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

​

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  ​

​Most people know that June 14 is Flag Day, but did you realize it is also National Strawberry Shortcake Day? A perfect reason to celebrate these two All-American icons!  

True strawberry shortcake incorporates a rich, crumbly, biscuit-like cake that is not too sweet - very similar to a scone. The biscuit dough can be shaped into one large cake and then cut into pieces, or baked as separate little cakes, either by cutting the dough into rounds with a biscuit cutter, or dropping spoonfuls of dough on a baking sheet like a drop biscuit. Each individual cake is then split in half, filled with ripe, juicy strawberries and topped with fresh whipped cream.
 
A popular Victorian dessert, strawberry shortcake began popping up in American cookbooks in the mid-1800s, likely evolving from the shortcake and biscuit-type desserts that were common in England, such as Derby Short Cakes (also known as Derby Biscuits or Derby Cakes) - thick biscuits sweetened with sugar and sometimes currants, cut into scalloped rounds. Derby Short Cakes were apparently an offshoot of Yarmouth Biscuits, an even richer treat made with liberal amounts of butter and eggs and seasoned with caraway seeds.
 
But Derby Short Cakes and the other shortcake recipes that came later were different from Yarmouth Biscuits in that they all used some form of dairy  - milk, cream, buttermilk, sour cream, etc. Not only did this moisten and tenderize the dough, it also gave the biscuits a crisper crust and added structure, preventing them from collapsing in the oven.
 
However, these still would have been rather flat since they contained no rising agent. But once chemical leavenings came on the scene in the nineteenth century, they were added to shortcake recipes, resulting in full, fluffy biscuits with a softer crumb. It is not known for sure when strawberries were first partnered with shortcake. Wild strawberries are native to both the Old and New World, so they would have been available to European and American cooks. Although they produce smaller berries and lower yields than today’s commercial varieties, they are sweeter and more flavorful – a perfect companion for rich, not overly sweet shortcake.
 
Strawberries were so beloved in America that British traveller Godfrey Vigne wrote about a strawberry party, or “Fête champêtre” that took place in Baltimore in 1831. “Quadrilles and waltzes were kept up with great spirit, first on the lawn, and then in the house till about eleven. In the mean time strawberries and cream, ices, pineapples, and champagne, were served up in the greatest profusion,” he remarked.
 
So perhaps it was a “given” that shortcake was topped with strawberries or other fruit, it just wasn’t written down in the recipe books. In any case, the oldest mention of strawberry shortcake I was able to find dates back to 1835, published in The New York Farmer and American Gardener's Magazine, although the author refers to it as “Strawberry Cake”: “In several parts of New-England, and I suppose wherever the worthy housewives of that portion of our country are scattered, short-cake is made, and while hot is cut open, and strawberries sweetened with sugar are put in. This cake is said to be delicious.” Sounds like the strawberry shortcake we all know and love!
 
The earliest recipe I found with the exact wording “Strawberry Short Cake” was published twenty years later in 1855, and it sounds absolutely decadent:
 
Strawberry Short Cake
Take one pint of rich sour cream, half a teaspoonful of pearlash and flour enough to make it of the consistency of soft biscuit, salt, roll it out and bake it on a large pie plate when cold enough to split and not make it heavy; split it evenly and put a quart of nice strawberries in the centre, covering them with half a pint of rich sweet cream and powdered sugar; return the upper crust, and when you serve it cut it the same as pie. Very rich for the stomach.
(Source: The Practical Housekeeper, and Young Woman's Friend By Marion L. Scott, 1855)
 
But the version I decided to try was from the journal of Anna Maxwell (also known as Ebenezer Maxwell Mansion’s “First Lady of the House”). Today we have the luxury today of buying strawberries year-round, but in Anna’s day, they would have only been available when strawberries were in season, typically May and June. If you can, try to find local strawberries for this recipe as they will be much fresher, juicier and more flavorful.
 
Anna’s recipe was so easy and required minimal ingredients – simply a joy to make. The biscuits were delicious and could be served on their own as part of a chicken dinner, paired with other summer fruit such as blueberries or peaches, or even for breakfast. In fact, my children had the leftover biscuits the next morning with a little melted butter and smear of whipped cream – they raved about this indulgent treat!
Here’s the adapted version:

Anna Maxwell’s Strawberry Short Cake  

Ingredients:

• 1 pound strawberries
• 2 cups flour
• 1 tablespoon sugar
• ¼ teaspoon salt
• 3 tablespoons chilled butter, cut into pieces
• ¾ cup sour cream
• 1 teaspoon baking soda,
• 1 egg, beaten
• 1 cup heavy cream
• 2 tablespoons powdered sugar
• ½ tsp vanilla

Directions:

1. Preheat oven to 375.
2. Place a mixing bowl and beaters in the freezer (for making whipped cream later).
3. Rinse, hull and slice strawberries. Place in bowl and add sugar to taste. Set aside. 
4. Mix the flour, sugar and salt together, then add the chilled butter, blending it in with a pastry cutter until the mixture is a fine consistency.
5. Dissolve the baking soda into the sour cream and add to the other ingredients along with the egg. Mix with a fork until a soft dough forms; add a little extra flour if needed. Form into a ball with floured hands and roll out onto a lightly floured surface to ¾-inch thickness. Cut into 4 biscuits with a biscuit cutter and place on ungreased baking sheet. Scoop up remaining dough and roll out again, cutting out two more biscuits. Add to baking sheet and place in the oven.
6. Bake for about 15 minutes. Remove from oven and cool on wire rack.
7. To make whipped cream, remove mixing bowl and beaters from freezer. Combine powdered sugar, vanilla and heavy cream in bowl. Whisk just until the cream holds its shape.
8. To serve, split shortcakes in half with serrated knife, spread strawberries and their juices over the bottom halves and top with shortcake tops and whipped cream. Enjoy!!!

 
My taste testers loved this dessert and even asked for the recipe. A true American classic that’s just as excellent today as it was during the Victorian era!
 
Additional sources: Baking in America by Greg Patent; The Oxford Companion to Food by Alan Davidson; The Oxford Companion to American Food and Drink, ed. by Andrew F. Smith; Food in the United States, 1820s-1890 by Susan Williams, The Foods of England Project website- http://www.foodsofengland.co.uk/index.htm

Crispy on the outside and slightly soft on the inside, these delightful little cakes are reminiscent of shortbread or scones. A fragrant combination of cinnamon and rose water gives them a delicate, slightly spicy flavor. Perfect for enjoying alongside a steaming cup of tea or coffee, they can be found in Pierre Blot’s Handbook of Practical Cookery (1868), and are very similar to another recipe for “Tea Cakes” from that same cookbook that I blogged about previously. 

Although Blot calls them “Hard Cakes,” they are basically Shrewsbury Cakes, which originated in the British medieval market town of Shrewsbury and became a teatime staple in many colonial American households. An 1851 book from Henry Pidgeon called Memorials of Shrewsbury sheds a little light on the history of these indulgences. Says Pidgeon, “Among the delicacies for which our town is celebrated may be mentioned a most delicious Cake … which appear to have been presented to distinguished personages on their visit to this town as early as the reign of Elizabeth; and when their Royal Highnesses the Duchess of Kent and the Princess Victoria arrived here in 1832, they were graciously pleased to accept a box of them from the Mayor.”

They are often embellished with a pretty design, made by scoring the dough with a knife (or a wooden stick as Blot suggests) and then glazing with beaten egg. I’m wondering if this is because Shrewsbury was also well known for its stained glass, which adorned churches and mansions throughout the area. As Pidgeon states, “Glass-staining has been brought to the highest state of perfection in this town … contending in effect with some of the finest works of the ancient masters.”

​In any case, these delicious treats are very easy to make – just flour, sugar, butter, eggs, cinnamon, (nutmeg, mace or caraway seeds can be used instead) and rose water (or any other essence, such as orange-flower water, lemon essence, or even vanilla). Although rising agents such as saleratus would have been available to Blot, he sticks with the original recipe, which uses no baking agent. Enjoy!
 
Blot’s original recipe:
 
Hard.—Put half a pound of flour on the paste-board and make a hole in the middle; put into it three ounces of pulverized sugar, three ounces of butter, two eggs, a pinch of cinnamon, a few drops of essence, and knead the whole well, dust the board with flour, roll the paste down to a thickness of about one-fourth of an inch, cut it in pieces with a paste-cutter, of any shape; beat one egg with a teaspoonful of sugar and glaze the pieces with it; with a piece of wood draw leaves or flowers on each, and bake in an oven at about 360 degrees Fahr. They are eaten cold at tea.
 
My adapted version:
 
Hard (Shrewsbury) Cakes

• 1 ¾ cups flour
• 6 tablespoons salted butter, softened
• 1/3 cup sugar
• 2 eggs
• ½ tsp cinnamon
• 1 tsp essence (rosewater or orange blossom water)
• 1 egg
• 1 tsp sugar

 

1. Preheat oven to 350F.
2. Line a large baking sheet with parchment paper.
3. Cream butter and sugar in a blender until well mixed.
4. Add eggs one at a time and mix well. Add rosewater.
5. Sift flour with cinnamon and slowly add to other ingredients.
6. Form dough into a ball and roll out onto a well-floured surface to a thickness of slightly more than ¼ inch. Cut into shapes using a biscuit or cookie cutter. (I used a flower-shaped cutter – you could also just use a glass to make circles).
7. Beat an egg with a teaspoon of sugar and use this to generously glaze the pieces. Using a knife, draw flowers or leaves on each (I did letters to symbolize the initials of the friends with whom I shared my finished version).
8. Bake for 10-12 minutes or until firm to the touch. Cool on a wire rack. Enjoy as per British tradition if you’d like - spread with some clotted cream and preserves accompanied by a cup of tea. 

Sources: Handbook of Practical Cookery by Pierre Blot (1868), Memorials of Shrewsbury by Henry Pidgeon (1851),  A Sweet Taste of History by Chef Walter Staib (2013)