Word Wenches

Happy New Year!

If you’re reading this after midnight—HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Wench Pat here, posting from on the road…

Since I’ll be traveling the last two weeks of December, I prepared this blog in advance. If I manage to reply on New Year’s Day, then you know I made it home safely!  I’m hoping the rest of the wenches will drop in for a mini-New Year’s Eve celebration and keep everyone entertained until I get home.  Or better yet, that all our readers are out having a wonderful time preparing to welcome in 2008.

Does everyone realize that January 1 as the start of the new year is an arbitrary date based on nothing except Julius Caesar’s impatience with the Roman senate’s political tendency to change the calendar to keep their seats? The Babylonians 4000 years  earlier were smart enough to start their year with the first visible crescent moon of the spring equinox, so they couldn’t misplace their dates.  Don’t know if that says something about the dangers of lead poisoning in Roman times or the overall decline of human intelligence which seems to continue even 2000 years later, when half civilization feared the millennium.

Anyway, the Babylonian festivities were probably the original pagan ceremony on which our celebrations are based today.  Theirs continued for eleven days afterward.  We seem to be spreading ours eleven days before, but then, we start our new year in winter, and that’s just all wrong.  (Or summer, for the bottom half of the world, and that’s even worse!)

The modern day calendar—the Julian calendar—began with Julius Caesar in 46 BC when the almighty emperor let the old year drag on for 445 days so he could straighten out the mess his earlier cronies had made.  At least he had the sense to synchronize it with the sun so they didn’t wander too far astray.  And he named January after the two-faced Roman god of doors and gates, Janus.  (Gee, and I wonder who he named the hottest month of the year after?) He celebrated his first Julian new year by killing revolutionary Jews in Galilee.  The rest of pagan Rome celebrated with drunken orgies. My, how things change over the centuries.

Druidic pagans adhered to the sun calendar and continued to celebrate their new year by exchanging gifts.  So of course, the Catholic Church did its best to yank the calendar back to their way of thinking and assigned March 25 as the new year to commemorate the anuciation of Jesus—our Easter--and condemned anyone who followed the pagan celebrations with gift exchanges or “superfluous” drinking.  Looks to me like we could spend half of winter celebrating the various holidays, not a half bad idea when trapped inside by ice and snow!

Anyway, by the early medieval era, the pagan holidays were gradually usurped by the church, and  Christian Europe called March 25 the start of their year.  And then along came William the Conqueror…

Good old William was crowned King of England on December 25, 1066, and he wanted the calendar adjusted so his coronation fell on the day celebrated as Jesus’ birthday.  So he decreed that the commemoration of Jesus’ circumcision, January 1, Julian time, would be the start of the new year. Again. I’m amazed some of these fearless leaders didn’t declare the sun revolved around them.

Of course, men die and the church doesn’t, so the new year reverted to church custom on March 25 in later decades—until Pope Gregory in 1582 decided the Romans had got their calculations wrong and every century was losing a day.  Once again, the calendar was advanced, this time by ten days in October of 1582, and a system of leap years was instituted to prevent the  problem from arising again. Being the scientific-minded fellow he was, the pope apparently also believed the Romans had a good thing going using January 1 as the new year and the circumcision of Jesus as a great reason to persecute Jews.  Tradition!

Of course, as we all know, England had a bit of a problem with the Catholic church about this time, and they declined the pope’s generous offer of a new calendar and old traditions.  England continued using the Julian calendar—until nearly two hundred years later with the Calendar Act of 1751.  On September 2, 1752, all of England went to sleep in one calendar and woke up on the European/Gregorian calendar day of September 13th.  Greece and Russia tarried a little longer, until the early twentieth century, as a matter of fact, before adopting the calendar the rest of Europe had been using for a few centuries.

Open-minded Leo that I am, I’m willing to celebrate the new year of all calendars, in any century, with any adjustment we’d like to make. I say let’s celebrate from now until Easter!

Oh, and those ancient Babylonians? They started the new year resolution thing, although their resolutions leaned more toward the “I resolve to give Capurnicus back his plow sometime this year” type of resolution.  I like that far better than “I resolve to lose ten pounds this year.”  So maybe my new year’s resolution will be: I resolve to give back those books I borrowed from Mary Jo.  Or if I’m really daring: I resolve to turn in that book I’ve been contracted to write.

Hmm, those resolutions still require work on my part. Anyone got any better ideas?

Wieners and Announcements!

And the wieners are: Louis won To Wed a Highland Bride by Sarah Gabriel. Keira Soleore won a book of her choice by Loretta Chase. Lesley Lanning won a Jo Beverley book of her choice from the following: Christmas Angel, Forbidden Magic, or Winter Fire.  Keira and Lesley, please let me or your respective Wench know your book choices, and we'll need mailing addresses for Louis and Lesley. If you want your book personalized, please include that information when you contact us. My e-mail is [email protected], and you can contact the Wenches directly by clicking on their picture on the left, which will take you to their Web site and contact information.

Congratulations to all of you for leaving comments and for winning books as a result.  Keep those comments coming, readers!  The next wiener may be you!

And now, some HOT news.

Romantic Times magazine has announced their 2007 Reviewers' Choice and Career Achievement finalists, and the Wenches made a downright impresssive showing.  Way to go, Wenches!

Reviewers Choice Nominations:
http://tinyurl.com/2pjeyx

Best Historical Paranormal:
Patricia Rice, Mary Jo Putney, Edith Layton

Historical Romance of the Year:
Jo Beverley, Loretta Chase

Career Achievement Nominations:
http://tinyurl.com/2b4lnw

Historical Romance:
Loretta Chase

Innovative Historical Romance:
Patricia Rice, Mary Jo Putney

And just so you don't forget, a quick reminder:

Scheduled for release in February, Susan Fraser King's Lady Macbeth received a rave review from Publishers Weekly: http://tinyurl.com/3xkswa

Library Journal chose Loretta's Not Quite a Lady as one of LJ's Best Books of 2007
http://tinyurl.com/3cgcsm

For a sneak preview of an excerpt from Loretta's June 2008 release, Your Scandalous Ways, please visit Romance B(u)y the Book at http://tinyurl.com/3ylu3r.

That's all, folks.  Remember to check in on Sundays when we post winners and announcements.  You can also check the Announcements sidebar to the right.

We Do Love A Lord

by Mary Jo

Wench Jo Beverley has been known to call the Regency historical “the setting that ate a genre.”  And it’s true.  When I first started reading historical romance, settings were all over the map.  Lots of medievals and Westerns, American colonials, Victorians, et al.  Granted, most books were set in English speaking places but there was a wide variety, plus globe trotting books where the protagonists bounced all over the place. At that time, Regencies were the traditional sort, descendents of Jane Austen and Georgette Heyer, generally comedies of manners with clever dialogue and no explicit sex. 

Judith McNaught says she had trouble selling her Regency historical, Whitney, My Love, because editors thought of Regencies as ‘those little books.”  Nonetheless, she sold her book, it became a huge hit, and the race toward market saturation of Regency historicals was on.

Mind you, I love the Regency, as attested by my backlist.  It’s a great setting with lots going on: a “good war” against a evil tyrant, wearable fashions, and an exciting period of reformation and creativity as the industrial revolution helped turn society upside down.

But what the really big appeal of the period?  I’ve long suspected it’s all those lords and ladies.  Americans, having broken free of the British empire and banned all hereditary titles, turned around and fell in love with the idea of an aristocracy. 

American heiresses visiting in England fought for the right to be presented at court.  I once wrote a novella for Harlequin under the title “The Wedding of the Century,” and a major source of Gilded Age material came from the delightful book To Marry an English Lord.  It is now sadly out of print, but if you can find a copy, it’s chock full of details about the intersection of American money and impoverished English aristocrats.  (With great pictures and sidebars!)  My story was inspired by the marriage of Consuelo Vanderbilt and the Duke of Marlborough, but mine had a happy ending, naturally. 

Why are we so fascinated by people with titles?  Why has a presumption that they are somehow superior lasted into our democratic age?  Maybe it’s the sheer exclusivity of the aristocracy.  According to Laura A. Wallace, who did the excellent title site http://laura.chinet.com//html/titles02.html ,in 1996 about 1200 people were entitled to sit in Britain’s House of Lords, and some of those were Law Lords, Archbishops and Bishops, who aren’t hereditary peers.   

The fact that there aren't many real life lords doesn't mean that we can't stock our books to overflowing with fictional peers.  (I recall one publisher wouldn’t buy a Regency set historical unless the hero was a lord.  That may still be true.)  There is a particular oversupply of dukes, the highest rank of the peerage.  Personally, I don’t like to use dukes very often because they are supposed to be addressed as “your grace,” which is clumsy.  The four lower ranks—marquess, earl, viscount, and baron—can be called ‘my lord,’ which is much easier. 

As to that presumption of superiority—a lot of real life Regency lords were raised with a vast sense of entitlement, and at the same time were wrenched from their homes at tender ages and sent to brutal schools where they were subject to all manner of abuse, and sometimes rioted most ferociously against the masters.  (That's Eton on the left.)  I suspect that a lot of them were not very nice people as a consequence of their upbringings—certainly not the sensitive studmuffins who populate our books.  Which is why I so frequently torture my heroes—I figure that some suffering will make them better better men and more perceptive lovers. <G>

For a writer, it’s important to know correct title usage, since some readers have a very low tolerance for sloppy usage.  When I started writing Regencies, title information was harder to come by (though I did make the effort), but these days, it’s easy to find on the internet, so there’s no excuse for egregious errors. 

Briefly, from lowest to highest, the hereditary peerage in Britain is baron, viscount, earl, marquess (or marquis), and duke.  (The title of baronet is hereditary, but they’re not Peers of the Realm, which is quite a different matter.  James I invented baronetcies to sell to rich merchants so he could raise money.  It was considered something of a cut-rate title since it was acquired by money rather than force of arms, but better than nothing.)

Let’s start with the Baron.  According to Wikipedia.com, “William I introduced "baron" as a rank into England to distinguish the men who had pledged their loyalty to him (see Feudalism)."  In the middle ages, "barons" was sometimes used as a general term for the nobility—King John the Only was forced to sign the Magna Carta by his barons.

Next up is the Viscount, which can be construed as lieutenant to a Count, who ruled a county.  (More below.)  I once read that the title was imported to England when a weak king gave it to one of his favorites, thereby infuriating all the barons who had to yield precedence to a good-for-nothing upstart.  (May have read it in one of Thomas Costain’s history books, but cannot vouch for the accuracy of my memory.)

Onward to the Earl, perhaps my favorite title—high, but not stuffily so.  Wikipedia again:  “in the Anglo-Saxon kingdom of England, the king's companions held the title of earls and in Scotland, the title of thane.”  (Think “Thane of Glamis and Thane of Cawdor” for you fans of Macbeth.)  “Jarl” was a Scandinavian variant of “eorl” or “earl.”  In England, a lot of the early earls were in charge of counties, and they bore those names for their titles: Earl of Suffolk, Earl of Lincoln, etc. 

An English earl is equivalent in rank to a French count—and since there is no earless, the wife of an earl is a countess.  No one ever claimed this stuff is logical!

My one medieval, Uncommon Vows. featured two men, hero and villain, vying for control of Shropshire, one loyal to Queen Matilda and the other to King Stephen.  My research had revealed that at that point there was no formal Earl of Shropshire, so why not let my guys fight it out?   

Next up: Marquess (the usual English form) or Marquis (French and Scottish) is derived from the German title Margrave.  The distant ancestor word was “marca” for a frontier or borderland.  (Think “mark.”)  A lord who had extra responsibilities for maintaining order on the frontier got a title that reflected that.  In England, there were “Marcher Lords” who maintained the frontier between England and Wales.  (Those rowdy Welsh!) 

The highest title, Duke, is derived from the Latin “dux,” for leader or war leader.  Historical romances have created enough fictional dukes to fill a football stadium.  Royal Dukes are another matter, being members of the royal family, and include traditional titles like Duke of York and Duke of Cumberland.  On the Continent, there were principalities headed by dukes, like the Duke of Burgundy.

That's Thomas Lawrence's famous portrait of the Duke of Wellington, a favorite of mine because he earned the title through blazing merit.  Winston Churchill was offered the title of Duke of Dover for his achievements in leading Britain through WWII, but he turned it down.  As the grandson (and cousin) of Dukes of Marlborough, he might have figured he didn't need any additional titles.

So those are the lords.  There’s no question that noblemen are great fantasy objects, so I expect that we writers will continue to create them.  Including that delightful subgenre of the stable boy who proves to be a duke, or variants thereof.  (Guilty!!!) 

And if you want to carry the fantasy further—or perhaps give a gift to an Anglophile, here’s your chance:  http://moonestates.com/shop-kincavel.php

For a mere $65 or so, depending on the exchange rate, you can become a Laird or Lady of Kincavel, an estate on the Ardnamurchan Peninsula in far western Scotland, with views across the sea to the lovely Isle of Mull.  (I’ve visited, and Mull was one of my favorite places in Scotland.) 

You will own one square foot of land.  It’s in a conservation area so you can’t build on it, but you can visit, and maybe picnic on the seashore.  You will also have the right to call yourself Laird (or Lady) of Kincavel, which is an ancient title attached to ownership of land rather than a rank of the peerage.

From what I can tell, this is entirely legal, and really kind of fun.  The land was originally owned by the Sonachan Hotel,  http://www.sonachan.com/ , which looks like a nice place to stay when you visit your mini-estate.  The whole program is a clever way for the original owners of the land to generate some income toward the conservation of native flora and fauna.  So this is your chance to become a Scottish Lady!  The perfect gift for that hard-to-buy for Laird in your life!

After all, why can’t we make some or our fantasies come true? <g>  Left is a picture of Consuelo Vanderbilt, Duchess of Marlborough, and her family.  She later divorced the duke.  Some fantasies are better left in the imagination.

So how do you feel about all those lords and ladies?  And to you have some favorite Regencies where the hero isn’t an aristocrat?  There are some out there!

Lairdly yours—

Mary Jo

After Christmas Wishes (with apologies to Dr. Seuss)

First things first!  I loved all the responses to my Christmas memories blog.

I loved the recipes, the scout reindeer, the horrible artificial floral arrangement that never stopped being given, the recipes, Liz's gingerbread, tales of scungilli and charity baskets, the last minute bestest gift, the singing, the candies, the trees, home made breads, warm hearths and hopes and expectations.  Your memories sad and glad...  you guys are truly something wonderful.

But as I promised, I got all random on you, and so if Nina P. will kindly send me her real snail mail addy, a Christmas Anthology will go to her.

And now, for this one day after Christmas report, I have glad wishes for all of you to take with you into the shiny New Year.  A caution and a admonition:
      

Go for it! This festive week, when you go to a dinner, or a cocktail party, or a family get- together, do NOT deprive yourselves.

Have the chocolate whizzies, the gummy snabbles, the vanilla coated razzles and the iced Booton berry cake.  Partake deeply of the roast beasts, the fricasseed squabbles, the fried patty cakes, the top Belly Up stew.  Dip your breads in the battered gravy, loosen your belts and try the trussled nodcocks, and don't forget a nice big slice of the Munced Pie!  Pile flavored greases on the fatatoes, and drink all the spirits, nogged or not.  It's Holiday Time.

Diets will be with us always, so don't deprive yourselves this joyous time of year.

I tell you this because I had to cancel all my Christmas plans because of a tum that went on the bum.  I've had ginger ale and toast, not a sniff of roast.  Gas-X and Tylenol instead of punch from the bowl.  My desserts have been mush, not Stromberry crush; of the forty nine fried fishies of Christmas Eve there wasn't a taste, what a waste!  My Beouf du Chine, my very own dish?  I wish.

Even gingerbread.  Not a crumb made it to my bed.  Do not even speak to me of crandleberries, in fact, don't dare whisper a tasty syllable.

I would have killed for a much maligned fruitsycake, I'd have eaten anything you could bake.

If I could have. I had none of the above.

I had, instead, a flu, a fluke, a cruel pain in the belly, and so, not even one snitch of jelly.

But I devoured your memories - thank you one and all. So since I know too well that Fate might have a bug in store, I urge you to eat until you can't anymore!

To you dear friends I earnestly wish a Happy New Year, a prosperous, healthy one too...filled with yummies and Hullabaloo!

Now go - eat.  Do not stint!

Cheers to the Red and the Green

Susan Sarah here, offering in goodly Word Wench tradition (at least this month) some further thoughts on holiday-themed food. I'll offer, too, a signed copy of my December Avon release, TO WED A HIGHLAND BRIDE, to be awarded to someone whose name will be picked at random from our blog commenters.

James MacCarran, Viscount Struan, is a practical, scholarly sort who is not ready to take a bride, despite family pressures...but when a stormy night in the Highlands brings an unexpected encounter with beautiful, fey Elspeth MacArthur, James is suddenly rethinking his stand on marriage...and though he doubts that the local Highland legends have any truth to them, he realizes that the mysterious Elspeth is more than a weaver's granddaughter. But she will not reveal all her secrets to him--well, not just yet....

"Exquisitely woven of the fairy lore told in Celtic song and legend ... a masterful romance." -- Barbara Samuel in BookPage

My sister Wenches have come up with some great recipes and thoughts on holiday food traditions, and I have to confess, at this juncture, that cooking is just not one of my strong points. I come from a family of good cooks and great recipes (my uncle has a very successful restaurant based in part on family recipes) -- and I'm a pretty good cook when I have to be ... but for the most part I'm not much of a foodie, and that does make a difference. I'm not compelled or fascinated by cooking and I'm known to avoid it. But I do bake at Christmas time, and I'll cook some family Italian dishes in particular.

So yes, I'm a lazy Wench when it comes to putzing around in the kitchen -- especially right now, when I have a deadline, galleys, revisions and web site material all sort of due at the same time, a situation I hope never to repeat -- but I'll share one of my favorite and quickest holiday recipes:

Christmas Pizza: So simple -- all you need is a phone and a $20 dollar bill!

We're lucky enough to live near a pizzeria that does a fantastic pizza with fresh spinach, broccoli, and tomatoes -- it's available all year round, but it's a particularly festive meal in December, so we often order take-out on December 23, as we did this year -- it's a great convenience and a good meal while some of us are finishing up our shopping, and the rest of us are facing a long night of wrapping presents!

Now that I think about it, there are a lot of Red and Green foods prepared at Christmas time!

Cookies...who can live without them at this time of year. I do love to bake cookies --  sugar cookies with red and green sprinkles, or red and green frosting ... and of course there are gingerbread men and their ginger ladies ... pfefferneuse and molasses, snickerdoodles and chocolate chip (some dare to claim the CCs don't count as Christmas cookies, but hey -- anything with chocolate in it is welcome in my house at any time of year!).

When my kids were younger, we would make gingerbread houses and decorate them lavishly, with royal icing and green and red gumdrops, with peppermint candies and candy canes, gobs of snowy icing and colored sprinkles, non-pareils for the roof shingles, and lollipops filling the windows for a stained-glass effect. We would put marshmallow snowmen in the yard, and even if the walls sagged and the snowmen were tilted, we had a great time (this one was made by the ladies at www.ConfectionObsession.com, a local bakery).

On Christmas Eve, or sometimes it will be Christmas Day if family members are arriving at different times, we'll have a buffet with a variety of foods -- and the array of red-and-green themed foods continues. I always make a spinach lasagna (I'm making two tomorrow for family and friends), or chicken cacciatore, or spaghetti and meatballs... in our family, anything Italian is considered a Christmas-y food. Maybe because we're part Italian -- but it's also because Italian dishes are often red-and-green foods!  Nothing looks nicer on a Christmas table, I think, than an array of steaming, spicy, brightly-colored dishes made with fresh ingredients...in reds and greens.

Yes folks, turkey and all the trimmings is for Thanksgiving -- lasagna and gingerbread houses are for Christmas (yeah, I know, maybe it's just us)!  There are years that some family members have tried to sneak in roast beef or ham, but there's no getting away from the Italian dishes at this time of year!

And to clear your palates -- we have looked at a lot of sweets and rich foods -- there's also the fresh, bright tomato-reds and lettuce-and-cucumber greens of a big bowl of salad! Yum!!

The list of red and green combination foods goes on and on... let us not overlook red and green peppers, or strawberries for dessert and for daiquiris ... olives and pimentos, maraschino cherries and green jello, cranberries and green beans ... sugar cookies with red and green sprinkles .... I'm sure you all have your own favorites to add!

May whatever holiday you celebrate at this time of year be filled with love and warmth, with joy and generosity. I wish all good things for you this week, and may that carry through into your New Year....

Susan Sarah

Congratulations Susan Fraser King, Loretta Chase, and "bluecat"

We have a Wiener:
Yes, we have another wiener!  Bluecat, because you left a comment on Susan/Miranda's cranberry blog (or should that be cranberry bog?)  you've won a copy of the anthology, Christmas Wedding Belles, which includes a story by Miranda Jarrett.  Please send your  mailing address to Susan/Miranda or me, and tell us how you would like the book autographed.  Congratulations, bluecat!

Publishers Weekly Loves Susan Fraser King:
Way to go, Susan/Sarah!  Scheduled for release in February, Lady Macbeth by Susan Fraser King received a  rave review from PW!   In part, PW said, "Historical romance novelist King leaps into deeper historical waters with this captivating take on Lady Macbeth, who tells her side of the story with a forceful, uncompromising daring . . . Based on historical evidence and recent theories of the era, this is an epic tale written in high-voltage prose. King’s novel will thrill lovers of Shakespeare adaptations and delight anyone who wants to enjoy a ripping tale of love and ambition."  Lady Macbeth by Susan Fraser King. Crown, February 2008.  ISBN 978-0-307-34174-7

Library Journal Loves Loretta Chase:
Library Journal has just released their "Best Books 2007" list, and Not Quite a Lady by Loretta Chase is on the list!  According to LJ, Not Quite a Lady is a "multilayered romance, which boasts a plethora of memorable characters, a wickedly kept secret, and exquisite writing. A heartwarming gem."  Congratulations, Loretta!  What a great way to end the year.  Not Quite a Lady by Loretta Chase. Avon, May 2007. ISBN 978-0-06-123123-0

Pudding & Pie

From Loretta:

It just keeps snowing.  As of yesterday, this part of Massachusetts had 20 inches.  By tomorrow, we are likely see over two feet.  I am learning to use my new camera, and below, here and there, you'll see my winter wonderland experiments.

It's good weather for thinking about food.  Frankly, after a week of baking cookies, I'd rather think about food than prepare it.  Last time, on my chicken blog, some of the U.S. readers expressed curiosity about English puddings.  I have since had a little time to delve into The New Female Instructor or Young Woman's Guide to Domestic Happiness, first published in 1834.  Turns out there are many varieties of puddings.  The puddings are cooked in a cloth, which must be scrupulously clean.  It is dampened with boiling water and lightly coated with flour, and depending on what kind of pudding you put into it, you tie it either closely or loosely.  Everyone clear on that?

Puddings are divided into two categories, Boiled Puddings and Baked Puddings.  There are both sweet and savory varieties, but mainly sweet.

One of the Boiled Puddings listed is Marrow Pudding:  Grate a small loaf into crumbs, and pour on them a pint of boiling hot cream.  Cut a pound of beef marrow very thin, beat up four eggs well, and then add a glass of brandy, with sugar and nutmeg to your taste.  Mix them all well together, and boil it three quarters of an hour.  Cut two ounces of citron into very thin bits, and when you dish up your pudding, stick them all over it.

My sense is that the beef marrow is used much in the way suet is used in a number of dishes, as the fat element. There's a recipe for Suet Dumplings, among others.

Here's the Potatoe (yes, that's how it's spelled in the book) Pudding, which sounds quite tasty: 

Boil half a pound of potatoes till they are soft, then peel them, mash them with the back of a spoon, and rub them through a sieve to have them fine and smooth.  Then take half a pound of fresh butter melted, half a pound of fine sugar, and beat them well together till they are quite smooth.  Beat up six eggs, whites as well as yolks, and stir them in with a glass of sack or brandy.  Pour it into your cloth, tie it up, and about half an hour will do it.  When you take it out, melt some butter, put into it a glass of wine sweetened with sugar, and pour it over your pudding.

I loved studying these recipes because they were created before anyone ever heard of cholesterol.  This is also the case with Albanian cooking, which always makes me wonder where they got the idea the Mediterranean diet keeps you slim.  Or was it just my family that used butter so lavishly?

We have a savory pie called, depending on where you come from, Lakror or Byrek.  (the y is pronounced like the German ü.)  It's made in large pans, something like the size of a pizza pan.  The crust is made of several layers of paper-thin dough, well coated with clarified butter.  It can be filled with various mixtures: cottage & cream cheese, ground beef, lamb & onions, leeks & cottage & cream cheese, onions & cottage cheese, scallions & cottage cheese, spinach & the cheeses, squash.  One might add or substitute feta cheese to some of these mixtures.  My favorite is a version with a slightly different crust, involving more oil & less butter, and filled with a tomato & onion mixture.  Like most Albanian dishes (like most delicious food, actually), the pie is labor intensive.  But experienced Albanian cooks can make several in a few hours.  In the old country, they'd probably take the pie to the local baker & have it baked in a wood-fired oven.  IIRC, a great many kitchens did not and still do not have ovens.

Food gets people excited, and we tend to have strong opinions.  As I trolled the Internet, looking for recipes & pictures, I came upon this lively discussion.

One of the comments seems to refer to some recipes I found here.

I too found the recipes odd.  My family does not put cinnamon in baklava, for instance, and I never heard of anyone putting mint in the meatballs (qoftë).  Maybe someone somewhere confused mint with parsley, and the error traveled round the Internet, as often happens.

Of course, everyone expects the food to taste the way Mum or Gram made it or the way it tasted in Korcë or Tirana or Permet or Pogradec or wherever one's family came from.  But Albania is very mountainous and used to have vast stretches of swampland.  Villages tended to be isolated.  Thus, even though it's a small country with a small population, there's tremendous variety in the cuisine and in the way any one dish is prepared.  I have a tattered cookbook put together decades ago by the local church.  It has three different methods for making the Lakror/Byrek crust--and the various members of my family who make it not only don't make it any of these ways, but do it differently from one another.  And equally deliciously in their separate ways, by the way.

If you'd like another fine example of Albanian Heart Punch Execution Cooking, check out perpeq.

I leave you with a dish my mother makes at holidays, a sweet stuffing called Drop (the o is a longish one, like the o in adore).  I have clear memories of breaking up the stale bread for my grandmother, who was very particular about the kind of bread and the size pieces it had to be.  She never used or wrote a recipe.  Neither does my mother.  This one comes from a church cookbook, and I think it may be a good starting point:

2 loaves day old bread
1-1/2 cups butter
1 cup raisins
1 cup chopped walnuts
sugar (Mum adds secret sweet ingredients she won’t reveal even to her children)

Break bread into small pieces.  Melt butter in large pot.  Add bread and cook until golden brown.  Add raisins, nuts, and sugar.  Serve with turkey or chicken.  Note:  For more flavor, add two tablespoons of turkey or chicken drippings.

Since I haven't a holiday book to give away, I'll let the winning commenter choose a Loretta Chase book from those I have available.

Happy Holidays!

Mixed fruit and nuts!

Here's Jo, and here's Christmas Charlie and Billie except that they don't get to turn into elves until Christmas Eve.

In our idiosyncratic takes on Christmas, mine is genealogy. Every year I indulge in this for a few weeks, hoping to find a few more details on the family trees. New information is becoming available all the time, but alas both my and my husband's families drift off into the undocumented peasantry within a couple of centuries.

But I also find it a useful time to poke around in social history, generally using the censuses. This time I looked at the village of Wressle (or Wressell) in Yorkshire, because some of the Beverleys did come from there. I put the data on Minepast because it's a bit long for here.

Not all explorations turn up wonders, and this doesn't, but I note a few things. There is a notable ruined castle there, shown on the left, and on the census, there's a bailiff for the farmland around. There are a fair number of older people -- 60s and 70s -- in case anyone still thinks everyone died off at 35. Most of them  are recorded  as still working. It was a tough life back then.

The larger families with children every couple of years suggests that children weren't dying off quite as drastically as is sometimes suggested, at least, not in the country.

The selection of names was mostly pretty limited. Stand it the village street and call for Ann or Hannah and a lot of women would come running!

Anyway, it is an interesting way to peer into England's past. Shame there were no useful censuses before the mid 19th century. Do you see anything else of interest there?

Poking around in Scotland, I came across this family.

Eleho Cottage, Perthshire
Archibald Reid 35,Writer.
Charlotte 30 Married in 1827
10 little Reids from 2 to 13 and three others
Isabella Allan
Elisabeth Corelli
Isabella Swart

Alas for all poor writers, I could not find a record of Archibald Reid. Can anyone do better? I have this image of him indulging his muse while his poor wife deals with the 10 children. I'm not even sure what the Eleho might refer to. It seems to be linked to spiritual values of some sort. Anyone know?

As for more traditional Christmas patter -- our Christmas dinner is pizza, with red and green peppers, of course. We like fruitcake, and don't know why people have such a thing against it. Of course, a good fruitcake is made in summer and anointed with brandy at regular intervals thereafter. What's not to like?

I actually got drunk on fruitcake once. Truly!

I make mincemeat every year because in my opinion, North American mincemeat is all wrong. It's too sweet, and usually has too much cinnamon. I'd like to share the recipe, but over the years it's become one of those bits of this, bits of that ones. But basically for a goodly amount, take a pound each of raisins, sultanas, and currants. (Sorry, English cooking is all by weight, but you can guestimate all of this.) Add about 4 oz of candied peel and a pound of finely chopped apples. Half a pound of sugar and half a pound of suet. I don't like the powdery stuff that's everywhere now. It should be minced and in lumps  to have the right effect. The grated rind and juice of 2 oranges. 1.5 teaspoonfuls of nutmeg and allspice and .5 teaspoonful of cinnamon. Mush it all up with a food processor or blender (though a mincer is better if you have one.) Add about a cup of rum.

It might be on the solid side rather than runny. This is fine. When you make your mince pies, add a bit more rum to fix the problem! If you're not up to that, water or orange juice will do.

Enjoy!

I will shortly be sending my Christmas e-newsletter which will include some free fiction, though in at least one case, you get what you paid for!*G* You can sign up off any page on my web page, or check the newsletter page now and then because I'll put it up there at the same time. My newsletter directory.

As with all the Wenches, I'll be giving a copy of one of my Christmasy books to a randomly picked commenter here as long as I have a copy. The Christmasy novels are Christmas Angel, Forbidden Magic (though you wouldn't know it by the covers), and Winter Fire (which I wanted to call Christmas at Rothgar Abbey.)

And a very happy Christmas.

Jo

PS, dried fruit and peanuts is quite tasty.

Christmas Cranberries

By Susan/Miranda

Continuing in our spirit of holiday blogs for the month, I’m offering a copy of my new Christmas anthology, Christmas Wedding Belles, to a randomly selected reader.  Yes, my story in this anthology is a Miranda Jarrett historical romance, but be not frightened, ye historical fiction readers of Susan Holloway Scott: the hero and heroine may be invented, but the secondary lovers in this story are the very real Admiral Lord Horatio Nelson and Lady Emma Hamilton, so post away!  A winner will be chosen and announced here later this week.

As all we Wenches reminisce about our favorite nostalgic holiday food, I have to offer the all-American Cranberry.  Now despite the unending bounty at the local grocery, I’m a firm believer in eating foods in season: strawberries in late May, peaches in August, apples in autumn.  And, of course, cranberries for Thanksgiving and Christmas.

Cranberries aren’t easy to love, of course, not in the way that other berries are.  They’re a gorgeous red, but raw, they’re hard as pebbles and so tart that they require twice their weight in sugar to make them palatable.  I’ve always imagined those first settlers in Massachusetts discovering them with delight, only to pucker up with dismay at first bite. 

I suspect that it’s my old Yankee blood that makes them so appealing to me (some weird race-memory at work), or perhaps it’s pleasant memories from late-summer vacations on Cape Cod, when the bogs are being flooded for harvest and the red berries are floated to the service like thousands of cheerful, bobbing red marbles.  I know we’re supposed to be talking holly-berries in December, but the larger, rosy-pink cranberries look much more festive to me.  Heck, I even invented a fictions cranberry-licious location for one of my earlier books, Cranberry Point.

For history-nerds like us Wenches, cranberries carry a wealth of lore.  Yes, they were another food introduced by Native Americans (who mixed them with dried venison and pemmican for a long-lasting food to carry with them on hunting trips) to the Pilgrims, which explains their presence next to Thanksgiving turkeys. Likely the 17th century English settlers were already familiar with the close cousins to cranberries native to Britain: marsh berries, bog berries, and (my favorite name) fen whort.

Soon Massachusetts cranberries were staples not only of Yankee cooking, but of importers, too, sent in sailing ships to the southern colonies and to London, where they were considered a delicacy, much favored for use in sauces, preserves, and pies.  They traveled well, and didn’t spoil easily.  For that reason, they were also carried among the ships’ stores, a good Vitamin-C-laden preventative against scurvy on long voyages.

With the advent of Christmas trees in 19th century American parlors, the long-lasting qualities and bright colors of cranberries made them a ready choice for decorations as well, strung into garlands.  If you’d like to try this yourself, here’s a link to directions for a Cranberry Garland with Popcorn, suitable for an outdoor Christmas tree for wild birds as well the indoor variety.

Now cranberries can be found year-round, in many forms from granola bars to cocktails. But for me, they’re a holiday fruit, and with that in mind, I’m sharing a tasty cookie recipe.  The cranberries make them look Christmas-y, so they’ll pass as Christmas cookies at the neighborhood cookies-swap, but they taste better than many of the flashier holiday cookies.  And because they include cranberries and oatmeal, you can pretend they’re “health” cookies.  Hang the butter and white chocolate: these are actually GOOD for you!

One other recommendation: I took a box of these cookies to my agent’s office last fall, where they were devoured instantly by the staff.  Gratifying to know that I’ve done my part to keep literary agents in New York safe from scurvy.

White Chocolate Chip Cranberry Oatmeal Cookies

2/3 cup Unsalted Butter, softened
2/3 cup Brown Sugar
2  Large Eggs
1 1/2 cups Old Fashioned Oats
1 1/2 cups Flour
1 teaspoon Baking Soda
1/2 teaspoon Salt
1 Bag of Sweetened Dried Cranberries (6 oz.) (aka Craisins)
2/3 cup White Chocolate Chips

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Using an electric mixer cream butter and brown sugar together in a bowl until light and fluffy. Add eggs and mix well. Combine oats, flour, baking soda and salt in a separate bowl. Add to butter mixture in several additions, mixing well after each addition. Stir in sweetened dried cranberries, chocolate chips and walnuts.

Drop rounded teaspoonfuls onto ungreased cookie sheet. Bake for 10 to 12 minutes or until golden brown.

Makes approximately 3 1/2 dozen cookies

I’ll make it easy to win a book, a simple yay or nay for cranberries.  Do you like them –– in relish, juice, or a shimmering cylinder of jelly, complete with the ribs of the can pressed into the sides –– or do you wish they’d stayed in the bogs?  And I’ll also offer you all the happiest of holiday wishes, and the most joyful of book-filled new years!
 

Tinsel and Figgy Puddings

Wench Pat here:

My contribution to our Christmas-lite blog concerns the Christmas tree.  “Everyone” knows that Christmas trees originated in Germany and became popular in Victorian times, but of course, I couldn’t address the topic without taking a peek at the history.  I won’t tell you all the fun facts I learned, but here’s a great site to get you started:  http://www.christmasarchives.com/trees.html

I’m fascinated that the original tinsel was actually made of real silver and tin until as late as the middle of the 20th century.  None of that flinging of hands full of flimsy tissue into the tree! So, ha! All you flingers of tinsel, you’re in the wrong!  Tinsel was meant to be delicately hung one strand at a time.

Obviously, I have at least one hang-up about the appropriate decoration of a Christmas tree.  Most of my family are flingers of tinsel (and wrapping paper and occasionally of ornaments).  But my husband and I prefer the meticulous placement of tree and ornaments and other decoration, one piece at a time, moving them about until perfection is attained. Or we did, anyway.

This year, we don’t even have a tree.  It took decades to degenerate to this state, but the dissolution was evident from the start.  First, our aesthetic taste insisted that Scotch pines be the only type of tree illuminating our home. Since our first years of marriage were spent in college and army, we barely had the money for a pine branch much less a tree. And if we bought a tree, we had no ornaments except cast offs from our families.  But somehow, we always managed a fat pine, even if it was short.  And the tinsel was meticulously hung on branch ends only.

As we had children and more income and moved around, we discovered the benefits of Frasier firs over Scotch pine.  But little hands couldn’t manage meticulous tinsel placement, nor were expensive ornaments practical around toddlers and pets.  So we began a tradition of making our own ornaments, painting cut-out wood elves and Santas, molding plaster into reindeers and candy canes, and decorating it all with glue and glitter. (too bad glitter glue sticks weren’t available then!)  This was so much fun that everyone had their own tiny tree to decorate for their bedrooms, as well as the main tree.

And of course, the trees grew taller along with the taller ceilings of our new homes.  By the time the kids were teenagers, we were in a house that begged for 12-foot trees that had to be special ordered from Canada.  Numerous strings of lights were required, and it could take days to hang all the ornaments. Have you ever tried dragging a dead 12-foot fir from the house on New Years’ Day?  We would still be vacuuming needles and tinsel a year later.  That’s when tinsel first lost its glitter.  We bought tinsel garlands and called it done.

Then came the year when the kids had flown the coop.  By then, we’d moved to another state and had downsized the house, although we still had tall ceilings.  Since we were traveling to family instead of having family at home, we downsized the tree as well.  And with no toddlers any longer, the tree became a decoration for our parties, and I indulged my penchant for pretty glass by buying matching ornaments.

Then came the year when we had no parties scheduled because we were traveling so much.  That was the year we didn’t have the energy to put up lights much less tinsel. And—horror of horrors—we indulged in our first artificial tree with lights already attached.  I’d been saying for years decorating would be far easier if trees could come with lights, and someone heard my plea.

We’ve moved again. We’re still traveling at Christmas. And these days, our only greenery is on the outside of the house.  But it’s a lovely blue spruce, probably 25 feet high.  Maybe I’ll hang some bird seed balls on it.  Cardinals make great ornaments, don’t they?

And because I’m a cooperative, obedient sort, and the wenches thought Christmas recipes would be nice, I’ll add my flambe recipe:  Find a figgy pudding, or a fruity cake, or a decadent relative or whatever shows up in your kitchen.  Apply good dollop of 80 proof liquor, preferably brandy, cognac, or for the cheap among you, rum.  Set fire to above.
If a figgy pudding isn’t readily available, sip 80 proof until something flamable appears.  As last resort, set fire to breath. Just don’t melt the chocolate.

Happy Holiday Memory

Greetings to All and to All a great Holiday memory.

We all look forward to the Holiday season, but most of us flavor our expectations with remembrances of an earlier day. Children, like puppies and kittens, think with their tastebuds and noses. Such memories become indelible.
I suppose that's why there's such emotional turmoil in some hearts at the closing of the year.
As for me, I remember my earliest childhood (I had one, really) when each of my neighbors had different reasons for their holiday lights. We were a Norman Rockwell sort of suburbia. We not only tolerated, we loved each other's festivals.

My best friends, Jimmy and Anne, celebrated different reasons for joy at the dark of the season. And as for me? Well, my family celebrated every holiday that came along.

I'd go next door to Jimmy's house to watch him play with the newest trains in his ever-growing train set. The living room was vast and dim. At Christmas he had a Christmas tree that went straight up to the ceiling. His train set was nestled in cotton stretched to look like snow at the base of the tree. Ornaments covered the pine needles, and were themselves coated over with tinsel, and I had never seen anything more dazzling in all my life, not even the Rockettes at Radio City Music Hall. The house smelled of pine and cedar, wood crackling in the fireplace, all overlaid with the scent of dinner in the oven.

Anne's grandmother did the cooking in their family. Alas, she was a dreadful cook. And so her Chanukah lotkes were almost inedible, her beef needed a hacksaw, and her cookies were dry as the Negev. As were her other Holiday treats. We ate them out of respect. But Anne got gifts too. And she had a menorah lit with candles against the dark of the year, and so even her granny's ghastly food tasted better by the steady glow of their small clean clear lights. We sang songs, and laughed, and made the house safe and cozy against the night.

My mother hated to cook. How can you celebrate everything if you can't cook? She did it very nicely, thank you. She was the manager of an exclusive chocolate shop where they made all their own chocolate. So Christmas for me was Santas filled with rich, cremes flavored with maple, rum and berries. We had trees of solid milk or dark. Chocolate Dreidels. Brittle and fudge and truffles. Fat chocolate covered prunes that had been soaked in rum. Peppermint this and jellies of that. Chocolate covered everything! Ah me. I don't remember what was for dinner. For me, the holidays were a constant desert.

When I grew up and had my own family, I had to invent my own Holiday Feast.
I made it as ecumenical as my upbringing. And so I share with you my recipe for the best ever Winter Solstice meal. I once studied cooking at the China Institute in Manhattan, and I loved French food. Thus - my Boeuf du Chine.

All ingredient sizes are up to the chef.

Take a really good tender beef roast.
Cut into tidy squares. Dredge in flour, and saute on all sides.
Have a huge pot ready to put them in.
In that pot: at least four cans of pure beef broth, a bunch or two of chopped scallions, as much crushed garlic as you like.
At least two handfuls of peeled tiny pearl onions.
6 to 8 carrots, chopped into segments
2 big crispy green peppers, likewise sliced.
And - a few handfuls of dried Chinese Mushrooms, soaked in water until they expand.
Slice them and into the pot they go.
1 cup of good dark soy sauce (Kikkoman is good)
Ditto Beaujolais.
As it cooks, add as much soy sauce and Beaujolais as you like.

Cook and cook and taste, and add. Cook some more until everything is soft and rich, tasting of earth and field, soy sauce and wine.
Serve with a crunchy French bread, potatoes if you want them, a green salad on the side. And more wine of your choice.
(Note to those who abhor alcohol. There is no alcohol content in the stew itself now. It's all been cooked out.)

The thing is to make a memory to lighten the darkness of the year, and our lives.
I have so many glorious holiday memories. I know you do too.
Do share your favorite with us, please.
I'll pick a name (blindfolded) and send an autographed copy of one of my Regency Christmas Anthologies to some merry person who posts a memory here.

We Have Another Wiener!

Teresa Warner, you're a winner!  You've won a Mary Jo Putney book for commenting on Mary Jo's blog, "December Casual."  Please contact me at [email protected] with your mailing address and e-mail.  Mary Jo's incommunicado for a day or two, but as soon as we get your mailing address, she'll send your book.  Congratulations, Teresa!

December Casual

Holiday time!  We Wenches decided to do some idiosyncratic holidayish blogs, but since several of the Wenchly declared themselves already sick of Christmas carols by November 26th, the interpretations will be idiosyncratic indeed.  There may even be some recipes of varying degrees of uselessness. 

The lovely muted snow scenes were shot by our whipmistress, Sherrie Holmes, and be I’ll throw in a deer picture I shot from my living room.  (Eastern white tailed deer journeyed to suburban `Maryland, and lo, they found it good.) 

Those who keep track of such things might have noted that this should be Edith’s day, but since I’ll be away for a few days starting tomorrow, she kindly swapped dates with me.  So I’m kicking off December Casual with a Christmas in the country story. 

Cats in the Christmas Tree

I grew up on an actual farm in Western New York, the sort of place where you really could slog through the snow and cut down a Christmas tree in the back 40.  My father would take his ax and we’d tag along, vibrating with excitement. And would return to the house with our boots and snow pants soaked and all of us ready to be warmed up. 

These days, good solid tree stands are readily available, but we used an old coffee can.  The physics of a coffee can when supporting a sizable spruce tree are not good, so the tree would be set up in a corner of the living room with guy wires (doubled string) connecting it to a couple of secure points.  Generally this worked. 

Except when some of the cats decided to explore their inner panther and swarm up the tree.  Usually this would be signaled by crashing and general sounds of disaster.  We’d rush into the living room, where the cats were usually flying in all directions. 

We averaged five cats at a time.  These were not aloof barn cats by any means.  They were lazy, manipulative indoor/outdoor felines who slept on the heating vents and enjoyed a life of ease.  In cold weather, if they couldn’t coax someone to let them into the house, they’d go into the basement via a window and drape themselves over the rectangular vent pipes that carried heat upstairs.  If you went down into the dirt-floored basement and looked up, you’d see feral reflections from golden eyes.  But I digress.

Apart from a few broken ornaments, the tree crashes weren’t too disastrous.  We’d clean up the mess, re-erect the tree, and hope that the current felines had been alarmed enough to stay on the ground for the rest of the season.

To be fair, there were occasions when the cats climbed the tree without catastrophic consequences.  It was rather fun to look at the tree and see a little furry face peering out. 

Nonetheless,  I learned my lesson well.  These days I have a substantial tree base that would be hard to knock over.  It’s designed so a cat can’t get its head in to drink the wild water.  And the lower levels of ornaments are always unbreakable, in case one of the kitties thinks it’s a particularly irresistible new cat toy. 

Sauerkraut for Christmas

I'm going to throw in a holiday recipe as well.  Sauerkraut as an essential side dish to the Thanksgiving turkey came as a great Baltimore surprise when I first moved to Maryland, since I’d never liked sauerkraut, but I found a recipe in a Crockpot cookbook that looked promising, and modified it so that it hardly tastes like sauerkraut.  I consider this A Good Thing. <G>

Sauerkraut with Pork, Apples, and Onions

This is peasant food, so quantities are approximate.

Three to four pounds of fresh sauerkraut, drained
About 1 ½ - 2 ½ pounds of pork chops
Two medium to large onions, sliced
Two apples, cored and sliced (don’t need to be peeled.)
A tablespoon or two of caraway seeds
Half a cup of water with half a teaspoon of salt dissolved in it

Trim fat and brown the chops on both sides, seasoning with salt and pepper to taste.  Then cut the chops into pieces.  The size depends on whether you like large chunks of pork or small ones.  The cutting up is easier to do if you get the expensive boneless pork chops, but any will do.

Using a standard size crock pot (slow cooker), layer the ingredients, starting and ending with sauerkraut and scattering some caraway seeds as you go. 

Add the salted water, cover, and cook in the crock pot on low for six to eight hours.  (Pork should be tender and falling apart.)  Slow cooking on stove top or in the oven would probably work, but would require more watching. 

This can be either a side dish with turkey, or a main dish served with mashed potatoes and maybe applesauce on the side.

People tend to like this dish—sometimes to their surprise. <G>

A Christmas Anthology

Lastly, I’m going to give away a copy of the reissued Christmas anthology, A Stockingful of Joy.  Susan/Sarah is also in it, along with Jill Barnett and Justine Dare.  It must be a good anthology, since this is its third time around. <g> 

My story, “The Best Husband Money Can Buy,” was inspired by a small newspaper filler piece about a Spanish businessman who visited a church in Stockholm and noticed the coffin of a recently deceased man in a side chapel.  A devout Catholic, the Spaniard prayed for the soul of the departed and left his name in the guestbook, noting that he was the only one who signed.  A month or two later, he was contacted by a Swedish firm of lawyers and told that he would receive the entire and substantial estate of the deceased man, who had no family and said his money would go to anyone who prayed for him.

Such a great story!  Loretta was pondering what to write next and I offered her this idea, but it didn’t excite her.  So when this novella turned up, I used the story.  The heroine, Emma Stone, is an orphaned governess who allows herself one day a year to think of her happy childhood holidays when she and her parents would gather at the grand palace of the Duke of Warrington, where a whole extended family of Vaughns would celebrate Christmas for a fortnight every year.  It has been ten years since Emma attended, though the dowager duchess still sent invitations. 

Then an unexpected legacy makes Emma a young woman of means—and more than anything else, she wants a husband and family.  So she asks her lawyer to find a suitable gentleman.  Then she learns that the highly unsuitable cousin she’d always adored is in need of a rich wife…

Marriages of convenience are great fun because two people who are already legally joined must figure out how to get along with each other, and hopefully enjoy their new state.  Since this is not only a romance but a Christmas romance, you can pretty much guess the ending.  <g>

There are two interesting sidenotes.  First, when the anthology first came out, there was a review on a minor site that complained that the hero and heroine were cousins, eeuuuwww!  Which proves that not everyone reads carefully, since it was spelled out that they were second cousins once removed, which is perfectly legal and not at all incestuous. 

Secondly—a couple of months ago, a reader e-mailed and said that in fact the original story that inspired mine seems to be a fabrication, though it ran in legitimate newspapers.   Here’s a link for it.  http://www.snopes.com/luck/will.asp  What a hoot!  It doesn’t  matter if the story isn’t true, because it was still a great inspiration. <G>  And I adore the sentimentality of Christmas stories.

Anyhow, a free, signed copy of A Stockingful of Joy will go to a commenter on this post between now and Tuesday midnight.  It won’t get sent out instantly because I’ll be away for a bit, but you’ll have it before Christmas.

Happy holidays.  And watch out for those penguins!

Mary Jo

And the Wieners Are ...

Christine Himsl-Rayner won an autographed Loretta Chase book for suggesting the chicken blog topic!  Our visitors can win a book by suggesting ideas for blog topics.  Just send your suggestions to Sherrie, and if a Wench chooses your suggestion as a blog topic, you'll win a book!

Georgie Lee, you are also a book winner, for leaving a comment on Loretta's chicken blog. That's another way to win a Wench book--leave a comment.  Congratulations to our two wieners!  (Georgie, please send your mailing address to Sherrie at [email protected] and let her know how you'd like the book signed--plain autograph, or personalized)

SNEAK PREVIEW OF YOUR SCANDALOUS WAYS:

Michelle Buonofiglio over at Romance B(u)y the Book is offering a sneak preview of Loretta's next book, Your Scandalous Ways, to be released in June of 2008.  Loretta would love for Wench readers to get a sneak peek, too. You can read the excerpt by clicking this link:  http://tinyurl.com/3ylu3r  And here's a bonus:  a sneak peek at the gorgeous cover:

Dr. Josh on Historical Ailments

Susan Sarah here, turning the blog over to Dr. Josh, who will look at common diseases in history -- a useful subject for writers and readers of historical fiction... be warned in advance that Dr. J's blogs are not for the squeamish!

Dr. Josh sez...  In the holiday spirit, I'll discuss the disease historically known as consumption, and two diseases of behavior, gout and lead poisoning. The mention of "holiday" might strike you as odd, but perhaps it will make sense by the end of this column. The last two, particularly, had a propensity to be brought on by the revels and heavy meals of nobility in days gone by; the first just infected everyone.

CONSUMPTION, a name prompted by the progressive weight loss seen in the disease, has been around since early antiquity. One theory holds that it was due to milk drinking and cattle herding -- the bacterium causing consumption is thought to be a mutated version of a less infective bacterium that afflicts cattle. Two billion people worldwide are infected, and although only roughly 5% of these people have symptoms, the disease has been responsible for more death due to infection than any other. It has been demonized and romanticized throughout history.

Today consumption is called tuberculosis, and it is largely eliminated (though it's beginning to make a comeback). We treat it with long courses of antibiotics, and a therapy first championed 150 years ago, isolation from public places while disease is active. A person with consumption in an earlier century might be taken to the king--it was one of the diseases known as "king's evil," and it was believed that the touch of a newly crowned king would cure neck swellings caused by tuberculosis. British kings traced the power back to King Edward the Confessor, and in England--perhaps being more socially progressive--the king's touch was also attributed to queens as well. The disease profoundly affected society, given its frequency in every century but the last, and its relentless course without treatment. Other possible causes of consumption could have been certain cancers, but TB is the main culprit.

The Victorians romanticized it, turning a scourge into a kind of poisoned blessing. Spes phthisica, or "hope of the consumptive," a term batted around then, refers to a supposed feeling of euphoria brought on by end-stage consumption, accompanied by spurts of creative energy and even physical attractiveness. But that was the diametric opposite of what people with advanced tuberculosis suffered. Largely due to public health improvements (and antibiotic therapy), tuberculosis has greatly diminished in the U.S. and most developed countries. Historically, however, it holds no peer.

GOUT. While people may have been scared silly by consumption, they were less alarmed by the "disease of kings." Gout is characterized by deposition of uric acid, a breakdown of digestion of DNA, into joints and occasionally other areas of the body, leading to an intensely painful arthritis. Now we have a number of quite effective treatments for gout, but that was not the case for thousands of years. Gout is unique in that, while many have a genetic predisposition to developing it, it is most common when the diet is high in rich, fatty foods (like organ meats washed down with heavy beer) -- the sort of feast a discerning noble might have.

King Charles V, Holy Roman Emperor and King of Spain in the 16th century, became a celebrity in the medical world when Spanish doctors analyzed his pinky bone and confirmed the historical accounts of his raging, uncontrollable arthritis pain: gout. Its name is Latin for "drop," referring to an imbalance in one of the four humours defined by Galen (and by medical practitioners for 1500 years after him). The Arabs and Greeks used the herb autumn crocus for centuries to treat gout; later it was found to contain the anti-inflammatory colchicine, a key medication used today to treat gout. As dietary patterns shifted, gout became less prevalent, and once its cause was better understood, it became treatable. Ironically, it has now become a disease of the underprivileged.

LEAD POISONING is intricately connected with gout. Lead has been used for centuries in munitions, solder, pewter, and paint -- but a lesser known use was as a sweetener. The Romans and medieval Europeans used lead acetate to sweeten wine (as a side note, children often eat lead paint because it tastes sweet) --and to make matters worse, they drank this wine from lead-containing pewter cups. Lead poisoning has a variety of effects, among them chronic brain injury and dementia. Some authors in the medical community suggest lead poisoning as a factor in the decline of the Roman Empire. A peculiarly severe form of gout is called "saturnine gout," stemming from the association of the Roman god Saturn with lead. Lead toxicity causes the kidneys to excrete less uric acid, resulting in more retention and deposition of uric acid -- and therefore, gout.

  So what is the holiday message in all this?  Well... consider the rich meals of the holiday season carefully before you indulge. Over time, you could join the ranks of the nobility in a way you don't want to!  More importantly, please remember the millions around the globe afflicted with lead in their environment, and the billions who are exposed to TB. If you are so inclined, the many fine organizations dedicated to helping these people would welcome holiday donations. 

Safe and happy holidays,

Joshua King, M.D.

Yes, Virginia, there is a chicken

From Loretta:

Christine wins a signed copy of Lord of Scoundrels because I thought her question would be fun to look into:
<<Well, I don't know if it is a suggestion or not, but  am always curious about where inspiration comes from.  Does it come from music, or out of the blue?
Also, my sister mentioned that chicken was not eaten until perhaps Victorian times.  Now while I don't remember meals in general being mentioned in many books, but I'm certain I've seen chicken consumed in books - or maybe it was geese (surely chicken was eaten earlier than 100 or so years ago).  Don't know that that would make a good blog though.>>

I don’t know about the other Wenches but my inspiration comes from a desire to maintain a roof over my head and eat regular meals...which leads nicely to food, always an excellent subject for the blog.

Christine, I’d love to know where your sister got this idea.  Chicken has been around and has appeared on dining tables for centuries.

I consulted Reay Tannahill’s Food in History and found the following: (p. 38):  “The great Indus cities of Harappa and Mohenjo-Daro--at their peak between 2300BC and 1500BC....may even have begun on the domestication of the Indian jungle fowl, later to become the world’s ‘chicken.” 

On p. 88 Tannahill refers to an Apician (from an ancient Roman cookbook) recipe that “recommends saucing cold chicken with dill, mint, dates, vinegar, liquamen, oil, mustard, asafoetida and boiled-down grape juice.”  Liquamen, according to the OED, is “the name of a kind of fish sauce used by the ancient Romans.”  However, there seems to be some uncertainty as to whether the Latin of the recipe refers to chickens or guinea fowl.  AgTigress may wish to comment on this.

According to this book (p. 31) braised chicken is referred to in a third century BC poem “The Summons of the Soul.”

But on to Georgian and Regency times (18th & early 19th C).  From The Jane Austen Cookbook by Maggie Black & Dierdre Le Faye [my notes are in color in brackets]: 

“In July 1779 Miss Catherine Hutton dined with the Revd Mr Shuttleworth, the rector of Aston in Derbyshire” and here’s part of her account:  “At three o’clock we sat down to table, which was covered with salmon at top, fennel sauce to it, melted butter, lemon pickle and soy; at the bottom a loin of veal roasted; on one side kidney beans, on the other peas, and in the middle a hot pigeon pie with yolks of eggs in.  [This would be the first course, which might include five to twenty-five dishes].  To the kidney beans and peas succeeded ham and chickens, [second course--another five to twenty-five] and when everything was removed came a currant tart  [an intermediate dessert--one of these might be served after first course, as well]....After dinner we had water to wash [ in finger-bowls], and when the cloth was taken away, [the table cloth was removed and another cloth or the bare table lay beneath], gooseberries, currants and melon, wines and cyder” [for the dessert course].

Food & dining is an inexhaustible subject--not to mention fraught with peril, as is usually the case with historical matters.  Other sources explain the courses differently, for instance.  So I’ll limit myself to a couple of notes.  At this time, people dined à la Française:  The numerous dishes for the course were set on the table all at once.  You’d help yourself from the side dishes nearby.  If you wanted something from another part of the table, you’d have to ask for it or, if there were plenty of servants, you'd send one to fetch it for you.

Miss Hutton’s is one type of meal served to a certain group of people.  We need to keep in mind that what (not to mention what time) people ate depended on their class and how fashionable they were.

Still, lest we assume that the humble chicken was not presented to grander guests, here’s what Prince William of Gloucester saw when he sat down to dinner with the Dean of Canterbury on 25 August 1798:  “Fricando of veal, chickens, curry of rabbits soup, open tart syllabub, macaroni, baskets of pastry, salmon trout, soles, vegetable pudding, muffin pudding, three sweetbreads-larded, peas, potatoes, goose, raised giblet pie, ham, preserve of olives, haunch of venison, raised jelly, buttered lobster, custards.”

According to the 97-item menu reproduced in J.B. Priestley’s The Prince of Pleasure and His Regency, a dinner given by the Prince Regent in 1817 included La fricassee de poulets à l’Italienne; Les poulets à la reine, à la Chevry; Les petits poulets à l’Indienne; and Les poulets gras bardés.”

Another note:  While the wealthy had their greenhouses for growing exotic or tender fruits and vegetables, food generally tended to be locally produced and seasonable, as The Jane Austen Cookbook notes (p. 16.):  “Nearly all housewives in the country kept their own poultry yard, which would yield the eggs and meat from turkeys, geese, ducks, chickens, guinea-fowl and perhaps some hand-reared pheasants.”

The illustration of a cottager feeding poultry is from W.H. Pyne’s Picturesque Views of Rural Occupations in Early Nineteenth Century England.  The first version of this book was published in 1808.

  So, yes, Virginia, there is a chicken, well before Queen Victoria's time.

These are Rhode Island Reds, which belonged to a friend of mine.  The chickens above are historically accurate poultry from Old Sturbridge Village in Sturbridge, MA.

Ask a question or make a comment and you might win a copy of Lord of Scoundrels.   It's the holiday season, after all.

Surprises

Jo here wondering about surprises and discoveries about history. We certainly don't know everything about any time, even if we feel as if we've researched it down to the tiniest detail.

The Regency period is particularly ripe for that being so short -- a decade, give or take. Given 20 years plus (the time I've been actively researching the period) you'd think we'd know it all, but no. There are the mysteries, such as exactly how a ball was organized and exactly how they did the waltz when, and then the things we stumble across that completely surprise us.

I have a blog where I toss down the strange things I come across while researching. A while ago I posted something a little unusual about coach travel, and someone left a detailed description along with a picture. You can read that here. Basically it's a coach with compartments. Now this description is on the Continent, but Louis Simond records the same thing in England in the Regency period.

This is one of these huh? items, because that's the only such record as best I know. I've read a lot of books on travel and visited museums of transportation etc and never seen such a vehicle in England. So, did Simond confuse England and France? Or have we just not found the corroborating evidence yet?

The picture of the sedan chair is just for the heck of it, but I do find them a neglected form of transport in novels. They could be very convenient in crowded city streets, and they also could be brought into the building at each end so the use was not exposed to the weather. My hero, Robin, in A Lady's Secret, uses one a couple of times because he has a wounded leg, but it was the normal way to get to court because the chairmen would be armed and armed footmen would go as escort. All those jewels, you know.

Have you come across things in books that surprised you? (And that were true, of course.)

Have you stumbled across bit of research that surprised or startled you?

What about the strange bit here Casanova on highway robbery. It seems shooting a highwayman could get you hanged. Good job Vidal didn't know that!

Or an early 19th century book on torpedo warfare. Torpedo War .

Or, look at this snippet view of trades in 18th century Sheffield. (Which I happened to be researching for the MIP.) Trades in Sheffield.  Any there surprise or mystify you? I'm not entirely sure what a horn turner produced, but it's nice to know there was a bowling green.

Share your surprises.

I'm just going over the copy edited manuscript of A Lady's Secret and discovered there that Shanks' pony is just that. I'd written Shank's pony and the c-e corrected it. I checked, and there it is. But I don't know yet who Shanks was.

Oh, and I did send a newsletter out recently. Some of the news is already old, but it does have a wonderful panorama photograph that my husband took recently.

See newsletter here.

Jo :)

Upcoming Events

Back by popular demand!  Dr. Josh will be returning Friday, December 7, to blog about old time medicine, including a potpourri of common historical ailments like gout, lead poisoning, consumption, and more.

Jo will be doing a booksigning with other romance authors at Chapters on Douglas Street in Victoria, British Columbia, Canada, on Saturday, December 8 from 1-3 p.m.  If you live in the area, stop by Jo's table and say "Hi!"

Mary Jo will be signing books Sunday, December 9 at the "Read Between the Wines” benefit for Annapolis Symphony Orchestra, 2-5 p.m. in the Atrium of Lowes Annapolis hotel. Now there's a great combination:  books and wine!

You've heard of "business casual."  Well, this month we've declared December Casual!  We'll be taking a relaxed approach to blogging, with riffs on holiday food, family traditions, recipe sharing, and anything else that strikes our fancy.  We'll each be giving away a book (that's 7 books!), chosen from those who leave comments, so be sure to put in your two cents worth!

And remember, if you'd like to see us blog about a particular subject, send a message to our Whipster, Sherrie, at [email protected].  If your suggestion is chosen, you'll win an autographed book!