The Ivory & Sterling Mystery Thingamajig Revealed

Did you correctly guess the purpose of the ivory and sterling thingamajig?

Photo: Chronica Domus

I have had such fun reading through the slew of comments received in response to the ivory and sterling thingamajig.  In fact, it has been one of the most popular mystery items in the entire series, inspiring many of you to come out of the woodwork in an attempt to solve this confounding little implement's intended purpose.  Without further ado, let's get to the answer.

The two most popular guesses were that it was either one of these ...

A marrow spoon or scoop

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or one of these ...

A Stilton scoop

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followed in hot pursuit by one of these ...

A cheese corer

(this one is an English nineteenth century oak, brass, and steel corer belonging to my husband)

Photo: Chronica Domus

I had a sneaking suspicion that these would be the top guesses, all plausible to be certain but, surprisingly, all incorrect.  

Now, I'll be honest and admit to you that I purchased the mystery thingamajig because I too thought it was a scoop to aid in the delivery of Stilton to one's plate. I have been on the hunt for such a scoop for some time but those I've come across have been rather large and unwieldy, and better suited for use with larger truckles.  

Plunged into a truckle of crumbly Stilton cheese the shovel-shaped scoop does an admirable job of delivering cheese to plate with minimal fuss and mess

Photo: Chronica Domus

Which is why when I first set eyes upon the mystery thingamajig, I knew it was going home with me.  At just shy of six inches, it was perfect for a smaller truckle. It could also, I supposed, be used to scoop out potted Stilton.  As a bonus, the sterling shank was fashioned into an unusual hemispherical scoop rather than the typical shovel shape.  

The description on the dealer's tag read "English sterling Stilton scoop with bone handle" but my teenage daughter saw things differently

Photo: Chronica Domus

My observant and inquisitive teenage daughter took one look at my newly acquired prize and deemed it an apple corer.  "An apple corer?" I repeated, "surely not".  I was left somewhat slack-jawed by the suggestion but, suddenly, the shape of the scoop made perfect sense.  Sure enough, a quick gander on the Internet confirmed her suspicions.  Who'da thunk it?!  

Here's one made by Thomas Hyde I of London, circa 1770 ...

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... and another, a Georgian ivory and sterling apple corer, circa 1816

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I marvel at the fact that I am now the proud owner of an apple corer for the first time in my life.  And, its an elegant one at that.  I had no idea such utilitarian kitchen objects could be elevated to the sublime.  

My thingamajig apple corer was made in London by silversmith Henry Holland Sr. in 1853

Photo: Chronica Domus

It does a masterly job of removing the core from the last of the winter farmers' market apples

Photo: Chronica Domus

Photo: Chronica Domus

What a satisfyingly elegant way of performing a basic kitchen task

Photo: Chronica Domus

As it turns out, my apple corer is far from being deemed one of the more elegant examples available for sale during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries.  Those were made entirely of sterling silver, like the one pictured below:

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Some apple corers were even designed to be portable and used during travel or for picnicking.  The corer can be unscrewed from its handle and stored within it when not in use.

A Georgian sterling silver traveling apple corer, London circa 1803

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If you are interested in learning more about these little-known utensils, I highly recommend you read Dorothea Burstyn's informative article found here.

Thank you all for participating in what I hope has been a fun and enlightening guessing game.  I believe my daughter won this round and has earned her ranking, having been the only participant to have correctly solved the mystery of the ivory and sterling thingamajig.  She was also the inspiration for this post, of course.

Source: Pinterest

Do please join me in giving her a well-deserved round of appl(e)ause.

Edible Antiques: Snow White's Apple

Could this be the apple that tempted Snow White?

Photo: Chronica Domus

During Saturday morning's foray to the farmers' market, I was stopped in my tracks by the sight of an apple.  The apple in question was not just any old apple, mind you.  It boasted a hue so deep and dark it could almost pass for a plum.  I had an overwhelming urge to bite into one right there and then. The two women standing beside me filling their brown paper bags with these bewitching fruits exclaimed to each other "They look just like Snow White's apple".  I had to agree with them.

Malus domestica 'Arkansas Black'
Photo: Chronica Domus

In chatting to the farmer, I discovered that this early-nineteenth century cultivar is known as an Arkansas Black apple and provides quite a challenge to grow.  In fact, he told me it was a "real pain" which might explain the scarcity of this particular variety in our area.  Apparently, his finicky thirty-five year old tree is not usually a heavy producer but this year's optimal weather conditions yielded an unusually large crop.  How lucky for us, his farmers' market patrons.

Have you ever seen such a dark-hued apple?
Photo: Chronica Domus

Upon my return home, I could not wait to cut into the glossy dark skin of this beautiful heirloom and photograph it for your pleasure.  Biting into the green tinged creamy-colored flesh proved to be a very good thing indeed.  I can tell you the flavor was nothing short of delicious. With just the right balance of  sweet and sour, and as crunchy and juicy as one would expect from a perfectly ripened autumn apple, Arkansas Black proved an excellent choice among the sea of apples available for sale at the market.  I just know my daughter will agree when she finds one tucked into her lunch box today.

Have you had the pleasure of sampling one of these black beauties, or do you have a favorite "go to" eating apple you look forward to snacking upon at this time of year?

A is for Pie ...

... apple pie, that is.  I've been quite a busy bee this past week baking to my heart's content. The house has been filled with the comforting nostalgic smells of homemade apple pie, wafting from the hot kitchen oven and perfuming the air. It is a smell I associate deeply with the months of autumn. Making these pies is like an annual rite of passage, heralding the cooler autumnal months ahead. 

This year, I got a little ahead of myself as I rushed into pie making on one of the hottest days of the year. The mercury had climbed to almost 100 degrees Fahrenheit, turning my kitchen into a tropical hothouse, which is certainly not an ideal or pleasant environment when the ovens are all fired up. Indian summer had arrived right on cue, and with a vengeance. I am happy to report that unlike recent years, the heat subsided within a week and things returned to their seasonal normalcy, which is just dandy with me. The grey misty morning autumn skies I enjoy are back, hooray!

My favorite vintage pastry tools; a turned wood rolling pin and a pastry jagger or wheel

Photo: Chronica Domus

I believe I have baked more apple pies than any other fruit pie.  My family enjoys them exceedingly. Come to think of it, I've yet to encounter anyone with a dislike of apple pie, have you?  Pies are an uncomplicated sweet treat, to be shared with one's family and friends following a satisfying meal, or during an afternoon tea or coffee break. Homemade pies are rarely turned down when offered by the slice.  They really are rather irresistible, even to those who feign their slenderization diet shall be set to ruin. I always make my own pastry, and use the same old wooden tools to shape the dough; an old turned wood rolling pin, and a handsome little wooden pastry jagger or wheel. I own one other rolling pin that I press into service too, a hefty French pastry baton, which was a gift from a favorite uncle. 

The first pie I made this autumn put to use some of the apples we recently harvested from our trees. Once I peeled the various unidentified apples, and added a little sugar, a pinch of cinnamon, and a grating or two of nutmeg, I heaped the fruit into the chilled pastry shell and took a moment to admire its rustic beauty. The apples really looked marvelous glistening in their juices. They ranged from creamy yellow to pale green in color.

Homegrown apples heaped into a homemade pastry shell

Photo: Chronica Domus

I chose to decorate the top of the pie in what I consider to be the quintessential American pie style. I formed the pastry into strips using my little wooden jagger.

A favorite vintage pastry jagger makes the job of pastry cutting a breeze

Photo: Chronica Domus

I then interlaced the pastry strips into a basket-weave or lattice design, glazed the top in an egg and cream wash, and sprinkled a touch more sugar across the surface. The pie was then ready for my oven.

The basket-weave pastry topped pie awaits baking

Photo: Chronica Domus

Wouldn't you agree that the lattice topping is the definitive picture of old-fashioned American apple pie?  I do not overly sweeten the fruit, nor over perfume it with spices and flavorings, at least when compared to most of the store purchased examples I have tried. The spotlight shines firmly on the apples, just as it should.

The baked pie cooling and almost ready for devouring

Photo: Chronica Domus

As my husband is American, he prefers his pie served à la mode, with scoops of vanilla ice cream. We Brits do things rather differently, or at least did when I was growing up. If drizzling one's pie with thick hot custard is not to your liking, cold double cream, or heavy whipping cream as it is known in America, is the preferred accompaniment to a slice of pie.  Interestingly, my American born daughter enthusiastically subscribes to the British way of doing things and positively drowns her pie in cream, lapping it all down before sheepishly asking for more; a modern day Oliver Twist in the making.

Can you guess which plate is mine?

Photo: Chronica Domus

Of course, a slab of mature Cheddar cheese is another option to consider as accompaniment to apple pie, but lifelong habits are hard to break and I always prefer mine with lashings of decadent cream.

The second pie I baked this past week was also made of unidentified apples. I've been patiently watching a nearby tree in our neighborhood through evening jaunts with my trusty canine companion. It is absolutely groaning with bright green fruits that resemble my favorite cooking apple, Granny Smith.   

I love the mustard yellow color of American 19th century yellow ware against the vivid green of the unidentified neighborhood apples

Photo: Chronica Domus

The neighborhood tree was ripe for picking last week so I helped myself to a bowlful of the green orbs with plans to recreate a traditional English apple pie. In England, one would, of course, opt to use the king of cooking apples, the puckeringly tart Bramley. Try as I might, I have failed miserably in my attempts at getting my little pie making hands on Bramley apples since moving to California.

Upon peeling the fruits, I noticed a remarkable green tone to their flesh, which suggested these might well be Granny Smiths. It seemed I was dealing with the venerable green ladies after all. I pressed on with the addition of an appropriate and limited amount of sugar to preserve the tartness we so enjoy in our pies, and a delicate grating of nutmeg.

Notice how green the apples appear unlike my home-grown apples

Photo: Chronica Domus

Traditional English apple pies tend to be made with a round of pastry capping the fruit.  A simple but pretty design is formed with the aid of the sharp blade of a paring knife. Not only is this an attractive decoration for the pastry, it also helps vent the steam formed while the apples are baking.

My version of traditional English apple pie ready for baking

Photo: Chronica Domus

Forty-five minutes later, my timer was abuzz, nudging me to remove the pie from the heat of the oven.   Its golden brown pastry and thickened bubbling juices around the vent holes were my cues that this pie was well and truly baked.  It looks delicious, wouldn't you agree?

Mmmm ...the tempting sight of a freshly baked pie fresh from the oven

Photo: Chronica Domus

Care for a piece of pie?

Photo: Chronica Domus

The vivid green neighborhood tree apples have baked down to an almost thick saucy consistency, much in the way of English Bramley cooking apples.  The taste is sharp and tart, again reminiscent of traditional English pies.  I was chuffed to bits at the success of my experiment, and boy was it scrumptious. Now, if only I knew the identity of these apples. I really don't believe they are Granny Smiths as those seem to hold their shape when cooked.  Ah, the complexities of pomology can be quite befuddling at times. 

As we sat chatting about who liked which pie, we all came to the conclusion that our homegrown apples were far better suited to eating than baking.  Yes, they made for a decent pie filling to be sure, but as their flavor was superior to those apples we are able to purchase from the market, they really were wasted when baked in a pie. On the other hand, the unidentified green neighborhood apples, whose zippy tart taste we enjoyed, were a hit in the flavor department, but not such a favorite for their sauce-like texture.  I personally enjoyed the baked-down filling but majority tends to rule in this household so I'll be back to baking with Granny Smiths again.

Do you enjoy eating and baking apple pies during the months of autumn, and what constitutes a tasty pie for you?  

The Apple Harvest Is In!

I have a confession to make.  As readers of this blog may know by now, I enjoy the challenge and reward of cultivating older varieties of fruits, vegetables, and flowers.  That is why, when it came time to select two apple trees to plant in the garden, I did a most shocking and unexpected thing.  I opted to plant two Frankentrees.

You might find yourself asking "what in heavens is a Frankentree?"  Imagine, if you will, a tree that was created by Dr. Frankenstein.  It would be multi-limbed to be sure, and I'd wager that each of those limbs would also be harvested from a variety of sources, just the way the doctor built his own monster.  You see, dear reader, my duo of trees are a veritable orchard, each producing five distinct varieties of apple ranging in size from a small plum to a large orange, and colors spanning pale green to flaming amber.

 A bushel basket filled with a variety of apples harvested from a single tree last weekend

Photo: Chronica Domus

These Frankentrees were cultivated using a very old method of horticultural trickery known as grafting. Grafting is unlike modern genetically modified Frankencrops, which have of course been fiddled with to the point of introducing genes found in other species. Grafting is merely taking one branch of an apple tree, and fusing it to the rootstock of a different apple variety. The resulting fruit is all apple and not some Gravenstein/porcine hybrid. Despite the tendency for some to spread applesauce on their pork, I'd prefer not to have pork in my apple, thank you very much.

From memory, none of the varieties of apple produced by my trees are new.  I write "from memory" as I've been a rather lax and naughty horticultural chronicler.  I have inadvertently allowed the initial nursery labels, attached to each bough, to fade in the strong sunlight, obliterating the five apples' identity.  As a result, I am left clueless as to the types of apples I am growing and eating, which is the sort of trifling detail that keeps me awake at night. Of course, any assistance my dear readers could provide in their identification, and my enlightenment, would be most welcomed.

Earlier this year I wrote a post, here, highlighting the array of white blooms found within my spring garden. At the time, I included the following two photographs, showing what I hoped would become the future apple harvest.

White apple blossom unfurling on one of the two Frankentrees in my garden

Photo: Chronica Domus

A grouping of little white apple blossoms - notice how this blossom differs to the more blowsy ones in the preceding photograph

Photo: Chronica Domus

Six months later, with the succession of the seasons, and through the magic of photography, here are those blossoms.  They have transformed beautifully into this year's apple harvest. I photographed these juicy orbs a few weeks ago, when the fruits were weighing down their branches, and were almost ready for picking.

Tinted a rosy pink, this beautiful green variety is begging to be eaten

Photo: Chronica Domus

A small red-flecked variety good enough to have tempted Adam

Photo: Chronica Domus

It was with much pleasure this past Sunday, immersed in the long shadows of late summer's golden light, that my daughter and I sought out the old bushel baskets and excitedly gathered around the trees in hopes of harvesting as many of the apples as we could pick. Several of the fruits had fallen prey to the pecks of ravenous birds, while others had dropped to earth, ripening much earlier than the varieties we were able to yield on Sunday. 

The harvest is in!

Photo: Chronica Domus

Our efforts filled the trio of bushel baskets you see above. We were supremely gratified and humbled that Mother Nature had performed her duties admirably, especially during this most difficult year of drought.  We had gathered more than enough apples to keep us happy. Not only that, but we were certain the varied wildlife that treks through the garden nightly also feasted well.  Scattered about us were many half-eaten apples, which we imagined provided bountiful nocturnal feasting opportunities for the multitude of raccoon, skunks, and opossums. We derive much pleasure in the fact that a small portion of our fruit-growing efforts benefit our fellow creatures. It all feels rather balanced in a world that is often topsy-turvy when it comes to such matters.

Rose tinted apples in the dappled sunlight

Photo: Chronica Domus

Photo: Chronica Domus

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Our bushel baskets ready to be taken into the house

Photo: Chronica Domus

Of course, what student wouldn't want to offer a fresh apple to a favored teacher, so come Monday morning, not only will I be packing my daughter off to school with an apple in her lunch box, but I will also include a few to share.

Four of the five varieties from our trees, yet to be identified by my loyal readers

Photo: Chronica Domus

Do you enjoy apples at this bountiful time of year, and what would you do with a spare bushel?