Showing posts with label dessert. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dessert. Show all posts
Monday, October 16, 2017
Top 5 Dickensian recipes
History Extra
Oxtail stew. (© CICO Books 2017)
The many scenes of eating in the novels of Charles Dickens (1812-1870) are useful ingredients of Victorian social history, particularly his scenes of the young, who are hungry for food and security and are let down by the well-fed adults and, crucially, the institutions who should be caring for them.
Dickens knew the agony of childhood hunger and loneliness. He loved convivial meals and we know his wife Catherine gave a lot of thought to them, because she published a little book of ‘bills of fare’ called What Shall We Have for Dinner? In their London home, she oversaw the cook sweltering over a coal-burning cast-iron range in a cramped basement kitchen, to produce an impressive variety of dishes for a dinner party. To help balance the books, family menus featured economic and filling puddings.
Dickens’ knowledge of domestic details is unusual in a Victorian man: in A Christmas Carol, he knows that Mrs Cratchit, too poor to have an oven, sends her goose to the baker’s and the washing copper doubles up as a pudding pan; in Martin Chuzzlewit he makes a joke about making a beefsteak pudding pastry with butter. This is all part of a picture he loved to paint – a rosy-cheeked young woman learning to cook for her brother or husband.
Victorian food may have a reputation for being either stodgy or unnecessarily fussy, but recreating the dishes that Dickens and his characters tuck into shows that it can be delicious, savoury and warming, light and elegant – and always best shared. Here, author Pen Vogler shares five top Dickensian recipes, updated for modern kitchens…
Charitable soup Catherine Dickens’ menu book is most indebted to the recipes of the celebrity chef Alexis Soyer. In 1847, in the midst of the Irish potato famine, he travelled to Dublin to set up a famine-relief kitchen and wrote Soyer’s Charitable Cookery, the proceeds of which he gave to charity. He later travelled to the Crimea to change the diet of soldiers, particularly those in hospital.
SERVES 6
2 onions, sliced a little olive oil, for frying
2 leeks, sliced and washed free of grit
2 sticks of celery, chopped
2 lb 3 oz/1kg shin of beef or neck of lamb, bone in, cut into pieces by your butcher, plus some stock bones
2 small turnips, chopped bouquet garni or 2 bay leaves and a few sprigs of thyme and curly parsley, tied together
8½ cups/2 litres water (or beef stock if you are using meat without bones)
6 tablespoons pearl barley
3 carrots, chopped salt and freshly ground black pepper
Preheat the oven, if using, to 325°F/165°C/Gas 3.
Sauté the onions in a little olive oil in a skillet/frying pan until they begin to soften, then add the leeks and celery and continue to soften for 5 minutes.
Tip this into a saucepan. Add a little more oil to the pan and brown the meat lightly on all sides in two batches—don’t let it sweat in the pan—then add it to the onions. Add the turnips, herbs, and either stock or cold water plus the stock bones. Season with salt and pepper, bring to a simmer and simmer on a very low heat, or cover and put it in the preheated oven, for 1½ hours.
Add the pearl barley and carrots and continue to simmer for 45 minutes, or until the pearl barley is cooked. Toward the end of the cooking time, take the stock bones and herbs out of the pan and discard.
Take the meat out of the broth, pull it off the bones and shred it, then return the meat to the pan.
Oxtail stew
In The Old Curiosity Shop, Nell, her grandfather, and their eccentric fellow travellers are revived at The Jolly Sandboys with an equally eccentric “stew of tripe… cow-heel… steak… peas, cauliflowers, new potatoes, and sparrow-grass [asparagus] all working up together in one delicious gravy.” Margaret Dods’ dish of oxtail rather than cow-heel, served with peas and root vegetables, is also good for a hungry crowd on a rainy night.
SERVES 4
1 oxtail, about 3¼ lb/1.5kg, cut into short lengths (your butcher will do this for you)
4 slices of unsmoked streaky bacon, chopped olive oil, for frying
2 onions, peeled and roughly chopped
2 garlic cloves, crushed
3 carrots, peeled and roughly chopped 1 small turnip, peeled and roughly chopped a sprig of thyme, a few stalks of parsley, and a bay leaf, tied in a bouquet or in a muslin
1 quart/1 litre organic beef stock salt and freshly ground black pepper sauce hachée or horseradish sauce
For the sauce hachée
2–3 gherkins, finely chopped
1 tablespoon flat-leaf parsley, leaves only, finely chopped salt and freshly ground black pepper Optional extra flavourings for sauce
2 scallions/spring onions, very finely chopped or ½ teaspoon grated horseradish or a little lemon zest
Rinse the oxtail pieces and then leave to soak in salted cold water for an hour or two.
Drain the oxtail, place in a pan of fresh water and bring to a rolling boil for 10–15 minutes, skimming the scum from the surface (this removes the bitterness).
If you are cooking the stew in the oven, preheat it to 300°F/150°C/Gas 2. Fry the bacon in a very little olive oil in a large flameproof pot. Add the onions and garlic and sweat until they begin to soften, then add the rest of the vegetables.
Add the drained oxtail pieces to the pot, fry them a little in the fat until they start to color, then add the herbs, the beef stock, and enough water to make sure the meat is completely covered. Bring to a simmer, check the seasoning, and add a little salt if necessary. Cover and either keep on a very low heat or put in the oven for 4 hours. Add a little water if the oxtail is becoming dry.
When the meat is falling off the bone, take the stew off the heat or remove from the oven. If the gravy is too thin, remove the meat and vegetables with a slotted spoon and boil it fast to reduce it until it is the depth of intensity you like, then add salt and pepper to taste and return the meat and vegetables.
Serve with peas, mashed carrots, and parsnips. For the sauce hachée, simply mix the ingredients and any extra flavouring you select together and serve separately, along with a bowl of horseradish sauce. Or make horseradish mash by infusing warm milk with grated horseradish root while the potatoes are cooking.
Ruth Pinch's beefsteak pudding
Beefsteak pudding. (© CICO Books 2017)
In Martin Chuzzlewit, Ruth Pinch - the sort of ingénue housekeeper that Dickens loved writing about - is worried that the beefsteak pudding she cooks for her brother Tom will “turn out a stew, or a soup, or something of that sort.” Tom enjoys watching her cook, but later teases her when they realize she should have used suet for the pastry. Eliza Acton gives Ruth the last word by devising “Ruth Pinch’s Beefsteak Pudding,” made with butter and eggs.
SERVES 4
For the pastry
3½ cups/450g self-rising flour a pinch of salt
2/3 cup/150g cold butter, cubed, plus extra for greasing
3 eggs
For the filling
1 lb 2 oz/500g stewing steak, cubed 1 onion, finely chopped
2 teaspoons freshly chopped thyme
2 teaspoons freshly chopped parsley
3 level tablespoons all-purpose/plain flour about
2/3 cup/150ml beef stock (or water plus a tablespoon of Worcestershire sauce or mushroom ketchup) salt and freshly ground black pepper
And any of Eliza Acton’s suggested additions:
a few whole oysters or 5½ oz/150g kidney, chopped (Eliza recommended “veal kidneys seasoned with fine herbs”) or
6 oz/170g “nicely prepared button mushrooms”
or a few shavings of fresh truffle
or 5–7 oz/150–200g sweetbreads, chopped
Start by making the pastry. Sieve the flour and salt into a basin; add the butter and rub it in. Beat the eggs together with a dash of cold water, then stir them into the flour mixture with a wooden spoon. Pull the mixture together with your hands, adding a little more water or flour as necessary. When you have an elastic dough, turn it onto a lightly floured board and roll out into a large disc. Cut a quarter out and put to one side.
Fold the two outer quarters over the middle quarter and put into a well-buttered 2-pint/1.2-litre basin, with the point in the bottom. Unfold the two outer quarters and push the pastry into the sides of the basin, wetting the edges so that they seal together and the whole basin is fully lined. Trim the top edge so there is ½–1 inch/1–2cm of pastry overhanging the edge of the basin.
Roll out the remaining quarter to make a circular lid.
Mix the meat with the remaining ingredients except the liquid, making sure the flour is well distributed. Turn it into the pastry-lined basin and pour the stock or liquid over. Brush the top edge of the pastry in the basin with water and put the pastry lid on top, pinching it around to seal.
Put a lid of buttered foil or a circle of parchment or greaseproof paper and a cloth on top, adding a pleat to give room for the pudding to puff up.
Place the basin in a saucepan so that the water comes halfway up the side of the pudding. Cover and steam for up to 4 hours, checking and topping up the water level every half hour or so.
Serve straight from the bowl or turn it out and cut it into segments. The butter crust makes this easier to do than the traditional suet one.
French plums
French plums. (© CICO Books 2017)
The French Plums that Scrooge sees in the greengrocer’s are “blushed in modest tartness from their highly-decorated boxes” (which, if “exceedingly ornamental,” even Mrs. Beeton concedes might be put directly on the dining table). Port and cinnamon turn too-tart plums into a Christmas delight. Candied French plums were Christmas gifts, but should not be confused with “sugar plums,” which are, in fact, sugared nuts or seeds.
Put the water or orange juice, port, sugar, cinnamon stick, and lemon rind in a pan and heat gently until the sugar has dissolved and you have a syrup.
Add the plums, cover, and stew gently for 15 minutes.
Serve with cream, Italian Cream (see page 157), or custard. Alternatively, make into a plum pie by mixing the ingredients together in a pie dish, adding a pastry lid (see pastry recipe on page 129), and baking at 400°F/200°C/Gas 6 for 30–35 minutes.
SERVES 4
3 tablespoons water or juice of
1 orange
3 tablespoons port
1 tablespoon soft brown sugar a cinnamon stick a small piece of orange or lemon rind
approx. 1 lb 2 oz/500g French plums, halved and stones removed
Almond cake for Steerforth
The feast of currant wine, biscuits, fruit, and almond cakes that Steerforth persuades David Copperfield to provide feeds David’s infatuation with the charismatic older boy. A subsequent gift from Peggotty, of cake, oranges, and cowslip wine, he lays at the feet of Steerforth for him to dispense. William Kitchiner’s light almond cake pairs well with oranges, berries, or other fruit.
SERVES 8–10
butter, for greasing
5 free-range eggs
1 cup minus
1 tablespoon/180g golden superfine/caster sugar (or granulated sugar, if you cannot find golden superfine/caster sugar) finely grated zest of 1 lemon or orange
1 teaspoon almond extract (optional)
a pinch of salt
a pinch of cream of tartar
2 cups/200g ground almonds
¼ cup/35g all-purpose/plain flour
For the frosting
1 tablespoon orange or lemon juice
¾ cup/100g confectioners’/icing sugar, sifted
To serve fresh fruit, such as raspberries or cherries, or fruit compôte, such as orange, apricot, or plum
Preheat the oven to 350°F/180°C/Gas 4.
Grease a 9-inch/23-cm bundt pan/tin or ring mold, or a plain springform pan/tin. Separate the eggs and leave the whites to come to room temperature.
Make sure there is no yolk or fat in the whites, which would prevent them from beating properly.
Beat the yolks with ½ cup/100g of the sugar until pale and fluffy, then beat in the lemon or orange zest and the almond extract, if using.
In a completely clean bowl, beat the egg whites until stiff (you should be able to turn the bowl upside down and they won’t fall out!). Add a quarter of the remaining sugar, the pinch of salt, and the cream of tartar, beat again, then fold in the rest of the sugar.
Fold the whites into the batter, a quarter at a time, followed by the almonds and flour. Scrape the mixture into the mold or pan. Bake in the preheated oven for 35–40 minutes until the cake is shrinking from the sides of the pan.
Remove from the oven and leave the cake to cool in the pan for 10 minutes, then turn it out.
To make the frosting, stir the orange or lemon juice into the sifted confectioner's/icing sugar, then drizzle over the cake. Fill the centre of the cake with fresh fruit such as raspberries or cherries.
Alternatively, keep it plain and serve it with a compôte of fruit such as oranges, apricots, or plums.
Almond cake. (© CICO Books 2017)
Compotes of fruit
Eliza Acton recommends a compôte of fruit as a more elegant dessert than the “common ‘stewed fruit’ of English cookery.” The fruit, being added to a syrup, better retains its structure and taste, and the syrup is beautifully translucent. She recommends serving the redcurrant compôtes with the substantial batter, custard, bread, or ground rice puddings Victorians loved.
The preparation is simple. Gently boil white granulated sugar and water together for 10 minutes to make a syrup, skimming any scum from the surface. Add the fruit and simmer until the fruit is lightly cooked. If the syrup is too runny, remove the fruit with a slotted spoon and arrange it in a serving dish. Reduce the syrup over a medium heat, let it cool slightly, and then pour it over. It may also be served cold, and it keeps for a day or two in the fridge. Cinnamon, cloves, vanilla beans/pods, or a little orange or lemon peel can be used as flavourings when you make the syrup.
Eliza Acton recommends the following proportions and timings:
Rhubarb, gooseberries, cherries, damsons - syrup made from ¾ cup/140g sugar with 1¼ cups/280ml water; add 1 lb/450g fruit and simmer for about 10 minutes.
Redcurrants and raspberries - syrup made from ¾ cup/140g sugar with 2/3 cup/140ml water; add 1 lb/450g fruit and simmer for 5–7 minutes.
Mrs. Beeton recommends the following proportions and timings:
Oranges - syrup made from 1½ cups/300g sugar with 21/3 cups/570ml water; add 6 oranges, skin and pith removed, cut into segments. Simmer for 5 minutes. Apples—syrup made from 1 cup plus 2 tablespoons/225g sugar to scant 1¼ cups/280ml water; peel, halve, and core the apples and simmer in the syrup with the juice and rind of a lemon for 15–25 minutes.
Dinner with Dickens: Recipes Inspired by the Life and Work of Charles Dickens by Pen Vogler (CICO Books, £16.99) is on sale now. Pen Vogler is a food historian whose other books include Dinner with Mr Darcy and Tea with Jane Austen.
Monday, October 2, 2017
Sam’s historical recipe corner: Custard tart
History Extra
Custard tarts really are the food of and queens. They were served at Henry IV’s coronation in 1399 and more recently at Queen Elizabeth’s 80th birthday in 2006. In medieval times the tarts (also known as doucetes and darioles) could include pork too – dinner and pudding in one! Custard recipes go back to Roman times, but I used Marcus Wareing’s Queen’s birthday banquet version.
Ingredients
For the pastry:
• 225g flour + pinch of salt
• Zest of one lemon
• 150g butter
• 75g caster sugar
• 1 egg and 1 egg yolk
For the filling:
• 9 egg yolks
• 75g caster sugar
• 500ml whipping cream
• 2 nutmegs
Method
Preheat oven to 170°C/gas mark 3. Add salt, lemon zest and butter to the flour and mix between fingertips until it resembles breadcrumbs.
Add sugar, then the beaten egg and extra yolk, and form into a ball. Wrap in clingfilm, chill in a fridge for 1-2 hours, then roll out on a floured surface to 2mm thick.
Use to line an 18cm flan ring, placed on a baking tray, and cover with greaseproof paper and baking beans. Bake for 10 mins or until pastry starts to go golden brown. Remove, then cool. Reduce oven to 130°C/gas mark 1.
Bring the cream to the boil. In a separate bowl whisk egg yolks with sugar and mix in the cream. Fill the pastry case to the brim and grate nutmeg on top. Bake for 30–40 mins or until set. Allow to cool.
My verdict
Delicious but extremely rich. Treat yourself to a moderate slice (rather than the robust slices I ate). You’ll find that it still works well if you reduce the sugar content.
Difficulty: 3/10
Time: 120 minutes
Recipe courtesy of Great British Chefs.
Sunday, August 20, 2017
Easter treats: what are Biddenden cakes?
History Extra
Every Easter Monday, in the village of Biddenden in Kent, a charity doles out tea, cheese and loaves of bread to local pensioners, and distributes hard-baked biscuits, known as Biddenden cakes, to villagers and visitors alike.
Stamped on each cake is a representation of the ‘Biddenden maids’, conjoined twins from the 12th century who supposedly left money in their wills to found the charity. Joined at hip and shoulder, the twins, usually named as Eliza and Mary Chulkhurst, are said to have lived to their thirties and died within six hours of one another in 1134.
There is little evidence, though, that the Chulkhursts actually existed and the earliest account of what is probably a legend was only published in 1770.
Answered by: Nick Rennison
Every Easter Monday, in the village of Biddenden in Kent, a charity doles out tea, cheese and loaves of bread to local pensioners, and distributes hard-baked biscuits, known as Biddenden cakes, to villagers and visitors alike.
Stamped on each cake is a representation of the ‘Biddenden maids’, conjoined twins from the 12th century who supposedly left money in their wills to found the charity. Joined at hip and shoulder, the twins, usually named as Eliza and Mary Chulkhurst, are said to have lived to their thirties and died within six hours of one another in 1134.
There is little evidence, though, that the Chulkhursts actually existed and the earliest account of what is probably a legend was only published in 1770.
Answered by: Nick Rennison
Friday, August 4, 2017
Sam’s historical recipe corner: Vanilla ice cream
History Extra
In every issue of BBC History Magazine, picture editor Sam Nott brings you a recipe from the past. In this article, Sam recreates vanilla ice cream - a dessert enjoyed by an 18th-century US president.
US president Thomas Jefferson’s love of ice cream is well documented, and led to its huge popularity in the US. Jefferson was in France between 1784 and 1789 and brought back lots of exciting recipes – pigs’ feet, fruit tarts, peach flambe – including this recipe. His hand-written ice cream recipe – the first of its kind in the US – still survives today.
Traditionally ice cream would have been frozen using a salt and ice technique. I’ve included this method for those readers who fancy trying some fun food chemistry.
Ingredients
• 6 egg yolks
• 2 pints of cream (I used 1 of single and 1 of double)
• 250g caster sugar
• pinch salt
• 2 tsp of vanilla or one vanilla pod
• ice and salt (if you’re using this freezing method)
Method
Beat the egg yolks until they are thick and a pale yellow colour. Add the sugar and a pinch of salt.
Pour the cream into a pan and bring to the boil. Take off the heat and slowly pour into the beaten egg mixture. Put over a pan of simmering water (or bain-marie) and let it slowly thicken until it has the consistency of custard.
Strain the mixture through a fine sieve into a bowl. Add the vanilla and allow to cool.
Freezing using ice and salt: You’ll need a plastic tub with a lid for the ice cream, and a larger container (a small bucket is ideal) for the crushed ice and salt (three parts ice to one part salt). Put the ice cream tub into the ice and salt mixture and shake every hour or so to stop ice crystals forming. The ice and salt should react, drawing heat away and freezing the ice cream more quickly.
Freezing using a freezer: Put the tub of ice cream mix in the freezer and after around an hour give it a really good mix to get rid of any ice crystals. Continue to whisk every hour or so until the ice cream has set.
Verdict
I did try the ice and salt method but I must have got my ratios wrong as it didn’t seem to set – that, or I was getting a bit impatient! I ended up popping the mix into the freezer and stirring periodically. The result was worth all the effort, though: a really indulgent vanilla treat.
Difficulty: 5/10
Time (including freezing): 6 hours
Recipe courtesy of DigVentures
In every issue of BBC History Magazine, picture editor Sam Nott brings you a recipe from the past. In this article, Sam recreates vanilla ice cream - a dessert enjoyed by an 18th-century US president.
US president Thomas Jefferson’s love of ice cream is well documented, and led to its huge popularity in the US. Jefferson was in France between 1784 and 1789 and brought back lots of exciting recipes – pigs’ feet, fruit tarts, peach flambe – including this recipe. His hand-written ice cream recipe – the first of its kind in the US – still survives today.
Traditionally ice cream would have been frozen using a salt and ice technique. I’ve included this method for those readers who fancy trying some fun food chemistry.
Ingredients
• 6 egg yolks
• 2 pints of cream (I used 1 of single and 1 of double)
• 250g caster sugar
• pinch salt
• 2 tsp of vanilla or one vanilla pod
• ice and salt (if you’re using this freezing method)
Method
Beat the egg yolks until they are thick and a pale yellow colour. Add the sugar and a pinch of salt.
Pour the cream into a pan and bring to the boil. Take off the heat and slowly pour into the beaten egg mixture. Put over a pan of simmering water (or bain-marie) and let it slowly thicken until it has the consistency of custard.
Strain the mixture through a fine sieve into a bowl. Add the vanilla and allow to cool.
Freezing using ice and salt: You’ll need a plastic tub with a lid for the ice cream, and a larger container (a small bucket is ideal) for the crushed ice and salt (three parts ice to one part salt). Put the ice cream tub into the ice and salt mixture and shake every hour or so to stop ice crystals forming. The ice and salt should react, drawing heat away and freezing the ice cream more quickly.
Freezing using a freezer: Put the tub of ice cream mix in the freezer and after around an hour give it a really good mix to get rid of any ice crystals. Continue to whisk every hour or so until the ice cream has set.
Verdict
I did try the ice and salt method but I must have got my ratios wrong as it didn’t seem to set – that, or I was getting a bit impatient! I ended up popping the mix into the freezer and stirring periodically. The result was worth all the effort, though: a really indulgent vanilla treat.
Difficulty: 5/10
Time (including freezing): 6 hours
Recipe courtesy of DigVentures
Sunday, April 30, 2017
Sam’s historical recipe corner: Tiger nut balls
History Extra
In every issue of BBC History Magazine, picture editor Sam Nott brings you a recipe from the past. In this article, Sam recreates a healthy snack thought to have been enjoyed in Egypt around 3,500 years ago.
If you, like me, have a sweet tooth but are trying to be healthier then try tiger nut balls.
I found lots of references to this being one of the first Egyptian recipes that we know of, found written on an ancient ostraca (inscribed broken pottery) dating back to 1600 BC. Although I haven’t found a definitive source for this (or why tiger nut balls don’t contain tiger nuts!) they sounded too delicious to pass over. As your average ancient Egyptian seems to have had a very sweet tooth and often added dates and honey to desserts, I like to think that this is a sweet that would have been made thousands of years ago.
This recipe is very straightforward, requires no cooking and is a lot fun to make (ideal for younger members of the household who might want to help).
Ingredients
• 200g fresh dates (I used dried, which worked really well)
• 1 tsp cold water
• 10–15 walnut halves
• ¼ tsp of cinnamon
• small jar of runny honey
• 75g ground almonds
Method
Chop the dates finely (use seedless, or make sure to remove the stones first) and put them into a bowl. Add the water and stir. Then mix in the chopped walnuts and the cinnamon.
Shape the mixture into small balls with your hands. Dip the balls in honey (I warmed it first so the honey coating wouldn’t be quite so thick) then roll the balls in the ground almonds.
Chill them in the fridge for half an hour before serving.
BBC history Magazine team verdict:
“Like historic energy balls.”
“I think Tiger nut balls roar with flavour.”
“They’re as indulgent as a chocolate truffle!”
Difficulty: 1/10
Time: 45 mins
Recipe courtesy of Cook it!
In every issue of BBC History Magazine, picture editor Sam Nott brings you a recipe from the past. In this article, Sam recreates a healthy snack thought to have been enjoyed in Egypt around 3,500 years ago.
If you, like me, have a sweet tooth but are trying to be healthier then try tiger nut balls.
I found lots of references to this being one of the first Egyptian recipes that we know of, found written on an ancient ostraca (inscribed broken pottery) dating back to 1600 BC. Although I haven’t found a definitive source for this (or why tiger nut balls don’t contain tiger nuts!) they sounded too delicious to pass over. As your average ancient Egyptian seems to have had a very sweet tooth and often added dates and honey to desserts, I like to think that this is a sweet that would have been made thousands of years ago.
This recipe is very straightforward, requires no cooking and is a lot fun to make (ideal for younger members of the household who might want to help).
Ingredients
• 200g fresh dates (I used dried, which worked really well)
• 1 tsp cold water
• 10–15 walnut halves
• ¼ tsp of cinnamon
• small jar of runny honey
• 75g ground almonds
Method
Chop the dates finely (use seedless, or make sure to remove the stones first) and put them into a bowl. Add the water and stir. Then mix in the chopped walnuts and the cinnamon.
Shape the mixture into small balls with your hands. Dip the balls in honey (I warmed it first so the honey coating wouldn’t be quite so thick) then roll the balls in the ground almonds.
Chill them in the fridge for half an hour before serving.
BBC history Magazine team verdict:
“Like historic energy balls.”
“I think Tiger nut balls roar with flavour.”
“They’re as indulgent as a chocolate truffle!”
Difficulty: 1/10
Time: 45 mins
Recipe courtesy of Cook it!
Thursday, March 2, 2017
A brief history of how we fell in love with caffeine and chocolate
History Extra
A heated debate in a coffee house on Bride Lane, Fleet Street in London, c1688. (Photo by Hulton Archive/Getty Images)
These everyday beverages, so integral to British life, all originally came from far-flung regions: coffee from the Arabian peninsula, tea from China, and chocolate from Mesoamerica. By a strange coincidence, all arrived on our shores almost simultaneously during the middle of the 17th century, causing much debate about their benefits (or otherwise) to the health of the nation.
Here, Melanie King, the author of Tea, Coffee & Chocolate: How We Fell in Love with Caffeine, explores the origins of our obsession with caffeine and chocolate…
We may think of the 1650s as a time of puritanical austerity, with the banning of holly wreaths and the closing of theatres. But it was during these years of austerity that tea, coffee, and chocolate first went on sale in Britain.
The first cup of coffee appears to have been served in 1650, in the Angel Inn in Oxford, where an enterprising Jewish merchant began the long tradition of seeing students through their exams. The first cup of hot chocolate came seven years later, when in 1657 an advertisement informed the public that they could enjoy “an excellent West Indian drink called chocolate” at a house in Queen’s Head Alley, Bishopsgate. One year later, a “China drink, called by the Chineans Tcha,” was advertised as being sold at the Sultaness Head Coffee-House by the Royal Exchange. Tea was still an exotic novelty three years later, when Samuel Pepys reported in his diary that he had a cup of tea, “of which I had never drank before”.
The sudden arrival of these three new beverages, all from distant foreign parts, immediately became the source of much curiosity, anxiety, and debate. Entrepreneurs extolled their health benefits, while sceptics made equally dubious announcements about their supposed harmful effects. For example, a 1664 treatise by a tea merchant, entitled An Exact Description of the Growth, Quality and Vertues of the Leaf Tea, confidently claimed that tea “vanquisheth heavie Dreams, easeth the Brain, strengthneth the Memory”, while making the body “active and lusty”. As Pepys discovered, apothecaries recommended cups of tea as a decongestant. Coffee was also widely promoted as a ‘cure-all’. A 1660 advertisement by James Gough, who sold coffee in Oxford, stated that coffee had so many advantages that “it would be too tedious to nominate everything it is good for”. He nevertheless proceeded to give potential customers a long list that included consumption, gout, spleen, dropsy, rheumatism, headaches, and digestion. It was also effective, he pointedly noted, in banishing drowsiness in “students or others who are to sit up late, or all night”. One of the grandest claims for coffee, made in 1721, was that it stopped the spread of the bubonic plague.
Chocolate, meanwhile, was promoted by various treatises, advertisements, and poems, such as In Praise of Chocolate by James Wadsworth (who wrote under the compelling pseudonym Don Diego de Vadesforte). A “lick of chocolate”, Wadsworth claimed, not only helped women to get pregnant but, nine months later, eased the pains and length of childbirth! The cosmetic effects were equally irresistible: “Twill make Old women Young and Fresh.” Little wonder that fashionable women were soon sipping chocolate in bed, assisted by a special vessel, the mancerina, that prevented them from spilling the liquid onto their sheets.
Such bold claims about these new drinks did not go unchallenged. Equally vocal bands of detractors blamed the beverages for undermining the health, morale, and industry of the nation. The fact that they were to be drunk hot became a source of concern, since hot liquids were believed to boil the blood and therefore upset the balance of the four humours [the ancient Greek theory that the health of the body was controlled by four bodily fluids – blood, yellow bile, black bile, and phlegm]. The perils of drinking hot liquids were graphically illustrated by a Fellow of the Royal Society, Dr Stephen Hales, who studied the effects of dipping a suckling pig’s tail in a cup of tea.
Smart gentlemen drinking, smoking and chatting in a coffee house, c1668. (Photo by Rischgitz/Getty Images)
Other alarming claims were made about tea drinking: it supposedly enfeebled the spirits, dried the brain, caused people to commit suicide, and led to a drop in productivity among workers, since even the lowliest labourers, as one opponent furiously noted, downed tools to enjoy a cup of tea. Coffee fared little better – it was denounced in a poem as a “decoction of the devils”, while a 1661 broadsheet claimed that it made men effeminate. In 1674, another broadsheet elaborated the effects of coffee on masculine performance, deploring this ‘heathenish liquor’ for making men unable to discharge their conjugal duties. The women of Britain were, as a result of their men sipping coffee, “languishing in an extremity of want”.
If coffee was suspect because it came from ‘heathen’ lands – the Middle East – chocolate raised suspicions because it was associated with Catholics: the Spanish monks and conquistadors who had been the first Europeans to sample and export it. Its use in Aztec rituals (it sometimes served as a substitute for blood) was also a cause for suspicion. A physician and naturalist named Martin Lister noted that chocolate may have been a suitable drink for “wild Indians” but was hardly one for the “pampered” British.
In the 1660s, chocolate even played a part in a high society sex scandal, when one of the mistresses of the Duke of York (the future James VII and II), Lady Denham, fell ill and died. The poet Andrew Marvell reported that the venom had apparently been administered in a cup of “mortal Chocolate”. An autopsy ruled out any toxin, though it also claimed (as the sceptical Samuel Pepys noted) that she had died a virgin.
Despite their many opponents, all three beverages – tea, coffee, and hot chocolate – became an established part of the British diet, and advice was quickly produced on how best to prepare and enjoy them. The philosopher and courtier Sir Kenelm Digby suggested that tea should be steeped for no longer than it took to recite Psalm 51 (about three minutes).
Pasqua Rosee, an Armenian immigrant who ran London’s first coffee shop, offered advice on how to make and drink a cup of coffee: the grounds should, he said, be boiled with spring water, the liquid then drunk on an empty stomach with no food taken for an hour afterwards. A recipe from 1667 recommended mixing coffee powder with equal quantities of butter and salad oil, proving that today’s trends such as bulletproof coffee – a mixture of coffee and butter – are nothing new. Meanwhile a doctor named Benjamin Moseley suggested that those suffering from flatulence or scurvy might wish to add mustard to their coffee.
Coffee was often consumed in coffee houses, which in London became venues for gossip, political debate and, in the eyes of the authorities, sedition. A publication entitled Rules and Orders of the Coffee House pointed out that, in these establishments, “people of all qualities and conditions” gathered, with no consideration for ranks or titles. Charles II grew so worried about the subversive political effects of coffee houses that in 1675 he ordered their closure. Such was the public indignation that within days he was forced to rescind his proclamation. Within a few decades, by the early 18th century, there were around 3,000 coffee houses in England.
Chocolate, too, was drunk in special establishments. Unlike coffee, it was not a democratic drink that catered to all ranks of society. More expensive than both tea and coffee, chocolate became the drink of the affluent. Consequently, chocolate houses – White’s, Ozinda’s, and the Cocoa Tree – were found in the aristocratic area around Pall Mall in London. Chocolate was often spiced up with exotic ingredients. It was used for dipping wigg bread (a bread spiced with cloves, nutmeg and caraway seeds), and it might be stirred into wine, brandy, port, or sherry. Pepys’s first encounter with chocolate was in a tavern where, as a hangover cure, it was mixed with his morning draft of wine.
Odd as some of these complaints and prescriptions might seem to us today, the health benefits of coffee, tea, and chocolate are still today the subject of much debate and scientific study. We may not have broadsheets anymore, but the internet is full of testimony about the pros and cons of drinking coffee; the fat-burning and cancer-fighting properties of green tea; and the cholesterol-lowering and memory-boosting powers of chocolate. These three drinks have as strong a hold on us as ever.
Melanie King is a freelance writer of historical non-fiction. Her book Tea, Coffee & Chocolate: How We Fell in Love with Caffeine (Bodleian Publishing) is out now.
A heated debate in a coffee house on Bride Lane, Fleet Street in London, c1688. (Photo by Hulton Archive/Getty Images)
These everyday beverages, so integral to British life, all originally came from far-flung regions: coffee from the Arabian peninsula, tea from China, and chocolate from Mesoamerica. By a strange coincidence, all arrived on our shores almost simultaneously during the middle of the 17th century, causing much debate about their benefits (or otherwise) to the health of the nation.
Here, Melanie King, the author of Tea, Coffee & Chocolate: How We Fell in Love with Caffeine, explores the origins of our obsession with caffeine and chocolate…
We may think of the 1650s as a time of puritanical austerity, with the banning of holly wreaths and the closing of theatres. But it was during these years of austerity that tea, coffee, and chocolate first went on sale in Britain.
The first cup of coffee appears to have been served in 1650, in the Angel Inn in Oxford, where an enterprising Jewish merchant began the long tradition of seeing students through their exams. The first cup of hot chocolate came seven years later, when in 1657 an advertisement informed the public that they could enjoy “an excellent West Indian drink called chocolate” at a house in Queen’s Head Alley, Bishopsgate. One year later, a “China drink, called by the Chineans Tcha,” was advertised as being sold at the Sultaness Head Coffee-House by the Royal Exchange. Tea was still an exotic novelty three years later, when Samuel Pepys reported in his diary that he had a cup of tea, “of which I had never drank before”.
The sudden arrival of these three new beverages, all from distant foreign parts, immediately became the source of much curiosity, anxiety, and debate. Entrepreneurs extolled their health benefits, while sceptics made equally dubious announcements about their supposed harmful effects. For example, a 1664 treatise by a tea merchant, entitled An Exact Description of the Growth, Quality and Vertues of the Leaf Tea, confidently claimed that tea “vanquisheth heavie Dreams, easeth the Brain, strengthneth the Memory”, while making the body “active and lusty”. As Pepys discovered, apothecaries recommended cups of tea as a decongestant. Coffee was also widely promoted as a ‘cure-all’. A 1660 advertisement by James Gough, who sold coffee in Oxford, stated that coffee had so many advantages that “it would be too tedious to nominate everything it is good for”. He nevertheless proceeded to give potential customers a long list that included consumption, gout, spleen, dropsy, rheumatism, headaches, and digestion. It was also effective, he pointedly noted, in banishing drowsiness in “students or others who are to sit up late, or all night”. One of the grandest claims for coffee, made in 1721, was that it stopped the spread of the bubonic plague.
Chocolate, meanwhile, was promoted by various treatises, advertisements, and poems, such as In Praise of Chocolate by James Wadsworth (who wrote under the compelling pseudonym Don Diego de Vadesforte). A “lick of chocolate”, Wadsworth claimed, not only helped women to get pregnant but, nine months later, eased the pains and length of childbirth! The cosmetic effects were equally irresistible: “Twill make Old women Young and Fresh.” Little wonder that fashionable women were soon sipping chocolate in bed, assisted by a special vessel, the mancerina, that prevented them from spilling the liquid onto their sheets.
Such bold claims about these new drinks did not go unchallenged. Equally vocal bands of detractors blamed the beverages for undermining the health, morale, and industry of the nation. The fact that they were to be drunk hot became a source of concern, since hot liquids were believed to boil the blood and therefore upset the balance of the four humours [the ancient Greek theory that the health of the body was controlled by four bodily fluids – blood, yellow bile, black bile, and phlegm]. The perils of drinking hot liquids were graphically illustrated by a Fellow of the Royal Society, Dr Stephen Hales, who studied the effects of dipping a suckling pig’s tail in a cup of tea.
Smart gentlemen drinking, smoking and chatting in a coffee house, c1668. (Photo by Rischgitz/Getty Images)
Other alarming claims were made about tea drinking: it supposedly enfeebled the spirits, dried the brain, caused people to commit suicide, and led to a drop in productivity among workers, since even the lowliest labourers, as one opponent furiously noted, downed tools to enjoy a cup of tea. Coffee fared little better – it was denounced in a poem as a “decoction of the devils”, while a 1661 broadsheet claimed that it made men effeminate. In 1674, another broadsheet elaborated the effects of coffee on masculine performance, deploring this ‘heathenish liquor’ for making men unable to discharge their conjugal duties. The women of Britain were, as a result of their men sipping coffee, “languishing in an extremity of want”.
If coffee was suspect because it came from ‘heathen’ lands – the Middle East – chocolate raised suspicions because it was associated with Catholics: the Spanish monks and conquistadors who had been the first Europeans to sample and export it. Its use in Aztec rituals (it sometimes served as a substitute for blood) was also a cause for suspicion. A physician and naturalist named Martin Lister noted that chocolate may have been a suitable drink for “wild Indians” but was hardly one for the “pampered” British.
In the 1660s, chocolate even played a part in a high society sex scandal, when one of the mistresses of the Duke of York (the future James VII and II), Lady Denham, fell ill and died. The poet Andrew Marvell reported that the venom had apparently been administered in a cup of “mortal Chocolate”. An autopsy ruled out any toxin, though it also claimed (as the sceptical Samuel Pepys noted) that she had died a virgin.
Despite their many opponents, all three beverages – tea, coffee, and hot chocolate – became an established part of the British diet, and advice was quickly produced on how best to prepare and enjoy them. The philosopher and courtier Sir Kenelm Digby suggested that tea should be steeped for no longer than it took to recite Psalm 51 (about three minutes).
Pasqua Rosee, an Armenian immigrant who ran London’s first coffee shop, offered advice on how to make and drink a cup of coffee: the grounds should, he said, be boiled with spring water, the liquid then drunk on an empty stomach with no food taken for an hour afterwards. A recipe from 1667 recommended mixing coffee powder with equal quantities of butter and salad oil, proving that today’s trends such as bulletproof coffee – a mixture of coffee and butter – are nothing new. Meanwhile a doctor named Benjamin Moseley suggested that those suffering from flatulence or scurvy might wish to add mustard to their coffee.
Coffee was often consumed in coffee houses, which in London became venues for gossip, political debate and, in the eyes of the authorities, sedition. A publication entitled Rules and Orders of the Coffee House pointed out that, in these establishments, “people of all qualities and conditions” gathered, with no consideration for ranks or titles. Charles II grew so worried about the subversive political effects of coffee houses that in 1675 he ordered their closure. Such was the public indignation that within days he was forced to rescind his proclamation. Within a few decades, by the early 18th century, there were around 3,000 coffee houses in England.
Chocolate, too, was drunk in special establishments. Unlike coffee, it was not a democratic drink that catered to all ranks of society. More expensive than both tea and coffee, chocolate became the drink of the affluent. Consequently, chocolate houses – White’s, Ozinda’s, and the Cocoa Tree – were found in the aristocratic area around Pall Mall in London. Chocolate was often spiced up with exotic ingredients. It was used for dipping wigg bread (a bread spiced with cloves, nutmeg and caraway seeds), and it might be stirred into wine, brandy, port, or sherry. Pepys’s first encounter with chocolate was in a tavern where, as a hangover cure, it was mixed with his morning draft of wine.
Odd as some of these complaints and prescriptions might seem to us today, the health benefits of coffee, tea, and chocolate are still today the subject of much debate and scientific study. We may not have broadsheets anymore, but the internet is full of testimony about the pros and cons of drinking coffee; the fat-burning and cancer-fighting properties of green tea; and the cholesterol-lowering and memory-boosting powers of chocolate. These three drinks have as strong a hold on us as ever.
Melanie King is a freelance writer of historical non-fiction. Her book Tea, Coffee & Chocolate: How We Fell in Love with Caffeine (Bodleian Publishing) is out now.
Monday, February 27, 2017
Sam’s historical recipe corner: Custard tart
History Extra
Custard tart - a regal dessert fit for any dinner table. (Credit: Sam Nott)
In every issue of BBC History Magazine, picture editor Sam Nott brings you a recipe from the past. In this article, Sam recreates custard tart - a rich dessert that has graced royal tables through the ages.
Custard tarts really are the food of and queens. They were served at Henry IV’s coronation in 1399 and more recently at Queen Elizabeth’s 80th birthday in 2006. In medieval times the tarts (also known as doucetes and darioles) could include pork too – dinner and pudding in one! Custard recipes go back to Roman times, but I used Marcus Wareing’s Queen’s birthday banquet version.
Ingredients For the pastry:
• 225g flour + pinch of salt
• Zest of one lemon • 150g butter
• 75g caster sugar
• 1 egg and 1 egg yolk
For the filling:
• 9 egg yolks • 75g caster sugar
• 500ml whipping cream
• 2 nutmegs
Method
Preheat oven to 170°C/gas mark 3. Add salt, lemon zest and butter to the flour and mix between fingertips until it resembles breadcrumbs.
Add sugar, then the beaten egg and extra yolk, and form into a ball. Wrap in clingfilm, chill in a fridge for 1-2 hours, then roll out on a floured surface to 2mm thick.
Use to line an 18cm flan ring, placed on a baking tray, and cover with greaseproof paper and baking beans. Bake for 10 mins or until pastry starts to go golden brown. Remove, then cool. Reduce oven to 130°C/gas mark 1.
Bring the cream to the boil. In a separate bowl whisk egg yolks with sugar and mix in the cream. Fill the pastry case to the brim and grate nutmeg on top. Bake for 30–40 mins or until set. Allow to cool.
My verdict
Delicious but extremely rich. Treat yourself to a moderate slice (rather than the robust slices I ate). You’ll find that it still works well if you reduce the sugar content.
Difficulty:
3/10 Time: 120 minutes
Recipe courtesy of Great British Chefs.
For a medieval version of the same recipe see Cook's Info.
This article was first published in the November 2014 issue of BBC History Magazine.
Custard tart - a regal dessert fit for any dinner table. (Credit: Sam Nott)
In every issue of BBC History Magazine, picture editor Sam Nott brings you a recipe from the past. In this article, Sam recreates custard tart - a rich dessert that has graced royal tables through the ages.
Custard tarts really are the food of and queens. They were served at Henry IV’s coronation in 1399 and more recently at Queen Elizabeth’s 80th birthday in 2006. In medieval times the tarts (also known as doucetes and darioles) could include pork too – dinner and pudding in one! Custard recipes go back to Roman times, but I used Marcus Wareing’s Queen’s birthday banquet version.
Ingredients For the pastry:
• 225g flour + pinch of salt
• Zest of one lemon • 150g butter
• 75g caster sugar
• 1 egg and 1 egg yolk
For the filling:
• 9 egg yolks • 75g caster sugar
• 500ml whipping cream
• 2 nutmegs
Method
Preheat oven to 170°C/gas mark 3. Add salt, lemon zest and butter to the flour and mix between fingertips until it resembles breadcrumbs.
Add sugar, then the beaten egg and extra yolk, and form into a ball. Wrap in clingfilm, chill in a fridge for 1-2 hours, then roll out on a floured surface to 2mm thick.
Use to line an 18cm flan ring, placed on a baking tray, and cover with greaseproof paper and baking beans. Bake for 10 mins or until pastry starts to go golden brown. Remove, then cool. Reduce oven to 130°C/gas mark 1.
Bring the cream to the boil. In a separate bowl whisk egg yolks with sugar and mix in the cream. Fill the pastry case to the brim and grate nutmeg on top. Bake for 30–40 mins or until set. Allow to cool.
My verdict
Delicious but extremely rich. Treat yourself to a moderate slice (rather than the robust slices I ate). You’ll find that it still works well if you reduce the sugar content.
Difficulty:
3/10 Time: 120 minutes
Recipe courtesy of Great British Chefs.
For a medieval version of the same recipe see Cook's Info.
This article was first published in the November 2014 issue of BBC History Magazine.
Tuesday, February 14, 2017
How to make 17th-century chocolate for Valentine's Day
History Extra
To make Chocolate
Take your Choco Nutts and put them over the fire either In earthern pott, or kettle or frying pan keeping them stirring with a brass spoone till they be very hott and of black browne, then take them and pull of[f] the shells with your fingers. They must look of a black colour though not to[o] much burnt.
Then you must pound them in a great iron or brass mortar and seeth [sieve] them through a fine lawne [linen] seeth [sieve], and soe pound them againe and soe seeth it till all getts through, then take two pound of the powder and three quarters of a pound of good white sugar about 5d or 6d per pound being seethed [sieved] all one as the Choco Nutts, then put a Nuttmeg and half and ounce of Cinnamon and pound it well together and seeth it as herein before mentioned and to each pound of Choco Nutt the like quantity.
When you have mixt it altogether, take your mortar and putt it on the fire and make it pretty hott and take the pestle also, then putt the stuff in it and beat it till it comes to a smooth past[e], then take it out and weigh it into Quarters of pounds then Roll it round in your hands and putt it on a Quarter of sheet of paper and take the paper into your two hands and chafe it up and down till it comes to a short Roll.
English medical notebook, 1575-1663 (Wellcome Library MS.6812, p.137)
To make Chocolate
Take your Choco Nutts and put them over the fire either In earthern pott, or kettle or frying pan keeping them stirring with a brass spoone till they be very hott and of black browne, then take them and pull of[f] the shells with your fingers. They must look of a black colour though not to[o] much burnt.
Then you must pound them in a great iron or brass mortar and seeth [sieve] them through a fine lawne [linen] seeth [sieve], and soe pound them againe and soe seeth it till all getts through, then take two pound of the powder and three quarters of a pound of good white sugar about 5d or 6d per pound being seethed [sieved] all one as the Choco Nutts, then put a Nuttmeg and half and ounce of Cinnamon and pound it well together and seeth it as herein before mentioned and to each pound of Choco Nutt the like quantity.
When you have mixt it altogether, take your mortar and putt it on the fire and make it pretty hott and take the pestle also, then putt the stuff in it and beat it till it comes to a smooth past[e], then take it out and weigh it into Quarters of pounds then Roll it round in your hands and putt it on a Quarter of sheet of paper and take the paper into your two hands and chafe it up and down till it comes to a short Roll.
English medical notebook, 1575-1663 (Wellcome Library MS.6812, p.137)
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