Keith Stavely and Kathleen Fitzgerald

NINETEENTH-CENTURY APPLE PIE

This lightly sweetened, subtly spiced deep-dish apple pie is based on Lydia Maria Child's "Apple Pie," in The American Frugal Housewife (1833). Child's original recipe, with commentary, can be found in Keith Stavely and Kathleen Fitzgerald's Northern Hospitality: Cooking by the Book in New England (University of Massachusetts Press, 2011), p. 313.

MAKES ONE NINE-INCH PIE

8 SERVINGS

Preheat oven to 400°F.

Crust:

2 9-inch pie crusts, homemade or store bought

Filling:
10 cups tart apples, peeled, cored, and sliced (Macouns or Cortlands are nice apples for this pie; they can be found at farmers' markets and grocery stores in New England and elsewhere in the fall, though any tart baking apple, such as the Granny Smith, will work well.)
2 tablespoons sugar (or less, if you prefer a tart flavor or your apples are on the sweet side)
1⁄4 teaspoon ground cloves
1⁄2-3⁄4 teaspoon ground cinnamon

2 tablespoons rosewater, optional (A small amount of culinary rosewater, a traditional New England ingredient, adds a mild earthy flavor and a light floral scent to the pie; it can be found in some Indian and South Asian grocery stores, and online.)
1 teaspoon grated lemon peel

1⁄2 teaspoon lemon juice
1⁄4 teaspoon salt

Egg Wash:
1 egg yolk
2 tablespoons water

1 tablespoon butter, preferrably unsalted

Note: This large pie requires a deep-dish pie plate or tin.

Line a pie plate with one of the unbaked crusts, line the crust with parchment paper or aluminium foil, reaching up the sides of the crust, and fill with pie weights, dried beans, or rice. Bake for 10-15 minutes in a fully preheated 400°F oven.. Remove the crust from the oven, lift out the lining, prick the bottom of the crust, and cool it on a wire rack.

Increase the oven temperature to 425°F. Mix the sugar and spices into the apple slices. In a saucepan, cook the apple slices, stirring often, until they are just beginning to soften but still retain their shape. Add the rosewater, lemon peel, lemon juice and salt.

Fill the bottom crust with the cooked apple mixture and dot with the tablespoon of butter. Put on the top crust, carefully crimping both crusts together.

Place the pie on a baking sheet and bake for 10 minutes Reduce the oven heat to 350°F and bake for an additional 50 minutes. As the pie bakes, mix together the egg wash.

Remove the pie from the oven, brush the top crust with the egg wash, and bake for an additional 5- 10 minutes, until the crust is golden.

Cool the pie on a wire rack. Serve warm or at room temperature.

We've been busy preparing for several upcoming events, as well as working on a book proposal. We also have an article in the works for the British food journal Petits Propos Culinaires, a follow-up to the piece we did on the previously unknown identities of three nineteenth-century women cookbook authors (A Book of One's Own, PPC 131). The new article will likely appear in PPC, Summer 2026. As a result, we haven't been able to produce new cooking posts for our blog recently. We hope to do so soon! In the meantime, take a look at our Events page. If you'll be near Fairfiled, Ct., home of the Fairfield Museum and History Center, on Sunday, November 23, 2025, we think you'd enjoy our slide/talk "A Taste of a New England Tavern," which will include samples of a historic dish.

The Oyster: Best Actor, Best Supporting Actor

In a previous post on Lydia Maria Child's "Escaloped Oysters," the oyster had the featured role. But the oyster has also performed admirably in historic New England cuisine in supporting parts. This time we offer oysters in such a supporting role with a recipe from Amelia Simmons and her cookbook, American Cookery, that's considered the first American cookbook. 
 
In the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, huge numbers of oysters could be included in huge numbers of recipes because there were still huge numbers of oysters ready to be harvested from marine reefs. Oysters—lots of them—formed the basis of pies and ketchups (yes, oyster ketchup!), were added to chowders, pancakes, and omelets, and were even cooked with macaroni. But the type of food with which the oyster was most frequently paired was fowl, of every species—snipe, duck, turkey, chicken. Simmons's versatile 1796 recipe for fowl "smothered" in oysters is designed for either turkey or chicken. Read More 

It simply can't be that a year has passed since we last posted to our Cooking (and Contemplating) New England blog! We've been cooking up a storm, mind you, just not blogging about it. We're at work on a cookbook--a collection of historic recipes that we've made at home--which leaves little time for blogging, or much else. But our blog tells us it feels neglected . . . so here's something we made recently and just love. We hope this keeps our blog readers happy (and thank you, dear readers) until we can devote more time to this medium!

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In New England, as in Old England, creams and custard pies were perennial favorites. Creams, sweetened pudding-like mixtures, have pretty much fallen out of fashion now, though we still think they're quite delicious. But why was cooked cream and custard, with or without pie crust, once so popular?
 
The answer involves the health concerns of early modern diners as much as taste preferences. In a time before pasteurization, many feared that consuming raw milk or cream would lead to sickness, or worse. Andrew Boorde, the sixteenth-century English physician most famous for writing one of the earliest handbooks of medicine, The Breviary of Health, and a companion cooking and health advice volume, A Compendious Regiment or Dyetary of Health (both first published in the 1540s), related that "raw cream undecocted, eaten with strawberries or hurts [bilberries or blueberries], is a rural man's banquet. I have known such banquets hath put men in jeopardy of their lives."[1] His and like sentiments would make cooked creams and custards the norm for centuries among the well-informed.

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Many cultures engage in some form of traditional eating on New Year's Day. The idea is that eating lucky things, or one particular time-honored dish, will bring good fortune in the coming year. 

This coming year, more than ever, the world needs some good luck. That's why we're posting our version of a New Year's Pie, based on Mrs. Bliss's 1850 recipe for "A New Year's Pie." The original recipe is reproduced, with commentary, in our book Northern Hospitality, p. 261.  Read More 

Having spent many happy hours sleuthing the sources of historic recipes, we were interested to read Priya Krishna's "Who Owns a Recipe? A Plagiarism Claim Has Cookbook Authors Asking" in the New York Times recently. The story covers many aspects of this currently controversial issue. But as with much food journalism, it truncates the historical dimension of the subject. "Recipe plagiarism has been around since the first American cookbooks" reads the caption to a picture in the article of renowned bookseller Bonnie Slotnick.

Well, plagiarism in English-language cookbooks has been around a lot longer than Simmons and American Cookery. Like so many aspects of American culinary culture, even this nefarious practice was imported from elsewhere. Read More 

As we emphasized in earlier posts on the evolution of Rye and Indian (aka Ryaninjun) bread into Boston Brown Bread, New Englanders from the first years of settlement wished to eat bread made primarily of wheat. (See the first post in the series, Growing Grains and Ingrained Ideas, for an explanation of these corn-related terms and how we're using them.) For centuries, though, this goal was unattainable for most. Wheat did not grow well in the region's rocky soil and what did grow was susceptible to a killing fungus known as "the blast." Imported from the mid-Atlantic colonies, it was an expensive luxury which only the wealthy could consume on a regular basis. The Connecticut River Valley, with rich alluvial soil suited to wheat growing, was the one area in New England where wheat was plentiful. But things changed with the opening of the Erie Canal in 1825. Wheat imports from farming regions to the west became more plentiful and cheaper. Later in the century, mechanized milling further reduced the cost of wheat, though some began to complain that industrial-milled wheat, shorn of its germ and bran, was tasteless. It was certainly less nutritious. Read More 

If you grew up in or around Boston in the 1950s and '60s, as one of us did, then at one time or another you undoubtedly ate Brown Bread (aka Boston Brown Bread) from a can. Despite the word "brown" in its name, this was not some kind of before-its-time fresh-baked, super healthy bread. No, indeed. We're talking about a mass-produced, steamed, and highly sweetened loaf, sold—yup—in cans. True enough, even the canned variety was, and still is, made with whole grains—cornmeal, rye flour, and whole wheat flour—but its high molasses content will give you in just a single ½ inch slice almost a quarter of your daily recommended dose of sugar. The particular bread we're talking about is made by the B&M (Burnham and Morrill) company of Portland, Maine. There are few truly regional foods left in New England, but these cans of steamed Brown Bread certainly count as one of them, given their one-time ubiquity in the region and the vivid memories many people have of eating warm slices of B&M Brown Bread as children.
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With the opening of the Erie Canal in 1825, New England became more plentifully supplied with wheat grown farther west, and people were at last able to partake regularly of the "good white and wheaten bread" that had always been their preference. Yet recipes for Ryaninjun bread, made with rye and cornmeal but little or no wheat, continued to appear in New England cookbooks. How come? (See the first post in this series, Growing Grains and Ingrained Ideas, for an explanation of "Ryaninjun" and other corn-related terms and how we're using them.) Read More