A few days before Easter, I received a frantic phone call from my niece, Amy. Her daughter Danielle, also my niece, had just been retrieved safely by her father at an Apple store in Manhattan. She's 13 and she had run away. Amy was calling me for advice. As most of my visitors know, I have two grown children and fortunately for me, neither of them has ever run away. When my son was about 5 or 6, he did threaten to run away. Boldly, I helped him pack his little suitcase complete with sandwiches for the journey. He was running away to his father's house in Queens via the train. Reason? I was a "mean mommy." Thank goodness for both of us, my son John has always been quite sensitive. By the time he got to the back gate, he thought twice about it, sat down right where he was and decided to eat his peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Comfort food at its best. Raising children as a single mother was more than difficult in the 70's. But, as I said, I was quite fortunate. I have two wonderful children that I appreciate as much now as I did then. Sure, there were trying times. Certainly, I expected respect and truth and yes, I was a "mean mommy." How mean? I suppose with each generation "meaness" lends itself to new meaning.
I was mean because my kids had chores which had to be finished before any leisure activities could be pursued. By the time the kids were in their early teens, I was working part time at a local newspaper. I wasn't always home when they got home from school. It wasn't the way I wanted it, but, it was the way it had to be. They had responsibilities also. They had to call me at work as soon as they got in the door. After discussing the events of our day, one on one phone, the other on the extension, me at work, I doled out things that needed to be done before I got home. Dinner was usually ready to be put in the oven, homework had to be finished and the most important rule of all was, no fighting. Fellow workers would chuckle when they heard me talking to the kids. "Now no fighting you guys" they would hear me say; oblivious to the okay mommy we won't fight at the other ends of the phone. Of course, they would test the water. "Can I go to Pete's house when I'm done with my homework" my son pleaded. "No" John you can't go, not today. "I don't want your sister left home alone." I'm not working tomorrow, maybe tomorrow you can go. "Can Pete come over here" he tried. "No John, I don't want anyone in the house when I'm not there." Sometimes, I had to repeat myself, this time, I didn't. I'll be home later, I love you, bye. "You don't actually think he's going to listen to you" one of my fellow workers retorted. "Yes, actually I do" I replied confidently. She laughed, I smiled.
My son, doesn't have any children yet but my daughter has been blessed with two beautiful children, like me, a boy Noah and a girl Tabitha. The other day she called me to tell me she sent me email. "I'm just calling you to tell you to check your email" she said. "Okay" I replied "but why did you call me to tell me to check my email?" "Just check it" she said quickly, bye, I love you, she hung up. Now Michele, the younger of the two, has always been a good daughter. Even when she was bad. She was a bit whiny which was always trying on the nerves and as I write this I can only remember one time that she actually defied me. She too attempted freedom in Manhattan. She also was retrieved safely. Unlike my niece Danielle, she was punished to the fullest. No phone, (there were no cell phones yet) no TV, no after school, in school activities and no friends at the house (our house was the house all the kids "lived" at) "But ma" she winced. "No but ma me, Michele." I answered angrily. At this moment, I said, I'm not liking you very much. The disappointment showed on her face. I quickly retorted; I don't always like you but I always love you. I'm confident, her reply was in the email. It's also on the web. It's titled, Mean Moms.
Leafing through the brittle and grease-stained pages of cooking volumes is much like peering through a kitchen window: the recipe book alludes to meals and events, people and places, successes and failures, joys and sorrows, lives and deaths of those loved and known.
Janet Theophano, curator; Aresty Collection
You may be asking yourself, aren't we suppose to be celebrating the birth date of Esther Bradford Aresty today? What's all this kid talk? Yes, March 26th (1908) is the birthday of Esther Bradford Aresty. And no, I haven't gotten side tracked by kids. Quite the contrary, Esther Bradford Aresty has much to do with my "other kids" my cookbooks. I don't always like them but, I always love them. About 10 years ago, I moved to Pennsylvania. Before that day, it never occurred to me that I would leave Long Island. The short of it is, my son was a student at Penn State. I went to visit, discovered a charming Victorian town, decided to move there. The move was surprisingly easy. It's only about 5 hours away I told myself. "The change will do you good" I thought. Change, that's what I needed. I decided not to take anything with me. I was even going to get a new computer. The books, what am I going to do with the cookbooks? My son is somewhat of a bibliophile and an avid comic book collector. I'll give him my other "collectible books" and donate my cookbooks to a library. What library? Now, remember, the internet was not the same as it is today. Dare I say, there was no google. Infoseek was my choice search engine. By some miracle, I tripped across the Aresty Collection at the University of Pennsylvania. There I was introduced to Esther Bradford Aresty. Now, here was a woman who moved to a small town in Iowa, enjoyed a suburban life and valued good food. She had a prominent career and, she was also a collector of rare books on etiquette and the culinary arts. Spanning five centuries, her books fill the Esther B. Aresty Collection on the Culinary Arts at the University of Pennsylvania.
The Esther B. Aresty Rare Book Collection on the Culinary Arts comprises cookery manuscripts and published books of recipes, etiquette and household advice. Spanning an historical period from the earliest printed folios of the fifteenth century to the more recent and familiar volumes of the twentieth century, the books represent cultural and geographical diversity ranging from Europe and the New World to the Far East. (source)
The Delectable Past
For the past twenty years, it has been my rewarding hobby to collect old and rare cookbooks. This book is the result of my adventuring through their pages. The more I wandered around in those precious volumes, the more I wanted to share them with others, and so, The Delectable Past came about. (Esther B. Aresty)
A light went on in my head. I have a book by her in my library. I dug it out. (I was already packing:) As soon as I read the above lines, I knew I had to rethink my decision. If only I could share my books. If only I could digest everything ever written on the culinary history of the world. If only I could express to someone who would listen. Much like Esther, my cookbooks are a rewarding part of my life. I have received unconditional comfort with them, in them and yes, by them. Sometimes, I suppose, I get "angry" at them. They take up so much room. I am forever reorganizing and resorting them. Collectively, they are very heavy and quite cumbersome. And quite frankly, they take up much of my free time. Although my children would adopt some of my books, do I really want to separate them? Like brothers and sisters, they share the same shelves. At times, I've had them sprawled all over tables and chairs and floors, but, they were always together. Yes, that was about 10 years ago. They now live with me in Pennsylvania. Sometimes, I don't always like them but, I always love them.
It wouldn't be fair for me to attempt to digress The Delectable Past - The Joys of the Table - From Rome to the Renaissance, From Queen Elizabeth I to Mrs. Beeton, The Menus, The Manners - and the Most Delectable Recipes of the Past, Masterfully Re-created for Cooking and Enjoying Today, by Esther B. Aresty, (1964) when it is so eloquently served within the pages of the book itself.
Here, for perusing and cooking, are the lost joys of the table garnered by Esther Aresty from her collection of rare old cookbooks. Here is a 16th century version of Italian Green Sauce, and the original Pie That the Birds May Flie Out Of. Here is the banquet menu for a Renaissance Pope, and a Victorian clergyman's poetic Potato Salad. An Elizabethan cook sets down a recipe for a Tart to Provoke Courage Either in Man or Woman, while a housewife lists her dowry including "45 payer of sheets and one gray horse." We discover from the great La Varenne, chef in the time of Louis XIV how noblemen dined when they went to war; we learn why we owe French sauces to a Bavarian baron (Ed note: Count Rumford) from Massachusetts, and so says the 17th century Roti-Cochon that "Venison pate is too good for disobedient children."
Just as difficult, is selecting a recipe. I did a quick pop around the internet to see if I could find any recipes from the book. Although, I did find a few sites with "adapted" recipes, from her book, I was a bit disappointed not to find any verbatim. Perhaps, I didn't dig deep enough. I'm usually delighted when I don't find a recipe online. It affords me the opportunity to make a contribution but, in this case, it's a shame. What I'm trying to say, is find the book, buy it and enjoy it. You won't be disappointed. I promise:) I've chosen the Mustard Soup recipe to share because I am slightly crazed by mustard. I like it A LOT! Before I leave the recipe, let me give you a taste of Esther's introduction to the soup.
While Richard Plantagenet's cooks were smiting and hewing their way through royal menus, a move gently phrased cookery manuscript had been prepared in the kingdom across the Channel. Le Viander was compiled by Guillaume Tirel (Tailevent) about 1375 for the cooks of Charles V, also a monarch with a taste for the better things. A "viander" is a meat cook, and the manuscript had a special section on roasts which included along with mutton, kid and venison pigeons roasted with their heads intact...Among the potages (soups-stews), one recipe employed mustard as a seasoning for the broth. Using Taillevent's ingredients, a delicious soup emerges that may be served hot or cold. Either way, its lovely green color is as refreshing as its taste.
Mustard Soup2 tbs. butter 3 tbs. prepared yellow mustard 2 tbs. flour 2-1/2 cups thoroughly skimmed chicken stock, heated | 1-1/4 c. rich milk, heated 1/2 tsp. salt, dash white pepper 1/2 tsp. onion juice 2 egg yolks 2 to 3 tbs. sweet cream |
| Melt the butter, stir in the flour and blend smoothly. Add the hot chicken stock and milk, and whisk until smooth. Add salt, pepper and onion juice. Simmer for 10 to 15 minutes. Cool slightly. Combine egg yolks and cream and add to the soup, custard style that is, temper first with a few spoonfuls of the warm broth. Last, add the mustard. If served cold, garnish with a dab of whipped cream. If hot, garnish with pancake shreds or green peas. |
I couldn't resist including this scanned recipe for Stuffed Mushrooms. The previous page has the introduction which goes like this:
La Verenne used mushrooms in many recipes, but none surpasses the stuffed mushrooms he introduced to French cookery (Champignons Farcis). He also devised the famous sauce of onions and mushrooms which now goes by the name of Duxelles, but which La Varenne called simply Champignons a l'Olivier. The custom of honoring a man's name in a recipe had not yet begun; at some later point the sauce was renamed for La Varenne's employer, the Marquis d'Uxelles. Just who selected the Marquis for immortality instead of La Verenne is not clear; at any rate it was an injustice.
FYI: Today also happens to be the birth date of Benjamin Thompson; Count von Rumford. (mentioned above) Count Rumford invented the percolator, a pressure cooker and a kitchen stove. He is frequently encased in the History of Baked Alaska.
Resources
- 1. Esther Bradford Aresty (bio)
- 2. To make Pies that the Birds may be alive in them...scroll down
- 3. The Delectable Past, by Esther B. Aresty article
- 4. New York Times obit