ORANGES IN 18TH CENTURY COOKING©

Part II.  Part I of this post documented the availability of oranges in Colonial Louisiana. 

Hannah Glasse’s The Art of Cookery Made Plain and Easy contains a receipt on how to preserve oranges whole which will not be given here because it is rather lengthy.  The oranges were put into glasses, covered with brandied paper and tied over with a bladder.  There were two additional receipts which essentially produce the same preserved oranges.

The receipts Glasse’s book contains are duplicated in a dozen or so books from the same time period.

RECEIPTS: 

TO MAKE AN ORANGE FOOL.  Take the juice of six oranges, and six eggs well beaten, a pint of cream, a quarter of a pound of sugar, a little cinnamon and nutmeg.  Mix all together, and keep stirring over a slow fire till it is thick; then put in a little piece of butter and keep stirring till cold, and dish it up.  – Glasse, Hannah.  The Art of Cooking Made Plain and Easy.  1788.  London.  

TO MAKE ORANGE-CREAM.Take and pare the rind of a Seville orange very fine, and squeeze the juice of four oranges; put them into a stew-pan, with half a pint of water, and half a pound of fine sugar, beat the whites of five eggs, and mix into it, and set them on a slow fire; stir it one way till it grows thick and white, strain it through a gauze, and stir it till cold; then beat the yolks of five eggs very fine, and put into your pan with the cream; stir it over a gentle fire till it is ready to boil; then put it in a bason, and stir it till it is cold, and then put it in your glasses.  –Glasse.  The Art of Cooking Made Plain and Easy.  1788.  London.

ZEST OF CHINA ORANGES.  Pare off the outside rind of the oranges very thin, and only strew it with fine powder-sugar as much as their own moisture will take, and dry them in a hot stove.  – Charlotte Mason.  The Lady’s Assistant.  1787.

TO MAKE ORANGE-POSSET.  Squeeze the Juice of two Sevil-oranges, and one Lemon, into a China-Bason that holds about a quart; sweeten this juice like a Syrop with Double-refin’d Sugar, put to it two spoonfuls of Orange-flower-water, and strain it through a fine Sieve; boil a large pint of thick Cream, with some of the Orange-peel in it cut thin:  When ‘tis pretty cool, pour it into the Bason of Juice through a Funnel, which must be held as high as you can from the Bason:  It must stand a Day before you use it.  When it goes to Table, stick Slips of Candy’d Orange, Lemon, and Citron-peel on the top.  – A Collection of Above Three Hundred Receipts in Cookery, Physick, and Surgery; for the Use of all Good Wives, Tender Mothers, and Careful Nurses.  1714.  London.

TURKEYS WITH OYSTERS.  Truss them to boil, lard one, the other plain; half roast them, then stove them in good Gravy and Broth; season with Salt, Nutmeg and Pepper and when tender, make a Ragoo with Sweetbreads, Mushrooms, thick Butter and Gravy with the Juice of Oranges, and lay over.  – Carter, Charles.  The Complete City and Country Cook.  1732.  London.

TO FRY LOBSTERS.  Take a boil’d Lobster, take out the Meat, slice it long ways, flour it and fry it in Sweet Butter, white and crisp; or roll it in a batter made of Cream, Eggs, Flour, and Salt, and fry it.  Beat some Butter up thick, with grated Nutmeg, Claret, and the Juice of Oranges.  For the Sauce, rub the Dish with an onion, or shallot, lay in the lobster, pour on the sauce; garnish the dish with slices of lemon and orange and serve it up.  – Nott, John.  The Cook and Confectioner’s Dictionary. 

TO FRICASSY MUSHROOMS.  First stew them then pour away their Liquor, then fry them with Butter, an Onion shred small, some sweet Marjoram and Thyme stript; season with Salt and Pepper; make a Sauce for them with Eggs beaten with the Juice of Oranges and some Claret, the Gravy of a Leg of Mutton and Nutmeg; shake them well, and give them a few Tosses in the Pan, then put them in a Dish, rubb’d with a Shalot, and garnish it with Lemon and Orange.  – Nott, John.  The Cooks and Confectioners Dictionary. 

TO BROIL MULLETS.  Scale and gut them, and cut gashes in their sides, dip them in melted butter, and broil them at a great distance from the fire.  Sauce—anchovy, with capers, and a little Seville-orange or lemon squeezed into it.  – Mason, Charlotte.  The Lady’s Assistant for Regulating and Supplying the Table. 

TO BROIL EGGS.  Cut a toast round a quarter loaf, brown it, lay it on your dish, butter it, and very carefully break six or eight eggs on the toast.  Hold a red-hot shovel over them, and when they be done, squeeze a Seville orange over them; grate a little nutmeg over them, and serve it up for a side plate.  – Mason.

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ORANGES: Flavoring Agent & Sweetmeat©

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oranges

Orange juice, peel, or zest, was used in a variety of foods through the 18^th century and into the 19^th, and because I like to use ingredients that were available for the time and place of my demonstrations, I took a look to see if using them would have been within my means in the mid-18^th century at Ft. Toulouse in Lower Louisiana.   [Today Alabama]

I found several tidbits regarding oranges being grown around Mobile and New Orleans at that time and since I’ve documented several traders coming into this area, I feel quite comfortable with having them in a quantity enough to use in recreating some of the receipts from that era. 

Sister Marie-Madeliene Hachard was a nun in a convent in New Orleans and her letters to her family back in France speak of several foods available to her, including oranges.

Reverend Father de Beaubois has the most beautiful garden in the city.  It is full of orange trees, which bear oranges as beautiful and sweet as the ones in Cape Francais.  He gave us three hundred sour ones that we preserved.

That passage tells me that oranges were plentiful in that area, plentiful enough that baskets of them could easily have found their way up river to Ft. Toulouse for trading with the French and maybe the natives. 

Peter Joseph Hamilton wrote that Bienville grew oranges in his orchard in 1719, and that Haldimand thanked Rochon for trees and oranges in Mobile in 1768.  Oranges were included in the list of items he documented as being exported from Mobile. 

Le Page du Pratz, an early 18^th century trader in the area, also commented on the availability of fresh oranges. 

The orange-trees and citron-trees that were brought from Cape Francois have succeeded extremely well…The oranges and citrons are as good as those of other countries; but the rind of the orange in particular is very thick, which makes it the better for a sweet-meat. [candied orange peel]

Hamilton wrote that, “by the [17] twenties, the culture of indigo had been added to that of rice and tobacco, while the fig-tree had been introduced from Provence, and the orange from Hispaniola”.  With that passage we see that the orange trees in Lower Louisiana came from more than one area, therefore, were most likely somewhat different in characteristics.   

Nichols elaborated further saying, “In America there grow oranges of all sorts in great plenty, and as good as in any part of the world, and some as bad, for there are both sweet and sour, bitter and insipid.”

In addition to Cape Francois and Hispaniola, Herbermann left records of oranges having also been brought from San Domingo.  Since Father Boudoin died in 1766, he also confirms that oranges were growing in the area during the occupation of Ft. Toulouse. 

Father Boudoin, S.J., the benefactor of the colony, who had introduced the culture of sugar-cane and oranges from San Domingo, and figs from Provence, a man to whom the people owed much and to whom Louisiana to-day owes so much of its prosperity, alone remained.

A passage from the Louisiana Historical Society penned in 1917 echoed Herbermann’s opinion.

They were aware that to the Jesuits Louisiana owed its sugar cane, its orange and fig trees…

In 1854, the following passage was written regarding the citrus of the New Orleans and Mobile area which gives us a hint as to the flavor of some of the early fruits. 

The sweet Seville orange-tree is indeed cultivated in the neighbourhood of New-Orleans, but liable also at that place to be destroyed by frost.  [1819] 

Du Pratz agreed that cold killed the trees but that they came back from the roots the next season.   

The orange-trees and citron-trees that were brought from Cape Francois have succeeded extremely well; however I have seen so severe a winter that those kinds of trees were entirely frozen to the very trunk.  In that case they cut the trees down to the ground, and the following summer they produced shoots that were better than the former.  If these trees have succeeded in the flat and moist soil of New Orleans, what may we not expect when they are planted in better soil, and upon declivities of a good exposure?

Even though the trees grew back from the roots and produced a good quality orange, doing so would have slowed down the production until the trees were of sufficient size to produce again.  Perhaps we should ask how often such a set-back occurred and for that answer we look to The Christian Advocate, 1899.

Low Temperature in Louisiana—The orange trees of Louisiana for one hundred years stood the winter, but within twelve years they have met with three severe shocks.  Oranges suffer in any temperature under fifteen degrees above zero.  Old trees can stand colder weather than younger.  Until within twelve years the temperature in Louisiana never got below fifteen degrees.  The last shock, a short time ago, went to five or eight degrees below, in the orange belt, and an examination leaves no doubt that the orange groves are destroyed…

The California Illustrated Magazine agreed that the Louisiana oranges had done well until roughly 1880.

Formerly oranges were grown quite extensively in Louisiana, but during the last decade the trees have been repeatedly frozen down and the industry is now practically destroyed. 

I found it harder to document the growth of lemons than oranges in Louisiana, but the following newspaper clipping seems to indicate lemons may have been grown there as well.  “The climate of the north is temperate, and the soil yields apples, pears, peaches and other fruit.  In the south it is warm, and oranges, figs, and lemons flourish.”  [1841]

How did the quality of the oranges compare to those in other lands?  The Mobile Herald said Louisiana oranges from New Orleans and Pascagoula were, “generally larger than the ones raised in the neighborhood of Havana and much superior in flavor.” 

The Shaddock:  …the pulp is juicy and sweetish.  The plant forms an excellent stock for grafting other kinds upon; the fruit makes a splendid show at table, and is found cooling and refreshing.  It has been grown successfully in the open air in the city and vicinity of Mobile.  M. Boiteau considers the “forbidden fruit” of the shops to be a variety of this species, but others make it a variety of the lemon.  [1854]

We’ve  documented that citrus was grown and relatively plentiful in and around New Orleans and Mobile.  We’ve documented that the seeds and trees came from various locations and that there were probably several types of oranges grown in the area.  Next, we must ask ourselves how would traders have gotten baskets of oranges to the French and Creeks at Ft. Toulouse.  Hamilton again provides the answer.

The French usually carried on their trade from Mobile by river; there was, however, a land route to Fort Toulouse.  There was also a good road running through the Choctaw Country west of, and not far from the Tombigbee and Mobile rivers by which the Choctaws traded with the French.  Another road ran from Mobile to the Chicasa towns.  There were likewise routes by which the traders from Pensacola reached the Choctaws and Creeks. 

In Part II of this article we’ll look at some ways oranges were used in 18^th century receipts.

SOURCES:

From The American Farmer’s Magazine.  Vol. 6, I. 1.  May 1854.

Hamilton, Peter Joseph.  Colonial Mobile.  1897.  Boston.

Hamilton, Peter Joseph.  Colonial Mobile:  An Historical Study, Largely from Original Sources. 

Du Pratz, Le Page.  The History of Louisiana:  Or the Western Parts of Virginia and Carolina.  1775.  London.

– The American Monthly Magazine and Critical Review.  Vol. 4.  H. Biglow, Orville Luther Holley.  Jan. 1819.

Herbermann, Charles George.  The Catholic Encyclopedia.  1911.  NY.

Louisiana Historical Soc.  Publications.  1917.  New Orleans.

Hamilton, Peter Joseph.  The Colonization of the South.  1904.  London.

The Christian Advocate.  March 2, 1899.

Peter Parley’s Common School History.  Goodrich, Samuel Griswold.  1841.  Philadelphia.

June 6, 1849.  Reported in the Niles National Register. 

The Letters of Marie Madeleine Hachard 1727-8.  New Orleans. 

Hachard, Voices From an Early American Convent 1727-60.  Edited by Clark, Emily.  Boise State Univ.

The Californian Magazine.  Oct. 1891. 

Nichols, John.  The Gentleman’s Magazine.  Oct. 1795. London.

Groundhog: It’s What’s for Dinner©

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groundhog, woodchuck

A groundhog was a Southern critter and a woodchuck or whistle pig was the same critter known to Northerners by another name.  The garden at the fort has become home to a groundhog that grows fatter by the day through feasting on the various vegetables growing there, and by the fall garrisons should be just about ready for roasting, providing the French marines can bring about his demise.

Groundhog has fed man since he learned rudimentary cooking skills, therefore, a demonstration of cooking one should be found proper for just about any time period.   

The refuse pits of the Baum Prehistoric Village in Ross County, Ohio (AD 1000-1650) contained the broken bones of several animals archaeologists determined had been a source of food, among them the groundhog. 

Groundhogs slumber through the winter sustained on the fat they packed on during the summer and fall.

The negroes of the South are keen hunters of the poor creature, who, in winter, a mere ball of fur, during the summer grows into a perfect ball of fat, and is considered a great luxury at the ‘quarters’. 

Actually, groundhogs were eaten by pretty much everyone at one point or another—Indians, slaves, campers, pioneers, and homesteaders.  The groundhog was said to be relatively scarce during the Colonial era, but as farm land replaced woods the groundhogs multiplied and by the 1870’s they were, “among the most common mammals in eastern North America”. 

From the time those first crops were planted the groundhog has been referred to as the scourge of the farmer because of his destructive burrowing and eating up valuable crops and garden produce. 

Audubon wrote in the 1840’s that woodchuck flesh was tolerably good and, “is frequently purchased by the humbler classes of people, who cook it like a roasting pig”. 

The following receipt, short and sweet, was obtained from an Oneida woman after the turn of the century.

Stuff the chuck with bread, butter, pepper, salt, onions, and dried herbs.  Roast it for about two hours, basting it well.  Make a nice gravy, as you would for roast pig. 

Arthur Hankins wrote an interesting account of how a groundhog was cooked.

You get your groundhog and skin ‘im and clean ‘im all nice and everythin’, and hang ‘im up to freeze—see? Then that night you ketch one o’ your big yellow-legged chickens about five months old—see?  And you pick ‘im and clean ‘im all nice and everythin’.  Then you go make sure that your groundhog has froze, because freezin’ takes the rank taste out of ‘em and makes ‘em fit to eat—see?  Well, then you get you some butter an’ pepper an’ salt an’ sage an’ breadcrumbs, and you make a fine dressin’.  And then you get your groundhog and cut ‘im up into little pieces, an’ scrape all the meat off the bones.  And then you take your stuffin’ and pack it inside the yellow-legged chicken, and’ put your chicken in the roastin’ pan, and cover it and put it in the oven.  And then you take your groundhog that you’ve cut up and chop it until it’s all fine and nice—see?  Then you open the oven and take off the lid o’ the roastin’ pan and baste the yellow-legged chicken with a big spoon.  And you keep on doin’ this every now and then, and while you’re restin’ you keep choppin’ the groundhog meat finer and finer, to have it all ready.  Then when the chicken is roasted nice an’ brown, you make gravy and pour it in a bowl; and then you set the gravy and the chicken on the table and call the folks.  And if you ever ate anything better in your life I don’t know what it was!  There’s nothing better than a groundhog—it’s all in knowin’ how to handle ‘im’. 

Gentle reader, I’m fairly certain you caught the fact that the author never actually cooked that groundhog, the chicken being the supper in question, but never fear, we’ll have a look at how they were really cooked.

Next we go to the Ohio slave narratives, stories of the lives of freedmen written down by agents for the Federal Writer’s Project during the Depression years.  Celia Henderson told an interviewer that groundhog was as good as fried chicken.  Her cooking instructions were to clean it, boil it in salt water until tender, make a flour gravy and put the groundhog in it in the oven, with a lid on, and bake it till it was a nice brown. 

Appalachian cooks are known for cranking out simple country vittles that were biscuit soppin’ good, and you can bet they knew how to cook woodchuck. 

Cut the leetle red kernels out from under their forelegs; then bile ‘em, fust—all the strong is left in the water—then pepper ‘em and sage ‘em, and put ‘em in a pan, and bake ‘em to a nice rich brown…

Before I determine how I want to cook our vegetable-stealin’ critter, I’d like to see what other ways of fixin’ him up might suit my fancy.  Advice from a reader in The Century will determine how tough his flesh may be and help me decide on a recipe.  “The woodchuck must be young:  you tell that by the teeth, which should be white and not yellow”.  One might be obliged to check out his molars after he’s been rendered docile by some means since, “these animals bite severely and defend themselves fiercely…” 

Remove the axillary glands…This is an absolute necessity in order to do away with the too-strong flavor.  Soak in salt water for twenty-four hours, boil in a pot with not too much water until tender, put in a pan and lard it with bacon well placed into the flesh.  Cut up one onion and lay the pieces over it, with a bayleaf and with two or three cloves stuck in.  Bake till slightly brown and then lay another pan over the top until the woodchuck is thoroughly steamed in its own vapor.  Season with salt and pepper—no butter. 

Mrs. Owens called ground-hogs an esteemed delicacy in Pennsylvania, and said, “Where fire-places are used, people cook them on a spit over a dripping-pan”.  Roasting over hot coals would turn a fat groundhog into a savory golden brown morsel. 

Juliet Corson advised baking sweet potatoes in the pan with the woodchuck or making it, “into a savory stew with sweet herbs and spices”. 

In 1942, WWII was in full swing with its Victory Gardens and food rationing the order of the day.  Gourmet contained a recipe for Creamed Woodchuck.  The meat was soaked in salted water after which it was well drained.  It was boiled until tender and then a cup of heavy cream, 2 tablespoons of butter and salt and pepper were added.  This mixture was simmered for 5 minutes and then thickened with a flour and water slurry.  The recipe suggested serving it with boiled yams and baking powder biscuits. 

Groundhog can also be fried or fricasseed, made into a pie, in short, cooked just about any way other game is cooked.  Decisions, decisions…

BIBLIOGRAPHY:

Ohio Archaeological and Historical Quarterly.  1906.

Hankins, Arthur Preston.  The Jubilee Girl.  1921.  NY.

Farmer, John Stephen.  Americanisms—Old and New.  1889.  London.

Federal Writers’ Project.  Ohio Slave Narratives.  1936-38.

National Cookery Book.  1876.  Philadelphia.

Kephart, Horace.  Camp Cookery.  1910.  NY.

Audubon, John James.  The Viviparous Quadrupeds of North America.  Vol. I.  1847.  London.

The Century.  Oct. 1913.

Owens, Frances Emugene.  Mrs. Owens’ New Cook Book and Complete Household Manual.  1899.  Chicago.

Corson, Juliet.  Family Living on $500 a Year:  A Daily Reference Book.  1888.  NY.

Gourmet.  Nov. 1942.

Figs in Many Ways

I like the flavor of figs which is a good thing, because when one possesses an established fig tree it will produce a large quantity of fruit.  After two or three years you’ll be offering figs to friends and neighbors and preserving them for winter use.  I was surprised the first year my tree produced figs that fruit appeared without the tree having bloomed first, but nature has a strange way with figs as I found out later.  The blooms are inside the figs. 

 

We aren’t going to look for the origins of figs because they’ve been eaten and admired since antiquity.  Instead, let’s take a quick look at how thrifty housewives used their bounteous harvest in times past.

Fig puddings date to the medieval era and remained popular through the 19^th century.  Today’s palate might think one a dense cake rather than a pudding.  They are perhaps best known from the Christmas carol, “Oh, bring us some figgy pudding”.  Early recipes may use either fresh figs or dried, drying being the most widely used method of preservation.  They freeze quite well.  Cooking methods for the puddings included boiling in a pudding cloth, baking, or steaming in a pudding mold. 

CHOICE FIG CAKE.  A large cup butter, two and a half of sugar, one of sweet milk, three pints of flour with three teaspoons baking powder, whites of sixteen eggs, a pound and a quarter of figs well floured and cut in strips like citron; no flavoring.  – Wilcox, Estelle.  Practical Housekeeping.  1883.  Minneapolis.

FIG PUDDING.  Mince five ounces of beef suet fine.  Add four ounces of sifted bread crumbs, four ounces of orange peel cut small, mix all together.  Take eighteen figs and cut them in slices.  Butter a pudding mould and ornament with figs as with raisins.  The remainder of the figs are to be mixed in with the other ingredients.  Boil an English pint of sweet milk and pour it over them.  Beat up a table-spoonful of sugar with four eggs, adding one at a time.  Mix all together, adding a few drops of the essence of cinnamon, pour all into the mould, and boil for three hours.  – Williamson, Mrs.  Practice of Cookery and Pastry.  1854.  Edinburgh.

FIG PUDDING.  Half pound of figs, quarter pound grated bread, two and a half ounces of powdered sugar, three ounces butter, two eggs, one tea-cup milk; chop figs fine and mix with butter, and by degrees add the other ingredients; butter and sprinkle a mold with bread crumbs, pour in pudding, cover closely, and boil for three hours; serve with lemon sauce.  – Wilcox, Estelle.  Practical Housekeeping.  1883.  Minneapolis.

STEWED FIGS (A very nice compote).  Put into an enameled or a copper stewpan, four ounces of refined sugar, the very thin rind of a large and fresh lemon, and a pint of cold water.  When the sugar is dissolved, add a pound of fine Turkey figs, and place the stewpan on a trivet above a moderate fire, or upon a stove, where they can heat and swell slowly, and be very gently stewed.  When they are quite tender, add to them two glassfuls of port wine and the strained juice of a lemon; arrange them in a glass dish and serve them cold.  From two hours to two and a half of the gentlest stewing will generally be sufficient to render the figs fit for table.  Orange-juice and rind can be used for them at pleasure, instead of the lemon; two or three bitter almonds may be boiled in the syrup to give it flavor, and any wine can be used for it, but port is best.  This compote may be served in the second course hot, in a ride-border, or cold for dessert.  – Acton, Eliza.  Modern Cookery for Private Families.  1845.

Fruit jam has been a welcome sweet accompaniment since antiquity, and fig jam never fails to please.  There were no instructions with the recipe given here, but it’s pretty basic.  Put everything on and let it simmer then remove and discard the lemon slices before putting the jam into the jars.

FIG JAM.  Six pounds figs, three pounds of sugar, two lemons sliced, one half cup of sliced green ginger root.  Boil three hours.  – Lummis, Charles Fletcher.  Out West.  June 1911.

FIG LOAF CAKE.  1 c. butter, 2 c. sugar, 5 whites of eggs, 2 teaspoons baking powder, 1 c. sweet milk, 4 c. flour, 1 lb. figs, cut up.  Put dough and figs in alternate layers in the pan and bake. – Owens, Frances.  Mrs. Owens’ New Cook Book.  1897.

Figs were made into fritters, sweet bread, and around the turn of the century cookbooks were filled with recipes for either fig ice cream or fig and walnut ice cream.  If the flavor of the figs is liked, they can be chopped and used in most recipes as a substitute for raisins.  The possibilities are endless. 

For those people who claim they don’t cook, don’t worry, there’s something for you as well.  Try wrapping fresh figs in prosciutto, splitting them and inserting a candied pecan half in the middle, or quartering them in a salad.

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collard greens

Cabbages aren’t fond of broiling heat and so does better in spring and fall in the South, whereas collard greens are well suited to the heat of a Southern summer.  They’ve never been as well received in the North, but in the South they knew no cultural boundaries. 

“The collard, to the rank and file of Georgia Crackers, is what the potato is to the Irishman, and a dish of collard greens is a sine qua non of the dinner of the farm laborer, black or white.”

Collards grow in a unique pattern with the top leaves gathering to form a center rosette.  By cropping, or cutting the under leaves and leaving the rosette intact in the top, the greens will produce an abundant crop of leaves throughout the year.  That made them especially dear during hard times. 

The more the collard is cropped, the taller grows its stem, and it is nothing unusual to see straggling rows of stems some four feet high, crowned at the top with a rosette of dark-green leaves, and with brave little sprouts putting out up its entire length where the leaves have been taken off for cooking.  They live all through the summer, grow delightfully tender and juicy under Jack Frost’s attentions, and then in February go to seed along with those which have been sewn in the fall for the special purpose of making seed for sale to the dealers. 

The European collard descended from the wild cabbages and is the oldest form of brassica.  They were also called a rosette colewort, green rosette colewort, or simply collard, and was capable of forming a small head although it was generally cut for greens.  It grew to a height of 8 to 10 inches.  Both the ancient Greeks and Romans left records of loose leaf coleworts that were grown as well as harvested in their wild form. 

These plants were grown in the U.S. by 1699, and over time evolved into the Georgia collard which grew taller and was especially appreciated in the South.  “It is not likely that collards will become popular in the North, as kale is common and cheap and better adapted to a cold climate.”  It is not known exactly when the Georgia collard made its debut, or who is responsible for its altered characteristics, but in 1905 one writer claimed the first Georgia-grown collard seed had been sent North some 35 years prior.

In 1896, a comment was made that, “Everyone knows how good a dish of collard greens are with a “chunk of bacon”. 

In 1880, John Green described the importance of collards in the Southern diet by saying:

To the inhabitants of the country districts of the South, where there are no markets, and the daily allowance consists of salt meat, rice, potatoes and the like, and where fresh beef is scarcely ever tasted by the poor people, the collard is a very great blessing; because when boiled in a pot with a piece of fat meat and balls of corn meal dough, having the size and appearance of ordinary white turnips, called dumplings, it makes palatable a diet which would otherwise be all but intolerable.  And they are very dearly liked by nearly everyone who has been raised on Southern soil, including even some of her most dignified statesmen. 

Seasoning is of prime importance in turning the ubiquitous collard into the perfect harmony of greens, fat, salt, and pepper that we appreciate so well.  That characteristic flavor comes primarily from smoked meat – originally bacon, ham, ham hock, or fatback, and in recent, more health conscious times, smoked turkey pieces. 

In the late 1880’s, Parthenia Hague wrote of her experiences in Alabama during the Civil War and said she knew Southern men who claimed they had not had a good dish of collard greens or cabbage since the war years.  The reason Mrs. Hague gave for that was that in pre-war times there had always been a plentiful supply of bacon supplied for the slave cabin and for the tables of the whites, the fat from which was generously added to the pots of greens that slowly simmered for hours before being served.  During the war years and Reconstruction bacon and other meat was very scarce and thus the flavor of the greens paled in comparison to those of former times. 

William Cullen Bryant wrote of the inhabitants of South Carolina hunting alligators for the tail meat in 1850, and quoted a South Carolina woman as saying, “Coon and collards is pretty good fixins, but ‘gator and turnips I can’t go, no how”. 

Collard greens figured prominently on the list of vegetables grown for market in the South.  Just after the turn of the century, several hundred acres were bound for the Atlanta market alone.  “While it has been a leading vegetable in the Southern home garden for a century or more, yet up to ten years ago was not offered to the trade”. 

We’ve seen that collards are simply coleworts which continue to grow in a loose leaf pattern, are pretty basic, and were known in many cultures.  Let’s conclude our discussion with a look at how they were prepared.  In the spirit of Hannah Glasse’s “First Catch Your Hare”, with collard greens, “First get yourself a good cast iron pot” for that traditional flavor. 

During the war years callalou was a mixture of collards, poke salad, and turnip greens, boiled for dinner and fried over for supper.  “This was the invention of Jimsy, an old negro brought over from the West Indies…”  Poke is native to North America, South America, possibly East Asia and New Zealand so if Jimsy found it in the East Indies it was introduced there, but collards grew in numerous areas other than the southeastern U.S.

Mr. Harris’s comment meant that Jimsy knew how to cook flavorful greens, including collards, and probably adapted the technique to whatever greens grew nearby.  – Harris, Joel Chandler.  A Plantation Printer.  1892.  London. 

In very early Kentucky times, the universal dinner, winter and spring at every farm house in the state, was a piece of middling bacon, boiled with cabbage, turnips, greens, collards or cabbage sprouts, according to the season.  The pot, if the family had a large one, contained about ten gallons, and was nearly filled with clean pure water, the middlings and the greens were put in at the proper time, to give them a sufficient cooking.  Almost always the cook would make with water and corn meal and a little salt, dough balls, throw them into the pot, and boil them thoroughly with the rest.  These were called ‘dodgers’ from the motion given them by the boiling water in the pot.  They eat very well, and give a considerable variety to a dinner of bacon and collards.  – Halls Journal of Health.  January 1859. 

Collards are cabbage in which the fleshy leaves are not formed into a head but are long like cos lettuce.  This variety is grown principally in the southern part of the United States where they do not have sufficient cold weather to head or harden cabbage.  Collards are usually boiled in salted water and served according to any of the rules for cooking kale, spinach, or chopped cabbage.  – Rorer, Sarah Tyson Hester.  1909.  Philadelphia.

SOURCES:  The Garden Magazine.  Feb. 1905. Poultry, Garden, & Home.  March 1896.  Hague, Parthenia.  A Blockaded Family:  Life in Southern Alabama During the Civil War.  1888.  Davis, James R.  Up-to-Date Truck Growing in the South.  1910.  Atlanta.  Southern Cultivator.  1889.  Green, John Patterson.  Recollections of the Inhabitants, Localities, and Superstitions of the Carolinas.  Bryant, William Cullen.  Letters of a Traveller.  1850.  London.