Fruity and refreshing, the term sherbet is often confused with sorbet, especially in the U.S. Although similar in look and taste, sorbet is an icy dessert that is purely fruit based (typically made from frozen juices), whereas sherbet is sorbet plus the addition of milk or cream as per the modern definition.

This cooling summertime favorite originated in the Middle East as sharab, the Arab term for a sweetened drink, and was initially defined as a cold, fruity, non-alcoholic beverage made from varying combinations of fruit juice, flowers, seeds, nuts, spices and sugar or honey, often chilled with snow. At some point in the late Middle ages, sharab evolved to describe a drink with alcohol, so the term sharabat emerged to denote the non-alcoholic version and began to make its way into European language vocabularies. The Turkish word s(h)erbet stems directly from this updated terminology. Since sherbet preparation could be time consuming and ingredients were not always readily available, confectioners made convenient syrups, pastes and tablets that kept indefinitely and were used to whip up sherbet drinks.
 
When fizzy drinks became all the rage in the 19thcentury due to the invention of effervescent bicarbonate of soda, these were added to sherbets. The sugary powder was also used to make fizzy candies, such as dabs and lollipops that were dipped into the packets of sherbet powder. During this timeframe, the term sherbet was also used interchangeably with “ades,” fruit juice with added sugar and water, especially when served ice cold like the frozen dessert we know today. This was a common way of serving juice – favorite flavors were apple, lemon, orange and strawberry. 
 
By the 1880s, sherbet recipes in the U.S. had begun to develop from a beverage to an icy, scoopable dessert. Cookbooks from the era featured flavors such as pineapple, strawberry, raspberry, currant, lemon and orange, often with the addition of gelatin or egg whites to give them a lighter, more creamy consistency than ices, although some used the terms sherbet, water ice, and fruit ice interchangeably. By the early 20th century, many recipes still incorporated gelatin or egg whites, but some started to substitute milk or cream to give sherbet a smoother texture, similar to the frozen treat we know today. For example, as per The Twentieth Century Book for the Progressive Baker, Hotel-Confectioner, Ornamenter and Ice Cream Maker (1913) by Fritz Ludwig Gienandt, “by adding a spoonful of heavy cream to the quart the quality of the sherbet may be greatly improved.”
 
The recipe for Lemon Sherbet I used was from my Great-Grandmother, Henrietta Ingram Finger Lawrence. This refreshing sweet-tart delicacy was whole-heartedly enjoyed by my grandmother, Catherine Lawrence Ellsworth when she was a girl in the early part of the 20thcentury and later, my mother, Mary Ellsworth Libourel and her five siblings in the 1940s and 50s. My aunt, Nancy Ellsworth Prince happened to be over while I was making it and gave her enthusiastic approval, saying it tasted exactly like her grandmother used to make. My Mom said the same thing when she tasted it. I am honored to carry on this tradition. I did make a few minor tweaks, as I used my ice cream maker. Feel free to try it as per the original method. I hope you enjoy it as much as we do!

The original recipe:
Grandmother Lawrence’s Lemon Sherbet
 
Serves 6-8
 
1 ½ cups sugar
1 quart milk 

Bring sugar and milk to a boil. Chill. Freeze stiff. Beat in chilled bowl. Add juice and rind of 2 lemons. Freeze in refrig.
​

And here’s my revised version:

Grandmother Lawrence’s Lemon Sherbet
 
Serves 6-8

• 1 ½ cups sugar
• 1 quart milk (I used 2%)
• Juice and zest of two lemons

 

1. Bring sugar and milk to a boil. Pour into glass bowl and chill in refrigerator for about an hour. 
2. Remove from fridge and add lemon juice and zest. Pour mixture into chilled bowl of an ice cream maker and mix until frozen. 
3. Transfer to a glass bowl and store in freezer until ready to serve. Scoop into dishes and garnish with a mint sprig if desired. 

Simple, light and elegant, sponge cake was the quintessential cake of the Victorian era, transformed into endless style and flavor combinations. Some were served plain, garnished simply with fruit, whipped cream or a sprinkling of confectioner’s sugar. Others took it up a notch by adding flavorings such as lemon or orange. The most elegant were delicate, two-layer cakes with a jam or cream filling and perhaps some icing drizzled on top. 

Cookbooks from the latter part of the nineteenth century contain pages of sponge cake recipes - Almond Sponge Cake, Hot Water Sponge Cake, Cream Sponge Cake, even Perfection Sponge Cake, which called for a whopping fourteen eggs. Then there were the many recipes that used sponge cake as a base, such as Boston Cream Pie, Charlotte Russe (individual dishes lined with sponge cake and topped with whipped cream), Strawberry Short Cake, and the luscious Victoria Sponge. This cake sandwiched Chantilly cream and jam between two fluffy golden cake layers. A favorite of Queen Victoria, it was supposedly introduced by the Duchess of Bedford (one of her ladies-in-waiting and the originator of afternoon tea) in the 1880s and quickly became a huge hit.

In the early part of the 19th century (before chemical leavenings such as baking powder and cream of tartar came on the scene), a sponge cake’s light, airy texture was achieved by beating eggs and sugar for a long time until they were thick, smooth and pale yellow. This “mechanical leavening” whipped air into the eggs to produce a mass of bubbles called a foam, allowing the cake to rise up nice and light due to the expansion of the air bubbles during baking. It was a long and tedious process that sometimes took hours - a task often delegated to servants.

But the Victorian age introduced many kitchen conveniences, including the invention of the rotary eggbeater around 1870 and chemical rising agents such as saleratus (an early form of baking soda), baking soda and baking powder. These newfangled gadgets and ingredients made the cook’s job easier, although many still preferred using eggs as a rising agent. In the words of cookbook author Belle De Graf, “a true sponge cake contains no baking powder but is lightened entirely by the air which has been beaten into the eggs.”

The following version is adapted from Lydia Morris's cookbook. Lydia and her brother John founded the beautiful site now known as the Morris Arboretum, located just outside Philadelphia. In her cookbook, Lydia attributes the source of the recipe to her Aunt Martha.

Here's the original: 
Martha Morris’ Recipe for Sponge Cake 
10 eggs, the weight of all in sugar, 5 flour, the juice & rind of 1 lemon. The sugar & flour to be mixed together. To be baked in a tolerably quick oven about 3⁄4 of an hour. 

And here's my adapted version:

Sponge Cake

• Grated peel and juice from one lemon*
• 2 ½ cups granulated sugar
• 10 eggs, separated
• Pinch of salt
• 3 1/3 cups sifted flour 

 

1. Bring all ingredients to room temperature. 
2. Remove top rack of oven and preheat to 325°F.
3. Grate lemon peel into sugar
4. Beat egg yolks slightly, then add sugar and lemon juice.
5. Beat egg whites and pinch of salt until stiff; fold into yolk mixture.
6. Add flour a little at a time, folding in gently. Pour batter into ungreased 10-inch tube pan. Bake at 325°F for one hour.
7. Remove from oven and stand cake upside down on the neck of a bottle until completely cooled.

*For a more subtle lemon flavor, reduce lemon juice to 1 tsp. ​

Taste this and other delectable tea-time treats adapted from Lydia's cookbook (including tea cakes, jumbles and Washington Cake) and learn all about the origins and social protocol of afternoon tea this Sunday. April 28 at the Morris Arboretum from 1-3 pm!

In any case, the recipes were no doubt helpful to the scores of housewives who needed alternatives for their traditional favorite baked goods. I decided to see for myself, giving Corn Flour and Buckwheat Biscuits a try. I assumed that they would be much heavier than traditional light and fluffy buttermilk-type biscuits made with white flour, and this was indeed the case. However, they were really not bad, just different – drier and harder in texture, suitable for dunking into soup, stew or chili. And with buckwheat and corn flour as ingredients, they align with today’s healthier “whole grain” diets. As I continue work on my next project, a book about The Jayne Building, the imposing ten-story granite structure funded by David Jayne’s patent medicines (and America’s first skyscraper!), I may blog about some more recipes from this cookbook, so stay tuned.
​
Here’s the recipe, with adaptations for today’s ingredients:
 
Corn Flour and Buckwheat Biscuits

• 1 1/3 cups corn flour*
• 1 ¼ cups buckwheat flour
• 6 tsp baking powder
• 1 tsp salt
• 3 tablespoons fat**
• 1 cup milk

 

1. Preheat oven to 375F. 
2. Sift flours, baking powder and salt together. 
3. Work in the fat well (if using butter, cut in with a pasty blender or two forks). Add milk and handle lightly. 
4. Roll or pat half an inch thick and cut with biscuit cutter. 
5. Bake for 15 minutes. Cool or a wire rack.

 
* If you can’t find corn flour in the store (Bob’s Red Mill brand is one to look for), then simply grind some cornmeal using a high-powered food processor or blender (I use the grind attachment that came with mine).

** I used butter although I realize during the war, cooks would have likely used lard or some other kind of animal fat.
            
Sources: The Oxford Companion to American Food and Drinked. by Andrew F. Smith; The Recipe Reader: Narratives - Contexts – Traditions by Janet Floyd and Laurel Forster

​Marble cake typically conjures up images of a beautifully swirled vanilla and chocolate cake, similar to the look of vanilla fudge ice cream. However, throughout most of the nineteenth century, the swirls in marble cake got their lovely chestnut color from molasses and rich spices such as nutmeg, cinnamon and cloves, not chocolate.
 
As I mentioned in a previous post, chocolate as a cake flavoring in America didn’t start appearing in cookbooks until the latter part of the nineteenth century. Prior to this, chocolate was consumed mainly as a beverage. In fact, the earliest recipes labeled “chocolate cake” were meant to be eaten with hot chocolate and actually contain no chocolate at all. In the late 1870s improvements in cocoa processing created a much smoother, more delicious tasting chocolate, which better translated to cake baking.
 
So when Anna Maxwell of the Ebenezer Maxwell Mansion began compiling a journal of recipes in the mid-nineteenth century, molasses was still the ingredient of choice for two-toned marble cakes. In fact, in addition to the marble cake, her journal has several other recipes featuring molasses, including gingerbread, gingersnaps, molasses cake and Dolly Varden cake (comprised of colorful multi-hued layers).
 
Molasses was an extremely important food ingredient in America’s early days. It first made its way to the colonies from the Caribbean as a by-product of the lucrative sugarcane industry. The British had began cultivating sugarcane in Barbados in the mid-1600s, and by the 1670s, there was a booming trade between Barbados and Rhode Island.  The New England colonists would receive sugar, molasses, cotton and rum in return for products such as pork, beef, butter and cider. Since it was less expensive than refined sugar, thick, gooey molasses became the sweetener of choice throughout much of America. The rich liquid was incorporated into many recipes and used to brew birch and molasses beer and distill rum. When the price of refined sugar dropped at the end of the nineteenth century, the role of molasses diminished. 
 
Not surprisingly, this is right around the time molasses and brown sugar in marble cake recipes began to be replaced by chocolate. For several years, both types of marble cake were often listed in cookbooks, but by the early twentieth century, chocolate had pretty much taken over, evolving into the extremely popular flavor that it is today. Either type of marble cake is excellent, but I highly recommend trying Anna’s version, especially in the fall or winter when heartier baked goods are appreciated. It would be a lovely addition to your Thanksgiving or holiday table! 

The original recipe from Anna’s diary:
 
MARBLE CAKE-Light part-Two cups of white sugar, one cup of butter, a half-cup of sweet milk, whites of four eggs, two and one-half teaspoons of baking powder, two cups of flour. Dark part-One cup of brown sugar, a half cup of molasses, one cup of butter, one-fourth of a cup of sour milk, half a teaspoon of soda, yolks of four eggs, flour to thicken, and flavor.

My adapted version (this recipe makes enough batter for two round cakes two loaf cakes, two dozen cupcakes or a Bundt cake):

Marble Cake
Light part:

• ​4 egg whites 
• 1 cup sugar
• 1 stick butter, softened
• ½ cup milk
• 1 ½ tsp baking powder
• 2 cups sifted cake flour

 
Dark part:

• 1 cup brown sugar
• ½ cup molasses
• 1 stick butter, softened
• ¼ cup sour cream
• 4 egg yolks
• 2 cups sifted cake flour
• ½ tsp baking soda 
• 1 tsp freshly grated nutmeg
• 1 tsp cinnamon
• ½ tsp allspice
• ¼ tsp cloves

1. Preheat oven to 350F. Butter pan(s) and dust with flour or line with parchment paper or cupcake papers. 
2. Beat egg whites until foamy, about 1-2 min. Set aside.
3. Beat butter until light, about 1 minute. Add sugar ¼ cup at a time, beating 20 to 30 seconds after each addition. Slowly add milk and eggs and mix well.
4. Add flour and baking powder a little at a time until thoroughly incorporated. Set aside.
5. In a separate bowl, beat brown sugar, molasses and butter together, then add sour cream and egg yolks. Mix well. Sift flour with spices and baking soda and slowly add to mixture.
6. Add light and dark batter to pan(s) in alternate intervals. When done, run a knife through the batter a few times to create a swirly pattern. 
7. Bake for 50-60 min if using a Bundt pan; 20-25 for cupcakes and 30 min for 8-in circular cake pans, or until a toothpick inserted into top comes out clean.
8. Cool on wire racks and ice with sugary glaze if desired (1 cup confectioners sugar, 3 tbsp cream and 1 tsp vanilla).

 
(Sources: Baking in America by Greg Patent; The Oxford Companion to American Food and Drink edited by Andrew F. Smith
 
​For more of Anna Maxwell's recipes, click here. ​

For dinner tonight I decided to make one of the first recipes I ever made when I moved out on my own – Turkey Pasta with Pesto. This dish was actually my introduction to pesto – and I’ve never turned back since! It’s a true flashback to the 90s, featured in Betty Crocker’s Eat and Lose Weight cookbook, copyright 1990. In any case, it fostered my love for pesto, which is now a mainstay in our house, especially when the basil in my herb garden is lush and fragrant in late summer.  And bonus – the kids love it too! Sometimes I make it in large batches and freeze it in ice cube trays. Then when I want a taste of summer during the cold winter months, I can add a cube or two to pasta, rice or smother over some grilled fish. Yum! 
 
Since I am always interested in the history of a particular dish or food, I had to find out some background on pesto’s origins. According to The Oxford Companion to Food, it is a specialty of the Italian province of Liguria, particularly its capital city, Genoa. In her Summer Cooking cookbook, Elizabeth David says “this famous sauce is eaten by the Genoese with all kinds of pasta, gnocchi and as a flavoring for soups.” Apparently the basil grown in Liguria is said to taste better than from any other location. I’d be willing to take a trip there to test that theory!  
 
Other than basil, pesto’s main ingredients are Parmesan or pecorino cheese, pine nuts, garlic and olive oil, but there are many variations, including subbing walnuts or almonds for the pine nuts and parsley for the basil. I have been known to play around with ingredients that I have on hand, ending up with all kinds of flavor combinations. Since Elizabeth David also mentions this in her book, I think it is ok!

This is an easy weeknight recipe, and would be just as good with other vegetables, such as broccoli or tomatoes.
 
Turkey Pasta with Pesto

• Pesto (recipe below)
• 2 cups uncooked rigatoni (or a similar shape – I used penne)
• 2 cups ¼-inch zucchini slices
• 1/3 cup chopped onion
• 1 medium carrot, cut into julienne strips
• 2 tsp olive oil
• 3 cups chopped turkey or chicken

 

1. Prepare pesto. Cook pasta, drain and set aside. 
2. Sauté vegetables in a nonstick skillet over med-high heat until zucchini is crisp-tender, about 3-4 min. 
3. Stir in turkey, heat until warmed through, about 3 min. 
4. Stir in pasta and pesto; toss until well mixed.

 
          Pesto

• 2 tbsp olive oil
• 1 tbsp plain yogurt
• 2 tsp lemon juice
• ¼ cup grated parmesan cheese
• 1 tbsp pine nuts
• 2-3 cloves garlic
• 1 cup firmly packed basil leaves

 

1. Place all ingredients in blender. 
2. Cover and blend on medium speed, stopping occasionally to scrape sides, until almost smooth, about 2 min. 

The picturesque banks of Philadelphia’s Schuylkill River teemed with the sights and sounds of a delicious feast. A group of men were busy performing their various assigned culinary tasks. In a huge cast iron pan, over a lively wood fire, several freshly caught perch were frying in fragrant butter. Plump beefsteaks sizzled on a nearby gridiron. Sweet-spicy pork was slowly roasting over an open fire. And on a table nearby, ingredients were being assembled for the evening’s pièce de résistance, a potent concoction they called Fish House punch: Aged mellow rum, cognac, pure spring water, fresh lemons, sugar and peach brandy. 
 
This day of feasting first took place in 1732, the inaugural year of the select “Colony in Schuylkill” club, the oldest social organization speaking the English language (apparently earlier London clubs were not formally organized). This exclusive men’s group was founded as a men’s fishing club by a few of the original Philadelphia settlers, many of whom immigrated with William Penn to the New World.

The small group's intent was to “spend an idyllic day every now and then dawdling on the banks of the Schuylkill River … shooting game birds and fishing and cooking their catch for dinner, with no wives or servants present.” Their first meeting house, which they called “the castle,” was built on the west side of the Schuylkill River when the area was still a wilderness. In 1781 the group was renamed the “State in Schuylkill” and for generations they fished in the city’s streams, then cooked and ate what they caught themselves, each one serving the other.
 
Also referred to as the “Schuylkill Fishing Company” or “Fish House Club,” members have always prepared their own food, and in the beginning devoted much time to hunting and fishing, enjoying the time spent outdoors and sticking to simple cooking techniques. For example, club rules stipulate that “high seasoning” should not be used when grilling steaks. Although city development, pollution, and overfishing have caused the club to move its location several times over the years, the citizens (as club members are called) still gather along the Schuylkill to feast on barbecued pork, grilled steaks, planked shad, and perch “thrown” in skillets, all prepared by club members and served with the group’s famous Fish House Punch, a potent rum-based brew.
 
Fish House Punch
 
To serve a crowd ~ 

• 2 cups lemon juice
• 6 oz. superfine granulated sugar
• 2 bottles Jamaican rum (750 ml each)
• 1 bottle brandy or cognac (750 ml)
• 1 cup peach brandy or ½ cup peach liqueur
• 8 oz club soda, chilled

 

1. One day in advance, combine sugar and lemon juice in a bowl. Stir until sugar is dissolved.
2. In a container with a lid, combine the sugar-lemon mixture, rum, brandy and peach brandy. Stir, cover and refrigerate.
3. When ready to serve, fill a punch bowl with ice, add club soda and stir gently. 

Enjoy with caution – this stuff is potent!
Some recipes include sliced frozen peaches, which is a lovely addition  ... my friends Heather and Sean Moran hosted us recently and served Fish House Punch this way and it was delicious!
 
Source: The Complete Bartender by Robyn M. Feller
 
Since you might want to enjoy this drink without having to make a huge amount, I thought I’d share this recipe for Small Batch Fish House Punch, courtesy of Modern Tiki:

• 1 1/2 oz dark Jamaican rum
• 3/4 oz cognac
• 1/2 oz apricot brandy
• 1 oz lemon juice
• 3/4 oz simple syrup
• 3-4 drops lemon oil (not extract)
• 1 oz water*

Combine all ingredients in a mixing glass and stir to combine. Serve over ice and garnish with a lemon wheel.
*You can also add ice to your mixing glass and stir to dilute the drink instead of simply adding water.
 
For further reading about Philadelphia’s early food scene, check out Mrs. Goodfellow: The Story of America’s First Cooking School.  

 Browse through any Victorian era cookbook and you will be rewarded with pages and pages of luscious cake recipes. Some names are familiar, such as Sponge Cake, Lemon Cake or Pound Cake, but many are no longer in common use - Election Cake, Queen Cake, Composition Cake, Taylor Cake and Black Cake (also known as plum cake). Several cakes were known by more than one name, such as Lady Cake  (also called Silver Cake or White Lady Cake). 
 
Lady Cake is a rich pound cake flavored with bitter almonds and rosewater, made snowy white by using only egg whites. In order not to waste the leftover egg yolks, “Gold or Golden” Cake was often made at the same time.  This rich yellow cake with a sunny hue was a similar cake made with egg yolks. Slices of these two cakes were often alternately placed in a silver cake basket for the tea table, the contrasting colors creating a pretty striped or checkerboard pattern.
 
According to nineteenth century cookbook writer Eliza Leslie, Lady Cake “must be flavored highly with bitter almonds; without them, sweet almonds have little or no taste, and are useless in lady cake." Bitter almonds (which are actually poisonous in large amounts) needed to be properly prepared prior to baking – the use of heat would safely extract their strong, bitter taste. This rather tedious process was done by blanching shelled bitter almonds in scalding water, and then placing them in a bowl of very cold water. They were then wiped dry and pounded (one at a time,) to a smooth paste in a clean marble mortar, along with a bit of rose water to improve the flavor and prevent them from becoming oily, heavy and dark. Miss Leslie suggests blanching and pounding the almonds the day before to achieve better flavor and a lighter color, thus enhancing both the taste and whiteness of the cake.  
 
The white color and delicate texture of Lady Cake was considered so exquisite and elegant that it was often used as a wedding cake in the nineteenth century, frosted with pure white icing and decorated with white flowers. As Leslie raved, "this cake is beautifully white, and (if the receipt is strictly followed) will be found delicious. If well made, and quite fresh, there is no cake better liked." Leslie's recipe is apparently for a large wedding-type cake since she stipulates using "the whites only of sixteen eggs, three quarters of a pound of sifted flour, half a pound of fresh butter and a pound of powdered white sugar." 
 
But many of the versions featured in cookbooks from the era were smaller-scale, calling for ingredients equal to half that amount. To make my modern-day version, I used historic recipes from Mrs. Crowen's American Lady's Cookery Book (1866) and an 1888 issue of Good Housekeeping magazine for reference, along with Greg Patent's wonderful Baking In America. I felt the most important thing regarding this cake was imparting the almond flavor. I wasn't sure how or if I could get bitter almonds, so I decided to blanch some almonds and crush them in the food processor along with some rose water as per a Patent's recipe. I also added some almond extract for extra almond flavor. This seemed to work fine. Another modern update I took advantage of was the use of cake flour instead of regular all-purpose flour. The lower protein content produced a finer-grained cake, and one that was whiter in color too, sticking with the pure white theme. 
 
Instead of icing it, I gave it a liberal sprinkling of confectioners sugar and paired it with a mix of fresh, local raspberries and strawberries for a pretty pop of color and some whipped cream for extra elegance. An authentic icing could be made using egg white, powdered sugar, and lemon or rose water for flavoring, as per Miss Leslie’s recipe.
 
1866 recipe from Mrs. Crowen's American Lady's Cookery Book:
WHITE LADY-CAKE..—Beat the whites of eight eggs to a high froth, add gradually a pound of white sugar finely ground, beat quarter of a pound of butter to a cream, add a teacup of sweet milk with a small teaspoonful of powdered volatile salts or saleratus dissolved in it; put the eggs to butter and milk, add as much sifted wheat flour as will make it as thick as pound-cake mixture, and a teaspoonful of orange-flower water or lemon extract then add quarter of a pound of shelled almonds, blanched and beaten to a paste with a little white of egg; beat the whole together until light and white; line a square tin pan with buttered paper,
Put in the mixture an inch deep, and bake half an in a quick oven. When done take it from the pan, when cold take the paper off, turn it upside down on the bottom of the pan and ice the side which was down; when the icing is nearly hard mark it in slices the width of a finger, and two inches and a half long.

Recipe from Good Housekeeping (courtesy of Catherine Owen)
Lady Cake.
Whites of six eggs, three cupfuls of flour, a cupful of butter (or half a cupful if a less rich cake is required), two cupfuls of sugar, about a cupful and a half of milk, two full teaspoonfuls of baking powder sifted into the flour. Beat butter and sugar to a cream, measure the milk but use only enough of it to make a stiff batter, sift in flour and add milk alternately; when quite smooth flavor with almond, vanilla, orange flower water, or the peel of a grated lemon, and a few drops of extract of rose, whichever may be preferred. Now slip in the whites of eggs beaten till they will not slip from the dish. If when the eggs are in, the cake is too stiff, as it most likely will be, add the rest of the milk. Bake in two pans in a good oven for forty-five minutes. If a large cake is desired bake in one pan an hour and a half.

And here's my modernized version. I took it to a friend's solstice party this weekend and all my taste testers loved it!
 
Lady Cake
 

• 2 sticks butter
• 1 1/2 cups sugar
• 3 cups cake flour (or 2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour)
• 2 tsp baking powder 
• ¼ tsp salt
• ½ cup unblanched almonds
• 2 tbsp rose water
• 1 tsp almond extract
• 1 cup milk

1. Butter a 10-inch Bundt pan, dust the inside with flour and set aside. 
2. Place the almonds in a bowl and cover with boiling water. Let stand for 15 to 20 minutes. When cool enough to handle, slip off the almond skins a few at a time and then pat dry. 
3. Put the almonds in the work bowl of a food processor and pulse a few times to coarsely chop. Add the rose water and pulse 4 or 5 more times. Scrape the bowl and continue pulsing until the mixture is a pasty texture. Add the almond extract and pulse to blend. (Alternatively, the almonds can be crushed with a mortar and pestle – pound 3 to 4 at a time along with a bit of the rose water to form a paste and then mix in the almond extract). 
4. Place the almonds in the cup of milk to steep.
5. Adjust the oven rack to the lower position and preheat to 350F.
6. Cream the butter until very fluffy. Slowly add the sugar, about ¼ cup at a time until the mixture is the texture of whipped cream. 
7. Beat the egg whites until stiff.
8. Sift the flour with the dry ingredients. Add a little to the butter mixture, and then add a little milk, making sure you hold a sieve over the mixing bowl to catch the almond paste. Continuing alternating in the way, ending with the flour (if using a mixer, make sure it is set to lowest speed). Scrape the batter down and then gently fold in the egg whites (best done by hand). 
9. Spoon mixture into Bundt pan and smooth the top. Bake for 50 to 60 minutes or until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. Cool on a wire rack for 20 minutes and then run a sharp knife around the edges to loosen and invert on a plate to cool completely. 
10. Sprinkle with confectioners sugar and serve with fresh fruit and/or whipped cream. Or to frost with an egg-white icing as Eliza Leslie used, take 3 oz fresh or pasteurized egg whites at room temperature, 1 pound of sifted confectioners sugar and ½ tsp lemon juice or 1 tablespoon rose water. Lightly whip the egg whites on medium speed until they form soft peaks, about 3 minutes. Lower the speed and gradually add the sugar a cup at a time. Add flavoring and beat on medium speed for 5 to 8 minutes or until the icing forms medium to stiff peaks. 

NOTE: This icing should be used within one day. For those leery of using egg whites, you can substitute ¼ meringue powder and ½ cup cold water for the fresh egg whites. 

Sources: Baking in America by Greg Patent; American Cookery by James Beard; Seventy-five receipts for pastry, cakes and sweetmeats by Eliza Leslie; Miss Leslie's New Cookery Book by Eliza Leslie; The Well-Decorated Cake by Toba Garrett; Savory Suppers and Fashionable Feasts by Susan Williams ​

Currently I’m working on a book about Delmonico’s with Max Tucci, focusing on his family’s experience with the iconic restaurant during the 20th century, particularly the impact of his dynamic grandfather, restaurateur Oscar Tucci. When doing some research, I was intrigued to see that bananas have actually factored into quite a few Delmonico dessert recipes over the years, such as Baked Alaska and Pain de banana Havanaise, both creations of another Delmonico chef, Charles Ranhofer. Found in Ranhofer’s epic cookbook The Epicurean, Pain de banana Havanaise is a fancy molded jelly, typical of the gelatin dishes that were fashionable in the 19th century. This stylish dish was again featured at a glamorous “Golden Era Dinner Ball” celebrating Delmonico’s 125th anniversary in 1959 hosted by Oscar.
 
I’d love to try to make this elegant dessert someday, but first need to find the type of specialty gelatin mold required. So for now, I’ll stick to the Delmonico banana ice cream recipe. The result was divinely rich and devoured by my taste testers! ​

Lemon is one of the most underrated flavors for sweets, often eclipsed by fan favorites chocolate and vanilla. On its own, lemon is sharp and acidic, but paired with sugar; it becomes a delightful sweet-tart combination. Cooks have been flavoring custards, puddings, and pies with lemons and other citrus fruits since medieval times. The acidic lemon was valued for both its flavor as well as its preservative effect, which made it a sought-after ingredient for many recipes. An expensive commodity, lemons would be preserved by drying or made into a liquid flavoring or essence like our baking extracts today.
 
In Colonial America, lemon was one of the most popular flavor ingredients. As a busy port city, Philadelphia received an abundance of tropical foods, including citrus fruits such as lemons and oranges from Portugal. In addition, several wealthy estates throughout the city featured hothouses that grew lemons and other fruit. One of the most famous was Lemon Hill, the country residence of Henry Pratt, Esq., which was located on the Schuylkill River, not far from the Fairmount water works. The site included over two hundred square feet of greenhouse and hothouse growing space, said to be “unrivaled in the Union.” In additional to rare and fragrant flowers and tropical plants, numerous fruit trees such as orange, banana, guava, cherimoya, plantain, and of course lemon, flourished there in the warm, humid environment. Merchant and banker Stephen Girard was another wealthy Philadelphian who was known to dabble in hothouse gardens. The small greenhouse on his country estate was stocked with lemons, mandarin oranges, and many other kinds of fruit.
 
As many cooks know, adding lemon to a recipe brings out the flavors of the other ingredients and makes everything taste fresher and brighter. Although sour by itself, when paired with butter, sugar, and eggs it results in a product that tastes tangy and pleasantly astringent. As noted by confectioner and restaurateur James Parkinson, American confectioners creatively used lemon to concoct a variety of delicious desserts, including the lemon pudding and ice cream on his Thousand Dollar Dinner menu. In fact, In the 1840s and 1850s, lemon was one of the most popular flavors of ice cream, along with vanilla, strawberry, and pineapple.
 
Lemon was also a beloved cookie flavoring, sometimes used interchangeably with rose-water or orange blossom water, such as Mrs. Goodfellow’s famous jumbles. When looking through the book of old family recipes lovingly made for me by my mom, I saw an intriguing lemon cookie recipe called “Mom’s Lemon Star Cookies” from her Grandmother Lawrence. According to my mom, her grandmother used to make them all the time. After giving them a try, I can see why! The recipe is simple, basically a sugar cookie recipe swapping lemon extract (or essence) for vanilla. Interestingly, I found the same exact recipe in a 1919 issue of Good Housekeeping. It's very likely this is where her grandmother saw it. That recipe says to ice them and scatter with chopped walnuts, but the recipe handed down in my family has no decorating suggestions. I decided to frost some of mine with the icing recipe below. I also simply sprinkled confectioners sugar on some of the cookies, which gave them a lovely speckled look.

My great-grandmother's recipe:
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 Mom’s Lemon Star Cookies

• 1 cup sugar
• ¾ cup butter, softened
• 3 eggs
• 3 ½ cups flour
• 3 tsp baking powder
• ½ tsp salt
• 1 tbsp lemon extract or flavoring

 

1. Preheat oven to 375F
2. Mix butter and sugar together until creamy.
3. Beat in the three eggs.
4. Sift dry ingredients together, and slowly add to wet ingredients.
5. Stir in lemon flavoring (and a half tsp of lemon zest for extra zing if desired).
6. Roll out and cut into star shapes. If not firm enough, refrigerate the dough first.
7. Decorate with icing recipe below, (and scatter with chopped walnuts if desired) or simply sprinkle with confectioners sugar

Icing

• 1 egg white
• 2 cups sifted confectioners’ sugar
• 1 Tsp. lemon juice
  
  

Beat ingredients at high speed until firm. It should be of a soft enough consistency to flow through a fine pastry tube. While mixing add a few more drops of lemon juice or a tablespoon water to obtain this consistency as needed.

Ginger cookie recipes were ubiquitous in Colonial America, a product of the melting pot of cultures that made their way to the New World. The texture and shape of the cookies varied depending on the region they originated. Some were sweetened with honey, others with brown sugar, molasses (also called treacle) and/or golden syrup (both by-products of the sugar refining process). According to food historian Will Weaver, those that used honey came from middle European countries (such as Germany), and those that were molasses-based originated in England or Scotland.  Some recipes resulted in a cookie that was crisp and snappy, others were softer and thicker.

Amelia Simmons’ American Cookery (1796) features six different gingerbread recipes, including those that call for ingredients popular at the time such as caraway seeds, nutmeg and rosewater, as well as a recipe for “honey cake” that requires a full ounce of ginger. Philadelphia’s Eliza Leslie included recipes for Gingerbread Nuts (similar to Mrs. Goodfellow’s Spice Nuts), Common Gingerbread, and the patriotic sounding Lafayette Gingerbread (named after Washington confidant Gen. Marquis de Lafayette), which was actually a rich cake containing five eggs, a pint of molasses and pearl-ash or saleratus. Precursors to our modern baking agents, these ingredients would have made the cake rise, particularly when combined with the molasses.
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The gingerbread recipe I like to make is the same one I used to make my yearly gingerbread house. It is Swedish in origin (from a friend of my aunt’s) – called PEPPARKAKS. In Scandinavia, spicy ginger cookies are often cut into star or heart shapes and decorated with icing, with names such as pepparkaka or peppernott. According to Alan Davidson in the Oxford Companion to Food, the literal translation is “pepper cake,” which refers to the “Pfefferlander,” the Far Eastern countries that were home to spices such as cinnamon, cloves, aniseed, nutmeg, cardamom and ginger. European bakers incorporated these flavorful spices into many of their baked goods. And some ginger or spice cookies do contain a pinch of black pepper to enhance the other spices. One thing I really like about this recipe is that no mixer is required, as the butter is melted with the brown sugar and molasses to mix it together, which is the “old method,” as per Davidson. Well, sometimes the old way really is the best. Enjoy!
 
PEPPARKAKS (Gingerbread)

• 1 cup brown sugar, firmly packed
• 1 cup molasses
• 1 cup butter
• 5 cups sifted flour
• 1 Tbsp. baking soda
• 1 Tbsp. cinnamon
• 1 Tbsp. ginger

1. Place brown sugar, molasses and butter in a large saucepan. Cook over medium heat, stirring frequently until well blended.
2. Sift together flour, baking soda, cinnamon and ginger. Stir into warm molasses mixture until well blended.
   While dough is still warm, remove about one quarter of the dough; knead by hand to shape into a fine grained ball.
   
3. Roll out on lightly floured surface to a rectangle about 1/8 inch thick. Use cookie cutters to cut out desired shapes.
   
4. Repeat with remaining dough until all pieces are cut out.
   
5. Place carefully on greased or parchment paper lined baking sheets.
   
6. Bake at 375 for about 8-10 min (will vary depending on size of cutters used)
7. Remove carefully to racks. Cool.
8. Decorate as desired with frosting (recipe follows).

Frosting

• 1 egg white
• 2 cups sifted confectioners’ sugar
• 1 Tsp. lemon juice
  Beat ingredients at high speed until firm. It should be of a soft enough consistency to flow through a fine pastry tube. While mixing add a few more drops of lemon juice or a tablespoon water to obtain this consistency as needed.

 
Sources: The Food Timeline (www.foodtimeline.org), The Christmas Cook by William Woys Weaver, The Oxford Companion to Food by Alan Davidson, I Hear America Cooking by Betty Fussell, Seventy-Five Receipts for Pastry, Cakes, and Sweetmeats by Eliza Leslie.