Apple Snow-Balls - A recipe from the American Civil War

In 1830 in Philadelphia, Louis Antoine Godey began publishing Godey's Lady's Book offering advice for women regarding fashion, current events, popular culture, and more.  

In 1837, Sarah Josepha Hale took over as editor where her high standards and willingness to publish original works from women writers, as well as her advocacy for women's rights and responsibilities, helped to expand readership.  When she took over, it was at 10,000 and, by 1860, it was over 150,000.  

The most popular features of the magazine included hand-tinted fashion plates in each issues, patterns for women to use in making garments at home, sheet music for piano, and short stories by authors like Edgar Allan Poe (1809-49), Nathaniel Hawthorne (1804-64), Oliver Wendell Holmes (1809-94), and Washington Irving (1783-1859), among others.  It also included news and features. (click here for citation)

Godey's also contained recipes, as listed under the general heading of "Receipts, &c."  This section included advice on running and maintaining the kitchen, and sometimes on health and medicine, because often the woman of the family was responsible for treating the family's ills.

Last year I participated in a Civil War reenactment as a cook, and I was in charge of desserts.  One that I prepared was such a hit - and easy! - that I wanted to share it on my blog.  It was published in the January 1863 edition, found on page 90.

I did not have the room in my kettle at the reenactment or at my home to make six of these.  My recommendation is to make up to as many apples as will fit in the pan that can hold the boiling water.  Think 2 to 3 servings per apple to help you plan for your meal.  

My Redaction

Per apple:

1 apple

1 long slice of lemon zest

1 to 2 inch long piece of cinnamon bark or 1 to 2 whole cloves

1/4 to 1/2 cup rice

1 large cloth napkin, big enough to wrap around the apple and still have some room

1 piece of string long enough to tie up the napkin

One big kettle of hot water

Don't forget the cloth!

Get the water to boiling (it takes a while), then keep it at a simmer until you put the apples in.

Dampen the cloth and spread it out on the counter.  It should be moist, not dripping.  Set the string nearby.

Cut each apple into fourths, cutting from the top down.  Remove the core, stem, and flower end.  Start reassembling the apple, placing the zest and spice into the space left from the core.

Pour the rice into the middle of the cloth, then spread it around in a circle with a radius about the same as the height of the apple.

Holding the parts of the apple together with one hand, set the apple in the middle of the rice layer.  Use your free hand to start pulling the corners and sides of the cloth up over the apple.  Work around the cloth; after doing half the cloth, use the free hand to hold the apple and cloth together and the other hand to pull up the rest of the cloth.

Bring the corners and edges together over the top of the apple.  Do not pull them snugly around the apple, but don't make them too loose.  Tie them with the string.  Make sure all the edges are above the string.

Set the bundle into the simmering water.  After all the bundles are in, make sure the water reaches to the top of the apples (where the tie is).  

Bring the water to a gentle boil and set the timer for 45 minutes.  About halfway through, turn the bundles over.

They are done when you poke the side with your finger and you can feel that the rice is soft.

Pull a bundle out of the water, letting it drain for a few seconds.  Place on a plate and remove the tie.  Open the cloth about halfway off the apple, then place another plate or bowl on top.  Flip the two and then remove the cloth.

With luck, the result will look just like a snow ball.

Quartered.

Cored.

Nice long lemon zest.  Use more cinnamon.

Spread that rice.

Reassembling the apple.

Hold it while bringing up the sides of the cloth.

A nice bundle.  

Get the water up to the ties, if possible.

Put the entire bundle in the water!

My Notes

It does take a while to heat up the large amount of water, so start early.  I recommend filling it to a bit less than you think you'll need to cover the bundles, because the level will rise when they go in.  Then add more hot water as needed when starting to cook.

I used one red (Gala) and one green (Granny Smith) apple.  Green apples tend to be tart.

The first time I did this, I just used zest as I didn't have whole cinnamon quills and not everyone likes the bold taste of cloves.  This time I used zest and cinnamon.

The amount of rice is up to you.  I didn't measure it the first time; for a reenactment, I just scooped and poured until it looked "right".  This time I used 1/2 cup.

Make sure the cloths are completely inside the kettle in the water, not hanging over the edge as one picture shows.  You don't want to set the cloth on fire.

I used my hand to pull the bundle out of the water.  It is hot.  You could use tongs or a slotted spoon instead.  

Out of the pot.

Start opening it up.

Flipped!

The Verdict

I served them with these garnishes:  butter, cream, maple syrup, and a cardamom-sugar mix.  My guest taster and I could put any or all of these on our servings.

At the reenactment, they looked just like perfect snowballs.  At home, they were close but had broken open around the apple.

Not perfect, but so what?

The rice was cooked through and the apples were tender.  It was easy to use a serving spoon to scoop up a piece of apple and some rice.  Then we added toppings as we liked.

One serving (of many)

We both tried both apple bundles separately.  My guest liked the tartness of the green apple best, and I liked the sweetness of the red apple.

The first thing I noted was that if you don't put the butter on right away, it won't melt into the rice.  We both agreed that it didn't need butter anyway.  We liked adding a little cream, and we especially liked the maple syrup.  The cardamom-sugar mix was also very tasty.

We loved the texture and the flavor of apple mixed with rice.  The lemon was lightly persistent throughout, as was the cinnamon.  Adding more toppings just made it better.

Success!

At the reenactment, people enjoyed it very much.  One person came back for seconds and then for another helping for a family member.  

We found it to be a "wholesome and satisfactory food" for everyone!

A thought I had later was that you could season it differently - using more savory spices such as black pepper - and serve it as a side dish to roast meat.  

Final note:  I have been going through Godey's to collect the recipes in one place.  Then I discovered that many of their recipes are word-for-word copies of recipes from N.K.M. Lee's The Cook's Own Book, published in 1832/1833.  That is another good source of period recipes.  Lee's book has several versions of snow balls.

Pudin de arróz - Rice Pudding, a Pinedo recipe

I’ve mentioned before that I have a sweet tooth, and it kicked in when I was choosing the Pinedo recipe for this post.  I’ve been eyeing her rice puddings recipes for a while.  Today I chose one that takes a long time to prepare because, well, I had the time!

On page 216 she lists two rice pudding recipes, and the first one intrigued me.  The rice is cooked in milk for three hours.

  My Translation

So, let’s get started. I chose to make a half quantity of her recipe.  At the beginning I wasn’t sure if she wanted the rice to be cooked first and then simmered for three hours, or if the rice was only simmered in the milk for three hours.  I chose the latter.

My Redaction

¼ pound white rice

1 quart whole milk

about ½ tablespoon butter (plus more to butter the dish)

½ cup raisins

½ cup sugar

4 egg yolks

2 egg whites

½ tablespoon orange blossom water

1 teaspoon cinnamon

Put rice in a sieve and rinse it well.  Add the rice to the milk in a large saucepan.  Cover the pan and bring the milk to just a bare simmer – bubbles were forming and it looked “foamy.”

Remove the cover, stir the rice well, reduce the heat to the lowest possible, and set the time for 1 ½ hours.  Stir occasionally. 

When the time is up, add the raisins, butter, and sugar.  Stir them in well and set the timer for 1 ½ hours.  Watch the rice carefully, stirring often, especially after the first hour when the mixture starts getting thick.

When the total of three hours of cooking is over, remove the rice mixture from the saucepan and into a big bowl.  Allow it time to cool, at least 30 minutes. 

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F (325 degrees if using a glass or ceramic pan).  Butter an 8 x 12 inch baking dish.

While the mixture is cooling, separate the eggs.  Beat the yolks well.  Beat the whites to stiff peaks.

Once the mixture is cool enough not to cook the eggs, mix in the yolks, cinnamon, and orange blossom water.  Stir them in well.  Then fold in egg whites.

Spread the mixture in the pan.  Bake for about 30 minutes or until the edges are lightly browned and the center is somewhat firm.

Serve warm.

My Notes

I chose to cook the rice slowly in the milk because I couldn’t see how to boil the rice to “done” without overheating the milk.  I believe that Pinedo wanted the milk to be cooked very slowly the entire time and never brought to a boil. 

After I brought the rice and milk to a simmer, I noticed the rice was sticking to the bottom of the pan.  So I stirred it with the intent to break the rice away from the bottom.  I was successful.

I first put the saucepan on a simmer mat over the lowest flame on my stove (1 of 10).  After the first 1 ½ hours, the rice was barely cooked and a “skin” was on the surface.  So I removed the simmer mat.  That cooked the rice a lot faster, which is why you need to watch it closely in the second 1 ½ hours so it doesn’t overcook.  Feel free to remove it from the heat earlier if the mixture is very thick and threatening to stick to the pan.

When the mixture went into the bowl to cool, it smelled good.  The white milk, rice, and sugar had all changed to a lovely golden color.  That long, slow cooking gave the sugars in the milk and sugar a chance to caramelize. 

I didn’t wait until the rice mixture to be completely cooled, just cool enough to “not cook the eggs.”  It was comfortably warm to the touch.

Finally looking like it is cooking!

Done.  Needs to cool.

With everything in it.

Ready for the oven.

Ready for my mouth!

The Verdict

I served it warm as dessert after dinner. 

Not too thick, not too thin.

The first thing that I noticed was how very delicate the rice pudding was.  Most rice puddings that I have tried are served cold and are creamy and somewhat heavy because they are thick.  I expected this baked rice pudding to be similar in texture to a bread pudding.  I think folding in the egg whites “in a snow state” made the pudding soft, fluffy, and delicate because the egg whites act as a leavening agent.  (Similarly, the second rice pudding recipe on that page uses “yeast powder,” which is baking powder, also a leavening.)

I also thought the pudding was surprisingly sweet.  Not overwhelmingly sweet, but I only put in ½ cup sugar, and it tasted sweeter than what I expected from that quantity.  Was it the caramelization?  Was it the raisins?  I don’t know, but I thought the sweetness level was just right.  The cinnamon amount was right, too, because I think if there had been more added, it would distract from the delicate texture. 

I did not think the orange blossom water was very noticeable, but my guest taster identified it immediately.  When I focused on my tastebuds, I could get a sense of it.  It was a subtle support flavor that was quite appropriate. 

It was also moist without being wet or cloying.  I appreciated that.

Overall, success!  It was tasty warm from the oven, cold the next day, but even better the next day warmed up slightly.

If I did it again, I would add more raisins.  I love raisins!

If you put it into a smaller baking dish, you would get a thicker pudding.  That might affect the baking time.  I liked the thickness.  I think it emphasized the delicate aspect of the pudding.

We who cook on a stove instead of a fire like Pinedo did and live our lives faster than I think she did don’t generally think of cooking something for hours on end.  I found it easy – once the milk and rice were cooking, I could do other things nearby and I just had to walk over to check on it occasionally.  I recommend trying this recipe.  It is different from a standard cold rice pudding, and I think you will enjoy it.

 

To Make a Creamapple Pie

Much of my historical cooking demonstration experience revolves around the Elizabethan period, that is, food from the reign of England's Queen Elizabeth I in the late 1500s.  It is acceptable to cook medieval recipes for this time period, but it really helps to have resources that match up with that era.  

One very good resource is Elinor Fettiplace's Receipt Book:  Elizabethan Country House Cooking as brought to us by Hilary Spurling.  Ms. Fettiplace was married to Sir Richard Fettiplace of Appleton Manor in Oxfordshire.  You can read more about her here.  Ms. Spurling is an author who cooked from the book for ten years before publishing it.  You can read more about her here.

Ms. Fettiplace wrote her receipt book (we use "recipe" instead of "receipt") by hand, passed it on to other family members who added to it and then passed it on.  Ms. Spurling acquired the book when it was inherited by her husband, John Spurling.

What I like about it is that the receipts are closer to what "ordinary" people would have made, keeping in mind that the Fettiplace family had more wealth than the average lower class worker.  When you read the recipes, you see many simple and tasty dishes and not the elaborate ones used by the very wealthy to impress at feasts.  

I chose a receipt on page 58, To Make a Creamapple Pie.  There are so many other receipts I want to try!

ISBN 0-670-81592-6

The way to format receipts in the Elizabethan times was in paragraph form.  This uses less space than our modern format.  It also gives few (if any) measurements and cooking times.  Measurements depend on the quantities you have available and cooking times depend on the size of the oven and the size of the fire that heats its.  Ms. Fettiplace assumes you have, or will get, experience in judging all this.  Fortunately, Ms. Spurling gives us her redaction, which I used but organized to our modern standards.

Original Receipt

Take your apples, & slice them, & put some butter & sugar to them, & so put them in the paste, & bake them, when they are baked cut open the pie, & put in a great deal of sweet cream, & stir it well togither, & then let it stand a little, till it bee somewhat cold, & so serve it to the boord.

Redaction

2 pounds tart cooking apples (see notes)

4 rounded tablespoons brown sugar

"a good-sized knob of butter" (I used nearly 1/4 cup)

1/2 pint cream (I used more)

dough for a two-crust, 9-inch pie

Two pounds apples is just four of these.

Preheat oven to 375 degrees F (or 350 degrees if the pie pan is glass or ceramic).

Line the pie pan with the bottom crust.

Quarter and core the apples, then slice thinly, leaving the peel on.  Spread in pie pan, piling it up higher in the middle than at the edge of the pan knowing they will settle while cooking.

Sprinkle the brown sugar over the top of the apples.  

Cut the cold butter into chips and slivers, and sprinkle them across the top of the apples.  I just held the knob over the pan and chipped away at it, letting the pieces fall onto the pie.

Cut several holes in the top crust then place on the pie.  Seal the top and bottom edges together.

Bake for 45 minutes.

As soon as the pie is out of the oven, use a funnel to help pour the cream into the holes.  Pour in as much cream as it will hold without overflowing.

Let cool to room temperature.  

Notes

I live in California, so the apples Ms. Spurling recommends, Bramley, are not available.  The internet told me that Granny Smith, Braeburn, Cortland, or Winesap are good substitutes, so I got Granny Smith.  These are green, tart cooking apples and are known to hold their shape when cooked. 

I bought 2 pints of cream and was glad because the pie took 1 1/4 pints until it was full.  Maybe because I used a 9-inch pan and piled the apples up so high?

I wanted to try Ms. Fettiplace's idea of cutting open the pie, but modified the idea to baking the top crust with parchment paper along the edges to keep it from sticking to the bottom crust.  You will see the paper in the pictures.  This idea did not work out as the top crust stuck to the apples and started to break when I attempted lifting it.  So I used Ms. Spurling's idea of using a funnel to pour the cream into the vent holes once I pulled the paper strips away.  The top sealed to the bottom anyway while cooling.

This crust experience makes me think that Ms. Fettiplace used a more robust and/or flexible pie crust than the store-bought one I used.  She felt you could cut it open and not have it break up at all.

Use this many apples

With sugar and butter

Skip the paper strips.  Just add the crust with vent holes.

Beautiful!

Now it is a creamapple pie.

The Verdict

It looked beautiful out of the oven and cooled.  

Cooled and ready to eat.

It sliced wonderfully.  The cream had set during the cooling process and did not pour out of the crust once it was cut.

No runny cream!

My regular guest taster and I loved it.  It was not an apple pie as our taste buds expected as it didn't contain the spices such as cinnamon that our tastebuds expected.  But the apple flavor was there and the cream added a richness and, well, creaminess to the experience.  The crust delivered a nice crunch, too.

I felt I should have sliced the apples thinner.  Not that they were bad, but I felt that some needed a little more cooking.  So perhaps I could have left it in the oven another 10 minutes or so, but I worried I would burn the crust.

We both tried to imagine if cinnamon or cardamom or other spices would be a good addition.  Maybe.  But the pie as it was had a unique flavor, and I'm not sure I want to change that.

Two more guest tasters tried it.  One did not like it because she tasted a "tang" that reminded her of sour cream, which she dislikes.  The other enjoyed it but noticed that it was not the "usual" apple pie - she missed the spices she expected.  So she wasn't thrilled as we were but she liked it.

Ms. Spurling commented that the pie should not be served cold as the butter coagulates and is not pleasant to eat.  We warmed our refrigerated leftovers in the microwave for just long enough to remove the chill from the pie.  That worked out well.

Success!  Give it a try but be prepared for something different than what our tastebuds have been trained to expect from an apple pie.  You might use red (less tart) apples instead of the Granny Smiths.

Guisado de carne de puerco, Pork meat stew -- a Pinedo recipe

I was perusing the Pinedo cookbook looking for inspiration - what recipe did I want to do today?  I had a fresh pork loin in the fridge, so I focused on a recipe that used it.  Now I think I have stated previously:  I love meat-and-fruit combinations, so this recipe caught my full attention.  Pork and pineapple!  And a lovely group of spices.

On page 114 is Guisado de carne de puerco, or Pork meat stew.  It looked simple to prepare (boy, did I need that!) and needs a lot of time to slow-cook everything.

My Translation

My Redaction

1 medium brown onion

1 1/2 teaspoons chopped garlic

3.4 pound boneless pork loin

3/4 teaspoon salt

1 tablespoon dried oregano

1 teaspoon whole coriander (you will want more)

1/4 teaspoon ground cloves

1 tablespoon dried parsley

1 tablespoon sugar

3 ounces white wine

1 ounce white wine vinegar

4 ounces chicken broth

1- 20 ounce can pineapple chunks in juice

2 tablespoons butter

And the butter.

Peel and chop the onion into medium dice.  Melt the butter in a Dutch oven.  Add the onion and garlic.  Saute slowly over medium low heat (3 of 10) until transluscent.  

Meanwhile, preheat a small, dry skillet over medium heat (5 of 10).  Place the coriander in it and start stirring, constantly, until the seeds are golden brown.  Place in a mortar or spice mill and crush.

Cut the meat into big, bite-sized chunks.  Place in a large bowl.  Sprinkle the oregano, parsley, coriander, cloves, and salt over the meat.  Toss them together to distribute the seasonings on the meat.

Put the meat into the Dutch oven.  Sprinkle on the sugar.  Pour the broth, wine, and vinegar over the top.

Drain the pineapple.  If the chunks are large, coarsely chop them.  Add to the Dutch oven.

Stir everything well.  Bring the liquid to just barely boiling, then reduce the heat to low (1 of 10).  

Cover the pan and cook, stirring occasionally, for 1 1/2 hours or until the meat is very tender.  The stew should be barely simmering.

Untoasted coriander on the left.  Toasted in the mortar, just before crushing.  

Ready to slow cook.

After 1 1/2 hours.

My Notes

I laughed at how the recipe does not include measurements for everything except the sugar.  I guess that no matter how much pork and et cetera you have, you should only use one tablespoon sugar.

I could have used fresh oregano and parsley, but I chose to use dried, just for convenience.  

The Verdict

I served it with white rice on the side.

First I tasted the liquid with it.  It was slightly sweet, but more savory, and the flavors of the spices and herbs came through.  I was glad the vinegar was not dominant, but it seemed to balance out the sweet of the pineapple and the umami of the cooked pork and chicken broth.

Then I tasted the meat.  It was so very tender!  But not overcooked, so still a touch firm, which I liked.  

The onions and garlic were subtle background flavors.  I could barely tell they were there.  The pineapple was cooked to tender, too.  

My guest taster and I both thought the salt level was just right.

We both agreed, however, that the herbal flavors were dominant, and we thought that did not seemed balanced.  So we added some (non-toasted) ground coriander to our bowls of stew and stirred it in.  That was much better!  It seemed to reduce the impact of the herbs in a very positive way.  Definitely more balanced.

So I added a teaspoon of ground coriander to the rest of the stew.  I have not tried it yet, but I think it will be fine.

I recommend using 2 teaspoons or more of the whole coriander to see if that suits your tastebuds.

Success!

We enjoyed it, especially with the rice to mix with the stew's liquid.  It is not a blockbuster meal as the flavors are not bold, but it is a nice, shall I say "calm" meal.  Not everything has to knock your tastebuds over.  

There was enough stew left over that we look forward to having it for another dinner.

Mustasole, an Italian cookie with connections to immigration

I was studying the food opportunities (or lack thereof!) of people who traveled steerage class in the 1800s and early 1900s, when I came across a recipe that caught my attention.  It is from The Ellis Island Immigrant Cookbook, written by Tom Bernardin.  Click here to find it online.  Mr. Bernardin worked at the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island Immigration Museum sites, giving tours and developing a slide show on the history of Ellis Island which he presented many times.  In the process, he decided he needed to gather the recipes from the immigrants, employees, and their families.  His book was the result of these efforts.

ISBN:  0-9629198-4-5

His recipes came from 33 countries and often were accompanied by stories from the person who sent them, telling about the immigrant family member or the memories they had of the food.  As someone who is interested in food history, I marvel at the old methods of cooking contained in these recipes.  For example, one called "Biscuit de Reims" starts with: 

Take 9 eggs and weigh them and take the same weight in sugar.

Take 6 eggs and weigh them and take the same weight in flour.

Take 3 eggs and weigh them and take the same weight in butter. 

We don't think about measuring that way, but imagine a person who cannot determine in advance how much an egg from her hens would weigh.  Also keep in mind that standardized measurements were not common until the early 1900s (thank you, Fannie Farmer!), but using the weighing method - no matter what unit you worked in - should work.

The recipe I choose to make is called Mustasole, which is probably a spelling variant of Mustazzoli or Mostaccioli.  It is possible the name originated from the Roman words meaning "cake made with must."  Must is freshly squeezed, unfiltered grape juice; sometimes it is cooked to concentrate the flavors and intensify the sugars, and this is called "saba."  

This recipe is made with honey, so the flavor profile would be different than one using must.  The final goal is to make a cookie that is hard when dry but soft when moist, lasts for months or even years without spoiling, and does not make crumbs.

On page 116, we find mustasole recipe along with a reminiscence from the contributor, Ms. Saiia, revealing how her family and others used these cookies for nutrition on the sea voyage.

Mustasole

3 cups sifted all-purpose flour in a bowl

1 1/2 cups sifted all-purpose flour in a cup

1 1/2 cups melted honey, warm

1/4 teaspoon salt

1/2 teaspoon vanilla or lemon flavor

Place 3 cups flour in bowl, add hot honey, salt, flavor and mix well.  Add more flour to make very stiff dough, knead on a board till smooth.  Place in bowl and cover and let rest for at least 12 hours, not in refrigerator.  Divide in 4 pieces - knead each till smooth, using little flour.  Shape as you would children's clay - build on ungreased cookied sheets - add little oil on top and shine, or water to make it stick.  Bake at 325 degrees for 15 to 20 minutes (gas or electric varies) till golden brown.  Remove from pan while hot and lay on flat surface to harden.  (Limp when hot - hard when cold.)  No crumbs.

My Notes

I chose to use vanilla, although the lemon had me intrigued.  

I heated the honey in the microwave for about 1 1/2 minutes, so it was hot and very liquid.

I mixed all the ingredients in the bowl with a spoon until the dough was not as sticky.  Then I moved it to the cutting board that was dusted with flour.  I kneaded it by hand, adding flour, until the dough was smooth, firm, and not sticky when touched quickly.  I noticed that when the dough sat for a minute or two, it started to stick to the board.

The bowl for resting was lightly dusted with flour and I put the dough in that.  I covered it with a cloth and let it rest for 30 hours (it was a busy time!). 

There was about 3/4 cup of flour left of the 1 1/2 cups.  Flour can absorb different amounts of liquid depending on when the wheat was harvested or ground or how old the flour is, so having this extra was good.  

All bowl ingredients, before stirring.

Stirred, but with no extra flour added.

Stirred with extra flour added.  Ready for kneading.

Kneaded and ready for a rest.

Notice the instructions don't specify the thickness of the dough.  I tried thick (about 1/2 inch), thin (about 1/4 inch), and very thin (less than 1/4 inch).  I noticed that the thick took more than 20 minutes to get golden brown, thin about 15 minutes, and very thin about 8 minutes.  So aim for 1/4 inch thick.

So for thick I used my hands to roll a log and then pound it flat.  I used a bench scraper to cut the pieces.

For thin and very thin, I used a small wooden rolling pin.  This was amusing because with 1/4 of the dough, it rolled very, very long and narrow!

I played with the size of the shapes while the oven preheated.  

For the thick.

For the thin!

The dough doesn't spread, you can place them close together on the pan.  

Thick.  I didn't think they would spread, but I was careful anyway.

Thin.  Crowd them together!

Baked thick.

Baked thin.

The Verdict

The one recipe made a basket full of mustasole of all three thicknesses.

Liberty cookies!

They were as hard as rocks once they cooled down.  After a few days in the basket, they had absorbed some moisture from the air and were a little bit softer, especially the thin and very thin ones.

I tried eating them by soaking them in tea.  It took several minutes of watching tiny bubbles floating up from them before they were soft enough to chew without stressing my jaw joint.  Other times I broke up a cookie (thin or very thin) and put it in my mouth, holding it there until it softened from my saliva.

The flavor was good!  The honey and vanilla came shining through, which made the otherwise chewy experience pleasant.  I had to be patient while the cookie softened, so a little honey flavor in my mouth while waiting helped.

The texture was very fine, and I did not get any crumbs.  

The thick one, cut open to show the texture.

I declare it a success!  I can imagine an immigrant bringing a box of these to use as a meal supplement  (or replacement, as needed) on the ship ride, that the wait for them to get soft enough to chew made the meal seem longer, and that a taste of home would be welcome.

This recipe is very similar to the lebkuchen cookies I made previously, following a medieval recipe.  Click here to view it.  It took a few tries to get it successful, so click here to see the other post on it.  Basically, they are same, but lebkuchen has spices added to it.  Since the lebkuchen dough can sit in a container for years (supposedly with improvement), I didn't worry about the mustasole sitting on the counter for 30 hours.  I would say the mustasole has less sweetener in it, but that is just a guess. Both mustasole and lebkuchen are traditionally frosted with a chocolate glaze, if decorated at all.

I'm going to take most of the cookies, put them in a tin box, and put them in storage.  I'll check them in a few months to see how they are doing.  If there is anything important to report, I'll let you know.

Now I wonder how this cookie would do made with freshly-squeezed grape juice.  I think you would have to worry about the juice fermenting if you let it sit for at least 12 hours.  And would it store for a long time?