One of the great things about having a large cookbook
collection is that you “re-discover” a book that you haven't looked at for a long time and realize that you really have a gem. Savoring
The Seasons Of The Northern Heartland is such a book. It’s written by Beth
Dooley and Lucia Watson, two women who have made a name for themselves in the
food and cooking world. Lucia Watson
owns and operates Lucia’s Restaurant in Minneapolis—a
popular spot since 1985. Beth Dooley is
a transplanted Easterner to the Midwest and
has a special interest and knowledge of the history of pioneer cooking. As always, I am drawn to the wonderful and
informative narrative on Northern Heartland traditions—especially the diverse
group of immigrants that settled this area and the dishes that they brought and
are still visible on our tables today.
The introduction opens with a quote from Papers of George
Nelson, Minnesota Trapper, 1803:
The land is of beautiful lakes all
communicating with each other by equally beautiful streams full of excellent
fish and ducks of twenty Species, Swans & geese with abundance of rice for
you & them. The boarders well
furnished with grapes, plums, thorn apples and butternut. The Woods Swarming with Deers & Bears
& beavers…Whenever this country becomes settled how delightfully will the
inhabitants pass their time.
The geographic area of the Northern Heartland encompasses Minnesota, Iowa, Wisconsin, the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, and eastern North Dakota. Soups and stews abound to stem the piercing cold
of this region and there is an ethnic version of all of them from Scandinavia, Germany,
Eastern Europe, Scotland
and Wales. The Native Americans from the Ojibway and
Sioux tribes taught many of these early settlers how to live off the land and
to dry fish, harvest cranberries and cook wild rice.
The chapter headings tell the story of our Northern
Heartland food traditions:
Milling and
Baking—Bread, Muffins and Griddle Cakes
Henhouse
and Dairy—Chicken, Eggs, and Cheese
Barnyard
and Smokehouse—Farmhouse Meats
Seasonal
Kettle—Hot and Cold Soups
The
Communal Pot—One-Dish Meals
North Woods
and Prairies—Large and Small Game
Deep Lakes
and Swift Streams—Freshwater Fish
Backyard Gardens and Sacred Paddies—Vegetables
and Wild Rice
Preserves and
Pickles—Sweet and Savory Embellishments
Come For
Coffee—Cakes, Cookies, and Bars
Pride of
the Heartland—Pies, Puddings and Sweets
Each chapter is complete with wonderful information about
the subject i.e. “Milling and Baking” chapter gives the history of the milling
industry in Minnesota,
especially General Mills and Pillsbury.
In addition to the history lesson, several exceptional recipes for
breads are included; Café Latte’s Dakota Bread is one of them. The cafeteria and bakery of that name is tucked
into one of St. Paul’s
oldest neighborhoods near Summit
Avenue where F. Scott Fitzgerald grew up.
Café Latte’s Dakota Bread
Makes 2 large or 3 small round loaves
2 cups warm water (105 to 115 F)
2 scant Tbsp. active dry yeast
¼ cup honey
¼ cup vegetable oil
½ cup cracked wheat
1 Tbsp. salt
1 cup whole wheat flour
5 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
½ cup roasted, unsalted sunflower seeds
1/3 cup hulled raw pumpkin seeds
1 Tbsp. poppy seeds
1 Tbsp. raw sesame seeds
1 egg, beaten
Vegetable spray
In large bowl, combine water, yeast, honey, oil, and cracked
wheat and allow to proof about 5 to 10 minutes, or until the yeast is light and
bubbly. Add the salt, whole wheat and
white flours and stir to combine. Dump
the dough out onto a well-floured surface and begin to knead, adding enough
flour to make a nice soft dough. Knead
about 10 to 15 minutes, sprinkling with more flour as necessary, or until the
dough is smooth and elastic. You may
want to use more flour depending on the dryness of the cracked wheat and the
flours, as well as the general humidity.
Mix the seeds together and sprinkle them over the dough, reserving a few
tablespoons to sprinkle over the loaves before baking. Then knead the seeds into the dough. Turn the dough into a greased bowl, cover
with a dish towel, and set it in a warm place.
Allow the dough to rise until double in bulk, about 1 hour. Punch the dough down. Let it rest for 5 minutes. Divide the dough and shape it into 2 large or
3 small round loaves, and place them on lightly greased baking sheets. Let rise 25 to 30 minutes. Brush the loaves with a beaten egg and
sprinkle on any remaining seeds. Bake
the loaves in a preheated 375 deg. F oven for approximately 30 to 40 minutes,
or until the loaves are nicely browned and sound hollow when tapped. Remove the loaves from the oven and cool on
wire racks.
Pork played a very important part in the lives of the
Heartland immigrants. The rich farmland
supported livestock of all types but the frugal Germans, Swedes and Norwegians
especially loved hogs. “They took up
little space and were cheap to feed with leftovers, scraps, and garbage. The meat—fresh, smoked, salted, and in sausages—provided
meals of great variety, plus lard for baking and frying, and tallow for
candles. Nothing was wasted in the
immigrant kitchen, where people prided themselves on using ‘everything but the
squeal.’”
Pork Tenderloin with Dried Cherries
½ cup dried cherries
¾ cup Madeira or Port
1 whole pork tenderloin (1 ¼-1 ½ pounds)
½ tsp. dried thyme
½ tsp. crushed juniper berries
½ cup unbleached all-purpose flour
Salt and Pepper
½ stick (4 Tbsp.) butter
¾ cup white wine
1 cup homemade Chicken Stock
¾ cup heavy cream
In small saucepan, combine the dried cherries with the Madeira and bring to just under a boil; then remove from
heat and let cherries steep until they are plump. Cut the pork into thin slices (about ½ inch
thick) and lightly pound between parchment paper or plastic wrap until not
quite flat. Sprinkle the slices with
thyme and juniper and allow to rest for about 10 minutes. Season the flour with salt and pepper. Dip each slice of pork into the flour,
shaking off the excess. Melt the butter
in a large skillet and sauté the pork (about 30 seconds per side) until it is
browned and cooked through. Remove the
slices from the pan, set them on a warm plate, and tent with aluminum foil to
keep warm. Pour out excess butter and
immediately return the skillet to high heat.
Deglaze the pan by pouring the white wine into it and scraping with a
fork or spatula to loosen any of the browned bits of meat. Continue cooking over medium-high heat and
reduce the wine to a syrupy consistency.
(It should be thick enough to just coat the back of a spoon.) Then add the Madeira
and cherries and the chicken stock, and reduce again. Add he cream and continue cooking and
stirring until the sauce thickens.
The soup kettle is probably the true melting pot of
cooking. Every ethnic group has
full-bodied and distinctive soups even as they are similar. Soups have been credited with healing powers:
we all know the power of chicken soup for colds or almost any ailment. The Indians made a thin wild rice soup for
the stomach; the Germans thought cream soup could cure anything. Scandinavians brought fruit soups to new
mothers to give them strength while nursing.
Pumpkin Soup
3-4 pounds pumpkin
½ stick butter
2-4 Tbsp brown sugar,
1 tsp. ground cinnamon
¼ tsp. ground cloves
Salt and pepper
1 onion, peeled and finely diced
1 apple peeled, cored, and finely diced
1 cup apple cider
1-2 cups milk
Freshly ground nutmeg to taste
Chopped toasted chopped pecans for garnish or toasted
pumpkin seeds
Cut the unpeeled pumpkin into large chunks and place on a
baking sheet. Dot with butter and
sprinkle lightly with brown sugar, cinnamon, cloves, salt and pepper, then
cover with aluminum foil. Bake in a 350
deg. Oven for about 1 to 1 ½ hours, or until tender. After you remove it from the oven, keep it
covered with the aluminum foil so that the pumpkin will steam and become very
soft. Scoop out he flesh of the
pumpkin—you should have about 6 cups—and put it into a large pot. Add the onion, diced apple, apple cider and
enough milk just to cover. Bring the
mixture to a low simmer and cook about 30 minutes. Put the soup into a blender or food processor
fitted with a steel blade and blend, in batches, adding milk to bring it to the
consistency you like. Season with nutmeg
and more salt and pepper to taste. Serve
garnished with pecans or pumpkin seeds.
The book is rich with anecdotes of pioneer immigrant
descendents and their remembrances:
bringing in the sheaves at harvest time in Dane County Wisconsin in
1875; boiling potatoes for potato bread; Iowa cinnamon rolls half the size of
your head; St. Lucia Day (December 13) celebrations starring sweet bread; and
making lefse.
I can add my own recollection of gathering black walnuts
with my father at the old Methodist camp at Frontenac. We had to take off the thick yellow/green
outer covering and then attempt to shell them.
The shells were so thick that a hammer was the only way to open
them. Once open, the nutmeats were
stubborn and had to be picked out with a nutpick (unlike the easy English walnut
nutmeats that literally fall out of their shells.) The black, oily substance that gives the
black walnut its distinctive odor and taste also stained everything near
it—most especially your hands. Sadly, I think just because of this experience,
although black walnuts are considered a delicacy by most people, I can’t stand
them.
For anyone who descended from immigrants to the Northern
Heartland, this book is bound to be fascinating. It’s full of old photographs, reminiscences
and, of course, wonderful recipes.
