Camp Cooking

Our first overnight, camping-in reenactment went fairly well. Why the artillerists had to bring a concertina to a gunfight, I’ll never know, but a 2:36 AM rendition of “Good Night Ladies” was truly unnecessary.

The most important thing I can emphasize about reenacting in high summer is to stay hydrated. We brought the big white water pitcher we used at the House Cleaning in April, sliced a lime into it, and filled it repeatedly at the town pump. The Young Mr doesn’t like lime in his water, so he filled the coffee pot for himself, but the rest of our Regiment and members of the 10th Mass helped themselves liberally. It was well worth bringing.

The meals we ate were simple: apples, bread, ham and cheese for breakfast and lunch (I forgot to bring the eggs…) and beef stew for dinner. The stew is the most interesting part of the business. Mr S bought the meat, and without even realizing it, he picked up the appropriate amount of rations. Men were supposed to be issued a pound of beef and a pound of flour or bread a day; women, half that, and children a quarter. The amount we packed was a pound and three quarters. Seemed like too much when I packed it into the cooler, but as it turned out, we ate it all.

Enhanced Ration Stew (feeds 3 to 4)

  • 1.75 pounds beef stew meat
  • 3 carrots, sliced
  • 1 very large onion, roughly chopped
  • 4-5 small, firm, potatoes, cubed
  • Half a small kettle of water
  • 2 packets or cubes of portable soup (beef boullion)

Note: start the fire and get it hot before you bring the meat out…

Cut the meat into smaller chunks, add to the kettle, and place over the fire. Brown the meat on all sides; note that this will take as long as it takes.

When the meat is browned, add the onions and cook until they start to get soft. Add the rest of the ingredients, stir, and cover.

Bring to a rolling boil for at least twenty minutes; stir occasionally. Be sure to add wood to the fire to keep it hot. I think we cooked our stew for about 2.5 hours, but it’s hard to say exactly, as we were not wearing timepieces. We started the fire after the battle, which would have been at about 3:30 or 4:00, and ate around 6:30.

I used my pocketknife to slice the vegetables first, and arranged them in our wooden bowls. Then I sliced the beef into smaller chunks, using a piece of firewood as a cutting surface—since it gets burned, you don’t have to wash anything but the knife in hot water. Thanks to the 40th Foot at the SOI for demonstrating that technique.

Sturbridge Lessons

20120807-054104.jpgThe game warden is coming for my shift.

It has the most distinctive odor, and my friends at work should thank me in advance for not bringing it in. Wood smoke, sweat, rain, black powder and something else I cannot place all infuse the fabric, and it will be a shame to wash it, except that it is, truly, gamey enough to suggest I need a license to keep it. So, the lesson learned from this, and other observations:

Make another shift. Make another two shifts, even. You will want a dry one to sleep in, or to put on in the morning. I didn’t get rained on until 4:00 PM on Sunday. No, I soaked every layer of my clothing with sweat. Make another shift, stat!

Make a bedgown. In trying to maintain maximum 18th century effect, the stay-less parade to the flush toilet necessitated short gown over shift. My short gown is pleated to be worn over stays. Ahem. Make a bed gown, now I truly get their purpose, and as soon as I clean up the house, that’s what is going on my sewing table.

Line your stays. I was too lazy or busy or finger-chewed to finish installing the lining in my stays. Now they’ve gotten soaked through, I have a sweat line on my stomacher. Gross, isn’t it? Authentic, but….Line your stays. Just do it.

Make more than one cap. I have three, and was so glad to have a dry one for Sunday. Saturday’s cap now has sweat stains.

A Box in a (not quite) Day

Since I made a new knapsack based on the example in the Fort Ticonderoga collection (see also Henry Cooke’s work, or The Packet III, page 28), I had paint. When you have paint, you want to put it on something. I put mine on a box.

Ikea had ‘Kartotek’ birch ply boxes one year, and the Young Mr was using some as treasure chests in his room, but now that he’s growing up a bit, he was willing to have one remodeled. The lines were pretty basic and the construction simple enough that I thought we could do a kind of recon on this box. (Recon is Library Lingo for “retrospective conversion.”)

First, I took it apart and sanded it. Don’t forget to cover work surfaces and expect to sweep/tack cloth up dust from both the box and everything around the box. Mr. S helped me out by drilling out the riveted handles, and re-drilling holes large enough to take the rope we had. It smells like hemp, but I have no idea where it came from–perhaps a Christmas tree excursion.

All good so far, sanded, drilled, and ready to take the paint. I thought one coat would be enough, since I had the red stain underneath, and wear and tear make things look better, so, fantastic! Time to put it together.

Hold on there, pilgrim. I looked at the screws. They were Phillips head, and not really brass. That’s not right! I’ve crawled under enough old tables to know that screws are flat, slot-head, and made of brass in this time period. With the rise of the screw gun/cordless drill, this kind of screw is no longer easy to find. They’re all Phillips at the big box hardware stores, and our little speciality store recently downsized and rearranged.

Was I really screwed? No, thanks to the interwebs. Slot-head brass screws are still used in marine applications, so I was able to order a bag from Amazon–the local chandlers seem to have given way to WestMarine, and they seemed only to have stainless steel screws.

The package came on Wednesday, I got out the screw driver, and after what totals up to a day’s work, we have a box for the Young Mr S to stash his stuff in when in camp. I expect the box to soon contain one book about dragons, several sticks and rocks, a tangle of fishing line, an empty candy wrapper, and an apple core. Also, homework that counts towards his grade.

Houston, We Have a Tent

Well, almost.

One of the guys in the regiment traded the widow of another guy a RevWar GI Joe for a  tent. But he doesn’t need the tent, so he called us because he heard we were thinking about making a tent. The conversation with Mr. S took many more words than that, but I think that’s about the gist of the transaction. Poles are being sought, and even if they are not found, we have a draw knife. So we have tentage for August– one more thing to cross off the list. I still want to make a hemp canvas tent, but at least we should be set for August.

Today, after we went to an antique mall in Greenville, I started on a delayed project. We have wallpaper-covered boxes at work, and today I found a roll of wallpaper border. It’s not 18th century, but it reminded me of some late 18th-century paper at work. So I bought it, and started on boxes. The housewife I made is nice, but I’d like a bigger box for hiding things in–combs, toothbrush, who knows what. It’s a simple enough project using A. C. Moore boxes, paint, the border, and glue as well as generous applications of sandpaper. Tonight, paint; tomorrow, sandpaper.