save the seasons

Against melancholy for Winter – apples, butter, and saffron

/ Marissa Nicosia / Leave a comment

baked apple on plate on counter

Seasonal changes call for seasonal dishes.  A few years ago on a surprisingly hot April day I was sitting in the reading room at the New York Public Library with Whitney Cookery Collection V. 5 and first encountered a pair of seventeenth-century recipes to prevent seasonally specific melancholy.

One recipe, “Against mellancholly for the sumer” (134-135), instructs a reader to chop up various herbs (borage, balm, rosemary),  mix them with a little bit of sugar, add them to “ordinary beer,” strain them out after infusing, and drink from this mixture all summer long. By sipping this beverage, a person might ward off (or prevent against) an excess of black bile building up in their body over the summer and leaving them in a melancholy state. I don’t tend to feel melancholy in the summer so I have not yet attempted to prepare this recipe, but a few days ago I tried my hand at the second recipe in the sequence: “Against melancholy for Winter” (135)

Original Recipe

original recipe handwritten

Against melancholy for Winter
Take a faire apple which is ripe, take out the core, & in
the place of it, put in the powder of saforn, so much as
will & lye vpon a 2 pence, & so much sweet butter, as will
fill vp the place of the core

While true winter is still a long way off, this recipe appealed to me on a chilly autumn morning when I was reviewing my manuscript notes. I had an abundant supply of ripe apples to hand and, as this recipe did not include any sugar, I opted to use a Macintosh instead of a tart American baking apple like a Granny Smith.

I was not surprised to see saffron in this recipe because it was thought to be distinctly humorally warming and to inspire happiness in Renaissance medical and culinary theory. In his Herbal, John Gerard writes that saffron “maketh the senses more quick and lively, shaketh off heavy and drowsy sleep, and maketh a man merry.” Figuring out how much “merry” saffron would fit on a seventeenth-century “2 pence” coin took a bit of calculation, but again, I was not surprised to see a coin mentioned because this is not an uncommon way to measure spices in the period. When I shared this measurement with my spouse Joseph, he quickly wrote back informing me that the diameter of a silver, Charles II two pence coin was about 15 millimeters (a smidge smaller than a US dime). I drew a 15mm circle on a piece of baking parchment and used that to measure my saffron.

Even though it appears to be a simple preparation, this recipe leaves quite a lot up to the imagination and the cook. To prevent winter melancholy, am I supposed to just eat a fresh ripe apple stuffed full of butter and saffron? Or am I supposed to cook or bake this apple? Or am I supposed to carry it around, smell it, gaze upon it, and contemplate its beauty? If I’m supposed to eat it, how often, and how much, and when in the day should I consume saffron butter apple to ward off winter melancholy? The previous recipe for summer melancholy is much more specific about preparation and use. A daily sip of herb-infused beer is necessary to prevent summer melancholy. I baked my apple before eating it, but if you decide to eat a crisp apple with butter and saffron, please do write to me and let me know if it improves your mood.

Updated Recipe

1 apple
3 Tablespoons of butter at room temperature (a little more or less depending on the size of your apple)
10 strands / 1 generous pinch of saffron

Preheat your oven to 350F.

Wash your apple well and remove the core.

Measure out the saffron. Crush it in a mortar and pestle. Sprinkle it onto your butter.

Fill the apple with the butter and saffron. Adjust amount of butter as necessary.

Place the apple in a ceramic, glass, or metal baking dish with high sides. Pour in enough water so that the bottom half of the apple is submerged. (I used two cups of water.) For extra safety and ease navigating the oven, I put my baking dish on a baking sheet.

Bake for about an hour until the apple is tender.

Serve immediately.

The Results

Apple, butter, and saffron are a beautiful combination. The juicy baked apple turned golden from the saffron. Luscious with butter and tangy with spice, the apple was delicious hot from the oven. It was tasty at room temperature with yogurt. Pairing this baked apple with a dollop of rich whipped cream, or a pour of smooth custard, or a scoop of vanilla ice cream would make a delectable, seasonal dessert.

I did find that some of the saffron butter flooded into the baking liquid during cooking and it felt like a waste to simply discard it. When the baking liquid had cooled down a little bit, I poured this “saffron butter water” into a container, put it in the refrigerator, and let the flavored butter solidify. This reconstituted “saffron butter” was a delicious addition to a crumble topping  for a plum fruit crisp that I baked the next day.

Bolstered by saffron, apples, and butter, I’m now prepared to make merry during the cooler seasons ahead.

baked apple on plate on counter with spoon

To preserve peaches

/ Marissa Nicosia / 3 Comments

I’ve been working on a salad* recipe to share here, but this summer has not felt like a good time to test salads. On this rainy August morning, I realized I had some very very ripe peaches and decided to make something with them instead. (*Gervase Markham’s “Compound Sallet” to be precise. Learn more about it here.)

two peaches in a white bowl on a kitchen counter

As I searched my recipe notes, I came across a recipe “To preserve peaches” in Bodleian Libraries, MS Rawl. C.81. I transcribed it during a research appointment back in July 2022 because it sounded delicious and it still sounded excellent this morning. MS Rawl. C.81 has a few sections including a “Recipe collection bearing the ownership note of Dorothy Hudson (1629)”

Doritie hudson hir Booke
of resartte ffor salfes
and medessenes September
the 23: 1629 (62r)

Even though Dorothy Hudson calls her recipe book medicinal in this initial inscription (medessenes), receipts for preserved peaches, pomegranates, and rose petals fill the opening pages. Preserved fruits and flowers can preserve health as well as delight the palate with the flavors of spring and summer all year long.

Original Recipe

handwritten recipe for peach preserves

To preserve peaches
Take the peaches & pare them & then wa[y]
the peaches and put to every pound of peache[s]
a pound of sugar and sett yt on the ffyer &
lett yt boyle and skume yt and when yt is a
little boylled put in the peaches and lett yt boyle
till yt be as a sirrope and then take yt of th[e]
ffyer and put in a ffewe cloues and soe le[t]
yt stand till yt be could and then put yt
in a glase or potte. (64v)

This is a classic fruit preserve recipe that uses equal parts fruit and sugar (as well as water). First you prepare a sugar syrup and then you add your peeled and cut fruit to cook. The addition of cloves at the very end is especially curious as whole spices are often added earlier in the cooking process.

Updated Recipe

This recipe makes about a cup of jam. It should be easy to make a larger batch as long as you adjust the amount of sugar and water depending on the weight of your peaches and increase the number of cloves.

1 cup (175 grams) peaches
3/4 cup + 2 Tablespoons (scant 1 cup, 175 grams) sugar
1 cup water
3 cloves

Put a small plate in your freezer. Prepare a storage jar. If it is not fresh from the dishwasher, rinse it with boiling water.

Peel your peaches, remove their pits, and cut them into slices or chunks. (You can weigh your peaches and adjust the proportions of peaches, sugar, and water at this stage.)

Put the sugar and water in a heavy-bottomed sauce pan. If you’re using a candy thermometer, affix it to the side of the pot. Cook this simple syrup until the mixture is bubbling and the temperature reaches 210°F/100°C.

Add the peaches and stir intermittently so that they cook and break down, but do not burn. Cook the peaches until the preserve reaches 240°F/115°C and/or when you run a spoon along the bottom of the pan the fruit does not immediately flood the space again. (My total cooking time was 10 minutes, but this will vary.) As your preserve nears temperature or the spoon parts it more effectively, put 1 teaspoon on the freezer plate and let sit for 30 seconds. If the preserve holds its shape when you tilt the plate, it has set. If the preserve is browning quickly or looks set before the temperature reaches 240°F/115°C, try the plate test earlier.

Remove the preserve from the stovetop. Add the cloves to the pot and stir well. Let the jam sit and cool. Stir it occasionally so that the cloves circulate through the sugary fruit. (My preserves cooled in 25 minutes.)

Transfer the jam in to your prepared jar. Store this small-batch preserve in the refrigerator and consume within two weeks. You can extend the life of your jam by properly canning it or by freezing it

The Results

Cloves and peaches are a brilliant combination. The warming spice holds up against the sharp sweetness of the stone fruit and sugar. The preserve is delicious right off the spoon and even better paired with a slice of toast. I enjoyed it on a hearty, dense rye bread.

Next time I make this, I might cut the peaches into smaller chunks before cooking them and I might also cook them for 8 minutes instead of 10. I think this batch went a bit to amber while I was doing the plate test. All of that said, I’m glad I’ve captured this tiny bit of August sunshine in a jar.

 

Codling Preserves (To preserve green fruit another way)

/ Marissa Nicosia / 6 Comments

 

small green apples on white and blue cloth on yellow table

It became abundantly clear that it was time to thin the clusters on the apple trees in the back garden when the branches began to bend in unusual ways. Codlings, unripe young apples, were weighing down the long thin branches. I needed to pick quite a few.

I cooked with codlings for the first time in 2023 when I prepared a recipe for a “codling tart.” I was in the middle of writing my new book Shakespeare in the Kitchen and I was inspired to write a little about Shakespeare’s play Twelfth Night in the opening of the post:

I first learned that a “codling” was an unripe apple from the footnotes in a copy of William Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night. When Cesario arrives at Olivia’s gate and refuses to leave, Malvolio turns to ambiguous metaphors to describe the persistent youth to his mistress:

Not yet old enough for a man, nor young
enough for a boy—as a squash is before ’tis a
peascod, or a codling when ’tis almost an apple. (1.5.155-157)

A codling is almost an apple, like a boy is almost a man. The Oxford English Dictionary records both the literal and metaphorical definitions of “codling” — “Originally: an immature or unripe apple; a type of hard apple suitable only for cooking” in medieval and Renaissance usage, and, later,  in Shakespeare’s lifetime, “figurative. With implication of immaturity or inexperience: a young man, a youth. Obsolete.”

As I sat down today to write about the codling preserve that I tested last week, I almost began my post the same way! Reading Shakespeare got me excited to learn about codlings through research and recipe testing: Cooking with codlings these past years has deepened my understanding of Shakespeare’s culinary metaphor — Shipwrecked Cesario is new to serving Orsino as an eunuch and unripe in wooing a lady like Olivia. Whenever it makes sense in the coming months, I’ll continue to connect my recipe recreations with my research on Shakespeare’s culinary metaphors (a sort of complete works of Shakespeare, in the kitchen).

 

Original Recipe

text of recipe

Elinor Fettiplace, edited by Hilary Spurling (p. 167)

I’ve recently been enjoying reading Hilary Spurling’s edition of Elinor Fettiplace’s 1604 manuscript recipe book which organizes the Elizabethan recipes into a calendar. In the summer months, there are many recipes to preserve fruit: unripe fruit that must be picked for other fruit to thrive (such as codlings) and perfectly ripe fruit that must be quickly dealt with before it rots. Fettiplace’s recipe (and Spurling’s extensive notes) provide a detailed method of scalding the codlings, peeling them, cooking down the pulp, and adding sugar to make a delicious preserve.

wet small unripe green apples

The sharp, green preserve is delicious, but my own experience making this recipe was a bit messy. The skin should come off the scalded fruit, but it did not in my case despite using four waters. I tried to take Spurling’s guidance and strain out the apple pits instead of cutting up the apples, but I only managed to strain about a third of my preserves before the pectin set everything too much for my strainer to handle.

Updated Recipe

Ingredients: codlings, sugar, water (to be measured in proportion)
Equipment: candy thermometer, multiple pots and pans, preserve storage jar(s), a scale

Prepare for making preserves: Put a small plate in your freezer. Prepare your storage jar(s). If they’re not fresh from the dishwasher, rinse them with boiling water.

Scald the codlings in near-boiling water four times: Set two large pots full of water on the stove and bring to a boil.  When they reach the boiling point, turn them off. Add the washed codlings to the first pot and let scald for 15 minutes. Use a colander to  keep the floating codlings below the water. As the timer runs down, bring the second pot of water to a boil again. Transfer the codlings to the second pot of water and let scald for 15 minutes. Repeat this process twice by reheating the first pot of water and using it for the third scald and then reheating the second pot of water and using it for the fourth scald. Reserve all the water.

Peel the codlings as best you can. Use a small sharp knife and your fingernails. Peel them under water that is as warm as your hands can stand.

[In my recipe attempt I went straight from peeling to cooking the codlings and making the preserve. I would suggest removing the cores and cutting the codlings into quarters or eights at this stage.]

Cook the codlings more by simmering them in the reserved water in a large pot for 15 minutes. Reserve the cooking water.

Figure out proportions for making the preserve. Fettiplace suggests equal weights of cooked codlings and sugar. Spurling suggests to each pound of codlings and sugar, using 1 cup of the reserved cooking water.  I had 790g of cooked apple and I cooked it with 790g sugar (4 cups) and 1 3/4 cups of the reserved cooking water. [I followed Spurling’s proportions, but if I make this again I will reduce the sugar to 3/4 cup to each pound of cooked fruit. I’d like to taste a little more of the sharp apple flavor.]

Make codling preserves. Put the cooked codlings, sugar, and reserved cooking water in a heavy saucepan with ample extra room. [I actually switched to a larger pot after I took the photograph above!] If you’re using a candy thermometer, affix it to the side of the pot. Cook at a high heat and bring the mixture to the boil. Continue to cook and stir and mash the apples chunks into a thick pulp.  Cook until the preserve reaches 220°F and/or when you run a spoon along the bottom of the pan the fruit does not immediately flood the space again. (My total cooking time was 25 minutes, but this will vary.) As your preserve nears temperature or the spoon parts it more effectively, put 1 teaspoon on the freezer plate and let sit for 30 seconds. If the preserve holds its shape when you tilt the plate, it has set. If the preserve is browning quickly or looks set before the temperature reaches 220°F, try the plate test earlier.

[Option to strain your preserves before storing in jars! I did this, but if you remove the skins and seeds pretty well beforehand this might be unnecessary.]

Put in your prepared jars. Store this small-batch preserve in the refrigerator and consume within two weeks. You can extend the life of your jam by properly canning it or by freezing it.

The Results

Tangy and sweet, the preserve is delicious. I’m excited to slather it on toast and eat it with cheeses. As I wrote above, I might make it a little less sweet if I make it again next year. That being said, it still carries a delightful unripe sharpness — the true essence of codlings.