I made this pie weeks ago. Maybe months now? At the time, I was living in a lot of fear of exposing myself or others to the virus. Those fears are still there, but we’ve since adapted a little better.
As weeks went by without grocery shopping, I felt a more personal perspective on some of the stories I read and share. Eggs and butter became precious. I rationed my reserves of flour and sugar carefully. When I wanted a sweet treat, I had to weigh the benefits of using those ingredients.
Scarcity or preciousness could mean so many different things across time. I love these stories of course: an era when oysters were abundant and ordinary, a time when celery was a status symbol; nearly inconceivable differences in our relationship with familiar foods.
Even our own quarantine-imposed scarcity is a subjective experience. What we make do with can depend on our grocery store, our freezer space, our cooking preferences.
This is why sometimes the best desserts are not about decadence. Simplicity is a reminder that these pleasures are accessible and likely to be there even in uncertain circumstances; here to give us a moments joy in the making and the eating, in times when the joy is more desperately needed than others.
It becomes an empowering feeling to have the ability and expertise to make substitutions and adapt.
Western Maryland by and large was not the origin of a lot of the food Maryland became known for: the culture of seafood, caterers & ritzy hotels (although it had a few).
Many of the families had less wealth and the 1914 “Maryland Cook Book” often reflects that. It notably includes a recipe for salt-rising bread, alongside the usual array of cakes and lemon pies, and a good deal of pickles and preserves.
This simple cinnamon pie recipe was contributed by Mrs. Benjamin F. Selby, who I believe was born Annie McQuay near Easton in 1878. The McQuays later relocated to Baltimore. Mr. Selby was a dentist in Western Maryland. Annie died in 1924, and was buried with her family at Loudoun Cemetery.
Cinnamon is a perfect example of an ingredient that now seems humble, but was once very scarce and exotic to the Western world. Its origin was a mystery to most Europeans in the Middle Ages.
By the time Mrs. Selby shared her Cinnamon Pie recipe, cinnamon had been a readily available and affordable ingredient for over a century.
When I made the pie, another century later, flour, yeast and toilet paper were the hot commodities. Rather than baking bread, I opted for less flour-intensive uses like pies and cakes.
Weeks later, my cooking and baking habits have not fully returned to normal. There will likely still be many unforeseen results of the pandemic— domino effects changing the abundance or preciousness of different ingredients. The only certainty now is the preciousness of life itself, and our unwavering ability to use what we have to bring a little sweetness to dark days.
Recipe:
“Yolks of 2 eggs (save whites for meringue), 3/4 c. sugar, 1 tbsp. melted butter, 1 heaping tbsp. flour, 1 scant tbsp. cinnamon, 3/4 c. cold water. Bake in one crust.”
Recipe from “The Maryland Cook Book,” 1914, The Oakland Civic Club
