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CREAM OF BROAD BEANS (1940s)

Due to a wrist injury, I haven't been able to make many of the Tasting History recipes I have backlogged here. Instead, I decided to make one of the simple recipes from a different historical cookbook I own: Cream of Broad Beans from Churchill's Cookbook by Georgina Landemare. Although published in 2015, this book contains over 300 recipes from the 1940s which were served to Winston Churchill (Prime Minister at that time) and his family during the challenging days of World War II in Britain. The author, Georgina Landemare, was actually his personal cook during these years. Before this, she had been a celebrity cook of her day, cooking decadent feasts for England's nobility. At the outbreak of World War II, she offered her cooking services to the Prime Minister and his family as her own 'war work'. Known for being quite the fan of a sumptuous meal, Winston Churchill claimed he could not have managed wartime without her. The cookbook of Landemare's recipes from the war years working for Winston Churchill was finally published in 2015, for the 50th anniversary of Churchill's death and the 70th anniversary of VE Day. Landemare shares recipes for cakes, biscuits, puddings, salads, soups, breakfasts, and fancy dinners, making it possible to imagine what fuelled the Prime Minister as he made decisions for the country in the face of war. I chose to make this simple Cream of Broad Beans recipe first from this book, in part due to its simplicity in a time of rationing (Churchill's family also dealt with rationing, but were able to secure a few special ingredients sometimes thanks to connections). In addition, after a quick Google, I discovered that there don't seem to be very many recipes for this online, meaning it might be one of those dishes that fell out of fashion and could do with a rediscovery. We will see if it tastes good enough to warrant that! See the ingredients and process at the end of this post.

My experience making it:

Since I only want to end up with two portions instead of the four this recipe makes, I halved the recipe so that I would end up with a portion each for my husband and me. I realize the broad beans called for could mean the green edamame type of bean or the large white broad beans, so I first had to make a decision on what Landemare intended for this dish. I decided she meant the white broad beans (Riesenbohnen in Germany), because I can't imagine edamame would mash up very well or taste very good mixed with milk. I may well be wrong! Also, I interpreted Landemare's 'seasoning' as salt and pepper, the simplest, most common, and easier to secure in wartime. Because the recipe's directions are short and to the point, there are some things I think she just assumes will be done without needing to mention it in the recipe. I will mention the liberties I take in method in this regard.

To begin, I measured everything out; chopped the onions, parsley, and sage; and strained and rinsed the broad beans. I melted the butter in a large frying pan (which ended up being only just large enough!), then added in the onions. I fried them on medium heat until they were a light brown colour, then turned the heat down and added in (in this order) the broad beans, parsley, sage, and milk. I set a timer for 45 minutes and let the contents simmer for this time, stirring periodically. It looked like a hearty, creamy soup full of herbs, and it certainly smelled like one - heavenly! In the meantime, I prepared some broccolini and garlic bread triangles to accompany our broad bean dish. As the broad beans were nearing the end of their simmer time, I tested one with a fork to find they were getting quite mushy. Although this is not mentioned in the recipe, I thought it would be best to mash the beans before the sieving step, as I knew this would make the sieving process much easier and also be less taxing on my wounded wrist. So, I used a potato masher to lightly mash the beans while they were still in the frying pan (this provided a nice flat surface). It was beginning to look a bit thicker now! Next, I transferred the contents of the frying pan in batches into the sieve, pressing them with a spoon so that the purée could trickle down into the pot below. I think I ended up sieving the contents in four separate parts, setting aside the solids in a bowl each time (I kept these to eat cold as leftovers the next day, and they were great!). Now left with what looked like a milky soup in the pot, with just a couple speckles of chopped parsley and sage floating in it, I put the pot on the stove on medium heat. I gave it a stir, noticing that while there was certainly a bit of a grainy texture that the beans had added, it was still very much a soup with the consistency of milk. Since the texture was much thinner than I expected, I hoped that all that time simmering had at least imparted some flavour of onion and herb! Once the pot was boiling, I turned off the heat, stirred in a splash of cream (she doesn't say how much, so I assumed it was a splash), and added just a couple grinds of salt and pepper. I ladled the Cream of Broad Beans out into bowls and sprinkled some parsley on top. It really did seem to be a soup! I don't know why, but I had assumed it would look like some kind of bean-based mashed potato-looking dish, thick and stodgy. Boy, was I wrong!

My experience tasting it:

My husband and I tried our first spoonfuls of Cream of Broad Bean (Soup), and we were very pleasantly surprised by how tasty it was! I can't say either of us are massive fans of beans, but they really did taste wonderful with a creamy texture. While the milk, cream, and butter made for a silky texture, the beans brought a slight granularity that made the texture interesting and a little more hearty. However, more than the texture, the flavour was the best part about this dish. It tasted wonderfully buttery, with the perfect balance of saltiness and sweetness from the onion. The herby flavour of sage was front and centre, supported faithfully by the parsley. The Cream of Broad Beans was so good, I was literally licking the bowl clean at the end (I would only do this in my own house, I promise!). Not only will I make this again, but I would love to add it to my fall and winter recipe rotation. You could probably simplify this recipe using modern equipment like a blender or food processor, thereby allowing you to incorporate the solids that became leftovers into the main soup. This would give you even more nutrients and a little more textural interest. I can't wait to make this recipe again in cooler weather, because it is an absolute star of a dish. It tastes homey, natural, delicate, and like it should indeed be served to the Prime Minister of England. If you end up making this dish, if you liked it, or if you changed anything from the original recipe, do let me know!

Churchill's Cream of Broad Beans original recipe (1940s)

Sourced from a recipe in Churchill's Cookbook by Georgina Landemare (2015).

Cream of Broad Beans For four people 1 pint shelled broad beans; 2 onions; 4 parsley sprigs; 4 sage leaves; 1 1/2 pints of milk; 1 oz butter; cream and seasoning. Fry onions in butter, add the beans, parsley, sage and milk. Cook slowly for 3/4 hour. Pass through a fine sieve. Replace the purée in a saucepan and bring to the boil. Add a little cream and sprinkle with chopped parsley before serving.

Modern Recipe

Based on a recipe in Churchill's Cookbook by Georgina Landemare (2015) and Max Miller’s version in his Tasting History video.

Ingredients:

2 cans (480 g) shelled broad beans

2 onions, diced

4 parsley sprigs, chopped fine

4 sage leaves, chopped fine

1.5 pints (710 mL) milk

1 oz (30 g) butter

splash of cream

salt and pepper, to taste

Method:

Melt butter in a large, deep frying pan on medium heat. Add in the onions and fry until lightly brown.

After straining and rinsing the beans under cold water, add them to the pan, then add the parsley, sage, and milk.

Once the milk begins to steam and bubble a bit, turn the heat down to low so that the pan is lightly simmering. Simmer for 45 minutes, stirring periodically to make sure the milk does not burn or develop a skin.

Once the 45 minutes has passed, the beans should be cooked through and fairly mushy. To make the next step of sieving easier, mash the beans lightly in the pan with a potato masher and stir.

Lay a fine sieve over a pot and spoon the contents of the frying pan in, in parts. With a spoon, press through the sieve. Repeat until contents of the frying pan have all been put through the sieve.

Set the solids aside (this can be eaten on its own as leftovers!), and set the pot of creamed broad beans back over the stove on medium low heat. Slowly bring to a boil.

Once boiling, turn off the heat, stir in a splash of cream, and season to taste with salt and pepper.

BAGUIO SKIN COCKTAIL (1939)

After a bit of a hiatus due to my own mental and physical struggles during the several heatwaves this summer in Germany, I return to celebrate my birthday with cupcakes and a cocktail from The Gentleman’s Companion: Being an Exotic Drinking Book, Or, Around the World with Jigger, Beaker, and Flask (published in 1939) by Charles Henry Baker Jr.. I opted to make a cocktail in this book called the Baguio Skin, which the author and his friends first tried at the hill station of Baguio in the Philippines to escape the heat of Manila. I, also looking to escape the heat, was drawn to this cocktail because of how simple it is to make: it has very few ingredients, and all of them are quite common to keep stocked on a bar cart. As Baker explains, Baguio was established as a hill station - which is a hill town founded by colonial forces to escape summer heat - for the US military and officials seeking refuge from the heat of Manila, in the Philippines. They retreated to the cooler mountains of Luzon, where they would play golf and visit the Country Club, which is where Baker and Co. tried this cocktail for the first time. So, it is now clear why Baguio is in the name, but what about the 'Skin' part? Strangely, 'skins' were traditionally hot alcoholic drinks which included a spirit, hot water, citrus peel, and sugar, similar to a toddy or punch. It seems the recipe for the Baguio Skin includes several of these components, but is instead served cold - how interesting! I wonder if this concoction would also taste good served hot in the winter? If you'd like to experiment for yourself, see the ingredients and process at the end of this post, sourced from Charles Henry Baker Jr.’s book.

My experience making it:

We are lucky that not only do the instructions for the Baguio Skin cocktail give us an exact brand of rum to use, but that exact brand still exists today and is easily available for purchase! I used the called-for Bacardi Carta Oro rum, Angostura orange bitters, and lime slices, then I grated the nutmeg fresh myself.

I began by slicing the limes nice and fine, so they would be ready to add later. Since I was making the cocktail for my husband and I, I got out two tall-stemmed wine glasses; I would be making each cocktail in its own glass. First, I added a teaspoon of sugar to each wine glass. The original recipe then calls for a 'trifle' of water. I couldn't seem to find anything online about what this measurement was, but based on the directions, it looked like Baker intended for us to make a kind of simple syrup (very sugary water used in most bars). Luckily, I have lots of experience making simple syrup in large quantities from previous jobs I have had. Usually, we would make it with the ratio of one part sugar to one part hot water. Since this cocktail is meant to be served cold, I used cold water instead with this same ratio. Using cold water just means that you have to stir the sugar into the water longer before it all dissolves properly. I therefore added about a teaspoon of cold water and stirred vigorously for a few minutes per glass until the sugar granules had disappeared. Next, I added a dash of Angostura orange bitters into each glass, then laid two thin slices of lime in each. I popped exactly three ice cubes into each glass, poured in the rum, then gave each glass a brisk stir. The cocktail was now a moody brown colour, and the glass was beginning to get frosty from the ice. I grated some fresh nutmeg on top, but it was kind of hard to do this neatly, without getting nutmeg on the sides. The cocktails were ready to serve! They looked very icy and refreshing, but also kind of like a kid had made them due to the nutmeg that was visible above the liquid line in the glasses. The Baguio Skin looked a bit like a mystery drink I used to make when being naughty and impatient at a restaurant as a kid: a bit of cola, a lime from someone's cocktail rim, sugar, salt, and pepper. I hoped this cocktail would taste better than its name and its lookalike!

My experience tasting it:

I served the Baguio Skin cocktails with some birthday cupcakes post-dinner. On first sip, we were mainly grateful for the icy cold sensation on this hot day. Pure relief! Then, the flavour began to come through. This is a rum-heavy cocktail, so I was worried it was going to taste very alcoholic. However, the ice, sugar, lime, and orange bitters had done wonders to soften the alcohol taste from the rum, leaving a lightly sweet taste of rum behind. You could taste the rum, of course, but it didn't punch you. The most interesting part of this drink was actually the nutmeg. Before each sip, its fragrant smell would waft upward, lending a really pleasant spice to each sip before the cocktail even touched your tongue. You could taste it a little too, but its effect was primarily olfactory, turning the cocktail experience into a sensory delight. The lime did not add too much sourness, and I think its main purpose was there to balance the sweetness of the other ingredients. The orange bitters too, perhaps. As we enjoyed our cocktails, I couldn't help but notice that the drink was becoming more flavourful and even a bit more orangey in taste toward the bottom. I wondered if the orange bitters, or maybe even the lime, had remained near the bottom, imparting much more flavour there, beneath the ice. This had the effect of making the last several sips, which typically taste quite watery due to melting ice, very bright and full of flavour, leaving us on a high note. What a wonderful way to finish the cocktail! Overall, I was pleasantly surprised by this cocktail. Yes, it was simple and not the prettiest to look at, but it had refreshed us well and tasted good while doing it. I will definitely be adding this cocktail to my recipe book, since it is always good to have a couple easy, tasty cocktail recipes on hand in a pinch. If you end up making this drink, if you liked it, or if you changed anything from the original recipe, do let me know!

Baguio Skin original recipe (1939)

Sourced from The Gentleman’s Companion: Being an Exotic Drinking Book, Or, Around the World with Jigger, Beaker, and Flask by Charles Henry Baker Jr. (1939).

THE BAGUIO SKIN, being a Very Simple yet Very Unusual Exotic from Our Beautiful Hill Station away up in the Igorote Country among the High Mountains of Luzon Baguio happens to be the world's first and only planned hill station, beautifully laid out by Cameron Forbes, Beside it the Topsy-like British India hill stations at Mussoorie, Gulmarg, and Simla - that "jest growed" - are straggling, casual affairs with no organization or scenic plan other than that endowed by an ever-generous Almighty. Baguio is the summer, rainy season retreat of civil and military Manila. We found this drink there, 7000 feet up, sitting before an open fire at the Country Club, looking out through the windows while the cloud slowly came down and tucked the 18th fairway under its wing. In a tall-stemmed wineglass put 1 tsp of sugar dissolved in a trifle of water; then 1 dash or so of orange bitters. On top of this place 2 thin slices of green lime - or lemon - 3 ice cubes, and then add 2 ponies of Carta de Oro Bacardi. Stir briskly with a bar spoon and serve as-is, with a final dusting of grated nutmeg on top. We consider this one of the finest possible, and find that 1 pair of orange or jasmine blossoms starred in each glass lends the true tropical, the fragrant, touch that guests like.

Modern Recipe

Based on the recipe from The Gentleman’s Companion: Being an Exotic Drinking Book, Or, Around the World with Jigger, Beaker, and Flask by Charles Henry Baker Jr. (1939).

Ingredients:

3 ice cubes

1 1/4 jiggers (1.7 oz/50 ml) Bacardi Carta Oro rum

1 tsp sugar*

3 tsp water

2 thin lime (or lemon) slices

1 dash orange bitters

sprinkle of grated nutmeg

*Instead of the sugar and water, you can also use 4 tsp simple syrup

Method:

Add sugar to a tall-stemmed wine glass.

Pour in water and stir sugar into it until completely dissolved.

Add a dash or so of orange bitters.

Place two thin slices of lime (or lemon) in the glass, then 3 ice cubes.

Pour in the rum and stir briskly with a bar spoon.

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