Mrs. Goodfellow

by Becky Diamond

  So, it is no surprise that the yeast was replaced with baking soda, powder, or both when these time-saving ingredients became available. Other substitutions throughout the nineteenth century included exchanging the nutmeg for other spices (mace, cloves, or cinnamon), using brown sugar instead of white, and combining molasses with sour milk and baking soda in order to make the buns rise. There were also recipes for “Philadelphia buns,” which were basically the same type of sweet bread as Spanish buns but without a spice like nutmeg, cinnamon, or mace.

  By the late 1800s recipes for Spanish buns appeared to evolve into a one-pan “Spanish bun cake,” which can be found in cookbooks from the early twentieth century. The cake was probably another time-saving adaptation as it was always baked in one pan, doing away with the concept of individual tins. Then eventually this version was found less and less throughout the twentieth century, perhaps due to the rising popularity of other types of sweet breads and coffee cakes such as Philadelphia sticky buns—gooey, yeasty rolls swirled with cinnamon and dripping with caramelized brown sugar and walnuts. So while true Spanish bun recipes do crop up occasionally in modern recipe listings (usually in a retrospective section), Goodfellow's recipe reinforced the baked goods popular today as coffee-break and breakfast foods. Present-day recipes for these types of sweet breads often feature sour cream instead of the milk or cream found in the original Spanish buns recipe in order to create a soft, rich dough.

  Other Goodfellow recipes can also be found in published cookbooks and magazines all the way through the beginning of the twentieth century, decades after her passing. While some of these look like they were printed essentially as Goodfellow must have recited them, others were altered to take advantage of modern innovations. In addition to substituting for yeast, chemical leavenings also took the place of eggs in many recipes. Original Goodfellow recipes (and others from the nineteenth century) often call for an enormous number of eggs by today's standards—sometimes upward of a dozen for one cake, such as the recipes for black cake (or plum cake), sponge cake, and jelly cake found in Miss Leslie's Seventy-Five Receipts. (The French almond cake recipe in this cookbook requires fourteen eggs.29) So many eggs were needed to make the cake rise, and at that time eggs were much smaller than today.

  The precursor of modern cupcakes, Goodfellow's fashionable Queen cake recipe, commonly called for ten eggs, beat “very light” or “to a froth” in order to produce a light, airy textured product which was baked in small tins and then fancifully iced. The term “cup cake” was actually first mentioned in print by Miss Leslie in Seventy-Five Receipts. Her cup cake recipe was more of a spice cake or muffin, however, and not iced like the Queen cake recipe listed in the same cookbook.30 “Cup cake” was likely coined from the “Queen cakes” version listed in Maria Rundell's A New System of Domestic Cookery which actually suggests baking the cakes in little teacups or saucers.31 Since this book was supposedly one of Goodfellow's “textbooks” for her students, perhaps she was even the one who came up with the catchy new name.

  Although the recipe continued this way through much of the nineteenth century (using several eggs and baking in small tins), by 1896 the version in Fannie Farmer's Original Boston Cooking-School Cook Book says to use just six egg whites and 1/2 teaspoon soda, and to bake it in a long, shallow pan.32 Then by the turn of the twentieth century, references to Queen cake are not as prevalent. When listed in cookbooks or magazines, the recipes usually call for making the cake in a single pan as Farmer did, pairing baking powder with just a couple of eggs as leavening ingredients. A one-pan cake was quicker and easier for cooks, and using fewer eggs would have been cheaper. However, the idea of fancy individual cakes did not go away, and when made this way they were at first sometimes called Queen cakes (plural), before fully evolving into the widely accepted name of cupcakes, or even fairy cakes, the more diminutive form that are common party-fare in England.

  Another signature Goodfellow recipe that had roots in her school and became wildly successful throughout America was jumbles (sometimes spelled jumbals). A delicately spiced butter cookie, it was one of the first cookie types popularized in America. Although the name “jumbles” is now unfamiliar to most of us, the taste and concept of these treats has become hugely popular, as billions of cookies are devoured every year by over 95 percent of American households. Cookies were first brought to America by Dutch and British immigrants in the 1600s. The English referred to them as small cakes, sweet biscuits, or tea cakes, but it was the Dutch term koekjes, which means “little cakes,” that Americans adapted as “cookie” or “cooky.” Amelia Simmons's American Cookery (1796), which has two recipes for cookies, is generally considered the first American cookbook to use the term.33

  Originally shaped like a figure eight or double ring, the name jumbles comes from the Latin word gemel, which means “twin.” To make preparation quicker and easier, it became customary for Americans to form the dough into single rings.34 By the late nineteenth century, further shortcuts were taken by enterprising cooks who would roll out the dough, cut it into round shapes and then stamp out the middles (like doughnuts). Eventually the ring shape fell out of favor, and jumbles were often simply rolled out and cut into circles.35

  Rich with generous amounts of butter, egg, and sugar, the dough was often seasoned with fresh grated nutmeg (sometimes with cinnamon or mace), as well as rosewater or lemon essence for additional flavoring. In fact, they were sometimes called “rose jumbles,” or “Waverly jumbles,” which was apparently the favorite cookie of President James Monroe.36

  A common fixture in nineteenth-century American cookbooks, jumbles are also one of the most widespread recipes scattered through manuscript cookbooks from the same timeframe. Sometimes several are grouped together with just slight variations, and many are attributed to Goodfellow, so surely they were taught in her school. As expected from Goodfellow's typical approach of following tradition and not cutting corners, her instructions were to form jumbles into the customary ring shape. She must have also used the term “cookies,” since a recipe by this name cites her as the source in the Colonial Receipt Book— although it sounds very similar to jumbles, calling for “a teacup of butter, one of sugar, one egg and flour to roll very thin; flavor with nutmeg. Roll only a few at a time.”37 The small quantities of ingredients show that these cookies were sometimes made in modest batches.

  “Apees” were a type of butter cookie also taught by Goodfellow. According to Eliza Leslie, “Apees were first made by Ann Page, who lived in a small frame house in Second Street, two doors north of Carter's Alley. The name originated from the fact that she marked the cakes with her initials A.P.”38 A nineteenth-century street food sold by Philadelphia vendors, apees were flavored with caraway seeds, wine, cinnamon, and nutmeg. They were actually thick round little cakes similar to German springerle,39 a biscuit-like cookie featuring an embossed design which was made by pressing a mold into rolled dough and then letting it dry before baking. However, instead of the traditional elaborate springerle designs such as wedding scenes, animals, or fruit prints, apees were simply stamped with the letters “A.P.” These types of molded or stamped cookies are not as popular today, at least in the United States, probably because of the amount of time involved to make them.

  Although some years may have been leaner than others for Mrs. Goodfellow, her business was ultimately a successful one—she was even able to expand to a larger and grander Washington Square location in 1835 after a brief stint on South Second Street (her shop and school were there for about five years). At this point she was in her late sixties and likely ready to turn over the reins of her business, or at least get some support with it. Once situated there a few years, she brought her son Robert into the confectionery business, and as partners they transformed the shop into a fancy cake bakery and ice cream saloon. Having her son as a partner may have freed her up from doing some of (or even all) the baking, allowing her to focus solely on the cooking school. In any case, it is likely that she step
ped back in some capacity, or perhaps even retired from the business altogether once they formed the partnership. Surely she still offered advice and input, as well as her famous Goodfellow name, which undoubtedly helped retain and bring in customers.

  Goodfellow had always had upper-class clientele, but this move to Washington Square no doubt increased her business options. With a larger kitchen she and her son could accept more orders, and the eating area would have allowed them to serve a greater number of customers—for example, businessmen and politicians from nearby banks, offices, and government buildings, as well as young couples and families craving an ice cream treat.

  Undoubtedly a pleasant change of scenery for Mrs. Goodfellow, South Sixth Street at this point was residential and parklike, shaded by cool trees and lined with elegant homes, very different than the crowded, noisy, and smelly Dock Street area where she had lived and worked for so many years. Although formerly a potter's field, Washington Square had by the time she moved there in the 1830s become part of Philadelphia's most prosperous neighborhood and the gathering place for the city's elite residents.40

  So the announcement of “E. Goodfellow & Son's Confectionary, Pastry, and Fancy Cake Bakery” in 1837 was timed perfectly with the square's refined new image. The verdant setting would have been ideal for leisurely strolls, with the splendid new store providing a welcoming stop for a refreshing ice cream or pastry as well as a chance to socialize.

  To passersby, the shop would have appeared as an attractive and inviting three-story brick building with beautiful large cased windows featuring double-hung sashes and windowboxes bordered by Venetian shutters. The window sills and front step were made of marble, and the paneled entry door (which was on the north side of the building) featured a glazed transom window over the top. Upon entering the building, customers would have stepped into a vestibule with a marble mosaic-patterned floor set in stone and a Venetian door with a transom and sash widow above that led to the interior of the shop.

  After passing through the entryway, a visitor took a small step up to enter the spacious area which was divided into two rooms (store and saloon) with a neat wooden counter extending across the entire front. Overhead, the high paneled ceilings featured rich stucco molding. The building's windows were expansive, plentiful, and elegant, including an “angle end bulk window having a large light of plate glass” and other windows had many lights (individual panes of glass) within each sash. They must have provided a bright and sunny atmosphere, casting quite a glow on the cypress and pine floorboards and the curving spiral stairway with mahogany post, rail, and balusters which led to the second story. The second and third stories also featured luxurious touches such as marble columns and ornamental wood frieze fireplace mantels, several closets (both side and recessed), a small second-floor balcony and heart pine stairs with rich mahogany newel posts, rails, and balusters. The second floor probably contained bedrooms for Mrs. Goodfellow and the Coane family, with servants taking up residence in the garret rooms on the third floor.

  Descriptions of the rest of the property sound equally impressive, including extravagances such as a piazza and two-story frame bath house. There was a sizable back building behind the store that may have provided more living space for the two families, workspace for the confectionery business and cooking school, and/or additional servant quarters. The survey diagram and description shows a dining room and kitchen on the ground floor with a niche for the stove and a kitchen dresser with doors and drawers. There was a window to provide some light and a back door with a transom window over it. Perhaps this cheery area was where Mrs. Goodfellow provided her cooking instruction; it was no doubt brighter and roomier than her former Dock Street location.

  A flight of winding stairs led down to a large two-room cellar that had two ovens, a kitchen dresser with drawers, and a furnace for warming the stove. This was most likely where the shop's baking, confectionery, and ice cream making took place. (There must have been some sort of refrigeration or icebox for storing the ice cream, fruit, and blancmange, but this is not mentioned.) The back building's second- and third-story rooms included a nursery, another kitchen, and even a room with a bath and water closet and windows framed with Venetian shutters. As with the main building, all rooms are depicted as having many windows, closets, and fancy woodwork.41

  Robert Coane must have been pretty well off to afford this and the similarly lavish house next door, which also featured intricate woodwork, rich marble accents, and impressive windows.42 It is unclear if this provided additional living space for his large household (which numbered seventeen people at the time of the 1850 census—including family, servants, and three professional confectioners) or perhaps he rented it out for extra income. The site of the shop (91 South Sixth Street) is listed as his residence at the time of Goodfellow's death in 1851, and this is probably where she had lived as well.

  After his mother's death, it appears Robert retained the business at this site for just another five years or so, keeping the Goodfellow & Coane name, most likely because it was so well-known. Then for some reason he left the confectionery business in the mid-1850s, perhaps preferring to focus on other interests such as community service and political affairs.43 In the mid-1870s, a few years before he died, he was one of several people who petitioned the Philadelphia Court of Common Pleas to straighten and open Girard Avenue and Twenty-Second Street through the grounds of Girard College in order to help improve and increase property value in the area.44

  So although no other family members continued Mrs. Goodfellow's pastry-making legacy, at least the knowledge was not lost, as her recipes and techniques were passed down by those whom she taught over the years. In addition, the success of her cooking school helped set the stage for other cooking instructors who followed her—from the 1850s up to the present.

  SEVEN

  Modern Cooking Schools

  A city of the palate, Philadelphia has always loved fine food and drink, which represent friendship and hospitality.1 In its early days while it was still the center of American cookery, what happened there (in terms of gastronomy) was watched by everyone else, even New Yorkers.2 But by the time of Mrs. Goodfellow's death, New York had slowly been creeping up behind Philadelphia to take the position of America's premier food city. Pierre Blot, the Frenchman who immigrated to the United States in 1855, took advantage of the city's burgeoning role, carefully exploring its residents' interest in food by giving lectures on the culinary arts and publishing a book in 1863, What to Eat and How to Cook it; Containing over One Thousand Receipts. Then in 1865, he launched the New York Cooking Academy, designating himself as the professor of gastronomy.3

  Blot was determined to raise cooking in America to an art form, using the school (dubbed Blot's Culinary Academy of Design in a New York Times article) as an opportunity to share his ideals. With his sophisticated manner and French education, he quickly became a self-professed authority on the art of cooking. He claimed not only that his dishes were better tasting than typical American fare, but also they were more wholesome and economical. And in the customary French style, he put a great deal of emphasis on plating his recipes attractively before presenting them on the table.4

  Blot has been described as America's first celebrity chef, and indeed he seemed like quite a showman in his teaching manner, although perhaps not quite as animated as the professionals on television today. He was described as pleasant, conversational, and attentive and always ready to take questions from the audience. He explained things simply and clearly, and as noted by a New York Times reporter who sat in on one of his lectures: “He knows, in fact, how to teach.” His classrooms were set up accordingly—the “Academy's” front room on the ground floor (which functioned as a lecture hall) was organized like a stage, with a work table, range, and fireplace at the front. Settees were placed around the lecture area at intervals so all could see, and the day's menu was neatly written on a blackboard above the fireplace.5

  His second-floor kitchen classroo
m was also orderly and practically arranged with a large stove on one side of the room and cooking utensils laid out on a side table. The central work table which contained the chicken, fish, and meats (prepared by Blot's female assistant) was in clear view of the wooden benches where the students sat and observed. Different recipes were demonstrated each day, increasing in difficulty as the lessons progressed. A sample menu for one class included: pot au feu; striped bass; Hullandar's (perhaps hollandaise?) sauce; filet of mutton, larded and braised; roasted chicken au jus; spinach à la crème; turnips (as a garniture for the beef); genoises, with almonds.6 Quite an enterprising agenda for one afternoon.

  The enrollment for Blot's first series of classes was sixty-two students, most of them rich, intelligent women eager to learn not only how dishes should be made, but also how to prepare them for their own families. This was a similar demographic to the pupils who attended Goodfellow's except that Blot's students seemed to want to be there, having signed up on their own accord, not at the urging of their mothers. Another difference was that Blot offered three classes, two for “ladies” of this type and one for servants.7 Domestics might have attended Goodfellow's now and then, but if so, they were probably mixed in with the rest of the students, not in separate classes. (To be fair, Goodfellow did not have a very large operation and she was also running her pastry shop at the same time.) In addition, Blot's attention to budget-conscious cooking eventually attracted women from less affluent households.

  Blot soon became hugely popular, teaching and giving demonstrations throughout the Northeast as well as writing a number of articles on a variety of culinary topics. Unfortunately his reign did not last very long. While his articles were well-received at first, they increasingly depicted American cuisine in a negative light, often with degrading descriptions and comparisons to French cookery, which he considered superior. Blot fell out of favor with the American public by the early 1870s and died in 1874.8