American as apple pie

Apples are not native to North America, so the Pilgrims wouldn’t have enjoyed apple pie in their first years in the New World. However, “planting apples orchards was among the first tasks the early settlers took,” writes Peter Wynne in his 1975 book Apples: History, Folklore, Horticulture, Gastronomy. Clergyman William Blaxton planted the first orchard in Massachusetts in 1625, Wynne notes, as well as the first orchard in Rhode Island in 1635. How far has the modern apple pie strayed from the early American version? Not very, it appears. The one ingredient missing from today’s apple pie is rose water. The first American cookbook, American Cookery, published in 1796, includes this recipe for apple pie:

Stew and strain the apples, to every three pints grate the peal of a fresh lemon, add cinnamon, mace, rose-water and sugar to your taste—and bake in paste . . .

My version doesn’t require stewing the apples in advance. It also eliminates the rose water, which isn’t readily available. Mace, the dried outer covering of nutmeg, is available in the spice section of most grocery stores, but if you can’t find it, substitute nutmeg.

Old-fashioned apple pie

Crust:

2 cups flour

pinch salt

1 stick cold butter, cubed

½ cup or so of ice water

Sift flour into a bowl, add a pinch of salt. Add butter and work in with pastry cutter. Add ice water slowly until dough holds together. Wrap in plastic and refrigerate until ready to roll.

Filling:

6 to 8 large apples, peeled and sliced

Zest of a lemon

½ cup sugar

Mace (or nutmeg) and cinnamon to taste

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Remove dough from refrigerator and divide. Roll out each section to fit a 9-inch pie plate. Gently place first round of pastry in pie plate. Do not stretch or press. Add filling. Top with second round of pastry. Roll edges under and crimp to seal. Make three slits in top of pie dough to vent steam. For a glossy crust, brush with milk, cream or egg wash. Sprinkle with coarse sugar, if desired. Bake for 40 minutes or more, until the crust is golden.

Eat like a Pilgrim this Thanksgiving

Some evidence exists of what the Pilgrims ate. Based on records left by William Bradford and others, historians have been able to piece together what the early settlers might have consumed. Here are two contemporary menus including foods that could have been on tables in 17^th-century Plymouth. According to historical documents, all ingredients listed here were available to the early colonists. Whether they would have put them together in this way is merely educated conjecture.

Early Thanksgiving Menu

Lobster stewe with corn bread or mussels seethed (steamed) in beer

Roasted turkie , goose or venison with sauce of crane berries (cranberries)

Stewed pompion (pumpkin)

Rocket sallet (arugula salad)

 Indian pudding, crane berry slump

Ale, cider

True lobster stew

Several years ago I enjoyed an old-fashioned lobster stew on Mount Desert Island in Maine. Unlike the thick lobster bisque served in restaurants, this stew was thin and chock full of large chunks of lobster meat. I make a similar stew as the first course of Thanksgiving dinner, doubling this recipe:

Lobster stew

1-1/2 to 2-pound lobster, boiled and cleaned

3 tablespoons of butter

3 tablespoons of flour

1 cup of lobster broth

2 cups of milk, half and half or cream

paprika or cayenne

sherry (optional)

Earlier in the day or the day before, boil the lobster, remove the meat from the shell and use the pieces of shell to make lobster broth (see below). To make the stew, melt butter in a large saucepan; then add flour and stir to make a roux.  Add a few dashes of paprika or cayenne to taste. Add milk or cream and cook until mixture thickens. Then add lobster broth and cook a few minutes more. Add lobster meat last with a splash of sherry, if desired. Serves four.

Lobster broth
shells from a cooked lobster
one small whole onion
a rib of celery
bay leaf

Place all ingredients in a stock pot and cover with water. Bring to a boil; then lower the heat and simmer, lid tilted, for about 30 minutes. Strain.

Boiled lobster, the New England way

The Pilgrims enjoyed an abundance of seafood in New England, as Mourt’s Relation, a journal of the Pilgrims at Plymouth, published in 1622, attests:  “This bay is a most hopeful place, innumerable store of fowl, and excellent good, and cannot but be of fish in their seasons; skote (skate), cod, turbot, and herring, we have tasted of, abundance of mussels the greatest and best that ever we saw; crabs and lobsters in their time infinite.”

While the early settlers ate lobster, the crustacean was not considered the delicacy it is today. It rated then about as highly as a piece of chicken today. In Of Plymouth Plantation, William Bradford writes, as more ships arrived with English immigrants, the best dish the original Colonists could offer their friends “was a lobster or a piece of fish without bread or anything else but a cup of fair spring water.”

Lobsters are available in New England year round but certainly not in the same quantities they once were. Many claim autumn is the best time for American lobster. The summer molt is completed, and the lobsters have grown into their new, hardened shells. Most of us simply boil our lobsters—in sea water, preferably, but if no ocean water is readily available, sea-salted water will do. We enjoy cracking open the shells and dipping the succulent meat in melted butter. It’s a messy business, but well worth the effort.

Boiled lobster

Fill a large pot approximately three-quarters full of sea water or salted water. Use two tablespoons of salt per quart of water. Bring the water to a boil. Put in the live lobsters (don't attempt to remove the bands on the front claws), one at a time, cover and bring the water to a boil again. Lower the heat and simmer about 15 minutes for a small lobster (up to 1-1/4 pounds), 20 minutes for a medium lobster (1-1/2 pounds) and 25 minutes for a large lobster.

Machias blues: wild blueberry pie

The wild Maine blueberry is thickly sweet and juicy without being watery like cultivated blueberries. The flavor is incredibly concentrated. If you’ve ever tasted Stonewall Kitchen’s Wild Maine Blueberry Jam, then you know what I mean. In Maine, blueberry season lasts for about three weeks. Depending on which part of the state you're in, the season can begin as early as mid-July and extend into the last week of August. We just returned from a trip to Downeast Maine, where I was able to buy a quart of wild blueberries for $5 from a roadside vendor in Machias. At last, we would have enough blueberries for that elusive blueberry pie. My family was very happy. Here is the recipe for my simple blueberry pie in the Fanny Farmer tradition:

Blueberry pie

Crust:

1-1/2 cups flour

pinch salt

1 stick butter or ½ cup other shortening

½ cup ice water

Add salt to the flour. Cut butter (I use Kate’s from Maine) into cubes and work into flour until mixture resembles coarse crumbs. Add about ½ cup ice water, a little at a time until dough can be worked into a ball. Flatten the ball into a disk, wrap in plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes.

Meanwhile, make the filling:

2-1/2 to 3 cups blueberries (preferably wild)

½ cup sugar

½ teaspoon cinnamon

¼ teaspoon nutmeg

flour for dusting berries

cream or milk for brushing top crust

Dust blueberries with flour. Add sugar and spices.

Now, remove dough from refrigerator and divide. Roll out bottom crust and place in 7-inch pie pan. Add blueberry filling. Roll out top crust and blanket blueberries. Crimp edges of crust to seal in juices. Brush top crust lightly with cream. (If you want a shiny golden crust, brush it lightly with egg wash.) Sprinkle with sugar, if you like. Cut three vents in top crust to allow steam to escape.

Bake pie in a 400-degree oven for 10 minutes; then, turn down the heat to 350 and continue to bake for another 35 to 40 minutes, or until pie is golden. Remove pie from oven and cool. Serve plain or with whipped cream or vanilla ice cream.

Blue ribbon blueberry muffins

Childhood evenings in late July and early August were spent on the fringe of wooded areas picking wild blueberries with my family. We never bought blueberries. I’ve tried mightily to carry on the tradition with my own family (my daughter at left), but habitat loss to development has made pickings mighty slim in Southeastern Massachusetts. You have to work twice as long to get half the yield. These days I rarely gather enough fruit to make a pie, but I do make recipes requiring fewer blueberries, such as muffins. Blueberries freeze well, as long as they are dry when frozen, so I always stash some in the deep freezer for use during the winter. On Cape Cod, blueberry muffins are so popular they merit their own category at the county fair. Here is the recipe for my old-fashioned muffins, which won first place:

BLUE RIBBON BLUEBERRY MUFFINS

2 cups flour
1/3 cup granulated sugar (preferably organic)
2-1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 extra-large egg
1 cup milk
1/4 cup butter, melted

Sift together dry ingredients in a large bowl. In a separate bowl, lightly beat the egg and then whisk in the milk and melted butter. Be sure to temper the egg mixture by adding melted butter slowly. Make a well in the center of the dry ingredients. Pour the wet ingredients into the well. Mix until combined. Do not overmix or muffins will be tough. The batter should be lumpy. Fold in blueberries. Spoon batter into a well greased muffin pan. Sprinkle tops with cinnamon sugar, if desired. Bake in 400-degree oven for 15 to 20 minutes or until toothpick inserted in muffin center comes out clean. Makes 12 small muffins or six large muffins.

 

Fourth of July salmon and peas

Amelia Simmons, author of the first American cookbook, American Cookery (1796) called salmon “the noblest and richest fish taken in fresh water.” Landlocked salmon were once plentiful in New England. Steamed or poached salmon served with the season’s first peas and potatoes was traditional Fourth of July fare in Early New England. In a nod to the rabble-rousing patriot, I steamed salmon in Samuel Adams Boston Ale. The result was moist fish, delicately perfumed with ale. Traditionally, the salmon would be served with an egg sauce, like a hollandaise. I served mine without, atop a bed of mashed potatoes with steamed homegrown sugar-snap peas, but I thought the flavor might be improved by drizzling the whole with a bit of lemon butter. The result reminded me of a deconstructed English fish pie.

*Ale-steamed salmon

1 to 1-1/2 pounds salmon, preferably wild

1 12-ounce bottle of ale

Salt and pepper to taste

Place salmon filets on a rack, skin side down, in a baking pan in which you have poured the ale. Season filets with salt and pepper. Tent pan tightly with aluminum foil and bake in a 325-degree oven for 30 to 40 minutes, or until fish is pale pink and flakes easily.

*Ale was readily available in the colonies. It was the preferred beverage of the Pilgrims. Even children drank it.

Easy peasy scallop stir-fry

When the temperatures reached 90 degrees last week, I was looking for a quick but healthful meal incorporating the sweet snow peas my garden is now producing. A stir-fry medley of locally caught sea scallops, store-bought red pepper and homegrown snow peas filled the bill. Cautionary note: All ingredients should be in place (mise en place) before you fire up the wok because this recipe cooks up faster than Rachael Ray can say “30-minute meals.”  In fact, I begin cooking the rice and then prepare my ingredients for stir frying. Time your meal according to the type of rice you’re using.

Scallop and pea stir fry

½ pound scallops
a clove garlic, crushed
2 tablespoons light soy sauce
½ cup sweet red pepper, julienned
2 cups snow peas or sugar snaps

sesame oil

1 tablespoon cornstarch dissolved in ¼ cup water

In 2 tablespoons of canola oil, pan sear scallops with crushed garlic. Remove when opaque. Add peas and red pepper to the pan. Stir fry and add soy sauce. Lower the heat, place a lid on the pan and steam briefly until vegetables are tender but bright. Add scallops and stir. Lightly drizzle with sesame oil to finish. If a thickened sauce is desired, add the cornstarch dissolved in water. Serve immediately with rice. Makes three to four servings.

Fiddlin' around with fiddleheads

For those of you who are really interested in DIY/frontier living, and not some silly made-for-TV pioneer construct, roll up your sleeves and get back to the land, which is yielding fiddleheads. Fiddleheads are the new shoots of fern before they unfurl into fronds. They are so named because they look like the top of a violin, or fiddle. In New England, they can be found along streams in woodsy areas in late spring. You don't have to harvest them yourself, though; you can now find them in the produce section of the supermarket.

Fiddleheads have an earthy taste like asparagus or broccoli. But they are a bit tough and tasteless when steamed. They are best boiled in salted water for about five minutes. To prepare fiddleheads for cooking, cut off any brown ends and dump them into a bowl of cold water. Slosh them around and rub off any brown leaf-like coverings. Drain and rinse again. Continue to rinse until the water runs clear. Place them in a pan and cover them with water. Add a pinch of salt. Heat them until they begin to boil. Allow them to boil for about five minutes or until tender. Serve them buttered, with a squeeze of lemon, if desired.

Chowing on clam chowder

A friend went clam-digging and shared some quahogs (pronounced "co-hogs"). Joy! Mollusks with pretty purple on the inside of their thick shells, quahogs make tasty chowder. The native Wampanoags used the purple and white shells as wampum, a form of currency. Polished, it makes attractive jewelry. Of course, the Wampanoags ate the clams, as did the Pilgrims. Local shellfish, plentiful and fresh, figured heavily in the early Colonial diet.

Everyone has a favorite chowder recipe. Mine is very old-fashioned, a distant relative of restaurant chowder. It's not as thick, and it has more flavor. The best part: It calls for steaming the clams instead of opening them live. This yields the clam broth you need for the chowder and eliminates opportunity for injury. It also lets you know definitively if a clam is good to eat. Clams should be alive until cooked. Their shells should be closed before cooking and wide-open after cooking.

New England clam chowder

About a dozen medium to large clams

Two ¼-inch slabs of salt pork, finely diced

1 small onion, finely chopped

1 cup crushed plain crackers (such as Saltines)

2 cups clam broth (leftover from steaming the clams)

1 bay leaf

2 large potatoes, cut into bite-sized chunks

1 to 2 cups half-and-half

Scrub the clams and place in large pot with two cups of water. Bring to a boil and then lower the heat to steam the clams. This takes only a few minutes. Discard any clams that did not open. Remove clams and strain broth through cheesecloth. Set aside. In a large pan, try out (render) salt pork over medium-high heat. When the bits are crispy and there’s fat in the pan, add onion. Cook until soft. Add crushed crackers and then the clam broth and bay leaf. Bring to a boil. Add potatoes. Cook until potatoes are tender. While potatoes are cooking, remove meat from clam shells and chop. Add chopped clams to chowder and heat through. Lower heat and add milk, half-and-half or cream. Heat to serving temperature. Avoid boiling. Serves four to six. This tastes even better the next day.

Boiled dinner: corned beef and cabbage

Corned beef goes on sale in the markets this time of year because in New England corned beef and cabbage is traditional St. Patrick’s Day fare. This resulted when Boston Irish adopted the traditional New England boiled dinner to celebrate the saint--and their heritage. In Ireland, folks don’t know a thing about this tradition. They’re more likely to eat stew or bangers and mash on March 17. Whether you’re Irish or not, a sale on corned beef provides a great excuse for an easy and delicious New England boiled dinner. While the meat is simmering, you are free to do other things around the house or garden. New Englanders traditionally use the gray corned beef, which is cured without sodium nitrate. If the corned beef you buy comes with a spice packet, you can use it in place of the spices listed in this recipe:

New England boiled dinner

2 - to 3-pound gray corned beef brisket

6 peppercorns

6 coriander seeds

½ teaspoon thyme or dill

½ teaspoon celery flakes

1 bay leaf

1 small head of cabbage, quartered

4 large carrots, peeled

4 medium potatoes, peeled

Rinse corned beef. Place in a large pot, fat side up, along with herbs and spices. Cover with water. Bring to a boil; then reduce to a simmer. After about 15 minutes, skim any scum. Cover and cook on low heat for about three hours. Then add potatoes, carrots and cabbage. Boil on low for another 30 minutes or until the vegetables are just tender. Serves four.

Shaker Sunday pot roast

This pot roast recipe is attributed to the Shakers, a religious sect that flourished in the 19^th century practicing celibacy and communal living. The last surviving Shakers (three of them) live in the Sabbathday Lake Shaker Village in New Gloucester, Maine, not far from our summer camp. I enjoy stopping by to purchase the herbs they grow. I first ate Shaker Cranberry Pot Roast about a dozen years ago at the New England Inn in Intervale, NH. New Hampshire once had a thriving Shaker community in Canterbury. When the New England Inn closed its dining room, I decided I needed to make this pot roast at home, so I researched some recipes and developed this one. Served with creamy mashed potatoes, this is a real New England "mommy meal."

Shaker Cranberry Pot Roast

1 cup fresh cranberries

½ cup sugar

½ cup water

2- to 3-pound chuck roast

2 tablespoons oil

Ground pepper to taste

1 large onion, chopped

2 large carrots, peeled and chopped

1 cup beef broth

3 whole cloves

1 cinnamon stick

1 bay leaf

In a small saucepan, cook cranberries, sugar and water for about 10 minutes. Set aside. In a Dutch oven, sear the beef in hot oil. Remove. Add chopped onions and carrots. Cook until tender. Return beef to pot and sprinkle with pepper. Add beef broth, cloves, cinnamon stick and bay leaf. Pour cranberry sauce over beef. Place lid on pot and bring to a boil; then lower the heat to simmer. Allow beef to braise for at least 2-1/2 hours, or until it is meltingly tender. Allow meat to rest for 15 minutes before serving. Serves six.

Hamaroni: meaty mac and cheese

When you bake a ham, you inevitably end up with leftovers. How do you use them? Strata is one option. Another is ham and macaroni casserole, which appears in several old cookbooks, including Fanny Farmer’s Boston Cooking School Cook Book. I’ve read multiple versions in various cookbooks, mentally digested them and devised my own recipe based on ingredients I had on hand. My version, which the family dubbed “hamaroni,” is like a smoky macaroni-and-cheese casserole. It can be assembled in advance and placed in the refrigerator covered with plastic wrap until you’re ready to bake it. Allow extra time for baking in this case.

Hamaroni

2 cups dry elbow macaroni

½ cup chopped onion

3 tablespoons butter

3 tablespoons all-purpose flour

¼ teaspoon pepper

2 teaspoons chopped fresh parsley (optional)

3 cups milk

1 cup grated cheddar cheese

2 cups diced ham, fully cooked

1 cup frozen peas

1 cup bread crumbs

1 tablespoon butter, melted

Cook the macaroni according to package directions. In a large saucepan, cook onion in three tablespoons melted butter until tender. Stir in flour, pepper and parsley. Add milk all at once. Cook and stir on medium-high heat until mixture is thickened and bubbly. Remove from heat and stir in grated cheese. Stir in cooked macaroni, ham and frozen peas. Transfer mixture to a greased 9- by 13-inch baking dish. In a small saucepan, melt one tablespoon butter; toss in bread crumbs. Sprinkle crumbs over macaroni mixture. Bake in a 350-degree oven for 30 minutes, or until the top is golden brown and the casserole is bubbly. Serves six to eight.

Hamming it up: maple-glazed ham

A woman who once worked with me said, “I used to think I cooked. Then I realized all I was doing was heating things up.” Frankly, when you “cook” a spiral-cut ham, that’s all you’re doing: heating it up. But in the process, you can dry it out. You can prevent this by providing moisture during heating. I’ve borrowed this process from Judith and Evan Jones, authors of The Book of New New England Cookery, but I’ve simplified their recipe and modified it to make it more cost-effective:

Moist maple-glazed ham

One 10- to 12-pound ham, fully cooked

½-cup brown sugar

½-cup maple syrup

2 teaspoons whole cloves

12 bay leaves

1 cup applejack, brandy or rum

Place the ham, cut side down on a rack inside a roasting pan. Pour 1 cup applejack (or other liquor) plus an equal amount of water into the bottom of the pan. Add the cloves and bay leaves to the liquid. In a bowl, mix together the brown sugar and maple syrup to make a glaze. Spread half the glaze on the ham. Tent the pan with aluminum foil, sealing the edges well. Bake the ham in a 350-degree oven for two hours or until heated through. Remove the ham from the oven and spread remaining glaze. Replace aluminum foil and let the ham stand for about 10 minutes before serving. Serves 15 to 20.

Souper economical: habitant soup

Habitant soup came to New England via French Canadiens who filtered down from Québec. You may know it as split-pea soup. It’s an economical, stick-to-the-ribs soup, often served in lumber camps. Some claim that authentic habitant soup is made with a lump of salt pork, yellow split peas, a trinity of chopped vegetables plus garlic, water and a bay leaf. Mine employs leftover ham bone and yellow or green split peas, along with the other basic ingredients. I sauté the vegetables, but many cooks simply dump everything into a pot à la fois (at once) to simmer. Yellow split peas have become harder to find in the markets, so you might have to sacrifice visual appeal and use the green split peas instead. Thanks to my friend Sue, who claims French-Canadian ancestry, for tracking down yellow split peas for this recipe. In my opinion, the flavor of this soup rests on the quality of the ham. For a rounder flavor, use chicken stock in place of the water. The flavor of this soup improves if it sits overnight in the refrigerator, but it also thickens as it sits, so be prepared to add more water as you reheat it.

Habitant soup

1 lb. yellow split peas (green may be substituted)

1 large onion, chopped

1 large rib of celery, chopped

2 large carrots, chopped

1 garlic clove, chopped

1 bay leaf

8 cups or so of water

ham bone or ½ pound salt pork

salt to taste

Pick over the peas. Rinse. Leave them to soak as you chop and sauté the vegetables. Sauté the onion, celery and carrots for about 10 minutes; then add the garlic and sauté for another minute. Drain and add the peas, water, ham bone and bay leaf. Cover the pot and bring to a boil; then reduce to a simmer and cook for about two hours. Skim mid-way through cooking or as necessary. Remove ham and bay leaf. Using an immersion blender, puree the soup. Any meat clinging to the ham bone can be added to the soup at this point. Discard salt pork, if used. Soup will thicken as it sits. Serves six to eight.

Cure for holiday excesses: turkey soup

Yankees are fond of this adage: “Use it up; wear it out; make do or do without.” To stretch your turkey dollars even further, make a delicious soup from the turkey carcass. If your pocket and your stomach are feeling the pinch from holiday excesses, you’ll appreciate this soup. I’m always amazed by how fully flavored it is, given the meager ingredients.

Turkey noodle soup

1 rib celery, washed (top can be left intact)

1 carrot, scrubbed, top removed (peeled if you prefer)

1 medium onion (no need to peel if clean)

1 bay leaf

1 tablespoon salt

1 turkey carcass

4 ounces egg noodles

Place all ingredients except egg noodles in a large stock pot. Fill pot 2/3 full of water, enough to cover the turkey carcass. Bring to a boil. Reduce to a simmer. After about 30 minutes, skim any scum that has risen to the top. Continue to simmer, half covered (lid tilted), for about two hours. When done, remove the carcass, vegetables and bay leaf; discard. Strain the stock into another pan. Bring to a boil. Add egg noodles; stir. Boil gently until tender. Leftover turkey meat can be added to the soup and heated through. A small turkey (up to 14 pounds) will make enough stock for six servings of soup. Leftover stock can be stored in the refrigerator for up to three days or in the freezer for several months.

Welcoming pineapple upside-down cake

By the mid-1600s, the pineapple, a native of South America, was being grown in hothouses in England and Holland, according to research done by Rosen College of Hospitality Management at the University of Central Florida. From there, the fruit spread to other parts of the world. American colonists began importing pineapples from the Caribbean in the 17^th century. The fruit soon became a symbol of hospitality; because of its exotic nature, pineapple was served to special guests. According to some accounts, New England sea captains would place a pineapple outside their homes as a symbol of safe return from sea voyages.

Because pineapples have been on sale at local supermarkets, I decided to try fresh pineapple in an upside-down cake. Combined with toasted coconut, the fresh pineapple makes the cake moist and delicious. Its flavor is reminiscent of English sticky toffee pudding. This cake falls into the category of what Fanny Farmer called “cottage pudding”: plain cake served warm with sauce.

Pineapple Upside Down Cake

6 tablespoons butter, softened

1/3 cup packed brown sugar

1 tablespoon water

3 tablespoons toasted coconut

Three to four rings of pineapple

1-1/3 cups all-purpose flour

2/3 cup granulated sugar

2 teaspoons baking powder

2/3 cup milk

1 egg

1 teaspoon vanilla

Melt two tablespoons of butter in a 9-inch round baking pan. Stir in brown sugar and water. Sprinkle in toasted coconut. Arrange pineapple on top of the coconut. Set pan aside.

In a mixing bowl or bowl of a standing mixer, stir together flour, granulated sugar and baking powder. Add milk, remaining butter, egg and vanilla. Beat with an electric mixer on low speed until combined; then beat on medium speed for one minute. Spoon batter over fruit.

Bake in a 350-degree oven for about 40 minutes or until a wooden toothpick comes out clean. Cool on wire rack for five minutes. Loosen sides and invert onto plate. Serve warm as is or with whipped cream, if desired. Serves 6 to 8.

To stuff a turkey

The first American cookbook, American Cookery, published in 1796 offers the following receipt (recipe) for turkey stuffing:  “Grate a wheat loaf, one quarter of a pound butter, one quarter of a pound salt pork, finely chopped, two eggs, a little sweet marjoram, summer savory, parsley and sage, pepper and salt (if the pork be not sufficient), fill the bird and sew up.” From this recipe we can see that Colonial cooks used herbs liberally.

My apple-sage stuffing, featured on the Thanksgiving menu, can be made with wheat, white or corn bread. I often use stale ciabatta. Check out your market’s day-old bread basket for bargains. Of course, you can use fresh bread, toasted, but to the Yankee mind, this seems a bit wasteful. This stuffing can be placed loosely inside the bird for cooking or can be baked separately, as I’ve done here.

Apple sage stuffing

8 cups stale bread cubes

½ cup chopped onion

½ cup chopped celery

1 cup chopped apple

½ teaspoon sage

½ stick butter (4 tablespoons)

2 cups turkey (or chicken) broth

In a Dutch oven or other large pot, sauté onion and celery in cooking oil until soft. Add sage and sauté another minute. Add butter and broth; bring to a boil. Turn off the heat and add bread cubes and apple, tossing to allow bread to soak up liquid evenly. Place mixture in a greased 9-inch by 13-inch baking dish. Bake at 375 degrees for about 30 minutes or until toasted.