Week 4—Indian Pound Cake (c. 1851)

Source: Leslie, Eliza. "Indian Pound Cake." Recipe. Directions for Cookery in its Various Branches. Philadelphia: Henry Carey Baird, 1851, pp. 340-1. Book.

Considering the relatively basic cake recipe I used last week, I thought it'd be interesting to make another version—much like I did with the pudding recipes used in Weeks 1 and 2—but this time, one that existed on the other end of the metaphorical spectrum.

This recipe has the most ingredients out of any I've seen in my research so far, and is definitely the most intriguing. Outside of the white wine and brandy, the amount of nutmeg was surprising, and the amount of cinnamon seemed frankly overkill. Once I confirmed that all of these ingredients were accessible in Newfoundland around the 1840s, my interest was already enough to choose this recipe, and I set out to make another cake.

Wait, booze in a cake that old? Yes, indeed!

While many today are familiar with the Christmas puddings that use brandy or even the traditional rum or wine cakes, the practice of adding alcohol to baked goods is perhaps still much older than many would expect—some of the earliest Christmas pudding recipes, for example, originate from the 18th and 19th centuries. This cake, in particular, caught my attention because it seemed like a perfect opportunity to highlight this trend, as well as Newfoundland's extensive and fascinating history with alcohol.

In some of the first colonies on the island, water was thought (reasonably enough) not to be as dependable or safe as alcohol. The warm sensation that alcohol could cause through the chest was also seen by some as a thankful benefit that would help them get through the cold winters.

"...and that intollerable cold which is here, would make itt hard liveing with out strong drink..."

Source: Capt. Francis Wheler. Captain Francis Wheler, of H.M.S. Tiger, to William Blathwayt. Colonial State Papers, vol. 11. (Abingdon, Oxfordshire: Taylor & Francis Ltd., 1684), pp. 5.

This consumption of alcohol on the island, even at the start, was considered abnormal. In 17th-century England, wine was a middle-class luxury. For fishermen and women to have consumed it in Newfoundland only threw this expectation on its head.

Newfoundland had access to alcohol through various avenues. Ships returning to Newfoundland from trade with Portugal used port wine as ballast, replacing the weight of the Newfoundland cod fish. According to legend, wine intended for England was stored in Newfoundland following a pirate attack that sent a ship severely off-course. When Newfoundland faced issues with their fisheries, alcohol was a reliable product for trade and consumption, often to an "intolerable" extent.

"...they carry it to Barbadoes, T'is true their rum is verey pernitious to make the Planters, and Boate Keepers drink out all they are worth, to that intollerable degree in the winter, that t'is a shame..."

Source: Capt. Francis Wheler. Captain Francis Wheler, of H.M.S. Tiger, to William Blathwayt. Colonial State Papers, vol. 11. (Abingdon, Oxfordshire: Taylor & Francis Ltd., 1684), pp. 4.

By the 1830s, there was approximately one tavern for every 66 inhabitants in St. John's. In the 1840s, it was said that they could drink at least one bottle of port wine per person, per meal. For a cake like the one I made this week to thus include alcohol like wine and brandy, I feel that it reflects the historical preferences of Newfoundland at that time. It was still an undoubtedly expensive indulgence. But, much like I've explained previously, this was likely not a recipe that the ordinary citizen enjoyed frequently, if even at all, during the struggles of the 1840s. Instead, it is an important one representing a history that is still equally insightful as it further develops the scene of the era of Newfoundland that I've been studying.

Ingredients

• One pint (2 cups) of cornmeal

• Half of a pint (1 cup) of flour

• One fresh nutmeg, or two teaspoons of powdered nutmeg

• One tablespoon of powdered cinnamon

• Half a pound (2 cups) of powdered sugar

• Half a pound (1 cup) of butter, at room temperature

• One glass (~4.5 oz.) of white wine

• One glass (~1.5 oz.) of brandy

• Eight eggs

Note: I used a standard loaf pan for this cake, as that felt rather typical for a standard pound cake; Bundt pans are also commonly used, but the modern Bundt pan (inspired by the traditional Kugelhopf or Gudelhupf mould) was only invented in 1950, way after the time I am focusing on. So, a loaf pan felt right. I also took the recommended modern serving size of white wine and brandy to determine the measurement for "a glass," as noted in the recipe. But, since there's no real easy way to decide what would have been considered "a glass" back in 1851, you can judge yourself. These are just the measurements I used!

Method

1. Preheat an oven to 350°F. Prepare a loaf pan for baking.

2. Sift the cornmeal and flour together in a large bowl, then set aside.

3. Mix the butter and powdered sugar in a medium bowl until thoroughly combined, soft, and fluffy.

4. Add the nutmeg and cinnamon to the butter and sugar mixture, and add the glass of white wine and the brandy. Mix the entire mixture until thoroughly combined, then set aside.

5. In another bowl, whisk eight eggs together until light. I did not use an electric mixer for this step to remain as close to the 1851 recipe as possible. Still, I'm sure it would make this step much more straightforward—if not using an electric mixer, be prepared to mix hard by hand for a little while!

6. Pour the eggs into the spice, wine, and butter mixture and mix gently until combined. Then, mix that into the cornmeal and flour mixture from the start.

7. Once combined, pour the batter into the prepared loaf pan.

8. Bake for one hour. If you have a colder oven, it could be slightly longer, but mine took precisely one hour and seemed to have been done perfectly when I took it out.

9. Serve warm, with optional more powdered sugar sprinkled on top.

This is my favourite recipe we have made yet, although it certainly has an... interesting taste. My mother described it as "fragrant," while I found that you could still taste the brandy in it, leaving it with a "perfumey" taste even while I expected the nutmeg and cinnamon to be overpowering. (They weren't, surprisingly!) The powdered sugar formed a sort of sugar crust along the top and edges, so it was an interesting cake to try. Once you recognize the brandy taste of the cake, too, it wasn't a bad cake at all and tasted quite nice.