Abraham Lincoln in the Kitchen
Page 10
There was a slight hitch to adapting Harrison’s flour and bacon fat to my usual short crust method that calls for ice-cold water and hard shortening. Harrison and Lincoln were eating in June and July. I took another clue from Harrison’s description of their cooking equipment, “kneading tray furnished by ourselves,” and figured the men simply mixed the fat with flour using their hands. Four tablespoons of bacon fat, cooled so it was just turning white, mixed perfectly with one cup of flour. As to cooking technique, I opted for a modification. I didn’t have a rifle ramrod, but I did find an old auger in the back of the garage—an advantage of living in a 125-year-old house. This rusty two-foot-long piece of iron was about the right diameter—a half inch—to replicate Harrison and Lincoln’s method. I covered it with aluminum foil and wrapped the snake of dough around it, then propped it up over the low wood fire and waited. And waited. And waited even longer. Harrison was right; this was a very slow method. I unwound the still slightly raw dough from the “ramrod” and placed it on the grill over the lingering coals. About fifteen minutes later, we did indeed have a most esculent bread.
As to main dishes, militia volunteers made use of what they could find as they moved through the land of small, panic-abandoned farms set in northern Illinois and southern Wisconsin forest clearings. Apparently, the men went hungry rather than engage in widespread hunting. Maybe lead to make bullets was scarce. Possibly they were under orders not to shoot as the retort might make others in the area think they were under attack. Or perhaps the wildlife abandoned the area as well as the farmers. Harrison made much of one hunting success: “Once in particular, after stretching our rations nearly four days one of our mess shot a dove, and having a gill of flour left, we made a gallon and a half of delicious soup … this soup we divided among several messes that were hungrier than we were and our own mess.”
Here was a recipe that demanded to be tried. The ingredients and the method are very clear. I substituted a Cornish game hen from the grocery freezer section for the dove and was pleasantly surprised at the result. There was more water to meat than I usually use when making chicken soup. The amount of flour, equal to a half cup, thickened the soup the slightest bit. The meat from the “dove” stretched farther that I thought. All in all, an edible soup even without benefit of salt, pepper, or other seasonings.
There were also bigger birds to prey upon. Harrison described the men raiding a chicken coop and capturing scrawny hens and roosters. The family who settled on this northern Illinois farm had “skedaddled for fear of losing their scalps.” The hungry band of volunteers took advantage of the unfed chickens before them. They tried simply cooking them over the fire, but then took a notion to fry them in some grease rendered from a hog jowl Harrison had found up in the rafters of the smokehouse. It provided just enough to make the tough fowl as acceptable as “eating saddle bags.” The chickens we get in the grocery are nowhere near as tough and skinny as those half-starved chickens were, but I wondered how the combination of grilling and then frying in bacon fat would taste. The result was quite good, but very messy to make. In the recipe at the end of the chapter, I’ve adapted the concept, pairing the chicken and bacon in a much more succulent dish than the men of Lincoln’s mess would have had, but the flavor combination is very good, especially cooked over a wood fire.
Lincoln and Harrison were discharged from the army in July near Whitewater, Wisconsin. The trip home was slightly more than two hundred miles. The two made most of the journey on foot because their horses were stolen the evening before they departed. They were not the only men of the company who walked home. Members of their company did share rides from time to time, but Harrison reported that the horses’ backs were “too sore from constant riding.” In Peoria, the company split up and Lincoln and Harrison bought a canoe. Taking up a new mode of travel for “a novelty,” they paddled along on the slow current of the Illinois River. At one point they overtook a raft and were invited aboard for a feast of “fish, corn bread, eggs, butter and coffee; just prepared for our benefit.” They sold the canoe in Havana, Illinois, and walked the rest of the way, with Harrison stopping at Petersburg and Lincoln continuing on to New Salem and his first election campaign for a seat in the Illinois legislature.
BATTER PUDDING
This has been the trickiest recipe in all of my Lincoln cookery research. With just five ingredients, batter pudding is simple to mix. But it can be challenging to cook successfully. I wrote of my frustrations with the traditional boiling method in the text. When baked in the oven, the pudding puffs up, rather like a popover. Patience is key for serving: if you cut it before it cools, the inside may be too damp and doughy. The compromise method of steaming works well, but you are stuck in the kitchen for the hour it takes the pudding to cook through. Yet for all the issues, this is a dessert worth trying. Its simple taste makes a lovely base for fresh berries or vinegar sauce. Pumpkin butter would be tasty spooned over it as well.
¾ cup milk
1 ¼ cups unbleached all-purpose flour, plus extra for sprinkling
¼ teaspoon baking soda
⅛ teaspoon salt
1 egg, lightly beaten
Pour the milk into a mixing bowl and gradually stir in the flour, mixing with a fork. Stir in the baking soda and salt. Mix in the egg. Boil, bake, or steam the pudding following one of these methods:
TRADITIONAL BOILING METHOD: Fill a large stockpot about two-thirds full with water and bring to a boil. Meanwhile, dip a heavy pudding cloth or linen-like dishtowel in the boiling water and then sprinkle well with flour on one side: this will form a seal between the boiling water and the pudding batter. Shake off excess flour. Lay the cloth floured side up on the work surface. Pour the pudding batter onto the center of the cloth, gather up the edges of the cloth, and tie them up at the top securely with a long piece of kitchen string. Make sure you leave some room for the batter to swell inside the cloth. Lower the pudding into the boiling water, extending the end of the string outside the pot so you have a way to pull the pudding out of the pot. Wrap the end of the string around a wooden spoon and balance the spoon across the top of the pot. Keep the water at a strong simmer for 1 hour. Pull the pudding out to check if it is done. Press lightly on the side of the cloth; if the pudding rebounds, loosen the string and stick a skewer or thin knife into the pudding. If it comes out clean, the pudding is done. If not, tie it up again and return to the boiling water for as long as another hour. Remove from the water. Let cool before unwrapping and slicing.
MODERN BAKING METHOD: Preheat the oven to 350°F. Pour the batter into 2 lightly greased small loaf pans. Bake until firm in center and the pudding has just begun to pull away from the sides of the pans, about 45 to 55 minutes. The pudding will rise up and then fall when removed from the oven. Cool completely before breaking into serving pieces.
STOVETOP STEAMING METHOD: You will need: a 1-quart heatproof pudding bowl or casserole; waxed or parchment paper; kitchen string; and a deep pot with a lid large enough to comfortably hold the pudding bowl or casserole. You will also need a trivet to keep the bowl off the bottom of the pot. (I improvised with iron flower-arranging frogs.) Lightly grease the pudding bowl and add the batter. Lightly grease a piece of waxed paper, lay it across the top of the bowl, and tie in place with the string. Lower the bowl into the pot. Add enough boiling water so the water comes about halfway up the bowl. Maintain a strong simmer until the pudding is done, adding more boiling water as needed. Check the pudding with a skewer after about 45 minutes. (You can stick the skewer through the waxed or parchment paper.) If the skewer comes out clean, the pudding is done. If not, continue cooking until the skewer comes out clean. This could take another half hour.
Boiled pudding is best served with a sauce such as vinegar sauce, pumpkin butter, or fruit.
Makes 1 round pudding or 2 small pudding loaves, for 6 to 8 servings
ADAPTED FROM “BATTER PUDDING,” MISS ELIZA LESLIE, SEVENTY-FIVE RECEIPTS FOR PASTRY, CAKES, AND SWEETMEATS, 1828.
&nb
sp; APEES
Caraway seeds have long been known as digestive aids and breath sweeteners. Combined with cinnamon and other aromatic spices in this crispy treat, the resulting cross between a cookie and a cracker will quickly become a family favorite. Apees are “good keepers,” staying delicious for weeks—assuming they last that long in your cookie jar.
2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour, plus extra for dusting
½ cup sugar
¾ teaspoon ground cinnamon
¾ teaspoon freshly grated or ground nutmeg
¾ teaspoon ground mace
1 ½ tablespoons caraway seeds
½ cup (1 stick) cold salted butter
⅓ cup white wine
Preheat the oven to 350°F. Combine the flour, sugar, and spices in a mixing bowl. Cut the butter into the dry ingredients with a pastry cutter or 2 knives until the mixture looks like uncooked oatmeal. Stir in the wine with a fork and then knead the dough with your hands. Roll out the dough on a lightly floured surface to a ⅛-inch thickness. Cut into 1 ¼-inch rounds. Place on ungreased baking sheets and prick the tops with a fork two or three times. Bake until lightly browned, about 20 to 25 minutes. Apees shrink as they bake.
Makes about 7 dozen small cookies
ADAPTED FROM “APEES,” MISS ELIZA LESLIE, SEVENTY-FIVE RECEIPTS FOR PASTRY, CAKES, AND SWEETMEATS, 1828.
PINT CAKE
This cake is named for the “pint” of bread dough the baker would set aside from her normal multi-loaf batch to make the cake. Before chemical leaveners such as baking soda, cakes were made light with beaten egg whites, which must have been touch-and-go baked in the beehive or Dutch ovens of the day. The clever addition of sweet ingredients to already-in-progress bread dough gave the homemaker two-for-one results.
This cake is similar to Federal-era, yeast-raised cakes such as the “Election Cake” from Amelia Simmons’s American Cookery, recognized as the first American cookbook. The recipe appears in the 1796 second edition. Tradition has it that these sturdy, satisfying cakes were served to voters and those counting the ballots well into the night in Connecticut elections. Back then ballots from around the state were brought to the state capital, Hartford, for tabulation and the official announcement of results. Later cookbooks frequently called this recipe “Old Hartford Election Cake.”
This pint cake recipe appeared in the Sangamo Journal, the Springfield newspaper Lincoln might well have read in New Salem.
A WORD ON YEAST: Today bread bakers don’t have to worry about keeping their supply of yeast happy and alive between bread-baking days. We can just tear open a packet of dry instant yeast. The rapid-rise variety is so reliable you don’t even have to proof it by mixing it with warm water as the first step. If you are used to this method, you can certainly use it for this recipe. Call me old-fashioned, but I still like to proof my yeast. There’s something about the yeasty smell as it develops that I enjoy, so I’ve written directions with that step in mind.
FOR THE BREAD DOUGH (JUST ENOUGH TO MAKE 1 PINT CAKE):
1 packet instant rapid-rise yeast
1 tablespoon sugar
¾ cup warm water
2 ½ cups unbleached all-purpose flour
FOR THE CAKE BATTER:
1 cup raisins, coarsely chopped
3 large eggs, lightly beaten
1 cup packed light or dark brown sugar
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
½ teaspoon ground allspice
Combine the yeast, sugar, and warm water in a glass measuring cup. Let stand for about 5 minutes. The mixture should be bubbly and smell “yeasty.” Pour the yeast mixture into a large mixing bowl. Stir in the flour with a wooden spoon. Knead lightly with your hands until you have a slightly sticky dough.
Grease two 8½ × 4½–inch loaf pans and line with parchment paper. In a mixing bowl, combine “cake” ingredients. Gradually knead the cake ingredients into the bread dough. This is a messy process. Or, use a large food processor fitted with dough blade or a standing mixer fitted with a dough hook to accomplish the mixing process. When the dough is thoroughly mixed, divide it in half and place each half in a prepared loaf pan. Set the pans aside in a warm place for about 20 minutes.
Preheat the oven to 350°F. Bake the cakes until they just begin to pull away from the sides of the pans, about 45 to 55 minutes.
TIP FOR SUCCESS: Don’t skimp on the time it takes to mix the bread and cake ingredients. Make sure you don’t have any unincorporated bits of bread dough, because it will rise to the top, bake faster, and form hard lumps in your lovely cake.
Makes 2 cakes, 8 servings each
ADAPTED FROM “PINT CAKE,” SANGAMO JOURNAL, 1832.
JUMBLES
Jumbles are doughnut-shaped cookies formed by rolling little snakes of dough and joining the ends. These cookies are a lot of fun to make. You can make them without the caraway seeds.
It was said that Lincoln read all the available newspapers. We can connect this recipe to him as it appeared in a Springfield, Illinois, newspaper during the time he lived about twenty miles to the northwest in New Salem.
1 ½ cups unbleached all-purpose flour, plus extra for rolling
½ cup sugar, white or firmly packed brown
4 tablespoons (½ stick) cold salted butter
2 teaspoons caraway seeds
1 large egg
2 tablespoons milk or cream
Extra white sugar for cookie topping
Preheat the oven to 350°F. Lightly grease 2 cookie sheets. In a large mixing bowl, stir together the flour and sugar. With a pastry cutter or 2 knives, cut the butter into the flour mixture until it looks like cornmeal. Stir in the caraway seeds.
In a small mixing bowl, beat the egg lightly and then stir in the milk or cream. Pour the egg mixture into the dry ingredients. Stir with a fork and then knead until you have dough that feels like child’s play clay. If mixture is too dry, add more milk a teaspoon at a time.
Divide the dough into 12 equal pieces. On a lightly floured work surface, roll 1 piece of dough into a rope about 18 inches long and the diameter of a pencil. Break off lengths about 3 inches long, slightly taper the ends, and then join them into a ring. Dip the top of this jumble into sugar and place on a prepared cookie sheet. Repeat these steps with the remaining dough. Bake until firm and just beginning to turn golden, about 15 to 20 minutes.
Makes about 6 dozen jumbles
ADAPTED FROM “JUMBLES,” SANGAMO JOURNAL, 1832.
BACON-BASTED MILITIA CHICKEN
This adaptation captures the flavor of the troop’s campfire roasted–fried chicken. Today’s well-fed and grocery store–purchased fowl is considerably more tender than the bird the soldiers in Lincoln’s Black Hawk War company managed to find.
1 whole chicken, about 4 pounds
4 slices bacon, diced
Preheat the oven to 300°F. Split chicken along the spine. Flatten and place skin side up in a roasting pan. Gently lift skin by sliding your hands between the skin and meat. Distribute the bacon pieces evenly over the entire chicken and pat the skin back down. Slow-roast the chicken, basting with the pan juices from time to time, until the skin is slightly transparent and the meat is well done, about 1 hour and 40 minutes. (An instant-read meat thermometer inserted in a thigh will register 165°F.)
Serves 4 twenty-first-century diners (or 10 hungry men of the Black Hawk War company)
RE-CREATED FROM PERIOD SOURCES.
COURTSHIP AND CAKE
THE LINCOLNS’ ROMANCE AND MARY TODD’S ALMOND CAKE
Mary Todd moved to Springfield, Illinois, in October 1839 from Lexington, Kentucky. Two months shy of her twenty-first birthday, Mary was starting a new life in the home of Elizabeth Todd Edwards, her married oldest sister, and, just maybe, looking for a husband among the politicians, lawyers, and strivers in the newly designated state capital. Abraham Lincoln had settled in Springfield two and a half years earlier. He arrived in the town of nearly 2,000 in April 1837 rid
ing a horse borrowed from a New Salem friend. He was twenty-eight years old, a member of the Illinois State Legislature, and a lawyer in practice with John Todd Stuart, Mary Todd’s cousin.
By the time Mary Todd arrived in town, the population had increased to nearly 2,500. The Stuart & Lincoln law practice was busy, and Lincoln spent his free time in a variety of activities. He presented serious lectures to the Young Men’s Lyceum. He went fishing in the streams surrounding Springfield with friends and their sons, and he escorted their daughters and sisters to concerts, plays, and other social events about town. Lincoln encountered Mary Todd at a cotillion in December 1839. “Miss Todd, I want to dance with you in the worst way,” he said asking for a dance. After the evening Mary told one of her cousins, “And he certainly did.”
Todd family tradition suggests that Mary made an almond cake during their courtship and also after they were married. Lincoln is said to have called it “the best cake I ever ate.” When I first saw a recipe for “Mary Todd Lincoln Cake” in a book, I could readily see how the recipe had been adjusted over the years, adapted to newer ingredients, losing its period texture and taste.
As I read more and more about those early Springfield years and the lives of the Lincolns—thought about what was clearly reported, and what wasn’t—I considered that the explanation of their courtship, like the almond cake recipe, has been adapted to modern interpretations. Here, too, the truth may have missed the essential ingredients.