Milk Punch

I came across this awesome recipe for Milk Punch on the Massachusetts Historical Society website. The recipe, which dates back to 1763, is from Ben Franklin himself! Check it out:

source

If you can't read his beautiful script, here is the transcription:

To make Milk Punch

Take 6 quarts of Brandy, and the Rinds
of 44 Lemons pared very thin; Steep the 
Rinds in the Brandy 24 hours; then strain 
it off. Put to it 4 Quarts of Water, 
4 large Nutmegs grated, 2 quarts of 
Lemon Juice, 2 pound of double refined 
Sugar. When the Sugar is dissolv'd, 
boil 3 Quarts of Milk and put to the rest 
hot as you take it off the Fire, and stir 
it about. Let it stand two Hours; then 
run it thro' a Jelly-bag till it is clear; 
then bottle it off. --

Wow, Ben, that sounds intense! 

I pondered making this incredibly interesting sounding punch, but the idea of peeling the rinds of 44 lemons made me reconsider. Plus, I don't own a Jelly-bag. In fact, what is a Jelly-bag? Anyone? So I decided instead to find an easier, smaller-batch version under the same name but more feasible for someone that doesn't want to buy six quarts of brandy.

Here's the updated recipe:

2 oz bourbon whiskey

3 oz half-and-half

1 tsp superfine sugar

1/4 tsp vanilla extract

1/4 tsp grated nutmeg

source

The verdict: Milk Punch is good. It's yummy and creamy and oh so decadent. I think this is the kind of drink that one should sip in front of a roaring fireplace, wrapped in red flannel, so I'll stash this recipe until late Fall or Winter. You should try it then too!

Happy adventuring!

Hygienic Way of Preparing Onions?

Hygienic Way of Preparing Onions? I didn't realize my way of preparing onions was unhygienic! It's amazing how much food preparation, cookbooks, even food language has changed over the years.

This selection is from the Inglenook Cook Book from 1911. My edition of the book is from 1927 and is in poor form--the spine is cracked and duck-taped, the pages are torn and heavily yellowed--but I love that when I open the book, faded, handwritten recipes fall from between the pages. It seems like every time I open the cookbook new, mysterious pages present themselves to me. For instance, today when I was looking for a new recipe to write about, this little memoranda fell onto my lap:

This recipe is for pepper relish. It's hard to read, but it looks like the recipe calls for red peppers, green peppers, onions (put through a grinder--what's a grinder?), boiling water, vinegar, salt, and a whopping 2 cups of sugar! The real mystery is the note written in pencil at the bottom. I can make out the words "out of my book you copy," "send back" and "Mother." I wonder if the recipe ever made its way back to Mom. Hmm... Anyway, I'm off to the farmer's market with hopes of finding some red and green peppers to make this relish for a later post!

Do you have any old cookbooks? Find anything special between the pages?

Happy adventuring!

What's that?

Most of the time I feel pretty comfortable talking about food--ingredients, techniques, equipment, etc. But this little tool (pictured below) really stumped me. We have a fork, a knife, and a...what is that? A chipped spoon? A spork wanna-be? What is it!? Matt and I found this pretty little piece of silver at Le Bec Fin in Philadelphia, a place where it would be totally uncool to ask how to use cutlery, let alone what it should be used for. So naturally, we ignored it. Never used it. And then (discreetly) took a picture of it.

Well, thanks to the wonderful world wide web, I've got an answer! It's a saucier spoon--a flattened, notched spoon used for saucing food like fish. Despite the completely ridiculous notion that we need a separate spoon to sauce our fish, I'm kind of sad that much of the tradition and ritual has been taken out of meals. I'm not saying that dinner needs to be formal. In fact, I prefer informal, rustic meals shared between loud and laughing friends and family. But there is something about the idea of taking the time to set the table with the utmost care in preparation for a long, loving meal that I find so alluring. Maybe if we spent more time preparing for our meals we'd feel the need to spend more time together at the table. So no more eating dinner on the couch in front of the television! I'm buying a saucier spoon.

Happy adventuring!

A Substitute for Meat

I couldn't resist posting this little tip courtesy of Sister Cora Sell Brubaker of Hollidaysburg, Pa, from the Inglenook Cook Book, 1911. A substitute for meat that "will taste just as good"? Well sister, I guess since the beans, cabbage, and turnips are browned in lard (pig fat) they would taste just as good! I don't think this will be showing up as a side dish on my plate any time soon but give it a shot if you're feeling lard-venturous!

Do you keep lard in your kitchen?

Happy adventuring!

Absinthe

Recently, my friend Mandy of Married up with Wine inspired me to get back into the blog game. She's made a mark in the blog world and encouraged me to continue with A Pot in Time, which was once a true passion of mine. So here we go--jumping back into the strange and delicious world of food and drink.

For my first post back, I'm going to talk about absinthe--a beverage that completely fulfills the "strange and delicious" aspects of this blog. My first experience with absinthe was in Prague when I watched my stepdad drink it. At this point it was illegal pretty much everywhere except the Czech Republic. For some reason, absinthe terrified me--it was a completely mysterious beverage that I believed would send me down the rabbit hole if I so much as smelled it. So I instead of trying it for myself, I sat, watched, and waited for my stepdad to see the Green Fairy, who never showed. (The bartender later told us that it would take about twelve shots of the stuff to start experiencing the symptoms that writers and artists like Pablo Picasso, Vincent Van Gogh, and Ernest Hemingway supposedly experienced while drinking the bohemian liquid.)

After some time passed and absinthe became legal in the states, I decided to give it a try at Jose Garces' bar and restaurant Village Whiskey in Philadelphia. The bar specializes in vintage cocktails, liquors and prohibition-style ingredients like house made bitters and creme de violette. I was impressed with the set up--absinthe spoons, cubes of sugar, a slow ice-water drip over the glasses. It was all very intriguing.

After waiting a considerable amount of time for the sugar to melt and watching the bright green liquid become a murky, foggy yellow, the absinthe was ready to drink. The flavor was bright, like sweet fennel and star anise, and cold yet warm like most strong alcohol. It was good and I enjoyed the whole process, but upon finishing my glass, the mystery and allure faded slightly. I'm sure when the brilliant struggling artists were getting sloshed at the Lapin Agile in Paris around the turn of the 20th century it was all far more grande. Maybe next time I'll pair the bottle with a type writer or paint brush and see what happens.

Have you tried absinthe? What did you think?

Happy adventuring!