It’s been a while since I sent a newsletter. I don’t like to overload your inbox and it’s been a ridiculously busy summer and autumn. To make up for it, this is a long one.
I started this issue on Thanksgiving morning while waiting for the mincemeat pie to come out of the oven. Now we’re two weeks farther along in the year and the holiday season calls for recipes.
Naturally, for me that means something from the eighteenth century.
101. To make a Neat’s Tongue Pye. Take two or three Tongues, (according as you would have your Pye in bigness); cut off the Roots and low Parts , take two Ounces of Saltpetre, a little Bay – salt, rub them very well, lay them on an earthen Dish with the skin Side downwards, let them lie for a Week or ten Days , whilst they be very red, then boil them as tender as you would have them for Eating, blanch and season with a little Pepper and Salt, flat them as much as you can, bake them in Puff – paste in a deep Dish , but lay no Paste in the bottom, put to them a little Gravy, and half a Pound of Butter; lay your Tongues with the wrong Side upwards, when they are baked turn them, and serve it up without a Lid.
From English Housewifry Exemplified by Elizabeth Moxon, 1749. And yes, “Housewifry” is her spelling, not mine.
In case you wondered—as I did—what a neat’s tongue is, it’s any kind of bovine: cow, ox, bullock, etc. The saltpetre or saltpeter treatment is similar to how you corn a brisket to make corned beef.
Although the instruction says to bake them in puff-paste, but with no paste on the bottom, I conclude that Mistress Moxon intends you to put the paste only on top, taking the place of a lid, and then removing it when it’s done.
My original plan was to give you some interesting (but tested) 18th century recipe, or “receipt” as it would have been called at the time. Then I thought, the holidays is not the time to introduce your family and friends to some exotic and perhaps oddly flavored dish. At the bottom of this post is an authentically 18th century which is also the easiest and only cake you may ever make from scratch.
On Christmas Eve if it’s not windy or raining, I’ll do the traditional thing and line the walk to our house with brown paper lunch bags, each with a votive candle inside. They’re called farolitos or luminarias. Their origin is either secular or religious, depending on what source you read. Or, of course, both at the same time, because this is New Mexico, Land of Enchantment.
I will not be serving neat’s tongue pie for Christmas dinner. Here in New Mexico, tamales are traditional for Christmas. I’ve made them from scratch before but this year I’ll buy some. A local restaurant sells packages of them. A fruit salad and green chile (this is the correct spelling in New Mexico) rice should round out the meal. Biscochitos, the state cookie, are also a must. Traditionally, they’re made with lard, not (ugh) vegetable shortening or butter, and flavored with anise seed and brandy or sherry. Before baking, the tops of the cookies are dipped in a mixture of sugar and cinnamon. I’ll make a batch from an old recipe I’ve used many times.
News:
My tenth book, Hidden Treasures, came out in September. My editor called it “twisty”, which I think was a compliment.
In mid-July I turned in my eleventh, A Murder of Convenience. It’s a locked room murder mystery set in 1740. The investigators are the local magistrate and his cousin, also a magistrate: Sir Hugh Montgomery, a minor character from By Sword And Fan. He needed a story of his own and I needed another investigator. The release date is March 24, 2025.
Excerpt from A Murder of Convenience:
“The housemaid couldn’t get into the woman’s room to sweep out the ashes and lay a new fire. She could not open the door. She told the footman on duty that she would do the rest of her rooms first.” The earl raised his hand as if to run his fingers through his hair, then remembered he was wearing a wig and dropped it. “She didn’t want to wake Mistress Forsyth or, ah…”
“Wake whoever was sleeping there.”
“Just so. The maid assumed that by the time she finished the other hearths, the door would be unlocked. It wasn’t. She asked the footman on duty in the passage to report it to the housekeeper in case of a complaint later by the guest. Then the girl went on with the rest of her duties. When she finished them, she went back to Lydia Forsyth’s chamber. It was still latched, and this time she informed the housekeeper who told the butler. They decided between them that there was nothing more to be done until the sleeper woke.”
An awkward situation but most easily dealt with by ignoring it.
“When breakfast was set out, Carson, the butler, began to be concerned. Mistress Forsyth was not in the habit of leaving her chamber until eleven but she expected her chocolate at nine, followed by a tray. He asked the housekeeper to find out if the lady’s door was now able to be opened. It was not. She rapped on the door, hard enough to wake someone sleeping, and called out to ask if she was well. When there was no response, the butler came to me, and I sent for the estate carpenter.”
“Was there no access from a dressing room, or perhaps from a servant’s stair?”
“No. The dressing room is between the bedchamber and a linen closet. The stair is after that. There was no possibility of breaking down the door. It’s oak, and the hinges and latch are strong. I did not wish it cut except as a last resort. He had his assistant go up a ladder to see if he could lift the window latch with a thin blade.” The earl drank off the last of his brandy.
“He was able to raise the latch on the window and then on the shutter—thank God the wood has shrunk over the years, leaving a little space for a blade—and open the casement. He pushed the curtain aside but wasn’t able to see much. I told him to get himself in and raise the door latch. The fool let out a yell when he climbed through the window and found the body almost at his feet. When I saw how matters were, I posted a footman at the door and sent for you.”
Compliments of the season and a good New Year to all.
Pound Cake
1 pound butter (4 sticks or 2 cups) 1 pound eggs (9 large eggs) 1 pound granulated sugar (2¼ cups) 1 pound of flour (all-purpose flour = 3½ cups + 1 Tablespoon) Flavoring, if used: 2 Tablespoons
Let the butter soften.
Preheat your oven to 300° F. or 150° C. and prepare three loaf pans or three round cake pans. I spray the insides with cooking spray, then line them with cooking parchment or waxed paper.
Beat the butter until it’s smooth, then add the sugar bit by bit while beating until it’s all in and the mixture is fluffy.
Add the eggs one at a time, beating after each one until it’s incorporated.
Gradually add the flour. I’ve never actually counted but I think I add about ¾ cup at a time. Beat after each installment.
Add flavoring. See note below.
Spoon the batter into the pans and bake.
If you use loaf pans, bake for about one hour and fifteen minutes.
If you use round cake pans, allow about twenty-five to thirty minutes.
Check for doneness. The tops should be a light golden color. A toothpick inserted into the middle should come out without stickiness on it. If the cake isn’t done, give it another five or ten minutes.
When it’s done, take the pans out, let them cool for 20 or 30 minutes, and then turn them upside down over a flat surface to peel off the paper before setting the cakes right side up. There you are: enough cake to feed a big family or to share or to freeze for some day when you need cake.
Note: Flavorings: There were no extracts in the 18th century. Hannah Glasse’s pound cake recipe added caraway seeds for flavoring. She also suggested putting in currants instead. Other cakes of the time were flavored with rose or orange flower water or brandy. You can use two tablespoons of an extract, or brandy or rum. You could add raisins or any chopped dried fruit or nuts, or even chocolate chips. Pound cake is versatile.