Strawberry Dandy

I started investigating fruit shrubs this weekend—no, not currant bushes, though I am in the midst of executing a new garden project that I hope will be photo-ready soon. No, what I'm talking about is a sweet, vinegared fruit syrup—a trend on which I am way  behind. In investigating the mix, I found that refreshing drinks using shrubs date back to colonial days. Though I couldn't personally verify this claim, I did find an 1890 recipe for “Raspberry Shrub or Vinegar” here  that seems to be pretty much the same idea.

Many modern bartenders are apparently now turning to the shrub as inspiration for cocktails—and I decided to follow suit with an invention of my own! What follows is a recipe for a Strawberry Dandy, a cocktail that would be perfect for a summer garden party or a Sunday brunch.

Strawberry Dandy

1 part strawberry shrub syrup

2 parts Dubonnet Rouge

2 parts seltzer, chilled

Ice

Combine strawberry shrub and Dubonnet Rouge in a cocktail shaker with ice and shake vigorously. Pour into a glass and top with seltzer.

For strawberry shrub:

1 teacup of water

1 teacup of sugar

1 teacup of roughly chopped strawberries (I used some pretty sketchy ones from the back of the refrigerator)

1 sprig of fresh lavender (this is a completely unnecessary grace note)

½ teacup of white vinegar

To anticipate objections, it doesn't matter how big your teacup is, as long as you use the same teacup for all measurements. Stir together water and sugar over a low flame to create a simple syrup. Add chopped strawberries and smash roughly to release juices. Simmer for approximately five minutes, then allow to “steep” for fifteen to thirty minutes more. Strain the syrup and discard (or devour) solids. Pour into a jar with lavender sprig and vinegar. This will keep in your refrigerator for about a week.

Outstanding and Outdated: The Posset

A seventeenth century posset pot from the Victoria and Albert

Outstanding and Outdated is a series in which I take a look at historical recipes, particularly drinks, that have fallen out of favor.  Today, I want to consider the posset.

The posset has a long and rich history from medieval times up until the present.  Lady Macbeth famously drugged the possets of the grooms in Macbeth.  In 1638, John Taylor records a story of servants who, making a posset while their employers slept, heard someone coming down the stairs, whereat "one of them took the Bason with the hot Posset, and (to hide it) laid it upon the seat in the House of office, Master Gent suspecting no harme, went thither in the darke, and set himselfe in the Posset, which hee found so scalding, that hee cried out Helpe, helpe, the devil's in the Privie: thus was the Servants deceiv'd, the Good-man scar'd and scalded, and the Posset most unluckily spoyl'd and defil'd."  Clearly the last consequence is the most serious.

But what is a posset?  In practice, it is a kind of spiced hot milk with alcohol.  The first Earl of Carlisle's sack-posset, recorded in 1671, called for sack (which is a dry wine of the sherry family), cream, spices, and a great many eggs, which presumably made the drink very custardy.

Another method of thickening the posset is oatmeal, used particularly in Scotland.  Using this method, the milk is boiled with oatmeal, then strained.  I have used this method myself and found it very effective.  Breadcrumbs may also be used for this purpose.

The kind of alcohol used in a posset is really up to the user.  Wine, ale, and spirits have all been used to concoct possets.  Brandy, whiskey, sherry, or stout are all excellent options, and stout in particular creates a thick, creamy posset with a lot of body.

The posset is generally both sweetened (either with sugar or honey) and spiced with nutmeg, cinnamon, mace, or any combination thereof.

The recipe below is one that I have refined by trial and error.  It will be very foamy; the foam is called the "grace" and may be eaten with a spoon.

Sophie's Posset Cup

Serves two not particularly greedy people

1 c. milk
1 heaped tablespoon rolled oats
1/8 tsp. nutmeg
2 Tbsp. honey
1/2 c. Guiness or similar

In a small saucepan, simmer together the milk, oats and nutmeg until the oatmeal is soft and well-cooked.  Using a fine strainer, separate the liquid and solids, pressing well on the oatmeal with a spoon to extract all liquid.  Stir in honey and add Guinness.

Outstanding and Outdated: Beef Tea

1900 Bovril advertisement, per the Victoria and Albert Museum

This post represents what I hope will be an ongoing series called Outstanding and Outdated, an idiosyncratic history of drinks. Please feel free to suggest drinks you'd like to hear about!

Upon eating some delicious beef stew tonight, I was recalled to some experiments I had once made in preparing beef tea. The ubiquitous Victorian food of invalids had long piqued my curiosity. So I bravely took lots of beef and double-boiled it and found it fairly bland and uninspiring.

In terms of cook books, beef tea seems to first appear in 1861's Book of Household Management. There Mrs. Beeton explains that the tea is “to be administered to those invalid to whom flavoring and seasonings are not allowed” (unlucky people!).

In 1870, Napoleon III ordered beef to feed his troops, and a Scotsman created Johnston's Fluid Beef, later called Bovril. This was and is the most popular commercial beef tea in production and it remains an iconic part of British culinary heritage today.

The New York Times in 1880 apparently had so many inquiries that related to beef tea that they decided to devote a special column to the matter. There we read that beef tea is entirely composed of gelatine and that humans cannot derive sustenance from gelatine. The author instead recommended taking some commercial beef tea and then adding to it meat and water to make...homemade beef tea.

Beef tea, which is nowadays pretty much exclusively Bovril, has strong associations with British football culture, as a beverage for fans to enjoy on a cold morning in the stands. It has mainly lost its early associations with invalidism and is nowadays made at home only by anachronistic food enthusiasts like myself.

You can find Mrs Beeton's recipe here.