Laurie Boucher told me that she always knew she wanted to study law. The vocation brought her from Pennsylvania to Baltimore, where she now resides. When Boucher needed more time to take care of family, she scaled back on lawyering, enrolled in culinary school, and began to master the art of pasta-making. As she shared her pasta creations on instagram, along with detailed information and instructions, she began to acquire a few thousand enthusiastic followers. At some point I became one of them!
Laurie’s instagram is a well of inspiration to try new things and to have fun. It’s even resulted in her offering some pasta classes. I knew that meeting Laurie would be a great way to get back into doing some interviews for Old Line Plate and I knew I could not turn down an opportunity to learn the technique of laminating herbs into fresh pasta. Problem is, I was a little intimidated. How could I keep up with a lawyer whose idea of relaxation was to spend so many dedicated hours mastering intricate techniques?
When I stepped into Boucher’s kitchen, stocked with tools for pasta and more, I was instantly put at ease. Yes, I met a highly driven and self-disciplined person. What I found beyond that was someone a lot like me – a person whose self-driven need to follow a passion on one’s own terms has allowed them to share information freely; a fellow introvert who has found that food can be a way to reach out and connect with others – even online.
My recipe explorations have exposed me to a fair amount of lifestyles of the wealthy, but this week’s family really takes the cake.
Charlotte and Clifford Truesdell were known for dressing formally for dinner – Clifford in “lace collars and cuffs” and Charlotte in evening gowns, according to the Baltimore Sun Magazine in 1978.
Clifford swore that they were not putting on airs but were “attempting to uphold the dignity of man.” The Truesdells preferred formality in their lives. “It imposes order,” Sun writer Frederic Kelly paraphrased.
The couple’s Guilford home, which they called “Il Palazzetto,” was filled with walnut paneling, gold gilding, and fine art (including many nudes of Mrs. Truesdell).
In 1894, Mrs. Charles H. Gibson, like Miss. Mary Lloyd Tyson and Mrs. Benjamin Chew Howard before her, got in on the trend of releasing a cookbook to share and boast her renowned hostessing and housekeeping skills. Like those other books “Mrs. Charles H. Gibson’s Maryland and Virginia Cookbook” capitalized on the fame of Chesapeake cooking.
“In placing my book before the public I feel that I have a right to claim a like indulgence to those who, before me, have given to the world the benefit of their experience, and I feel confident that my “Cook Book,” being the result of an experience of twenty years, will meet with a just reward.“ – Preface, “Mrs. Charles H. Gibson’s Maryland and Virginia Cookbook”
Mrs. Charles H. Gibson was born Marietta Fauntleroy Powell in 1838 in Middleburg, Virginia. According to a profile in “The Midland Monthly,” she was educated in Richmond “where she was a great belle.” Describing her as a renowned housekeeper and hostess, the 1896 profile gushes that Mrs. Gibson had written “one of the best cook books extant.”
“The Midland Monthly,” 1896
Around 1858, Marietta married Richard Carmichael Hollyday and moved to his manor in Talbot County, an estate known as Ratcliffe. Hollyday had inherited the mansion from his father Henry, the second son of the senior Henry Hollyday, who had built the Georgian home around 1749 on a tract of land originally bequeathed to Robert Morris by Oliver or Richard Cromwell.
Ratcliffe Manor sits on the Tred Avon River not far from Easton. Although books about colonial architecture always mention that the house is not particularly large, they go on to fawn over its beauty. Swepson Earle wrote in “Maryland’s Colonial Eastern Shore”: “‘Ratcliffe Manor House’ is more distinguished in appearance than the majority of homes built at the same period. The rooms are capacious, the ceilings high, and the quaintly carved woodwork delights the connoisseur of the colonial.”
“Colonial Mansions of Maryland and Delaware” by John Martin Hammond (1914) describes “an air of comfort and good taste”, with a living room opening to a terraced garden. “To the left of the front door as you enter, is a little office, or study, wherein the master of the plantation in the old days interviewed his overseer and attended to the many small details of management of the place.”
We are fortunate to have a rare alternative view into life at Ratcliffe Manor care of William Green, who had been enslaved at a neighboring farm, escaped to freedom in 1840 and wrote a memoir in 1853. Green singled out Henry Hollyday as a representative of the brutal plantation conditions of the Eastern Shore at that time, with accounts of cruelty, overwork and neglect of the clothing and feeding of the people he enslaved at Ratcliffe.
As the second-born son, the young Henry Hollyday is said to have inherited the Ratcliffe estate due to the irresponsibility of his elder brother Thomas.
In the revocation of the original will, their father wrote “the conduct and deportment of my son Thomas… has been and still continues to be such as has given the greatest anxiety and grief.”
The estate passed from ‘the good son’ Henry on to his own son Richard, Marietta’s first husband.
When Richard passed away in 1885, Marietta Hollyday became the owner of Ratcliffe. It remained her home even after she married former U.S. Senator Charles Hopper Gibson in 1888; he moved there with her. Gibson died in 1900 and Marietta sold the home in 1905. She died in 1914. I can’t figure out where she was living at that time.
The recipe I made from her book is a classic example of 1800s recipe confusion. Break the macaroni? I’d like to see an example of what macaroni looked like in the 1890s that it had to be broken into pieces. The whole thing about straining the sauce was a little weird – maybe this would be to remove fibrous tomato pieces? I used canned tomatoes. No specific cheese was called for so I used Parmesan because that’s what I had. When making old recipes it is helpful to remember that the original cooks might not have had a lot of options themselves.
I’ll wrap up this post with an assurance from John Martin Hammond, dismissive of the harsh realities of Eastern Shore plantation life, and unfazed by the drama of the wayward son:
“Ratcliffe Manor has no ghosts and no stories of violent death or suicide. It speaks simply of gentility and good living.”
Reidsville Review, NC, 1892
Recipe:
macaroni
.5 Lb beef
1 minced onion
1 Pint tomatoes, peeled and sliced
1 piece butter
pepper, black
salt
grated cheese
Break the macaroni into inch lengths; stew twenty minutes, or till tender. Have the following sauce ready : Cut half a pound of beef into strips, and stew half an hour in cold water. Then add a minced onion and one pint tomatoes, peeled and sliced. Boil an hour and strain through a cullender after taking out the meat. The sauce should be well boiled down by this time. One pint is sufficient for a large dish of maca-
roni. Return the liquid to the saucepan; add a large piece of butter, pepper and salt, and stew till ready to dish the macaroni. Drain this well ; sprinkle lightly with salt and heap it in a dish. Pour the tomato sauce over it. Cover and let it stand in a warm place ten minutes before sending to table. Send grated cheese around with it.
Recipe from “Mrs. Charles H. Gibson’s Maryland and Virginia Cookbook”
Outside of the German peach cake, or the Indian chutney that made its way into Mrs. B.C. Howard’s recipe collection, non-English and African influences aren’t always obvious in the recipes I work from. A lot of cooking traditions were passed down orally in immigrant communities, or else handwritten recipe manuscripts of everyday citizens didn’t make their way into historical society collections and the like. The remaining option is to reference “old world” sources and attempt to fill in the gaps.
That’s why I was grateful to find “Italian American Favorite Recipes” in a thrift store – even if it was printed in 1982. This Baltimore community cookbook benefitted the “American Committee on Italian Migration,” or ACIM, an organization created in “response to the immigration crisis resulting from the social and economic chaos occurring in Italy after two world wars.” [1] Lobbying by ACIM facilitated “The Immigration and Nationality Act of 1965” which abolished a quota system of immigrants by nation of origin. One book calls the act “The Law that Changed the Face of America.”[2]
Although Italian Immigration to Baltimore dates back to the mid-1800’s, ACIM found that many newcomers in the 1960s still needed assistance with relocation to the United States. A 2015 Baltimore Sun article on ACIM (now American Citizens for Italian Matters) describes some of the organizations more recent efforts such as the restoration of Italian works of art, university endowments, and contributions to women’s center My Sister’s Place.
The ACIM cookbook was compiled in 1982 by member Margaret Rose Mastellone. Margaret was an ideal force behind such a cookbook; she and her husband Andrea owned and operated the Mastellone Deli and Wine Shop on Harford Road.
The Mastellone’s were venerated authorities on Italian food, frequently quoted in the Baltimore Sun on topics from olive oil (1984) to tiramisu (1989).
“I love being with people. I’ve been raised in this business. And it’s not just people of Italian extraction, all kinds of people come [to Mastellone Deli and Wine Shop] to shop. We share in what they do, no matter what their background may be. Thank God for the people who are interested in our type of food. We want to share with them. We have something that’s special.” – Margaret Rose Mastellone, “Preserving a way of life by cooking Italian style”, Baltimore Sun 1982
Andrea passed away in 2010, and Margaret two years later. Andrea’s renowned taste and knowledge of wine was celebrated, and it was said that “Customers who venerated Italian cooking quickly made [their] store into something of a gastronomic shrine.”
Ever since I made shad roe ravioli in the spring, I caught a fancy for homemade pasta. After months of pining I got a pasta roller to call my own. I brought home some clams from Chincoteague – my favorite – and turned to the ACIM cookbook for ideas.
Lo and behold, this recipe for white clam sauce was contributed to the book by the Mastellone’s son Salvatore; “White Clam Sauce alla Salvatore Mastellone.”
It turned out amazing and I’ve been rolling out fresh pasta on the regular ever since.
In a 1982 article about the cookbook, Margaret Rose Mastellone specified that clam sauce should be served with linguini. Presumably, she passed that preference onto her son. However, my pasta cutter only does spaghetti or fettuccine so I chose the latter, rather than buy dried pasta. I like to think that the Mastellones would understand.
Recipe:
24 cherrystone clams
.25 Cup olive oil
6 cloves garlic, minced
.5 Cup chopped italian parsley
.125 Lb butter
1 pinch red pepper flakes
1 Lb linguine or fettuccine
Clean clams and steam until open. Drain and mince clams; set aside. Brown garlic in oil; remove from oil and mash. Mix clams, parsley, butter, a pinch of pepper flakes, and mashed garlic. Boil pasta al dente. Add clam sauce and serve. “Have with a nice Italian white wine, chilled. Bon Appetito.”
Recipe adapted from “Italian American Favorite Recipes”
[1] The Italian American Experience: An Encyclopedia edited by Salvatore J. LaGumina, Frank J. Cavaioli, Salvatore Primeggia, Joseph A. Varacalli
[2] The Law that Changed the Face of America: The Immigration and Nationality Act of 1965 By Margaret Sands Orchowski
The Southern Heritage Cookbook Library “Breakfast and Brunch” edition contains a menu for a “Maryland Spring Breakfast For Two.” The menu includes asparagus, fresh strawberries, cornmeal muffins and the pièce de résistance: ‘Shad Roe with Bacon.’ And this is how shad roe is best served. Simply and traditionally. Cook bacon; sautée onion; cook roe with onion; add lemon.
“Shad Roe and Bacon” has been advertised on Maryland Spring menus for over a hundred years now. So far, I’ve most enjoyed this preparation atop a bagel with cream cheese, served as you would cured salmon.
I think that for me, the appeal of shad roe is its relative obscurity- at least here in Baltimore. While it doesn’t come cheap, and is certainly ascending the ranks to *hot ingredient* status, I still get to delight in the thrill of introducing this delicacy to friends. First I entice them with alluring photos of the raw roe sacs. “Maryland’s Polarizing Delicacy,” I call it, referring to the handful of writers who have pronounced it revolting.
“Baltimore has long had some dubious culinary leanings… while on York Road the other night, I spotted a restaurant banner announcing the annoying shad roe.
I do not eat it. It’s worse than tripe, muskrat or kidney stew. Rhubarb is a delicious spring treat by comparison. And why is it, no matter what dining establishment I pick this time of year, that the person next to me is tucking in, with glee, on the vein-filled stuff, smothered with a pile of bacon?” – Jacques Kelly, Baltimore Sun, April 01, 2011
In 2004, Sun writer Rob Kasper theorized that a taste for shad roe separated Marylanders from.. everyone else*.
“One way to tell the native Marylanders from the “come-heres” is to put plates of shad roe in front of them and see who dives in and who shies away.” – Shad roe: “For Marylanders, it’s delicious,” for others, it’s just fishy, Baltimore Sun March 17, 2004
How on earth could I resist that?
In the late 1800’s and early 1900’s, the Baltimore Sun used to list the prices of goods available at Lexington Market. Prices for shad roe accompanied weekly announcements about spring arrivals like strawberries and soft-shell crabs, alongside the usual dairy, meats, and vegetables imported from southern states.
Shad Roe’s arrival is also fortuitously timed with Lent, which surely increased its popularity and sense of fleeting blessings.
Much to my humbling, the idea of putting shad roe into ravioli is apparently not an original one. Shad roe stuffed in ravioli is mentioned by none other than James Beard in “Beard on Pasta.” It is also the butt of a joke in the book “American Psycho.”
I first topped my ravioli with beurre blanc with vermouth, capers and shallots. I found that altogether too overbearing and ended up toning it down. When I served the ravioli with a simple melted butter-garlic sauce (ok… a tiny amount of vermouth) then topped it with some parsley, capers and a little Romano.. well it was positively lovely.
This is a dish you’d serve to someone who is not too sure about shad roe. But then, if you’re not all in, why bother? With shad roe’s price and popularity rising, it may be best left to the diehards, served with bacon and toast and a smug sense of Maryland pride.
Recipe:
I used the “Serious Eats” pasta recipe and ravioli method. Shout-out to the kind Old Goucher neighbor who lent me the pasta roller. My neighborhood rules!
1 pair shad roe sacs
½ to 2 shallots – to taste (garlic would be nice too)
On medium heat, sautée a your shallots and onion until translucent. Add shad roe sacs and cover to heat evenly and prevent spattering. Gently move as needed to prevent sticking to pan. Cook for about 5 minutes on each side, until all roe is brown and no pink remains. Sprinkle with salt if desired.
Sautée garlic in butter, add a splash of vermouth or white wine if desired and continue to cook until brown and nutty. Drizzle over cooked ravioli. Top with remaining ingredients, garnish with lemon and additional parsley.
For more fun with shad, view last year’s photos of the whole lovely process of gutting the shad.
*Why yes I do know that shad roe is and was consumed all up and down the eastern seaboard, thank you.
