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Authors: Rae Katherine Eighmey

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BOOK: Abraham Lincoln in the Kitchen
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I felt confident that Miss Leslie's 1828 recipe was the right gingerbread to test, but I was still struggling with the best way to make the gingerbread men. I was familiar with two kinds of nineteenth-century gingerbread, what cookbooks sometimes labeled
“hard” and “soft.” Hard gingerbread is the kind you get in Colonial Williamsburg, rather flat and baked on a sheet like a cookie. That's a fine process for a settled community with large brick ovens to put baking sheets into. But I didn't think the frontier
Lincoln cabin would have had a brick oven for the first struggling years. I was skeptical, as well, that Nancy would have had a tin cookie cutter. I also figured she might not have taken the time to cut around the shape with a knife.

Nancy would certainly have had the essentials of cast-iron
cooking equipment—in addition to a regular frying pan, she would have had a
“spider,” which was a frying pan that had legs so it could stand over
hearth coals. She would have stewed meats or vegetables and baked bread, cake, or pies in a
Dutch oven. This covered pot may also have had legs. Its cover has a raised rim to hold hot coals in place on top of the pot so foods cook surrounded by heat.
Pioneer cooks rarely had
reflector ovens, where the foods rested on a rack facing the fire. Mostly used for roasting meats, a polished piece of metal curved around the back of this rack, reflecting and concentrating the fire's heat on both sides of the cooking food.

Soft gingerbread is cake-like and could be baked easily in a Dutch oven or on the hearth. But how would Nancy make a man from that more liquid batter for hearth baking? Would she have carefully poured the batter into a frying pan, drizzling it off a spoon to form arms, legs, body, and head for a pancake-like version?

Lincoln's description of how his friend ate the gingerbread men provided more clues. These gingerbread men had to have the strength to hold their shape while Abraham carried them to where he could sit under the tree, and they had to be soft enough so his friend could cram one “into his mouth in two bites.” I felt like the Three Bears—the pancake version was too soft, the hard gingerbread too tough. Once again, Miss Leslie
had an answer that was just right. Her directions for common gingerbread suggested that it was somewhere between the soft cake and the hard gingerbread man cookie. It is a deceptively simple solution for the frontier or modern kitchen. “Put some flour on your paste-board, take out small portions of the dough, and make it with your hand into long rolls. Then curl up the rolls into round cakes or twist two together or lay them into straight lengths or sticks side by side.”

Or make them into men!

I found this dough as easy to work as children's clay. It was very simple to form into men three or four inches high. Perfect for pocket, hands, and mouth. The method Miss Leslie specified for mixing the dough was unexpected as well. Rather than creaming the butter and sugar together, she tells us to cut the butter into the dry ingredients. This is just like making piecrust or biscuits. The flour surrounds the small pieces of cold butter, and, as the food bakes, the melting butter forms a pocket, producing a flaky crust, biscuit, or gingerbread. Simply perfect for baking in a
reflector oven,
Dutch oven, or even a skillet with a lid to hold in the heat.

I think this approach is about as close as we can get to Lincoln's
gingerbread men. This recipe fits his description of a gingerbread man sturdy enough to stuff into a pocket and soft enough to gobble up in a couple of bites.

As delicious as this gingerbread is, it still is a bit understated for the kinds of desserts we're used to. I wondered how it stacked up to other typical treats of the era and the region. I found a recipe for a more rustic cake I've taken to calling “
Tennessee Cake,” as the recipe appeared in
Tennessee Farmer
in 1835. It relies on farm products even more than a gingerbread recipe does, with brown sugar as the only purchased ingredient. Eggs, butter, flour, and cornmeal combine with that bit of brown sugar for a cake that tastes best with a sauce. Once you taste the two of them, it is easy to see why Lincoln's gingerbread would make a lasting impression on flavor alone.

GINGERBREAD MEN

 

Discover the delicate, mellow taste of
sorghum. You'll find the
recipe has just enough sweetness to complement the ginger. This easy recipe is perfect for a delightful afternoon of parent-child baking
.

SORGHUM SYRUP:
The amazing sorghum plant looks like corn, but without the ears. A native of China and Africa, sorghum or “broom corn” may have been first brought to the United States by Benjamin Franklin in 1757 for, well, making brooms. Nearly fifty years later, John Skinner described the plant's productivity in the July 2, 1824, issue of
American Farmer
. “Cultivated in almost every part of the United States … the seeds are made into nutritious flour for feeding people and pigs.… The stalks are crushed to produce a delightful syrup.”

A decade before the Civil War, a newer variety of sweet sorghum, “Chinese Amber,” was introduced into the United States with the hopes of reducing the nation's reliance on imported cane
sugar. Sorghum syrup production peaked in the 1880s and declined in the twentieth century in the face of competition from cheaper, less labor-intensive sweeteners. Sorghum syrup tastes like fruity honey with a touch of
molasses. Pour sorghum syrup over pancakes and waffles; use it to sweeten baked beans or to replace honey in favorite baked goods. You can usually find a few bottles tucked in among the molasses, corn, and maple
syrups in grocery stores.

½ cup milk

½ cup sorghum syrup or light or dark molasses

3 ⅓ cups unbleached all-purpose flour

2 tablespoons packed brown sugar

½ teaspoon baking soda

1 tablespoon ground ginger

½ cup (1 stick) cold salted butter

Preheat the oven to 325°F. Lightly grease 2 baking sheets. Pour the milk into a glass measuring cup. Add the sorghum syrup and stir the two together. In a mixing bowl, combine flour, brown sugar, baking soda, and ginger. Slice the butter into small pieces and cut into the flour mixture with a pastry cutter or 2 knives until the mixture looks like coarse cornmeal. Add the milk-and-sorghum mixture and stir well with a fork or spoon.

To make gingerbread men about 4 inches high, break off a piece of dough a little larger than a golf ball. Place it on the work surface and roll it lightly under your palms to form a pencil-thin rope of dough about 12 inches long. Break off a 4-inch-long piece and set aside; this will become the arms. Fold the remaining rope in half to form a narrow, upside-down
V
. Grasp at the folded top, pinch together 1 inch down from the top and twist, forming the head and neck. Place the arm piece across the back under the neck. Gently press to secure. Place on the prepared baking sheet. Repeat these steps with the remaining dough.

Bake until the cookies are lightly browned, about 15 to 20 minutes. Watch closely as the sorghum or molasses in the dough tends to burn quickly.

Makes about 18 gingerbread men

ADAPTED FROM “COMMON GINGERBREAD,” MISS ELIZA LESLIE,
SEVENTY-FIVE RECEIPTS FOR PASTRY, CAKES, AND SWEETMEATS
, 1828.

TENNESSEE CAKE

 

Wheat was a rare crop in pioneer days because it was harder to grow than corn, a grain that provided food for people and farm animals. This lovely yellow cake stretched precious wheat flour with twice the amount of
cornmeal
.

4 large eggs, separated

4 tablespoons (½ stick) salted butter, at room temperature

½ cup packed brown sugar

½ cup unbleached all-purpose flour

½ cup coarse cornmeal, preferably stone-ground

½ cup regular cornmeal

Vinegar Sauce

Preheat the oven to 350°F. Grease and flour a 7 × 11–inch baking pan. In a large mixing bowl, using grease-free beaters, beat the egg whites until they form stiff peaks; set aside.

In a medium mixing bowl, cream the butter and brown sugar. Add the egg yolks and mix well. Combine the flour and cornmeals, then add to butter-and-sugar mixture. Gently fold one-quarter of the beaten egg whites into the batter to lighten it, then fold in the remaining beaten egg whites.

Pour the batter into the prepared pan. Bake for 20 to 25 minutes or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Let cool. Cut into squares and serve with vinegar sauce.

Makes 14 servings

ADAPTED FROM “CAKE,”
TENNESSEE FARMER
, MARCH 1835.

VINEGAR SAUCE

 

Sauces were common in the nineteenth century to serve over typically firm, slightly dry cakes or with boiled or baked puddings. This thin sauce tastes like lemons, but is made from easily available pioneer ingredients
.

¾ cup sugar

2 teaspoons flour

1 ½ cups water

1 tablespoon cider vinegar

1 tablespoon butter

¼ teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg

In a small saucepan, whisk together the sugar and flour. Slowly add the water, whisking constantly. Bring to a boil and cook over medium heat for 10 minutes, stirring from time to time. Remove from the heat and stir in the vinegar, butter, and nutmeg. Let cool. Store in the refrigerator for up to 3 days.

Makes about 1 ¾ cups sauce, enough for fourteen 2-tablespoon servings

ADAPTED FROM “A VERY CHEAP SAUCE,” MRS. LETTICE BRYAN,
THE KENTUCKY HOUSEWIFE
, 1839.

LIFE ON THE
INDIANA FRONTIER

PAWPAWS, HONEY, AND PUMPKINS

BOOK: Abraham Lincoln in the Kitchen
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