My husband’s grandfather, Raymond Morse, was a cranberry grower on Cape Cod in Massachusetts, where sandy bogs and acidic soil create perfect conditions for the low-growing, vining shrubs. Grandfather Morse always had one eye on the thermometer, for an unseasonable frost would kill cranberry blossoms in the spring and ruin ripening berries in the fall. If it seemed that freezing cold air might settle on the low-lying bogs, the cranberry crew would head out to flood the bogs or hook up sprinklers to protect the plants. They’d spend all night sloshing around in irrigation ditches, waiting for the sun to rise and warm the air.
At harvest time in the fall, they’d flood the bogs again, then pull large reels through the bogs to knock off the berries, which floated to the surface and were corralled by floating booms and loaded onto trucks to be sold for juice. If a bog had a particularly good-looking crop, Grandfather Morse might decide to "dry-harvest" it, using large scoops to strip the ripe berries from the vines. The work was back-breaking, but the dry-harvested berries, packaged and sold fresh, brought a high price.
The Scoop
on White Cranberries
This fall, Ocean Spray, the grower cooperative that is the dominant player in the industry, is introducing white cranberry juice in test markets. Billed as a juice that is smoother and less tart than classic red, the new white cranberry drink has come under fire from critics who say that white cranberries are merely unripened red cranberries. Ocean Spray, capitalizing on the popularity of clear drinks, sees the new product as a way of expanding the market for cranberries. The new juice will be sold plain and in peach and strawberry blends.
Grandfather Morse has been gone for many years, but his cranberry beds are still producing — the plants often live longer than people do, and fields 100 years old and more are not uncommon. In fact, the first commercial cranberry beds on Cape Cod, planted by Revolutionary War veteran Henry Hall in the town of Dennis in 1816, are still producing berries. Wisconsin farmers started growing cranberries in the 1850s, and today the state produces more than 50 percent of the annual U.S. crop. Massachusetts is second, followed by New Jersey, Oregon, and Washington, for a total of more than six million barrels (weighing 100 pounds apiece) of cranberries a year.
Ninety-five percent of the crop is turned into juice; the rest goes to sauce, "Craisins" (dried, sweetened berries), and polybags of fresh berries.
At the processing plant, every cranberry rolls through a tiered separator to see if it will pass the "bounce test," which weeds out soft or bruised berries. The cranberry gets its unique ability to bounce (and to float) from four tiny air compartments inside the fruit, kind of like the four stomachs of a cow. (Just don’t try the bounce test on Bossie.)
The Pilgrims probably consumed cranberries on the first Thanksgiving in 1621, and must have noticed that the local Indians relied on the fruit for food and medicine. Indians applied whole dried cranberries to wounds as an antiseptic, a notion that anticipated modern discoveries about the cranberry’s antibacterial properties. The Indians ate lots of cranberries (whole, dried, ground) and added dried berries to dried meat and corn to make pemmican, an early version of the power bar.
Every fall we buy several extra bags of fresh cranberries and pop them into the freezer so we can make this wonderful sauce year round. It is delicious with pork or poultry, stirred into corn muffin batter, slathered on bread for ham sandwiches, or swirled into plain yogurt. We got the recipe from our friend Ruth Richards.
4 cups fresh or frozen cranberries
1/2 cup water
1 cup maple syrup
2 tablespoons grated fresh ginger
Cook cranberries and water, covered, over low heat, until berries are soft. Add maple syrup and ginger and cook, uncovered, for a few minutes longer, until sauce is thick and glossy. Makes 2 pints.
Cranberry-Raisin Pie
My husband’s grandmother, Doris Morse, lived all of her 84 years in the heart of the cranberry industry. She made this pie for every Thanksgiving dinner. Gordon said, "It was almost too beautiful to cut into, though no one ever regretted doing so."
1-1/3 cups fresh cranberries
1-1/3 cups raisins
1 cup sugar
1/4 teaspoon salt 1-1/3 cups water
1-1/2 tablespoons cornstarch
pastry for a double-crust pie
In a saucepan, combine the cranberries, raisins, sugar, salt, and 1 cup of the water. Bring to a boil. Dissolve the cornstarch in the remaining 1/3 cup water and stir into the boiling mixture. Stir constantly until the mixture thickens (about 2 minutes). Removed from the heat. Let the mixture cool slightly, then pour into an unbaked pie shell. Add the top crust (a lattice-style is ideal because it shows the red filling) and seal. Bake at 350°F for 50 to 60 minutes, until crust is golden. Serves 6.
Cranberry Raspberry Pie
1 10-ounce package frozen raspberries, thawed
3 cups (about 12 ounces) fresh cranberries
1-1/2 cups sugar
2 tablespoons cornstarch
1/4 teaspoon salt
pastry for a double-crust pie
Drain raspberries, reserving syrup. Add enough water to the syrup to make 1 cup. In a saucepan, bring cranberries and syrup/water mixture to a boil. Simmer for 5 minutes. Combine sugar, cornstarch, and salt, and stir into hot cranberry mixture. Cook, stirring constantly, until mixture thickens and bubbles. Remove from heat and stir in raspberries. Turn into an unbaked pie shell. Add top crust (a lattice crust is ideal because it shows the red filling) and seal. Bake at 400°F for 35 to 40 minutes. Serves 6.
Frozen Cranberry Velvet Pie
This is exactly what my mother would have served her bridge club in 1965. It’s as delicious now as it was then.
1-1/4 cups fine vanilla wafer crumbs or graham cracker crumbs
6 tablespoons butter, melted
1 8-ounce package cream cheese, softened
1 cup whipping cream
1/4 cup sugar
1/2 teaspoon vanilla
1 16-ounce can whole-berry cranberry sauce
Combine crumbs and melted butter and press firmly onto the bottom and sides of a buttered 9" pie pan. Chill. Beat the cream cheese until fluffy. In a separate bowl, combine whipping cream, sugar, and vanilla and whip until thickened but not stiff. Add it gradually to the cream cheese, beating until smooth and creamy. Fold the cranberry sauce into the whipped mixture. Spoon onto the chilled crust and freeze until firm. Remove from freezer about 10 minutes before serving. If desired, garnish with additional whipped cream. Makes 8 servings.
Ruby Chicken
Make this in a Dutch oven or other pot that can be used both on the stovetop and in the oven.
2-1/2 to 3 pounds of chicken pieces (one broiler cut up, or a combination of pieces your family likes)
1/3 cup flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
3 tablespoons olive oil or canola oil
1-1/2 cups fresh cranberries
1/2 cup sugar
1/4 cup chopped onion
1 teaspoon grated orange peel
3/4 cup orange juice
1/4 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon ginger
Roll chicken pieces in mixture of flour and salt and sauté in hot oil in a Dutch oven, turning pieces until browned on both sides. Meanwhile, combine the remaining ingredients in a saucepan and bring to a boil. Pour over the chicken. Cover the pot and bake at 350°F for about 45 minutes, until chicken is tender. Makes 4 servings.
Zesty Cranberry Dip
Serve this spicy sauce warm on a buffet table with cooked shrimp, tiny meatballs, cubes of ham, baked chicken wings, or other dippable foods. It also makes a tasty basting sauce for grilled chicken or meat.
2 cups ketchup
1 cup (one 8-ounce can) whole-berry cranberry sauce
2 tablespoons horseradish
2 teaspoons Worcestershire sauce
1/3 cup lemon juice
Combine all ingredients and bring to a boil. Serve warm.
Makes about 1-1/2 cups sauce.
Cape Cod Cornbread Stuffing
This recipe, adapted from Ocean Spray, makes enough to stuff a 12- to 14-pound turkey. You could also cut the recipe in half and bake it in a covered casserole dish for about 30 minutes. (But it tastes better cooked inside the bird.)
4 cups cornbread stuffing cubes
1 pound sausage meat, cooked, drained, and crumbled
2 cups fresh or frozen cranberries
1 cup diced onion
1/2 cup chopped pecans
2 teaspoons dried thyme, or 1 tablespoon chopped fresh thyme
1 cup chicken broth
Combine all ingredients except chicken broth in a bowl and toss well. Add chicken broth and mix well. If stuffing seems dry, add up to 1/2 cup water or additional broth. Spoon lightly into cavity of turkey, sew or pin the opening, and roast for about 20 minutes per pound, until bird is browned and juices run clear. Makes about 6 cups of stuffing.
Wild Rice with Craisins and Caramelized Onions
This lovely side dish is from the Ocean Spray collection.
2 cups chicken broth
1/2 cup brown rice
1/2 cup wild rice
3 tablespoons butter
3 medium onions, sliced in thin wedges
2 teaspoons brown sugar
1 cup Craisins (sweetened dried cranberries)
1/2 teaspoon finely grated orange zest
Combine chicken broth and both rices in a medium saucepan. Bring to a boil over medium heat, stir, and reduce heat to low. Cover and simmer until rice is tender, about 45 minutes. Meanwhile, melt butter in a skillet over medium-high heat, add onions and brown sugar, and cook for about 6 minutes, until onions are translucent. Reduce heat to low and continue to cook onions, stirring often, until they are caramel colored, about 25 minutes. Stir in Craisins and cook, covered, for about 10 minutes, until they are plump. Gently fold cranberry mixture and orange zest into cooked rice. Makes 4 to 6 servings.
Cranberry Eye Opener
12ounces cranberry juice cocktail
1 banana, sliced
1 orange, peeled and seeded
1 cup crushed ice
Put all ingredients in a blender and process for a few seconds at high speed, until thoroughly blended. Pour into glasses. Makes 2 servings.
According to the newest edition of The Joy of Cooking (and who am I to argue), gingerbread has been baked in one form or another for thousands of years and can be traced back farther than any baked good except bread. I love to consider an unbroken chain of gingerbread eaters stretching across time and space from Southeast Asia, where ginger is native, to Europe with the Crusaders and the spice trade, and across the Atlantic to the New World.
Ginger, a rhizome shaped like a staghorn, contains volatile oils and nonvolatile pungent chemicals that give the spice its flavor and heat. In medieval Europe, it was used medicinally as a digestive aid and to combat respiratory diseases long before it found its way into food. During the 13th century, ginger (dried or powdered) was expensive and rare, second in value only to pepper on a spice trader’s shopping list. As ginger became more accessible, gingerbread became so popular that its bakers were mobbed at fairs and feasts. By the late 1500s, Shakespeare could write, "If I had but one penny in the world, thou should’st have it to buy ginger-bread" (Love’s Labours Lost).
Gingerbread is thought to have developed first as a flat cake or cookie, usually cut into shapes and decorated with iced designs and sold in booths at medieval fairs. The Germans of Nuremberg developed a cookie called Lebküchen that incorporated honey, cardamom, cinnamon, cloves, white pepper, and plenty of ginger. Thanks to the preservative properties of the honey and ginger, Lebküchen kept for months. German bakers also perfected the art of constructing gingerbread houses from sturdy Lebküchen dough.
The gingerbread of Shakespeare’s days, made with bread crumbs, spices, and honey, gradually evolved to the more familiar sweet cake of molasses, flour, and ginger that we enjoy today. Fortunately, people still love to bake Lebküchen and gingerbread boys and fancy gingerbread houses, too, so both the cookie and cake forms are thriving. Using the recipes that follow as inspiration, perhaps you will come up with your own new variation on our oldest dessert. Go ahead — throw in some chopped apples or pears, grated orange rind, cayenne pepper, toasted pecans, a jigger of brandy, or fresh blueberries. Gingerbread can be very accommodating.
It was the height of foliage season in Vermont, but it was pouring rain — a perfect day for a cozy indoor activity like visiting the Baker’s Store of the King Arthur Flour Company in Norwich, Vermont. Why go? First of all, King Arthur’s all-purpose flour is the best — never bleached, never bromated, always milled from hard red winter wheat, as the package promises. The company, founded in 1790, was a
Susan Peery at the King Arthur Flour Baker's Store - stocking up.
well-kept New England secret for years, but word about the excellence of its flour must have leaked out, because the brand can be found nationally, at last.
Also, the store holds a vast array of cooking utensils, hard-to-find ingredients, linens, ceramics, books, appliances, and other items we bakers need (or, to be honest, covet).
The Baker’s Store is located on Route 5 in Norwich, just an apple’s throw from the Connecticut River. As befits an emporium dedicated to the art and joy of baking, it features a bakery that turns out rack upon rack of fragrant, tempting breads (brioche, baguettes, sourdough, you name it), sticky buns, cookies, cakes, fruit tarts, and whatever else the bakers dream up. It was such a blustery, rainy day that I had to fortify myself first thing with a cup of coffee and a sticky bun. My daughter had hot chocolate and a cupcake-size brioche, a Parisian combination right here in Vermont.
My main mission in visiting the store was to stock up on the specialty flours I can’t find in local grocery stores — the European-style artisan flour that seems to make my homemade bread crustier and more flavorful, the Irish-style "wholemeal" flour that is perfect for soda bread, and some Italian-style flour blended to make pizza dough supple and stretchy.
Store manager Cindy Fountain (left) and sales assistant love working in the bakery at the King Arthur store in Norwich, Vermont.
I also wanted to pick up some hard-to-find items that I’ll need at Christmas time: Swedish pearl sugar (beautiful chunks of sugar that won’t melt on top of braided cardamom breads), some unusual cookie cutters, and maybe a few stocking-stuffer items for friends and relatives who love to bake.
I found all of those things, and more, plus cheerful conversation with Cindy Fountain, manager of the store. "Nearly everything here can be ordered online at www.bakerscatalogue.com," Cindy told me, "but people still love to come to our store. They buy a lot of flour, hard-to-find tools and grains, and our baking mixes, and they love to try something from the bakery and watch the bakers working through the big glass doors at the back of the store."
By the time we emerged, laden with shopping bags filled with flour and other purchases, plus more sticky buns for the folks at home, the sun was shining and the maple trees were glowing red and gold. For those who live too far away, the Baker’s Catalogue online can give you a virtual tour through the store. But if you want to try those sticky buns, you, too, will have to hit the road.
My husband’s grandfather, Raymond Morse, was a cranberry grower on Cape Cod in Massachusetts, where sandy bogs and acidic soil create perfect conditions for the low-growing, vining shrubs. Grandfather Morse always had one eye on the thermometer, for an unseasonable frost would kill cranberry blossoms in the spring and ruin ripening berries in the fall. If it seemed that freezing cold air might settle on the low-lying bogs, the cranberry crew would head out to flood the bogs or hook up sprinklers to protect the plants. They’d spend all night sloshing around in irrigation ditches, waiting for the sun to rise and warm the air.
the Crusaders and the spice trade, and across the Atlantic to the New World.
