Punch Request: Fruit Punch Delight

I got a request for some non-alcoholic punches that didn't include fruit juice concentrates. Here's one from the Milwaukee Ward Relief Society Cookbook:

Fruit Punch Delight

2 c. strawberries
2 bananas
1 c. sugar
1 (20 oz.) can crushed pineapple (drained liquid reserved)
3/4 c. pineapple juice from crushed pineapple
1 qt. orange juice
1 1/2 c. water

Combine strawberries, bananas, pineapple and sugar in blender. Blend until well mixed. Combine with remaining ingredients and stir well. Chill and serve. Makes 3 quarts.

--Gertie Weilder, Pat Leake

Good golly, it's a fruit punch that uses actual fruit! 3 quarts isn't a whole bunch, though--I like to think of punch in terms of gallons.

Seasons Change: Hot Buttered Rum

Today's recipe might seem like a strange choice for the middle of August. But here's the thing: the seasons are changing. Sunset is at 8 PM here in DC, and won't be this late again until April. April! We are officially getting closer to the time when I won't have to say "well, it does have ice cream in it, so that's kind of summery..." to justify this Favorite Recipes from Caldwell, Idaho recipe.

Hot Buttered Rum
Dave Keuneman

Batter:
1 qt. vanilla ice cream
1 lb. brown sugar
1 lb. soft butter

Cream together. Keep refrigerated.

Drink (per cup):
2 heaping tsp. batter
1 oz. rum
6 oz. boiling water

Aaaaaah, hot buttered. The ice cream is a relatively recent addition to the hot buttered arsenal, but I'll tell you -- it's a great addition. If you're mixing this up the day you're going to use it, then the fridge is fine, but otherwise, store this in the freezer. The sugar and butter will help keep the ice cream soft enough to scoop out a big ol' spoonful when you feel a hankering for a hot buttered.

Yes, hot buttered, full stop. As a not-at-all-legal-to-drink kid, I loved a mug of hot buttered...water. It's really quite tasty. It's warm, and milky, and sweet, and spicy.

Spicy. Because of the spices. You know, those spices Mr. Keuneman left out of the recipe. You have two options here: You can use spiced rum with this unspiced batter, or you can add in, say, a tablespoon of cinnamon and a teaspoon or two of nutmeg. There is a third option, come to think of it: spice up the batter and used spiced rum.

Dave is one of only two men who have recipes in Favorite Recipes from Caldwell, Idaho -- Mike Neher has a duck with sauerkraut recipe that also has me yearning for wool-wearing weather. (Simple, really. Basically, it's "stuff a duck with a jar of kraut, and roast it.")

I suggest you make up a double batch of the hot buttered batter, and divvy it up into several quasi-disposable plastic food storage containers (oh, fine...I mean GladWare) and have them on hand for hostess gifts, cookie exchanges, neighbors who shoveled your walk for you, and so forth. It's a great thing to have, it's a great thing to share.

As much as I like making this myself, the best hot buttered rum in the world is at the Clapp Family 23rd Party, an annual caroling party back in my home town. Great people. Great pot luck. Fabulous singing. And a never-ending supply of hot buttered.

Homemade Hootch: Grape Wine

Yesterday, we talked about infusing cheap vodka to make more upscale booze, and, boy, did y'all come running. So, today, we'll look at another DIY hootch recipe from Favorite Recipes from Caldwell, Idaho:

Grape Wine

24 oz. frozen grape juice (undiluted)
1/4 cake soft yeast
4 c. sugar

Stir together with water to fill 1 gallon jug. Place a balloon on the mouth of gallon jug. Let mixture stand in a dark place 3-4 weeks.

What, none of the fine Caldwell Jay-C-Ettes wanted to put her name on Grape Wine? Tsk.

The balloon is your fermentation lock; it lets gas build-up out without letting bacteria in. Other sources for more, shall we say, complicated brewing methods, recommend pricking the balloon with a pin a few times. If the balloon starts swelling and you're worried, disinfect a pin and gently poke. Why not?

Let's talk yeast. It's a pretty safe assumption that they're calling for a 2 oz. cake. Fresh yeast can be a bit hard to find. Fret not: you can substitute other yeasts. Use one package of active dry yeast or instant yeast. It's not a perfect substitute, portion-wise, as it's more like 1/3 of a yeast cake, but you'll be okay.

This is not going to be nuanced -- you're using grape juice from the freezer case, after all. That being said, use quality ingredients, and meticulously clean vessels, and you'll have something drinkable, and the method is a lot less scary than making kvass.

Bug Juice? No, Green Punch!

I had half a mind to be high-minded about the The Fruit of the Spirit: 100th Anniversary of Bittinger Lutheran Parish recipe selections. I really thought I wanted to prove that community cookbooks were treasure troves of fabulous recipes you might otherwise never find.

And then I found Green Punch.

Green Punch
Lottie Brenneman

2 pkgs. lemon-lime Kool-Aid
1 (46-oz.) can pineapple juice
2 quts. water
1 qt. 7-Up or ginger ale
Mix together and add ginger ale or 7-Up last. Sherbert may be added.

Oh, hell, yes. It's nearly Memorial Day weekend, it's going to be in the mid-80s here in DC, and Green Punch? Green Punch sounds like icy cold perfection.

I'm assuming that the packages of Kool-Aid are the "add 1 cup of sugar" kinds...one envelope each, which would normally make 2 quarts of Kool-Aid. I also assume that, with the soda and the juice, there's no need at all to actually add sugar, so the omission in the ingredient list is not so much an omission as a nod to not developing diabetes. Personally, I find diet 7-Up and diet ginger ale to be perfectly acceptable substitutes for the full-sugar variety, so you could shave a couple hundred calories off every serving if you want to make a substitution.

Then again, on the same page, there's "Easy Punch," which has Kool-Aid, pineapple juice, water, 7-Up, ice cream and 3 cups of sugar. If you want to get your sugar high on, you certainly have options in The Fruit of the Spirit.

Green drinks make me think of camp (but in a good way), picnics, birthday parties, field days... It's the sort of thing that feels fancy when you're five. As summer comes on, I think that fancy-for-a-five-year-old is well worth embracing in our culinary endeavors. Cheers.

Mulled Wine with Honey and Orange

When I choose a book for Take One Cookbook, I spend some time going through it, flagging potential recipes with Post-it notes, trying to get a theme for the week, or to get balance between the courses to give the right sense of the book. It's a really relaxing task...sort of like planning a dinner party but without the need to clean the house. I like it very much.

I also like chucking the plans sometimes. I'd flagged nothing but cookies for this week, to jump of last week's candy, and yet... yesterday, I needed eggnog. With that diversion, I've freed myself to chuck the last o the cookie recipes from Christmas 101 and do another Christmasy punchbowl favorite.

When I was a teenager, every year I'd have a hayride, and my friends from choir and theater would come over, warm themselves on mulled cider, and go out either on a flat trailer pulled by my dad's tractor, or occasionally in a horse-drawn wagon. (In suburban Portland. No, really.) Now, I try to keep the tradition going, but adapted for Washington, DC, where I have no access to farm equipment. Every third Sunday of Advent (Pink Sunday, so named for the pink candle on the wreath that gets lit that day, or Gaudete Sunday -- gaudete meaning "rejoicing"), I gather friends and hit the neighborhood to sing whereever we can, and then come back for cookies, mulled cider, and the "grown up" version, mulled wine.

Mulled Wine with Honey and Orange

Makes 2 quarts, about 16 servings

Make Ahead: The wine is best prepared just before serving.

1 large seedless orange
12 whole cloves
12 allspice berries
Two 3-inch cinnamon sticks
3 cardamom pods, crushed (optional)
One 1 1/2-liter bottle fruity red wine, such as Merlot
1 cup honey
2/3 cup Grand Marnier or other orange-flavored liqueur

1. Using a vegetable peeler, remove the zest from the orange. Rinse and wring out a 12-inch square piece of cheesecloth. Wrap the orange zest, cloves, allspice, cinnamon sticks, and cardamom, if using, in the cheesecloth and tie with apiece of kitchen string. Cut the orange in half and squeeze the juice from the oragne. Set the juice aside.

2. In a large non-aluminum pot, combine the wine, honey, Grand Marnier, orange juice, and spice packet, stirring to dissolve the honey. Heat, stirring occasionally, over low heat until hot but not boiling, about 30 minutes. Transfer to a slow cooker set on Low and serve hot.

Do yourself a favor: if you're going to use a slow cooker, just do all your prep in that slow cooker. Transferring hot liquids from one vessel to another when it's not absolutely necessary is crazy.

Why do you need to avoid an aluminum pan? Aluminum reacts with acids, and you've got a lot of acid in this dish -- the wine, the oranges, the Grand Marnier. Use stainless, or if you've got an enameled pot, use that.

The honey I'd do to taste, rather than to measurement. You need to balance out the wine to make it, well, a punch.

I don't recommend having only a pot of mulled wine going; get another pot (how about that aluminum one you couldn't use for wine?) and mull apple cider. You can use the same general recipe, but leave out the wine and liquor. Add a touch of extra flavor by zesting and juicing a lemon.

When serving both mulled treats, try mixing the two in your glass. It's a modern day wassail, and it's darned tasty.

Tomorrow's Pink Sunday. I'll be mulling up a storm, and making a joyful noise with good friends. Cheers!

Old-Fashioned Eggnog

Most of the time, when I want some seasonal 'nog, I get a quart from the grocery store, mix it half-and-half with some 2% milk, grate a little nutmeg on top if I'm feeling fancy, and consider myself nogged.

Sometimes, though, it's worth it to make the real deal, from scratch. If you're having people over (people who drink booze, that is... this is a boozified version), and haven't tried 'nogging, give this recipe from Christmas 101 a try.

Old-Fashioned Eggnog

Makes 3 quarts, about 12 servings

Make Ahead: Eggnog should be chilled at least 4 hours before serving, and served within 24 hours.

6 large eggs, separated
1 1/4 cups superfine sugar (see Note)
1 cup dark rum
1 cup brandy
1/3 cup bourbon
1 1/2 quarts heavy cream
1 pint vanilla ice cream, for serving
Freshly grated nutmeg, for serving

1. In a large bowl, using a hand-held electric mixer at high speed, beat the egg yolks and the sugar until thick. Beat in the rum, brandy, and bourbon, then the cream.

2. In another large bowl, using a hand-held electric mixer at high speed, and using clean beaters, beat the egg whites until soft peaks form. Stir into the eggnog. Cover tightly with plastic wrap and refrigerate until well chilled, at least 4 hours or overnight.

3. Transfer to a punch bowl. Using scissors, cut the container away from the ice cream, keeping the ice cream intact in one piece. Place the ice cream in the eggnog. Grate the nutmeg over the eggnog and serve immediately.

Amaretto Eggnog: Delete the bourbon. Substitute 1 cup Amaretto for the brandy. Decrease the superfine sugar to 1 cup. If desired, add 1/4 teaspoon almond extract. When serving, substitute toasted almond ice cream for the vanilla ice cream.

Note: To make your own superfine sugar, process regular granulated sugar, about 1/2 cup at a time, in a food processor or blender until finely ground. It will take 1 to 2 minutes per batch.

I suppose you could make this without the booze. You could. If you do that, replace the liquid with milk (or cream, if you're really going for thick, thick 'nog). However, if you don't have the booze, you'd best be extra super duper sure your eggs are fresh and clean before you use and crack 'em. Wash the shells before you crack. You don't want your festive 'nog to give anyone salmonella. The booze, by the way, doesn't make this a 100% safe dish. If you're immuno-compromised, including being on the nest, you should think twice about this. Actually, if you're immuno-compromised because you're on the nest, you should probably avoid all recipes that include more than a pint of liquor.

The more you know...

You can't wrap up the 'nog and mail it to far off friends, but somehow, it's just not the Christmas season without eggnog.

Or hot buttered rum.

Oooooh, yes. But we'll post about that on the 23rd.

Cooking for a Crowd; Sunshine Slush

Doubling a recipe? Easy. Tripling? A tiny bit more work, but still... easy. But what if you really want to cook for a crowd? How much of that recipe do you really need? When in doubt, ask the folks who are used to feeding hordes of people, like the fine ladies who contributed to the Milwaukee Ward Relief Society Cookbook.

Approximate Amounts To Serve 50 People

Navy beans for baking: 3 qts. or 6 lbs.
Canned string beans: 2 No. 10 cans
Canned beets: 2 No. 10 cans
Roast beef: 20 lbs.
Roast beef for Swiss steak 3/4 in. thick: 20 lbs.
Ground meat for loaf: 10 lbs.
Butter: 1-1/2 lbs.
Chicken (roasted) 30 lbs.
Chicken pie: 20 lbs.
Coffee: 1 lb.
Baked Ham: 2 hams 10 to 12 lbs. each
Ice cream - dessert: 2 gal.
Ice cream - for pie: 1 gal.
Lettuce: 1 oz. per salad
Head lettuce salad: 7 lbs.
Salted nuts: 1-1/2 lbs.
Olives: 2 qts.
Oysters (escalloped): 1 gal.
Peas: 2 No. 10 cans
Peas and carrots: 1 No. 10 can and 5 lbs carrots
Roast pork or fresh ham: 20 lbs.
Pork chops: 18 lbs.
Potatoes (mashed): 1-1/4 pecks
Sweet potatoes: 13-1/2 lbs.
Rice: 3 lbs.
Rolls: 100 rolls
Soup: 3 gal.
Turkey: 22-25 lbs.
Vegetables (fresh): Beans, beets, carrots or cabbage: 10 lbs.
Whipped cream: 2 pts.

Okay, then! Several of the other cookbooks I've covered so far have had sections on how to cook food enough for a wedding, but I like that this gives options. You could use this list as a guideline for whatever sort of meal you wanted to provide. I personally would provide more ice cream and more whipped cream, but I'm more than a little bit of a slut for dairy-based sweets.

I don't know that 1.5 pounds of butter is going to be enough, if we're all going to have two rolls, and a heaping helping of mashed potatoes and other veg, though.

Once you've sorted out how you're going to feed the hungry masses, you should sort out what to serve them to drink. The Milwaukee Ward Relief Society Cookbook has several punch recipes; being an LDS cookbook, none of them have alcohol. (I'll admit to being surprised at the pound of coffee allotted in the list above, as LDS members don't do caffeine, either.) But, really, not all punches need to be boozy concoctions, right? Right.

Sunshine Slush

3 c. water
1 c. sugar
2 ripe bananas (cut up)
2 (12 oz.) cans unsweetened pineapple juice
1 (6 oz.) can frozen orange juice (thawed)
1 (6 oz.) can frozen lemonade (thawed)
2 T. lemon juice
1 (28 oz.) bottle white soda (chilled)

In saucepan combine water and sugar. Bring to boiling, stirring until sugar is dissolved. Boil gently, uncovered for 3 minutes; remove from heat and cool. In blinder combine bananas and half the pineapple juice. Blend until smooth. Stir in cooled syrup. Stir in the remaining pineapple juice, orange juice and lemonade concentrates and lemon juice. Turn into a 13x9x2 inch pan or plastic freezer container. Cover with moisture vapor-proof material. Freeze at least several hours or as long as 2 months. To serve, remove mixture from freezer. Let stand at room temperature about 30 minutes. Spoon slush into each glass. Slowly pour in white soda, using equal amounts of slush and soda. Makes about 12 1/2 cups of punch.

Mmmm...tropical goodness. Is it wrong that I want to add rum? Coconut rum, to be precise. Mmmm....

If you're trying to use this punch for a crowd of 50, you'll need to at least quadruple the recipe.

A Frugal Tipple: Blackberry Wine

When Depression looms, the prudent householder cuts back on frivolities. This does not, however, mean going without life's little necessities. You know, like booze. Depression Era Recipes gives several recipes for frugal tipples, including this one that seems a bit oddly placed, coming the day after Michaelmas.

Blackberry Wine

1 gal. black berries
1 qt. boiling water
2 lbs. sugar

Bruise berries, add boiling water. Let stand 24 hours, stirring occasionally. Strain off the liquor and put into a cask. Add sugar; cork tight and let stand till next October, when it will be ready for use. It may be bottled.

So, assuming you picked your berries before the Devil spit on them yesterday, this is a great way to use 'em up!

In my family, berries tend to end up more than a little boozy on a regular basis. We don't have the patience to wait a full year for the results, though. Instead, we put clean berries in sterile jars, and cover them with vodka or some other strong spirit, and let 'em marinate for several weeks. Strain and add simple syrup to taste. Mmmmm.

Favorite uses for blackberry wine: mixing with less than stellar merlot. Yes, really. Also great mixed with mead.

Here We Come: Wassail Bowl

Yesterday's comments on mulled wine and a-seasonal food segues nicely into this not-quite-seasonal recipe from Favourite Kentish Recipes:

Wassail Bowl

1 quart ale
1/2 bottle sherry
1 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
1 teaspoon ground ginger
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
2 slices toast
Juice and rind of 1 lemon
2 medium sized baked apples, chopped
Sugar to taste
1 orange

Mix all the ingredients in a large saucepan. Heat the mixture but do not let it boil. Allow to stand for 1 hour. Strain and re-heat. Serve either in a large bowl with slices of orange floating on the surface or in individual mugs or tumblers each with a slice of orange. If using glass tumblers make sure that the mixture is not too hot.

This Old English punch is an ideal and warming drink after Carol Singing.

Chefly Husband, looking over my shoulder, asks, "Why is there toast in it?" Well, it's wicked traditional, and if memory serves, the literal toast in the drink is what gave rise to the verbing (verbification?) of "toast."

I've never had a proper old fashioned wassail, it seems. I make a mean mulled cider, and a mean mulled wine, and, great golly, stand back when I combine the two, but a wassail? I need to try this. There's nothing in it I don't love, after all!

If you don't have two baked apples to spare, just take two unbaked apples, chop them up, and microwave for 5 minutes. Instant "baked" apples. (For just one apple, 3 minutes will do.)

...how long must I wait to try this, to avoid seeming unseemly?

Adventures in Wine Cookery, by California Winemakers; Mulled Sauterne Cup

In water one sees one's own face; but in wine, one beholds the heart of another....
--French Proverb

Adventures in Wine Cookery by California Winemakers, collected and published by the Wine Advisory Board in 1965, came to me through my friend Jeannette's grandmother. Actually, she gave me two copies of the book; the second has long since been passed on to a friend. Mrs. MacCutcheon (grandma in question) received the book from her son, Lloyd, and his wife, Barbara (Jeannette's parents), for Christmas that same year; part of the gift tag is still attached to the title page. Tucked into the book is this note:

I haven't tried too many of these but watch out for the amount of wine. 1/2 of the required is plenty.

Barb

Now, I have nothing but respect for Jeannette's mother in almost every thing in life, but I must warn you: Do not heed Barbara on this! We are not here to be stingy with wine. Indeed, Take One Cookbook... encourages wine cookery whenever possible, and wine consumption, too. Just a half hour ago, Chefly Husband opened up a 1998 Châteauneuf-du-Pape, and I can't wait to give it a slow and loving sip as soon as it has had a chance to breathe. Back to the book...

The Wine Advisory Board in San Francisco gathered recipes from "winemakers, their wives, families and colleagues," including "professors and other staff members of the Department of Viticulture (grape growing) and Enology (winemaking) and the Department of Food Science and Technology of the University of California." Oh, and the folks at Fresno State. Part of the fun in some of these recipes is the name recognition: who's wife contributed, who's son contributed, who was at one vineyard then yet owns his own now...

And, as is true for almost any cookbook, some of the fun comes from well-meaning horror.

Mulled Sauterne Cup

(About 10 servings, 3-oz. size)
Mrs. Frank Franzia, Franzia Brothers Winery, Ripon

1 (6-oz.) can frozen pineapple juice concentrate
3/4 cup California Sauterne or other white table wine
2 1/2 cups water
1/8 teaspoon ground cloves
1/8 teaspoon ground allspice
Dash of salt
1 tablespoon sugar
Combine all ingredients. Heat slowly to just below boiling. Serve hot in preheated cups.

NOTE: Hot wine drinks are becoming more and more popular for all cold weather occasions. This one is different, and good.

I love mulled wine, so thought this might be a good choice. I mentioned it to Chefly Husband who gasped in the horror mentioned above. "Why? WHY??? It's SAUTERNES! Just SIP it!"

Point taken.

Perhaps we should expect such blasphemous usage from the makers of boxed chillable red: Franzia. But, no! The boxed wine came after the family sold the rights to the name, and started Bronco Wine Company. So, Franzia wasn't the cheap lowbrow butt of humor back then... at least not for using boxes; they did, however, use screw caps instead of corks. And why? Because a Franzia sister married into the Gallo family! The Franzia family history is well worth a read, and the next time you buy Two Buck Chuck (or, heck, Four Buck...) at Trader Joe's, remember: You've a Franzia to thank.

We're going to have fun learning about midcentury American wine making this week.

This Is Not A Beef Pancake Pie; Brew Your Own Kvass: Bread Beer

I was going to post Nothing Beets Borscht's recipe for Beef Pancake Pie (blinchaty pirog), but the blessed recipe is 6 pages long. Six. pages. long.
Suffice to say, you make 6 big crepes, a beef/rice/hard-boiled-egg mixture, and a mushroom/cream cheese mixture. Put down one crepe, butter it, put on beef mixture. Stack on another crepe, butter it, and put on some mushroom mixture. Repeat until you have one crepe left, and use that as the top. Put the thing in the oven to bake, until it's all hot and delicious, and slice like a layer cake.

There's also a Georgian sweet preparation -- blinchaty pirog s eezyoomom ee oryekhamy -- with a filling of walnuts, raisins, sugar, and honey. Quoth Miss Blanksteen: "It tastes like baklava, although it is entirely different."

So, since I'm not keen on typing 6 pages tonight, how's about we attack kvass, the essential ingredient in okroshka, the cold beer soup we looked at yesterday.

Bread Beer
(Kvass)

Kvass is a nonalcoholic bread beer. It is made from leftover bread crumbs and stored in barrels kept in the cellar. In the Soviet Union, it is sold on the streets out of big tanks. A lady sits next to her tank and washes glasses as she serves people the kvass. One learns to forget hygiene as the lady hands you a grubby-looking glass filled with ice-cold kvass. It has a slightly sweet mint taste, and the natuarl carbonation from the yeast. I love the stuff.

Kvass is used not only as a beverage. It formst the base of an excellent soup, okroshka [page 72], and it is use for cooking boujenina [page 67], a braised fresh ham.

The following is Gorky's grandmother's advice on kvass making:

If you want good kvass, then you must insult it, make it angry. Kvass can't stand sweet things so throw in a few raisins, or some sugar -- a small teaspoon to a bucket will do.
-- Gorky, My Childhood

1 pound black bread, dark rye, or pumpernickel (For heaven's sake, don't make the bread; buy an old junky loaf!)
16 cups water
2 packets dry yeast or 1 ounce compressed yeast
1/4 cup lukewarm water
1 1/2 cups sugar
2 tablespoons fresh mint leaves or 1 tablesppon dried mint
2 tablespoons raisins

Equipment:
A sieve and a piece of cheesecloth
Bottles -- about 3 of the 1-quart size

Bake the bread at 200° F. until it is dried out; slice it first to speed up the process. Then chop it coarsely and put it into a huge bowl or pot.

Bring the 16 cups of water to a boil (that's 4 quarts), and pour it over the bread. Mash it around with a spoon to make sure that all the bread is getting soaked.

Cover loosely with a towel and leave in a warm, draft-free place for at least 8 hours.

When the 8 hours are up, take out another large bowl or some type of vessel. Set a sieve over it. First pan the liquid, if any, off the top of the bread. Then start spooning the wet bread into the sieve, squish it thoroughly with the back of a spoon so that all the juice -- or a lot of the juice -- drips through. Do only a little bit of bread pulp at a time, so you get as much juice as possible. The squeezed-out bread will still be wet and mushy. Don't worry about it, there's a limit to how long you can squeeze the stuff: just throw it away.

When you have extracted all the bread juice you can, sprinkle the yeast over 1/4 cup lukewarm water, add 1/2 teaspoon of the sugar, mix, and then set in a warm, draft-free spot to foam and froth for 10 minutes.

When the yeast has doubled in bulk, mix the yeast into the bread juice. Add the chopped or crumbled mint. Cover the pot or bowl with a towel, and set in a warm, draft-free place for at least 8 hours.

When your 8 hours or so are up, line a sieve with a piece of cheesecloth. Strain the bread juice again, into a big bowl or pot. Using a funnel, pour the strained juice into bottles, filling each one two-thirds full. Divide the raisins amongst the bottles, and drop them in. to get the kvass good and angry.

Cover with a piece of plastic wrap or a towel, and let sit in a cool place, but not a refrigerator. A wine cellar will do, or the basement of a house. It should sit for 3 to 5 days, until the raisins have floated to the top of the bottle, and the sediment has sunk to the bottom.

Pour the clear golden liquid into other clean bottles, taking care to leave the sediment behind. (The raisins don't have to be left behind -- it's up to you, although I've never found a raisin in a glass of kvass).

Keep the kvass refrigerated for at least 2 days, until all the sediment has sunk to the bottom.

To serve: Pour the cold kvass through a cheesecloth-lined strainer into a pitcher.

You know, I think if I knew of a high school student who was making her own beer in her spare time? I'd be somewhat obligated to report it. That being said, this sounds much more appetizing that the stuff we used to do with grapes and sugar during Talented and Gifted camp at the University of Oregon...

Don't believe Miss Blanksteen when she says kvass is "non-alcoholic." It's low in alcohol, but it does, in fact, have alcohol. As long as you're okay with that, you're fine going forward.

One thing that stands out in this 1970s cookbook is that it takes the time to interpret and define standard measurements. So, "16 cups" is also listed at "4 quarts." Odd that they don't just say "1 gallon," but hey. In case you didn't know it before, 16 cups = 8 pints = 4 quarts = 1 gallon. Handy-dandy conversion, just for you.

A Very Nearly Tea

One of the things I love about The Pooh Cook Book is the variations -- several recipes will be done two or more ways, to suit particular (or even picky) kids' tastes. Case in point, a warm and soothing beverage, kid-friendly because there's not a speck of caffeine:

A Very Nearly Tea

One 4-cup earthenware teapot

I
5-6 carrot tops, feathery leaves
Orange honey
   or
Honey with a few drops of orange juice
   or
Honey and a small piece of fresh or dried orange peel

II
5-6 sprigs of parsley
Lemon honey
   or
Honey and a slice of lemon
   or
Honey and a piece of lemon peel

Fill a 4-cup earthenware teapot with hot water and set it on an asbestos pad to warm.

Fill the tea kettle with cold water and bring to a boil.

Wash the carrot tops or parsley.

When the teapot is warm, spill out the water and fill the teapot with carrot tops or parsley. Twist them so that they are thickest at the bottom of the teapot.

Pour boiling water onto the carrot tops or parsley and fill the teapot.

Let it steep for at least 20 minutes.

For carrot-top tea, put orange honey in a teacup before pouring in the carrot-top tea.

For parsley tea, put lemon honey in the teacup.

Serve with lightly buttered curls of Fairy Toast.

Christopher Robin was at home by this time ... and he was so glad to see them that they stayed there until very nearly tea-time, and then they had a Very Nearly tea, which is one you forget about afterwards ...
-- The House at Pooh Corner

It just sounds... homey. I like thinking of this tea, though, especially for young gardeners. I never used my carrot tops for anything -- the Lawrie family let me plant a row or two of vegetables. The only tops I was fond of were beet tops -- loved the greens, hated the roots. Ah, youth.

Fairy Toast is the recipe on the next page, and basically involves shaving thin parings of bread off a stale loaf and toasting them in the oven on a baking sheet until brown and lovely.

The mention of an asbestos pad tickles me -- I can't imagine recommending someone use asbestos, and doubt that the asbestos content was actually necessary here. So, let's recommend an equipment switch here, and use a trivet, or a hot pad, or something protective.

The Savannah Cook Book, by Harriet Ross Colquitt: Chatham Artillery Punch

The New Georgia Encyclopedia says this about The Savannah Cook Book, by Harriet Ross Colquitt:

Harriet Ross Colquitt was the author of The Savannah Cookbook, a more colorful and quirky collection of recipes, chock full of such coastal standards as mulatto rice (a composed rice dish with tomatoes) and Chatham Artillery Punch (a kitchen-sink conglomeration of, among other liquors, brandy, gin, rye, and rum). Published in 1933, the book boasts a foreword by poet Ogden Nash wherein he proclaims, "Everybody has the right to think whose food is the most gorgeous / And I nominate Georgia's."

This is accurate. It misses some of what I find to be the defining characteristics of this book, however. It's, well, a product of its time -- 1933 -- and the yearnings of the time, as well. So, here's a glimpse back to the good ol' days, and those who were, in turn, glimpsing back to the good ol' days.

From the Foreword:

But we have had so many requests for receipts for rice dishes, and for shrimp and crab concoctions which are peculiar to our locality, that I have concentrated on those indigenous to our soil, as it were, begging them from housekeepers, and trying to tack our elusive cooks down to some definite idea of what goes into the making of the good dishes they turn out.

But getting directions from colored cooks is rather like trying to write down the music to the spirituals which they sing -- for all good old-timers (and new-timers, too, for that matter) cook "by ear", and it is hard to bring them down to earth when they begin to improvise. They are not only very bad on detail,¹ with their vague suggestions of "a little of dis and a little of dat", but they are extremely modest about their accomplishments...

---

¹ "How long do you cook your okra?" I asked a colored cook, to which she replied that she put it on when she did the rice. Knowing that the rice should cook about twenty minutes before steaming, I thought I would find out by this devious method, so inquired "How long do you steam your rice?" "'Til dinner's ready," responded this wizard of the kitchen, and left me just where I was when I started.

...yeah. Let it be said that at least one of the things I find disturbing in that is the placement of the commas after the quotation marks... I am many things, but a grammar girl is one of 'em.

But, let's get back to the more pleasant things in this cookbook... the aforementioned Chatham Artillery punch.

Chatham Artillery Punch

1 1/2 gallons Catawba
1/2 gallon St. Croix rum
1 quart Gordon gin
1 quart Hennessy brandy
1/2 pint Benedictine
1 1/2 quarts rye whiskey
1 1/2 gallons strong tea
2 1/2 pounds brown sugar
juice 1 1/2 dozen oranges
juice 1 1/2 dozen lemons
1 bottle maraschino cherries

Make stock with above from thirty-six to forty-eight hours before time for using. Add one case of champagne when ready to serve.

I assume they mean wine made from Catawba, but they might mean juice... either way, Concord grape wine/juice can stand in.