Roly-poly Pudding Experiments in Preparation for Mad for Marmalade 2012

Do you remember the Tale of Samuel Whiskers, in which the wicked rats kidnap Tom Kitten and attempt to cook him up in a roly-poly pudding? I have provided you with Beatrix Potter's wonderful illustration to refresh your memory.* For this reason I have never been especially keen to taste a roly-poly pudding, because the name conjures up an unappetizing dough ball filled with cat hair.

However, today I did taste one in the Fort York Bunker Kitchen, and it was great (although it was a prototype in the experimental stage). It turns out to be a layer of dough rolled with a filling and boiled in a cloth, like a proper pudding. What made it great to my mind was that the filling was some of Fort York's house marmalade. However, I have to say that even the roly-poly pudding (below) paled in comparison with the marmalade cake I also sampled (which was also experimental).

Why all these marmalade-themed baking experiments, you ask? Well, Seville oranges are in the stores, and it's almost time for the fifth edition of Mad for Marmalade, Crazy for Citrus, a day to honour the classic citrus condiment, created annually by the Culinary Historians of Canada in partnership with Fort York.

Mad for Marmalade runs from 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. on Saturday, February 25 at the Blue Barracks at Fort York (pending good news from the City's labour negotiations). It includes a full citrus-themed lunch and snacks, marmalade-related book signings, a marmalade market, tours of Fort York, swag from Bernardin and Canadian Living, and prizes.

Perhaps most important, it includes a choice of fairly hands-on workshops on the making of confections like a "Florendine of Oranges" (an ornate apple-citrus cake), Mut Co Vam (Vietnamese candied sour orange peel) and – perhaps you've already guessed – Marmalade Roly-Poly Pudding. There's a presentation on "How to Eat an Orange in the Victorian Manner". Also (I blush to say) a longish talk by me on a Toronto marmalade topic. Perhaps I will blog more about this later.

As if that were not enough to whet your appetite, the marmalade competition is getting a little more serious this year. I hear there may even be ribbons for winners. There are four categories: Seville Orange Marmalade, other Citrus Marmalade, Mock Marmalade (for example: Carrot Orange Marmalade, Pear and Lemon Conserve, or Cranberry Orange Chutney), and Baking with Marmalade.

Admission is $50.85 for members of the Culinary Historians, or $56.55 for non-members. Preregistration is required. Call 416-392-6907, extension 221 for more information or to register.

And yes, I did also work on my historic baking today. I had a hand in the nutmeg-dipped Jumbles (1831), which are the yellowish rounds on the lower left, and the caraway seed-stuffed Shrewsbury Cakes (1800), which are the larger yellow rounds centre right. The remaining cookies are mackaroons, but I did not bake them.

*I believe this image to be in the public domain; if anyone has reason to believe otherwise, please notify me.

Get Ready for Souper-bowl Sunday!

There'll be plenty of onions but no tears as the Leslieville Market teams up with Le Papillon on the Park restaurant to cook up 4,000 portions of French onion soup in an enormous kettle over a roaring blaze this coming Sunday, February 5.

Highmark Farms will provide the onions, and Chef Lukas of Le Papillon will be concocting the savoury brew. (Since the soup has a meat base, he's also throwing in some delectable Pouding Chomeur for vegetarians.) I've heard unconfirmed rumours of croutons from J.P. Challet of Le Matin.

You're invited to arrive outside Le Papillon (1001 Eastern Avenue between Greenwood and Coxwell) any time from 10 a.m. to 3 p.m. with your own bowl and spoon – or a suitable container for a takeaway portion. The market will be gratefully accepting pay-what-you-can donations, and it's still not too late in the season to find out about subscribing for a weekly veggie box for $20, $30 or $40.

You can find out more as the event approaches on Facebook.

Pounding Almonds and Roasting Chicken, 1800-style

If you're curious about cooking in a kitchen designed in the 1790s, you'll like this picture. Not so much for the fact that it documents me in the process of laboriously rendering down half a pound of almonds to a flourlike consistency with a mortar and pestle (that took a while!), as because it shows several antique cooking implements in use in the background.

Behind me to the left is the open door of the wood oven, heating up. You let the logs burn for about four hours, then rake out the coals into the firebox below. When it's cool enough that you can (just) stick a bare arm in without discomfort, you can start baking. It makes a big difference how far in you slide your trays; 15 inches or so can make the difference between deliciousness and charcoal.

To the right of the image, in front of the hearth, there's a reflector oven baking a chicken and a griddle with Derby Cakes (1831) browning over the open flame.


Here's a closeup of the chicken to show you how this simple but very convenient and effective device works. The chicken gets pinned to the skewer with something like a large steel hatpin to hold it in place as you turn and lock the skewer in various positions. Dripping fat is collected on the bottom.


Here, my pal Gillian and I arrange the 1796-vintage"mackaroons" we made from the pounded almonds on a baking tray ready for the oven. The "receipt" did call for lining the tray with paper, though perhaps not parchment paper that comes in a cardboard box with a serrated metal tear strip. Also, as you see, we have not yet been issued period clothing.


Here's the exhibit of baked goods produced by the historic cooks-in-training today. In the foreground are the finished Derby Cakes. Next, in clockwise order, are hard gingerbread (1831), Rout Cakes (1806), Queen Cakes (really a type of muffin with orange flower water and rosewater) and our almond mackaroons, which are essentially little almond meringues. Not an enormous output by modern standards, but you really feel a sense of accomplishment when you manage to work with the tools and instructions of 200 years ago and the results are this good.

Many thanks for the photos by Mark D'Aguilar!

Berry Nice Fruit Baskets

Call it a case of the midwinter jickers, but I think I fell in love yesterday. In love, that is, with some of the most frivolous, generally useless and kind of splurgy knickknacks I've ever wanted to buy and take home right away.

I resisted, but when you have a look at these ceramic berry baskets (I know, I know), you may see what I mean. They're available at Anthropologie, but I'll help you avoid temptation by refraining from posting the link.

A Day of Historic Baking

Honestly, have you ever seen a simpler, lovelier baked good than this lemon cake? The recipe was adapted at Fort York from John Farley's 1800 The London Art of Cookery. It's flavoured with rosewater and lemon, made to rise solely with egg whites, and baked in a great kettle in the coals of the open hearth. I must say, it was every bit as delicious as it looked, and was only one of a great number of baked goods that emerged today from the historic kitchen that was once used to prepare dinner for the officers' mess at the fort

The fire was lit in the wood-fired brick oven at 9:05 this morning, and burned (if I understand correctly) about 15 small logs to embers before it was ready, somewhere around 1 p.m., for us to start loading it with baking. I had the fun of helping to shovel the embers out into a bucket before the ashes were swept out with a wet broom.

While the oven was hot enough for baking, it cooked a couple of dishes of apples, a quince tart and a great many gingerbread cookies. Half a dozen "York cakes" (smallish currant loaves) had to be evacuated to a modern oven at the end of the day, as there was not enough heat left to finish them properly. One has to think twice before opening the oven when you've already burnt up a small tree to heat it, and every opening of the door diminishes the temperature within.

Here, one of the experienced cooks puts the lid on a quince tart made with apples, lemon and cinnamon in a crust that contained four egg yolks and more rosewater.

Isn't it lovely?

Here's my squadron of gingerbread soldiers. I went with the old-school approach and grated the nutmeg and ginger by hand (much as one might do today in any case). Apparently some of these pieces of functional kitchen equipment are more than 100 years old.

While we were cooking, a sleepy wasp appeared. Likely he had been hibernating somewhere in the walls, but was awakened by the heat of the oven and the open hearth.

While all the baking was underway, the experienced cooks baked a chicken in a reflecting pan on the open hearth and arranged a couple of salads artfully with a garnish of boiled eggs. They went down a treat with the baked apples, prepared with apricot jam and wine, along with some of the baked treats. And no, that couldn't possibly be a wristwatch.

Happy New Year!

My wish for all the food gardeners and farmers out there, as well as for anybody who eats their produce: a happy, healthy and prosperous new year to all!

I included most of my favourite plants from the community garden. Can you spot anise hyssop, basil, beans, beets, carrots, chives, echinacea, eggplants, grapes, peas, peppers, radishes, raspberries, sage, strawberries, sunflowers, Swiss chard, three types of tomatoes, radishes and zucchini?

Merry Christmas 2011!

Best wishes for peace, joy, health and prosperity to all!