29 August - St. John the Baptist; Johnnycake

The Obligatory Memorial of the Beheading of John the Baptist.

“The beheading of St. John the Baptist, who was put to death by Herod about the feast of Easter.  However, the solemn commemoration takes place today, when his venerable head was found for the second time.  It was afterwards solemnly carried to Rome, where it is kept in the church of St. Silvester, near Camp Marzio, and honored by the people with the greatest devotion.”

He was invoked against epilepsy and convulsions – known as Morbus sancti Johannis or le Mal de St. Jean – probably because of miraculous healings of those two maladies on the feast of his nativity in Sainte-Christophe church, Creteil (France). 

The story of his beheading (well, my take on it) here, and what happened to the (other) principal players here.

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For today’s tea, I am having JOHNNYCAKE [yes, I know the name may be a local pronunciation of “journey cake”.  I don’t care.]

This one uses molasses, making it darker and sweeter than other forms of Johnnycake.

Heat the oven to 400° F.  Grease an 8-inch square pan.

Sift flour to make 1 cup.  Then sift together the (sifted) flour, 4 teaspoons of baking powder, and 1 teaspoon of salt.  To this mixture stir in 1 cup of yellow cornmeal.  Set aside.

In another bowl, lightly beat one egg.  Stir in ¼ cup of molasses and 1 cup of milk.  Blend thoroughly and stir it into the flour mixture.

Melt ¼ cup of shortening, and blend it into the batter.

Pour batter into greased pan and bake for about 25 minutes.

Those for whom this cake is not sweet enough might try a dusting of powdered sugar on top.  If you have or can make a cake stencil, it will make your johnnycake very festive indeed.

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Ant: Among those born of woman none arose greater than John the Baptist.

V: He was a man sent by God.

R: Whose name was John. 
Prayer:
Show Thyself, we pray, O omnipotent God, so that Thy household may go by the way of salvation, and by following the encouragements of the blessed John, forerunner of Christ, may reach Him whom he with certainty foretold, our Lord Jesus Christ.

                        Early 16^th century prayer found in the Hypertext Book of Hours

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Artwork: “Saint John the Baptist” from the Hours of Catherine of Cleves, 15^th c.  Morgan Library, New York.  Look very carefully and you can see that, under his mauve cloak, John is wearing a camel skin – the camel’s head and hooves are still attached.

“Beheading of Saint John the Baptist”, woodcut from The Golden Legend, 1489.

24 August - St. Bartholomew; Lava Cakes

Weather –As Bartholomew’s Day, so the whole autumn.

If Bartelmy’s day be fair and clear,

Hope for a prosperous autumn that year.

St. Bartholomew brings the cold dew.

If it rains on Bartholomew’s day, it will rain the forty days after.

however

St. Bartholomew’s mantle wipes dry all the tears that St. Swithin can cry.

[Yesterday was the last of St. Swithin’s Forty Days and the weather should be more settled now.  Should be.] 

Thunderstorms after Bartholomew’s Day are more violent [compared to what?]

If the day be misty, the morning beginning with a hoar frost, then cold weather can be expected soon, and a hard winter.

Saint Bartholomew

Brings the cold dew.

Saint Bartholomew shortens our afternoons.

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There is more about Saint Bartholomew, Apostle and Martyr, here.

 

In Belgium, servant girls were told to stay out of the cabbage field today, with the reason being that St. Bartholomew didn’t want their prying eyes watching him as he made the cabbage heads larger. [I think it was to keep the servant girls from meeting the farm boys out in the fields to make whoopee.  ‘Cause we all know what that leads to…  “Mom, where did I come from?” “The cabbage-patch.”]

And for some reason, people in Brittany and Belgium who suffered from catalepsy used to gather on St. Bartholomew’s eve at their local church and trip the light fantastic. [And I will bet that there were more than a few non-sufferers- or at least just-suddenly-came-down with the malady – dancing the night away.  Anything for a party!]

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Today is also dedicated to Saint Ouen (Owen) of Rouen.

And today in 79 AD, Mount Vesuvius erupted and shortly thereafter buried Pompeii and Herculaneum.

So, Fruit Leather for St. Bartholomew and Periwinkles for St. Ouen.  For Vesuvius, LAVA CAKES. One of Saint Bartholomew's miracles was to move a volcano away from a group of very, very nervous people and send it out to sea, so the recipe goes with his day as well.

I found this recipe on the inside of a Challenge Butter package, and is here reproduced with permission of Challenge Dairy Products, Inc., on whose website - www.challengedairy.com - you can find more delightful recipes.

 

1/2 cup (1-stick) Challenge Butter, melted

7 Tablespoons unsweetened cocoa powder

1/2 cup sugar

1/2 cup brown sugar

3 Tablespoons all purpose flour

1/2 teaspoon salt

4 eggs

1 teaspoon vanilla

Preheat oven to 400°  F.

Use approximately 1 Tablespoon of the melted butter to brush the inside of six 4-ounce ramekins or custard cups; set aside.

In a large bowl, beat together remaining melted butter, cocoa powder, sugars, flour and salt.  Stir in eggs until smooth.  Stir in vanilla.

Pour batter into the prepared ramekins and set the ramekins in a large baking dish.  Pour hot water into the baking dish to a level about halfway up the side of the ramekins.

Bake for 14-15 minutes until the batter puffs but the center is not set.  The edges will be firm but the center will be runny.

[How can you tell?  Same as you would for a cake - with a toothpick - except that this time, you want to see the toothpick come out "not clean"].

Serve the cakes in the ramekins or run a knife around the edge of each cake and unmold onto plates [the buttering previously helps a lot with this].  Serve the cakes warm or chilled.  Garnish with raspberry sauce, fresh berries, vanilla ice-cream or a dusting of powdered sugar.

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ARTWORK: “Saint Bartholomew” from the Hours of Catherine of Cleves, 15^TH century.

“Saint Bartholomew” woodcut from The Golden Legend, 1489.

21 August - Consualia; Aliter Isicia Omentata

Today, XII Kalends September in the Roman calendar, was the festival of Consualia, in honor of Consus, the deity in charge of counsel – especially kept counsel – and secrets.  Most famously it is known as a set-up by Romulus, by which he planned to keep his new city of Rome going through the forcible abduction of brides for his men.

Yep, this was the day of those sobbin’ women, “who lived in the Roman days.”

According to Sir William Smith in his Classical Dictionary of Biography, Mythology, and Geography: “In the fourth month after the foundation of the city, he [Romulus] proclaimed that games were to be celebrated in honour of the god Consus, and invited his neighbours, the Latins and Sabines, to the festival.  Suspecting no treachery, they came in numbers, with their wives and children.  But the Roman youths rushed upon their guests, and carried off the virgins.”  

They never did return their plunder   

The victor gets all the loot.  

They carried them home, by thunder, 

To rotundas small but cute.  

And you've never seen, so they tell me,  

Such downright domesticity. 

With a Roman baby on each knee  

Named "Claudius" and "Brute" 

             Johnny Mercer, “Seven Brides for Seven Brothers”, 1954.

Not a whole lot is known about Consus or his festival, although a lot of interesting stuff has been written.  Varying accounts by both ancient and modern writers have muddied the waters, identifying him with the gods of the lower world and of the harvest (making this another harvest festival.  Or perhaps the festival made him another harvest god.  Who knows?).  At some point, he was associated with Neptunus Equestris (in Greek, Poseidon Hippios, the Horse God), hence (supposedly) the prominence of horses, asses, and mules in the celebrations, where the equines were decorated with flowers and given a holiday from work.  Horse races and mule races in the Circus Maximus were traditional to the day, as was the annual unearthing of the buried altar of Consus in the Circus.

Pretty much, it seems like a day to have fun, which is probably what it was for the Romans.

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So what would the Romans eat as they watched the horse and mule races?   The Food Timeline has excerpts regarding ‘fast food’ in Rome along with the kinds of eatables at the Coliseum.  Since it is summer, I offer for your consideration a recipe from the famous ancient Roman cookbook of Apicius, De Re Coquinaria, for what Michaela Pantke calls “a kind of Roman burger”.

This version comes from Joseph Dommer Vehling, in his 1926 book “Apicius: Cookery and Dining in Imperial Rome”, available online at Project Gutenberg:

ALITER ISICIA OMENTATA

FINELY CUT PULP [of pork] IS GROUND WITH THE HEARTS OF WINTER WHEAT AND DILUTED WITH WINE. FLAVOR LIGHTLY WITH PEPPER AND BROTH AND IF YOU LIKE ADD A MODERATE QUANTITY OF [myrtle] BERRIES ALSO CRUSHED, AND AFTER YOU HAVE ADDED CRUSHED NUTS AND PEPPER SHAPE THE FORCEMEAT INTO SMALL ROLLS, WRAP THESE IN CAUL, FRY, AND SERVE WITH WINE GRAVY.

Note: ISICIUM refers to minced or hashed meat, like sausage meat. Ground beef works.  OMENTATA refers to the caul or intestinal membrane, such as used for sausage casings.  Since I’m not making sausage, I’ve left that out of my version of the recipe, along with the Wine Gravy.

For the modern kitchen:

Soak ½ cup of cream of wheat (or fine bread crumbs or two pieces of toast) in ½ cup of wine (or other liquid such as milk or water)

Crush 4 tablespoons of toasted pine nuts; reserve.

Mix the soaked wheat (and liquid if any is left) and crushed nuts with 1 lb of ground meat, ½ teaspoon of ground black pepper, ¾ teaspoon of ground allspice [aka the ‘myrtle berries’], and 3-½ tablespoons of garum (a salty fish sauce)* or substitute a mixture of a scant ½ teaspoon of salt dissolved in 3 – 4 tablespoons of white wine.  Shape into burgers and either pan-fry or grill until done.

Apicius didn’t serve his Aliter Isicia Omentata on a bun, but that shouldn’t stop us.

*You can buy garum or make it yourself.

Micaela Pantke entered her translations of some of Apicius’s recipes here, if you are interested in trying more Roman cookery.

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Artwork:  Nicolas Poussin, c. 1635. The Abduction of the Sabine Women, Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. Wikipedia.

“Dinner Gong: A Roman gong from Pompeii”. Pen-and-ink drawing by Joseph Dommer Vehling, in his 1926 book Apicius: Cookery and Dining in Imperial Rome, available online at Project Gutenberg.

18 August - Saint Helena

Since I am away celebrating, here are some favorite images of my patron saint:

Giovanni Baptista Cima, 1495

From The Golden Legend, 1489

Cranach?  The headdress is marvelous.

Anonymous icon.  I love the Byzantine jeweled robes.

17 August - Saint Hyacinth of Poland

At Cracow, in Poland, St. Hyacinth, confessor, of the Order of Preachers, who slept in the Lord on the 16^th of this month.

Hyacinth or Jacek was born around 1185 in Silesia into the Polish noble family of Odrowatz.  His uncle Yvo was the bishop of Cracow, and early on, Hyacinth was made a Canon of the cathedral, so that he could help with the administration of the diocese. 

On a visit with his uncle to Rome, Hyacinth met Saint Dominic, and so embraced the zeal of the Hound of God, that he asked to be taken into Dominic’s new Order of Preachers.  After a few months of training, he went back to Cracow, where his own zeal in preaching brought many who had become lax in their faith to renew their commitments to Christ.  Here he established a Dominican priory in which the friars were trained and then dispersed to preach the Gospel to the pagan tribes in the east and north.  Hyacinth himself traveled over much of eastern Europe establishing churches and priories, and is said to have gone as far east as China.

“He had,” said Father Francis Xavier Weninger, “particular devotion to the Blessed Sacrament and to the Blessed Virgin, and never undertook anything before offering his work to God and begging the assistance of His Blessed Mother.”

His most recounted miracle is the subject of the image above.  While serving Mass in Kiev, he learned that the Tartars (or Mongols) were besieging the city.  Upon the Ite, Missa est, he grabbed the ciborium with the Blessed Sacrament and, still clad in his vestments, headed out of the church followed by his fellow friars.  As he was leaving, a large and heavy statue of the Blessed Mother, before which he was accustomed to say his prayers, said to him, “My son, why do you leave me behind to be trampled by my enemies?  Take me with you.”  When Hyacinth replied that she was too heavy to be carried [hardly a nice thing to say to a woman], she said, “My Son will lighten the burden.”  He lifted the statue and found that he could carry it in one hand.  So with the Blessed Sacrament in one hand and the statue of the Blessed Mother in the other, he led his followers out of the church and into the city.

Finding no enemy soldiers at one of the city gates, Hyacinth and his band made their way to the Dnieper River, over which the saint walked dry-shod.  By following in his footsteps, the others were able to cross as well.  They made it back to Cracow in safety, and the miraculous statue, now returned to its more substantial weight, was enshrined in a church in Lemberg.

Father Weninger concludes, “St. Hyacinth, carrying the Savior of the world in one hand, and in the other, the statue of the Blessed Virgin, walked past his enemies through the city.  Happy are they who carry Jesus and Mary, not only on their lips, but also in their hands! They will ever walk safely amid dangers, unharmed by the enemies of their salvation.”

Some seventeen years after this episode, Hyacinth was given heavenly notice that his time on earth was at an end, and after celebrating the Mass of the Feast of the Assumption, he died of a wasting fever in 1257.  His body rests in the Church of the Holy Trinity in Cracow, in the chapel bearing his name.  He was canonized in 1594, and for centuries his feast day was the 16^th of August.  At some point in the mid-20^th century, his day was moved to the 17^th, perhaps because Saint Joachim, grandfather of Our Lord, was given his own feast on the 16^th  (until 1969).

O God, who didst make Blessed Hyacinth Thy Confessor glorious amongst the people of divers nations for the holiness of his life and the glory of his miracles, grant that by his example we may amend our lives, and be defended by his help in all adversities.  Through Christ our Lord, Amen.

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Mary’s Garden

William Hone, in his “Every-day Book” dedicates the beautiful Belladonna Lily (Amaryllis Belladonna, not to be confused with Deadly Nightshade) to St. Hyacinth, but this plant seem to like the warmer climates.  In the Smallest State, hyacinths (Hyacinthus Orientalis) bloom early and often, and the little Grape Hyacinths (genus Muscari) not only are one of the first to flower (sometimes while the snow still covers the ground) but do particularly well without any extraordinary attention.  Trust me.

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Somewhere along the line, Hyacinth became the patron saint of pierogi. Not sure why, as none of the early books refer to this patronage, but perhaps it is a cultural thing.  The usual explanation says that “Swiety Jacek z pierogami” (“St Hyacinth and his pierogi!”) as an expression of surprise or astonishment, (like “Heavens to Betsy!” or the Widow’s favorite “Oh my stars and garters!”) has something to do with it.  Or perhaps Saint Hyacinth found pierogi on one of his many missionary journeys and introduced them to Polish cuisine when he came home. Be that as it may, Pierogi are delicious, and entirely fitting for today’s dinner.  You can find several recipes online, or (like the Widow) take the path of least resistance and gather unto yourself pierogi which are already made and ready to be cooked.  Even better is if you are near a Polish community which is celebrating Saint Hyacinth and makes freshly cooked pierogi a main part of their celebration.  What is nice about them (apart from general deliciousness) is that they can form the appetizer, main, and dessert courses by a variation in ingredients.

And of course, one must have a glass of the Dowager Lady Ursula’s gome made hooseberry hind!

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Artwork: “Saint Hyacinth”, from Pictorial Lives of the Saints, John Gilmary Shea.

Hyacinth [aka The Bucket Woman!] of Keeping Up Appearances.

15 August - Assumption

Weather: On Saint Mary's Day, sunshine brings much good wine.

If the sun shines on Mary's day, that is a good token, and especially for wine.

[Heretofore I have entered that last word as ‘wind’ because that is the way I found it, but I do believe the typesetter of that book made an error; therefore I have changed it to wine.  Wind at this time of year is not a good token, too often taking the form of Category I or higher.  Of course, overindulgence in a good wine can make you feel like you’ve been through a Category 1 or higher.]

Rain on St. Lawrence is late but good            (August 10)

Rain on Assumption is also late but good     (August 15)

But if St. Bartholomew rains, slap him!         (August 29)

[once the harvest begins, we need dry weather.  A late rain can mildew the plants in both field and barn]

Farming and Gardening:

When Mary left us here below,

The Virgin's Bower begins to blow;

The Holy Queen of Heaven gives us the first nuts.

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Hail! Holy Virgin mother, wedded Maid;

Blest Temple of the Trinity ador’d;

All Angels’ joy, meek Virtue’s Cypress shade,

Fountain of clemency, pure Spouse of God,

Lost pilgrims’ Loadstar on life’s troubled way;

Candle of heavenly unction, Patience’s Palm

Sweet light of morning, bright Star of the day,

Lamp of Devotion, wounded sinners’ Balm.

Chaplet of graces, Posy of our prayers,

Chastity’s Cedar, Humility’s fair cell,

Hope’s constant magnet, solace of our cares,

Vessel of comfort for Affliction’s dell,

Rose of sweet heavenly odors, Lily pure,

Beneath thy foster care we rest secure.

                                 Thomas Forster, Philosophia Musarum, 1845

Here we are again at the glorious high-summer festival in honor of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary.  Take herbs to be blessed at Mass today, or make an Assumption bouquet of flowers and herbs.  And chocolate was discovered today!  Huzzah!

Good wine and good chocolate and a beautiful summer’s day – doesn’t get much better than that.

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Once upon a time, not too long ago, this was an important Feast, a Double of the 1st Class, with a Vigil (with its fast) fore and an Octave aft, and a Plenary indulgence attached.  Now it is a Solemnity, with all the accoutrements stripped away that might make Protestants even more nervous than they already are with this further evidence of Catholic Mariolotry (got to keep that ecumenism going!)

Okay, I am being facetious.  Over the years, several popes have decided to make things easier (you can say 'dumbing down' if you like - I do) and so instead of a truly awe-inspiring Feast, we now have something from the category, "oh-bother-not-another-holy-day-of-obligation-I-just-went-to-Mass-on-Sunday-I-have-other-things-to-do!".  Can't get much easier than that.

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Artwork: “Assumption” from the Hours of Catherine of Cleves, 15^th century. Morgan Library, New York.

10 August - Saint Lawrence of Rome

Weather: If on Saint Lawrence's Day the weather be fine, fair autumn and good wine may be hoped for.

[Clear and sunny!  Huzzah for a good vintage!]

 If it is fine on St. Laurence’s day and the day of the Assumption, there will be a good vintage.

[Fingers crossed for Assumption]

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“Assatus sum; jam versa et manduca”

(“I am done; turn me over and eat me”) 

At Rome, on the Tiburtine road, the birthday of the blessed archdeacon Lawrence, a martyr during the persecution of Valerian.  After much suffering from imprisonment, from scourging with whips set with iron or lead, from hot metal plates, he at last completed his martyrdom by being slowly consumed on an iron instrument made in the form of a gridiron.  His body was buried by blessed Hippolytus and the priest Justin in the cemetery of Cyriaca, in the Veran field.

Lawrence holds a book, a purse, and his gridiron

There is more about Lawrence here.

Also, the Perseids, the “Tears of Saint Lawrence” begin to peak now.  If you have clear night skies, go outside and enjoy them.  Peak will be Monday morning in the dark hours before dawn, but the shooting stars will be shooting all night.

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Artwork:

Saint Lawrence, from “The Hours of Catherine of Cleves”, 15^th century. The Morgan Library, New York.

9 August - John Dryden

One of the Widow’s favorite poets, the English Laureate (and Stuart upholder) John Dryden was born today in 1631 in the village of Aldwincle, Northamptonshire where his grandfather was the Rector.

 

Besides his poetry (which has beguiled many of Madame’s free hours), and his plays, which, although labeled tragedies, are really quite comic, he is said to be the first person to rule that sentences should not end in prepositions, thus dividing the English-speaking world into those upon whose ears the stranded prepositions grate, and those who couldn’t care less whose ears they grate (and a few sub-categories who, like, really don’t understand what everybody is making a ruckus for, like y’know, who cares if you strand a preposition or dangle a participle?)

Moving along, here is one of my favorites, the song from his play Secret Love; or, The Maiden Queen.

 I feed a flame within which so torments me

That it both pains my heart, and yet contents me:           

’Tis such a pleasing smart, and I so love it,

That I had rather die, then once remove it.           

 

Yet he, for whom I grieve, shall never know it;

My tongue does not betray, nor my eyes show it.

Not a sigh, nor a tear, my pain discloses,

But they fall silently, like dew on roses.

Thus, to prevent my love from being cruel,

My heart’s the sacrifice, as ’tis the fuel:

And while I suffer thus to give him quiet,

My faith rewards my love, though he deny it.

On his eyes will I gaze, and there delight me;

Where I conceal my love, no frown can fright me:

To be more happy, I dare not aspire;

Nor can I fall more low, mounting no higher.

[Oh, be still my beating heart!]

Now, isn’t that preferable to some neaderthal chanting “You mah bitch… you mah bitch… you mah bitch… oh baby, yeah…”

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Artwork: Anonymous, “John Dryden”, c. 1670.  Wikipedia.  I love the studied nonchalance of Restoration undress.

Sir Peter Lely, “Nell Gwyn”, c 1675.  National Portrait Gallery, London.  Wikipedia.   Nell, Charles II's "Protestant Whore" as she called herself, acted in several of Dryden's plays.

AUGUST

The Obligatory Memorial of the Beheading of John the Baptist.

“The beheading of St. John the Baptist, who was put to death by Herod about the feast of Easter.  However, the solemn commemoration takes place today, when his venerable head was found for the second time.  It was afterwards solemnly carried to Rome, where it is kept in the church of St. Silvester, near Camp Marzio, and honored by the people with the greatest devotion.”

He was invoked against epilepsy and convulsions – known as Morbus sancti Johannis or le Mal de St. Jean – probably because of miraculous healings of those two maladies on the feast of his nativity in Sainte-Christophe church, Creteil (France). 

The story of his beheading (well, my take on it) here, and what happened to the (other) principal players here.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

For today’s tea, I am having JOHNNYCAKE [yes, I know the name may be a local pronunciation of “journey cake”.  I don’t care.]

This one uses molasses, making it darker and sweeter than other forms of Johnnycake.

Heat the oven to 400° F.  Grease an 8-inch square pan.

Sift flour to make 1 cup.  Then sift together the (sifted) flour, 4 teaspoons of baking powder, and 1 teaspoon of salt.  To this mixture stir in 1 cup of yellow cornmeal.  Set aside.

In another bowl, lightly beat one egg.  Stir in ¼ cup of molasses and 1 cup of milk.  Blend thoroughly and stir it into the flour mixture.

Melt ¼ cup of shortening, and blend it into the batter.

Pour batter into greased pan and bake for about 25 minutes.

Those for whom this cake is not sweet enough might try a dusting of powdered sugar on top.  If you have or can make a cake stencil, it will make your johnnycake very festive indeed.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

Ant: Among those born of woman none arose greater than John the Baptist.

V: He was a man sent by God.

R: Whose name was John. 
Prayer:
Show Thyself, we pray, O omnipotent God, so that Thy household may go by the way of salvation, and by following the encouragements of the blessed John, forerunner of Christ, may reach Him whom he with certainty foretold, our Lord Jesus Christ.

                        Early 16^th century prayer found in the Hypertext Book of Hours

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Artwork: “Saint John the Baptist” from the Hours of Catherine of Cleves, 15^th c.  Morgan Library, New York.  Look very carefully and you can see that, under his mauve cloak, John is wearing a camel skin – the camel’s head and hooves are still attached.

“Beheading of Saint John the Baptist”, woodcut from The Golden Legend, 1489.