​A popular treat in America, ginger cookie recipes were a product of the melting pot of cultures that made their way to the New World. During the nineteenth century, Philadelphian Eliza Leslie included recipes for Gingerbread Nuts, Common Gingerbread, and the patriotic sounding Lafayette Gingerbread (named after Washington confidant Gen. Marquis de Lafayette) in her cookbooks. The ginger cookie recipe I'm sharing here was adapted from Abby Fisher’s cookbook, What Mrs. Fisher Knows About Old Southern Cooking. Published in 1881, is the oldest known cookbook written by a former enslaved person. Born in 1832, Abby grew up in plantation kitchens in South Carolina. There she honed her culinary skills and became a phenomenal cook, which catapulted her to success later in life. Gaining her freedom after the Civil War, she and her husband, Alexander, and 11 children migrated to California in 1877. Upon arriving in San Francisco, she used her talents to set up a preserves business along with her husband. She won a diploma at the Sacramento State Fair in 1879, its highest award, and two medals in 1880 at the San Francisco Mechanics’ Institute Fair. Her ginger cookie recipe is soft, yet crispy at the edges- true perfection and adored by children - perfect for family gatherings. 

Ginger Cookies
 
Original recipe (from What Mrs. Fisher Knows About Old Southern Cooking):
One teacup molasses, one-half teacup of sugar, one tablespoonful of butter, one tablespoonful for lard, one quart of flour, two tablespoonfuls of ginger, one teaspoon of cinnamon, one teaspoonful of allspice, two tablespoonfuls of yeast powder. Cream butter and sugar together and add molasses. Sift yeast powder and flour together and add to butter, sugar and molasses, then add lard and spices, etc., and work it up well. Roll out on a board and cut them out and bake like you would a biscuit.

​Sugar plums originated as small round or oval sweets made out of colored and boiled sugar, similar to what we think of as hard candy today. They resembled plums in size and shape (hence the name), and often had little wire stalks that could be used to hang them up. Related to comfits (sugar-coated seeds), sugar plums often had aniseed or caraway seed in the center. Both treats were considered sweetmeats, a term commonly used from Medieval times through the 19th century to describe any sweet food. 
​
By the Victorian period, the term sugar plum was used to describe almost any sweetmeat, including small plum-shaped confections made from a mixture of chopped dried fruits, nuts, powdered sugar and brandy (which served as a preservative). The recipe below calls for figs, dates and apricots, but you can use any combination of dried fruits -- the Victorians favored soft candied cherries and citron. ​

Ingredients:

• 2 cups finely chopped figs
• 2 cups finely chopped pitted dates
• 2 cups finely chopped apricots
• 2 cups chopped nuts
• 2 tablespoons brandy
• Powdered sugar 

 
Directions: 

1. Mix dried fruit, nuts and brandy together in a large bowl. 
2. Add enough powdered sugar to allow rolling into bite-sized balls. 
3. Roll in more powdered sugar and enjoy! 

Note:  Wrapping each ball in cellophane or colored foil and tying with a ribbon also makes a lovely Christmas tree decoration. 

​A Thanksgiving favorite, sweet potatoes are most commonly baked into a casserole for the holiday dinner table. But they can be taken up a notch to dessert status by being transformed into a delightful, custardy pie. They are actually a rather unique food in terms of pie fillings as they are one of the only vegetables regularly made into sweet pies (rhubarb is another; pumpkins and other squash are technically fruit). 
 
But in the 19th century, white potatoes were also a common pie filling. Philadelphia Quakers liked to make “Quarterly Meeting Pie,” a popular dessert served at their Quarterly Meeting dinners, which was actually a baked (white) potato pudding. Philadelphia pastry chef and cooking school instructor Mrs. Goodfellow referred to it as White Potato Pie. In this version, the potatoes are grated instead of mashed, then mixed with butter, sugar, eggs, brandy and flavorings. Another Goodfellow recipe for potato pudding calls for boiling the potatoes and then sifting them through a colander before mixing with the other ingredients to make the custardy pies. 
 
Mrs. Goodfellow’s recipes for sweet potato pie and pudding are almost identical, intimating that the tubers were probably used interchangeably depending on what was readily available. 
 
Her two recipes:
 
SWEET POTATO PIE.
Boil the potatoes and peel them; rub through a colander, and to every pint of potatoes take a cupful of rich cream, 4 eggs beaten separately. Cream a cup of butter and one of sugar together, add the yolks to the sugar and butter, and beat well. Then stir in the potatoes and beat again. Season with grated nutmeg and a wine glass of brandy. Gently stir in the beaten whites of the eggs. Line deep pie plates with puff paste, and fill with this mixture. Put into the range and bake. This must have no top crust. (Source: ‪Colonial Receipt Book: Celebrated Old Receipts Used a Century Ago by Mrs. Goodfellow's Cooking School)
 
SWEET POTATO PUDDING.
Contributed by Mrs. John H. Easby, Philadelphia, Pa.
Grate 3 or 4 good sized raw sweet potatoes. Lay some slices of good butter in a dish, on this sprinkle some of the grated potatoes, about one half. Grate in the potatoes a nutmeg and a very little cinnamon, and scatter over 2 large spoonfuls of brown sugar, then the rest of the potatoes, more butter and sugar and mix 1 wineglass of rosewater and a cup of cream together and 1 wineglass of wine and brandy mixed. Stir all these ingredients well together. Bake very slowly 2 hours and serve hot as a dessert. (Source: Famous old receipts: used a hundred years and more in the kitchens of the North and South, compiled by Jacqueline Harrison Smith)
 
The version I made is adapted from both recipes, and it is absolutely delicious. It has a fluffy, almost mousse-like texture as a result of beating the eggs separately, just as Mrs. Goodfellow used to do in order to make her products light and airy. I used another Goodfellow trick mentioned in these recipes – the addition of brandy. Back then liquor or wine was often added to a recipe to help preserve it from going bad in the days before refrigeration. It also adds flavor, but feel free to omit it if you’d like. Unlike her, I had the benefit of my modern-day food processor and stand mixer to make this recipe super easy. 

Sweet Potato Pie

• 1 ½ pounds sweet potatoes
• 3 large eggs, separated
• 2/3 cups sugar
• 1 tsp cinnamon
• ½ tsp freshly grated nutmeg 
• ½ cup milk
• 2 tbsp brandy 

 

1. Make and prebake your favorite pie crust. Place on a wire rack to cool. 
2. Boil the sweet potatoes until tender, about 30-40 minutes. Let cool and then scoop out the flesh into a large bowl and mash it up a bit.
3. Transfer to the large work bowl of a food processor. Add the egg yolks and remaining ingredients and process until smooth. 
4. Beat the egg whites until soft peaks form and then add to the other ingredients and process again until well incorporated.
5. Scoop into the prebaked pie shell and bake at 350F for 1 hour or until set. 
6. Cool on wire rack. 

Yield: One 9-inch pie, 8-10 servings

If it were not for the persistence of an enterprising Victorian woman, it might never have become a national U.S. holiday. By the 1850s, almost every state and territory celebrated Thanksgiving, but it wasn't until President Abraham Lincoln issued a proclamation in 1863 that it became a national holiday, the result of a seventeen-year campaign by Godey’s Lady’s Book editor Sarah Josepha Hale. She was able to convince Lincoln that a national Thanksgiving might help heal the nation after the devastating Civil War. At this time it was given the standard date of the last Thursday in November. ​

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.