Eggs benedict is a classic brunch dish consisting of a toasted English muffin, a thin slice of lean ham (often Canadian bacon), a poached egg or two, and hollandaise sauce. Although I disdained it as a child, as an adult I have come to love eggs benedict and all of the variations that seem to crop up on the menus of brunch and breakfast places across the country. When planning this brunch, I knew I wanted to attempt a version of it. And although I sadly didn't have the time or energy to do poached eggs (someday!), I did tackle a historic hollandaise sauce (recipe below) that worked marvelously. 

But before we get to the recipes, we of course have to look into the history! The history of eggs benedict is somewhat disputed, so I did my customary dive down the rabbit hole to see what I could find.

Eggs and ham have long been served together for centuries, and one of the earliest references I could find to poached eggs and ham comes from Hannah Glasse's 1796 cookbook The Art of Cookery for "Collops and Eggs," which calls for broiled bacon (English style, which is closer to Canadian bacon than American style), beef, or "hung mutton" topped with poached eggs. 

Hollandaise sauce likely dates to the 17th century, developed in France and named after the Dutch probably because of the use of butter but also because it may have been developed during the Franco-Dutch War. A version of it is mentioned in Pierre August Varenne's cookbook, Le Cuisinier Francois (or, "The French Chef"), originally published in 1651. In this 1655 edition, we have a recipe for Asparagus with White Sauce (page 149), which includes instructions for the sauce, "make a sauce with very fresh butter, a little vinegar, salt, nutmeg, and an egg yolk to bind the sauce, which take care that it does not turn" (translated by the yours truly, with the assistance of Google Translate). Anyone who has tried to make hollandaise sauce knows that curdling the egg yolk is the biggest risk, as it can "break" or "turn," in the words of Varenne.  

Although Delmonico's claims to have invented what we know today to be eggs benedict as early as the 1860s, as is often the case, they present no hard evidence to support their claim. Gastro Obscura tackled the competing origin stories, but I have not been able to verify any of them. Suffice it to say that by the 1890s, eggs benedict was showing up in cookbooks. The 1897 Hood's Practical Cookery contains a recipe for eggs benedict, which is mostly instructions for making hollandaise sauce, and then telling the reader to top a piece of toast with fried ham, a poached egg, and to cover with the sauce. An issue of Table Talk magazine, also from 1897, appears to lift the Hood's recipe wholesale. 

Eggs and How to Use Them by Adolphe Mayer, published the following year in 1898, has a whole host of recipes using poached eggs, including eggs benedict and many variations, such as:

• eggs Blanchard, which is identical to eggs benedict except it calls for truffle sauce, instead of hollandaise
• eggs Celestine, which is identical except it calls for white sauce with cheese, and is then broiled
• eggs Coquelin, which is eggs benedict "garnished with quartered artichoke bottoms tossed in butter"

The list goes on and on, including several using croquettes or chicken forcemeat, which made my decision not to use ham all the more interesting. We'll get to that in a minute, but first, the hollandaise!

I had never made hollandaise sauce before, but with my usual learn-by-doing verve, I tackled this 1905 recipe from the Boston Cooking School Magazine.  

This recipe for Eggs Benedict came from the October, 1905 issue of the Boston Cooking School Magazine, in the "Seasonable Recipes" section. The original recipe called for thin slices of ham and poached eggs. Alas, between making everything else, I did not have the energy for poached eggs, and I decided to substitute the ham with walnut sausage (recipe below). But the hollandaise sauce recipe was an interesting one, so I decided to give it a go. Here's the original:

"Make the sauce by beating one-fourth a cup of butter to a cream and, after beating in the yolks of two eggs, with a dash of salt and pepper, cooking the mixture with one-fourth cup of boiling water and a tablespoonful of lemon juice over hot water until it thickens."

Normally hollandaise sauce is made by whisking melted butter, lemon juice, and egg yolks directly over a double-boiler or bain-marie - without hot water. This recipe intrigued me, and although it was extra work, it did not break and turned out very well indeed. Here's the modern version:

1/4 cup (1/2 stick) unsalted butter, room temperature
2 egg yolks
salt & pepper
1 tablespoon lemon juice
1/4 cup boiling water

Using small glass bowl and an electric mixer, cream the butter until soft and fluffy, then add egg yolks, salt, and pepper, and beat well, scraping down the sides of bowl as necessary. In the meantime, heat a saucepan of water over medium-low heat until steaming, but not boiling. Separately, set an electric or stovetop kettle to boil water. When the water in the saucepan is simmering, place the glass bowl over the saucepan and whisk in the boiling water and lemon juice. Continue whisking until the mixture (it will be very watery at first) is thickened. When done, remove from heat and prepare the rest of the eggs benedict ingredients. 

The original recipe says it makes enough for three eggs, but we found it made enough for more than four, as we had four eggs between we three, and we still had hollandaise sauce left over for seconds of the walnut sausage. I would say this recipe would easily cover 6 eggs (or three peoples' worth of a typical eggs benedict serving). 

Although it was finicky to beat the butter before adding the egg yolks, even with an electric mixer, it turned out very well. The addition of the boiling water did not overcook the egg yolks, and even though it probably took longer for the sauce to thicken over the double boiler, it did not break. It is important to remove the bowl from the double boiler when the sauce is thick enough, so it doesn't continue cooking. The sauce also held well, requiring only an occasional whisk before serving.

As mentioned earlier, I decided not to poach the eggs for the benedict, and so on an electric skillet I fried two eggs over hard for the husband, scrambled the two leftover egg whites for our friend, and fried one egg over easy for myself (I like a not-too runny yolk). I had toasted whole wheat English muffins earlier and they were kept warm in the oven, along with the walnut sausages. I topped the muffins with the sausage, eggs, and then poured the hollandaise sauce over. Because the eggs were not poached, they were a smidge dry. I should have buttered the English muffins first, but overall it was delicious!

So why didn't I use ham? Let's explore some of my favorite food history...

Meat alternatives are ancient, particularly in Asian countries (see: tofu, tempe, seitan), but they are not unknown in European nations. Many fake meat recipes in the West originated as recipes for Lent. Although definitions of the term "meat" have varied widely over the the decades (I've seen historical recipes that don't consider chicken and other fowl, fish and shellfish, or even lamb to be "meat"), grain and beans were common substitutes, though nuts often also played a role. Cheap and filling, they were easy to use, and foods that mimicked forcemeat, ground meat, and sausage were the easiest textures to replicate. ​

Vegetarian meat substitutes were becoming increasingly popular in the 20th century. John Harvey Kellogg, as a Seventh-Day Adventist, was a vegetarian, and he and his wife Ella Kellogg wrote a number of treatises and cookbooks on vegetarian food and healthful eating. But starting in the 1890s they also produced mock meat commercially, including nuttose and protose, the former made from peanuts, and the latter from peanuts and wheat gluten. In the 1920s apparently they even introduced Smokene, a ham variant that was closest in texture to deviled ham or SPAM. 

But it wasn't just religious people and health nuts who were interested in meat substitutes. The advent of the First World War increased interest in meat alternatives as Americans were asked to go "meatless" in addition to "wheatless" on certain days of the week. "Mock" meat had been a popular budget-extender in the 19th century, particularly with croquettes, mock oysters, mock duck, and bean-based dishes like "Boston Roast," a kidney bean and cheese loaf that gained popularity during and after World War I. Most vegetarian mock meats were reliant on combinations of legumes, nuts, grains (usually breadcrumbs), and cheese. Many were relatively flavorless, as with "Boston Roast," recipes for which generally call for no seasonings other than perhaps some onion, and to be served with tomato sauce. Some, such as mock sausage, did. In the immortal words of my husband, "sausage is just sh*tty meat with spices," and therefore, it stands to reason that the spices make up most of the flavor. I've expressed my love for leguminous sausages before (lentilwurst, lentilrizo, lentils wellington, etc.), but I wanted to try a new historical recipe.

Enter Chef Arthur Wyman, with a recipe for walnut sausage from his 1927 cookbook, Chef Wyman's Daily Health Menus. Wyman had two entire sections on meat substitutes, one of which included this recipe.

Chef Wyman's original recipe reads:

One-half cup dried lima beans, one-third cup bread crumbs, three tablespoons milk, one-quarter teaspoon pepper, one-quarter teaspoon poultry seasoning, one-quarter teaspoon salt, one teaspoon vinegar, one egg, three-quarter cup walnut meats.

Pick over dried lima beans and soak over night in cold water to cover. Drain and cook in boiling salted water until soft; again drain and force through a puree strainer. Add fine, dried bread crumbs, milk, pepper, poultry seasoning, salt, vinegar, egg slightly beaten and finely chopped walnut meats. Shape like sausages, sauté in bacon, pork or sausage fat, browning on all sides. Serve with fried apple slices. Three-fourths cup left over fresh beans or mashed potato may be used in place of dried lima beans.

And here's my adapted recipe:

1 can (14 oz) butter beans
1/3 cup panko breadcrumbs
3/4 cup walnut meats
3 tablespoons milk
1 teaspoon apple cider vinegar
1 egg
1/4 teaspoon pepper
1/4 teaspoon salt
pinch of dried sage
pinch of dried thyme
pinch of dried marjoram
olive oil & butter for frying

Pulse walnuts in a food processor but do not puree, and set aside. Drain and rinse butter beans, then puree in food processor. Mix walnuts, bean puree, egg, vinegar, milk, salt, pepper, and herbs until well combined, then stir in panko breadcrumbs to make a stiff dough. Form into patties and fry in butter and olive oil until brown on both sides. 

Lima beans and butter beans are close relatives, and the recipe called for replacing dried and cooked with fresh cooked. However, 1/2 cup of dried beans equals 1.5 cups cooked, so I'm not sure why Chef Wyman called for replacing them with only 3/4 cups of fresh beans, unless he meant before they were cooked? At any rate, most 14 ounce cans of beans equals approximately 1.5 cups, so I decided to use those. I also decided to use panko breadcrumbs, because they are the closest to breadcrumbs actually made from bread (panko is usually just wheat flour, water, and salt) and are available unseasoned. I did not fry them in pork fat because I wanted to keep them vegetarian, but definitely make sure you have plenty of olive oil and butter in the pan when frying. The second batch got a little dry. 

​These walnut sausages were the surprise hit of the brunch and we each had an extra one without eggs and English muffins (but with the hollandaise sauce), they were that good. I also had leftovers reheated in the microwave on a salad for lunch a few days later and that was also very good. The sausages are mild and not too salty, and the texture is a bit crumbly, but they really do taste of sausage. This recipe is definitely a keeper and I will be making it again, although next time I might increase the herbs slightly.

We served our eggs benedict (although perhaps with the replacement of ham with walnut sausage we should take a page from Adolphe Mayer and call them "Eggs Wyman!") with some leftover grilled asparagus, which only seemed fitting given Varenne's original 1655 recipe for Asparagus with White Sauce. They added color and delicious smoky flavor to the plate. Both the walnut sausage and the hollandaise sauce recipes I've shared here I recommend highly. Definitely give your own version of "Eggs Wyman" a try!

That's all for now. Stay tuned for the final installment of our 1920s Health Brunch recipes series, as we'll finish with recipes and some history for Fruit Puffs (1917) and stewed apricots with cream.

​Until next time! 

When looking for recipes for my 1920s Health Brunch, I stumbled across Chef Wyman's Daily Health Menus cookbook, published in 1927. Written by Arthur Leslie Wyman, I could find little about the author himself, although a very nice photograph of him is included in the cookbook. But I did find that a few years earlier, in 1923, he edited the Los Angeles Times Prize Cook Book, and another photo and short biography were included in the introduction. It reads:

"Chef A. L. Wyman, under whose direction the TIMES PRIZE COOK BOOK was assembled, acquired his mastery of cooking by an experience covering nearly all parts of the civilized world. As chef and master baker in famous cooking establishments of Europe, Egypt, India and the Orient, he has studied the cooking of all climates and races, acquiring first-hand knowledge of many exotic foods and seasonings which, when properly handled, add appetizing variety to the menu.

"He has devoted himself of late years chiefly to educational work and to the testing and writing of recipes for large food organizations, including most of California's great fruit associations. Many of the familiar recipes using peaches, figs, raisins, walnuts, oranges and other local products were originated by him in laboratory-kitchen at Glendale. 

"Chef Wyman is, and always has been, especially interested in cooking as it applies to families and home. His department of "Practical Recipes," which appears each Saturday in the LOS ANGELES TIMES, is one of the newspaper's most popular features, and helps to make THE TIMES' Saturday marketing and domestic science pages, the most widely-read department of its kind in the West."

Sadly, Wyman apparently died in 1927, though his column was taken over by his widow Mabelle, who herself tragically died of a heart attack just a few years later in 1931. As the foreword to the Los Angeles Times cookbook suggests, Wyman apparently cut his teeth in recipe testing for fruit growers in California, which accounts both for his interest in "Health Menus," and "Sunland" fruits. The Health Menus cookbook has no introduction or explanation, so I can only assume it was designed for California residents, who would have recognized his name and his column with the Los Angeles Times. At some point in the same year the Tennessee-based grocer Piggy Wiggly must have purchased the printing rights to the cookbook, as there are 1927 editions with blue cloth covers with gold lettering in two varieties. One has "Chef Wyman's Daily Health Menus" on the cover, the other, which I found, reads "Piggly Wiggly Daily Health Menus." The interiors appear to be identical. 

The cookbook is organized by month and day of the week, and includes menu suggestions for breakfast, lunch, and dinner for each day. Recipes are not provided for every suggestion, but most are present. Even today many of the recipes sound Californian, with lots of fresh fruit and vegetables, seafood, and French and Mexican flavors. Many of the recipes also call for ingredients that would be out of season anywhere else, like strawberries in January. Wyman's "Sunland Salad" recipe was one that caught my eye because of the use of citrus fruit (how brunch-y!) with the 1920s favorite pineapple and the unusual addition of raisins. It smacked of California and 1920s ideas about citrus for vitamins, raisins for fiber, and of course lettuce-salads for reducing and health. 

Chef Wyman's original recipe reads:

"Mix two cups of peeled and diced oranges with one cup of peeled and diced grape fruit, one cup of diced pineapple, and one cup of seedless raisins that have been soaked in orange juice for one hour. Mound on lettuce-covered plates and place a table-spoon of mayonnaise on each serving."

Lots going on here! "Sunland" is clearly a reference to California, and we have both oranges and grapefruit, along with raisins - all California crops, with the addition of pineapple, likely from Hawai'i. Although the original recipe says "peeled and diced," I decided to be fancy and supremed my citrus fruit. Supreming involves cutting the peel off of the fruit, removing all of the skin, and then using a very sharp knife to cut the separating membranes away, leaving only the interior arils in nice pieces. Although the recipe doesn't specify, I also decided to use canned pineapple, since that is what would have been available to most Americans at the time. Supreming the citrus fruit made a lot of juice, so I used that, topped off with pineapple juice, to soak the raisins. It also doesn't specify the lettuce, but I assumed leaf-lettuce. And because no one likes to have to use a knife to eat a salad, I used romaine for a little added crunch, and chiffonaded it. In the interest of modern sensibilities, I skipped the mayonnaise, an extremely popular fruit salad topping in the 1920s and '30s, but not so in vogue today.

Here's my version

3 smallish navel oranges
1 large ruby red grapefruit
1 cup canned pineapple tidbits
1 cup raisins
Romaine lettuce

Supreme the citrus fruits, catching the juice in a bowl and discarding any seeds and membranes. Drain pineapple, but save juice. Pour citrus and pineapple juices over raisins and set aside until ready to serve. Wash, dry, and thinly slice (chiffonade) lettuce, then chill. 

When ready to serve, make nests of the lettuce on salad plates, then combine the fruit and raisins and spoon on top of the lettuce, drizzling some of the juice over top as a dressing.

Although simple, this recipe was extremely refreshing. This recipe was very similar to the Grapefruit Salad I made for my White Christmas party, but sweeter. It made a delicious brunch salad, although Chef Wyman originally intended it to be served with dinner. The soaked raisins added an interesting depth and sweetness and the combination of oranges, grapefruit, and pineapple was delicious. Supreming the citrus fruit made it look very pretty, but if you'd prefer to just peel and chop as Chef Wyman suggested, feel free! You can also feel free to add a tablespoon of mayonnaise to each plate, if you prefer, but that's up to you. 

​Until next time...

​Our annual holiday party was a grand success, but not everyone was able to attend, so we decided to host a New Year's Day brunch. Of course, being The Food Historian, I didn't want to do just any old brunch! Recently I have been thinking both about the origins of brunch and the 1920s interest in both breakfast and brunch foods, and health foods, so let's do a brief dive into some food history before we get to the recipes.

The word "brunch" originates in the late 19th century as a combination of the words "breakfast" and "lunch," but the origins of the style of meal go back much farther. British aristocrats in the early 19th century developed breakfast culture around large spreads of cold and fried meats, eggs, porridge, and toast. These breakfasts were often served starting mid-morning and going as late as noon, particularly if the household had been at balls, parties, the opera, or theater the night before.

Gilded Age society in late 19th century America emulated the British aristocracy, but food culture at the time was centered around very rich foods - game meats, butter, cream, and sugary desserts. Late night operas and balls going well into the wee hours of the morning meant that most of America's elite did not rise until quite late indeed, and brunch became the ideal bridge between late mornings, afternoon tea, and late dinners. 

The Progressive Era, however, brought a rejection of the excesses of the Gilded Age. Food culture became more austere and more health-focused, although brunch culture continued. Some pitched brunch as the ideal way to curtail meals to two per day. Others emphasized the importance of a filling breakfast to weather increasingly demanding white collar jobs. 

The main influence on breakfast culture in the late 1910s and early 1920s was the rise of the electric home appliance. Refrigerators allowed for eggs, milk, fruit, and salads to be chilled, and also led to the rise of icebox cookies and cakes. Electric coffee percolators allowed for fresh coffee tableside, and electric toasters took the labor and much of the difficulty out of toasting bread, English muffins, and other breakfast breads. Chafing dishes allowed omelets, eggs, hash, and creamed meats to be cooked tableside, and even electric juicers allowed for freshly squeeze orange juice.

Many of these electrical appliances were designed to replace the manual labor of household servants, who were increasingly scarce as the 20th century wore on. Advances in industrial food production, particularly with canned fruits and vegetables and commercially produced gelatin, allowed ordinary Americans to access foods historically reserved for the wealthy. 

Agricultural advances also influenced breakfast foods. The expansion of the cultivation of citrus fruits, nuts, and Mediterranean fruits like apricots, dates, plums, and grapes as well as the growing of "salad bowl" vegetables like lettuce, radishes, cucumbers, and tomatoes in California, Florida, and Arizona gave more Americans access to more fresh foods than ever before, especially during the winter months. The advent of refrigerated railroad cars allowed fresh foods to be transported over much greater distances, giving people in more northerly climes access to citrus and fresh vegetables in winter. The expansion in the 1910s of commercial poultry production dramatically increased egg production, and the rise of pasteurization allowed milk to be transported over greater distances. Pork production increased during the First World War, and Americans adopted bacon as an ideal breakfast food post-war. 

Both California and Florida loomed large in American culture of the 1920s. California thanks to the shift in movie production from New York and New Jersey to Hollywood, and Florida thanks to a real estate bubble and an interest in tropical weather. The US annexation of Hawaii in 1898, US involvement in the Banana Wars in Central America, and US military intervention in the Cuban Revolution of 1917 all increased access and affordability of tropical fruits including pineapple and bananas and interest in tropical foods and cultures.

The confluence of the availability of fresh foods year-round great influenced diet culture in the 1920s. ​

The Progressive Era brought a number of health trends to the forefront of American consciousness. Vegetarianism had long been advocated by a variety of religious groups, including the Seventh Day Adventists - the most famous of whom was John Harvey Kellogg, director of the Battle Creek Sanitarium. 

Kellogg was a proponent of the ideas of Dr. Sylvester Graham, who first advocated for the healthfulness of whole grains in the early 19th century. Battle Creek Sanitarium patient C. W. Post also touted the healthful effects of whole grains. Graham flour - also known as entire wheat flour - became a popular ingredient in breads both quick and slow, but also in recipes as diverse as puddings and pies. Whole grains were seen as better sources of fiber, and fiber was seen as an important component of digestive health for a nation often plagued with constipation and dyspepsia throughout the 19th century. Dried fruits were often touted as digestive solutions - which is where prunes get their reputation. 

Among the old 19th century ideas of health foods were new ones - vitamins. Vitamin C was isolated in 1912-13, and both tomatoes and citrus fruits were quickly adopted as important sources. Influenced by French cuisine, greens-based salads  with vinaigrette were also elevated in popular society. Dressed salads like crab, chicken, tuna, egg, ham, and potato salads tossed with cream-based boiled dressings or the newly commercially available mayonnaise, were still popular. But lettuce- and vegetable-based salads gained ground as fresh foods produced in California's "salad bowl" region meant that delicate fresh tomatoes, cucumber, and lettuces were no longer restricted to the summer months and those with gardens. Low-acid vegetables like peas, corn, lima beans, green beans, and asparagus which were difficult to can safely at home, were easily available from commercial sources. Combined with commercially available gelatins, gelatinous salads and aspics, which were previously the labor-intensive purview of the wealthy with servants, became not only incredibly available, but inexpensive. Gelatin salads were made easier by electric refrigeration as well, although they would set just as well in an ice box. Combined with fresh vegetables, canned vegetables and fruit, gelatin was an ingredient in many, but not all salads.

This was the history percolating in my head when I decided to do this brunch. I researched a number of period cookbooks. I found and discarded a number of typical health food recipes of the period, including Boston Roast (1927) Doctor Salad and C.C.C. Salad from the extremely fashionable Edgewater Beach Hotel Salad Cookbook (1927), Ginger Ale Salad (1916), Prune Whip (1910), and even Pineapple Upside Down Cake (1927), a new, albeit less healthful fad of the 1920s. I wanted the meal to be vegetarian, to fit in with both period interest in vegetarianism (although it was still considered relatively fringe in the 1920s) and my modern interest in it. I also wanted the meal to be balanced, with richer and lighter flavors, different textures, etc. I also wanted a meal that could be made without a lot of assistance the morning of. Although I have no household servants, I did get assistance from my husband (washing dishes, table setting) and our friend (lettuce chiffonading, plating, washing dishes), for which I was exceedingly grateful! Some recipes turned out far better than expected (homemade hollandaise sauce) and others didn't go quite as I'd hoped (fruit puffs). ​All in all the menu turned out delightfully, so here it is!

I won't overwhelm you with all the recipes at once, but I will link back to this post as I publish them in separate blog posts. 

The table settings were more happenstance than planned. Because we were celebrating the new year, I wanted some metallics. The coupe glasses were a Target find, believe it or not, but everything else was vintage and thrifted. Most gorgeously of all was my friend's prized chocolate set from her grandmother. A beautiful lightweight porcelain with real gold details, my husband discovered from the maker's mark that it was Noritake and dated back to 1906! Precious cargo, indeed. The hot chocolate was some my husband had received as a gift for Christmas, livened up with hot milk and heavy cream. The spiced apple sparkler was Rieme brand, and it was delicious! I added some syrup-soaked cranberries leftover from Christmas' sparkling sugared cranberries (which I have been making for years) for color. The grilled asparagus was actually delicious leftovers from New Year's Eve tapas and added color to the plate of eggs benedict. 

In all the crowd favorites were, surprisingly, the Sunland Salad and Walnut Sausage. The hollandaise sauce turned out wonderfully as well. Stay tuned for all the recipes over the coming days!

And if you'd like to learn more about the history of health food and vitamins, check out my podcast episodes "Full of Pep: The Controversial Quest for a Vitamin-Enriched America" part I and part II. Happy listening!

​Until next time...

Last year I wrote about North Dakota Caramel Rolls, which have dominated the state in recent years. But funnily enough, although they are less popular now, orange rolls were equally if not more popular when I was growing up. And I found many more references to them in my historic cookbooks. 

Orange rolls in the upper Midwest (mainly Eastern North Dakota, where I grew up, and Minnesota) were popular Sunday brunch staples, although they competed about even with caramel rolls in my neck of the woods. Of course, the kind I grew up with were not made from scratch, but rather the frozen kind made by the Rhodes frozen bread company. They came with a delightful orange cream cheese frosting. But despite being a brunch staple of my Midwestern childhood, I didn't know much about these, and I wanted to try a historic recipe for a brunch of my own. 

The origins of orange rolls and their popularity in the Midwest is, like many things, a bit cloudy. If you search for "history orange rolls" today, you'll likely get a LOT of hits about ALABAMA orange rolls (scroll to the bottom for the links), but nary a one about the Midwestern kind.

Truth be told they don't look like they differ much. A sweet roll dough with orange zest and sugar rolled up like a cinnamon roll and topped with an orange glaze. So why did both Alabama and the Upper Midwest develop a love of orange rolls? Oranges aren't grown in either region. Enter the 1910s and '20s orange craze.

In the 1870s California orange agriculture exploded, and oranges - once an imported wintertime treat - became increasingly available year-round. "Orange fever" struck Florida around the same time, until a big freeze in 1894 and again in 1895 set the industry back on its heels. In the 1920s the industry got a boost from the Florida real estate boom. Cooperatives like the California Orange Growers Exchange began to market nationally using clever advertising techniques. "Sunkist" - a playful spelling of "sun-kissed" - became synonymous with the California Orange Growers co-op, and later became their official name. 

The earliest recipe for what resembled orange rolls comes from Sunkist Recipes, Oranges - Lemons, published by the California Citrus Growers Exchange in 1916. 

"Orange Pinwheels" are essentially baking powder biscuits, rolled thin, spread with butter and sugar mixed with orange juice and zest, then rolled up and sliced, with more sugar sprinkled on top. The Sunkist biscuit-style recipe survives, with or without attribution, in other cookbooks throughout the 1920s and '30s. Often, the biscuit "rolls" are called "orange rolls," not "pinwheels," which makes the research a bit confusing!

The earliest recipe I could find for yeasted orange rolls comes from Mrs. Allen's Cook Book by one of my favorite cookbook authors, Ida Bailey Allen, published in 1917. But even these aren't quite the same as what I was looking for.

Mrs. Allen's "Orange Rolls (5 Hours)" are not actually rolled up rolls - they're more like buns flavored with orange juice and candied orange peel, and then glazed with more orange peel. 

Thankfully, Frances Lowe Smith has our back with her More Recipes for Fifty, published in 1918 and containing several wartime-friendly recipes, including this one for "Orange Rolls," which are to be prepared using a yeasted dough and spread with butter and sugar mixed with orange juice and grated rind and then "rolled like cinnamon rolls." 

The first North Dakota reference I could find is for the biscuit-y kind of orange rolls, in a 1930s North Dakota Agricultural Extension circular. But looking through my cookbook library for vintage midwestern cookbooks, I also found tons of references to orange rolls! Largely from the 1930s and '40s (which is when most of my North Dakota and Minnesota cookbooks date to). I decided to go with this recipe, because it looked fairly easy and definitely quick. No getting up five hours before brunch for these beauties (sorry, Mrs. Allen). Taken from Receiptfully Yours, a community cookbook published by the Ladies' Guild of the Zion Lutheran Church of Duluth, MN, the recipe turned out very nicely!

Although Receiptfully Yours, is undated, I'm guessing it dates from the 1940s, judging by the type and the style of binding. Both the Cinnamon Roll recipe and Orange Roll variation were submitted by Ethel Mathison. I love that they used full names, instead of "Mrs. Husband's Name!" 

Like many orange rolls recipes, this one starts as a recipe for cinnamon rolls, with orange rolls listed as a variation. Interestingly, instead of having an orange glaze or cream cheese frosting, this recipe is listed much like caramel rolls! With a butter-sugar-orange-juice mixture cooked in the bottom of the pan. Here is my slight modernization of the recipe:

- - For the dough - - 
1/2 cup scalded milk
3 tablespoons butter
3 tablespoons sugar
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
1/2 cup cold water
1 envelope quick-rising yeast
1 egg
3 1/4 cups flour

 - - For the filling and glaze - -
3/4 cup sugar
2 tablespoons grated orange zest
2 tablespoons melted butter
3 tablespoons orange juice

Preheat the oven to 375 F. Mix milk, butter, sugar, and salt in a saucepan and heat over medium heat until the butter is just melted. Cool by adding cold water, then add the yeast and egg and beat well. Then add flour and mix until smooth, kneading several times. The dough will be soft. Let the dough rest 15 minutes. Roll the dough out on a floured board (or clean countertop) into a 12" by 18" rectangle. Mix 1/4 cup sugar and 1 tablespoon zest and spread on the dough, then roll as for cinnamon rolls and cut crosswise into 1 inch slices. In a 9"x13" pan, mix 1/2 cup sugar, 2 tablespoons melted butter, 1 tablespoon orange rind, and 3 tablespoons orange juice, then top with the cut dough pieces. Let rise until doubled, then bake for 20 minutes or until golden brown. Flip to serve.

These turned out beautifully, although very sweet! I used some very sweet heirloom navel oranges in the recipe, and something with a little more acidity might have been better. When I make them again, I might take a page from some of the other recipes and moisten the sugar for rolling with a little orange juice, and pick some more sour oranges. I may also bake them a smidge longer. 

Of course, I may also decide to try my hand at some of the other recipes, too!

These rolls are perfect for a weekend brunch, bridal or baby shower, or afternoon treat. Have you ever had orange rolls? How do you take yours? 

And now, as promised, a taste of the rabbit hole I went down in researching this post. The Alabama orange rolls may be more internet famous than the Midwestern ones, but it looks like they laid their claim to fame a bit later - in the 1960s and '70s, to be precise. Read on for more of the back story.

The delectable history behind Birmingham’s famous Orange Rolls

Why the Alabama Orange Roll is a Southern Classic - Southern Living

The sweet story of Millie Ray and her famous orange rolls

​The Food Historian blog is supported by patrons on Patreon! Patrons help keep blog posts like this one free and available to the public. Join us for awesome members-only content like free digitized cookbooks from my personal collection, e-newsletter, and even snail mail from time to time! Don't like Patreon? Leave a tip!

I love brunch. Not the kind you wait in line for, crowded and busy and loud. I love brunch made at home. It's as quiet or loud as you want it to be, the service is usually pretty good, and while there's the effort of making food, if you play your cards right, it's always hot when it gets to the table, and hopefully someone else will do the washing up. 

Eggs have long been a breakfast staple. If you've a hot skillet, they cook up in a flash. And if you keep chickens, you have a fresh supply every day, at least during the warmer months. But getting a bunch of eggs hot and cooked to order to the table can be a precarious thing when you're hosting. So I took to my historic cookbooks and found a viable solution - eggs en cocotte.

Technically, it's oeufs en cocotte, which is French for eggs baked in a type of dish called a cocotte, which may or may not have been round, or with a round bottom and/or with legs. Sometimes also called shirred eggs, which are usually just baked with cream until just set, these days en cocotte generally means the dish spends some time in a bain marie - a water bath. 

The cookbook recipe I used was from Practical Cooking & Serving by prolific cookbook author Janet McKenzie Hill. Originally published in 1902, my edition is from 1912. You can find the 1919 edition online for free here. 

A weighty tome of a book, Practical Cooking and Serving is nothing if not practical, and McKenzie Hill is uncommonly good at explaining things. Her section on eggs explains: "Eggs poached in a dish are said to be shirred; when the eggs are basted with melted butter during the cooking, to give them a glossy, shiny appearance, the dish is called au mirroir. Often the eggs are served in the dish in which they are cooked; at other times, especially where several are cooked in the same dish, they are cut with a round paste-cutter and served on croutons, or on a garnish. Eggs are shirred in flat dishes, in cases of china, or paper, or in cocottes. A cocotte is a small earthen saucepan with a handle, standing on three feet." 

Since my baking dishes were neither the flat oval shirring dishes, nor the handled kind, I guess perhaps they are neither shirred nor en cocotte, according to Hill, but we can afford to be less picky about our dishware. 

Hill offered two recipes: one more classic version with breadcrumbs (optional addition of chopped chicken or ham) mixed with cream "to make a batter." The buttered cocotte was lined with the creamy breadcrumbs, the egg cracked on top, with the option to cover with more breadcrumb batter. The whole thing was then baked in a hot water bath "until the egg is set." 

My brunch guest adores mushrooms, and I wanted something a little fancier and more substantial, so I went with Hill's version No. II. 

Hill's original recipe reads: Sauté a handful of chopped mushrooms with a little onion juice in butter five minutes; add a little chopped parsley, sprinkle the same on the bottom and sides of a buttered shirrer or cocotte, and break the egg into the dish. Sprinkle with the fine herbs and cook as above, basting two or three times with melted butter.

I will admit I didn't follow the directions as closely as I should have - I didn't use hot water in my bain marie (oops), and I didn't baste with butter. So the eggs were cooked a little more solid than I would have like, but still turned out deliciously. Here's my adapted recipe:

1 pint white button mushrooms, minced
2 tablespoons butter
1 clove minced garlic
salt and pepper
2 tablespoons heavy cream
2 tablespoons fresh flat leaf parsley, chopped
4 eggs

Preheat the oven to 350 F. Butter three or four small glass baking dishes. Sauté the mushrooms and garlic in butter, adding salt and pepper to taste. When most of the mushroom liquid has cooked off, add the heavy cream and parsley and stir well. Divide evenly among the baking dishes, make a little well, and then crack eggs into dishes. One or two per dish. Salt and pepper the egg, then place in a 9x13" baking pan with two inches of water (use hot or boiling water). Bake 5-10 minutes, or until the egg white is set and the yolk still runny. For firmer eggs, bake 10-15 mins. 

I did not use boiling water, so the whole thing took more like 20-30 mins for the water to heat up properly, and the yolks got firmer than I would have liked. Tasted delicious, though! This is a very rich dish, so best served with something green and piquant - I chose baby arugula with a sharp homemade vinaigrette (2 tablespoons olive oil, 2 tablespoons lemon juice, 1 tablespoon dijon mustard was enough for 3 or 4 servings of salad), which was just about perfect. 

You don't have to be a fan of mushrooms to like this dish - white button mushrooms aren't particularly strong-flavored - they just tasted rich and meaty. And despite the fact that eggs en cocotte look and taste incredibly fancy, they were very easy and relatively fast to make. If you were cooking brunch for a crowd, you could certainly prep the mushroom mixture in advance, have the bain marie water on the boil, and make the eggs your last task for a beautiful brunch. With the simple arugula vinaigrette on the side, something sweet and bready (that recipe is coming soon, too) and some fresh fruit and mimosas, you've got yourself a winner. 

Do you have a favorite egg recipe? 

​The Food Historian blog is supported by patrons on Patreon! Patrons help keep blog posts like this one free and available to the public. Join us for awesome members-only content like free digitized cookbooks from my personal collection, e-newsletter, and even snail mail from time to time! Don't like Patreon? You can leave a tip!

It's been so bitterly cold lately, I thought I would finally share this stunner of a vegetarian brunch with everyone. A few weeks ago we had a friend over for brunch. It had been a long couple of post-holiday weeks, and everyone was playing catchup at work. So I thought having something delicious and comforting for brunch would help take the edge off. A favorite local Italian restaurant of ours has an appetizer I adore - waffle fries fried with sage and rosemary with a side of gorgonzola cream sauce for dipping. It's divine. I wanted to replicate something similar at home, but brunchified, and with a little lighter hand. So I decided to roast some red potatoes with sage and rosemary and olive oil. I had intended to pick out the herbs as I'm generally not a fan of whole rosemary leaves, but everything fried up in the olive oil so beautifully that we devoured the herbs alongside the potatoes.

I topped the potatoes with a fried egg, to make things feel more breakfast-y, with a side of broiled grapefruit for a vintage feel and to cut the fat a little. Sadly I used brown sugar, so instead of caramelizing it just melted everywhere. Still tasted yummy though. We had faux mimosas (the friend doesn't drink alcohol) which were also delicious. The star of the show, though, was the potatoes and cream sauce. Divine. 

I used a fancy flake salt flavored with wild garlic, so if you're using regular sea salt, maybe add just a dash of garlic powder or some minced garlic.

6-8 medium red potatoes
1 container/bunch fresh sage
1 container/bunch fresh rosemary
olive oil
coarse sea salt

Preheat oven to 450 F. Scrub the potatoes, cut off any eyes or bad parts, and cut into similarly-sized cubes. Wash the herbs and strip the leaves off of the rosemary stems. Pop the sage leaves off of their longer stems. On a large half sheet pan, spread the potatoes, and drizzle with olive oil. Add the herbs and using your hands, gently toss everything to combine (you can do this in a bowl if it's easier) and spread out in one layer, making sure the potatoes all have a cut end facing down. Sprinkle with salt and put in the oven. Roast for 20-30 minutes, or until potatoes are perfectly tender, with crisp brown bottoms. When ready to serve, use a very flat spatula to scrape up the crispy bits and put the whole shebang, potatoes, herbs, and all, into a serving dish.

One of the miracles of heavy cream is that if you reduce it, it turns into this silky sauce with no need for a roux in sight.

1 pint heavy cream (use more if you like!)
2 cloves garlic
1+ cup crumbled gorgonzola
salt & pepper to taste

With the flat side of a knife slightly crush your peeled garlic cloves, and add them to the heavy cream in a heavy-bottomed saucepan and cook over medium heat. Let the cream simmer, but do not boil, until reduced slightly (it should coat a spoon) and fragrant with garlic. Fish out the garlic cloves and discard. Add the gorgonzola and stir to melt. Give it a taste and add salt and pepper as needed. Keep hot until ready to use.

​To make brunch, pile some potatoes on a plate, add a ladle of gorgonzola sauce, and top with a fried egg. If you're like me (over medium, please!), you like to break the runny yolk. 

If you're entertaining folks for brunch who don't want or can't have alcohol, virgin mimosas are delightful. We had sparkling cider from New Year's Eve that had gone un-opened, but you could just as easily use ginger ale or 7-up instead. 

1 part sparkling cider
1 part high-quality orange juice
champagne flutes

Are they really mimosas without the champagne flutes? Pour half and half into each flute, and don't worry about drinking too many.

Do as I say, not as I did. Brown sugar does not work. Lesson learned!

1/2 fresh grapefruit per person
1 tablespoon granulated white sugar per half grapefruit

Set the broiler to high. Cut grapefruit in half and place on a metal sheet pan or other broiler-safe dish (do not use glass baking dishes under the broiler!). Gently smooth the tablespoon of sugar over the top. Place under the broiler and cook 1-2 minutes (watch them!) until the sugar is caramelized. Serve with grapefruit spoons, if you have them. Otherwise a dessert spoon or butter knife works, too.

In the bleak midwinter, a sunny brunch can really lift the spirits. But don't skimp on the trappings. Light some taper candles. Pull out the champagne flutes and an ice bucket. Dig out the grapefruit spoons (I don't have any yet!). It can really make the difference. Don't have any of that? Make a list and keep your eyes peeled once you feel it's safe to go antiquing again. Fancy glassware can usually be had for a song at thrift shops, and since glass is inert, a quick wash in hot soapy water and it will be fit for use, no matter what shape it was in when you got it (so long as it's not broken or cracked!). 

​Have you been doing anything special lately to make winter seem less dreary? 

It's no secret that my husband and I love pancakes. Like a lot. I've adapted a single recipe endlessly - apple cinnamon oatmeal pancakes, black forest pancakes, whole grain pancakes, pear ginger pancakes, gingerbread pancakes, almond pancakes, blueberry pancakes - you name it. But I think pumpkin pancakes are one of our very favorites.

This is definitely a recipe for your days off, in large part because making pancakes is time consuming, but also because this is a huge recipe and makes approximately 30 pancakes. But Sarah! you might be thinking, how can two people eat 30 pancakes in one sitting? Well, dear reader, we can't. However, these pancakes are absolutely delicious as leftovers, staying tender even days later. You can pop them in the toaster for a reheated morning treat, or eat them cold as a snack. You can make them into a sandwich with butter and fig jam, or cover them in whipped cream (my husband's favorite).

​Pumpkin pancakes are one of those things you'll never regret having too many of. And if you've got a big family or are having a crowd for brunch? They're perfect. And don't worry, I've got tips for hot to keep the pancakes piping hot while you cook.

This recipe is about triple the original Joy of Cooking recipe I've adapted endlessly over the years. So feel free to cut it in half. But then it won't use a whole can of pumpkin. You can also cut back on the butter too, if you like, or substitute some vegetable oil.

4 1/12 cups flour (you can sub up to 2/3rds whole grain flour)
1/2 cup sugar
4 teaspoons baking powder
3 teaspoons salt
1-2 teaspoons pumpkin spice and/or cinnamon
3 eggs
1 stick (1/2 cup) melted butter 
1 can (16 oz.) pureed pumpkin
3 1/2 - 4+ cups milk

Preheat your griddle over medium heat. If using cast iron, grease it lightly. I prefer to use an electric griddle which can handle 5-6 pancakes at a time. I set the control to 350 F and let it preheat. 

Whisk the flour, sugar, baking powder, salt, and spices together until well blended in a VERY large bowl. In a separate bowl, whisk the pumpkin, eggs, and butter to combine, then add to the dry ingredients. Add 3 cups milk and whisk, incorporating the flour slowly, add more milk as necessary to make a smooth, lump-free batter. Using the measuring cup you used to add the milk, pour the batter in about 1/3 cup amounts onto the griddle. When bubbles form near the center of the pancake, flip and let brown on the other side.

Now for the savvy tip taught to me by my mother. Use a dish towel to keep your pancakes hot! Using a flat-weave dish towel, place one end on the plate you're using to pile the pancakes, and leave the long tail to cover them. Add the pancakes in an overlapping circle and keep covered by the towel in between. The towel combined with the pile of the pancakes themselves will keep everything piping hot until it's ready to go to the table. ​

Serve with butter, real maple syrup, and whipped cream for a decadent brunch. Let the leftovers cool to room temp and store in a closed container to keep them from drying out. They will keep at room temp for a few days, so if you don't plan to eat them right away, refrigerate or freeze for future use. A third cup of batter will make a pancake small enough to fit inside a conventional toaster, should you want to reheat them.   ​

I hope you enjoy these pancakes as much as we do. I'm off to eat one as a snack before heading out to do some grocery shopping. Happy eating!

The Food Historian blog is supported by patrons on Patreon! Patrons help keep blog posts like this one free and available to the public. Join us for awesome members-only content like free digitized cookbooks from my personal collection, e-newsletter, and even snail mail from time to time! Don't like Patreon? Join with an annual membership below, or just leave a tip! ​