I’ve been watching 1940s House, the 2001 BBC series in which a family recreates the living conditions during war time Britain. It’s a really excellent show; I find the British versions of the “House” shows to be much more fascinating. They cast people with a sincere interest in history, and I think it makes for a better show than the American version, which leans more towards reality tv and drama drama drama.
Monthly Archive for September, 2009
I want to follow up on my apple pie exploration with this little gem: my roommate reading aloud the 1615 Pippin Pie recipe.
Astoria Sourdough: highly recommended.
Simple Sourdough Bread
1 cup starter
1 cup water
3 cups flour
2 tsp salt
2. “Dough is ready when its surface is dotted with bubbles. Lightly flour a work surface and place dough on it; sprinkle it with a little more flour and fold it over on itself…” (reference video for this technique)
3. Carefully pick up the dough, and drop into the preheated pot. Cover with lid and bake 20 minutes, then remove lid and bake another 15 to 30 minutes, “until loaf is beautifully browned. Cool on a rack.”
***
When I busted out my Astoria (nee New York) Sourdough Starter and gave it a sniff, the smell had definitely mellowed from stinky cheese to almost imperceptibly sour. After scooping out a cup of starter for my dough, I added a cup of flour and 3/4 water back into the starter, mixed it up, and let it sit out for about 6 hours before I put it back into the fridge. Use distilled or bottled water; tap water could be chlorinated and will kill your yeast friends.
I prepared the bread according to the recipe above, starting with the Astoria starter. The loaf came out of the oven a little weird looking: shiny, burnt in places, and lopsided. The latter is the fault of my oven, which, like my floor, slopes to the center of the room. Despite its suspicious looks, the bread smelled delicious. Like Parmesan cheese.
I really should have let the bread cool, but I was excited, and my roommate talked me into slicing it open. It was incredibly dense, and I deduced that I had not let it rise long enough.
We tasted it anyway: it was wonderful. Like a Parmesan cheese bread, that occasionally also tasted like baked macaroni and cheese. It was delicious. I could have eaten it all day. I was amazed. I had literally created this bread from nothing. How can so much flavor come from a mason jar full of flour and water on my windowsill? After having to throw away so many starters to get here, the whole thing just seemed like magic.
“I made this from the air,” I pointed out to my roommate. “You’re eating a piece of New York City. Literally.”
I put the Alaskan sourdough into the oven next; it rose slightly better, and the result was slightly less dense. But nowhere near as flavorful as the Astoria Sourdough. The New York bread was hands down our favorite.
Both loaves came out too dense. I don’t think I let either loaf of bread rise long enough: I hit closer to the 8 hour mark instead of 12. Bittman even recommends letting the dough rise for another 2 hours after you pull it out of the bowl and fold it over, which may be worth a try. Bittman also suggests cooking at 450 for 30 minutes with the lid on, the 15-30 minutes with the lid off. I am going to try his cooking temperature next time, to see if it prevents burnt bits.
The flavor of Sourdough bread varies by the region in which it is baked: sourdough was baked in San Francisco and Alaska because itinerant men needed to start their own yeast cultures; the sourdough from these regions became famous because of the particularly tasty local strains of yeast. New York yeast apparently tastes like mac and cheese.
I declare this experiment a success, although the technique will need to be tweaked. I will definitely be baking another loaf of delicious, cheesy, Astoria Sourdough. And I feel much closer to being able to survive on the frontier, just like so many other women had to do, long ago. Next week: I learn how to slaughter a buffalo.(just kidding)
(or maybe not…)
P.S.: For a little more science behind sourdough, here’s Alton Brown:
The New York Times ran this infatuating article on different bacon brews across the country.
Downing the Original 1864 House Ale at Pete’s Tavern. Photo by Ilana Kohn.
I am pleased to report that the 19th Century Pub Crawl was a rousing success! Over forty people turned out and we covered five bars, from E 4th st. to E 55th. A small group even made it all the way to PJ Clark’s.
We were a motley crew, all ages and backgrounds, brought together by our mutual love of history. Additionally, there were some impressively costumed ladies sporting full 19th century garb, corsets and all. A couple fine gals even came straight from their jobs as historic interpreters at Old Bethpage Village. I don’t think a more convivial group could be found anywhere on the streets of New York that night.
We began our crawl at Swift, a modern bar whose decor and cocktail menu are inspired by the writings of Jonathon Swift. I tried one the bar’s original cocktails, the Captain Gulliver, a combination of Jameson, Ginger beer, and lemon. I had wanted to try the ginger beer, which is so 19th century, but it was non-alcoholic. This cocktail was the perfect solution.
Left: The Captain Gulliver
Next I led the group to McSorely’s, who have been serving their light and dark house brew since their establishment in 1854. The light beer allegedly tastes like cream soda. I ended up not going in: McSorely’s is a cornerstone of drinking at NYU, so the bar was already packed by the time we arrived at 6:30. Half of the crawl decided to stop in, and met up with us later, while the rest of us continued to our third stop, Pete’s Tavern.
Pete’s is also known for the house brew they have served up since 1864. It looks like a dark beer, but tastes like Miller Light. This beer marked a definite turn in my sobriety and in the sobriety of my cohorts.
The interior was beautiful, the bartender gracious, and the staff incredibly tolerant of our drunken antics. I’d stop in Pete’s any day.
Next, we headed down the street to nearby Old Town Bar. At this point, we were famished, so several of us gorged ourselves on the bar’s delicious burgers and fries. I also sent my friend Marc to gather reconnaissance in the men’s bathroom. The marble urinals, “made by Hinsdale in 1910,” are impressive enough that Old Town mentions them on their website. The tavern’s dumbwaiter is also the oldest one operating in the city, and pretty cool to see in action.
Right: The infamous urinals. Overall, a beautiful bathroom.
Lastly, we grabbed a cab and headed uptown to our final destination: PJ Clark’s. After gorging ourselves (again) on a plate of onions rings so crispy they taste like green bean casserole, I noticed that they had an oyster bar. I was thrilled. “How Victorian!” I squealed. In every period source and novel I have read, haughty men are slurping down bivalves by the plateful.
I’d never had an oyster before, so I ordered one for myself and one for Marc. To be honest, I was expecting something squishy and revolting, and misery loves company. We loaded up with condiments and sucked them down, and were surprisingly not disgusted. They just tasted like salt. Or maybe I was wasted.
My evening ended by climbing into a cab bound for Queens. Upon arriving home, I left a trail of my clothing and personal items from my front door to my bed, where I promptly passed out. The next morning, I felt as though I had been struck by a moving carriage. If this were the 19th century, I’d be one step away from McGurk’s.
To see more photos from the event, swing by our group on Flickr here. And if you’re a Flickr member, and attended the event, feel free to add your own photos to our group pool.
We’re already planning another crawl this spring, following the bars on Manhattan’s west side that formerly served the harbor’s sailors, seamen, and other rugged sorts. And is New York the only city where a woman can wear an 1860’s dress with punk-red hair and not be looked at twice? We’re going to find out, because we’re bringing the Crawl to Boston. Stay tuned for more news.
I believe apple pie is one of the greatest pleasures of the fall, second only to all things pumpkin flavored. Over the weekend, I baked three apple pies from three different centuries: the 17th, 18th and 21st. In each recipe, the flavours are so distinctive, so apropos of their respective time periods, that I’ve felt an unrelenting urge to make them at once and let my palette travel back through time.
To Make the Basic Pie
Use the crust recipe of your choice, or get a store bought crust. For the filling, use a mixture of softer apples that will break down with cooking, and firmer apples that will keep their shape. I used a combination of Ginger Gold, Gala, and Paula Red apples, about three pounds in total.
“Apple Filling: …Heat butter (1/2 stick) in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add apple slices, sugar and (spices) and when they start to sizzle and steam, reduce heat to low. Cover pan and simmer until apples soften and release their juices, about 8 minutes. Uncover, increase heat to medium-high and cook, stirring frequently, until softer apples start to fall apart and juices thicken to thin syrup consistency, about 5 minutes longer…Refrigerate of set in a cool place until apples cool to room temperature.”
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1/4 tsp mace
1 tsp rosewater
I want to let you in on a few things going on in my life. First, I wanted to show off my gorgeous new pinner apron, made for me by Eva of Circa 1850 and The New York Nineteenth Century Society. She hand-sewed my golden pinner using a pattern from a period source, The Workwoman’s Guide, published in 1840. I am so excited to break this baby in. I love pinners. They look so smart.
After three days, the Alaskan Sourdough was ready to rock. It smelled sweet and yeasty. But I’m not really surprised, since the yeast culture is actually the result of the beer. Still, I’m looking forward to baking with it.What I’m really excited about is the New York Sourdough. As promised in the Science of Cooking Recipe, after three days the bread was dry on the outside, but inside it was bubbly with the arrival of transient yeasts making a home! And the best part? It does not smell like cat puke. It smelled “slightly sour,” the way it should.
I am giving this sourdough starter thing one more chance. Please bare with me. I’m obsessed with making sourdough for two reasons: 1. Because I feel like a magician. Making bread appear–out of thin air!– in my mind is akin pulling a rabbit out of a hat. 2. Because I know it was done in the past, so I am determined to figure out how it was done. My mother thinks that some 19th century knowledge, like wild yeast starters, have just been lost to the ages. But I’m determined to rediscover it. So off I go to grow some pet yeasts.
This time, I’m attempting to make a yeast starter using two different methods. The first is courtesy of my friends Kristina and Chris in Alaska, who discovered a local woman who makes bags of pre-packaged yeast starter. They cornered her with questions on my behalf, and purchased a bag of her started as a gift to me.
“In 1849, the Boudin family struck culinary gold. Wild yeasts in the San Francisco air had imparted a unique tang to their traditional French bread, giving rise to “San Francisco sourdough French bread.†Today, the Boudin family’s initial recipe lives on in the hands and hearts of our expert bakers, with a portion of the original mother dough still starting each and every sourdough loaf we make.”
They still use the same recipe as they did in ’49, and little molecules of 1849 yeast are still awash in their starter! Awesome! I am really looking forward to visiting the bakery someday.
I wanted to share with you two videos that I am particularly proud of. I did them both recently for The Feedbag.