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! 

A few weeks ago, COVID finally got me, and making myself a simple chicken noodle soup made me feel so nourished, even as I felt terrible. So when a friend told me she had also gotten COVID, feeling fatigued with a cough, I knew I had to make something and bring it over. But my friend is vegetarian, so chicken soup was out. What to make? Inspiration struck in the form of chickPEA noodle soup. 

I didn't have any intention of posting this recipe, but my friend thought it was so good she demanded I share, especially since vegetarian and vegan-friendly alternatives to chicken soup are often so few and far between. It is incredibly easy and quick to make, so even if you don't have anyone to cook for you, you can tackle this recipe. If you are feeling under the weather, this will perk you right up. To be honest, in many ways, I thought it was better than traditional chicken noodle soup, and it will probably go in regular rotation, especially when I'm not feeling well. 

This soup relies heavily on the quality of your vegetable stock. I used Better Than Bouillon refrigerated organic vegetable bouillon doctored with some herbs and turmeric for color and flavor and it turned out lovely. It also scales up nicely and frankly, the bouillon is the most expensive ingredient! Everything else is eminently affordable. If you're feeding a crowd or want to double the recipe for a week of lunches or to freeze, you can. It's also extremely quick. The whole thing, including chopping vegetables, probably took about 30 minutes, start to finish. Which is nice when you're feeling under the weather or you need some comfort food in a hurry.

2 tablespoons fat (I used 1 each olive oil and salted butter)
1/2 cup sliced carrots
1/2 cup minced celery
1 small onion, minced (about 1/2 a cup)
1 clove garlic, finely minced
1 can chickpeas
4-5 cups water
4-5 teaspoons bouillon (less if you like a thinner, less salty broth, substitute 1 bouillon cube per teaspoon)
a few generous shakes of ground turmeric
a shake or two of dried thyme
a pinch of dried marjoram
a pinch of ground pepper
1 bay leaf
a small handful (about the size of a nickel) of short spaghetti

In a large stockpot over medium heat, sauté the carrots, celery, and onion in the fat until the onion is translucent. Add the garlic and stir well. Let it keep cooking while you drain, but do not rinse, a can of chickpeas. Add the chickpeas and water to the pot, then add the bouillon and herbs and spices. Bring to a boil, reduce heat to medium-high, and let cook until the vegetables and chickpeas are tender, 5-10 minutes. Then add the spaghetti and simmer/boil until the spaghetti is tender. Serve hot with plenty of fresh bread and butter, or biscuits (my friend felt well enough to make some garlic cheddar biscuits. I was jealous), or Saltines, or any other comforting carb you prefer. 

The vegetable bouillon I used does have tomato in it, so discerning palates will be able to detect a hint of tomato in the broth, but it's not particularly noticeable. If you are using boxed vegetable broth, add a tablespoon of soy sauce (an ingredient in the bouillon) or miso paste for some extra umami flavor and richness. 

The tender chickpeas really do mimic the flavor and texture of chicken, and the broth is almost identical. Don't skimp on the fat - you want some of that golden goodness floating on top. But my husband commented that it tasted less greasy than chicken noodle soup, and that he preferred this lighter version. From a distance, it even looks like chicken noodle soup. 

Keep this recipe in your back pocket when you are in need of some comforting. It's easy, inexpensive, and healthy. Just the ticket to get you feeling better. You could also easily riff this soup to substitute potatoes or rice for a gluten-free alternative to the pasta, add other vegetables like frozen peas and/or corn, and add cream or milk for a creamier broth. If you like your soup brothier, add more water and more bouillon. If you don't have chickpeas and want to substitute another type of legume like cannellini beans, I recommend adding them after the pasta is done cooking, otherwise you'll end up with beautiful, golden, bean mush. Chickpeas are a little sturdier and I find they often need extra cooking to soften them up a bit, but cannellini beans will start to disintegrate after a few minutes of boiling.  

I hope you haven't been sick recently, but this new extra-contagious variant is going around, and most of us have spent the last two years avoiding getting regular colds and the flu, so our immune systems aren't quite as up to the challenge as they might usually be. The season of spring also means pollen, leading to irritated throats and sinuses for some of you. This soup will make you feel better, whatever ails you. Stay healthy, dear reader.

​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!

As I'm sure many of you have, I've been thinking a lot about Ukraine and Eastern Europe these days. Last week I launched a Substack specifically so I could give food history commentary on current events, and my first post was all about Ukraine.

I've long had an interest in the cuisines of Eastern Europe and the states of the former Russian/Soviet empires. Their creative use of ordinary ingredients and emphasis on fresh fruits and vegetables is extremely appealing to a Midwesterner raised on meat and potatoes. The connection to the land, gardens, and older folks also reminds me a lot of visiting my great-grandmothers in rural North Dakota, who kept huge gardens, and dirt cellars full of preserved foods. I'm always on the lookout for new cookbooks in this vein, so when I saw the following, I snatched it up.

The week before the Russian invasion of Ukraine - Cuisines of the Caucasus Mountains: Recipes, Drinks, and Lore from Armenia, Azerbaijan, Georgia, and Russia by Kay Shaw Nelson arrived at my door. First published in 2002, it's written by Nelson, an American who studied Russian language and literature and later became enamored of the food of Georgia (which I am also very interested in). She covers the whole of the Caucasus Mountains, and writes eloquently on each country and their regional differences in agriculture, wild foods, terrain, and foodways.

Nelson's original "Poached Eggs in Spinach" recipe is pretty straightforward, and as she remarks in the headnotes, tomatoes and green beans are an alternative vehicle for the poached eggs (similar to Middle Eastern shakshuka). However, her recipe leaves a bit to be desired. Because spinach is the main vehicle of this dish, if you don't season the cooked greens and the eggs well, it will be a flop. Here's my adaptation of her original recipe.

2 packages frozen spinach (10 ounces each), cooked and drained
salt, pepper, and whatever other spices you like
lemon juice
6 eggs
1 1/2 cups plain yogurt
2 garlic cloves, finely chopped
1/2 cup shredded mozzarella
salt
pepper
dried dill
butter for the baking dish

Preheat your broiler. Season the spinach with salt, pepper, and lemon juice. Place in a well-buttered baking dish (not glass, which is not broiler safe) and make six indentations for the eggs. Mix the yogurt, garlic, and mozzarella. Crack the eggs into the indentations, then spread the yogurt evenly over the top (I skimped mine a little because I was using fewer eggs, and shouldn't have). Top the yogurt with more salt and pepper and dried dill. Broil for 10-15 minutes or until the yogurt is bubbly and browned and the egg whites are set. 

Two eggs per person was plenty, and the leftovers weren't bad, although the egg will obviously cook more once you reheat it. I ate mine all mixed up with some buttered cracked wheat toast (Heidelberg Bread Company in New York makes the BEST toast).

This turned out pretty well, all things considered. Without the seasoning it would have been especially bland, so make sure you season your greens!

A few things I would change - press more of the water out of the spinach and add more lemon juice, add chopped fresh dill and parsley to the spinach mix, or lemony fresh sorrel if I could find it. I think I would also add onion or more garlic to the spinach itself, instead of just the topping. I would also follow the instructions and use more yogurt for the topping - the places where the egg white wasn't covered it got a little tough in the oven. I think I would still stick with just six eggs, instead of eight, because it was a nice ratio of egg-to-spinach, so the spinach felt like a substantial part of the meal, instead of a garnish for the eggs. I might also try this again in a stovetop-safe vessel like a cast iron skillet, or pre-heat the spinach in the oven before adding the eggs. The bottoms of the eggs were still a little undercooked and the tops were a bit tough. 

That being said, this was a surprisingly satisfying dish, and anything that gets more dark leafy greens into the diet is always a good thing. I would definitely try this again, but with some changes to make it more flavorful.
​
What do you think - would you try it? 

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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 the depths of January. And after months of holiday eating, life can feel depressingly uninspiring when it comes to food. But while the imported tropical fruits beckon, it is possible to make a perfectly delightful dinner out of foods that are (mostly) in season here in the northeast.

Enter the butternut squash. I'm typically not a huge fan. Butternut squash soup is usually much too sweet. Mashed squash is insipid and mealy. But when a Patreon patron posted about making Emily Nunn's delicata squash salad with parsley and walnut vinaigrette and raved about it, I was intrigued. 

I didn't have delicata squash, just one lonely little butternut left over from my impulse buy Thanksgiving CSA haul. I did have a big bunch of parsley, but I think it got a little frosty in the frigid temperatures we've been having lately, so bits were crispy and wilted. It would take some sorting. I also had a bottle of walnut oil I'd bought last year, and mostly hadn't used, which was set to expire in February. In the fridge, half a block of the most deliciously creamy, salty, made-in-New-York cow's milk feta (the sheep's kind and I don't get along) was languishing. Inspiration was striking.

I'm an inveterate tinkerer when it comes to cooking. Even the respected science of baking usually has me asking, can I put fruit in this? Can I substitute some whole grain flour? Do I really have to beat the eggs for three whole minutes? Even as I don't mess with the ratios otherwise. So it's no surprise that I would be clinically unable to replicate Emily's recipe as she wrote it. The bones were good, though, so I stuck to those. Here's what I came up with:

This recipe seems complicated, but once the vegetables are cut and in the oven, it's a fair amount of waiting. You can do a pan of dishes or start a load of laundry or watch most of an episode of your favorite television show while you wait.

1 smallish butternut squash
2 smallish yellow storage onions
walnut oil
pink salt
garlic powder
black pepper
dried sage
walnuts
feta (the good-quality, locally made wet kind)
fresh flat leaf parsley
fresh baby spinach
balsamic vinegar
Dijon mustard
maple syrup

Preheat the oven to 400 F. Generously coat a half sheet pan with walnut oil (you can use olive or canola, if you prefer). Wash butternut squash and cut neck into one inch rounds. Cut in half and with a sharp knife remove the peel. I left the bulb end, cut it in half, scooped out the seeds, and roasted the halves whole with the rounds. Flip the half moons of squash in the oil so they're well-coated. Peel and halve the onions, cut into rounds, and add to the oiled pan. Combine about 2 tablespoons of pink salt, at least a teaspoon of black pepper, a few shakes of garlic powder and dried sage, and sprinkle the mixture all over the squash and onions. Roast for 30 minutes, flip, season again if you like, and roast for another 10 minutes or so, until the squash is crispy on one side and very tender, and the onions are tender. Scatter a generous handful of walnuts across the pan and roast another 3-5 minutes, until the walnuts are fragrant.

Meanwhile, assemble your plate with the baby spinach topped with just the whole leaves of washed and dried parsley. Make a vinaigrette of about 3 tablespoons walnut oil, 2-3 tablespoons balsamic vinegar, and 1 tablespoon each Dijon mustard and maple syrup (add more syrup or a tablespoon of water if it seems too sharp). Top the greens with slices of squash, onions, and walnuts, drizzle over the vinaigrette, crumble feta on top, and serve while the vegetables are still warm. ​

This salad is divine. The butternut squash came out silky and rich, the onions soft and not-too-sweet, the walnuts pleasantly crunchy, the parsley added some fresh, grassy tones to the milder spinach, and the sweet-sharp balsamic vinaigrette tied everything together. There was one slice of butternut squash left on the pan, so I tried it with some of the leftover onions and walnuts (which I stuffed in the cavities of the squash halves with the rest of the vinaigrette, for lunch tomorrow). To be honest, the squash was so good I could have eaten it just like that. But it really added so much satisfying heft to the salad. 

I don't think I'll ever make butternut squash any other way again. It was too delicious this way, and I could see it being the star of any number of other salads as well. 

It's hard to find satisfying, fresh recipes for winter eating that don't involve ingredients flown in from thousands of miles away. And while I love the wintertime treat of beautiful citrus, it's nice to be able to make something so delicious out of locally grown storage foods, too. I hope you enjoy this recipe as much as I did!​

Last Monday I gave a talk on the history of vegetarian food, and the subject of my vegan dinner came up! So I thought I would take the opportunity to share the recipe with you, since so many have asked for it. 

This is one of my favorite recipes for an easy, delicious supper - perfect for cold weather - and is often in rotation during the fall and winter months. I call it French Lentil Bowl because I used French green Puy lentils, and Dijon mustard vinaigrette, but also because lentils vinaigrette is an old-school French dish. I use lentils vinaigrette in a variety of salads and other dishes (notably one delicious, but very rich, recipe for creamed Dijon lentils with ham I found in the French Vegetable Cookbook by Patricia Bourne), so it's safe to say I'm a lentil fan (don't believe me? Try the lentilwurst). They're quicker and easier to cook from dried than beans and the green Puy lentils (black Beluga lentils also work well) have a hearty texture and peppery flavor that I just love. If you've only ever had lentils in the murky brown soup, give this recipe a try. 

This recipe makes a lot, but also makes wonderful leftovers and reheats nicely. If the carrots and onions seem excessive, let me note that they are so delicious you will almost always regret not making more. 

2 cups green/French lentils
3 cups water
2 bay leaves
1-2 cloves garlic (optional)
2 pounds carrots (baby carrots are fine)
3-4 red potatoes
3-4 yellow storage onions
extra virgin olive oil
sea salt
dried thyme
ground turmeric
ground black pepper
white wine vinegar
Dijon mustard

Preheat the oven to 450 F. Add the lentils, water, bay leaf, and garlic to a 2 quart pot, cover, and cook over medium-high heat. Once boiling, reduce to medium-low heat and continue cooking until the lentils are tender and all the water is absorbed (approximately 20 minutes). 

While the lentils are cooking, wash and cut the carrots. If using full-size carrots, wash, peel, and cut into thick julienne. Pieces should be no larger than your pinky finger. If using baby carrots (I like the rainbow heirloom ones for color), wash and cut fat ones in quarters, medium ones in half, and leave the skinny ones. Toss in olive oil and arrange in a thin layer on a half sheet pan. Sprinkle with thyme and sea salt.

Then scrub and cut red potatoes into chunks about 1-2 inches square. I usually cut the potato in half lengthwise, then in half lengthwise again, then cross-cut into chunks. Toss with olive oil and arrange on a half sheet pan - it should take up about 2/3 of the space. Sprinkle with sea salt and add a few cloves of garlic to scent them, if you like. Then cut the root part off the onions, cut in half, remove the papery skin, and cut into finger-width slices. Toss with olive oil, a generous sprinkling of turmeric (1/2-1 tablespoon), sprinkling of black pepper, and arrange the onions on the remaining 1/3 of the baking sheet (you can do the tossing and stirring right on the baking sheet).

Pop both sheets into the oven for about 20 minutes. Meanwhile the lentils are probably done. In a largish bowl, add at least 3 tablespoons of olive oil, at least 3 tablespoons of white wine vinegar, and 1-2 tablespoons of Dijon mustard. Whisk with a fork until well-blended, then add your hot lentils (fish out the bay leaves and garlic and discard) and stir well to combine. Let rest until the vegetables are done - they'll keep their heat.

​When the potatoes are tender, the onions melting, and the carrots browned and tender, pile about a half cup of each of the vegetables into a shallow bowl and serve hot. If you like, you can add a dollop of cold cottage cheese or some crumbles of goat cheese or feta on top, or garnish with toasted walnuts, but it's really delicious as-is. ​

It's also a great and inexpensive way to feed a crowd. To turn it into dinner party fare, I recommend starting with a salad of baby greens with sliced Bosc pears and a sprinkling of walnut oil and pear vinegar, and serving the lentil bowls with either whole grain toast or garlic bread. Finish with a very French cheese course or simple baked apples, fruit crisp, or custard dessert (like clafoutis). 

This recipe is, of course, quite accidentally vegan. I did not develop it with the intent that it would be vegan, it just happens to be completely delicious without meat, eggs, or dairy. And since French food was all the rage during the First World War, I thought it a very apt addition to the Meatless Monday list. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do! If you make this recipe, share your thoughts in the comments, or tell me your favorite lentil dish!​

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For the first time in my life I've signed up for a CSA and last week got my first box. It was just crammed with greens! A bunch of lactinato kale, a bunch of rainbow chard, a bag of spinach, two stalks of green garlic, two little red lettuce heads, a bunch of fresh basil, a purple daikon radish, and a dozen eggs! Thankfully we love greens in my household and simple creamed greens is one of my favorite ways to eat them.

You may be familiar with creamed spinach, but in the 18th and early 19th centuries, spinach and cream was more likely to be served with sugar than with garlic. It's really not until the turn of the 20th century that savory creamed spinach becomes a steakhouse staple (and even then it's often still got nutmeg in it).

​Although creamed spinach is quite good, I actually prefer to cream sturdier greens. Kale, in particular, especially the curly kind, is very good creamed. It's not as meltingly soft, but I prefer a little more texture. Many creamed greens recipes use a white sauce or cream cheese, and while those are good, the easiest way to make them is simply to reduce cream with a little salt. It gives the greens a creamy coating without overpowering them.

This dish turned out even more delightfully than I expected. Be forewarned - like most dishes of cooked greens, it takes a lot to make a lot. This recipe results in really just two hearty servings - four if you're eating other foods on the side. You can of course substitute just about any hearty greens in this dish. For a richer dish, use heavy cream instead of half and half (which was all I had in the fridge). 

2 tablespoons butter
2 stalks green garlic
1 bunch lacinato kale
1 bunch rainbow chard
1/3 cup or so half and half
4-6 small leaves fresh basil
2 inch square of feta, plus extra for garnish
salt to taste
whole grain toast

In a dutch oven, melt the butter over medium-low heat. Slice the green garlic thinly crosswise, white and green stalk (discard the tough leaves), then mince. Add to the butter. Chiffonade the kale and finely slice the stems of the rainbow chard. Add to the butter and garlic and increase the heat to medium. Sautee until the stalks are tender. Chiffonade the swiss chard leaves and add to the pot. Sautee a little longer, until all greens are wilted. Meanwhile, mince the basil finely. Add the cream, basil, and feta. Increase the heat to medium-high and simmer until the cream thickens and is almost completely absorbed. Pile on hot toast and garnish with more feta. 

The garlic and basil flavors were subtle but delicious. If you like stronger flavors, add more basil and use clove garlic, or add the green garlic later in the cooking process. 

You might think that a pile of greens with a few crumbs of cheese is not a very satisfying meal, but you would be wrong. The greens are part silky, with tender but toothsome bits of stalk. The feta adds a salty tang and it's all tinged with fragrant basil and garlic. It is very true, however, that two whole bunches of greens does cook down quite a lot, and my husband and I ate the whole pot, just the two of us. So if you're looking to get more greens in your diet, this is a great way to go! But if you're cooking for a crowd, definitely double or triple the recipe.

Do you have a favorite way to eat dark leafy greens? 

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I made curried chickpea salad last week, and it was so delicious, I thought I would share it for Meatless Monday. Although it is not a historic recipe, clearly it's a riff on curried chicken salad, which had its heyday in the mid-20th century, although you still see it on restaurant menus, especially tea rooms and bakeries and small cafes. 

It's not super clear when precisely curried chicken salad was invented, but there are lots of references throughout 19th century American cookbooks to all sorts of curried dishes - eggs, oysters, veal, cucumbers, shrimp, okra, and yes, chicken, although not in a salad until the 20th century.

Country Captain is one of the first curry dishes in the United States, and may have inspired curried chicken salad in the 20th century. Made with browned chicken, onions, curry powder, tomatoes or tomato sauce, and golden raisins or currants, it was meant to be served over rice and likely originated in the Carolinas, where rice cultivation (fueled by slave labor) was common. It is called "country captain" because it was apocryphally introduced via a sea captain returning from India and/or involved in the spice trade.

This savory, sweet, and mildly spicy flavor combination has been deemed by some historians to be the first fusion food in U.S. history. But it is unclear where curried chicken salad as made in the United States draws its roots. It may very well be from the flavor profile of Country Captain, and mayonnaise-based salads were exceedingly common by the turn of the 20th century. Some enterprising soul may have come up with the idea independently.

However, in 1935, King George V of Britain celebrated his silver jubilee, and although I cannot find an original menu from the event, everyone swears a cold chicken dish with curried mayonnaise was part of the dinner (which some people thought was an unnecessary extravagance during the Great Depression). The dish was recycled (perhaps inadvertently) for Queen Elizabeth's coronation in 1953, this time with some fancier additions of tomato, pureed apricot, red wine, and whipping cream (try the original recipe). Jubilee chicken and coronation chicken, as the recipes have come to be known, are still quite popular in Britain, although they rarely show up on American shores under that name.

At the same time, prior to Queen Elizabeth's coronation, we do have recipes in the United States calling simply for cooked diced chicken, mayonnaise, curry powder, and diced celery (like this one). Basically, plain jane chicken salad with some curry powder thrown in for flavor. This 1930 cookbook has a recipe for chicken salad with grapes or raisins, and a recipe for curry salad dressing (curry powder, vinegar, and mayonnaise), but the two aren't put together. 

So again, the official origins are unclear. But suffice to say, a curried chicken salad with celery and some variation of either golden raisins, currants, diced apple, and/or grapes has become an alternative to the more traditional (and boring) basic chicken salad.

I chose to replace the chicken with canned chickpeas in part because poaching chicken is a drag and I hate the canned stuff. But also because not only are canned chickpeas easier and more accessible than poached chicken, they're a little healthier for the gut, too. Vegetarians and vegans often use chickpeas as a substitute for chicken or tuna. It turned out even better than I remembered from the last time I made it, and it seems appropriately vintage, even if it isn't actually historic. 

A quick weeknight supper perfect for when it's too hot to cook, but equally at home at a tea party. To make this vegan, substitute all vegan mayonnaise for the yogurt and mayo.

2 cans (16 oz.) chickpeas, or 3 cups cooked from dried
3 ribs celery, minced
1/2 cup shredded carrots (I use the bagged kind)
1 small, sweet, crisp apple, minced
1/2 cup Greek yogurt
1/2 to 1 cup mayonnaise
1/2 to 1 tablespoon high quality curry powder
salt & pepper to taste

Drain and rinse the chickpeas, then mash roughly with a fork. I don't like any whole chickpeas in mine, but neither do I want a puree. Add the celery, carrots, and apple and mix well with a fork to combine. Add the yogurt and curry powder and mix, then add the 1/2 cup of mayo and mix. If too dry, add more mayo. Taste and add more curry powder, salt, and pepper if necessary. The warm spices of the curry powder set off the creaminess of the mayo and yogurt and the sweetness of the apple nicely, and the celery and carrots add crunch and texture. I like mine served open-faced on whole grain toast. The hubby prefers his sandwich closed on untoasted bread. You can also eat it with crackers, in a wrap, or frankly, with a spoon.

If you want to try something more country captain style, add golden raisins and a little tomato paste. For something more coronation-style, try diced dried apricots or a few tablespoons of mango chutney. Add lemon or lime juice for tang, or leave it out. But whatever you do, don't use that little jar of curry powder that's been in the back of your spice cabinet for years. Get yourself a new jar or better yet, go to a store with a bulk spices section and get some fresh stuff that way.

Have you ever had curried chicken salad? Or chickpea salad? Tell us your favorite quick weeknight dishes in the comments!

Rice is one of the world's oldest cultivated crops. Domesticated in China as many as 15,000 years ago, trade routes helped spread this grain across the ancient world. Rice has many different uses, but porridge-y things, from congee to rice pudding, seem common in cultures around the world. Although Americans may be most familiar with Asian "white rice" and "brown rice," there are actually hundreds of different varieties. In fact, the first rice to be cultivated in the United States was actually an African variety.

The development of rice plantations in the American South is a direct result of skilled labor and knowledge by enslaved Africans exploited by the people who enslaved them. South Carolina and Georgia in particular were some of the few places in North America where rice was grown commercially until the later 19th century, when rice spread to Louisiana and Texas. In the early 20th century, Arkansas and California followed suit. Today, Southern states still grow Carolina varieties of African rice, while California focuses more on japonica varieties of Asian rice, likely influenced by Chinese immigration during the Gold Rush of the 1840s and after. 

Early recipes for rice pudding included cooking it in a pie crust, baking it with just butter and milk, or in a custard. In the U.K., a short-grained "pudding rice" is most often used to make rice pudding. In the U.S., Americans tend to use long grain white rice varieties. You don't find rice pudding too often these days. Usually relegated to nursing homes and hospitals, you'll occasionally find it on restaurant (or especially New York deli) menus. But I think rice pudding deserves a revival.   

When life has you down, nothing tastes more comforting and nourishing than homemade rice pudding. But rice pudding can be finicky stuff to make. I don't know when I discovered the idea for this genius recipe, but I'm sure it was somewhere on the internet about ten years ago. This recipe couldn't be easier, and it's the only one I ever use. No eggs, no custard, no baking, one pot and done. So simple. 

As a Scandinavian, rice pudding is in my blood. This one is a cross between the traditional Norwegian kind, served hot and cinnamon-y at Christmas, with a lucky almond in someone's bowl resulting in a marzipan pig, and the Swedish kind I grew up eating at midsommar - cold, creamy, and with raspberries on top. It's good hot or cold, with or without milk or cream or whipped cream. It's one of my favorite comfort recipes, and I hope you enjoy it, too.

The genius of this recipe comes from the substitution of arborio or risotto rice for regular white rice. The arborio rice thickens the milk as it cooks, creating a creamy, sweet deliciousness that's in the rice to the core. I can't take credit for discovering it, and the American who came up with it was probably inspired by the "pudding rice" of the U.K., but it's too easy and delicious not to share. This recipe does bear a little watching, as milk is quick to boil over, but make it while you're doing dishes, baking something, or otherwise puttering around in the kitchen. 

1 cup arborio rice
5-6 cups whole milk (or milk of your choice)
1/2 cup sugar
1 cinnamon stick
about 1 cup raisins (I used half Thompson and half golden)

Place all ingredients in a 4 or 5 quart stock pot and cook over medium to medium-high heat until the milk comes to a boil (watch it so it doesn't boil over!). Then reduce the heat to medium low and cook, stirring frequently, until most of the milk is absorbed. When it's still a bit soupy, turn the heat off and let the rice rest. It will absorb more milk as it sits. Serve hot for breakfast or warm or cold for dessert. It keeps well in the fridge, but the rice will absorb milk, so if it gets too thick, add a little milk to thin. If you don't have a cinnamon stick, a sprinkling of ground cinnamon is fine. If you'd rather leave out the raisins, feel free! Add dried cranberries, blueberries, or serve with fresh or frozen strawberries or raspberries. You could also flavor with orange or lemon zest, nutmeg, almond or vanilla extract, or any other flavorings you enjoy.

Do you have a favorite creamy dessert? A favorite way to eat rice pudding? I must admit that while this recipe is very good, it's not quite as good as the Swedish rice pudding I grew up eating, which was VERY creamy, sweet, and served cold with thawed frozen sweetened raspberries with their juice. I would stir it to turn the rice pudding purple and make sure I got raspberries in every bite. Alas, the only recipe I have for that makes gallons, so I've never tried it. 

​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!