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Jane Austen once
wrote that of all her literary creations, Emma Woodhouse was the one most like
herself. Writing during England’s
wild (at least for the British) Regency period, when King George III was too
mad to rule and the Prince Regent was given the reigns, Austen infused her
novels of life in the English countryside with humor, romance, and a keen look
at the pressures of middle class women to marry for money. However, she is most
remembered for creating Mr. Darcy, who usually assumes the form of a young
Colin Firth in most imaginations. Well, at least in mine. Anyways, there is no Mr.
Darcy in Emma. But, there is a Mr. Knightly, who is sort of like an older, less
stuck up version of Mr. Darcy. Emma Woodhouse is rich, and unlike many of
Austen’s other heroines, she doesn’t feel pressured to get married. Therefore,
she spends most of her time trying to get other people married, with mixed
results.
As with all
Austen novels, the eccentric supporting characters are often more memorable
(and well-developed) than the main players, and the world of Emma Woodhouse is
no exception, from her hypochondriac father, to her well-meaning but dull best
friend Harriet Smith.
It is through
Miss Bates, the chatterbox spinster daughter of Mrs. Bates and aunt to the
beautiful and mysterious Jane Fairfax, that we learn of not one but two apple
dishes: Baked apples and apple dumplings. These are mentioned during the course
of a mostly one-sided conversation commenced by Miss Bates while Emma is out
shopping. Somehow the conversation (or rather, monologue) jumps from a rivet
for Miss Bates’ glasses to apples:
[…] At one time Patty came to say she thought the kitchen
chimney wanted sweeping. Oh, said I, Patty do not come with your bad news to
me. Here is the rivet of your mistress's spectacles out. Then the baked apples
came home, Mrs. Wallis sent them by her boy; they are extremely civil and
obliging to us, the Wallises, always—I have heard some people say that Mrs.
Wallis can be uncivil and give a very rude answer, but we have never known any
thing but the greatest attention from them. And it cannot be for the value of
our custom now, for what is our consumption of bread, you know? Only three of
us.—besides dear Jane at present—and she really eats nothing—makes such a
shocking breakfast, you would be quite frightened if you saw it. I dare not let
my mother know how little she eats—so I say one thing and then I say another,
and it passes off. But about the middle of the day she gets hungry, and there
is nothing she likes so well as these baked apples, and they are extremely
wholesome, for I took the opportunity the other day of asking Mr. Perry; I
happened to meet him in the street. Not that I had any doubt before— I have so
often heard Mr. Woodhouse recommend a baked apple. I believe it is the only way
that Mr. Woodhouse thinks the fruit thoroughly wholesome. We have
apple-dumplings, however, very often. Patty makes an excellent apple-dumpling.
Well, Mrs. Weston, you have prevailed, I hope, and these ladies will oblige
us."
Keep in mind
that there’s a whole other paragraph I didn’t subject you to...
Anyways, it is
unsurprising that Mr. Woodhouse, a man who seems to live almost exclusively on
the diet of a fussy toddler, would believe that only a baked apple is a
wholesome apple. However, I am more interested in Miss Bates’ apple dumplings.
There’s just something so delicious about the word ‘dumpling’---perhaps because
it invokes visions of something delicious wrapped in dough and fried, or in this
case, boiled. Yes, apple dumplings are essentially cored and peeled Granny
Smiths wrapped in pastry and then boiled. Oh and there’s sugar. Lots of it.
In
Hannah Glasse’s The Art of Cookery Made Plain and Easy first published in 1747, her recipe for apple dumplings
requires them to be boiled for upwards of an hour, depending on the size:
“Make a good
puff pastry, pare some large apples, cut them in quarters, and take out the
cores very nicely; take a piece of the crust, and roll it round, enough for one
apple; if they are big, they will not look pretty, so roll the crust round each
apple, and make them round like a ball with a little flour in your hand; Have a
pot of water boiling. Take a clean cloth, dip it in the water, and shake flour
over it; tie each dumpling by itself, and put them in the water boiling, which
keep boiling all the time; and if your crust is light and good, and the apples
not too large, half an hour will boil them; but if the apples be large, they
will take an hour’s boiling. When they are enough, take them up, and lay them
in a dish; through fine sugar all over them, and send them to table. Have good
fresh butter melted in a cup, and fine beaten sugar in a saucer.”
I was
incredibly skeptical about this. I mean come on, boiled apples? How good could
that possibly be? But, for the sake of this blog, I gave it a shot. The result? Surprising deliciousness! I used frozen puff pastry as a short cut. I then peeled, cored, and halved the apples. Next, I wrapped the halves in the puff pastry and tied them up in cheese cloth to keep them secure. I boiled the apples until soft, then tossed the dumplings in butter, sugar and cinnamon. They were like little doughy apple-filled pillows, though not as photogenic as baked apple dumplings. You win this round, Miss Bates.
