Cookbooks & History: Boston Cream Pie
Students in Cookbooks and History (MET ML 630), directed by Dr. Karen Metheny, researched and recreated a historical recipe to bring in to class. They were instructed to note the challenges they faced, as well as define why they selected their recipe and why it appealed to them. Here is the eighth essay in this series, written by Kaitlin Lee. 
Does Boston have a more iconic dessert than the Boston cream pie? The Parker House Hotel, now the Omni Parker House, claims to have invented the dessert for their opening night in 1856. Today, local icons, including Legal Seafoods, Flour Bakery, and Mike’s Pastry, all offer their take. Jackie O and JFK celebrated their engagement at the Parker House with a Boston Cream Pie. Even Dunkin’ Donuts has a Boston cream donut, and it’s one of their most popular flavors.
Although it’s *technically* a cake, most of us think of Boston cream pie as a vanilla cake and custard sandwich topped with chocolate ganache. I started my recipe recreation with some research. I decided to look through the Boston Globe archives to recreate the first recipe for Boston Cream Pie published for home bakers in Boston. I found several recipes for “Boston Cream Cakes,” which resembled cream puffs or small, cupcake-like pastries filled with a layer of custard from the late nineteenth century. To my surprise, none of the early recipes for “Boston Cream” desserts included the chocolate topping. The earliest recipe for Boston cream pie I found in the Boston Daily Globe was published in 1924:
Here is a nice recipe
Crust – Three eggs beaten separately. 1 cup sugar, 1 ½ cups sifted flour, 2 teaspoons
baking powder, 2 tablespoons milk or water. Divide batter in half and bake on pie tins. When cold, split in half, spread cream between. Sprinkle top with powdered sugar. Cream – Put pint of milk in double boiler, break 2 eggs in dish; add cup sugar and 1/3 cup flour. Beat well, stir into milk, add teaspoon butter. Flavor with vanilla or lemon.
The instructions are sparse, and like other recipes from the era, it omits the chocolate topping. “Here is a nice recipe.” Encouraging. We’re off to a good start. Although it’s listed second, I made the cream the day before class so it could cool and set. Since I don’t have a double boiler, I fashioned a makeshift one with a saucepan and a metal bowl. I’ve made a pastry cream or two, and knew to take the pan off the heat once the mixture thickened and coated the back of the spoon. Although I’d usually strain the cream, I resisted since the recipe didn’t mention it. Feeling bold, I defied the written instructions and flavored the cream with vanilla extract AND lemon zest.
The day of class, I made the cake. Step one – preheat the oven. But to what temperature? I picked 350 F because it’s a common oven temperature and I had nothing to lose. Then to “Three eggs beaten separately.” Separated into whites and yolks or separate from the dry ingredients? I found some other Boston Cream Pie recipes from that era that separated the whites and yolks and had very similar ingredient proportions to the recipe I picked. I went with my gut and beat the egg whites into stiff peaks, beat the yolks and the sugar, and folded the whole mess together with the dry ingredients. I couldn’t find two round pans that were the same size, so into one pan, not two, it went. I placed the cake in the oven and after 18 minutes I began testing the cake every three minutes with a cake tester for doneness. I took it out after 24 minutes and let it cool.
I cut the cake in half and covered the split half with a layer of cream. The cream was runnier than I expected and by the time it was ready to serve for class it oozed out in a not-unpleasant fashion. The cake, which had no flavoring aside from sugar, was plain and a little dry. But the cream, despite its loose texture, was delicious! This recipe was super short and expected the reader to know how to make a cake and how to cook with a double boiler. At times, I felt I was doing a technical challenge on the Great British Bake Off. I doubt they’ll be serving this version at the Parker House any time soon, but it was pretty tasty.
Anonymous. 1924. "Boston Cream Pie." Boston Daily Globe, March 9, 1924. ProQuest.
Cookbooks & History: Pollo guisado al gusto del país
Students in Cookbooks and History (MET ML 630), directed by Dr. Karen Metheny, researched and recreated a historical recipe to bring in to class. They were instructed to note the challenges they faced, as well as define why they selected their recipe and why it appealed to them. Here is the seventh essay in this series, written by Lyrsa Torres-Velez.
As a Puerto Rican living in the diaspora, I feel the need to share my culture whenever possible. That’s one of the main reasons I always select Puerto Rican dishes to present in class projects. I feel the closest to my culture and the island while cooking. It’s a way to stay connected and pass the word about us as a group. For this class project, I chose the recipe “Pollo guisado al gusto del país” from El Cocinero Puerto-riqueño (1859: 77 ). El Cocinero Puerto-riqueño was the first published cookbook from Puerto Rico. I have been working on this book for about 2 years and was always compelled to recreate a recipe, so this was a great opportunity to observe if the culinary ways of Puerto Rico today still have any similarity with the ways of the mid 19th century.
Aside from choosing a recipe that could easily represent my culture, I also chose one that was doable, and that was people friendly. Many of the recipes in the book call for the use of pork or by-products, so I knew I had to find something that my classmates would enjoy. I had 3 different recipes that involved chicken, and a similar list of ingredients, but I thought this one would be hard to mess up. One of my favorite Puerto Rican dishes is Carne Guisada o Pollo Guisado, which is something very similar to this recipe (a stew), but using beef instead of chicken, and adding carrots and potatoes. One of my goals was to see how similar in taste and appearance this dish would be to what we currently know as Carne o Pollo Guisado.
The recipe goes as follows:
Desplumados y limpios, se cortan en cuartos y se ponen en una cazuela al fuego con 2 onzas de manteca , tres cebollas partidas en cuartos, cinco dientes de ajo machacados, un poco de orégano, un poco de vinagre, especias finas, un poco de vino seco y sal, cuando esté medio cocido se le echa ajíes encurtidos, y se deja a fuego lento, hasta que esté blando, y entonces se puede servir.
(Defeathered and clean, cut in quarts and put them in a pot with 2 ounces of lard, 3 onions cut in quarts, 5 cloves of garlic smashed, a little of oregano, a little of vinegar, fine spices, a little of dry wine and salt, when it’s half done add peppers, and lower heat, until soft, and then it can be served). (1859: 77 )
The first challenge and the biggest one was to find fresh live chickens to de-feather. I decided to substitute the live chickens with some great Nature’s Promises Chicken Thighs, and used butter instead of the lard . The rest of the ingredients I had available at home since they are basic ingredients in everyday recipes I cook at home. The instructions were simple to me because that’s the way I learned how to cook. That’s what we call “a ojo,” which means that you more or less play with the quantity of ingredients, until you reach the flavor or consistency of whatever dish you are making, but for a person that has no experience in the kitchen, the recipe can be vague because it does not give a time frame. It doesn’t specify how many chickens the recipe calls for. So I calculated the amount of chicken, based on the quantity of onions and garlic that the recipe called for. The fine spices are not identified. What are “fine spices”? Are those spices that only the people with a social status could afford? So I decided that my fine spices were fresh Thyme, Rosemary, and Saffron.
During the process of cooking, I think the most difficult part was that the chicken was colorless. So I added a little bit of tomato sauce because I thought it was too pale. Most of our national food is colorful: habichuelas guisadas, mofongos, arroz mamposteao. The color of the chicken made me a little bit sad. Call me crazy, but I could not just bring chicken to class. Where have you heard about eating just chicken? Not in Puerto Rico. So I also did a little bit of rice and beans to serve with the chicken.
I really enjoyed this project because it gave me the opportunity to have the hands-on experience with the dishes that the past people of Puerto Rico ate, with the limited technology available at the time. It was also a way not just to connect me with my people in this difficult time for the island, but also a way to present my culture to my fellow classmates.
Bibliographical Reference:
"El Cocinero Puerto-riqueño O Formulario Para Confeccionar Toda Clase De ..." Google Books. Accessed October 17, 2017. https://books.google.com/books?id=1gsMrfmrf3AC&printsec=frontcover&source=gbs_ge_summary_r&cad=0#v=onepage&q&f=false.
Cookbooks & History: Apple Truffles
Students in Cookbooks and History (MET ML 630), directed by Dr. Karen Metheny, researched and recreated a historical recipe to bring in to class. They were instructed to note the challenges they faced, as well as define why they selected their recipe and why it appealed to them. Here is the sixth essay in this series, written by Sarah Critchley.
My historical recipe comes from Mrs. Hattie A Burr’s The Woman Suffrage Cook Book, Containing Thoroughly Tested and Reliable Recipes for Cooking, Directions for the Care of the Sick, and Practical Suggestions, Contributed Especially for This Work, published in Boston in 1886. We were doing community cookbooks as a topic for this week’s class, and I loved the idea of using this local Suffragette cookbook for my source.
After flipping through the book, I landed on Mrs. Alice A Geddes’ recipe for something called “Apple Truffles” (1886 67). She included a list of readily-accessible ingredients at the beginning of the recipe, and called for relatively straight forward actions, and since the whole thing was cooked on a stove it didn’t require me to make a guess about an oven temperature. Her recipe was just vague enough to allow me to put my own cooking knowledge to use, and the fact that I had never heard of this dessert made the whole thing an entertaining challenge. Plus, I live in Cambridge and Mrs. Alice A Geddes also lived in Cambridge, so I thought I would pay honor to a fellow Cantabrigian.
Shopping for the ingredients posed no problem and I was able to buy everything from the grocery store around the corner from my apartment. For apples, I chose a mix of Macouns and Cortlands, and I used organic milk and cream. Some of the equipment she calls for I wasn’t able to use - I’m not sure if anyone these days has a glass jar that is large enough to fit a dozen sliced apples. Instead, I assumed that she just wanted the apples to cook gently in their own juices, so I put them in a dutch oven with a parchment lid on top and stirred regularly to make sure they didn’t color. I essentially ended up with applesauce after mashing them up, and I put that in a dish to cool. She stresses the importance of the apples being cold before proceeding, so I put the whole dish in the refrigerator.
I ran into trouble in the next step, which was making the custard. Since I was unfamiliar with this dessert, I wasn’t sure what kind of consistency she was looking for in the final product other than “thickened.” With a whole quart of milk and four large eggs, I would have expected some kind of cornstarch or flour to act as a thickener that would give a consistency similar to a pastry cream. Instead, forty minutes of gently stirring over a double boiler eventually frustrated me and I took two actions to make sure I would have a transportable dish to bring to class instead of applesauce with a quart of creme anglaise poured on top. I made a cornstarch slurry with one tablespoon of cornstarch to thicken it a little, and I ditched the double-boiler to just put it on medium-low direct heat. Although I’m still not exactly sure how thick she wanted the custard, my actions proved moderately successful and my custard set overnight, but it was a little overcooked. Mrs. Geddes’ directions continue directly into topping the dessert with whipped cream after the custard step, but I knew that the whipped cream would just melt into the still-warm custard, so I topped my dessert the next day with no problems.
Overall, she gave just enough guidance for me to feel confident in attempting her recipe, but she really lost me with the custard. If I had been more familiar with Apple Truffles I think it would have been easier for me to produce a closer result to what was intended. This was definitely an exercise in using my own cooking instincts, but I’m still not sure if they guided me toward the correct final product or not.
Burr, Hattie A. The Woman Suffrage Cook Book, Containing Thoroughly Tested and Reliable Recipes for Cooking, Directions for the Care of the Sick, and Practical Suggestions, Contributed Especially for This Work. Boston: Hattie A Burr, 1886.
Cookbooks & History: Apple Fritters
Students in Cookbooks and History (MET ML 630), directed by Dr. Karen Metheny, researched and recreated a historical recipe to bring in to class. They were instructed to note the challenges they faced, as well as define why they selected their recipe and why it appealed to them. Here is the fifth essay in this series, written by Anastasia Nicolaou.
Why apple fritters? Because apples are in season! With New England’s rich tradition of cider mills and apple orchards that still attract tourists and locals every fall, I thought an attempt at a classic apple fritter was appropriate, even if the weather is currently unsure if it’s fall or summer.
For the recipe, I used Mary Randolph’s The Virginia House-Wife (1838: 129). Mary Randolph, having fallen on hard times, opened a boarding house to support her family in 1808, and first published The Virginia House-Wife in 1824. It went through many reprints over the next 50 years, and is considered one of the first receipt books in American history (Daley 2013).
When considering historical recipes, we have to keep some important things in mind. For one, the layout of the recipe may not be what we are used to as the modern readers. As we can see in the image from The Virginia House-Wife, Randolph does not separate out the ingredients, and measurements are used sporadically. When faced with “some apples,” I decided to peel and seed four, which I sliced thinly but did not core.
The sugar was easy enough to understand – 1lb of granulated sugar is two cups. A quarter would be half a cup. For a glassful of brandy, I took out a small wine glass, measured out the brandy, and threw it in the dish with the apples. Some wine proved a little more challenging – I ended up adding enough to get the liquid barely covering the apples in a single layer (since the recipe mentioned one should turn over the apples in the dish periodically, I figured completely submerging was out of the question). A sprinkling of cinnamon, subjective, and the rind of one lemon went into the pan as well.
My entire kitchen smelled like liquor. That was a potent cocktail the apples were soaking in! I let the apples stand for about an hour total, and turned them over frequently as directed. The batter turned out well – the true measurements of everything but the water was helpful. I ended up adding water until it was the consistency of a crepe batter (my own embodied knowledge).
This is where I started mentally fighting with Randolph. Her recipe did not call for the apples to be totally dried before battering, nor did it mention dredging them in flour before putting them in the batter. I felt disaster was imminent, and I was correct. The batter in the first batch slid entirely off the apples, and in the frying pan the apples dissolved immediately because of their high liquid content. There were bits of burned batter and melted apples everywhere.
So I re-worked Randolph’s recipe. I dried the apples with a paper towel, then dipped them in flour before dipping them in the batter. This time, the batter stuck and the frying happened quickly.
Per Randolph, the fritters should have been taken out when they reached a light brown. I did this, sprinkled them with sugar, and voilà! Apple Fritters.
These were great fresh out of the frying pan. They were crispy and warm and still firm because the apple itself was barely cooked in the oil. Unfortunately, as the day went on, the high liquid content in the apples began to seep into the batter, rendering the fritters a mess. In class, people commented that the firmness of the apple somewhat made up for the lack of crisp in the batter, but I wasn’t buying it.
Overall, Randolph’s recipe was a success. As soon as the extra steps were added to prep the apples, they fried up the way I envisioned. Perhaps Randolph assumed the chef reading her book would know to take those steps, or perhaps tastes have changed and melted apples in oil with blobs of fried batter was the way to go (though I doubt it).
Works Cited
Daley, Bill. 2013. "Mary Randolph wrote The Virginia House-Wife cookbook in 1824." Chicago Tribune, September 18. Accessed October 18, 2017. http://articles.chicagotribune.com/2013-09-18/features/sc-food-0913-giants-randolph-20130918_1_cookbook-star-boarding-house-nathalie-dupree.
Randolph, Mary. 1838. The Virginia House-Wife. Baltimore: Plaskitt & Cugle. PDF e-book.
Cookbooks & History: Shaker Bread
Students in Cookbooks and History (MET ML 630), directed by Dr. Karen Metheny, researched and recreated a historical recipe to bring in to class. They were instructed to note the challenges they faced, as well as define why they selected their recipe and why it appealed to them. Here is the fourth essay in this series, written by Ashley Lopes.
Cookbooks and recipes are more than just ingredients on a list or words on a page. They tell us untold stories about historic communities, social networks, and meal systems. In my Cookbooks and History class, we learn how recipe collections transmit knowledge and reflect the changing practices and food landscape. What does the act of “doing cooking” convey? To answer this question, I recreated a historical recipe from Caroline Piercy’s The Shaker Cook Book (1953). The Shakers were a religious sect formed in the 18th century. They sought a utopian society where they could develop a spirit of community. In her book, Piercy compiles hundreds of traditional Shaker recipes, from pickles and preserves to breads and cakes.
The Recipe
I chose to recreate “Shaker Daily Loaf” for a number of reasons: 1) I love bread. 2) Bread-making was an integral part of Shaker communities. Women often baked 20 to 30 loaves a day. 3) One of Piercy’s readers has inserted a handwritten loose-leaf paper, with an index of his/her favorite recipes. The Shaker Daily Loaf is included in this list, which suggests that the recipe is as practical as it is delicious.
Many historical cookbooks (e.g. Lydia Maria Child’s The Frugal Housewife, 1830) rely on subjective forms of measurements, such as “butter the size of an egg.” The Shakers, however, were much more precise. Their bread recipe provides a standardized list of ingredients with exact measurements. The actual procedure is organized in paragraph style and specifies the baking time and oven temperature. Evidently, the Shakers demonstrated an understanding of domestic science and applied these methods in their cooking.
Challenges
The Shakers also relied on intuitive, preexisting knowledge. Some of the steps in their recipe lack instruction or explanation. For example, how do you know when the yeast is activated? How do you scald milk? Do you knead the dough twice? Should you cover the dough as it rises? With over 100 mouths to feed three times daily, Shaker communities were well acquainted with how to make the standard bread loaf. Perhaps this recipe was documented for their record-keeping, rather than for instructing the novice cook.
The main challenge I experienced in this recipe involved the application of yeast. The recipe calls for “1/2 cake compressed yeast,” dissolved in 1/8 cup of warm water. While the recipe specifies the quantity of cake yeast, it does not indicate the size. What’s more, cake yeast is often sold in different sizes, 0.6 oz to 2 oz blocks, at limited locations. This made things difficult for me. How do I accurately convert 1/2 cake yeast to the modern equivalent of dry active yeast? Initially, I dissolved half a packet (1/8 oz) of dry yeast with the 1/8 cup of warm water. The yeast failed to activate. I tried again and it failed once more. On my third try, I decided to follow the directions on the back of the Fleischmann’s dry yeast packet. I dissolved 1/4 oz of yeast with 1/4 cup of warm water and 1 teaspoon of sugar. Success! Within 10 minutes, the yeast began to bubble and form a creamy foam. I used only half of this yeast mixture with my flour and dry ingredients.
Transmission of Knowledge
Apart from the yeast conversion, this Shaker recipe was relatively easy to replicate. The remaining instructions were fairly intuitive: knead the dough, let rise, knead again, let rise a final time, and bake. In all, the recipe assumes a great deal about the skill set of the reader. We may view the instructions as incomplete or lacking, but for the Shakers, this was all implied knowledge.
The Shakers practiced sensory engagement to guide the reader through each step. They relied less on measurable criteria and more on their own experience to determine when a food ingredient reached the correct consistency. For example, the recipe notes how the dough should feel, how it should look when risen, and how the finished loaf should sound: “Gradually add flour until sponge is stiff enough so it does not stick to hands … Let rise to double its bulk … Test loaf by tapping top; if it sounds hollow, the loaf is done.” Altogether, the Shakers demonstrate a utilitarian approach to baking, with writing that is more straightforward than personal. Bread was considered the “staff of life” and bread-making was a communal activity that fed hundreds of mouths daily. This process required nothing more than one’s own self and a loaf pan and oven.
Bibliography
Child, Lydia Maria. 1830. The Frugal Housewife. Second edition. Boston: Carter and Hendee.
Piercy, Caroline B. 1953. The Shaker Cook Book: Not by Bread Alone. New York: Crown Publishers, Inc.
Alumni Spotlight: Priya Shah
There are some duos that just go together. Milk and cookies, Batman and Robin, or peanut butter and jelly are a few that instantly come to mind. But what about those that are less common? For BU Gastronomy alum Priya Shah, there isn't a better combination than food and storytelling.
After graduating from the program in 2011, Priya aspired to make her favorite fusion a reality. Unfortunately, it wasn’t as easy as she thought. Instead of diving straight into the culinary communications industry, Priya returned home to work for her family’s hotel business in Iowa. After a little less than two years, she was yearning to trade her conversations about RevPAR and third-party reservation systems for wine characteristics and restaurant openings. Priya decided it was time to start researching communications firms that solely focused on lifestyle brands. Eventually, this search led her to Atlanta. There, she gained valuable experience working for boutique and corporate firms managing a range of food-related clients. From James Beard Award nominated chefs to Cracker Barrel Old Country Store, her breadth was quite diverse.
Learning best practices from her agency experiences, Priya realized that her Master’s in Gastronomy equipped her
with a rare set of skills. Unlike her colleagues, she could speak the language of her clients and was often chatting with them about industry trends. It didn’t take her long to decide to open up her own shop. In June, she launched ShahSquared Consulting, a communications and marketing firm dedicated to food and beverage, hospitality and travel clients. To set herself apart, Priya focused on three core elements: 1.) expertise; 2.) authenticity; and 3.) approach. She would provide her customers with the utmost hospitality while cutting through the fluff. Her greatest joy comes from sharing her clients’ stories and watching them succeed and prosper. But, don’t be mistaken -- Priya doesn’t take herself too seriously. Between promoting her dog to Chief Morale Pawficer and her blatant obsession with pineapples, Priya’s not afraid to let her personality shine in her business.
Many of Priya’s passions and achievements she attributes to her time at BU. Her exposure to different industries and educational experiences through her peers made every class discussion worthwhile. Whether she always agreed with her classmates’ opinions was another story. Outside of the university, Priya has enjoyed using the alumni network to connect with other gastronomy grads. It was through the network that she met Shaun Chavis (BU Gastronomy ’07). Now a friend and confidant, Shaun was influential in Priya’s entrepreneurial pursuit. Together, the two have used their talents to collaborate on client projects and support each other in their respective businesses.
As for the future, Priya looks forward to expanding her businesses and attaining more clients. The world is her oyster and she prefers hers with homemade Mignonette and a little fresh grated horseradish.
Reflections on Michael Twitty’s Pepin Lecture
On October 24th, Michael Twitty visited BU to present a Pepin Lecture on his book, The Cooking Gene. This is Gastronomy student Ariana Gunderson's take on the lecture.
“But, America is not ready for you.” So said an editor at a major publishing house to Michael Twitty, when he proposed a book tracing the food history of his family and black American foodways in 2012. It turns out that Twitty, culinary historian and minor twitter celebrity (@KosherSoul) got the last laugh. Following a burst of media attention for his take on the Paula Deen scandal, publishers decided America was in fact ready to hear the story of Michael’s family and his intersectional identities - Twitty identifies as black, Jewish, Southern and gay. In his new book, The Cooking Gene, Twitty imparts an important narrative long silenced by white power structures in publishing, academia, media, and education.
Invited to BU for the Pépin Lecture Series, Twitty shared the story of his research and his book in an impassioned lecture peppered with Yiddish and pop culture references. In his talk, Twitty argued that when it comes to food, narratives matter.
“Who owns Southern food? Who created Southern food?” These questions are pertinent to current discussions of appropriation and the persistent impact of colonialism on the present day, but Twitty reframed them to emphasize narrative: “Just because the oppressor and oppressed share the same food does not mean we can create a false equivalence.” Twitty argues that the narrative of a black southerner eating black eyed peas is fundamentally different from the narrative of a white southerner eating those same peas, and that the complications of those narratives are what matter to discussions of race and food.
Narrative also matters in the histories we tell ourselves and our children. Twitty objected to the characterizations of the influences of black cuisines on the American foodscape as “contributions.” This cultural transaction was theft, he asserted, not a “contribution” made in exchange for “rape, whips, and chains.” Telling the stories of black foodways is a small but imperative step to rectifying the whitewashing of our national historical narrative, but it is crucial to be honest about the conditions of that history.
Finally, Twitty argued that personal narrative matters. With each small genealogical epiphany – the name of his great-great grandmother, the current locations of his distant relatives, the foods cooked by his Igbo ancestors – Twitty’s sense of self- and community-identity gained context and legitimacy. He encourages everyone, but especially black Americans, to research their own family history and genealogy as he has, to add depth and emplacement to their personal narratives.
At the conclusion of his talk, Twitty assigned the audience some homework (his experience as a Hebrew School teacher was apparent here). “It doesn’t matter where you are in your life’s journey,” said Twitty. “Go home and write your food biography.” This biography is to be as exhaustive as possible, to include everything – even one’s trips to McDonald’s.
“Then,” Twitty instructed the audience, “if your elders are still alive, interview them.” If not, write down everything you can remember about the food they bought, cooked, ate, or talked about. Elders need not be only blood relatives, they can be anyone in your community. This documentation and preservation of food histories is exactly the work Twitty has completed in incredible depth for his own family history, a methodology especially important for lifting up the voices of the chronically silenced. “Anyone can do this!” Twitty asserted.
Ready or not, Twitty is precisely the food historian America needs.
Don’t forget to sign up for the next installment of the Pépin Lecture Series on November 8th, where BU Gastronomy’s own Megan Elias presents her new book, Food on the Page. Register here.
No Crying Over Raw Milk: Analysis of the United States’ Raw Dairy Controversy
Written by Jessi VanStaalduinen
In my Ethical Eating and Food Movements class, I was to explore a food movement and determine my own opinion on the subject. I went into this assignment with pure curiosity and little bias. My research alarmed me and I have been unable to drink pasteurized milk since. I buy raw milk from a local farm in Fremont, NH.
The population of the United States consumes government regulated, pasteurized dairy products sold at almost every grocery store, the rise of interest in its counterpart, raw dairy, has sparked controversy; this paper will illuminate evidence, contradictory to publicized claims, that raw dairy is safe and citizens should have the right to choose what they consume.
Introduction:
The phrase ‘raw milk’ is not familiar to the average American. Despite what many believe, the milk on supermarket shelves is not considered raw due to the mostly mandatory processing and pasteurization it endures. So, what exactly is raw milk? “Milk that comes from pastured cows, that contains all the fat and has not been processed in any way,” is a definition from one of the largest raw milk supporting foundations in the US (A campaign for Real Milk, 2016). Millions of Americans are unaware of the status of their milk, and those that do know have been led to believe pasteurizing milk is necessary for safe consumption. Government organizations and the dairy industry mislead and lie to consumers about the safety of raw dairy and have made significant efforts to make the distribution and production difficult for dairies and consumption difficult for consumers. These false claims are scare tactics to ensure monopolized market share and to protect factory farms.
I argue, that despite what anyone says, consumers in a free nation have the right to choose what kind of milk they want to buy. Both pasteurized and raw milk, and cheeses, have their pros and cons. Consumers should have readily-available, accurate information on which to base their decisions so that a trip to the grocery store does not require extensive research in order for the health and safety of their families.
This paper will explore the raw dairy industry, the benefits of consuming raw milk, the constraints placed on these dairies, and the truth about pasteurization. Thorough explanations of the arguments for and against raw milk will be presented, although I am sure my bias is obvious. I framed my research through the theoretical framework perspective and I hope it will enhance my point of view.
Theoretical Framework:
Food studies is an up and coming field. Not many institutions have programs that focus solely on it. Thus, the raw dairy industry has been at the mercy of government organizations, lack of public knowledge, and monopolizing agriculture corporations. The discussions about raw dairy are limited and mostly one-sided. Scare tactics are used by both industry and government to convince the public that pasteurization is the only way to safely drink milk, while the small percentage of the population (a difficult statistic to form) that produces and consumes raw milk is a victim of slander and not able to equally defend themselves.
My research included scientific studies of pathogenic bacteria found in raw and pasteurized milk, small dairy testimonials, extensive books on raw food by homeopathic doctors and journalists, and government websites. I believe that all of these sources are applicable to this kind of research because industry cannot be summarized by one model alone. Consumers and producers have valuable opinions, laboratories have extensive studies, and doctors have years of hands on experience; these all help the understanding of the issues surrounding the raw dairy movement.
My paper is an analysis of many sources that uncovers the truth after understanding both sides of the argument. The contribution to the field this paper makes is different because when I began my research I thought of both raw and pasteurized milk equally. After comparing conflicting resources, it became clear to me that this was not the case. My paper is unique and important to the field because I was unbiased prior to my research, strongly considered both sides, and by shedding further light can help people understand raw milk.
To read more, check out Jessi's blog at https://gastroshield.wordpress.com/.
Cookbooks & History: Corn Meal Bread
Students in Cookbooks and History (MET ML 630), directed by Dr. Karen Metheny, researched and recreated a historical recipe to bring in to class. They were instructed to note the challenges they faced, as well as define why they selected their recipe and why it appealed to them. Here is the third essay in this series, written by Laura Kitchings.
I chose to work with the corn meal bread recipe from Mary Randolph’s The Virginia Housewife (Randolph 1838, 141) because it was gluten-free, which suits my dietary needs, and easily transportable, so I could bring the finished project to our class. I had been working with the cookbook for another assignment, and was curious as to the usability of her recipes. I started by considering the material culture I thought I would need: a whisk, a bowl for mixing, a pint measurement, and a divided cast iron pan. I believed that the divided cast iron pan would replicate the technology available in 1838, and substitute for the little pans from the recipe.
In choosing the ingredients, I tried to find materials as close as possible to what would have been available at the time in Virginia, while completing a weeknight shop at a suburban Massachusetts grocery store. I chose whole milk, unsalted butter, organic eggs, and for the cornmeal, I chose a brand that did not list any additives.
For my first attempt, I decided to light one burner on a gas grill and then put the cornmeal mix on the furthest part of the grill from the lit burner. I then left it for approximately forty minutes. Unfortunately, I had forgotten to activate the yeast, and when I checked on the mixture it had not risen and had started to bake. It had also developed a gas taste, which may be attributed to the newness of the particular gas grill.
For the next attempt, I remembered to activate the yeast and decided to use the oven. I set the oven for 205 degrees Fahrenheit and put the cornmeal mixture in an enabled cast iron pot, similar to the technology of the time. Again, when I checked on the mixture after about forty minutes in the oven, it had started to bake. I tried to save the mixture by putting it into the divided cast iron pan, adding butter to hydrate the mixture. Putting the cast iron pan in a 400 degrees Fahrenheit oven and checking it after ten minutes, it had become a crumbly mess.
I then decided to make cornbread as I usually do. I used a mix with added sugar and baking soda, which served as a leavening agent. I used almond milk for the milk and olive oil for the oil. Following the instructions on the package, the end result looked fluffier and tasted sweeter than the mixture from Randolph’s recipe. This was mainly a result of the added sugar and leavening agents, not from changes in the cornmeal itself. I also realized that while creating cornbread using the mix superficially appeared to use only a few ingredient, both the almond milk and the cornbread mix contain a multitude of ingredients, far more than Randolph’s recipe.
For my final attempt at Randolph’s recipe, I realized that my kitchen is a more controlled environment than the kitchen envisioned in the recipe. The thermostat in my kitchen read 70 degrees Fahrenheit, which I assumed to be accurate. Randolph could not assume a kitchen with a controlled environment, so she had the user put the cornbread mixture near the fire, as this would allow the yeast to work with the cornbread regardless of the temperature of the kitchen. I ended up putting the mixture in a shallow enameled cast iron pan and left it on my counter for twenty minutes. The mixture did rise a small amount. I then placed the pan into a pre-heated 375 degree Fahrenheit oven, the same temperature I had baked the cornbread from the mix. I kept the mixture in the shallow pan, as I decided that this would mimic the surface area of the little pans required in the recipe. The result was a solid, dense cornbread.
While waiting for the various rounds of cornbread to bake, I had been reading Diane Tye’s Baking as Biography. In this book she discusses the fall of the price of white sugar in the mid-nineteenth century and the corresponding rise in its consumption (Tye 2010). Randolph’s recipe was likely published before the change in sugar prices and to early 19th-century palates the cornbread was likely considered somewhat sweet. In comparison, my 21st-century palate found the bread to lack sufficient sweetness, while the cornbread from the mix tasted only somewhat sweet. While I do not plan to re-create other recipes from Randolph’s book, the experience did make me examine other historical recipes with more care, and consider the motives behind the provided instructions.
Sources:
Randolph, Mary. 1838. The Virginia House-Wife. Baltimore: Plaskitt & Cugle. PDF e-book.
Tye, Diane. 2010. Baking as Biography: A Life Story in Recipes. Montreal (Québec): McGill-Queen's University Press.
Cookbooks & History: Bread Pudding
Students in Cookbooks and History (MET ML 630), directed by Dr. Karen Metheny, researched and recreated a historical recipe to bring in to class. They were instructed to note the challenges they faced, as well as define why they selected their recipe and why it appealed to them. Here is the second essay in this series, written by Frank Carrieri.
Cookbooks allow people to gain insight into the past. The recipes within such cookbooks paint a picture of a culture and its foodways during a specific period. In Seventy-Five Receipts for Pastry, Cakes, and Sweetmeats, Eliza Leslie (1828), also known under the pseudonym “a lady of Philadelphia,” records classic and original American dessert recipes. Leslie’s choice of rhetoric in the preface patronizes European receipts by mentioning they are “so complicated and laborious” (1828, iii). She credits herself with the originality of the receipts and also commenting that they were prepared by countless friends with great success. Leslie assures us that if the receipts are done precisely to the direction, there should not be any failure (1828, iv). She goes so far as to assert that these receipts are as good as if one purchased them from a confectioner. are as good as if one purchased them from a confectioner.
I was attracted to the bread pudding recipe (1828, 29) for various reasons.
- I love carbohydrates- as most should
- Bread pudding is relatively inexpensive to make
- I was intrigued by the ratio Leslie’s bread pudding used
I would like to think I have a good track record making bread pudding- either in industry or at home. In undergrad, I worked at a restaurant in Providence, Rhode Island, where the bread pudding was the staple dessert. Bread pudding, to simply put it, is bread drenched in a custard and then baked slowly, roughly at 325F degrees. Looking at the recipe, Leslie has four ounces of bread to 44 ounces of custard. I, in a sort of arrogance, instantly thought this was going to be awful. How could you call this bread pudding where there is so little bread? Leslie has some explaining to do. With my doubts, I decided to go ahead and increase the bread amount. The following were my adjustments:
| Ingredients | Quantity |
| Bread | 12 ounces |
| Milk | 1 quart |
| Cinnamon | 2-3 each |
| Eggs (large) | 8 each |
| Sugar | 4 ounces |
| Lemon Zest | “A little” |
| Nutmeg | As needed |
Looking at the recipe once more, I had a realization- “Did they use large eggs in 1828?” I decided to go ahead and make the recipe as I would typically do- large eggs and all. Something that is not mentioned in the recipe is oven temperature. For myself, I always bake custards low and slow, as mentioned earlier. How did others know what temperature to bake bread pudding at and if so, was there an embodied knowledge?
As Leslie precisely instructed, I waited until the bread pudding was cool before I started to cut from it. I was eager to snag a bite of her “American” bread pudding. With the cinnamon, it tasted like french toast- which is not a terrible thing. Overall, I thought the bread pudding lacked excitement and a depth of flavor, which could have been achieved by adding other spices, inclusions such as dried fruit, or substituting some of the milk with heavy cream. The addition of bread gave the recipe more body- essentially putting the bread back into bread pudding. Overall the modified recipe was a success, but I still wish I had tried the original recipe. It would be quite interesting to compare the two versions of the dish.
From making the bread pudding, one can learn that historical recipes can offer a notion of embodied knowledge or knowledge so well known that it wasn't necessary to restate in written form. It can also be said that technology of the era has a role in the production of the recipe. Additionally, through the recipe one can gain an understanding of the kind of person Eliza Leslie was. First, she was a woman who had a passion and knowledge for desserts. Her method of preparation for each recipe was thorough and written with a professional voice. The context of the book is nationalistic, highlighting American cuisine. The cookbook is structured as a guide for women to provide the best American desserts for their families regardless of socio-economic status.
Worked Cited:
Leslie, Eliza. 1828. Seventy-Five Receipts for Pastry, Cakes, and Sweetmeats. Boston: Monroe
and Francis.