Abraham Lincoln in the Kitchen
Page 20
As Springfield grew, Mary and other homemakers in town would have had help from grocers, confectioners, and bakers. Mrs. John Stuart recalled the early days when “not even a loaf of bread could be bought in the town.” Later newspaper advertisements shout out the goods: dried fruits, raisins, figs, apples, oranges, cranberries, fancy confections of all kinds, candies, ice, wines and liquors, meats, canned oysters, dried mackerel, and cigars, along with cooking staples such as flour, cornmeal, hominy, molasses, sugars of all kinds, salts, butter, spices, and flavoring extracts.
Mary was far from alone as she struggled with life in her Springfield cottage. Her three sisters were married and living in town. The Lincolns lived about a block and a half from her sister Frances and husband Dr. Wallace. Younger sister, Ann, and her husband, merchant C. M. Smith, lived about four blocks away; the oldest Todd daughter, Elizabeth, wife of Ninian Edwards, lived just another two blocks farther west of the Smiths and six blocks from the Lincolns. The sisters, for the most part, chose not to reveal much about their relationships when William Herndon came gathering information after Lincoln’s assassination. Again, my imagination and common sense make me consider that there was significant interaction among them. The Lincolns did have a charge account at C. M. Smith’s store. Mary lived with Elizabeth for three years before she married Lincoln. The newlyweds immediately moved into the single room at Globe Tavern. Robert was born just nine months later. I have to think that as the time came close, Mary would have moved into one of her sisters’ homes, perhaps that of Frances, whose husband was a physician, to have her first child. The recollection of their mother’s death right after childbirth must have been in all of the sisters’ minds. Abraham lost his only sister in childbirth, too. A younger brother, born when Lincoln was just three, lived only a few days. Although there isn’t any evidence to support my thinking, I can’t see any of these sensible people risking Mary’s or the baby’s life by having her give birth in a small residential hotel room.
Mary did write one clear image of the close interaction she had with her sisters. In June of 1860, Ann and C. M. Smith’s ten-year-old son died of typhoid fever. Mary wrote that the family was inconsolable and for a week she “spent the greater portion” of her time with them. Certainly her sisters would have supported her in times of sickness, loss, or loneliness.
Any of her sisters could have brought meals from their kitchens into the Lincoln home or invited Mary and the children to eat with them on the many times when Abraham was riding the court circuit or pursuing political obligations. Or when the cottage was being remodeled. Anyone who has ever lived in a house during remodeling knows how disruptive it is. The work at the Lincolns’ home began simply with some whitewashing and brickwork and expanded into cutting through walls and raising the roof, twice. Even if Mary and her help were operating out of a summer kitchen set up in the backyard washing shed, I can imagine Elizabeth might have brought by some of her famed chicken salad, or Frances might have come round the block to offer to share a meal in her home. Frances describes a close relationship between the sisters during the one interview she did give to Herndon. She spoke of the Lincolns’ backyard as “being used as a woodpile,” describing how Abraham liked to saw wood for exercise. When she “used to go over to my sister’s to visit … many times,” Lincoln would read aloud from Shakespeare and other books and sometimes “would all at once burst out in a joke.” She also said she planted flowers around their home “often.” Sharing of food could easily have been part of their family interactions.
Excavations around the home and into account books suggest specifics of the cottage’s transforming steps, beginning with the return from Lincoln’s congressional term in Washington, D.C. Mary and the boys, Robert born in August 1843 and Eddy in March 1846, had divided their time between the single room in a boardinghouse where Lincoln lived in Washington and her father’s and stepmother’s home in Lexington during the 1847–49 term. They had rented out the Springfield home and it appears they did not move right back in when the tenant left. At some point between 1849 and 1852, the first phases of remodeling were completed. With each step, the cottage became more sophisticated, until in 1856 it was a home designed and decorated to suit the position of one of the state’s leading attorneys and a candidate for the Senate or even the presidency.
Initially they hired John Roll, a local carpenter and longtime friend of Lincoln’s, to whitewash the walls and ceiling, close up the fireplaces, and install new hearths for heating stoves. Roll was one of the local lads who helped build the raft for Lincoln’s 1831 trip to New Orleans. Later, the Lincolns expanded the rear of the first floor. Carpenters, perhaps Roll, sawed through the tenons attaching the kitchen to the front part of the home and slid the entire large room five and a half feet to the south. They then enclosed a new fourteen-by-eighteen-foot room made from the old north porch and the kitchen and created a pantry room at the northeast corner and an open porch between the pantry and the new kitchen opening into the backyard, squaring off the house.
This new unheated kitchen pantry provided storage for barrels of flour and casks for sugar and cornmeal, cheese, hams, and potted meats, shelves for milk to settle and maybe even a small container to keep ice. Mary could have put up any number of essential “store sauces” and kept them there, too—pink sauce, mushroom ketchup, lemon ketchup, apple ketchup, pickles, just the thing to put on ordinary meat baked or cooked on a gridiron. Anyone who has kept house in the Midwest knows how handy an unheated garage is for storing extra foods at holiday time. This five-by-seven-foot pantry was an important addition. A picture of the open porch taken in May 1865 dimly shows pails and washtubs hanging on the back wall and the nearby water pump in the backyard, clearly showing the utility of this open space. The new first-floor room, I call it a “master suite,” with nursery sat between the old front parlor to the west and the moved kitchen to the south. With its own fireplace/stove, it would have been much warmer in the winter than the upstairs bedrooms tucked under the sloping roof.
In three more remodeling changes through 1856, the bedrooms were expanded upstairs as the front of the house was raised to a full two stories, the back was raised, and the large kitchen was divided to create a formal dining room.
With all these changes, areas of the homesite and yard were covered over—sealed up like time capsules, containing odd bits of discarded household goods, dishes, nails, and bones. Floyd Mansberger’s study comparing the animal bone remains among houses in the neighborhood indicates the Lincolns ate a greater proportion of chicken and turkeys than their neighbors the Shutts, Allens, or the unknown renters of the house known as the Cook house. They also ate a higher proportion of the better cuts of beef. But it is the pork remains that may be the most intriguing.
Bones from pigs feet made up 45 percent of the pork remains at the Lincoln home. Although most Americans don’t eat pigs feet today, they were a useful product in nineteenth-century kitchens. Cookery books offered up recipes for pigs feet stewed or barbecued, pickled, or soused in herbs and wine then chilled under a layer of fat to be eaten cold, suggesting they would keep a long time. Certainly I can imagine Abraham coming in from his travels, going into the pantry, and fetching out a crock of pickled or soused pigs feet. It is a food associated with Kentucky and southern Indiana rural foodways.
Mansberger’s research shows the Lincolns were not the only Springfield family to have this high proportion of pigs feet in their archaeological excavations. Period recipes offer some suggestions as to their use. Like calves feet, pigs feet have gelatin that is extracted by boiling for hours, straining, and then boiling for hours on the second day. It could be that Mary and the other middle-class homemakers would find this an alternative for making a fancy molded dessert. Books of the era call for flavoring the clear gelatin with wine, nutmeg, or other spices and pouring it into a mold to chill before serving. Or it could be the stabilizing base for a blancmange, Charlotte Russe, Bohemian cream, or other fancy dessert. But I’m skeptical. I c
an’t see Mary, or any busy homemaker, even with help, spending the time and attention to boil the pigs-feet broth to the reduction necessary for a fancy gelatin dessert, when they could buy any of a number of gelatinizing products at the grocery. We know that Mary did buy “red gelatin” and “Cooper isinglass” in 1859. I think there is only one reason to spend the time cooking pigs feet, and the answer demonstrates the soul of the Lincolns’ home.
On December 11, 1850, Eddy, the Lincolns’ second child, fell ill. He had always been somewhat weak and sickly. Nearly four years old, he came down with what most now consider a form of tuberculosis. There is a beautiful photographic image, easily available online, which some claim to be Eddy. It shows a sweet-faced boy with straight dark hair wearing an informal shirt and leaning against a brocade chair. The Lincoln Springfield Home staff do not think that photograph is a picture of him. However, we do know that Eddy was a sweet child, who shared his father’s love of cats, as Mary wrote to Lincoln in Washington from her family’s home in Lexington about a stray cat that Robert, the older boy, brought home: “As soon as Eddy [then two years old] spied it—his tenderness, broke forth, he made them bring it water, fed it bread himself, with his own dear hands, he was a delighted creature over it.” Now, Eddy weakened by the day. As congestion filled the little boy’s lungs, Abraham and Mary nursed him in the first-floor bedroom right next to the kitchen.
The nineteenth-century cookery books are filled with recipes for invalids, calves-feet and pigs-feet jelly among them. This is a reason for Mary to spend hours making a strengthening, clarified jelly or soup. I can imagine the cooking pot suspended over the fire or maybe sitting on a new cook stove, boiling away the pigs-feet soup until the four gallons of water are reduced to one gallon of sustaining broth, perhaps flavored with a bit of lemon, sugar, or nutmeg to tempt the young boy’s appetite. Even though the pigs-feet bones hidden away in the covered-over well were put there before Eddy’s illness, I can still see this cooking practice continuing. Mary would carefully dip the broth out and strain it though a flannel suspended over a bowl, then set the broth aside in the pantry to jell, where it would keep for a few days. I can see the worried parents, warming the jelly gently before the fire, I can see them lifting up Eddy’s head and spooning a bit of broth into his mouth, cajoling him to eat just a little, before they fluffed up his pillow, wiped his brow, and tucked in the covers. They nursed him for fifty-two days. Eddy died at six o’clock in the morning on February 1, 1850, a bit more than a month from his fourth birthday. The funeral was held in the Lincolns’ home the next morning.
When the struggle was over, Mary collapsed and could scarcely be roused for days. It is said that Abraham urged her to eat, saying “We must go on living.” Near the end of the month, Abraham wrote to his stepbrother: “We lost our little boy.… We miss him very much.”
The Lincolns’ third son, William Wallace, was born December 21, 1850.
FORCEMEAT FOR STUFFING TURKEY CRAW
This is a very rich, highly seasoned dressing. The small suggested serving is just enough to complement the turkey, cranberry, and mushroom sauces.
3 cups fresh breadcrumbs grated from a sturdy loaf
½ teaspoon dried marjoram leaves
½ teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
½ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
½ teaspoon finely grated lemon zest
3 tablespoons cold butter, cut into very small pieces
2 egg yolks, lightly beaten
Toss the breadcrumbs with the dried seasonings. Mix in the chilled butter with a fork and then stir in the egg yolks. Lightly press the forcement into the turkey craw, pulling the skin around and under. Secure the skin with a skewer, or by folding the wings backward to hold the skin in place. Store uncooked forcemeat in the refrigerator. You may form the extra into balls and place on a lightly greased cookie sheet, or simply put into a greased casserole, and bake alongside the turkey for about 15 minutes (for the balls) to 25 minutes (for the casserole) until lightly browned.
Makes about twelve ¼-cup servings
ADAPTED FROM “TO ROAST A TURKEY,” MISS ELIZA LESLIE, DIRECTIONS FOR COOKERY IN ITS VARIOUS BRANCHES, 1845.
ROAST TURKEY
When buying your turkey, estimate 1 pound per person.
1 8- to 12-pound fresh turkey
4 to 8 tablespoons salted butter, melted
2 to 3 tablespoons flour
Preheat the oven to 325°F. Wash the turkey and remove any parts packed in the cavity or craw. Pat the turkey dry and stuff the craw with forcemeat as directed in the pervious recipe. Put the turkey in a large roasting pan. Cut a folded piece of cheesecloth 2 or 3 layers thick and large enough to cover the breast and legs of the turkey. Rinse it in cold water and wring it out until nearly dry. Dip the cheesecloth in the melted butter, pressing out extra butter with a fork. Then drape the cheesecloth over the turkey, completely covering it. Put the turkey in the oven and roast, basting it every 15 to 20 minutes with remaining melted butter and then the accumulating pan juices.
Calculate baking time allowing 15 minutes per pound. About 45 minutes before you anticipate the turkey will be done, carefully remove the cheesecloth and set it aside. Baste the turkey. Dust the top of the turkey very lightly with flour by putting a couple of tablespoons of flour into a sieve, holding it over the turkey, and tapping the side of the sieve with your hand. Return the turkey to the oven to continue roasting. Near the end of cooking, insert an instant-read meat thermometer into the meatiest part of the thigh to check for doneness. It will read 165°F when the turkey is done. Remove the turkey from the oven, cover with a lid or tent with foil, and let rest for 15 or 20 minutes before carving.
TIPS FOR SUCCESS: Here’s a list of equipment to make the roasting easier—cheesecloth; bulb baster or large basting spoon; small, fine-mesh sieve. The basting cheesecloth can be added to the turkey carcass bones when you make broth from the leftovers. The flavor and browned color will simmer right out. Strain the broth before serving.
Makes 8 to 12 servings, depending on size of bird
ADAPTED FROM “TO ROAST A TURKEY,” MISS ELIZA LESLIE, DIRECTIONS FOR COOKERY IN ITS VARIOUS BRANCHES, 1845.
CRANBERRY SAUCE
Cranberries grow wild through much of the upper Midwest. Springfield newspapers advertised the tart berries’ arrival as fall turned into winter. Housekeeping columns in newspapers and magazines all suggested serving cranberry sauce as part of the holiday table. This version is quickly made with the small amount of brown sugar adding a mild caramel-like flavor to the sharp relish.
1 12- to 16-ounce package fresh cranberries
¼ cup water
½ cup firmly packed brown sugar
Wash and sort the cranberries, discarding any that are spoiled or not ripe. Combine with water in a heavy, medium saucepan. Cover and cook over low to medium heat until berries pop and the mixture becomes jam-like. Be sure to lift the cover and stir from time to time so the sauce does not stick and scorch. Add the brown sugar and stir until sugar melts into the jam. Remove from the heat and refrigerate until ready to serve.
Makes about 2 cups
ADAPTED FROM “CRANBERRY SAUCE,” MISS ELIZA LESLIE, DIRECTIONS FOR COOKERY IN ITS VARIOUS BRANCHES, 1845.
MUSHROOM SAUCE
I had never considered mushroom sauce as part of my Thanksgiving dinner, but one taste of this deliciously mellow sauce put it at the top of my traditional menu. Steeping the mushrooms in a bit of salt overnight yields a superb concentration of mushroom flavor.
16 ounces fresh white button mushrooms
¼ teaspoon salt
½ cup light cream
½ cup nonfat milk
½ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper, or to taste
2 tablespoons soft butter
2 tablespoons flour
The night before you make the sauce, slice about one-quarter of the mushrooms and sprinkle with salt to draw out their juices.
The next day, cut off and discard the stem
s of the remaining mushrooms and slice the caps into quarters. If there are small ones, you may keep them whole. Combine the mushrooms with the cream and milk in a medium saucepan. Stir in the salted mushrooms and the accumulated juices. Cook over very low heat until the mushrooms are tender and the sauce is a light beige color. Add the black pepper. Mash the butter with a fork and work the flour into it until it forms a paste. Stir this bit by bit into the mushroom mixture. Continue stirring as the sauce thickens. If sauce is too thick, add a bit more milk. Store leftover sauce in the refrigerator for 2 to 3 days. Good with other meats and vegetables.
Makes about 1 ½ cups
ADAPTED FROM “MUSHROOM SAUCE,” MISS ELIZA LESLIE, DIRECTIONS FOR COOKERY IN ITS VARIOUS BRANCHES, 1845
SOUSED OR BARBECUED PIGS “FEET”
“Soused” is slang for having consumed too much alcohol. In this case, simmering ribs in the highly seasoned wine sauce brings forth a wonderfully flavored meat. If you would like to give the ribs a traditional barbecue glazed look, a quick brush with honey and a few minutes under the broiler or on the grill will do the trick, but any additional sauce will overpower the meats. The leftover cooking liquid will nearly solidify when cold. In a Springfield back pantry, this aspic-like sauce would keep the meat shielded from drying air.
5 pounds pork spareribs
4 cups white wine
2 cups water
2 bay leaves
½ teaspoon each ground cloves, mace, coriander, and ginger
1 teaspoon each dried marjoram and thyme
Put the spareribs in a large pot with a lid. Combine the remaining ingredients and pour over the ribs. Simmer, covered, until tender. Or bake in a covered roasting pan in a preheated 300°F oven. A regular rack of ribs, cut into single rib sections, will be tender in about 45 minutes to an hour. Meatier “country style” ribs will take much longer, perhaps as long as 2 to 3 hours.