Ketchup
Here is an interesting fact to ponder—the English invented ketchup in the 18th-century! Of course, in those days there were no French fries nor hamburgers to put it on, but ketchup likely found it’s way onto the finer tables of the day none-the-less, and was a favored sauce with fish or seafood dishes.
Of course, 18th-century ketchup was not the thick tomato-based product of today. It was most often an oyster or fish-based sauce and usually involved mushrooms and other vegetables simmered with a variety of spices. In fact, the name ketchup is quite possibly derived from one of several far Eastern fish sauces that have similar names. Ketchup was being manufactured in the Colonies as early as the 1750s and was even available as far West as the Mississippi Valley by late 18th century.
The lack of tomatoes being used in period ketchup is NOT because they were considered poisonous in 18th century as is often reported—The tale of a colonial man eating a tomato on the courthouse steps in his town to prove that it was not poisonous is probably just folklore. Though it is true that the tomato is a member of the nightshade family, they are of the genus Lycopersicon, which is in the same family (Solanaceae) as the potato, and the latter was quite popular by the middle of the 18th century. Like the potato, the tomato originated in South America and was an important crop among New World Indians by the 15th century. English cooks began using tomatoes (sparingly) for flavoring their soups by the 1750s. Thomas Jefferson apparently grew fond of tomatoes as he cultivated them at Monticello and even developed his own species sometime around 1781. Tomatoes were eaten on ocassion in the 18th century, they were simply not very popular during the period, and only became so after about 1800.
But back to English ketchup. Several people claim that their ketchup recipe is the oldest or most authentic, but none have been verified to date. Hannah Glasse offers a recipe in her well-known (and still in print) cookbook; The Art of Cookery Made Plain and Simple (1747). Several modern cooks who have tried a few of the old recipes claim that Hannah Glasse’s version is very probably the most “authentic”. In the event you would like to have a taste of period ketchup for yourself, Mrs. Glasse’s receipt for this sauce (which is also referred to as catsup in the period) is offered here.
Ketchup
To make Ketchup to keep 20 years.
Take a gallon of strong Stale Beer, one Pound of Anchovies washed from the pickle, a Pound of Shallots peeled, half an ounce of Mace, half an ounce of Cloves, a quarter of an Ounce of whole pepper [peppercorns], three or four large Races of Ginger, two Quarts of the large Mushroom Flaps rubbed to Pieces. Cover all this close, and let it simmer until it is half wasted, then strain it through a Flannel Bag, let it stand until it is quite cold, then bottle it. You may carry this to the Indies; a spoonful of this to a Pound of fresh Butter melted, makes a fine Fish Sauce. Or, in the room of Gravy-sauce, the stronger and staler the Beer is, the Better the Ketchup will be. (pp 121-122).
Now then, being of a naturally inquisitive disposition, simply scraping up Mrs. Glasse’s recipe was not good enough! I have gone to the trouble of interpreting her receipt into modern equivalents and, in the event you would like to give it a try yourself, I have included my findings on the following pages. The expense is but slight, and as the pot simply simmers a good while, 18th-century ketchup makes an excellent project for those wishing to experiment with period cookery. I cut the proportions down by one quarter to make it more manageable—and besides, I had no idea if it would turn out and hated to waste an entire GALLON of beer! Here we go:
Ketchup—Modified
One quart Beer (or about 3, 12oz bottles)
One pound Mushrooms
1/4 pound Anchovies (two 3oz tins)
1/4 pound Shallots
1 tsp Mace
1 tsp Cloves
1/2 tsp Peppercorns
1 large ginger root (or 1 tsp ground)
Simply break up the mushrooms, peel the shallots and put the lot into a covered kettle. Bring to a boil, then reduce the heat and simmer for several hours until half of the liquid has boiled away (you will be able to judge this from the faint line of scum left on the side of the kettle).
My finished product was a rather thin, brownish-gray, liquid with a strong odor of cloves. Were I to try this again I would probably omit or reduce the amount of cloves as I am personally not all that fond of them. This sauce would go rather well with any pork dish or, when mixed with some melted butter, with fish as the original recipe suggests. The ketchup I made did not have the rich, earthy flavor I had hoped it would, and if you are inclined to experiment I humbly offer the following recommendations:
Quarts of beer are available at most gas stations—just follow the line of shabby little men to the back corner of the liquor section. I used Old Milwaukee, a pale American-style lager, as I was loath to risk good ale in this experiment. In retrospect, I wish I had used something much stronger and more flavorful like Bass or Newcastle (both available in 20oz size), but any good ale would suffice and I would even suggest the stronger the beer the better. Agood porter like Guinness might be an excellent choice as well and I plan to use it next time.
I also used the traditional white button mushrooms, but if I do this again I would spend the extra on Portabello caps. There was very little mushroom flavor present in my sauce and they seemed to only add a small degree of thickening to the mix.
I will double the pepper in the future—but then I am partial to pepper—and I will also coarsely chop the shallots in an effort to release more of their oniony flavor. I also thought there would be enough salt present in the anchovies alone, but apparently not as I feel the recipe could also use a teaspoon or so of salt. In some early ketchup recipes, the mushrooms are first sprinkled with salt and allowed to break down a bit overnight. I will try this next time as well.
Why not experiment and report in with your own preferences?!
Sources:
Steingarten, Jeffrey, The Man Who Ate Everything (Vintage Press: ISBN: 0375702024) As read by Jim Fleming on Wisconsin Public Radio’s “Chapter a Day”.
Glasse, Hannah, The Art of Cookery Made Plain and Simple (London: 1747)