Portland Punches: Selections from Portland Women's Exchange

One more punch post today -- this one is a round up of punch recipes from The Portland Woman's Exchange Cook Book. All these come in the chapter "Beverages for Invalids and Others." If you're feeling need of validation, pull up to the punch bowl.

Exchange Fruit Punch

1 doz. lemons.
3 oranges.
1/2 cup cherries.
1 1/2 cup sugar.
2 cups fruit juice (any kind).
Enough water to make 1 gallon.
Mrs. Gertrude Hall.

Just so you know, it was very hard to type periods at the end of each line there. I'm so used to the current convention of, well, no periods at the end of ingredients in recipes.

I'm pretty sure that this Gertrude Hall is the Gertrude Hall, who, at the ripe old age of 10, crossed the continent as a pioneer, and survived the Whitman massacre. If she is, she and her second husband, Owen Denny, were the people who introduced pheasants to Oregon. I say "if" because, well, they don't list her as Mrs. Gertrude Hall Denny, which is how most places reference her. Let's just imagine she's a survivor of the massacre...and that she makes a mean punch.

Fruit Punch
1 cup lemon juice.
2 cups sugar.
1 pt. fruit juice (made of currants, raspberries, strawberries--all sorts).
1 pineapple, grated.
2 quts. water (ice).
Mrs. Henry E. Jones

Also hard: typing "quts." instead of "qt".

I've never thought of grating a pineapple, but I'd imagine that is a handy way to get pineapple pulp. You know, if you can't just hop down to the store and buy a can of crushed pineapple.

I won't rat you out if you choose to go the crushed pineapple route. If you grate, though, I'd love to see pictures of the process.

There's a portrait of Mrs. Jones in the Smithsonian's collection. The inventory tag reads:

Mrs. Jones was the wife of Thomas A. Savier, an early Portland resident (1850), and after his death she married Dr. Henry E. Jones, an early Portland surgeon and first chief of staff of St. Vincent's Hospital.

And, just because we can, let's call her by her maiden name: she was born Mary Miller. Thanks for the recipe, Mary.

One more!

Laureate Mint Punch

Put into a punch bowl 1 cup granulated sugar; add the juice of 6 lemons and stir until the sugar is dissolved. Then add three lemons sliced very thin and set it in the ice chest until ready to serve. Then add 1 dozen sprays of mint and a quart or more of crushed ice. Stire well and pour from a height into it 2 or 3 bottles of imported ginger ale.
Mrs. H. D. Story.

That sounds refreshing! I'm not at all sure how big the bottles of ginger ale are, but I'm absolutely sure you don't have to splash out for imported stuff. How about we go with "add to taste" or "go for about a gallon of total volume"?

Sounds Like My Kind Of Party: A Celebrated Tipsy Charlotte

Mix booze with dessert and I'm a happy camper. No surprise, then, that this recipe from The Portland Woman's Exchange Cook Book is slated for a grey and dessert-needing Friday.

A Celebrated Tipsy Charlotte.

Take sufficient lady fingers to fill your glass dish; 1 lb. of almonds, blanched and split; fill a bowl about two-thirds full of Sherry wine, add one-third water, sweeten to taste; split the lady fingers lengthwise and dip them into the wine; arrange a layer in the bottom of your dish, then a layer of almonds, and so on, until your dish is nearly full. Make a custard of 5 eggs to a quart of milk, flavor with almond. When cold pour over your lady fingers; let stand 1 hour. If you can procure it whip 1 pint of triple cream to a stiff froth and put on top of dish, dotting it here and there with minute triangles of currant jelly.

Mrs. Martin Winch.

Mrs. Winch is a homegirl! She was born Nellie Amelia Wygant in Oregon City, Oregon. Aw! End of the Oregon Trail! And, golly, she was great-granddaughter of John McLaughlin! If that doesn't get me frothing at the mouth with imagined closeness and coolness, Martin was the guy who cleared the way for Reed College to come into being. These people? Solid Oregonian Stock.

Evidently, Solid Oregonian Stock folks assume that you know how to make a custard.

Chefly Husband's mom shares a story wherein a friend from India wanted to make an English dessert. She chose to make a trifle, and was confused by the recipe, but plowed ahead. Except she used what she thought of as lady fingers... okra.

Do not use okra to make this celebrated tipsy charlotte.

Leftover Mashed Potatoes? Potato Doughnuts

When I visit family in Portland, I make a point to go to Voodoo Doughnut for the best decadent doughnuts around. Before being converted to the fancy pants modern doughnuts, though, I was a Muno's girl. Their cake donuts, cooked in lard, are amazing. Old fashioned. Crispy. Soft. Delicious.

I have to think that this recipe, from The Portland Woman's Exchange Cook Book, would produce a more Muno's-esque doughnut than Voodoo-esque -- just right for dunking in a cup of coffee, or a glass of milk.

Potato Doughnuts.

One pint mashed potatoes. While hot add 1 tablespoon of butter, 2 cups of sugar. When cool add 3 eggs, unbeaten, one at a time, 1 teaspoon salt, nutmeg, 1 teacup sweet milk, 6 even teaspoons baking powder. Roll smoothly, cut and turn all the time. This recipe makes 6 dozen. The potatoes keep them moist.

Mrs. D. A. Shindler.

I can not imagine I'd ever have leftover mashed potatoes; to make this, I'd say you have to make the potatoes special. Or, if you have more self-control when it comes to hot buttery carb-laden side dishes, just cook extra taters at dinner time, and use the leftovers in the morning.

You know... on one of those mornings when you have a need for six dozen doughnuts.

There's no hint as to how to fry up your doughnuts, other than "turn all the time." Find another doughnut recipe, get out your deep fat fryer, and follow their suggestions. Don't overcrowd the fryer; do it in batches, folks.

Serve with coffee. Serve with milk. Serve with hot cocoa (yes, I'm still singing "Earthen Vessels" to myself, and thinking of doughnuts at the same time as that song has me firmly back in the basement of Ascension, having doughnuts and cocoa after church).

Tomatoes Need Not Apply: Three Catsups, No Tomatoes

You say "ketchup," I say "catsup." Okay, I used to. Again, regionality... We used both words in our family, but my dad was more likely to say "catsup." (Sadly, like saying "pop" instead of "soda," the homogenization of US culture has spread into my dad's lingo, and he's more... standard... now; he asks for a soda, he uses ketchup.) Other sites can tell you about the change of the words and the contents, but I'll go for a one - two - three punch: a variety of catsups, from The Portland Woman's Exchange Cook Book:

Cucumber Catsup (Uncooked).

Peel and chop 6 green cucumbers (table size), add 1 green pepper and 2 small onions, minced; drain this and add salt, pepper and vinegar to tasted and turn it into glass jars. Use for sandwiches or with cold meats.

Mrs. F. B. Waite

Take away the green pepper, and this pretty much sounds like what my dad would make anytime there were cucumbers to be had. Cucumbers and vinegar, uncooked, and enjoyed cold with sammiches, or even plain. Not quite sure what Mrs. Waite means by "table size," but I'm choosing to believe that she just means you shouldn't let them get ginormous on the vine. Harvest 'em young, folks!

Mushroom Catsup.

Wipe freshly gathered mushrooms, put in layers in earthen vessels, sprinkling salt between each layer. Cover with damp cloth and stand in a warm place 36 hours; then wash and strain. To each quart of liquid add 1 ounce pepper corns, boil 30 minutes, then add 1 ounce each whole cloves and allspice, 1/2 ounce ginger root, 1 blade mace; simmer 20 minutes. When cold, strain and bottle.

L. C. C. B.

The I-grew-up-Catholic-in-the-70s part of me is now singing "Earthen Vessels," and I fear it'll be with me for a few days, at least. ("We hold a treasure, not made of gold. In earthen vessels, wealth untold.")

Okay, back to the recipe! This sounds more like a ketchup... at least it sounds like it'd be liquid, thick and savory, instead of chunky, fresh, and tangy. The first catsups were usually mushroom or walnut based, so this is more "authentic" than the Heinz we know and love. No clue about the contributor, though she also gave a recipe for mustard pickles which looks yummy (cauliflower, onions, green tomatoes, cukes, and both red and green peppers). She also contributed the next old-school catsup:

Walnut Castup.

Use soft green walnuts; grind or pound in earthen mortar, then turn into stone jar, sprinkle with salt, and cover with vinegar; stand 1 week, stirring well each day. Strain through a coarse cloth. To each gallon of liquid add 1 ounce each of whole cloves, peppercorns, ginger, mace and celery seed, 1/2 a crushed nutmeg, 1 clove of garlic, 1/2 teaspoon cayenne. Boil slowly.

L. C. C. B.

I can't imagine what this tastes like. I've never had unripe walnuts, and I'm curious as to what they taste like. There's an Italian liquor made from unripe walnuts, there's all sorts of things one can do with them... I need to find someone with a green walnut tree!

M.S.; Huckleberry Cake

My father is a forester in Oregon. Love of the woods is pretty much required for our family. We used to go on long hikes with him, into watersheds and woodlands most people couldn't get into. On those hikes, we would pick berries. We'd eat them out of hand, or, if there were enough to merit leftovers, bake them into muffins, or pancakes.

Most of the time, the berries were huckleberries. Oh, huckleberries! So wonderful. I haven't had any since hitting the East Coast. This recipe from The Portland Woman's Exchange Cook Book sends me back.

Huckleberry Cake

3 eggs.
1/2 cup sugar.
3 tablespoons melted butter.
1 cup milk.
1 1/2 pints flour.
1 teaspoon baking powder.
1 pint huckleberries.
Bake in shallow pans in a quick oven, from 10 to 15 minutes.

M.S.

We're supposed to assume the author(ess) by the M. S. We're also supposed to assume the oven temperature, and the method of mixing.

Wow.

Flipping back a few pages, I find some guidance for temperature:

The oven for baking bread should be hot enough to brown a teaspoon of flour in five minutes. For biscuits it should brown in 1 minute.

Still no help on method. Let's assume we do it this way: Beat eggs. Mix in sugar. Add melted butter, stir until combined. Add milk, stir until combined. Sift the baking powder in with the flour. Add flour/powder mixture to the the wet ingredients, stirring until combined. Add huckleberries and stir gently until evenly dispersed.

That should do it.

I'd try it out for y'all, but where is a DC gal to get huckleberries? (Okay, okay; blueberries could substitute...)

It's Not Fried Cucumbers: Tomatoes Portland

End of summer means tomatoes. For me, it always sends me back to Grandpa's garden, and stealing tomatoes, warm from the sun, right off the vine. The Portland Woman's Exchange Cook Book has a suitably Oregonian way to enjoy the season's tomatoes:

Tomatoes Portland

Select some small tomatoes about the size of walnuts and cut a slice from each in the region of the stalk. Squeeze out all their water and seeds, and marinate them for 10 minutes. Prepare a mince of crab legs with oil, salt, paprika and tarragon vinegar, and add thereto per 2 ounces of the crab 1/2 a tablespoon of chopped parsley, chervil and tarragon and a small hard-boiled egg, also chopped. Thicken the whole with 1 tablespoon of thick mayonnaise, put it into a bag fitted with smallest tube, using enough of mayonnaise to form a kind of dome upon each tomato.

By courtesy Chef of Portland Hotel.

I have never used the word "thereto" in writing a recipe, myself. I'm completely charmed by describing tomatoes as "the size of walnuts" -- I think we're safe substituting cherry tomatoes, aren't you?

For the crab, use Dungeness if you can get it. It's an Oregonian recipe, after all -- Dungeness is the only way to go. I know that, having spent more than half my life a stone's throw from the Chesapeake means I should be a blue crab devotée, but... I'm just not. There's nothing like the sweet wonderfulness of Dungeness. It is the crab.

The last recipe on the page is for fried cucumbers. As in: cut one in half, dredge it in eggs, roll it in cracker crumbs, and fry. ...I swear, that's not really Oregon food. Honest.

Take Two Nice Mallards; Duck Salmi

Today's recipe is yet another one chosen on the basis of name. I'd never heard of "salmi" before, nor had Chefly Husband. Turns out, salmis are heavily spiced wine-based stews with minced game. Mushrooms and/or truffles are common.

Clearly, this is a Take One Cookbook... kind of recipe.

Oh, and if anyone tries to tell you that the California wine business is a relatively new business, laugh in their faces. Then, show them this recipe from The Portland Woman's Exchange Cook Book.

Duck Salmi

Take two nice mallards, draw and wash them, and wipe inside and out with a dry cloth. Cut 1/4 pound of bacon into dice, and fry till brown in an iron kettle. Then add 1/4 pound of butter, and fry the ducks till will browned in this. Add 2 or 3 chopped onions, and stir until they are browned. Add salt, pepper, 6 cloves, 2 or 3 bay leaves, a little celery seed, and enough water to cover the ducks. Let all simmer very slowly for 1 hour. Then add 1 pint white wine (California Riesling is excellent), skim off the fat, and let all cook slowly an hour. Add 1 or 2 cans of mushrooms, sliced, and cook slowly for 20 minutes. Serve the ducks on a platter, surrounded by wedges of toast, with the mushrooms and gravy poured over the toast.

Mrs. Lavinia T. Whalley.

I don't know why Lavinia T. Whalley saw fit to serve this on toast. Duck on a Shingle doesn't sound anywhere near as elegant as a nice Pasta with Duck Ragout. Maybe it was her earthy pioneer self coming to the front.

For, lo, Mrs. Lavinia T. Whalley was a pioneer. She crossed over the Oregon Trail (well, only as far as to the crossroads to go to California... and then she took the wrong turn) at the ripe old age of five, with her parents. At 20, she married John William Whalley, who'd come West to hunt gold, and eventually worked his way up to Oregon, read law with several folks, and eventually became a Big Name in Law in Oregon. Lavinia (why don't people name their daughters Lavinia anymore?) outlived her husband, which we could pretty much tell by the way she's referenced in this cookbook. So, the widow Whalley, and her duck-laden sauce on toast.

The "T." stands for Talitha. I'm pretty sure I can guess why people don't name their daughters Talitha much any more.

We didn't eat duck much, if at all, growing up. My mom was convinced that duck was fatty, greasy and gross until after Chefly Husband became a cook. I don't remember if it was a duck breast dish he made for her, or duck confit, but she loved it, and is firmly converted to the church of duck yumminess.

The Portland Woman's Exchange Cook Book; Eggs a la Rector

I grew up just outside of Portland, Oregon, so it shouldn't be a big surprise that a lot of my cookbooks focus on the Pacific Northwest. This week, we'll be looking at The Portland Woman's Exchange Cook Book from 1913; it was reprinted in 1973 with an introduction and ample notation from another native Oregonian, James Beard. Let's go to the master's introduction:

The Woman's Exchange, as you probably remember, was a national movement...that provided otherwise unemployed people with a marketplace for their handicrafts and their talents. ...The Portland Woman's Exchange, which functioned up until the Second World War, maintained one or two homes. ...

The most dedicated members of the Exchange produced this book. It contains many mouthwatering recipes, but beyond that it is a record of living for a particular period of Portland's history.

Boy, is it ever! The reprint has retained all the 1913 advertisements, like this one for the Hotel Multnomah which offers guaranteed fire-proof accommodations for up to $5 a night.

In Beard's introduction, he references some of his favorite dishes in the book, and despairs of some others (there's a cherry salad that he mocks; I think it sounds tasty, if a bit over-thought -- basically, you stone a bunch of cherries, and then stuff them with whole, shelled filberts). While feeling the Beardian love, might as well use one of the recipes he admired:

Eggs a la Rector*

Cut an onion very fine and fry in butter. Add a cup of good cream and boil 5 minutes. Cut 4 hard-boiled eggs in 1/2-inch slices, season with salt and pepper; put them into cream and onion, and heat thoroughly. Serve quickly.

Mrs. Wm. H. Crane

* Classically known as Eggs a la Tripe or Oeufs a la Tripe. A very good dish. (J.B.)

Personally, it sounds tastier a la Rector than a la Tripe. Don't think this is a dish where you can substitute lower-fat dairy goods; anything other than full-fat cream won't stand up to the boiling.

Beard points out that Mrs. Wm. H. Crane was married to the William H. Crane, star of stage and, to a lesser degree, screen. Don't know how the Cranes got to Oregon, but they left their mark with this recipe, if nothing else.

It's actually a lot of fun as a transplanted Portland-ish girl to flip through and read all the contributors' names; they are the same names as concert halls and roads and schools and auditoriums all over the state.

Side note: the links to the book titles this week won't go to Amazon searches, as in the past, but to Google Books... the entire 1913 version of the book is available electronically free of charge...have fun with it.