A Handful of Flour
Grammy lived in one side of the farmhouse (originally a coaching inn); Aunt Mary and her family lived in the other half. It was true country, no ceramic roosters or replica butter churns. Aunt Mary had a garbage bowl before Rachel Ray made it cool. Grammy had trays of eggs on the counter, collected that morning. Grammy's kitchen had mint green cabinets, plants on deep windowsills, and poor lighting.
Fond memories.
One fall we were going to make pumpkin pie. Not pumpkin custard pie. Pumpkin sliced like apples and laid in a crust. She showed me her mother's recipe book.
Handwritten in blue ink, it had accumulated stains over the decades, and the pages had turned brown and brittle. The recipes were the most interesting of all. A handful of flour. A spoonful of lard. Knead until ready.
I said, "How do you know how much? Your hand or my hand?"
The answer: "Her hand."
Once upon a time, a woman spent literally every waking minute in the kitchen, even if she wasn't actively cooking. She had maybe three knives, a few spoons, her cast iron skillet and a Dutch oven. Cooking a meal took hours over either an open fire or a stove, both of which made heat regulation difficult. Cooking involved a lot of guesswork and learned intuition. And it took a long time, filling up most of her day.
When she used a recipe -- if she didn't know it by heart -- she understood which spoon -- the wooden one -- and she knew how much flour -- her hand -- and she knew what it felt like when she had kneaded enough. Women had a more intimate relationship with cooking back then. It was true artistry.
Young brides often persevered through a steep learning curve. She had spent years at her mother's elbow, almost like an apprentice. But in her own home she was working with new spoons, new stove or hearth, and old recipes. If she was fortunate, her loving husband would eat dry roast, tough bread, and burnt pie without complaint.
In 1902, Fannie Farmer changed all of that. On August 23, 1902, she opened Miss Farmer's School of Cookery in Boston. The school was for young ladies who wanted to be more skilled in the kitchen but also for ladies who wanted to be teachers, one of the few careers open to women at the time. Miss Farmer had already published a cookbook and served as principal of another Boston culinary school. Miss Farmer took on two additional skill sets, however: cooking for the sick and convalescent and the promotion of standard measurements.
No more "handful of flour" or "spoonful of lard".
Her cookbooks included standardized measurements but also information on cooking and sanitation techniques, household management, and nutrition. One cookbook was geared toward hospital kitchens but could also be used by women caring for an ill or convalescent relative at home. Miss Farmer was so knowledgeable in this area that she was invited to guest lecture at Harvard Medical School.
The next time you pick up your Pyrex to measure chicken stock or your wooden spoon to stir, remember Miss Fannie Farmer, who made it easier for women who love food but don't have quite the learned intuition of our ancient sisters. And raise a glass to those women who took survival to the level of art.
