle, Allen had been doing the Albanian epicures for a whole season. At little or no expense and with the sole aid of their imaginative powers, he had regaled them with unheard-of delicacies, and at the same time put a golden lining in his pocket. 

Source: Annals of Albany, Volume 5. Joel Munsell, 1854. 

A Victorian Holiday Menu

My Christmas dinner this year was a simple and low-key affair. But after the gifts were unwrapped and the guests departed, I began to wonder how my ancestors may have celebrated the holiday along the Erie Canal years ago, and what they may have prepared and eaten.

Queen of the Household - Title Page

I found a sample Christmas dinner menu in Great-Grandma Nan's 1891 book of household hints, Queen of the Household:

- Clam or Oyster Soup
- Celery
- Baked Fish with Hollandaise Sauce
- Roast Turkey with Oyster Dressing
- Roast Duck with Onion Sauce

- Baked Potatoes and Sweet Potatoes
- Baked Squash
- Mashed Turnips
- Canned Corn (This was a surprise; presumably home-canned.)
- Stewed Tomatoes
- Graham Bread; Rolls
- Salmon or other Salad

- Plum Pudding
- Peach Pie
- Fruit and Nuts

- Coffee and Chocolate

Queen of the Household - Frontispiece

I don't know how many guests this elaborate menu was intended to serve, but I surmise that it must have taken a kitchen full of helpers to prepare and serve such a repast, with three different meat and fish dishes (no, four if you count the salmon salad!), two kinds of potatoes, four vegetables, and three desserts.

Our modern hosts and hostesses may typically simplify this menu to perhaps serve only the following: turkey with dressing, baked potatoes and sweet potatoes, squash or another favorite vegetable, dinner rolls, a green salad, and a pumpkin or mincemeat pie, followed by coffee or tea.

Perhaps next year, if I am ambitious, I'll try out the recipe for plum pudding as a surprise treat for my family:

Christmas Plum Pudding:

"Shred finely 3/4 pound beef suet, and add to it a pinch of salt, 1 1/2 pounds bread crumbs, 1/2 pound flour, 3/4 pound raisins, 3/4 pound currants, picked and dried, 2 ounces candied lemon and citron together, and 1/2 a large nutmeg; mix these thoroughly, then add 4 eggs and milk enough to moisten it, but not too much or the pudding will be heavy; tie in a pudding-cloth, well floured, and boil for 5 or 6 hours [!]; or, we think better when boiled in a mold, which should be well buttered before the mixture is put in.  The mold should not be quite full, and should be covered with 1 or 2 folds of paper, buttered and floured, and then with a floured pudding-cloth."

I find it curious that in five different recipes for "plum pudding," none of the recipes actually includes plums. They list other fruits, such as tart apples, raisins, currants, and citron. Some also include nutmeg, brandy or sherry, and as in the Christmas Plum Pudding, chopped beef suet.

As I wondered about why a "plum pudding" would not contain plums, I checked the definition of "plum" in my American Heritage Dictionary, and found a less-well-known meaning: "A raisin, when added to a pudding or cake." That answered my question about "why no plums in a plum pudding."

Rather than attempt such an elaborate dessert for my next holiday dinner, I might try a simpler recipe from Grandma Nan's cookbook: Poor Man's Pudding  --  "Take 1 quart milk, 6 eggs, 6 tablespoons flour, and a little salt; bake 1/2 hour; use butter and sugar dip." Or better yet - an instant chocolate pudding from the supermarket . . . !

Short Days, Long Nights

The shortest day of the year, the winter solstice, is only a week away. In a frenzy of consumerism, Americans are frantically shopping for gifts. I got ahead of the game this year, and mine are already wrapped and hidden away until the big day on Christmas.

But the Dutch and many Dutch-Americans have already had a fun- and goodie-filled celebration  --  Sinterklaasavond, or Saint Nicholas Eve.

As Saint Nicholas Eve (December 5) coincides with my birthday, my childhood memories of the day are a blurred combination of birthday cake, and wooden shoes filled with chocolates, nuts, and oranges.

Dutch Settlers Society Celebration:

This year, as for the past five years or so, I attended the annual Saint Nicholas Eve dinner of the Dutch Settlers Society of Albany. There was good food, music, and much gezelligheid (a Dutch word that connotes comfort, coziness, and camaraderie), a talk by Albany's Mayor about the city's rich history  --  and to top off the evening, the traditional visit by Saint Nicholas, or Sinterklaas, as he is known in Dutch.

Sweet Treats:

I also had an opportunity this week to attend a talk by Dutch food historian Peter Rose about the history and origin of Saint Nicholas lore, and the traditions connected with the celebration of this feast day, including the many recipes for tasty treats prepared for the fete.

If you have a sweet tooth like I do, you will want to try out such dainty delicacies as speculaas, most often known in the United States as "windmill cookies."

Family Mystery Solved:

Years ago, my Mom had a pair of bas-relief wooden carvings that we knew were of Dutch origin. I had a vague memory of these artifacts being displayed in the house I grew up in. And so it happened that my sister unearthed the pair, "hidden in plain sight," in the basement of the house.

The red-painted carved boards, about 13 inches by 4 1/2 inches, represent a quaintly dressed young man and woman. It was obvious to me that they were similar to the cookie boards representing Saint Nicholas and other Dutch symbols used to mold cookie dough around the holiday. But why a boy and girl? Was there a particular significance to the pair?

I learned during the talk that the paired figures are known as vrijers, or "lovers," based on the legend of the Saint's anonymous gift of dowries to three sisters whose father was too poor to provide them with the requisite sum. In this fashion, Saint Nicholas made it possible for the young women to marry.

How old are the pair of vrijers that turned up in the basement? I have  no idea, but I don't dare to try filling them with sticky cookie dough. They will, however, be a unique piece of holiday decoration this year, and a great conversation starter.

My shoes are waiting for Sinterklaas's visit!

"Guests Raved About Her Dinner!"

Spry Cookbook - Front cover

"What Shall I Cook Today?" is the title of yet another vintage cookbook that I found in the kitchen at the old homestead. This one is a collection of recipes using the brand of vegetable shortening Spry, which was available in grocery stores between the mid-1930s to the mid-1960s. According to the brightly colored drawings that decorate the booklet's covers, "Guests raved" about dinners prepared with this canned shortening.

Published by Lever Brothers Company in Cambridge, Massachusetts, the booklet is undated, but judging from the clothing styles depicted on its colorful front and back covers, I would date it either late 1940s or early 1950s. The book contains 124 "thrifty healthful tested recipes"  --  consistent (health and thrift) in appealing to homemakers returning to the hearth after working in factories and offices while their men were fighting in World War II; consistent also with post-WW II ideals of the feminine mystique.

Deep-fried Fritters

The section on deep frying begins with a recipe for Apple Fritters, reminiscent of either Grandma VandenBergh's or Grandma Minnie's recipe; this one describes dipping apple slices in a batter of flour, baking powder, salt, egg, milk, and of course frying them in Spry. These fritters are seasoned with sugar, cinnamon, and nutmeg.

A recipe for Corn Fritters fried in a similar fashion is described thus: "Make plenty  --  everyone will surely want seconds."

Other sections in the booklet include shallow frying, sauteing, cakes, frostings, cookies, and breads, but the longest section in the book is devoted to all sorts of pies and fruit tarts. There are both two-crust pies and one-crust pies. A sticky note on the page with the recipe for Blueberry Nectar Pie indicates that our Aunt Doris used this recipe to concoct the delicious blueberry pie that was always served at our traditional family dinner on Thanksgiving, made with berries harvested from Doris's blueberry bushes in the summer and frozen until the big day in November.

Mom also always made her own pie crust dough from scratch, cutting the shortening into the flour with a pastry blender or two knives as described in this booklet: "Do not handle dough anymore than necessary"  --  to keep it light and flaky.

Spry Cookbook - Back cover

The booklet include instructions for making a Spry Pastry Mix, so that the homemaker "can have oven-fresh pies at a moment's notice." The mixture contains one pound of Spry, two pounds of flour and one tablespoon of salt; it will keep in a covered container "for an indefinite length of time." This mixture is described as "The greatest 'shortcut' in the history of pie-making. Pie crust enough for a month  --  and all in a single mixing job!" (How many pies was the 1950's-era homemaker expected to make in a month?)

Today's busy homemaker has an even greater shortcut  --  ready-made pie crust from the dairy section of the local supermarket. I suspect that many more Thanksgiving pies are made by using this commercial dough than entirely from scratch. I confess that I used it myself to try out a recipe from this booklet:

"Eccles": When I saw this word at the bottom of a page, I had no idea what it meant. This type of pastry is described as, "Titbits [sic] from your left-over pastry":

"Roll pie crust thin and cut in small circles. Place a spoonful of mincemeat or jam or fruit in center. Wet edges. Place another circle on top and press edges together. Crease three marks across top, turn, and repeat. Bake in hot oven (425 F.) 10 to 15 minutes, or until golden brown."

I was curious about the origin of this pastry treat, as well as its name. It is apparently named after the English town where it originated, Eccles in Lancashire, where a baker named James Birch began selling small, flat, raisin-filled cakes in 1793. Birch's recipe was similar to one that was included in an earlier cookbook, by Elizabeth Raffald, "The Experienced English Housekeeper."

I baked a batch of Eccles cakes and shared them with friends. The pastries were filled variously with raspberry, blueberry, and mango jam. My friends didn't exactly rave about them, but they did have seconds. (At least, I did!)

Eccles Cakes  -- fresh from the oven

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Learn more about the origin of Eccles cakes at: http://www.salford.gov.uk/ecclescakes.htm

Two Dutch Soup Recipes

Once again, chilly temperatures have put me in a soup-making mood. I searched through Grandma VandenBergh's old Dutch cookbook and found two recipes to try out:

Cauliflower Soup   (Bloemkoolsoep)

1 L. water (about 1 qt.), in which cauliflower has been cooked, with pieces of cauliflower in it
40 gr. (1/4 cup) whole wheat flour
40 gr. (2 tablespoons) butter or margarine
1 egg, beaten

- Use the water in which the cauliflower has been cooked, leaving a few chunks of cauliflower in it.
- Bring the water to a boil.
- In the meantime, heat while stirring the butter with the flour to form a smooth paste ("een gladde massa" in Dutch)
- Stir the boiling water and cauliflower into the butter and flour paste and let simmer for 10 minutes.
- Beat the egg in a soup tureen and carefully stir the soup into this mixture.
- Garnish with croutons or serve with whole wheat toast.

My first experiment with this recipe entailed using an unusual variety of purple cauliflower that I came across in a local farmers' market:

Purple cauliflower

This soup turned out with a pleasant shade of pink, but somehow it didn't seem very appealing to me!

Purple cauliflower soup

But ordinary while cauliflower worked out just fine:

Cauliflower Soup

Leek Soup (Preisoep)

The ingredients and preparation of this soup are quite similar, except for the leeks, of course:

Chopped leeks

1 L. (about 1 qt.) water
7 1/2 gr. salt (1 1/2 teaspoons; I used only 1 teaspoon)
4 large or 6 small leeks
35 gr. (about 1/4 cup) flour
40 gr. (2 tablespoons) butter or margarine
2 teaspoons Arome Maggi or soy sauce
1 egg, beaten

- Chop the leeks into one-inch or half-inch pieces and cook in the salted water.
- In the meantime, melt the butter and stir in the flour, forming a paste.
- Slowly pour the liquid with the leeks into the flour and butter mixture, stirring to prevent lumps from forming.
- Let the soup simmer for about 10 more minutes until cooked through.
- In a soup tureen, beat the egg with the soy sauce.
- Stir in the liquid mixture and serve with croutons or toasted bread.

I altered the recipe a bit to add chunks of potato, to make it a bit more substantial. If you add a few bacon crumbles and consume it with whole wheat or rye toast, you'll have a whole meal:

Potato and leek soup

Eet smakelijk! Enjoy your meal.

K is for "Kabeljauw"

Grandma Vanden Bergh's Dutch cookbook contains a chapter of recipes on how to prepare a variety of fish. That's not surprising, since the Netherlands has always been a seafaring nation, and freshwater fish also abound in its rivers.

I have tried cooking codfish from my local supermarket, but it most often tastes bland and unappetizing. I decided to try out this 1920's recipe, and found it a tastier dish than the earlier attempts I made on my own:

Baked Codfish    (Gestoofde Kabeljauw)

2 codfish fillets (about 1 kg; 2 pounds)
60 grams butter (That is 1/4 lb. I used about half that amount - of margarine.)
1/2 lemon
salt to taste

- Clean the fish in the usual way, salt the fillets and place in an ovenproof dish.
- Pour about 1 cm. (1/2 inch) of water into the dish, into which a "Cube Maggi" is dissolved, if you wish. [If "Cube Maggi" is not available, use a vegetable-flavored bouillon cube.]
- Squeeze the juice of 1/4 of a lemon over the fish and dot with butter.
- Sprinkle with breadcrumbs; lay 2 slices of lemon over the fish.
- Bake at 350 F. (175 C.) covered for 20 minutes, then uncovered an additional 10 minutes.

I served the cod with potatoes and green beans, which made a balanced meal.

Baked codfish

Eet smakelijk!  --  Enjoy your meal.

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For another fish recipe from Grandma Vanden Bergh's cookbook, see the earlier post, "The Way of All Fish."