American Cake - Cake #1: American Gingerbread

Time Period: 1650-1799

As a wise woman once sang, let's start at the very beginning, a very good place to start. The first cake I tackled for The American Cake Project was American Gingerbread, which is the very first recipe in the book.

I have to confess, though, that I didn't (just) make this first because it's the earliest chronologically. Gingerbread is also very seasonably appropriate in early December, and honestly, the directions, ingredients, and necessary equipment is a lot simpler than it is for a lot of the later, fancier cakes.

And that makes sense. At this point in history, Americans had extremely limited access to ingredients, and home kitchens with bake ovens were just coming into existence. Traditional sweeteners were tough to acquire, and if a colonist wanted to leaven a cake, they'd have to use a yeast culture imported from Europe.

Things changed when potash was discovered. Don't ask me how people figured this out, but it turns out that when trees were cleared and burned, the resulting ash, when combined with sour milk or molasses, produced carbon dioxide bubbles that could raise a cake. Potash became a forerunner of baking soda, and using molasses was a lot cheaper than using honey or sugar, so a cakey version of gingerbread was born.

Used as a stomach settler in the 17th century, gingerbread caught on quickly. People assumed the molasses had health benefits, though it's far more likely that the ginger was the major contributor. The spices also helped cover up the flavor of the potash, which was decidedly not tasty.

In 1796, Amelia Simmons wrote the first American cookbook, called American Cookery. It included recipes for roasts, soups, breads, and desserts, and had no fewer than seven different preparations described for gingerbread. Though most of the gingerbread referred to the hard dough used for cookies, the cake version was mentioned as well. Simmons' recipes don't translate well to the modern era, but Byrn combined, then adapted the colonial recipes into a modern version of this uniquely American cake.

Gingerbread is classic for a reason. I've liked it since I was a kid, and this recipe is possibly one of the best I've ever encountered. Sweet, but not too sweet, with a good punch of spice, this version of American Gingerbread will likely be filed away as my standard. I'm sure a lot of the upcoming complex cakes will have charms of their own, of course, but gingerbread is comforting and reliable, and will always sit atop my list of welcome desserts.

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American Plate - Bite #22: Doughnuts, Waffles, and Cookies

The Bites in this project roughly split into two origins: Native Americans and immigrants. The natives contributed things like maize and venison, while immigrants brought over wonderful things like tostadas and sushi.

For today's entry, we must thank the Dutch that founded the region around New Amsterdam in current day New York. Though they didn't invent these sweets, one could make a strong argument that they perfected them. Cookies wouldn't be what they are today if the Dutch hadn't infused them with the spices they controlled, and the tradition of shaped cookies served at the holidays come directly from their tradition of pressing the dough into molds.

They brought waffle irons to the colonies, putting them on long rods to hold over a fire, and conceiving countless recipes, incorporating the waffles into dishes both savory and sweet. Everything from the caramel goodness of a stroopwafel to the hearty mixture of waffles with chicken and onion can be attributed to Dutch settlers.

The Dutch also elevated the humble doughnut, dropping balls of stiff batter into pork lard to fry. Originally, they were called "oleykoeks" (oil cakes), and were dusted with sugar and cinnamon. Modern doughnuts with holes arose about two hundred years later.

Today, all three of these goodies are in heavy rotation. Cookies are the only one I really make often at home, but there are plenty of businesses anxious to satisfy the American sweet tooth with these concoctions. The doughnut shop near me serves them with all sorts of interesting toppings, like chocolate heated with Mexican spices or blueberry cheesecake. The cookies pictured come from a store that will deliver them late at night to hungry customers who don't want to venture out (read: drunks with the munchies). The waffles are of a now-departed restaurant that served them both sweet and savory. They got topped with everything from cheese to banana/chocolate to salted honey mustard to barbecued brisket.

When people think "dessert", it's natural for our minds to drift to things like cake or ice cream, but this trio forms an iconic backbone of American eating, and many thanks to Holland for that. Proost!

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American Plate - Bite #98: American Cheese

The reputation of a lot of American food is less than sterling. People love to look down their noses at certain foods, and when I say the phrase "American cheese", I can bet that a certain image comes to mind. It can be tough for American cheese to instill the same respect as far as influencing our national cuisine as something traditional like maize, or even ice cream can do. Still, American cheese is woven into the fabric of our nation in myriad ways. Not only is it a symbol of food engineering, but of political policy and the resurgence of a more rustic food movement.

It took hold in this country the same way a lot of other foods did: It was easy to store and resilient. What better way was there for a Plymouth pilgrim to keep milk over the long winter months than by eating it as cheese? It was just the calorie bomb hungry citizens needed. The plethora of grassland for grazing animals ensured that cheese was popular from the very beginning. There actually weren't that many steps between that and cheese so processed that it has to be called "cheese product".

Cheese was mostly made, bought, and sold as a farm product until 1851, when Jesse Williams and his son opened the first cheese factory. Its commercial use took off, and in 1916, James L. Kraft patented what came to be known as the Kraft American Single. The main customer was the military, but it was soon discovered that the public would eat it up, too. It melted well, and was produced more "cleanly" than farm cheese, so Americans were soon lining up to pay more for inferior cheese. This trend continued, culminating in the invention of Cheez Whiz in 1952, a product so full of additives that it doesn't contain an iota of actual cheese.

The reputation of American cheese was not improved in the 1970s, which saw the creation of the Dairy Price Support Program. Giving governmental assistance to dairy farmers led to a glut of cheese that was given out in the 1980s to needy families; hence the phrase "government cheese".

Things started to change with the uptick of interest in the culinary world. People began to remember the good ol' days of eating real cheese, and a new generation of higher class American cheeses started to appear. From Vermont cheddar to the goat cheeses of California, American cheese is now something discussed in the same circles as expensive wines.

I wanted to be sure to taste a range of what American cheese had to offer, so as you'll see in the picture above, I visited both ends of the spectrum: After snacking on a few slices of Kraft singles, I bought a wedge of some pretty expensive Humboldt Fog, which made my taste buds sing with happiness.

Though cheese is eaten all over the world, it has come to symbolize so many different things in American culture, from ethics in food production to a sense of socioeconomic status. It helped colonists survive the winter and helped poor Americans survive unemployment. It gives us a lot to think about as we spear a cube of Colby Jack with a toothpick.

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American Plate - Bite #44: The Rise of Thanksgiving

Are American schoolchildren still sold the myth of Thanksgiving? Are they still being taught that colonists took a break from ransacking land from and committing violence against the Native American population to sit down for a jolly meal together in 1621? I feel like the truth has caught on in the popular consciousness, and that Thanksgiving is celebrated in a far more modern context these days, which is all to the good.

Of course, a lot of time passed between the 1600s and now, so how did Thanksgiving really catch on? Celebrating it in late November is nothing new; having a post-harvest feast made all kinds of sense in our early agrarian society. However, the day of said feast was up to each individual governor. Such was life until the lead-up to the Civil War, when a ladies' magazine editor named Sarah Josepha Hale began to campaign to make Thanksgiving a national holiday, in part to help heal how divided and factional the nation had become. Good thing that doesn't happen anymore!

Hale got her wish in 1863, when Abraham Lincoln cemented Thanksgiving into the American calendar. The North took to it immediately. It was a celebration not only of bounty, but of a rapidly expanding economy. Though the war was far from decided, they were feeling pretty good about themselves, and Thanksgiving helped commemorate that. The South turned their nose up at Thanksgiving, associating it with Northern politics. They weren't entirely wrong; there was a huge push in the North to bring Thanksgiving to all the Union fighters, and masses of food were sent by civilians to keep the soldiers' spirits up.

After the war, Thanksgiving continued its spread across all of the states, until it became the bedrock of autumnal American holidays. History is still being made with Thanksgiving, as the plight of Native American populations has become part of the national discussion, and the feast has become more about recognizing our own personal gratitude than anything having to do with patriotic avowals. It's even spreading beyond the family circle, as "Friendsgivings" have continued to gain popularity.

My own Thanksgivings vary wildly. Sometimes, it's a large family gathering. Sometimes, it's a small dinner for two. Sometimes, it's dinner out at a restaurant serving a Thanksgiving meal. It's definitely one of my favorite meals of the year, and not just because it's laden with symbolism and history. It's simply got some of the best culinary components available. Roast turkey? Delicious! Stuffing? Delicious! Corn casserole? Delicious! Green beans? Delicious! Pumpkin pie? Delicious! Cranberries? Those...exist, too!

This year, there was an incredibly wide range of eating, as you can tell from the pictures. First, there was a traditional-type meal at my mom's house. Turkey, stuffing, etc. I made the pecan pie pictured, and did so without using the usual drum of corn syrup. This one used large quantities of eggs as a binder, and as a result, was a much nuttier pie that didn't reek of sweetness. I liked it! You can see that we also have a strange little family tradition in that we have fried oysters on Thanksgiving. I've never heard of anyone else doing that, but I'm certainly not complaining.

The weekend after the main holiday brought two Friendsgivings. The first one featured a fascinating concoction called a meatcake, which you can see above. A cake made of meat that's "frosted" with mashed potatoes? Yes, please! The second Friendsgiving eschewed American tradition by skewing Mexican, including olive-topped enchiladas, carnitas, and my sinful sopapilla cheesecake bars. The holiday obviously has a lot of significance, and not just for family gatherings. It's a time to express gratitude for all that I have, of course, but it's also the time of year to celebrate friendships and to experiment with fun recipes, both of which I cherish.

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American Plate - Bite #89: McDonald's

Of all the Bites of this project, there may not be one as controversial as McDonald's, and as such, may not be one so quintessentially American. This country certainly likes to display both its benefits and detriments full-force, and McDonald's certainly encompasses both. Fast food has had a variety of reputations in American history, but its rise came right alongside the ascension of gourmet cooking. One was not a response to the other.

Brothers Dick and Mac McDonald opened their first restaurant in 1948, and the story of what happened to their business is pretty darned American as well. They set everything up. It was their idea to cook things in an assembly line fashion and to rigorously train their clean-cut employees in specializing in particular tasks. Once Dick designed the familiar golden arch logo, it wasn't long before they'd expanded to multiple franchises.

Their happiness was not to last. A salesman named Ray Kroc who sold them the milkshake mixers invested in their business, and bought it outright six years later. What the book glosses over is how much he screwed the McDonald brothers over in the process, the story of which is told by The Founder, a movie I keep meaning to get to.

Obviously, McDonald's has come a long way since then, expanding into a global phenomenon with specialized dishes in different regions. They've certainly had their share of public ups and downs. In the '80s, McDonald's was a godsend to beleaguered parents who just wanted something cheap and tasty to keep the kids happy, and the Happy Meal was a huge step towards ensuring brand loyalty early. Recently, though, examinations of McDonald's by things such as Fast Food Nation and Super Size Me have really hit the company in the pocketbook, and they've begun to struggle against competitors that tout healthier food.

O'Connell and I have a similar take on the matter, which is that McDonald's food may not be the healthiest thing on the planet, but it certain has a place in the American food landscape, and isn't a total blight. Admittedly, after reading Fast Food Nation, I only allow myself to eat at McDonald's once or twice a year (or on road trips), so those pics above were a rare treat for me. I also worked for a few years at McDonald's as a teen, and maintain that it taught me very valuable job skills; everyone should have to work at a service job like this when they're young.

On the occasions that I actually allow myself to indulge in McDonald's food, I'm always happy with the result. It's become fashionable to bash on them, but in my mind, there's nothing wrong with a good ol' fashioned Quarter Pounder with Cheese, with some of those iconic fries on the side. And when it comes to breakfast, there may not be a breakfast sandwich on Earth that can compete with a Bacon, Egg, and Cheese. Is it good for me? Hell, no. But I had one anyway, because that's what being American is all about.

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American Plate - Bite #39: Mint Juleps

A lot of the foods and drinks in this project are things I couldn't wait to get to. Yay, I get to dive face-first into a bunch of pizza or sushi or barbecue! This is the first Bite (or Sip, really) that I was a little reluctant to get to. I'm in the minority on that one; most people have nothing but nice things to say about mint juleps. The word julep is from the Persian word gulab, which means "rose-water", but connotes any refreshing drink.

They're made by mixing mint, water, confectioners' sugar, crushed ice, and bourbon. Often associated with the Kentucky Derby, mint juleps are a popular drink all throughout the spring and early summer, and not just when watching the ponies. The first record of an iced mint cocktail in America is from 1803, but it didn't take long to become more widespread. By 1820, distillers had already standardized the sour mash process in places like Bourbon Country, Kentucky, which is where the liquor takes its name from (it certainly sounds better than "corn whiskey").

Over the course of the 19th century, an influx of Scottish and Irish immigrants brought their distilling knowledge with them, and whiskey eventually replaced rum as America's favorite liquor. It packed a punch, and could be distilled locally, which eliminated the need to import or smuggle booze. Though mint juleps started out as a Southern cocktail, Senator Henry Clay is credited with introducing it to the high society folks in Washington, DC. From there, it joined the ranks of elegant drinks nationwide.

So why my reluctance? Well, two reasons. I don't really drink a lot of bourbon and I don't really eat a lot of mint. Bourbon tends to hit me pretty hard, so I have to try and take it easy. Mint is an ingrained prejudice, but one I'm slowly getting over. I still detest sweet mint dessert flavoring, so I'm that lone voice in the wild that disdains Thin Mints, mint ice cream, Peppermint Patties, grasshopper milkshakes, etc.

Fresh mint, though, is a lot more enjoyable. I tend to like it the most in savory dishes, but on an evening when a springtime rainstorm had just swept through, and my friend asked me to pick some mint from his garden in order to make these drinks, how could I resist?

So, what was the verdict? They were actually very tasty! I doubt I'd be able to drink a bunch of them without getting completely blitzed, but kicking back with a couple of them to while away a pleasant spring evening with friends was the perfect reintroduction to a drink I hadn't given much of a chance before.

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Research: The Brunch Backlash

We are always in the midst of a lot of shifting social conventions. You never know what aspect of society these shifts will affect, and in an odd twist of fate, the ostensibly simple concept of brunch has become a big target.

A target of what? You name it. Sometimes, it’s singled out as the purview of irresponsible people with nothing more productive to do with their time. Chefs are accused of using brunch as an excuse to peddle substandard food, and diners are accused of using brunch as an excuse to eat without the courtesies afforded to the other meals of the day (tipping, for example).

There’s also the big matter of race and class privilege. It's tough to articulate, and I’m finding it tough to land on a position in regards to protesters’ tactic of interrupting diners’ brunches in order to address issues such as police brutality. It’s definitely an issue worth addressing, and the activists have a point when they point out that brunch is a public gathering at which a lot of affluent people who feel unaffected by the conflict tend to gather. Getting their attention is precisely the goal. It’s just such a strange situation we find ourselves in, in which it’s considered safe to assume that someone who’s done nothing more than go out to eat waffles must either be uneducated or uncaring.

Even leaving that aside, brunch has been facing some tough critics lately, not least of which springs from an article in the New York Times, which proudly proclaimed that “Brunch Is for Jerks“. Lots of people jumped into the fray after that, complaining about the self-entitled hipsters who pat themselves on the back for being so awesome as they guzzle their bottomless mimosas. Or they wrote about how terrible brunch is for the poor, overworked service industry.

If you’re a fan of brunch, take heart. Defenders have started swinging back against the haters.

All of these overwrought articles have left me more puzzled than anything else. I’m neither smug with satisfaction that these brunch-eating jackasses are finally getting what’s coming to them, nor am I angry at the snarky writers taking aim at these innocent diners just trying to enjoy some eggs and a drink with friends. It’s more a wonder at just how symbolic brunch has become for highlighting so many American social issues.

Who knows how much further the battle will go? Perhaps “Bloody Mary” will take on a terrifyingly literal meaning as the war over brunch gets waged.

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