Crag's Tangram essay jokes about yet another way Mrs. Goodfellow may have cleverly endorsed her school. He suggests that in addition to the young beaus who would loiter outside the cooking school gate, waiting for the young ladies to emerge after class, a few gentlemen would actually attend her lessons. Of course this amused the girls a great deal, and Mrs. Goodfellow, with her acclaimed matchmaking abilities, enhanced the lively banter of these young people by proposing the formation of a poetry club. According to Crag, the shrewd Mrs. Goodfellow figured this would also “occasion a more general consumption of her jellies and cheesecakes, and promote the future interest of her establishment.”56
The students were thrilled at the prospect and so Mrs. Goodfellow began to tag her pastries and custards with little epigrams. The students quickly followed her example and placed poems under the pies and puff pastry to be sold in the shop so that “whatever chance customer came in for a six-penny tart, was sure of receiving three-pence worth of wit or poetry with his bargain, so that, when they had emptied the shell, they might have taught their children to read upon the under crust.” Crag alludes that competition raged among the students to best each other with their poems, which entertained city residents a great deal.57
In addition to the “poetry contests,” Crag implies that the young ladies also amused themselves by making miniature dough figures and placing them on the ledges of the windows.58 While there are probably few complete truths within his sardonic essay, Crag's tales about Goodfellow and her school do suggest that she was able to engage and hold the attention of her students, no small feat as they were so often unenthusiastic. And the simple fact that he wrote about her shows her respect and renown.
FIVE
Directions for Cookery
Philadelphia, 64 Dock Street
Wednesday, September 20, 1815
11 A.M.
Mrs. Goodfellow grasped her long wooden peel and reached into the bake oven to retrieve one of the lemon puddings. Using it like a shovel, she carefully placed the peel's flat wedge-shaped end under the dish, balanced the pudding on top and pulled it toward her. Once it was within reach, she used a heavy cloth to grip the hot dish and carry it over to the table. As she gently put it down, a delicious sweet-tart aroma steamed up from its shimmering surface, which was a lovely caramel color. The pastry surrounding the filling was crisply baked and its edges nicely browned. She removed the other pudding from the oven in the same manner as her students watched.
After transferring the puddings to the cooling shelf, she ushered the girls over to the fireplace where she swung the pot containing the artichokes toward her and carefully removed each artichoke with a large tin skimmer—a long-handled slotted spoon that let the water drain away. She placed the artichokes on a serving platter and then covered them with a large rounded lid to keep warm.
Next it was time to check on the simmering chickens. Swinging the heavy pot away from the fire, she tested a few pieces for doneness by carefully lifting them out with a long-handled two-pronged fork and then gently pulling the meat apart with a smaller fork to peer at the inside. They were still a little pink in the middle, which she said was just right, as they needed to cook until almost done.
She then removed all the chicken pieces from the pot and placed them in a large stoneware dish which she covered with a domed tin lid and set near the fire to keep warm. Gesturing for the girls to follow her to the work table, she portioned off a lump of butter, placed it in a large stew pan, and cut it into small pieces with a knife. She then scooped some flour into the pan and rubbed the butter and flour together until the mixture had the consistency of very coarse crumbs. Picking up the crock of cream, she poured half a pint into the pan and whisked it with the flour and butter mixture. Last, she carried the pan over to the fire where she set it on the hot coals.
Gathering the girls around her, she demonstrated how to stir the mixture until all the butter was melted and the sauce began to thicken. She then added the small cheesecloth bag of sweet herbs, mace, salt, and pepper that Hannah had prepared earlier that morning, explaining that the blend would infuse flavor without being overpowering, and the sachet would keep the herbs from scattering throughout the sauce, helping to retain the smooth texture and white color.
Next she skillfully transferred the chicken pieces to the stew pan and let the whole mixture come to a boil, stirring occasionally. She let it gently bubble for a few minutes, and then removed the pan from the heat and took the chicken pieces out, placing them on a large pewter serving platter. A spicy-sweet smell from the juicy meat permeated the air. After arranging the pieces attractively, Mrs. Goodfellow ladled the creamy sauce over them, telling the girls that a few small slices of cold ham could be added to enhance and improve the flavor, especially if serving at a dinner party.
She carefully covered the fricassee with a domed lid to retain heat and placed it on a small bench near the fireplace to keep warm. Wiping her hands on her apron, she then led the students over to the large table in the corner where they would be eating.
When the girls reached the dining area, they saw there were actually two tables. The larger one was a gate-leg style—its two drop leaves (one on each end) were up and supported by extra legs in order to open it to maximum size. On the top of the smaller of the two tables Hannah had prepared a tray containing plates, forks, knives, and spoons, some salt cellars, a folded linen tablecloth, and a stack of linen napkins. A few thick oilcloth table mats had been positioned alongside—one held a large glass pitcher of water, and on the others sat some small dishes of colorful preserves and pickles, including mangoes (pickled melons) and tomatoes. Several tumbler glasses were lined up in two rows on another tray, which was perched on top of a tray stand.
Mrs. Goodfellow picked up the linen tablecloth and gestured for the girls to gather around the larger table. She told them that before they could taste and enjoy the various dishes, she would first give them a brief lesson on proper table-setting techniques. A few barely audible groans escaped from some of the now-hungry girls, but Mrs. Goodfellow ignored this and continued, explaining that for each of the ten cookery lessons in the term she would focus on one aspect of dinner party procedures. She asserted that even though they might be delegating some of these tasks to their servants someday, they still needed to know how a proper table was laid and how to plan and properly host a fine party.
She began by stressing that just as with the food preparation, everything needed to be ready and in good order before starting to set the table to avoid having to stop and clean or fix something halfway through. In addition, she told them it is best to use trays to transport as many items at a time as possible to the dining area.
Pointing out the coarse woolen crumb-cloth that was under the table, Mrs. Goodfellow emphasized that this always gets laid down first and serves to catch any crumbs that fall during the meal. She next started to unfold the heavy linen tablecloth, asking a couple of girls to help her shake it out over the table. As they worked to get it properly situated, she carefully ran her hands along the surface, showing them how it should be a good deal larger than the table it is covering, and must be laid smoothly and evenly, so it is does not hang down more on one side than another. She further advised that it is best to get the highest quality table linen that can be afforded, as those that are fine and thick will last much longer and look nicer than those that are coarse and thin. She told them cloth made of double French damask is the most preferable for tablecloths and napkins since this material is not only fine and thick, but also soft and glossy, like satin, and washes very well.
She then walked over to the smaller table to get the tray of napkins, plates, and utensils and carefully carried it to the big table, situating herself at the head. Picking up the pile of napkins, she passed one to each of the girls, and then taking one herself, she slowly demonstrated how to fold it into a diamond shape, asking the girls to follow along step by step. She walked around assisting any of the students who needed help, and a
s they worked together, Hannah hurried over with two baskets of fresh bread and placed one at each end of the large table.
Once the students had finished creating their “diamonds,” Mrs. Goodfellow handed out the plates, asking the girls to place them around the table, one for every person. She instructed them that plates are set for guests only along the sides, with the two ends reserved for the master and mistress of the house. These two positions require some room around them so they can properly carve the meat dishes, she advised. Elaborating on this concept of spaciousness, she recommended that it is always better to set a table “too large for the company,” positioning guests a comfortable distance apart rather than crowding them at a table that is too small, particularly in warmer weather.
After the plates were set, she began handing out the eating utensils, explaining that the knife and fork go in front of each plate. As the girls arranged the forks and knives, Mrs. Goodfellow told them that when soup is part of the menu, a spoon is included with the other utensils, and soup plates are placed on top of the dinner plates. She then picked up some spoons and walked around the table, laying two at each corner in criss-cross fashion, asking one of the girls to put a salt cellar between each pair of crossed spoons. She then retrieved a pretty basket of ornamental sugar-work from a shelf and placed it in the middle, telling the girls for a company dinner it is customary to have an elegant centerpiece, such as a vase of flowers, or some other decoration that is functional as well as attractive, like a plateau or an epergne dish to display fruit or sweetmeats. Pieces of fancy sugar-work like the type she put on the table can be hired from a confectioner, she added.
Next she walked back to the small table to retrieve the other tray. After putting it down gently, she began handing out the water tumblers to the girls, asking them to put a glass at the right hand of every plate. She told them if they were setting the table for a true evening dinner party, they would also place one or more wine glasses next to the tumblers, depending on the variety of wines on the menu, as different wines are served in different types of glasses. The wine decanters are situated near the table corners, but the water pitcher or pitchers remain on the sidetable, to replenish the glasses when necessary.
At this point she mentioned that setting the side table is as important as preparing the dining table, especially when serving multiple courses, as its function is to hold the overflow of dishes, serving pieces, utensils, and so on, that are needed throughout the meal. That discussion would be covered in another lesson, she assured them.
For the next step, Mrs. Goodfellow instructed each student to pick up her folded napkin diamond and put it at the right hand side of the plate. She then picked up the bread basket closest to her and showed the girls how to remove a piece of bread with a fork. Lifting it out of the basket, she held it up so the girls could see how Hannah had cut the bread into thick oblong blocks. She warned them never to cut bread into slices except for breakfast or tea, and to make sure the basket holds enough bread to supply all the guests with a second piece if needed. She then showed them how to arrange the bread on the napkin, laying it down in the center, covered by one of the corners. Light French rolls could be served instead of pieces of cut bread, she added.
The whole time Mrs. Goodfellow was giving her dinner party instruction, her student Eliza Leslie was diligently taking notes, just as she had during the cooking lessons. In her late twenties, Eliza was older than the other pupils, and also seemed to be already rather well-acquainted with Mrs. Goodfellow, which piqued the interest of her classmates a bit. This combined with her obvious desire to copy everything down caused the other girls to cast sidelong glances her way from time to time, wondering if they were missing something.
As Eliza scribbled furiously, one student could not hold in her curiosity any longer, and she leaned closer to ask Eliza in a low voice why she was keeping such detailed notes. Looking up in surprise, Eliza frowned a bit and whispered back, “There is no loss in having thorough instructions to refer back to when it comes time to prepare a meal.”
The girl nodded and shrugged her shoulders, “I guess so,” she said. She then turned to the girl to her left and murmured what Eliza had just told her. The other girl whispered back she had heard that Eliza's mother ran a boardinghouse, and guessed that was why she took so many notes—she probably had to help with all the meals. The first girl turned toward Eliza again and gave her a quick sympathetic smile before abruptly lifting her gaze back to Mrs. Goodfellow, who had cleared her throat and said, “Girls, please pay attention.”
Actually, the gossipy girl was probably correct—most historians agree that Eliza Leslie's role in assisting with her mother's boardinghouse was likely the real reason she took such copious notes of all Mrs. Goodfellow's recipes during her lessons there. However, it is also a well-known fact that she wanted to be a published author more than anything. Did she have plans all along to try to publish the recipes, or did she seek publication only at the suggestion of her brother (which is what she claimed)? Whatever the case, all her note-taking paid off, as Eliza Leslie ended up writing several cookbooks featuring recipes, techniques, and other household knowledge she learned from Mrs. Goodfellow, making her the most popular cookbook writer in America prior to the Civil War.1
Although Eliza Leslie was born in Philadelphia, her parents, Robert and Lydia Baker Leslie, were originally from Cecil County, Maryland. Eliza's paternal great-grandfather, also named Robert Leslie, emigrated to the United States from Scotland around 1745 and took up farming along Maryland's Northeast River, near an insulated hill called Maiden's Mountain. Eliza's mother's parents were Jethro Baker and Ann Gonson, who was of Swedish descent, prompting her to note that she had no English blood in her background,2 although her brother Charles indicates in his autobiography that his mother's family was from England.3 (They were both correct in a sense—Ann Gonson was indeed Swedish, but her husband Jethro Baker was British.)
In 1785 Lydia Baker married Cecil County native Robert Leslie. The Leslie family lived about a mile north of the village of North East, described by Eliza as being “over against Bulls Mountain.” Not long after their marriage, they moved to Elkton, Maryland, where Robert worked as a clock and watchmaker. After just a year or two in Elkton, the couple moved to Philadelphia in 1786, and Eliza (their first child), was born there the following year.4
Eliza had very fond childhood memories of both her parents. She described her mother as “a handsome woman, of excellent sense, very amusing, and a first rate housewife,” and she proudly depicted her father as a “man of considerable natural genius, and much self-taught knowledge, particularly in natural philosophy and mechanics.” According to Eliza, he was also talented musically and played both the flute and violin, with a special fondness for the Scottish airs he had learned as a child.5
Once in Philadelphia, Robert Leslie's clock and watch-making business prospered. A Pennsylvania Packet advertisement for his shop in June 1787 listed gold, silver, tortoiseshell, and gilt watches for sale. Another announcement touted “Clocks and Time-Pieces, on a new and improved plan, one of which may be seen at his shop, not subject to any visible variation from the different changes in the weather,” as well as clock and watch repairs and improvements.6
By 1788 he expanded his services to offer assistance to any gentlemen attempting philosophical or mechanical experiments with small machines or models. A year later he proposed to establish a museum in Philadelphia to house a collection of models of various kinds of machines used in agriculture, manufacturing, and mechanical engineering. His own inventions included a machine for threshing wheat, a horizontal tide-mill (to work with both tides so boats could sail in any direction), a horizontal windmill (so the wind could act on both sides of the wheel at the same time), and an improvement of the common wheat fan (producing more wind with less labor).7
Leslie's innovative nature captured the attention of George Washington, Benjamin Franklin and Thomas Jefferson, who became his personal friends, and he was e
lected a member of the American Philosophical Society as per Jefferson's recommendation.8 According to Eliza, he suggested a lightning rod improvement to Franklin that was “immediately tested, and afterwards universally adopted.”9 He was also very friendly with Philadelphia's prominent doctors of that time—Benjamin Rush, Benjamin Smith Barton, Caspar Wistar, Philip Syng Physick, and James Mease, and had frequent dealings with the city's illustrious Charles Willson Peale and engineer Oliver Evans.10
In an attempt to further promote his business, Robert went into partnership in 1793 with Isaac Price, who stayed behind in Philadelphia while Robert moved his family to London to sell his mechanical inventions there and purchase clocks and watches for both establishments. While in London, young Eliza took French and music lessons and was given penmanship and drawing instruction by her father.11 Her mother taught her sewing, and she attended classes to learn ornamental needlework. From an early age her passions were reading and drawing, and she quickly read the few children's books available at the time, thus delving into adult works of literature while still very young.12
This love of books then followed her throughout her life, prompting her to first dabble in writing during her preteen years. As she mentions in a letter to her friend Alice B. (Neal) Haven, her earliest writing attempts were verses, specifically songs, tailored to fit the popular airs of the late eighteenth century, about soldiers, sailors, hunters, and nuns. However, by the time she was thirteen or fourteen she began to despise her own poetry and claims to have destroyed it all, abandoning her dream of someday seeing her name in print.13
The Leslies lived in London until 1799 when the death of Isaac Price caused the family to move back to Philadelphia. Unfortunately Price had so poorly managed the business during their absence that Eliza's father found himself embroiled in a lawsuit with the executors of his deceased partner. The laborious legal issues added undue strain to Robert, whose health had been failing, and he passed away in 1803 after a week-long illness.14
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