Ramblings and webcomics from LeEMS
I’ve become a little more regionally inclined in my recent vintage recipe book purchases and I was extremely happy to find that some of these books included recipes for materials that usually have to be grown or obtained directly from someone who grows them.
Each of the books above yielded at least one recipe that I consider more for the gardener trying to figure out what to do with their new harvest than for a cook who normally gets materials from the store.
While my calamondin tree bit the dust (I suspect greening) and my papaya is far from producing fruit, I do have a handful of established surinam cherry bushes. I am super familiar with the monstera deliciosa as a garden plant but I do not have one of those either, and I would love a yaupon holly.
However, I do have a sea grape, that I understand produces human edible fruits, and a volunteer loquat tree. I have also been following Eat the Weeds and Other Things Too, trying to figure out an offensive against some of my most pernicious garden adversaries. I will have to experiment some and see how these things can be worked into daily food.
Labor Day is one of those holidays for which it is especially difficult to build a comfortable, celebratory, collection of watching. It is very close to the end of summer/back to school celebration, and also lacking in a dearth of movies taking place during or about the holiday.
It has been a little while since Clement Skitt showed up on the bean, but you may have gleaned from Clement Skitt’s word of the day that I have a bit of an affinity for vintage slang. I gave that affinity a place to live by making it a love of Clement Skitt, a comic character from Levi Levi and the Time Machine. Since the last word of the day post, I’ve stumbled on a couple more old slang dictionaries on the Internet Archive and figured I’d share in case you would like to peruse them while I do some reading up.
I know I am not the first person to ponder the frequent incidence of the word ‘cooky’ in old cooking pamphlets and recipe books, but no one has yet explored this ‘alternate spelling’ on the internets to my edification. And ‘alternate spelling’ is what is given as a reason for the existence of ‘cooky’ in dictionaries. I thought maybe cooky’s etymological history would explain it, but no. The Online Etymology Dictionary says simply that ‘cookie’ is possibly derived from a 1730 Scottish term meaning “plain bun,” but it’s definition in 1808 as a “small, flat, sweet cake” is more similar to the Dutch koekje “little cake,” a diminutive of koek “cake.”
The etymological histories didn’t even get into how British English calls the same types of confection ‘biscuits.’ Michele Debczak at Mental Floss (2012) points out that the two ‘sweet baked goods’ actually refer to two different types of confection, but does not explore why, even if they have been categorically described as either slower cooking soft thick dough (cookie) or a thin crisp baking stiff dough (biscuit), the terms are more often used based on country and not on type of bake.
I was foolishly hoping to find some online search or service that could comb through historical resources for word popularity similar to how Google Trends combs through the internet search history, but alas. The closest I got was the Google books ngram viewer, which can report on the frequency of words within the Google Books catalog (Wikipedia).
The graph that resulted confirmed what I was seeing in my recipe books and cooking pamphlets, that ‘cooky’ was used most during the mid 20th century, but it didn’t feel like the whole story. After all, Google Books doesn’t really have a lot of recipe books, and recipes were also popularly shared in newspapers.
Chronicling America at the Library of Congress returned massive results when searching for ‘cooky’ that I thought were bogus at first. It seemed to me that the results interchangeably included both ‘cookie’ and ‘cooky.’ This can happen sometimes when search engines are smart enough to correct for misspellings but also not smart enough to search misspellings when quotes are included.
But then I realized that the results were not because of spelling corrections! Both spellings were used in most of the results! From the earliest result I could find in my (definitely not exhaustive) search: 1826, to a mid-century result in 1948, ‘cooky’ was being used as the singular, while ‘cookies’ was the plural.
The 1826 mention that I found, above, also calls the collected confections ‘cakes,’ bringing to mind the Dutch koekje. The earliest I could find ‘cookie’ used as the singular was in an 1895 poem about a ‘Cookie Man.’
The next time I found ‘cookie’ in the singular sense was also a name. I am not quite sure when ‘cookie’ became an alternate for ‘cooky’ but it seems safe to say that instead of simply an alternate spelling, ‘cooky’ is actually the old use singular of ‘cookies.’
I have been having some big dreams about decor DIYs that will just make everything in my house a little extra better. A lot of the ideas are actually for small projects, many small projects that all require fabric or pattern. So, I found myself perusing Spoonflower for fabric and wallpapers. In the search for my favorite variety of floral, something I have always thought of as Jacobean (above), I realized that all of my vocabulary is wrong. Or at least the modern application of the vocabulary by designers uploading patterns to Spoonflower is completely different than mine. I am not a textile historian, so I could never argue that my descriptive word choice is the right one, which is what led me down this particular rabbit hole.
Turns out I didn’t really have the wrong word. Patterns popular in Jacobean design were influenced by both Flemish tapestries and Indian palampores. The designs were flowing and floral, with acanthus leaves arranged all over, delicate flowering trees inspired by palampores, and birds, animals, and the tree of life taken from crewel embroidery.
Yet Jacobean is not what people reliably label the floral, acanthus leaf, or all over tree of life patterns.
Of course, tree of life designs now come in many different varieties, and rarely show up as the all over pattern from the ‘Tabriz Tree of Life Deer Person Rug’ example above. So then I noticed, while searching, that many of the designs I was looking for were labeled as chintz.
My initial ideas of chintz was a big, ‘blousy,’ floral with large cabbage roses in a kind of pastel on pastel print that I remembered from grandma couches in the early 80s. It turns out that chintz is the name for any printed cotton fabric with a glazed finish and bright multicolored patterns. The patterns were eventually applied to many other textiles, like wall paper and ceramic, so now chintz is simply an all over floral. This would include my Jacobean floral ideal, but it also gave me a lot more to wade through. Then I wondered…what is calico? I thought calico was an all over floral print…
And, it is, at least in the U.S. where the printed cotton became known as calico instead of just the plain woven unbleached cotton that is called calico in the UK. Calico, like the palampores that inspired Jacobean patterns and the chintz that took Europe by storm in the 1600s, originated in India. The calico pattern is also ensconced within the overarching concept of chintz.
But paisley is not chintz, mostly. Sometimes when the paisley teardrop is included in a rambling floral design like the ‘Paisley” on the right, it is chintz? But mostly, paisley is the one floral print exception that is viewed separately from chintz. Paisley is of Persian origin, and the teardrop shaped designs were also imported from India into the UK where the pattern was given the name paisley after the town of Paisley where it was produced.
And, here is where I want to wriggle back out of the rabbit hole. I found that yes, Jacobean floral, calico, and sometimes paisley are all chintz, but chintz is not necessarily always either Jacobean floral, calico or paisley. Whether this statement is wholly accurate doesn’t really matter either, because platforms that allow tag and metadata creation by up-loaders are always going to suffer from the popular understanding of a term, if there is any real understanding.
Basements are rare things in Florida, so in my fantasies basements have everything.
My friends and I started up a book club to get us reading, and among other titles, we are reading books from Alice Hoffman’s Practical Magic series. Hoffman’s books are full of mentions of curative foods and drinks, yet very few full recipes are included. Fan’s of the series have already jumped in to fill this omission and have created recipes in an attempt to approximate those mentioned in fiction. One of the best versions of Aunt Isabelle’s Chocolate Tipsy Cake, as is mentioned in the Rules of Magic is the one on Potpourri with Rosemarie. True to form, I changed the recipe a little when I made it, and I flubbed the icing, but it is one delicious cake!
INGREDIENTS:
Preheat oven to 325 while you grease and dust with cocoa powder a large bunt pan. Add to a saucepan on medium-low heat: coffee, rum, butter, cocoa powder, chopped chocolate bar, and sugar until all is melted and combined, then cool. Once the coffee and chocolate mixture is cool add buttermilk, eggs and vanilla. Sift in flour mixed with soda, cinnamon, and clove a little at a time until well combined. Pour into pan and bake 40 minutes or until toothpick comes out clean.
The rum icing, in the recipe on Potpourri with Rosemarie was made with chocolate chips, butter, half and half and dark rum. I had only the darkest chocolate on hand so I wanted to sweeten it. While I should have just added white sugar, I was lazy and dropped in simple syrup, which is why my glaze in the picture looks all lumpy and weird. It tasted lovely though.
The K-12 school system needs support and funding to ensure freedom and democracy:
Nuclear bombs can destroy the world: