Eliza's first stop was the Jersey Market shed between Second and Front streets where she was hoping to purchase some freshly picked apples. They arrived at her favorite fruiterer's stall and she surveyed the colorful, artfully arranged produce. The apples she was seeking were neatly piled into baskets in front, surrounded by displays of pears, plums, a few melons, and some late-season blackberries and raspberries. Just then the bells began ringing to announce that selling could begin. A crowd had already formed, but she was a well-known customer and therefore one of the first served. She carefully chose some Newtown Pippins, making sure their skins were smooth and unblemished. After paying the fruiterer, she lined the bottom of her son's basket with the rosy, sweet-smelling fruit and they proceeded through the covered stalls to the wagon that sold her favorite dairy items.
Newly laid eggs, tubs of butter, and crocks of soft cheese were attractively displayed, brought into town that morning from a cool springhouse. Anna, the Pennsylvania German woman selling the goods, smiled and nodded her head in greeting as she filled orders, while her daughter Polly shyly offered small cubes of creamy pale yellow cheese as samples to customers. Anna knew Eliza would want some of her fine butter, eggs, and cream and so quickly and expertly began to package them up. First she filled the shiny butter kettle Eliza had brought along and then carefully protected the several eggs Eliza required for the day's baking by gently layering them in some straw and nestling them in her basket. Next she took Eliza's crock, poured in some rich cream, and tightly sealed the lid. As Eliza reached in her pocket for a few coins, Anna held up a finger to wait a minute, and quickly reached around to grab a small cherry tartlet for Robert to nibble. She placed it in his hand, flashing a wide smile. He grinned back and murmured a shy “thank you.” Anna was also selling peach butter, sauerkraut, sausage, and a variety of freshly baked cakes, doughnuts, and pies, and gestured in their direction to see if Eliza was interested. She smiled back, but shook her head no. She was in a rush to get to her final stop, the butcher, so she paid for her purchases and hurried on.
Although the market was a busy place, it was all very organized and orderly. Some folks were short on time, like Eliza, but nobody pushed or jostled, and many finely dressed women strolled slowly about, browsing while servants followed behind them, toting market baskets. Eliza and Robert continued through the covered marketplace, pausing at the open alley between the stalls to see a few horses tied to hitching posts, twitching their tails to shoo away some late-summer flies. These side alleys were roped off on market days to prevent horse and carriage traffic from entering the covered sheds. Through the alley they could see some street vendors strolling about with their carts and wheelbarrows getting ready to peddle their wares: waffles, fresh fruit, cakes, bread, and muffins.
When they reached the butcher Eliza preferred, fresh cuts of beef, pork, mutton, veal, and dressed poultry hung from the hooks of his stall. It was the poultry she wanted, as she was planning to teach the students in her cooking school how to make chicken fricassee later that day. As with the other merchants, she was well acquainted with the butcher, and he made sure she was able to purchase three fine birds already dressed, which he assured would be delivered to her Dock Street shop later that morning.
She had brought Robert to help carry everything. With her shopping list complete, they headed home to prepare for her students' arrival and the day's cooking lessons.
Now, almost two hundred years later, this type of shopping is coming back into fashion. While farmers' markets in America never entirely went away, the convenience of supermarket shopping took over in the twentieth century. However, buying fresh and local (and now organic) foods is more and more popular as consumers seek to reduce their carbon footprint, food miles, and pesticide use, as well as support local farmers and preserve heirloom foods and traditions.
Taste is of course another huge benefit in using fresh, quality ingredients and was Mrs. Goodfellow's main objective, although she didn't have much of a choice in how she obtained her food. Living in a city, she could not easily grow her own produce or make her own butter and cheese. She had to shop at the local markets and was limited to what was sold there and what was imported from other locations.
However, luckily for her, nineteenth-century Philadelphia was a treasure trove of foodstuffs. In addition to the locally produced fruits, vegetables, dairy products, and meats, an abundance of exotic foods such as bananas, pineapples, and coconuts worked their way up the east coast of North America from the Caribbean, and citrus fruits such as lemons and oranges, as well as the Madeira wine favored by Thomas Jefferson, were shipped from Lisbon, Portugal.
Until the mid-1800s, Philadelphia's commercial success was very much determined by its port location along the Delaware River. The time right after the Revolutionary War was a particularly prosperous period for the city as it served as the temporary capital of the United States from 1790 to 1800, becoming a hub of political and trade activity for the new nation. A precursor to today's busy train stations and airports, Philadelphia's waterfront was the site of constant motion, bringing both people and merchandise to and from the city.2 This was highly beneficial to Mrs. Goodfellow and her business.
The large variety and quantity of foods available in Philadelphia allowed her to be extremely selective regarding the quality of the food she bought and used. This alternative was not available to many people in the early 1800s, and it definitely worked out to Mrs. Goodfellow's advantage. She felt very strongly that in order to turn out the best tasting and most visually appealing products, only the finest quality food items must be used in making them. She likewise would have wanted her students to learn using the best possible ingredients, and it is likely she developed marketplace connections to obtain the groceries needed to teach the lessons in her school.
Even before Philadelphia was laid out or settled, William Penn had the notion to create a wide main thoroughfare where markets could be held on regular days of the week under certain restrictions and rules, similar to the high-street shopping areas so popular in England. Prior to this, no town or city in the American colonies had a similar convenience for its residents. Because of the markets, people began to refer to the area as Market Street, and the name was officially changed from High Street to Market Street in the 1850s.3
The markets quickly became a favorite meeting place and focal point for Philadelphia town life. Since the market sheds were under cover, shoppers could browse freely in all kinds of weather, lingering to chat with friends and neighbors. It was a place to gossip and share news, and surely many ladies looked forward to their marketing as a result.
Along the sides of these sheds were heavy counters with padlocked cabinets underneath where the merchants could store amenities such as stools, baskets, measures, and wooden trays. Children enjoyed running along the counters when they were empty, jumping across the frequent breaks.4
Ladies and gentlemen, followed by their servants, would often sample goods before making a purchase. Taking a coin, they would skim a pat of butter at each stall until they found one that met their standards for taste and freshness. Operating under strict regulations, the markets were monitored by inspectors who seized items thought to be unwholesome and fined the respective sellers. For example, if a pound of butter looked small, they would weigh it; and if found to be underweight, it would be taken away and given to Pennsylvania Hospital to be used there. In addition, no smoking, vehicles, or animals were allowed in the market houses or stalls.5
Since Wednesdays and Saturdays were traditionally market days, traffic from the surrounding farms to Philadelphia would become heavy on Tuesdays and Fridays with Conestoga wagons carrying produce for the next day's market. Farm families would pile into the wagons with the goods, bringing blankets and food to camp overnight. These wagons were considered the freight cars of Pennsylvania—huge and heavy with monstrous wheels sometimes a foot wide. Shaped something like a boat, they were painted a bright red and blue and covered with white cloth tops. T
hen in these evenings prior to market day the bells of Christ Church (also referred to as the “butter bells”) were rung to remind residents the following morning would be their chance to shop.6
Market rules prohibited these farmers from selling any goods on their way into Philadelphia, and the hucksters and peddlers who bought their wares and then resold them outside the market area had to wait until the market was open for at least two hours before trolling the city with their handcarts.
Although attending these vast markets may have been commonplace for Philadelphians, to those from out of town, it was a wonder to behold. Visitors would eagerly rise early with city residents to view the variety of items for sale beginning at 6 A.M., from newly picked flowers to fresh produce, dairy, and meats, as well as baked goods from the Pennsylvania German farm kitchens.7
One visitor in 1818 thought that the Philadelphia markets probably offered for sale the largest amount of fruits and vegetables in the world. The market began on the banks of the Delaware River and continued for a mile along High Street toward the city center. In addition to the produce brought in on wagons from surrounding farms, goods were also transported via river boats and ships from faraway locations. Light carts carried fish from New York and Burlington, New Jersey, which were packed in ice during the summer.8
Steam ferry boats were first used to cross the river in about 1810, allowing vehicles and passengers to travel between Camden, New Jersey, and Philadelphia.9 Later in the century produce from western Pennsylvania was shipped by canal through the mountains to a mule-drawn railway which ran down High Street north of the market houses, all the way to Dock Street. The goods were then taken to warehouses near the Delaware River where the produce was shipped or distributed.10
The Fish Market was located right near the wharf area on the river. Fish, eel, and shellfish (oysters, clams, and lobsters) were sold here. Behind this, going toward the center of the city was the Jersey Market, which was filled with New Jersey produce, including herbs, vegetables, peaches, apples, plums, strawberries, and grapes. Beef, pork, and other farm-raised meats were sold in the meat section inside the market house. In addition, hunters brought game and wild fowl from the forest to sell; it was not unusual for wild turkeys to weigh twenty-five pounds or more, but these quickly became scarce as the area developed.11
On a visit to Philadelphia in the late 1820s, Frances Trollope of London remarked,
I was particularly requested to visit the market of Philadelphia, at the hour when it presented the busiest scene; I did so, and thought few cities had anything to show better worth looking at. The neatness, freshness, and entire absence of everything disagreeable to sight or smell, must be witnessed to be believed. The stalls were spread with snow-white napkins; flowers and fruit, if not quite of Paris or London perfection, yet bright, fresh, and fragrant; with excellent vegetables in the greatest variety and abundance, were all so delightfully exhibited, that objects less pleasing were overlooked and forgotten. In short, for the first time in my life, I thought a market a beautiful object.12
Although the market was a busy place, with people milling about in all directions, it was unusually calm. Both the buyers and sellers were quiet and polite as they went about their business; folks did not argue with each other. Friendly conversation and genial laughter were the typical noises. One visitor said it was like “a market of brothers.”13
New York, Boston, Baltimore, and later Washington, D.C., had similar food markets, but Philadelphia's were continually referred to as the best in the country, and indeed often the world. The variety of foods for sale as well as the cleanliness of the stalls received the highest praise.14 A visitor to the New York City markets in 1825 quipped that the “neatness and order fell below that of the Philadelphia market.”15
And in 1802 when comparing Philadelphia's markets to those in Baltimore, Philadelphia merchant Thomas P. Cope wrote in his diary, “It does one good to walk thro' the Jersey Market and observe the spruce appearance of the blooming Quaker girls who came there to sell the various products of their industry. The nicely rigged, bucksome lass from Chester County with her butter wrapped in cloths as white as the driven snow and stored in a vessel as carefully scoured as if to serve at a wedding is a sight which, however grateful, you would in Baltimore look in vain.” Cope also noted the contrast of the “decent appearance” of the butchers housed in the spacious, well-constructed Philadelphia Market House to the disgusting process in Baltimore by which “joints of veal and mutton were thrown in jumbled confusion and without much regard to cleanliness” on top of a dirty cloth strewn on the pavement.16
Indeed, the Philadelphia butchers must have been impressive to those lucky enough to experience the marketplace, as these gentlemen and their wares consistently got positive reviews from nineteenth-century observers. In 1826, Mrs. Anne Royall could have been describing the meat counter at a modern-day gourmet grocery: “Nothing can exceed the whiteness of the benches and stalls; the meat, which consists of every sort, is exquisitely neat, cut with the greatest care, smooth, as disposed upon tables, on cloths as white as the whitest cambric. The butchers wear a white linen frock, which might vie with a lady's wedding dress.”17
Another visitor in 1820, James Flint, appreciated the cleanliness and civility of the market vendors: “If a speck is to be seen on the white apron of the butcher, it may be inferred that it came there on the same morning,” he wrote. He described how girls arrived to the market on horseback or driving light wagons to sell their produce or dairy products. “Many of these females, I am told, are the daughters of farmers who are in good circumstances,” he remarked. “Here are none of the lazzaroni hucksters of fruit and sweet-meats, that form such a deplorable spectacle in the finest cities of Britain.”18
But even Philadelphia's market was limited by the seasons. Produce would have obviously been more bountiful in warmer months, but the summer heat would also cause meats and dairy products to go bad more quickly. While visiting Philadelphia in 1807, British citizen Charles Janson observed that because of climate differences, U.S. residents had fashioned seasons for the “articles of life” which were barely perceived in London.19 Another Englishman, Isaac Weld, was amazed how Eastern U.S. summers could taint meat in just a day, poultry was usually killed only four hours before it was needed, and milk often spoiled in just one or two hours.20
However, in true Quaker fashion, the thrifty Philadelphians devised a way to enjoy the morning's milk that had turned to curd by the evening. They called it “bonny clabber,” and served it with honey, sugar, or molasses. Some likened it to custard, and the ladies were particularly fond of it.21
In the 1820s and 1830s, improvements in ice harvesting made the ice business more profitable and large companies were formed in northern U.S. cities. Shipments of ice to southern locales also increased, but because of transportation costs ice shipments and icehouses were more common in the North.22
Thomas Moore patented the first domestic icebox in 1803, which enabled city residents to keep perishables such as meat, dairy products, and fruit cold and fresh. Iceboxes were usually one wooden box inside another, with an insulating material in between. A tin container at the top held the ice and the lower one kept the food. Blocks of ice were sold in baskets, and would only last about a day, even inside the insulated icebox.23 A drip pan on the bottom caught the melting water. This was emptied when full and new ice was added.24
Although iceboxes throughout the nineteenth century were simple and inefficient, the ability to have ice at home year-round greatly changed American eating and drinking habits. Larger amounts of perishable foods could be purchased at a time, and ice cream and other cold desserts were more easily crafted.25
By 1840 Eliza Leslie described refrigerators as “conveniences no family should be without.” She even suggested that households should have two—one for dairy products and one for meats.26 Although prices for these luxury appliances could range from twenty to two hundred dollars, they soon became a fixture in Ameri
can homes.
It is not known when Mrs. Goodfellow first utilized an icebox in her shop and school. She surely would have purchased one by the time she moved her business to Washington Square in the 1840s, as it was advertised as a fancy cake bakery and ice cream saloon. Refrigeration would have also made her teaching much easier, giving her the ability to keep some perishable items on hand.
Regardless of when Mrs. Goodfellow gained access to home refrigeration, her primary and most alluring ingredient did not need to be kept cold. The key factor in her success was sugar.
Initially considered a precious spice, sugar was kept under lock and key like saffron, cinnamon, and cumin.27 The art of manufacturing confections and sweet preparations was mainly limited to the apothecaries and physicians of Europe as a way to disguise their medicines.28
By the late 1600s, demand for sugar was so strong that it began to be seen as a type of food, rather than a spice, medicine, or flavor enhancer,29 and the making of confectionery for pure enjoyment purposes developed into a separate and distinct business.30 As a result, sugar cane became the most significant tropical export during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, supporting the early colonial empires of the Dutch, French, and English.31
Britons especially developed a sweet tooth, and the nation would go to great lengths to obtain sugar for its citizens. While initially monopolizing the sugar industry, exporting twice as much as it consumed, Britain eventually began importing and consuming more and more sugar, and exporting very little.
By the 1700s sugar was a symbol of economic power and luxury, not only for Europeans, but also for colonial Americans.32 The British Quakers and Germans who settled Philadelphia were both heavy sugar users and pastry bakers, and brought their sweet-making expertise with them, as did the French once they arrived. They opened pastry shops, also known as “confectioners,” in America starting in the eighteenth century. The sweets they sold were very much luxury items,33 such as preserved and candied fruit, syrups and fine sugar work, as well as small pastries and cakes. Some were made by the confectioners themselves, and some were imported from the West Indies or London.34
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