Of all the casualties of the car-centric highway age of Baltimore, perhaps the reduction in neighborhood snowball stands looms the largest on sweaty summer strolls through town. The ice cream trucks are great but… just not the same.
When in 1977 the Baltimore Sun ran one of their many annual celebrations of the beloved summer treat, they estimated “perhaps 1000” snowball stands operating in the city – about one for every 822 people.
Although the 2012 SnoBaltimore map never claimed to be comprehensive – snowball stands these days are often ephemeral or hard to pin down – the number was closer to one snowball stand for every 4500 residents (locations in the county included due to my laziness.)
Aside from the lack of foot traffic necessary to do a bustling streetside trade in snowballs, sporadic health-code enforcements may have dampened business a bit. There were at least four stands within a square block of 25th and Greenmount, the Sun reported in 1977, and it was “a very profitable business.”
These days, snowballs may generate less profit, but certainly no less enthusiasm. The 1977 article continued a long tradition of venerating the snowball as a part of Baltimore summers. A search through the archive will confirm that at least the tradition of *writing* about snowballs is alive and well.
Now and then I encounter an unfamiliar recipe enough times that I just have to give it a try. Such is the case with “Bisque” Ice Cream, a recipe that has popped up in various forms in 19th-century manuscripts, later transforming into a jello pudding dish before disappearing altogether.
1940s and 50s recipes such as the one in “A Cook’s Tour of the Eastern Shore” have more or less a banana pudding structure – with a crust and/or topping of crushed vanilla wafers and a creamy lemon-gelatin-pudding center.
Originally, “Bisque” was a sweet-cream ice-cream containing crushed macaroons or cookies, and sometimes sherry. It was obviously originally a way to use up the stale sweets. Some recipes even specify that the macaroons *must* be stale.
The Bisque Ice Cream formula was (and is) virtually limitless. A 1912 trade publication, “The American Produce Review,” defined bisque ice cream as “a frozen product made from cream, sugar and bread products, marshmallows or other confections, with or without other natural flavoring.”
Advertisement, 1955, Salisbury Daily Times
The name doesn’t need much explaining – Wikipedia says this of the soup for which bisque ice cream is named: “In an authentic bisque, the shells are ground to a fine paste and added to thicken the soup.”
I’ve been wanting to take recipes out of my kitchen and socialize and share the food (and perhaps, when applicable, the failure.)
I met Chef Charlotte Galley at her work, where I took a class on eggs for an omelet blog post that I never got around to.
When I returned to take a chocolate class and she happened to be teaching that one too, I suggested we get together to try out some recipes together. I visited her at home where I got to see her chickens and family heirloom recipe box.
Galley is a native Marylander, trained at the Baltimore International Culinary College, and a farmer’s market enthusiast. We gathered what we could find at Waverly and chose a few recipes.
For the bisque, we used the macaroon recipe from Fifty Years in a Maryland Kitchen. The basic bisque ice cream appears in several Maryland cookbooks as: 1 pint of milk, 1 quart of cream, 1 teaspoon of vanilla, 1 dozen macaroons and 4 cups of sugar. We used way less sugar than that because… that is a lot of sugar.
We also made a Cauliflower Salad from “The Melwood Cookbook”, and took another stab at Baltimore Peach Cake. Peach Cake merits its own post so I’ll get back to that later.
I’ve been lagging on my weekly posts lately due to a job change and upcoming (Maryland-recipe-filled!) vacation, but I’ve got a few posts lined up in the coming weeks. In the fall I hope to make the rounds of local kitchens. If you’re a blogger, chef, or neighbor, drop me a line! In the meantime, enjoy all of the wonderful fresh vegetables and every kind of ice cream possible.
RECIPES
Macaroons:
A pound of almonds, blanched and well beaten; a pound and a quarter of sugar; the whites of two eggs, dropped into it without beating, and stir up all with a knife; two or three spoonfuls of peach water [I used rose water – also authentic]. Roll them in your fingers, and put them on white paper to bake, in a slow oven.
Clean and separate a fine large head of cauliflower, taking care to leave the center of the flower without breaking. Boil in salted water and chill. When serving use lettuce leaves to garnish the dish, and place the cauliflower with the largest piece in the center of the dish.
Make the following dressing, which should be poured over the cauliflower and served on the table. If, however, the salad must be served from the pantry, it may of course be done, but the beauty of it is as a table-served dish.
Dressing for Cauliflower Salad
Chop very fine:
1 onion
1 small cucumber pickle
1 green pepper
the heart of a stalk of celery
a few leaves of parsley
1 small tomato or a tablespoonful of canned tomatoes will do if the fresh tomato is impossible
“Through the years, Maryland whiskey has become almost as renowned as Maryland fried chicken.” – Maryland: A Guide to the Old Line State, Writers’ Program of the Works Progress Administration, 1940
In July 1945, war correspondent Ollie Stewart wrote to the Afro American of the frenzied scene in Berlin as American soldiers had raided Hitler’s “medal room” for souvenirs while the Russians looked on, laughing. “We must have looked silly as hell,” the journalist remarked.
Stewart left Berlin for Paris, where he’d just missed a banquet for the leaders of the Red Cross. The seven-course feast was served by an all-black staff – a new and novel experience for the Frenchmen. Although Stewart was at a loss to recall the full menu, owing to “so much French in the darn thing,” one dish stood out as “the big noise”: “Poulet frit Maryland.”
According to Stewart, the dish set a new standard for Parisian chefs. Some of them asked him “where is this place, Maryland?” The Afro-American shared the anecdote under the headline: “Maryland Gains Fame.”
Of all of the forgotten Maryland recipes, Maryland Fried Chicken may be the most misunderstood. It may even be impossible to understand. Since its nebulous inception, there has been little agreement on just what constitutes “Maryland Fried Chicken,” also known as “Fried Chicken, Maryland Style,” or sometimes “Chicken a la Maryland.” See? There isn’t even agreement on what to call it.
