You know those signs in museums that say "Do Not Touch" or "Please Refrain from Sitting On Our Extremely Fragile Yet Oddly Inviting Settee"?
Those signs were clearly meant for me.
I like reading about history, of course, but what I'm really after is the full sensory experience. The real deal, or as close as I can approximate it. I want to touch the past, hear it, smell it. What did it feel like to curl up at night on a bed supported by rope instead of springs? When Abraham Lincoln took a bite of almond cake baked for him by Mary Todd, was he struck first by its sweet scent? Was the cake spongey? Would we find it overly sweet, or not sweet enough?
These are the questions that keep me up at night. So when I was tasked with providing refreshments for the Rhode Island Historical Society's monthly Gallery Night lecture, I had an idea. Wouldn't it be cool to offer folks the chance to taste something historic? And I'm not talking about the piece of cake my grandmother still keeps from her 1955 wedding. (Yes, it is hard as a rock, and yes, I did briefly consider tasting it.) A lecture on 19th-century Spiritualism in Providence? Late-Victorian shortbread cookies called jumbles will do the trick. A presentation on the legal culture of 18th-century Wampanoag Indians? Johnnycakes, fragrant and warm.
Of course, we can never wholly replicate the past. Nor can I reproduce these recipes exactly as my predecessors might have. But it's worth the effort, and I'll be relishing every tasty moment.
It's history in the baking.
It's history in the baking.
