Museum Foodies: The Lynchburg Museum System Shares Our Favorite Food Traditions, Part Five
We think the holidays are a good time to reflect on something that connects people from all walks of life -- food. Read this series to discover a grandmother’s biscuit recipe, a dog’s favorite treat, and other food memories we treasure.
History is not just stories from long ago. We believe traditions are a kind of present-day history, so we would love to hear your favorite food traditions, too. Comment below or tag us on social media. How are you making local history?
Memories of Wildway
By Olive Taylor Cardwell, Local Folk Artist
This Olive Cardwell figurine, called “Pigfeeding Time,” is made from walnuts, fabric, wood pieces, and acorns, among other natural materials
The following is an excerpt from an unpublished memoir written by Olive Cardwell (1897-1991). Cardwell was a local artist known for her wire armature dolls depicting plantation life. She spent the first nine years of her life on her father’s Appomattox plantation, named Wildway. The family also owned a country store on their property. Cardwell wrote this piece later in life after a visit to Wildway, her “first trip up there in sixty one years,” she writes.
*Note: This excerpt has been edited for punctuation and spelling.
We had the store where everyone came to buy. If we needed anything we went to the store. Papa bought hats, shoes, clothes, and wearing apparel for us, and the shelves were full of all foods needed to cook with and things we could not raise on the farm. I don’t remember in those years money nor needing any; we had it all on the plantation and in the store, or so I thought. There again is the excitement of youth -- what we do not know gives us no worry. But that was my heritage, and that is why I go back to Wildway to remember.
We went next into the cook room. We call it the kitchen now, but in those days it was the cook room. I saw where the old-fashioned wood stove was and the door to the back porch. I remembered Aunt Frances giving us a cup of broth and bread to break up in it. I tried to visualize the big, black iron pot we used to cook hens in on top of the stove. Aunt Frances would put the dressed hen or rooster into the pot, fill it to the top with water, and salt to taste. Then the hen would boil until ready to drop from bones, and with all that stock she would give each of us little ones a cup with bread to break up in it. Good is not the word -- I thought it was greatest treat anyone could have. I tried to find the steps, near the stove somewhere, leading to dining room where I was sitting one day playing dolls. Somebody took a steaming pot lid from the stove, and the steam burned my back badly and all the kitchen help scrapped raw Irish potatoes to make a plaster for the burn. What a time to remember, these short minutes I had in the cook room. It is not the real important events that we remember always, but maybe a look, a word, or some scene that lingers and we keep going back to think upon.
Read more about Cardwell’s life and artwork here, and stop by the Old Court House to view a display of her wire armature dolls.
Miss Fanny’s Spiced Gingercake
By Ted Delaney, Museum Director & Chief Public History Officer
Buried deep within a large collection of old papers, portraits, and family memorabilia donated to the Museum in 2009 was a small, almost forgotten treasure: a handwritten book of recipes from various Lynchburg women from around 1875. It is full of intriguing dishes, including “Pickled Oysters” and “Green Sweetmeats”—all recorded in beautiful manuscript. “Spiced Gingercake” caught my eye as having very two important qualities: it looked appetizing and relatively easy to make. I am not a cook.
My first challenge was to convert pounds to cups for some of the dry ingredients. Thanks to Google, I did not need a kitchen scale. The rest of the recipe proceeded smoothly until I got to the oven. No oven temperature was specified, nor was the size of the baking “moulds.” I guessed 350° for 60 minutes in a standard bundt cake pan. While the cake was baking, my entire house was perfumed with the most amazing fragrance. This ginger cake definitely earns the title “spiced.”
My interpretation of the 150-year-old recipe was almost flawless, except for the combination of pan and baking time. In order to cook the center thoroughly, the cake needed 15 more minutes (75 total). However, by that point, the outer edges had burned. The next time I make this, I will divide the batter into two bundt pans and try cooking each for 45–60 minutes.
Ingredients:
Miss Fanny’s Spiced Gingercake as it appears in Mollie Forsberg’s recipe book, circa 1875
1½ lbs. flour (approx. 5½ cups)
½ lb. brown sugar
4 eggs
½ lb. butter
1 tea cup milk (approx. 1 cup) (probably whole milk to be accurate)
1 pint (16 oz.) molasses
1 teaspoon baking soda
“A little salt” (approx. ½ teaspoon)
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 grated nutmeg (approx. ½–1 teaspoon)
1 tablespoon ground cloves
2 tablespoons ground ginger
Directions:
“This quantity will make two cakes. Have your moulds well greased in every part or the molasses will cause the cakes to stick and break. If you make this quantity into two cakes, leave them in the oven an hour; if in one cake, it must remain an hour and a quarter.”
This recipe has clearly stood the test of time. The “un-burnt” portions of the cake were delicious, and I can recommend it to anyone who likes ginger or molasses cakes. To me, the recipe is even more appealing when you know the story behind it.
The recipe book has no label or title, but it most likely belonged to Mary “Mollie” Morgan Otey Forsberg (1839–1918). Forsberg was a lifelong Lynchburg resident and wife of City Engineer Col. August Forsberg. Most of the recipes are attributed to specific women, including some well-known Lynchburg names (like Lucy Wilhelmina “Mina” Otey).
Forsberg identified the “Spiced Gingercake” as from the kitchen of “Miss F. W. Morford.” Frances Witherspoon “Miss Fanny” Morford (1793–1879) was Mollie Forsberg’s aunt. Although she lived half of her life in Lynchburg, Morford was a native of Princeton, New Jersey. She came from an old Princeton family that was involved in the founding of the university there. Morford was the postmistress of Princeton for ten years before moving to Lynchburg to live with her two younger sisters in 1835. There is no indication she had a formal occupation in Lynchburg. According to family historians, she received her father’s Revolutionary War pension after he died, since his wife predeceased him and she was his eldest surviving daughter.
“Miss Fanny” lived with her sister and brother-in-law Juliet and Amos Botsford, both school teachers. Amos, a native of Newtown, Connecticut, was the principal of one of the first three African American public schools in Lynchburg. Morford was a devout member of First Presbyterian Church, known for her “singular piety.” She died in 1879 and was buried in the family plot of her sister Juliet Morford Botsford in Lynchburg’s Presbyterian Cemetery.
I like to think Miss Fanny’s Spiced Gingercake came with her from Princeton. Perhaps it is an old New England recipe from the 18th century. Maybe it came from her ancestors in Old England. Regardless, it reminds us that food transcends boundaries of time and place. Food can connect us to the past in surprising ways.
This blog concludes our Museum Foodies series. Thank you for reading about food traditions we enjoy, and visit our museums soon to experience more local history!