The First American Cookbook

Ariel Braun '12

Food for Thought Seminar, Fall 2008

Before 1796, Americans relied almost exclusively on Britain for cookbooks.  A cookbook, to the people of the 18th century, was more of a manual for daily life. Usually written about farming practices and maintenance of the home, the cookbook was a how-to-guide for wives and was not sought after as a recipe glossary. Cookbooks imported from Europe to America were not actively sought after by American wives, for the cookbooks lacked recipes using indigenous produce and were more preoccupied with manners and style than with the explanation of food and its preparation. America women wanted actual recipes and didn't want to deal with the problem of not having on hand the same supplies as their European counterparts.

In 1796, in Hartford, Connecticut, Amelia Simmons released her American Cookery, or the Art of Dressing viands, fish, poultry and vegetables, and the best modes of making pastes, puffs, pies, tarts, puddings, custards and preserves, and all kinds of cakes, from the imperial plumb to plain cake. Adapted to this country, and all grades of life. As the length of the title suggests, this was America's first cookbook, published solely for the audience of America. As Simmons explains in the Preface, the book was written for all citizens but, mainly for those women who had no training in the arts of food preparation and who had the desire to be respectable, good wives, "A treatise…for the improvement of the rising generation of Females in America…" (Simmons 3). Simmons' cookbook catered specifically to American readers by using produce and types of meat that women could easily raise and were accustomed to.

Some such ingredients that were native to America and had yet to be included in a European cookbook were corn, squash, and Jerusalem artichoke. Corn (which is currently being grown in our own "1812 Garden"), especially, would become a staple of the American diet. Three recipes are included in American Cookery that use the starch: Johny Cakes, Indian Slapjack, and Loaf Cakes. Similarly, squash and artichoke recipes are found among the pages of the cookbook and further add to the American "feel" of the book. The Jerusalem artichoke in fact, is native to North America and wasn't brought to Europe until later in the next century by way of Canada. The artichoke was cultivated primarily in the east from Maine to North Dakota. In addition to using native produce, Simmons also wrote in a highly American vernacular. For example, rather than use “treacle” to make cookies, Simmons instead uses “molasses”; both words essentially meaning heavy syrup. Similarly, “koekje” for the Dutch, became cookie for the American Simmons.

One particular recipe that interests food historians and myself is the recipe for "Molasses gingerbread". Not only does the recipe utilize the American molasses, the recipe also includes the addition of pearlash. Though not a Simmons invention, pearlash was the American innovation of a chemical leaven. Rather than using yeast to add airiness and lightness to breads and cakes, pearlash was a root that would eventually become baking soda to modern day chefs.  The gingerbread cookie, as is known by Americans today, did not develop its thick, coarse, crumbily texture until the introduction of pearlash, which was first mentioned in of Simmons’ cookbook. In fact, our region of up-state New York (specifically the Albany area) was known at the end of the 19th century for growing amounts of the leavening root.

The actual layout and structure of the book is quite different in comparison to our modern cookbooks. Simmons first explains the different types of beef, fish, vegetables, poultry, and fruit that are available to American consumers and how to best to buy or grow these products. In addition, Simmons may give a simple description on how generally best to prepare the foodstuff. For example, carrots, "…are good with veal cookery, rich in soups, excellent with hash…" After the foodstuff is explained the recipes follow. The recipes themselves are not always straightforward. While the puddings, creams, pies and sweets are more precise with measurements, the meat recipes do not always contain specific cooking time or provide specific measurements.

The cookbook itself attempts to be as straightforward as possible (as promised by Simmons in her preface). The directions are clearly laid out, sometimes in the absence of specifics, while more precise directions tend to be given in parenthesis. Simmons does not give oven temperatures for baking nor does she accept the then available thermometer for checking meats; instead relying on the fork-test for doneness. However, food aesthetics are taken into account, for example, the mention to garnish mutton.

Essentially, Simmons' cookbook set the precedent for all future American cookbooks that stressed simplicity, native produce, and creative innovation.  American women of the period flooded Simmons with letters and enthusiasm. The first edition of the book sold quickly.

In honor of Simmons’ contribution to American epicurean innovation, I attempted to replicate one of Simmons more direct recipes. I chose to prepare Simmons’ Bread Pudding, since the recipe seemed simple enough for general directions, but did allow for some experimentation. In addition, the recipe utilized the American pearlash, which I discovered was not produced any longer in the United States. I substituted the agent with potato starch and proceeded.  Having already made present-day bread pudding, I thought that this recipe would be a piece of cake (or bread as it were). The recipe called for one pound of "soft bread" and I decided that my best option would be a standard country, white bread.  To mimic colonial bread, I purloined a loaf of white bread from Commons dining hall and deemed it “traditional”.

The next part of the recipe was straight forward enough. Though the recipe didn't state it, I let the bread sit out on my desk for two days, so that it would become stale and better soak up some of the milk that was to be poured over it. Again, with no explicit instructions, I cut the bread into half-inch cubes and covered with the quart of milk. From previous experience, I knew to let the milk soak into the bread for at least twenty-four hours and left the bread to do its work.

The next day, I put the bread through a "cullender" and ladled the sodden pieces into a terracotta baking dish. Before proceeding, instinct told me to look at the following ingredients to possibly ascertain what the final product would be. The seven eggs, three-quarter pound of sugar, one-quarter pound of butter, one pound of raisins, and half a pint of cream seemed far too much for the modest pound of bread; not to mention the fact that my kitchen was not equipped with the amount of necessary items or that I had no way to measure a pound of any ingredient. Putting aside the cookbook for a moment, I decided to replace cup in the recipe for pound. Thinking it would be much more manageable; I began measuring, and only added three eggs and not the required seven. I threw in some nutmeg and cinnamon and the potato starch and stirred the whole concoction together. Even with the smaller measurements, the bread was nowhere to be seen among the yellow liquid.

Since no oven temperature was given, I settled on 375 degrees and placed the pan in the oven for the directed forty-five minutes. Twenty minutes in, the pudding looked nowhere close to finished. The liquid had not congealed. Forty-five minutes later and the product was the same. Becoming quite impatient and frustrated, I raised the oven temperature to 425 degrees and came back thirty minutes later to find a slightly better state. Though all the liquid had not been completely absorbed, the potato starch had begun to do its work and had thickened the egg-milk mixture. Thinking that this was the closest I was going to get to a bread pudding and not bread soup, I removed the pan from the oven and discarded the excess liquid.

I let the pudding cool in the fridge and gathered a few of my friends for a taste. Least to say, it was a good thing that I had cut the recipe. The bread was soggy and leaked of excess milk. A pool of liquid could be found at the bottom of the pan with the bread sitting on top, without the traditional browning that accompanies my own bread pudding.  Besides the texture, the pudding had minimal flavor, if only for the occasional raisin. I hit myself for not adding vanilla because I remembered that eggs produced in the 18th century were so flavorful that recipes need not have included any extract of sorts.

All in all, the pudding was not a success and while there may be leftovers for many months in my fridge, it was an interesting experience adapting Simmons recipe and trying by any means to produce a pudding that was somewhat edible. I would like to think that Simmons end result was nowhere near mine; if not hundreds of thousands of buyers of Simmons cookbook would have been quite disappointed.