Cookies, cakes and pies are the desserts most Americans associate with Christmas today, but back in the Victorian era, plum pudding was the highlight of the holiday feast. Even the poor Cratchit family in the Dickens’ classic A Christmas Carol had one on their holiday table.

We have the British to thank for bringing their love of puddings to America, particularly plum pudding, which can be traced back to the 15th century. It originated as plum pottage (sometimes called plum porridge), which was more liquidly, like a soup, and served at the beginning of a meal. Like most puddings of the time, it was meat-based, so the ingredients included chopped beef or mutton, onions and sometimes other root vegetables, as well as dried fruit, breadcrumbs as a thickener, and copious amounts of wine, herbs and spices for flavor.

This rich dish was a favorite for feast days such as All Saints Day, Christmas and New Years Day, but it wasn’t until the 1600s when it became specifically associated with Christmas, and began to be referred to as the more luxurious sounding plum pudding or even Christmas pudding. Around this time it also evolved into the larger, more solid consistency of a “boiled pudding” due to the creation of the pudding-cloth. The ingredients would be mixed together, then tied up into a tidy bundle inside the cloth and boiled in a kettle over an open fire. Sometimes the pudding was even cooked directly over a simmering stew.

So where are the plums in the ingredient list? Well, ironically, there aren’t actually any plums in plum pudding. The name comes from the use of dried plums (prunes), which were commonly used in medieval times. Later, when other dried fruits such as raisins were introduced into England, these were substituted or added, but the “plum pudding” name stuck. Over the years, the meat was replaced by suet (the protective fat around the kidneys of beef or mutton) and the vegetables were gradually phased out, although some cooks still include a token carrot in their version.

By the time of the Victorian era, plum pudding had evolved into a sumptuous dessert with a more varied ingredient list. Suet, dried fruit (typically raisins, sultanas and currants) and spices such as cinnamon, nutmeg and cloves were mainstays, but any combination of nuts, lemon or orange peel, chopped apple, flour, eggs, sugar, milk and liquor were also commonly added. The Godey’s Lady’s Book of Receipts and Household Hints by Sarah Annie Frost (1870) lists nine different versions of plum pudding, with interesting titles and ingredient combinations such as Soyer’s New Christmas pudding (with powdered white sugar, candied citron and blanched bitter almonds), Barbara’s plum pudding (includes apples and molasses), Rich plum pudding without flour (uses breadcrumbs instead, as well as eight or nine eggs and brandy), and Unrivalled plum pudding (incorporates an incredible two pounds each of suet, breadcrumbs and sugar, two and a half pounds of raisins and 16 eggs). A sauce made from rum or brandy butter (sometimes called hard sauce) added right before serving also became customary.

I decided to make a recipe from the journal of Anna Maxwell of Philadelphia's historic Ebenezer Maxwell Mansion labeled as “The orthodox English recipe:”
One pound of raisins, half a pound of currants, half a pound of sugar, half a pound of flour, half a pound of bread crumbs, three-quarters of a pound of suet, a quarter of a pound of mixed candied peel, a small nutmeg, grated, a teaspoonful of ground cinnamon, ditto of pudding spice; the juice of one lemon and one peel grated, one orange ditto, six bitter almonds blanched and pounded, and a pinch of salt; mix the day or even longer before the pudding is needed, with six well-beaten eggs, a glass of cider or milk to moisten it, and boil for ten hours.

My adapted version ~
Plum Pudding

Makes one large (Bundt pan-sized) pudding or two smaller ones, serving 15-20 people
 

• 2 ¾ cups raisins

• 1 ½ cups dried currants
• 1 cup sugar
• 1 ¾ cups flour
• 1 ¾ cups bread crumbs (preferably from egg bread such as Challah or French brioche)
• 1 ½ cups suet (or lard)
• ½ cup chopped candied ginger
• Pinch of salt
• ½ cup chopped dried pineapple
• 1 small nutmeg, grated
• Juice of one orange and one peel, grated
• 1 teaspoon allspice
• 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
• Juice of one lemon and one peel, grated
• 6 eggs, well-beaten
• ½ cup chopped almonds
• 1 cup of cider, milk or brandy

1. Mix together all the ingredients in a large bowl. Cover with plastic wrap and place in refrigerator overnight.
2. The next day, stir batter again to make sure ingredients are well mixed.
3. Coat a tin mold or Bundt pan with cooking spray and line with parchment paper. Pour mixture into pan and cover with foil. Add some water to cover the bottom of a crock-pot, place the pan inside and close the lid. Steam the pudding for 4-5 hours on high, then take it out and let it cool for an hour on a wire rack.
4. When cool, loosen the edges and carefully turn out onto a plate.

 
Just before serving make a hard sauce:
 
Anna’s version: Mix the 2 teaspoons cornstarch with 2 tablespoons water until smooth, then whisk in 2 egg yolks. Dissolve ¼ cup sugar in 1 cup milk, heat to boiling, then add the egg yolks and cornstarch. Stir over low heat until it has the thickness of cream; then take off the burner and mix in 1 tablespoon fruit jelly and a pinch grated nutmeg. Pour over the pudding and then cut in slices to serve.
 
OR
 
“Traditional” hard sauce from White House Cook Book (1889) by Fanny Lemira Gillette:
Stir a heaping teaspoonful of corn-starch in a little cold water to a smooth paste (or instead use a tablespoonful of sifted flour); add to it a cupful of boiling water, with one cupful of sugar, a piece of butter as large as an egg, boil all together ten minutes. Remove from the fire, and when cool, stir into it half of a cupful of brandy or wine. It should be about as thick as thin syrup.

While baking, the pudding will give off rich aromas – savory (almost a bacon smell) from the suet or lard, mixed with the spicy scent of the nutmeg, cinnamon and cloves. The verdict from my taste testers: delicious! Everyone loved the flavors and commented that it was similar to a fruitcake but more delicious and moist. Give it a try and resurrect a Victorian holiday tradition! 

Sources: The Oxford Companion to American Food and Drink Ed. by Andrew F. Smith; The Oxford Companion to Food by Alan Davidson; The Book of Christmas: Descriptive of the Customs, Ceremonies, Traditions By Thomas Kibble Hervey; Godey’s Lady’s Book Receipts and Household Hints; The Victorian Christmas by Anna Selby; China Bayles’ Book of Days by Susan Wittig Albert; Victorian Christmas by Bobbie Kalman and Barbara Bedell; A Sweet Taste of History by Walter Staib

If it were not for the persistence of an enterprising Victorian woman, Thanksgiving might never have become a national U.S. holiday. Days celebrating giving thanks, or "thanksgiving" were common in many colonial American communities throughout the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. They were typically declared by ministers or governors in response to specific occasions, such as a military victory, a plentiful harvest, or beneficial rainfall, but no specific “Thanksgiving Day” was celebrated on a yearly basis.

In 1841, Rev. Alexander Young published Chronicles of the Pilgrim Fathers, detailing the relationship between Pilgrims and Thanksgiving. In the book, Young included a copy of a letter dated December 11, 1621 from Edward Winslow, one of the Plymouth colony leaders, describing a three-day feast enjoyed by the colonists and a large group of Native American guests held after the crops were harvested.

By the 1850s, almost every state and territory celebrated Thanksgiving, but it didn’t become a national holiday until President Abraham Lincoln issued a proclamation in 1863, the result of a seventeen-year campaign by Godey’s Lady’s Book editor Sarah Josepha Hale. She was able to convince President Lincoln that a national Thanksgiving might help heal the nation after the devastating Civil War. Soon after, with the Victorian era and all its opulence, Thanksgiving dinner became the one of the most carefully planned menus of the year for most families, with roast turkey the main feature. 

Preparations for this highly anticipated meal were done well in advance. Homes were colorfully decorated with seasonal autumn leaves, chrysanthemums, asters, palms, ferns, dried grasses and grains. Mince pies and plum pudding were baked at least a week or two ahead. The dinner table was set with pretty china dishes, crystal glasses and silver flatware. Tapered candles illuminated the dining room with a soft, mellow glow, and fireplaces blazed with a cozy light. Children often had their own attractively set table adored with brightly colored flowers, fruit and candy.
​
Oyster soup or consommé started the meal, and then came the roast turkey along with boiled onions, squash, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, cranberry sauce or jelly, pickles, catsup, celery and apple sauce. Sherbet was served after the turkey to cleanse the palate and make room for chicken pie or another rich savory dish such as quail or roast duck. Desserts included treats such as pumpkin pie, sponge cake, cranberry tart, Thanksgiving (plum) pudding, fruits, nuts and ice cream. After enjoying all these delicious foods, guests would typically top off this festive dinner by retiring to the parlor to sip coffee and liquors. ​Some "food for thought" as you are celebrating the holiday this year. Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

(Excerpt from The Thousand Dollar Dinner by Becky Diamond) 

A Thanksgiving staple, turkey is one of the most quintessential American foods. In fact, a whopping 45 million turkeys will be enjoyed on Thursday, according to a recent Time magazine estimate. If you ask most cooks how they will prepare their turkey, they will almost certainly say roasted, or maybe grilled or even the recent fad of using a deep fat-fryer. But did you know that boiling a turkey used to be the preferred way to serve it?
 
​In the nineteenth century, turkey was often featured as an elegant and fashionable selection on the “boiled dishes” course at fancy multi-course dinners—sometimes alongside ham, beef tongue, or other types of poultry. It was typically served after the fish and before the roasts and entrees because these moister cuts were considered less filling, and quicker and easier to digest. This theory was shared by French, English, and Italian cooks, and eventually made its way to multicourse American dinners as well.

Understandably, some thought that most of the flavor boiled away during the cooking process, making it taste rather plain. To counteract the blandness, cooks would serve the turkey alongside a tasty accompaniment, such as the celery and oyster sauce James Parkinson featured at his 1851 “Top Chef” cook-off known as the Thousand Dollar Dinner. Some chefs insisted stuffing the turkey was a necessary step in boiling a turkey, probably because it kept the meat tender and added flavor. Lucky for us, boiled turkey gradually began to lose favor throughout the later part of the nineteenth century, eventually eclipsed by other preparations, most notably the roasting and braising methods we know and love today.
 
How will you prepare your turkey this year? Do you have a tried and true method you use every Thanksgiving, or will you try something new? I’d love to hear about it -  please feel free to post your comments! 

​Bite into a macaroon and you are greeted with a delightful contrast of textures - crunchy on the outside and chewy on the inside. This popular confection has had several iterations throughout its history. When first introduced, macaroons were made using very finely chopped almonds mixed with sugar and egg whites, almost like a marzipan. Later versions added coffee, vanilla, chocolate, cinnamon, lemon, orange, nuts or fruit. Today, macaroons are often made using fresh or dried coconut in place of the almonds. They are also sometimes formed into petite pastel colored sandwich cookies with a ganache filling.
 
There are conflicting stories about the origin of macaroons. Some authorities claim they are a product of Italy, particularly Renaissance-era Venice, with the name stemming from the Italian word maccherone and the Venetian macarone (which means fine paste). Indeed, Italian amaretti use the same ingredients with slightly varied amounts. However, the French also claim ownership. One story asserts the recipe originated in the town Cormery, where macaroons have been made in the monastery there since 791. Amusingly, the design of the cookie was said to mimic the shape of the monks’ navels. The city of Nancy also maintains they are the inventor of macaroons. Their version achieved fame by the 17th century, and became known as “Macaroons of the Macaroon Sisters.”
 
In America, recipes have been just as diverse, many using ingredients that were readily available, such as oatmeal, hazelnut, strawberry and apple jelly. The famous Delmonico’s Chef Charles Ranhofer featured seventeen different variations in his opus, The Epicurean.
 
The version I chose to try was Chocolate Macaroons, from another famous French chef, Pierre Blot. Best known as America’s first celebrity chef, Blot took his popular cooking classes “on the road” in the late 19th century. Instead of using crushed almonds to make these macaroons, Blot makes a paste out of baking chocolate, sugar and egg whites. Just these three ingredients made a deliciously chewy cookie that was also quick and easy to assemble.
 
The original recipe was featured in a little cookbook published in 1886 by Baker’s Chocolate company called Cocoa and Chocolate: A Short History of Their Production and Use. (At that time, companies were starting to promote their products via recipes and cookbooks).  The recipe is as follows: 
 
Chocolate Macaroons. Melt on a slow fire and in a tin pan three ounces of chocolate without sugar (known as Baker's chocolate); then work it to a thick paste with one pound of pulverized sugar and three whites of eggs. Roll the mixture down to the thickness of about one quarter of an inch; cut it in small round pieces with a paste-cutter, either plain or scalloped; butter a pan slightly and dust it with flour and sugar, half of each; place the pieces of paste or mixture in and bake in a hot, but not quick oven. Serve cold. — Pierre Blot
 
My revised version is very similar; I just increased the chocolate to 4 ounces to boost the chocolate flavor:
 
Chocolate Macaroons

• 4 oz. baking chocolate (typically 1 pkg)
• 1 lb. powdered sugar (about 3 ¾ cups)
• 3 egg whites

1. Preheat oven to 375F. Line two baking sheets with parchment paper.
2. Melt chocolate in glass bowl in the microwave in 30-second increments, stirring well in between. Or melt over a pot of simmering water on the stove. Allow to cool.
3. Beat the egg whites just until well mixed.
4. Mix the egg whites and chocolate and then sift in the powdered sugar until it forms a soft dough.
5. Using a cookie scoop or teaspoon, place balls of dough on cookie sheets, leaving about an inch in between.  
6. Bake 10-12 minutes until puffed and then cool briefly on baking sheets before transferring to wire rack.

 
Makes about 4 dozen.
 
 Sources: Good Cooking by Marjorie Heseltine and Ula M. Dow; Dictonary of Gastronomy by Andre l. Simon and Robin Howe; Larousse Gastronomique; The Oxford Companion to Food by Alan Davidson.
 
 

​Success! I am so proud of this lemon meringue pie. Not only did it look and taste great, but it was based on a 19th century recipe - no small feat since ingredients and measurements were different then. And since today (August 15) is National Lemon Meringue Pie Day, there couldn't be a better time to share this particular recipe for the luscious sweet-tart dessert favorite.
I have become more adept at recreating these older recipes, but it does often require quite a bit of tweaking, as well as the realization that the final result may not be what was expected. For example, this recipe yielded a pie with richer and more custardy lemon filling - deliciously good, just different. And since it wasn't a very thick layer, when I added the meringue topping, the pie was not as generously sized as the typical sky-high lemon meringue pies we think of today. 
I actually embrace these differences between the old and new. In fact, I often prefer the older recipes - for example, Mrs. Rorer's Chocolate Cake and Mrs. Goodfellow's Jumbles. I am now adding this lemon pie recipe to this list. It is easy to make and I love the fact it is so easily replicated from a recipe over 125 years old! 
I feel lucky to have discovered it through my experiences testing and writing about the recipes from Anna Maxwell's Victorian- era journal for a new blog on the Ebenezer Maxwell Mansion's website.  Also known as “The First Lady of the House,” Anna Smith Maxwell (1831-1912) moved into the Mansion with her husband Ebenezer and their family in 1859. 
I have been fascinated with lemon pudding and its metamorphosis  into lemon meringue pie since I started researching Mrs. Goodfellow and America's first cooking school. Prior to this I was not aware that this beloved dessert had its origins in Philadelphia, a creation developed from one of Mrs. Goodfellow’s signature confections, a rich lemon pudding. The custardy pudding was either spooned into a pastry crust before baking (like a pie), or simply poured into a dish and baked without a bottom shell. At some point she cleverly thought to top her famous pudding with fluffy meringue. Thank goodness she did otherwise we would not be celebrating Lemon Meringue Pie Day today!

Here's my new favorite version, courtesy of Anna Maxwell's journal. Anna's original directions:
Lemon Pie 
Grate the rinds of three lemons, and the juice of one. 8 tablespoons of sugar, the yolks of six eggs, 1 tablespoon of flour, 6 of sugar 1 cup of cream. Line the pans with crusts and pour in the mixture and bake. Take the six whites of the eggs and six tablespoons of sugar mixed well together and after the pies are baked spread it over them and return to the oven until brown.

And here's the modernized version:
Lemon Meringue Pie

• 3 lemons
• 1/2 cup sugar, plus 6 tablespoons 
• 6 eggs, separated 
• 1 tablespoon flour
• 1 cup cream or milk
• 1 prebaked pie crust (or use recipe below)* 
• Pinch cream of tartar 

​

1. Preheat over to 350F
2. Grate the rinds of the lemons, and extract juice from one.
3. Combine with 1/2 cup sugar, 6 egg yolks, flour and cream.
4. Pour mixture into the pie crust-lined pan and bake at 350 for a half hour. Cover edges of pie crust with foil to prevent burning.
5. Beat 6 egg whites with an electric mixer on medium speed until foamy
6. Add cream of tartar and continue beating until whites form softly curling peaks
7. Slowly add 6 tablespoons sugar and keep beating until whites form fluffy, firm peaks that curl slightly at their tips when the beater is raised. 
8. Spread the meringue over the baked pie and return to the oven and bake for about 10 minutes or until nicely browned on top.
9. Remove and let cool on a wire rack for about an hour and then refrigerate until ready to serve. 

* Flaky piecrust
(I prefer all butter pie crusts to those that use vegetable shortening - I think they have more flavor for one thing. This one is very easy to work with and works very well in a food processor. It is from Greg Patent’s amazing cookbook, Baking in America. Another reason I really like this recipe - I think the cake flour makes the dough a little softer and the resulting pie crust more tender).

• 1 cup all-purpose flour
• 1/3 cup cake flour
• 1/4 tsp. salt
• 1/2 cup (1 stick) butter 
• 1/4 cup ice water
• 1/2 tsp cider vinegar
• 1 large egg yolk

​​

1. Place the flour in a food processor with the salt and pulse. Cut the butter into 1-inch chunks and add them to the flour. Pulse 4 to 6 times to break them up.
2. Combine the vinegar and egg yolk in a measuring cup and add enough ice water to bring the volume up to ½ cup. (You may not need to use all of the liquid, unless your flour is very dry.) While pulsing, add the liquid in a steady stream until the flour looks crumbly and damp. Between 25 and 30 pulses should be enough. Don’t let the dough form a ball. The crumbs should adhere when you gather them in your hand. If not, add a few more drops of ice water.
3. Turn out the dough and divide it into 2 pieces, one slightly larger than the other. Wrap each piece in plastic wrap and press it into a disk. Refrigerate for 30 minutes to an hour before rolling.
4. Roll out and place in a 9-in pie plate. Refrigerate for one hour. 
5. Adjust oven to center position and preheat to 400F.
6. Line chilled past shell with a square of aluminum foil and fill with dried beans. Bake for 20 min. Remove from oven, take out foil and beans and prick all over with a fork. Return to oven and bake for about 10 more min. Cool completely on wire rack before filling. 

For more on lemon meringue pie and its history as a Victorian-era creation, see the blog post on the Ebenezer Maxwell Mansion website:  Lemon Pie

Deliciously chewy with a slightly crispy coating, chocolate puffs are delightful meringue cookies reminiscent of a baked chocolate mousse. Very simple to make, they require only four ingredients: egg whites, powdered sugar, cornstarch and unsweetened chocolate.

A sweet blend of stiffly beaten egg whites and sugar, meringue dates back to the sixteenth century. European cooks realized that whisking egg whites with birch twigs (for the lack of a better utensil), created a light, frothy mixture. They used this method to make what they called “snow,” a velvety combination of whipped beaten egg whites and cream.

It was eventually discovered that meringue hardens when baked at a low temperature (or simply left out in the air to dry), changing the texture from silky to one that is pleasantly airy and crispy. In the seventeenth century this was often called “sugar puff,” which was sometimes flavored with caraway seeds, a tradition that continued to evolve with other flavorings, creating a large number of taste combinations. In addition to sugar puffs, nineteenth century cookbooks feature recipes for lemon puffs, orange puffs, almond puffs, curd puffs and chocolate puffs, which I adapted from a recipe found in Anna Maxwell’s journal.

The recipe calls for grated baking chocolate, which gives the cookies a pretty speckled look and really boosts the flavor. However, later recipes often call for unsweetened cocoa, which is a perfectly fine substitution. This is a result of improvements in cocoa processing that occurred throughout the nineteenth century. In 1828 a Dutchman by the name of van Houten patented a way to simplify cacao processing by pressing out most of the fat and alkalizing the dry cocoa that remained. This revolutionized the manufacturing of chocolate, allowing it to assume solid, liquid, and powdered form, paving the way for all kinds of chocolate dessert possibilities. In the decades that followed, recipes for chocolate blancmanges, mousses, creams, cream pies, custards, puddings, soufflés, and syrups began appearing more frequently in period cookbooks. Chocolate puffs are actually one of the earliest chocolate recipes, dating back to the 1700s, featured in cookbooks by Elizabeth Raffald (1769) and Richard Briggs (1792).

Anna’s recipe also contains an ubiquitous nineteenth century measurement – “teacup.” This is one of the challenges in interpreting and adapting historic recipes. Before “standardized” measuring units, cooks used various types of measures. In addition to teacup as a measure, wineglass, dessertspoonful and saltspoonful were often listed as measuring devices in recipes. (We can thank Fannie Farmer for finally standardizing culinary measurements). Since we don’t know what size Anna’s teacups were, I had to improvise by looking at other recipes from the time and similar modern ones. I was able to determine that a teacup is typically about a half a cup in today’s measurements, so I went with one cup of powdered sugar to equal the “2 teacups” in Anna’s recipe, which worked great.
​
The recipe also says that chocolate puffs are “nice to mix with cake in the basket,” so it is likely Anna served them for tea, perhaps in a silver basket covered with lace, arranged alongside golden sponge and dark, rich fruitcake. The contrasting shades of these treats would have been a lovely presentation.

Here’s Anna’s original recipe:
CHOCOLATE PUFFS, that are nice to mix with cake in the basket, are made by beating to a stiff froth the whites of two eggs; stir in with them, gradually, two teacupfuls of powdered sugar and two tablespoonfuls of corn starch; mix two ounces of chocolate, which you have grated, with the corn starch. Bake these on buttered tins for fifteen minutes in a moderate oven. They should be dropped on the tins from a large spoon.
And here’s my adapted version (I used a stand mixer but feel free to used a hand mixer or mix by hand if you’d like a workout!)

 "Now ice cream is potent, and Parkinson opens his portals and vends vanilla. Penn cockneys cram the dainty fabrication down their unrelenting mouths with marvelous insatiety." 
 ~"Philadelphia in the Dog Days," Graham’s Magazine, July 1837 
 
A member of the orchid family, vanilla comes from a plant that produces long, narrow pods filled with tiny seeds. It is actually a New World food, native to southern Mexico, Central America and the West Indies. Thomas Jefferson was apparently a fan, as he imported vanilla beans to flavor his homemade ice cream. However, the rich ingredient didn’t enter widespread use in America until the mid-19th century, when increased production lowered the cost.
 
Once it did become more widely available, vanilla flavored treats took off, and ice cream was no exception. In fact, vanilla it was one of the most popular ice cream flavors in the 1840s and 1850s, featured on the menu at Philadelphian James Parkinson’s 1851 culinary duel with New York known as The Thousand Dollar Dinner.
 
Parkinson's vanilla ice cream obtained its rich, decadent taste through the use of pure vanilla sugar, which contained small bits of ground vanilla bean, not artificial vanilla flavoring as is often used today. He even sold his own vanilla extract to be used in various confectionery. In an advertisement for this product he warns, "Never use vanilla extracts which are of a dark color. The pure article is of a bright, clear amber. The genuine vanilla odor is much more delicate, like the fine aromatic fragrance of flowers.

​This recipe has been one of my son’s favorites ever since he discovered it over four years ago in a cute kids cookbook he checked out of the school library called Cool Pies & Tarts. I had heard of French Silk Pie - perhaps on a restaurant menu or in a store, but didn't recall ever trying it. So I just assumed it would be similar to a chocolate mousse or chocolate cream pie. But this luscious dessert is even better. Delectable is really the best word to describe it. Smooth, creamy, rich - pure chocolate heaven. 

So of course I had to figure out the history of this incredible dessert! It is a fairly recent phenomenon which dates back to 1951 when Betty Cooper from Kensington, Maryland submitted her original recipe for French Silk Chocolate Pie and won the Pillsbury Bake-Off Contest. You can view this version on the Pillsbury website (the company says it is one of their "top 10 pies to try"). From there I guess it just took off, as a review of literature from the second half of the 20th century shows it popping up in cookbooks, magazines and newspapers, and more recently on blogs such as Ree Drummond's The Pioneer Woman Cooks.

One of the best things about this pie is that it is surprisingly easy to make and takes just a few ingredients. The original recipe says to use a regular pie crust, but the one in the kids cookbook suggested a vanilla wafer cookie crust, although we prefer graham cracker. As an FYI- it calls for four eggs that end up not being cooked and require 5 minutes of beating each (yes, a full 20 minutes total -this gives it that delicious ultra-creamy and whipped consistency). The recipe does specify pasteurized eggs (technically all egg products sold in the U.S. must be pasteurized due to the risk of food-borne illnesses), although many folks still might find using raw eggs problematic with various salmonella outbreaks. However, I honestly don't worry too much about that since I only buy organic, free-range eggs which pose much less of a risk. Also, folks that are very young, very old, pregnant or with comprised immune systems are more susceptible to issues with raw eggs, none of which fit our family demographic. (For those who are concerned, there are numerous French Silk Pie recipes that call for cooked eggs - here's one from Food.com, or just simply Google "French Silk Pie cooked" for others).
Here’s the recipe we use:

French Silk Pie

INGREDIENTS
For the pie crust

• 1 1/2 cups finely ground graham cracker crumbs
• 1/3 cup white sugar
• 6 tablespoons melted butter
• ½ tsp cinnamon
  
  

For the Filling

• 3 1-ounce squares unsweetened chocolate
• 1 cup butter, softened
• 2 cups powdered sugar
• 4 pasteurized eggs 
• 2 teaspoons vanilla extract
• whipped cream (optional)
  
  1. Place graham crackers in a gallon-size plastic zipper bag, seal and then roll over the bag with a rolling pin to crush into crumbs. (You could also pulverize them in a food processor, but kids find it fun to crush with the rolling pin).
  2. Mix the crumbs with the sugar, cinnamon and melted butter in a mixing bowl until well combined.
  3. Spread the crumb mixture evenly into a 9-inch pie pan, pressing firmly into the bottom and sides. Place the crust in the refrigerator while you make the filling.
  4. Melt the chocolate in a double boiler or microwave. Let cool to room temperature.
  5. Cream butter and sugar until light and fluffy then beat in the melted chocolate.
  6. Add the eggs one at a time, beating for 5 minutes before adding each egg and scraping down the sides of the bowl every few minutes. (Do not skimp on the time for this - you will be well-rewarded for your patience!)
  7. Stir in the vanilla.
  8. Pour mixture into the prepared pie shell and chill for several hours
  

​           9. Serve with a dollop of whipped cream and enjoy!!

Source: Cool Pies & Tarts by Pam Price 

​Ingredients:

• 1 box DeCecco Racchette shaped pasta
• 1 cucumber
• 2 tomatoes (or 1 container cherry tomatoes)
• 1/3 cup chopped pitted olives
• Pesto (directions below)

 

1. Cook pasta until al dente (about 9 min). When done, drain and rinse with cold water then transfer to a large bowl.
2. Peel cucumber, cut in half lengthwise and remove seeds. Chop into bite size pieces. Chop tomatoes (or cut in half if using cherry tomatoes). Add cucumber, tomatoes and olives to pasta.
3. Mix in pesto. (May not need entire recipe below. If not, refrigerate or freeze remaining for future use).
4. Chill for a few hours to allow flavors to blend Enjoy!

Pesto

• 2 cups basil
• 2 cloves garlic
• 1/4 cup grated parmesan
• 1/4 cup slivered almonds
• salt & pepper to taste
• 1/3 cup olive oil
• 1-2 tbsp. lemon juice

Directions:
Pulse basil, garlic, parmesan cheese, almonds, salt and pepper in a food processor until smooth. Slowly add the olive oil while pulsing. Add 1 tablespoon lemon juice and pulse again. Add more lemon juice if needed.  

Delicate and buttery with a tinge of salty brininess, it’s hard to imagine that scallops were one of the least consumed shellfish in the nineteenth century. Today restaurant menus often feature this luxury food for upwards of $25. But in the past, the lack of scallop offerings was not due to cost, it was simply because they were not as favored.  According to James Beard, other varieties of shellfish considered delicacies today were also “underappreciated,” including crab and shrimp.
 
The most popular nineteenth century shellfish was undoubtedly the much-revered oyster – not only a staple on fine dining tables throughout the Victorian era, but also served up by street vendors in major cities and featured in oyster bars. Lobsters were also a favorite, and even clams, as per the recipes found in era cookbooks. 
 
Charles Ranhofer’s The Epicurean (1893) lists only six recipes for scallops and two for shrimp, but features pages of oyster and lobster dishes, as well as recipes for frogs, snails, and terrapin – the turtle was highly prized at the time. Ranhofer’s comment about scallops: “They are eaten, although of a tough nature.” Perhaps it was the way they were prepared then. Most recipes recommended parboiling prior to frying or baking, which is an unnecessary amount of cooking for these tender morsels. Most modern recipes warn that searing or sautéing scallops a minute or two per side is plenty. 
 
I personally adore scallops, and was delighted when I found dry scallops on sale during a recent trip to the supermarket. Dry scallops taste much better as they are freshly caught. As noted by America’s Test Kitchen’s Molly Birnbaum, wet scallops “are treated with a solution of water and sodium tripolyphosphate, or STPP, which preserves them as soon as they are harvested at sea. Then they're often frozen.” This solution helps preserve them, but it also gives them a spongy texture and imparts a soapy taste.
 
Because they aren’t wet and soggy, dry scallops are perfect for searing, which is what I did, adapting a 19th century recipe from the era’s celebrity chef, Pierre Blot. Not surprisingly, it was one of just a handful of scallop recipes featured in his cookbooks. As I mentioned, 19th century recipes tended to favor a longer cooking time, and indeed, Blot recommends blanching the scallops first, perhaps to prevent them from sticking to the pan. However, I skipped this step since I wanted to make sure the outside was crispy and the interior remained tender and juicy.
 
Blot’s recipe is really simple:
 
Scallops – Blanch the scallops for three minutes, drain them. Put butter on the fire in a frying-pan, and when melted turn the scallops in; stir now and then, take from the fire when fried, add parsley chopped fine, salt, pepper, and serve warm. 
 
Fusing Blot’s recipe with instructions from modern recipes, here’s what I did:
 
Simply Scallops

• 1 pound dry sea scallops (not bay scallops)
• 1-2 tablespoons butter
• Salt and pepper to taste
• 1-2 tablespoons chopped parsley

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1. Place scallops in a colander and pat dry with paper towels.
2. Melt the butter over very high heat. When pan is sizzling, add scallops and spread out.
3. Cook just two minutes a side or until opaque, then remove to a platter and sprinkle with salt, pepper and parsley. That’s it!

 
I served mine with some linguine dressed in olive oil, lemon, garlic and parlsey alongside some sautéed broccolini (baby broccoli), but feel free to be creative! They were delicious served with a Washington State Pinot Gris.

Sources: Hand-book of Practical Cookery by Pierre Blot, American Cookery by James Beard, The Oxford Companion to American Food and Drink ed. by Andrew F. Smith, The Epicurean by Charles Ranhofer  ​