SOUP

It would be a rather fancy party to have a separate soup course, but what the heck, here are a couple of the less complicated potages from Dr. Kitchiner's collection:

Winter Hotch-Potch

Take the best end of a neck or loin of mutton; cut it into neat chops: cut four carrots, and as many turnips into slices; put on four quarts of water, with half the carrots and turnips, and a whole one of each, with a pound of dried green pease, which must be put to soak the night before; let it boil two hours, then take out the whole carrot and turnip; bruise and return them; put in the meat, and the rest of the carrot and turnip, some pepper and salt, and boil slowly three-quarters of an hour; a short time before serving, add an onion cut small and a head of celery.

Cocky-leeky Soup

Take a scrag [neck] of mutton, or shank of veal, three quarts of water (or liquor in which meat has been boiled,), and a good-sized fowl, with two or three leeks cut in pieces about an inch long, pepper and salt; boil slowly about an hour; then put in as many more leeks, and give it three-quarters of an hour longer: this is very good, made of good beef-stock, and leeks put in at twice.

Carrot Soup

Scrape and wash half a dozen large carrots; peel off the red outside (which is the only part used for this soup); put it into a gallon stew-pan, with one head of celery, and an onion, cut into thin pieces; take two quarts of beef, veal or mutton broth...when you have put the broth to the roots, cover the stew-pan close, and set it on a slow stove for two hours and a half, when the carrots will be soft enough (some cooks put in a tea-cupful of bread-crumbs); boil for two or three minutes; rub it through a tamis, or hair-sieve, with a wooden spoon, and add as much broth as will make it a proper thickness; put it into a clean stew-pan, make it hot, season it with a little salt, and send it up with some toasted bread, cut into pieces half an inch square. Some put it into the soup, but the best way is to send it up on a plate, as a side-dish.

We take a vacation from our dedication to historical authenticity by omitting a lengthy discussion on broth-making from roasted meat bones. It is nearly impossible to find a soup recipe from this period that does not involve meat as an ingredient, if only in the form of broth, but if this were to be made with vegetable broth it would be a nice option for any non-meat-eating dinner guests.

CHEESES/APPETIZERS

Toast and Cheese

Cut a slice of bread about half an inch thick; pare off the crust, and toast it very slightly on one side so as just to brown it, without making it hard or burning it.

Cut a slice of cheese (good fat mellow Cheshire cheese, or double Gloster, is better than poor, thin, single Gloster) a quarter of an inch thick, not so big as the bread by half an inch on each side: pare off the rind, cut out all the specks and rotten parts, and lay it on the toasted bread in a cheese-toaster; carefully watch it that it does not burn, and stir it with a spoon to prevent a pellicle forming on the surface. Have ready good mustard, pepper and salt. If you observe the directions here given, the cheese will eat mellow, and will be uniformly done, and the bread crisp and soft, and will well deserve its ancient appellation of a "rare bit."

Dr. Kitchiner makes a joke here, as this recipe is quite identical to the one commonly known as "Welsh rarebit" or by the vulgar as "Welsh rabbit." Trust us, this is a real rip-snorter by the standards of the period. If you think cooking has changed a lot since the 19th century, try looking into their humor some time.

Pounded Cheese

Cut a pound of good mellow Cheddar, Cheshire, or North Wiltshire cheese into thin bits; add to it two, and if the cheese is dry three, ounces of fresh butter; pound, and rub them well together in a mortar till it is quite smooth. Spread on bread. N. B.: The piquance of this is sometimes increased by pounding with it curry powder, ground spice, black pepper, cayenne, and a little made mustard; and some moisten it with a glass of sherry. If pressed down hard in a jar, and covered with clarified butter, it will keep for several days in cool weather.

Pumpkin Chips

It is best to defer making this sweetmeat (which will be found very fine) till late in the season when lemons are ripe and are to be had in plenty. Pumpkins (as they keep well) can generally be procured at any time through the winter.

Take a fine pumpkin of a rich deep colour, pare off the outer rind; remove the seeds; and having sliced the best part, cut it into chips of equal size, and as thin as you can do them. They should be in long narrow pieces, two inches in breadth, and four in length. It is best to prepare the pumpkin the day before; and having weighed the chips, allow to each pound of them a pound of the best loaf sugar. You must have several dozen of fine ripe lemons sufficient to furnish a jill [note: 1 jill = 1/2 cup] of lemon-juice to each pound of pumpkin. Having rolled them under your hand on a table to make them yield as much juice as possible, grate off the yellow rind and mix it with the sugar. Then having cut the lemons, squeeze out all the juice into a pitcher. Lay the pumpkin chips in a large pan or tureen, strewing the sugar among them. Then having measured the lemon-juice in a wine-glass (two common wine-glasses making one jill) pour it over the pumpkin and sugar, cover the vessel, and let it stand all night.

Next day transfer the pumpkin, sugar and lemon-juice to a preserving kettle, and boil it slowly for an hour or more, or till the pumpkin becomes all through tender, crisp and transparent; but it must not be over the fire long enough to break and lose its form. You must skim it thoroughly. The chips should be so thin as to curl up at the ends. When you think it is done, take up the pumpkin chips in a perforated skimmer that the syrup may drain through the holes back into the kettle. Spread the chips to cool on large dishes, and pass the syrup through a flannel bag that has been first dipped in hot water. When the chips are cold, put them into glass jars or tumblers, pour in the syrup, and lay on the top white paper dipped in brandy. Then tie up the jars with leather, or with covers of thick white paper.

If you find that when cold the chips are not perfectly clear, crisp and tender, give them another boil in the syrup before you put them up.

This, if well made, is a handsome and excellent sweetmeat. It need not be eaten with cream, the syrup being so delicious as to require nothing to improve it. Shells of puff-paste first baked empty, and then filled with pumpkin chips, will be found very nice.

To use as appetizers these chips should probably be dried off enough to be handled without making diners' hands all gooey. Pack some up in jars as directed, though, as the batch looks like it should make enough that plenty will be left over, and they will serve as unique handmade gifts. This recipe is from Eliza Leslie's Miss Leslie's Directions for Cookery, 1853

DESSERTS

We promised you figgy pudding, because that's what's in the song. We lied. Apparently, as best we can figure out from our personal collection of more than two dozen 19th century cookbooks as well as online searching, nobody in the Civil War period ever ate a pudding, or anything else for that matter, whose principal constituent was the fig. The best we can do is the following, from The Good Housekeeper by Sarah Josepha Hale, 1841. At least it specifically cites Christmas as the occasion for its making:

Plum Pudding

As Christmas comes but once a year, a rich plum pudding may be permitted for the feast, though it is not healthy food; and children should be helped very sparingly. The following is a good receipt:--

Chop half a pound of suet very fine; stone half a pound of raisins, half a pound of currants nicely washed and picked; four ounces of bread crumbs; four ounces of flour; four eggs well beaten; a little grated nutmeg; mace and cinnamon pounded very fine; a spoonful of salt; four ounces of sugar; one ounce candied lemon; same of citron.

Beat the eggs and the spices well together; mix the milk with them by degrees, then the rest of the ingredients; dip a fine, close linen cloth into boiling water, and place it in a hair sieve; flour it a little, them pour in the batter and tie it up, allowing a little room to swell; put it into a pot containing six quarts of boiling water and fill up your pot as it wastes [evaporates]; be sure to keep it boiling at least six hours--seven would not injure it.

This pudding should be mixed an hour or two before it is put on to boil; it makes it taste richer.

Oh, you noticed the minor ingredient not included in this "receipt"? Yup. Not a plum to be seen anywhere. Apparently truth in advertising laws were not what one might have hoped for back in the Olden Days either. Sigh.

Pumpkin Pie (from the magazine Godey's Lady's Book, 1860)

Take out the seeds, and pare the pumpkin or squash; but in taking out the seeds do not scrape the inside of the pumpkin; the part nearest the seed is the sweetest; then stew the pumpkin, and strain it through a sieve or colander. To a quart of milk for a family pie three eggs are sufficient. Stir in the stewed pumpkin with your milk and beaten-up eggs till it is as thick as you can stir round rapidly and easily. If the pie is wanted richer, make it thinner, and add sweet cream or another egg or two; but even one egg to a quart of milk makes "very decent pies." Sweeten with molasses or sugar; add two teaspoonfuls of salt, two tablespoonfuls of sifted cinnamon, and one of powdered ginger; but allspice may be used, or any other spice that may be preferred. The peel of lemon grated in gives it a pleasant flavor. The more egg, says an American authority, the better the pie. Some put one egg to a gill [note: same thing as the "jill" cited above: 1/2 cup] of milk. [Pour into piecrust and] bake about an hour in deep plates or shallow dishes, without an upper crust.

Now that you have a selection of menu items, we conclude with a description of just precisely what to do with all the goodies you have just cooked. This dissertation presumes that you have an extensive staff of not only kitchen personnel but servants to attend to serving, waiting and cleanup, leaving you only the duties of maestro over the orchestra. Good luck with that part of things:


The Christmas Dinner Party, or, Start by Laying Your Tablecloth Right Side Up

(from The Practical Housekeeper, Mrs. E. F. [Elizabeth Fries] Ellet, New York: Stringer and Townsend, 1857)

"The cloth being laid with its proper side uppermost, I order a napkin, two knives, two prongs, two tablespoons, and two wineglasses to be placed for each person, a saltcellar between every other; that being a condiment which every one uses, though often wrongly; the cruet-frames and other requisites are kept on the sideboards. I then have the fish and soup served together; the potatoes and sauce on the sideboard; I serving the soup, and Mr. B. the fish; and often a little dish of fried fish, such as smelts, &c., to remove the soups. This gives me an opportunity of seeing that my guests are properly attended to, and also leisure to take wine with any gentleman who challenges me. During the time this course has been progressing, the cook has had time to dish up the removes nice and hot, and get all up close to the door, as I like as little time as possible to intervene in changing the dishes; and these consist generally of variously dressed chickens, which I have before me, as this gives an opportunity for the gentleman on my right to display his gallantry; Mr. B., who is a capital carver, either has a saddle or a haunch of mutton, or a quarter of lamb before him, the rest of the dishes consisting of a tongue and entrees. I select those most easy to carve, and also easy for the cook to prepare. This is a period of dinner where a great deal depends upon the attendants; they should know almost by the look what this lady or that gentleman requires, and what kind of vegetables to hand them; a first-rate butler should be able to judge by the physiognomy to whom he should offer mint sauce with the lamb, and who prefers cayenne; on their attention and hot plates depends the success of the substantial part of the dinner.


"As soon as I see that all are served, and words are few in consequence of the organ which utters them being employed in another way, I give a look to the two servants which they understand, and immediately two reports are heard--they are from two bottles of champagne, opened at the same time by the attendants, who have each a salver with six glasses on it; this takes but a short time to serve, and prepares the palate for the entrees, which generally get praised; indeed, my cook would think something was wrong if two of the dishes did not go down empty. By having the champagne thus, I find it goes much further than if only one bottle was opened at the time, there being sufficient left in the bottles for a gentleman to challenge a lady to take champagne with him. If I have game I remove the top and bottom dishes with them, and make the sweets a separate course, taking care to have cold plates for the jelly, and having the liquors handed round when the sweets are on the table; one cheese I place opposite Mr. B., and macaroni opposite myself. In the dessert I generally introduce some new importation, such as bananas, sugar-cane, American lady apples, prickly pears, &c.; these also give a subject for the gentlemen to talk about when the ladies have left, as free trade, colonial policy, &c. About half an hour after the dessert is on the table, and when I see that the conversation is becoming less general, I retire to the drawing-room; the servants then remove the used glass and plates, and Mr. B. introduces some of his choice claret or Burgundy in ice coolers."

Bon appetite, and a happy New Year to all.