Yankie doodle dainties
AS IT is the Fourth of July week I think we should have a few American receipts to remind us how independent they are. We are so inundated with all those Hamburger places and fried chicken joints that the real old American dishes never seem to appear anywhere. We all know about Boston; the home of the bean and the cod; but have you ever tried real Boston baked beans? I have never found them on a menu here and it is a truly great dish far removed from the ubiquitous Heinz. It takes a lot of cooking so if you have an Aga it would be the ideal stove but we who haven't can do perfectly well without.
Boston baked beans
1 lb small dried haricot beans 3/4 lb salted pork in a piece, or fat unsmoked bacon 4 oz molasses or black treacle 1/2 teaspoon dry mustard 1/2 teaspoon paprika 1 minced shallot or tiny onion
Put the beans in quite a large bowl to soak overnight or day whichever suits you best. Drain off the water, transfer the beans to a saucepan and cover with fresh water; bring to the boil and simmer gently for an hour. If you let them boil wildly they will break up and burst. Drain the beans through a sieve but keep the water they have cooked in. Place a 1/4 pound piece of the pork in the bottom of an earthenware casserole, pour the beans over it. Score the rest of the pork deeply and bury it in the centre. Mix the molasses with an equal amount of the bean water, the mustard, paprika and minced onion. Pour this mix- ture over the beans nudging them carefully with a light spatula to let the juice pene- trate to every nook and cranny. Cover the pot and bake in a slow oven 300 F. 149 C. Gas 1-2 for six hours. Every hour add a little of the bean water again nudging the beans gently so that the water will get to the bottom. The water should always be on a level with the beans. For the last hour of cooking remove the lid so that the top gets crispy and brown.
I once ate a terrific Gumbo Creole in Washington made by no less a person than Admiral Roscoe Schuirmann, commonly known as Dinky. He was very proud of this accomplishment, and it was very delicious in taste, full of plump prawns and oysters, but it also had a lot of okra or lady's fingers in it which spoilt it as far as I was concerned. I don't care for that slimy goo it produces, like finding boiled slugs in a cabbage, so I shall play safe with: Manhattan clam chowder 1 dozen large clams 1/4 lb salt pork
1 large Spanish onion 1 leek 2 medium potatoes 4 tomatoes skinned and chopped 1 stick of celery 1 green sweet pepper 1/2 teaspoon of thyme 1/2 teaspoon caraway seed 1 bay leaf
2 pints of water
Clams are available now in good fish- mongers but I suppose you could use cockles instead or even tinned clams which have quite a good flavour. Anyhow, put the clams in a heavy saucepan, steam them wide open over a medium heat. Cut the clams into little pieces and keep the juices from the pan. Chop the pork into little dice, cook them in a pan until the fat is melting, add the chopped onion and finely sliced leek, continue cooking until lightly browned, then add the potatoes, pepper, celery, all chopped into dice, the thyme and the bay leaf and finally the water and the clam juices. Bring to the boil then simmer gently for 30 minutes. Season with ground salt and pepper, add the clams and the caraway seed and cook for a further five minutes. Serve very hot in bowls and have some of those little hard oyster biscuits to hand.
Cranberries couldn't be more American, eaten by the Red Indians in their pemmi- can cakes long before the whites arrived. They are now easily found here through the good offices of the 'Ocean Spray' people. I particularly like the sharpness of their flavour and they make their own delicious sauce. This one has orange in it and is very good with ham and game as well as the old turkey.
Cranberry and orange sauce Wash 1 lb of cranberries, put in a sauce- pan with 10 oz of soft brown sugar, a teaspoon of mixed spice, the juice and rind of one orange (cut the finely pared rind into thin strips). Bring gently to the boil giving it the odd stir, simmer until thick and pulpy, about 20 minutes. Leave to cool, eat at will.
Jennifer Paterson
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