Gingerbread (in the) House

Illustration by Tasha Tudor
Illustration by Tasha Tudor

Here we are again, at the time of year known as Impending Parental Visit, which causes a variety of reactions ranging from full-on repaint the kitchen and both baths freak out (whilst nursing an 8-week-old Young Mr) to Eh, she’s got a dog acceptance.

This year, Mr S had the freak out, and has undertaken a living room painting project which he has carried out on weekends since Thanksgiving. It does look good, and I am grateful for his persistence, because this year’s late fall and early winter brought me a serious case of the blues.

That's a happy cat!
happy cat!

I’m in the midst of trying to finish a dress before my mother arrives (my sewing area is really our dining table, with the Strategic Fabric Reserve stowed in sideboards and cupboards). Yesterday, I tried it on: it fits, and looks rather nice (grey wool, and when it’s done, you’ll see it). But it fails in intention: clearly, it is no maid’s dress.

But I felt so much happier in my stays and petticoat that I dug up the wool dress made for farm adventures, put on my apron, and made ginger bread.

The cat approves of my reading material.
The cat approves of my reading material.

The recipe, which I shared recently with a friend, is an old Rhode Island family receipt, and very similar to the Tasha Tudor cookbook receipt. (The Howling Assistant approved of Tasha’s Roast Chicken receipt. She is a poultry fan.)

When copying over the receipt for my friend, I forgot the hot water, and failed to warn him that this gingerbread cake is best eaten with a fork. Delicious, but sticky, here it is:

1/4 cup butter, room temperature or a little softer
1 cup sugar
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 cup boiling water
Combine the last two ingredients and pour over the butter & sugar.
Add 3/4 cup molasses
Combine well.

Sift into the liquid mixture:
1.5 cups flour
1/2 teaspoon ginger (I use a heaping 1/2 tsp)
1 teaspoon cinnamon
pinch salt

Combine gently. Into the mixture drop one unbeaten egg.
Beat the whole with a hand-cranked eggbeater or whisk.

Pour into greased 9×13 pan, and bake at 350F for 35 to 40 minutes, or until a toothpick comes out clean.

Gingerbread cake
Gingerbread cake

Good with tea, coffee and clementines. I’ve made this perhaps a dozen times, once without the egg, and it’s always edible. (The egg provides some leavening, so made without it, the cake is dense and extra sticky.) Baking it makes the whole house smell good and it’s a simple, one-bowl receipt. For an easy holiday treat to share, I recommend this Rhode Island Gingerbread Cake.

Whimsical Whiskered Wednesday

A quintetto. Musical Amateurs. Hand colored etching by Piercy Roberts, after George Moutard Woodward, 1803. British Museum1981,U.199
A quintetto. Musical Amateurs. Hand colored etching by Piercy Roberts, after George Moutard Woodward, 1803. British Museum1981,U.199

E’en Age itself is cheard with Music. It wakes a glad Remembrance of our Youth, Calls back past Joy’s and warms us into Transport. Vide Rowe read the lines at the top of this engraving, and while I’m fairly confident the Rowe referred to is Nicholas Rowe, I have not connected the quote to him.

Instead, you’re treated to the image that struck me as I searched for 1820s maids at the British Museum. Happily, my household is one cat and one cockatoo short of this reality, but it pretty much sums up breakfast time Chez Calash, when I am too slow with the breakfast portions, and the beasts begin to sing.

Happy Thanksgiving, American readers. I’m taking a short break from museum thinking to wrangle our dinner to the table, attempt to finish a gown, and catch up on some sleep.

Frivolous Friday: Comforts of a Rumpford

A companion pl. to BMSat 9813. A pretty young woman wearing a décolleté négligé, stands with her back to the fire, her gown raised to leave her posterior naked. She holds a book: 'The Monk - a Novel by M' ['G. Lewis', cf. BMSat 9932]; another is open on the floor: 'Œconomy of Love by Dr Arm[strong', 1736]. A cat rolls on its back. On a table are a decanter of 'Creme de Noyau', and an open book: 'The Kisses'. On the mantelpiece are flowers and an ornate clock with embracing cupids. A picture partly covered by a curtain represents Danaë receiving the golden shower. The room, apparently that of a courtesan, is luxuriously furnished. 26 February 1801 Hand-coloured etching, British Museum, 1935,0522.7.12
A companion pl. to BMSat 9813. A pretty young woman wearing a décolleté négligé, stands with her back to the fire, her gown raised to leave her posterior naked. She holds a book: ‘The Monk – a Novel by M’ [‘G. Lewis’, cf. BMSat 9932]; another is open on the floor: ‘Œconomy of Love by Dr Arm[strong’, 1736]. A cat rolls on its back. On a table are a decanter of ‘Creme de Noyau’, and an open book: ‘The Kisses’. On the mantelpiece are flowers and an ornate clock with embracing cupids. A picture partly covered by a curtain represents Danaë receiving the golden shower. The room, apparently that of a courtesan, is luxuriously furnished. 26 February 1801
Hand-coloured etching, British Museum, 1935,0522.7.12

I’ve left that caption intact, though it seems quite long enough for a blog post itself. This image turned up on Twitter (you can follow me there @kittycalash, expect randomness) and delighted me at the end of a long, tough week. I’m particularly taken with the cat, which resonates with an lolcat that floated about the interwebs last winter. The interwebs can be a strange place…

But aside from that silly cat, there are a wealth of details in this image, some of which are explicated in the caption.

What struck me- after the cat– was the slipcover on the sofa. How lame is that– but it’s true. Floral print, I suspect, but possibly woven, it’s loosely draped and long. I’m more familiar with the checked linen slipcovers seen in representation of New England interiors, so the floral really struck me. I suppose those linen checks symbolize all the puritanical uprightness and restraint of early Federal New England dons (if you believe in that kind of thing), while the loose floral print drapery tells you everything you need to know about our Rumpford friend.

We all see what we want to see…cats, slip covers, or courtesans.

Discipline’s the Thing

Warning: Gratuitous Cat Photos

The Howling Assistant attempts to build her core
The Howling Assistant attempts to build her core

As the Howling Assistant will attest, Pilates can be brutal. Here she is, stuck over her blubberous expanse of belly. To be fair, she was very sick as a kitten and as a result seems to gain weight no matter what she eats.

She watches from the sofa every morning while I collapse in a heap of quivering, cat-fur-accented jelly. At least she’s entertained.

The Cat Family Folk Portrait

There was entertainment in abundance in Pawtucket yesterday, where I spotted a new genre of folk art I had not seen before. By the time you strip off the layers of weirdness, you’ve moved through appropriation, jokiness and Post Modernism to sincerity and then I’m not sure quite where you end up. I’ve seen the “historic portraits with cats and dogs” genre before, done well and done poorly, but never anything quite so home-grown as this. I have to agree with my friend that the carpet’s pretty wonderful, and the details captured in he Hitchcock chairs are well-observed. Art’s a curious thing, and observation. It pleased me to find this, and I hope in some way it will please you to see it. We’re strange creatures; enjoy the ride.