Christmas, 1803 in the Colonies

CHRISTMAS. (1871, January 2). Illustrated Australian News for Home Readers (Melbourne, Vic. : 1867 - 1875), p. 1 Supplement: SUPPLEMENT TO THE ILLUSTRATED AUSTRALIAN NEWS

Merry Christmas, cookery friends!

Preparations for Christmas lunch are in full swing here at my Colonial cottage. As I've researched some of the earliest Christmas celebrations in the Australian colonies, I've come to see just how much my family's traditions are actually those of our nation.

We enjoy roast ham, pork and turkey, and serving platters piled high with roasted and steamed vegetables. The meal concludes with Wild Colonial Grandma's famous Christmas pudding, complete with sixpence coins. She always tries to put enough in for everyone to get one for luck, but probability being what it is, there is always one poor family member who ends up penniless and out of luck.

We are, however, all lucky to not be living in the Sydney colony in 1803, at Christmas-time.

Here are the General Orders from the Acting Secretary about Christmas rations, printed in The Sydney Gazette and New South Wales Advertiser:

Tuesday next being Christmas Day, the Commissary is directed to issue an extra Ration to each person on the Civil and Military Establishment, Constables, Watchmen, and Overseers ; One Pound of Fresh Beef, Half a Pound of Suet, with the addition of Half a Pound of Raisins to each Soldier's Family victualled from the Stores. To such Prisoners receiving a Ration, One Pound of Salt Pork, and One Pound of Flour or Wheat equal thereto,

By Command of His Excellency,

G. BLAXCELL, Acting Sec.

Government House, Sydney,

Dec. 22d, 1804.

 

General Orders. (1804, December 23). The Sydney Gazette and New South Wales Advertiser (NSW : 1803 - 1842), p. 1.


So what festive dishes would you be able to make with these ingredients?

Early colonists, like my family, enjoyed roast meat at Christmas-time; although those prisoners who only got salt pork may have enjoyed it somewhat less.

Suet was most commonly used in puddings, and the presence of raisins makes it a near certainty that most settlers would have cooked themselves a Christmas pudding with these rations.

It gives me a warm historical glow to think that on Christmas day, we too will sit down to a meal of roast meat and Christmas pudding, even if we will have greater variety and abundance of dishes than our Colonial forebears.

What are your family's Christmas food traditions? Are they similar or different to the nation where you live?


P.S. As a little Christmas extra, you can see the earliest mention of Christmas in Australia (that I could find) over on my twitter feed @thecolonialcook.

 

Tastes Like Colonial-Era Deprivation

In  my never-ending quest to find ever-earlier recipes in Australia's newspaper archives, I recently tried to wring blood out of the stone that is this throwaway line:

"If the price of wheat is high, a whole- some bread may be made with the potatoe fibre, and either barley, flour, or oatmeal."

POTATO-FLOUR. (1828, October 10). The Australian (Sydney, NSW : 1824 - 1848), p. 4. Retrieved December 8, 2014, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article36864049

I tried two different variations, based on the two possible dishes that someone in the 1820s might have referred to as ' bread'.

The first attempt was ground oats and grated potato mixed with a little flour and then subjected to my usual process for making a leavened loaf. Though the regular flour and yeast did give it a bit of rise, it was very dense, and as my wife diplomatically put it the texture was "slimy".

The second attempt was ground oats and grated potato shaped into small unleavened cakes and fried, in the manner of griddle cakes or johnny cakes. These were slightly more palatable, although I think this speaks more to the miraculous process of frying than anything else. My wife and I each managed to choke down a few of these, and the verdict from her this time was "filling".
As we sat chewing away at them, I filled her in on their provenance - intended to supplement the diet of some of Australia's earliest colonists, and to stave off the famine that was never far away in the early history of the colonies. My wife looked back down at the hard medallions of carbohydrates and said thoughtfully, "Well in that case, they're pretty good."

So when you compare this dish to starving, it's great. I think that is an excellent illustration of the conditions of deprivation early settlers faced.

If you can get something delicious out of this 'recipe', please let me know!

Very Nice Chocolate Butter

Chocolate butter - eat it on scones, eat it with a spoon.

As I wade through the morass of tersely worded recipes in old Colonial Era newspapers, I find a lot of dishes that have died a natural death. Whether they include poisonous ingredients, unpalatable parts of various beasts, or truly unnecessarily convoluted processes, I am left with a clear impression of why they have not become an Australian classic.

But this recipe is different. When I read the delicious ingredients list and the simple method, all I could think was: Where have you been all my life, chocolate butter?

Now I wouldn’t have thought it possible for someone to not instantly warm to this dish, but my mum, Wild Colonial Grandma, is a tough nut to crack. She, like any good country woman, has strong opinions on every foodstuff, and to her, chocolate is rich.

When I presented her with some of my newly made gooey bounty, she cast a gimlet eye over it, and asked what one did with it. I replied, slightly stunned, that you put it on anything that you thought could do with a bit more butter and chocolate. She was unmoved. Eventually she conceded that it might go well in a pudding or tart. So if you’re looking for serving suggestions (other than “Spoon straight into mouth”) you could start there.

On a historical note, the 1860s was an exciting time for chocolate lovers. Although one might argue that with the caffeine content of chocolate being what it is, chocolate lovers’ are always excited. But in 1847, Joseph Fry – yes, he of Fry’s Chocolate – did something amazing when he added back in some of the cocoa butter that the Dutch had just worked out how to remove from coco beans. By mixing coco powder and coco butter, he created chocolate as we know it today – malleable and ready to be combined with all manner of yummy things in block form. No doubt for the Dutch this was jolly frustrating.

This was the point in history where coco powder and chocolate bars began to diverge, and it was an exciting time of culinary experimentation. And what better ingredient to experiment with than chocolate! Bars of pressed coco solids were still in circulation at this point, though, and from what it says in the recipe I assume that is what is called for. Coco powder (Dutch, if you can get it!) is the best modern equivalent.

Here is the original recipe, from 1865 (Predating Nutella by almost a decade!):

Chocolate Butter—The following is a German recipe, and will be found a very nice compound to eat with bread instead of plain butter. Stir a quarter of a pound of butter over the fire until quite soft and creamy; put two cakes of good Vanilla-flavoured chocolate on a tin plate, and sprinkle them gradually with milk until they become so soft that you can mix them with the butter, then stir them well into it. Serve it cold, in whatever shape you like.

RECIPES. (1865, March 25). The Australasian (Melbourne, Vic. : 1864 - 1946), p. 3.

 

Ingredients

3T coco powder (unsweetened – if you are using sweetened coco add less sugar)

3T caster sugar

1/4t vanilla essence

3T milk

110g (1 stick/ 4oz) butter

A dusting of coco powder for presentation

 

Cooking Time

15 minutes, and that was with a toddler helping. Make of that what you will.

 

Quantity

1 medium jar, or two small serving bowls.

 

Method

Put the coco, caster sugar and vanilla essence in a bowl. Add the milk, and mix until there are no lumps.

Put the butter into a small saucepan, and heat over a very low heat, stirring constantly, until the butter has melted, and has a creamy look. You don’t want it to boil, as this will begin to separate the butter and clarify it. You will get ghee, and “Chocolate Ghee” doesn’t have quite the same ring to it.

Once the butter has melted, turn off the stove, and stir in the coco mixture.

Tip your newly made chocolate butter into the container you want to store it in (you will not need to store it for long, trust me!), and allow to cool. You might use a plastic Tupperware container, or a dish that will look nice on the table. Put it in pretty jars if you would like to give it as a gift.

You can make the top of this dish look prettier by dusting it with coco. To get an even result, shake it on through a sieve.

You can store chocolate butter in the fridge for a few months. I would love to hear from anyone who has resisted eating it long enough for it to go off.

Use on toast, crumpets, or wherever else you would like more chocolate and butter.

 

Note: If you like dark chocolate, add an extra tablespoon of coco. If you are a sweet tooth, add an extra tablespoon or sugar. If you like strong flavours, add an extra tablespoon of both.

 

What did you put your chocolate butter on? I’d love to hear how you used it.

Five Things to do Post-Nanowrimo: A Rebel’s View for ‘Winners’ and ‘Losers’

For those of you who aren’t familiar with NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) is a free yearly event where authors write a 50,000 word manuscript in one month. The heady rush of success on November 31^st is often followed by a December 1^st crash when you suddenly find yourself without a goal. Here are my ideas about how to keep the momentum going.

If completing the first draft of a manuscript has shown me anything, it is just how far away I am from having a published book.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not your clichéd writer wracked with self-doubt and Consumption. When I say that I have a long way to go, I do so with excitement– as this realisation was borne directly from my growing understanding of the process of publication. It meant that even though I had barely left my driveway, I was finally on the road that led to my longed-for destination.

People much further along in their writing journey than I am have already created a great resources about everything from eBooks to cover design. Instead, I am going to focus on what I am doing with the 50,000 words worth of recipes I had managed to produce by the end of November.

1. Celebrate your achievement (and not just if you won).

I have participated in Nanowrimo for five of the last six years, and won twice.

I have learned something valuable from the experience each time, including the year I didn’t participate. That year, I learned that I couldn’t passionately pursue two careers at once, and that I was going to have to choose which to pour my heart, soul, and every waking minute into.

So begin by celebrating what you have achieved, and what you learned in the process.

 

2. Work out why you write.

Now this might seem like too big an ask, or totally irrelevant to the pressing question of what to do in December, but bear with me.

Most of us write for one or more of the following reasons: we just enjoy writing; we think we have an important story or message and we want people to read it; we want to make a living doing something you love; we want fame, glory and riches.

How is this important post-Nano? Well, working out why you write will allow you to proceed in a way that makes you satisfied. If you just love writing, then perhaps you don’t need to do anything with your Nano project, because you’ve already done what you set out to achieve. If you want to get your message out, or make a living wage, then you might consider honing your manuscript while you acquire the multiple skills necessary to self publish. If it’s fame and fortune you want, then start working on getting an agent, because the crapshoot of traditional publishing is your best bet.

 

3. Time to plan!

Now that you know what writerly activity affords you a decent chance at happiness, start planning how you can pursue that path. To get an idea of what the necessary steps might be, I would recommend finding someone who has successfully done what you want to do, and reading as much as you can about how they achieved it. Unbeknownst to them, this person is your mentor.

My unwitting (and possibly unwilling) mentor is Joe Konrath, who runs the blog A Newbie's Guide to Publishing. Although our genres are about as different as you can get (he writes gory horror and crime, while I write historical cookery books), my goal is to self-publish and self-promote, particularly on eBook platforms, and Konrath is the master at this. Reading through his blog archive, I took down pages of ideas, which I then marshalled into a plan of literary attack.

 

4. Make sure you actually execute your plan.

Every month, pick a goal or two from your list, and try your best to achieve it. Every month, not just November. No procrastination, no ‘writer’s block’, just hard work.

Read in your genre and out of it. Upskill yourself in editing, criminal law, food photography, typography, life in Colonial Australia – whatever is relevant. Throw yourself into the thrillingly complex world of being a modern writer.

5. Whatever happens – learn from it.

 

This month my goals are

·       Get into a regular blogging schedule (by the way, thanks for helping with this one!)

·       Write a full business plan

·       Clear my desk so I have a place to write that doesn’t have any kids or dogs on it.

 

What are your December writing goals?

Rough and Ready Bengal Chutney

This should tell you how good the stuff is - when I went to photograph it, this was all that was left.

As Wild Colonial Grandfather would say, this one will put hairs on your chest. In relation to its mild modern equivalent, it is a second cousin, twice-removed, from the dodgy side of the family.

This is not a chutney that Stephanie Alexander would want to invite for high tea. This is a rough Colonial chutney and it will drink all your booze, spit on your floor, and steal your dog on the way out.

Though it does mellow with age, straight out of the gate it gives the impression that the world’s strongest flavours have met in your mouth to settle once and for all which is the toughest. For me, and anyone else who loves a kick in their condiments, this one is a real winner.

It livens up a bland dish like a stick of dynamite, and makes a truly mouth-watering glaze on roast meat or veg.

Of historical interest here is the authenticity of the recipe. Authenticity, in foodie terms, refers to how likely someone from the country of the dish’s origin would be to laugh in your face if you served it to them. Anyone who has been to a country Chinese restaurant and had “fried rice” consisting of mixed frozen vegetables boiled together with long grain rice would be forgiven for thinking that authentic multicultural food is a relatively new, urban phenomenon in Australia.

In reality, the Colonial period saw a brisk circulation of people, goods and ideas among the British colonies. Remember, this was the period when variants of the phrase “The Sun never sets on the British empire” had been so apt for so long that it was considered a cliché. Many colonists came by circuitous routes, such as my Cornish great-great-great uncle Henry Kneebone who arrived here after a thoroughly eventful stint in South Africa. Though there is some substitution of ingredients, this is very much a mid-19^th century Bengali Chatni, right down to its intense saltiness and heat (both of which I have scaled down for Australian tastes – if you want the original, put in a whopping 60g of each).

In the flurry of nation-building gentrification, and homogenisation, that swept across Australia in the first half of the 20^th century, many of these non-English parts of Australia’s history were written out of the national story. Let’s cook them back in.

If your ancestors took an interesting route here, and picked up anything interesting like this recipe along the way, I’d love to hear from you.

Here is the original recipe:

BENGAL CHUTNEE. - The following is an Indian recipe for chutney, generally thought very good: - In this country apples must be substituted for the mangoes, and 2oz. of pounded ginger for the green ginger mentioned in the recipe: - 4lb. good moist sugar, 2lb. salt, 2lb. garlic, 2lb. green ginger, 2lb. mustard, 2lb. raisins stoned, 2lb dried chillies, four   bottles best vinegar, and sixty mangoes. The garlic, chillies, resins, &c., to be pounded together with the salt very fine; the sugar mixed with one bottle of vinegar and made into syrup. The mangoes, or apples, peeled, cut in slices, and boiled in the rest of the vinegar till soft. When cold, mix the whole well together, and bottle or put into pots.

RECIPES. (1869, March 6). The Australasian (Melbourne, Vic. : 1864 - 1946), p. 7.

 

Ingredients

For the seasoning paste:

10g (2 tsp.) salt

25g (2 tbsp.) garlic

25g (2 tbsp.) fresh ginger

25g (2 tbsp.) English mustard

60g (1/4 cup) raisins

2 dried chillies, or 2T (5 tsp.) chilli flakes (this makes a medium heat chutney – the original mouth scorching recipe calls for 60g).

 

For the syrup:

120g (1/2 cup) brown sugar

70ml (2 1/2oz) vinegar

 

For the mangoes:

210ml (7 1/2 oz) vinegar + a dash of water (if necessary to cover the mangoes)

4 mangoes, sliced into 1cm (1/2 an inch) wide strips

 

Cooking Time

1 hour (jolly quick for a preserve), including some cooling time in which you can occupy yourself by counting your socks, walking your granny’s dog, or helping to preserve the Cornish language.

 

Yield

Approximately 3 medium jars, depending on the size of your mangoes. Please note that I scaled this recipe down by 1/15^th, as the original recipe called for 60 mangoes and seemed to be geared towards making enough of the stuff to bathe in. As a consequence, it should scale back up quite well.

Method

Combine all the ingredients for the seasoning paste in a mortar and pestle or a food processor, and blend until only very small pieces of the raisins remain.

Put the brown sugar and vinegar in a non-reactive [hyperlink] pan, and heat very gently just until the sugar has dissolved. Stir it constantly. Once the sugar has dissolved, take the pan off the heat.

Place the mangoes in a non-reactive saucepan, along with the vinegar. If the vinegar is not even close to covering the mangoes, add a dash of water. Cook, stirring occasionally, until the mangoes are tender. Don’t be too gung ho with the stirring though, or you will make mango puree. When the mangoes are done, take the pan off the heat.

Once all the elements are cool (or, if you impatient like me, as cool as they’re going to get), mix them together.

You can start eating your chutney straight away, or you can leave it in the jar for a few weeks to calm down.

Chutney is ideal to serve with meat, on a sandwich, or with a strong cheese. You can also use it as a glaze for roast meat or vegetables – I have particularly fond memories of chutney-glazed baked ham.

Do let me know how you use yours!

Twitter for the Compulsive Citer

Friends, the Colonial Cook is now on Twitter.

As I trawl through Australia's Colonial newspapers, I find many amusing lines or ideas that either aren't cooking related or don't have an associated recipe. Even if they did, they would be far too short to warrant a blog post, which is why I am lead to believe twitter was invented.

So join me on twitter here to receive often-unintentionally humorous dispatches from the 1800s.

This is jolly exciting, but also presents a bit of a problem. And that problem is that I must cite my sources. Academia drilled it into me, and more importantly so did Mrs Taylor - my terrifying year 7 English teacher.

At the end of each tweet I'll include a footnote that will refer back to this post, where you can check out the source if you'd like.

If nothing else, it will make me feel better.

The rather spiffing picture I use for my profile picture (of the goddess Sanitas leaning on a bull, sourced from my hometown rag) can be found here: Advertising. (1896, January 4). The Bacchus Marsh Express (Vic. : 1866 - 1918), p. 1. Retrieved November 18, 2014, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article88345539

1.  The Selctor. (1827, March 27). The Sydney Gazette and New South Wales Advertiser (NSW : 1803 - 1842), p. 4. Retrieved November 18, 2014, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article2187918

2. Advertising. (1866, July 21). The Bacchus Marsh Express (Vic. : 1866 - 1918), p. 1. Retrieved November 19, 2014, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article88374095

3. CORRESPONDENCE. (1866, July 21). The Bacchus Marsh Express (Vic. : 1866 - 1918), p. 2. Retrieved November 19, 2014, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article88374089

4. CORRESPONDENCE. (1866, July 21). The Bacchus Marsh Express (Vic. : 1866 - 1918), p. 3. Retrieved November 19, 2014, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article88374089

Modern Lemon Syrup Made Possible by Science (No Lemons Required)

This recipe is as easy as falling off a log. Only instead of falling on to the cold hard ground, you fall into an ocean of zesty, sweet lemon syrup. The method for this recipe is: measure the ingredients, stir the ingredients, enjoy the deliciousness.

 

So why has a recipe so simple and yummy fallen out of favour?

I think the answer might lie in the changing attitudes towards the ‘processed’ ingredients in this recipe such as lemon essence and citric acid. In the 1860s, these ingredients had just been invented, and as well as being novel they served a real purpose. People without a lemon tree could suddenly use lemon in their cooking. Lemon essence – literally the essence of lemon – could be transported via ship to even the remotest corners of the empire, such as the Australian colonies.

We tend to deride the global food system these days. Though it certainly has its faults, we forget its benefits. We no longer starve en masse if our crops fail (which they still do, regularly) because the slack is taken up by imports from overseas. Imported ingredients have also made possible the incredible richness of food these days, by making ingredients native to disparate parts of the world available for the home cook.

This is a large part of what makes primary historical sources like this so interesting – they bust some of the idealised myths that have built up around past eras. 150 years ago, people were using processed ingredients and they were loving it.

So how is this recipe useful for the modern home cook? It contains no lemons, so you can make this syrup without access to the formerly ubiquitous back yard lemon tree. You also don’t have to purchase any of the rather flavourless and exorbitantly priced lemons that haunt Australian supermarkets for most of the year. This is also a very economical recipe – the two ingredients (citric acid and lemon essence) can be bought for less than $5 at the supermarket.

Here is the original, from 1865:

To four ounces of citric acid add three pints of water, ten drops of essence of lemon, one ounce of spirits of wine, seven and a-half pounds of white sugar. Dissolve the citric acid and sugar with a gentle heat, and, if possible, in an enameled pan. When cold add the essence, previously dissolved in the spirits of wine, and shake well together.

Lemon Syrup. (1865, December 23). The Australasian (Melbourne, Vic. : 1864 - 1946), p. 9.

Modern Lemon Syrup

(No Lemons Required)

 



Ingredients

30g citric acid
850g sugar
425ml water
¼ t lemon essence
2 t wine

Jars for storing, if you intend to store it, and you think you can protect this delicious, delicious syrup from you friends and family. 

Cooking Time

About an hour, because you need to let the syrup cool. But you don’t need to be standing there watching it while it cools. You could be off doing something cool like planting heirloom vegetables or collecting all the stones of Berenziah on Skyrim.

Yield

One bottle for you, one bottle for a close personal friend who shares your love of lemony goodness.

Method

Put the citric acid and sugar in a non-reactive pan. (Note: non-reactive refers to something that will not be stained by, or leach into, food with an acidic ingredient).

Add the water to the pan.

Put the pan onto the stove on low heat – you do not want it to boil as this will put you on the path to making toffee. You just want to syrup to be gently heated while you stir it to help the sugar dissolve.

Soon before it is done, the syrup will become cloudy and you will no longer be able to see if there is still undissolved sugar. Time to use your other senses. Keep stirring until you can’t feel any more sugar granules with the bottom of the spoon, and you can’t hear a scraping sound of the sugar being pushed around the pan as you stir.

Once the sugar is dissolved, take the syrup off the stove. Allow it to cool.

While the syrup is cooling, you now have a bit of time to get the other ingredients ready, and to sterilise your jars (if you intend to keep it for a while – if you don’t think it will last that long, then any container will do).

You can sterilise glass jars in the microwave, the oven, or a pot of water. I find it easiest to use the microwave method, which you can read about here.

Mix the lemon essence and wine together in a separate container. The wine is there to help the lemon essence mix into the syrup rather than just sitting on the top. (Note: the wine will only make the syrup about as alcoholic as a cough lolly, and you will be further diluting it when you serve it).

When the syrup is cool, add the lemon essence and wine mixture. Stir well.

Store the syrup in jars or bottles that you have sterilised.

You can use your delicious new friend in a number of ways, including cocktails, mocktails, baking, and iced tea. You can also use it as cordial – just add some ice cold water and you’re set.