Abraham Lincoln in the Kitchen (22 page)

When the Lincolns left for the White House, Fido was adopted by
John Roll, the son of Lincoln's carpenter and friend, who lived just down Eighth Street. The instructions for the dog's life in his new home shed light on the everyday events in the Lincoln household. Fido was indulged as another “child” in the family. He was never tied up alone in the backyard; was let inside whenever he scratched at the door; and was never scolded for wet, muddy, or dusty paws. At mealtime Fido was allowed to wander around the table, just as he had in the Lincoln dining room, so everyone could give him bits of food from their plates.

We've all been there—Dinner Crunch Time. Demands of work schedules, children's activities, social responsibilities, and entertainment opportunities collide with the need to get the family fed. As I looked in my copy of Miss Leslie's book for a family dinner recipe to test, it occurred to me that life in the Lincoln household was probably not that different from the chaos that happened in our home kitchen when our children were growing up.

For the Lincoln family at Eighth and Jackson, Robert studied at a local preparatory school and the younger boys were in school as well. Though some evenings were spent quietly with Abraham stretched out on the floor, in his habitual manner,
reading aloud, the Lincolns had plenty of obligations and opportunities. A number of sources tell how Mrs. Lincoln entertained friends from the neighborhood and her church
circle in the afternoons. The Lincolns invited friends over in the evenings, too. Along with
Mrs. Black's diary entries, a surviving invitation handwritten by Mary suggests a pattern of easy entertaining: “My dear Mrs. Brayman If your health will admit of venturing out, in such damp weather, we would be much pleased to have you, Mr. B- & the young ladies come round, this evening about seven & pass a social evening also any friend you may have with you, Yours truly.”

State capital Springfield was filled with possibilities for entertainment and education. Newspapers and Orville
Browning's diary tell of lectures by famous people—Ralph Waldo Emerson was in town for two nights in 1853—as well as presentations by local ministers and other experts. Lincoln repeated his lecture on “
Discoveries and Inventions” he had presented in Jacksonville, Illinois, ten days earlier to a hometown audience in the Concert Hall on February 21, 1859. Visiting luminaries performed on the Springfield stage. Browning attended a concert “by Halberg pianist—Vieuxtemps violinist & Perring & Madam D'Augri vocalists.” He found the music “too artistic for my taste.” There are notices of church socials, fund-raisers, and political meetings. And the circus came to town several times. The 1856 ad for Sands, Nathans & Co.'s American Circus filled a full column in the Springfield paper. They promised acrobats and gymnasts and six “wonderful performing elephants,” “Mazeppa the wild horse of Tarary,” and five clowns, all for “fifty cents admission, children under nine, half price.”

The pressures of the Lincolns' active household must have called for a set of “go-to” meals. Although the ingredients at hand and cooking equipment may have been different between my modern kitchen and the Lincolns', the underlying get-the-meal-on-the-table strategy was the same: a main dish the cook could prepare quickly and that would essentially cook itself until the family was ready to eat, whenever they got around to it.

The two dishes we know were served at the Lincolns' dinner table—
chicken fricassee and corned
beef—don't fit the bill. The 1850s fricassee is a delicious dish of chicken that is simmered in a thickened cream sauce, seasoned with nutmeg, salt, and pepper. Even though it doesn't take too long to cook, fricassee cream sauce does require close supervision. Period corned beef recipes call for the meat to be soaked in water,
rinsed, and soaked again before cooking slowly for hours without added seasonings. Not a lot of preparation, but a long time cooking.

Miss Eliza
Leslie came to my rescue, and probably that of many a mid-nineteenth-century homemaker, with her recipe for “
Mutton Harico.” Here was the 1840s version of—if not fast food—food that could be prepared efficiently in the middle of a busy home. Her directions speak to the situation: brown the cheap and thinly cut mutton chops and put them in a pot with a bit of water and some seasonings to simmer on the back of the stove or cook in a pot hanging over a low open-hearth fire. Half an hour, or even an hour later, all the cook has to do is quickly dice up four vegetables so they will cook fast, toss them in, and simmer for another half hour or until the family is ready to eat. That's it, dinner cooking practically by itself, in a flexible time frame. This dish fits perfectly with the vision I have of the
Lincolns in the kitchen.

I'm imagining a time when Mary didn't have a live-in household helper, a relative or hired Irish, Portuguese, or Illinois farm girl staying in the Lincoln home to help with chores and cooking.
Mariah Vance, a free woman of color, sometimes came by to help with the laundry and cooking, but on this day Mary would be at home alone with her own family. Only the Lincolns would occupy the kitchen.

Picture Abraham walking in after a day at his law office. He would have put on the blue apron and, between them, Abraham and Mary would get the mutton harico on the stove. First, Lincoln might have taken up the “porcelain steak maul” sold at McCabe's store as “just the thing to make old and tough steaks young and tender.” While the meat was cooking, Abraham would have gone to the neighboring open-commons grazing area to fetch home their cow for evening milking and then stabled the animal for the night. This may be the day that when he got there, as Henry C. Whitney related to William Herndon, Lincoln didn't recognize his animal. He explained his solution to this neighbor: “She was a new cow and I didn't know her thoroughly but I did know her calf. I could not pick out my cow from the other cows & so I waited a little while & my calf went to a cow and sucked her & in that way I knew my own cow.”

After milking the cow, Abraham would have brought the gallon or so of milk in to serve with dinner, or put it by in the pantry room across the open porch from the kitchen. Meanwhile, Mary would have gone
down to the basement root cellar to fetch up onions, carrots, and
turnips. We know they liked turnips as they bought a peck in December 1859 for eight cents. She then would have put the diced vegetables into the pot and perhaps asked one of the boys to set the dining room table while she tidied the front parlor for evening guests. She might even have mixed up batter for corn cakes, a dish Harriet
Hanks reported
Lincoln said that he “could eat as fast as two women could make them.”

When it was time to eat, the family sat in the dining room and ate while sharing events of the day. They would finish the meal with a quick cleanup—dishes washed in water from the backyard pump heated on the stove while the family was eating.

As to the kitchen luncheon
Miss Wheelock described sharing, that would have been a simple meal as well. In the era, “luncheon” was a fancy word for a kind of anything goes using-up of the previous evening's leftovers. As described in an 1856
Godey's Lady's Book
article: “The dishes generally served for luncheon are remains of cold meat neatly trimmed and garnished; cold game, hashed or plain. Hashes of all descriptions; curries; minced meats; cold pies, savory, fruit or plain; plainly cooked cutlets, steaks and chops, omelettes, bacon, eggs, devil[ed dishes] and grilled pones, potatoes, sweetmeats, butter,
cheese, salad pickles. In fact, almost anything does for lunch, whether fish, flesh, fowl, pastry, vegetables or fruit.”

This next dish is one I envision Lincoln making for himself after a long day's ride back home. We know that when Abraham Lincoln was in Springfield, working on cases out of his law office near the corner of Fifth and Washington, he would often do the grocery marketing first thing in the morning. Springfield
resident Page Eaton described how on winter mornings Lincoln “could be seen wending his way to market with a basket on his arm and a boy at his side.” He would stop at the butcher or baker and then take the groceries, and the boy, home before heading into the office at nine o'clock.

However, Lincoln spent days and even weeks away from his cheerful, hectic home at Eighth and Jackson as he rode around the state
attending political events or working the circuit court. He stayed in inns and boardinghouses, traveling sometimes on trains, riverboats, stages, or in his own buggy, and sometimes just riding Old Bob.
Neighbor John B. Weber
described
Lincoln late one night perhaps as he returned home from defending clients in distant towns: “I heard an ax ring out at Lincoln's. Saw Mr. Lincoln in his Shirt Sleeves Cutting wood—I suppose to cook his supper with.”

There were taverns, hotels, and restaurants in Springfield where he might have stopped off to eat—the city directories for the three years at the end of the decade list at least twenty-one restaurants and saloons—but I imagine Lincoln would have eaten at home as often as possible. A simple supper such as beef cakes, made from food in the pantry storeroom, would have been just the ticket. He would have settled Old Bob safely in the barn and walked through the yard, taking off his coat and picking up the ax.

Chopping up a bit of kindling and wood for a small fire was the first step. Then a look in the freestanding kitchen cupboard, although it might have been locked with the key safely kept by Mary to prevent young boys from eating up all the breads, jams, or even pies stored there. There was also the pantry, a room across the open porch from the kitchen lined with shelves holding the pounds of raw ingredients in sacks, firkins, and barrels. Baskets of carrots, turnips, parsnips, and other sturdy vegetables would keep well in the root cellar under the house. The Lincolns may even have had a container for
ice. Local merchant H. C. Myers & Co. grandly announced its availability for sale:

“Ice! Ice! Our friends will please hear that we have filled three ice houses for this season and hope to receive their orders.”

Small stoneware crocks could have held potted meats and
cheeses. Eggs and leftovers could be kept either in the kitchen or in the pantry.

Cooking up a quick supper would have been second nature for Lincoln beginning with his youthful experiences after his mother died. Back then he easily could have helped his sister prepare their meals, or fended for himself. We know that during his time on the Mississippi heading to New Orleans and in the army he cooked for himself and for his companions. I can see him cooking for friends in Springfield, too. When Lincoln first came to town he shared above-the-store rooms with merchant
Joshua Speed. The two became fast friends. With storytelling
Lincoln in
residence, Speed's store became a “popular evening gathering place for the young men of the town.” Lincoln may have simply made popcorn or even cooked more substantial meals in the hearth from time to time for what must have been a rollicking group.

And, even though Lincoln may have seemed more occupied with the conversation than with the victuals, when he was served food at boarding tables or in the middle of family gatherings, there is evidence that he did care about what he ate. Fellow lawyer Charles S. Zane related an evening in a circuit town inn. There was a “large basket of apples in the sitting room and we were invited to help ourselves. Mr. Lincoln was a great eater of apples. He said to me once that a man should eat and drink only that which is conducive to his own health. ‘Apples,' he said, ‘agree with me.' ”

Many is the time we've come home from a trip, grabbed a few eggs, and made an omelet. Lincoln could have done the same and whipped up what Miss Leslie calls an “Omelette Natural.” But fancy takes me to a couple of recipes for simple dishes made with leftover meats, like the beef cakes, that are as delicious and satisfying as they are easy to make. Perhaps he ate a solitary meal mulling over his travels and the cases he had tried. Perhaps the chopping awakened Robert, and he could have come down from his bedroom at the back of the house. Mary could have heard the backyard or kitchen noises and come down as well. The two of them then joined Lincoln, sitting about in the kitchen, listening to him tell tales of his adventures in the courtroom or on the road as he ate his simple supper of meat and bread.

Now here is a dish we know was served in the Lincoln home, and we even have a narrative of the meal thanks to New York newspaper editor and political activist
Thurlow Weed. In farm country, hogs are frequently slaughtered in late fall. Pieces of meat and bits of fat too small to be pickled or smoked are put to good use as fresh sausage.

As the rich and spicy smells of freshly made sausage filled my kitchen, I could fully understand Thurlow Weed's comment: “If I have
an especial fondness for any particular luxury, it manifests itself in a remarkable way when properly-made December sausages are placed before me.” In addition to his appreciation for sausage, Weed, the editor of the Albany, New York,
Evening Journal
, valued the way food could help illuminate a story. I was delighted to make sausage from the period and read his story.

Weed paid his second visit to Lincoln in December 1860. The two had
first met in New England during the 1848 presidential campaign when Lincoln called upon Weed and they then called upon Millard Fillmore, Whig candidate for vice president. In the 1860 campaign Weed had actively supported Lincoln's chief competitor,
William Seward, for the presidential nomination. After Lincoln's success at the Republican Convention held at the Chicago Wigwam in May, Weed called upon Lincoln in Springfield on his way home to New York. Weed left ready to “go to work with a will” for Lincoln's election as he wrote, “the interview had inspired me with confidence in his capacity and integrity.”

Lincoln asked Weed to return in December after winning the election, to help him plan his cabinet. Ultimately, it would take until the eve of the March 4, 1861, inauguration to complete the task, but the December meetings in Lincoln's home were a good start. Among others, Lincoln sought the counsel of
Leonard Swett and
Judge David Davis, colleagues from his circuit-riding days who had been active in his political campaigns since his election to the U.S. House of Representatives in 1846. For two days, the men began meeting at breakfast and continued through the evening, eating at the residence as Lincoln considered the local hotel foods not suitable.