Delicious Archaeology: Baking From a 19th-Century Cookbook
I grew up eating a lot of food traditional to my Canadian ancestors. We rarely purchased pre-made baked goods, and my mother baked almost everything from scratch. My family were gatherer/hunters, and much of our food came from our farm or from the wilds. I grew up cooking on wood stoves and over campfires with wood we gathered with our dog or pony teams, so I suspect my understanding of foods differs from that of people from urban, western upbringings. I was once used to cooking and baking in the ways my ancestors did over the past couple of hundred years. Although I now cook with modern implements I find the food tastes quite similar as long as I'm using comparable ingredients.
A while back, I picked up a copy of Dorothy Duncan's Nothing More Comforting: Canada's Heritage Food. It contains a variety of recipes similar to the ones I grew up with. I chose a recipe for honey bread because I had all of the ingredients in my larder already. This recipe was first published in 1896 in Fanny Merritt Farmer's The Boston Cooking School Cook Book. It was only about this time that honey was first listed as an ingredient in recipe books. Before that time, honey was served as an accompaniment to scones, tea, and such.
The recipe is as follows:
2 cups flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon soda
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1 teaspoon ginger
1/2 cup strained honey
1 egg, lightly beaten
1 cup milk
Mix and sift dry ingredients. Add others. Beat thoroughly. Bake in loaf or bread stick pans in moderate oven, 350*F. Makes 1 loaf.
These would have been staple ingredients in a Canadian larder around the turn of the 20th century, available from the local grocer. The fresh ingredients such as honey, eggs, and milk, were produced on many farms, and flour was available from grain mills.
If you're familiar with baking, you may notice that a cooking time isn't listed. Neither does it say if the pan should be greased or powdered. I made the guess that I should cook it for about 45 minutes, as that's about how long it takes a gingerbread loaf to cook. I also lightly greased the loaf pan with butter.
Here are my assembled ingredients:
I sifted the dry ingredients together and added the wet ones in a steel bowl.
I mixed them up with a fork.
Despite the amount of honey, the batter is not sweet.
I then put it all in the loaf pan and popped it into the 350* oven for 45 minutes. I have the luxury of an electric timer. Before these were invented, one had to keep a close eye on whatever was cooking, and keep the stove appropriately stoked with the coals at the right heat. Modern ovens and timers have made it much easier to multitask.
After a few minutes, my home smelled of warm honey and spices.
When the timer went off, I poked the loaf with a toothpick to see if it was done. Growing up, I used a piece of straw to do the same thing. The bread was cooked through, so I pulled the pan out of the oven, slid a knife around the edges to make sure it wasn't stuck to the sides, and plopped it out onto a cutting board. After it had cooled for a few minutes, I cut off a couple of slices.
As you can see, there is an interesting two-tone effect. It's paler on the top interior than on the bottom interior. The texture is springy, though from the crumbs I suspect it will dry quickly if not kept in a breadbox. The flavour subtly sweet, and would be excellent served with a pat of butter and/or some jam or marmalade. It has a slow-building, but not overwhelming, ginger aftertaste. It tastes like something my great-grandmother would have made. I would make this recipe again.
A while back, I picked up a copy of Dorothy Duncan's Nothing More Comforting: Canada's Heritage Food. It contains a variety of recipes similar to the ones I grew up with. I chose a recipe for honey bread because I had all of the ingredients in my larder already. This recipe was first published in 1896 in Fanny Merritt Farmer's The Boston Cooking School Cook Book. It was only about this time that honey was first listed as an ingredient in recipe books. Before that time, honey was served as an accompaniment to scones, tea, and such.
The recipe is as follows:
2 cups flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon soda
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1 teaspoon ginger
1/2 cup strained honey
1 egg, lightly beaten
1 cup milk
Mix and sift dry ingredients. Add others. Beat thoroughly. Bake in loaf or bread stick pans in moderate oven, 350*F. Makes 1 loaf.
These would have been staple ingredients in a Canadian larder around the turn of the 20th century, available from the local grocer. The fresh ingredients such as honey, eggs, and milk, were produced on many farms, and flour was available from grain mills.
If you're familiar with baking, you may notice that a cooking time isn't listed. Neither does it say if the pan should be greased or powdered. I made the guess that I should cook it for about 45 minutes, as that's about how long it takes a gingerbread loaf to cook. I also lightly greased the loaf pan with butter.
Here are my assembled ingredients:
I sifted the dry ingredients together and added the wet ones in a steel bowl.
I mixed them up with a fork.
Despite the amount of honey, the batter is not sweet.
I then put it all in the loaf pan and popped it into the 350* oven for 45 minutes. I have the luxury of an electric timer. Before these were invented, one had to keep a close eye on whatever was cooking, and keep the stove appropriately stoked with the coals at the right heat. Modern ovens and timers have made it much easier to multitask.
After a few minutes, my home smelled of warm honey and spices.
When the timer went off, I poked the loaf with a toothpick to see if it was done. Growing up, I used a piece of straw to do the same thing. The bread was cooked through, so I pulled the pan out of the oven, slid a knife around the edges to make sure it wasn't stuck to the sides, and plopped it out onto a cutting board. After it had cooled for a few minutes, I cut off a couple of slices.
As you can see, there is an interesting two-tone effect. It's paler on the top interior than on the bottom interior. The texture is springy, though from the crumbs I suspect it will dry quickly if not kept in a breadbox. The flavour subtly sweet, and would be excellent served with a pat of butter and/or some jam or marmalade. It has a slow-building, but not overwhelming, ginger aftertaste. It tastes like something my great-grandmother would have made. I would make this recipe again.