New Year's Tea



On New Year's day I sometimes like to have a tea party, using a few of my favorite porcelain and silver pieces to serve a variety of sweets and savories. The day's tea menu rests on an English porcelain menu stand, a charming 6" high table accessory from the 19th century. Although neither menus nor such accompanying stanchions are used in domestic settings today, these were once useful articles of dining that revealed the coming meal, and its inherent social expectations, to guests. Menu stands first appeared after 1870 in England and America, correlating with revisions to established dining rituals.


Handpainted Porcelain Menu Board, C.T. Maling, England, 1875-1908.



At Table: Using Menus in the 19th Century

Whether in elite or middle-class homes, eating at the 19th century Euro-American dining table involved a delicate negotiation of prevailing class mores-- a social drama enacted between the hosts and their guests. The handling of utensils and food was subtly observed and critiqued with regard to prescribed decorum. Dining manuals were published regularly, describing the correct procedures for hosts and guests to follow. It was not until the third quarter of the 19th century that dining fashions shifted in England and America, catching up with continental European trends.

Until the 1870s, the longstanding English dining custom had followed service à la francaise, in which the entire meal was first placed on the dining room sideboard, a brilliant, conspicuous display that unfortunately also meant one's food was usually cold by the time it was served at table. Service à la russe was introduced in France in the early part of the century, via the Russian court, and finally caught on in England and then in America after the 1860s. In this manner of presentation (most closely resembling today's) diners are seated at a table, often extravagantly decorated with floral and sweetmeat arrangements. Dishes are brought out and served in individually apportioned courses once they are prepared, and the serving pieces and food-specific eating implements are duly changed in anticipation of the next course's requirements.

Despite the advantages of service à la russe, diners were initially reluctant to change styles. As Esther Aresty frames the argument in The Exquisite Table: A History of French Cuisine (New York: Bobbs-Merrill, 1980), "how could one judge what quantity to eat of a dish, not knowing what was to follow-- and even more important, how could one adequately measure the bounty of a host?" (101). With these thoughts in mind, the daintily rendered menu card and its stand provided diners with a literal preview of the meal to follow. An entry in one 19th century treatise on domestic management reads:

Menus, or Bills of Fare.-- These are generally placed by the side of each individual, so that he may know at once what is to be set before him, and may partake of that which he most approves. A small menu stand, containing the bill of fare, may be placed before each guest, and most beautiful and artistic cards are sold upon which the order of the dinner can be written. The task of drawing up the bill of fare is generally undertaken by the mistress of the house or by the experienced cook to whom she trusts the execution of her orders. Knowledge, taste and judgment are called for in its accomplishment, and the crowning honor of a successful banquet certainly belongs to the person who conceived the idea of it...Menus may be made as souvenirs by the hostess, being either hand-painted or embroidered.
--Scammell's Universal Treasure-House of Useful Knowledge: an encyclopedia of valuable receipts in the principal arts of life, 1885, published by H.A. Hess of Salt Lake City in 1889.

Several sample menus are then provided, of which the seasonal tea menu is shown below:



By the turn of the century, menu stands became a common feature at dinner gatherings and silver menu stands were often presented to guests at commemorative events.


Silver Menu Stands, Goldsmiths & Silversmiths Co. Catalogue, 1899, London.

Eating out came into fashion in the latter part of the century in relation to new dining habits, and table menus and stands became a feature of restaurant establishments. This novel requisite of the table provided a platform for invention as seen in an 1883 patent for a napkin ring cum menu holder, below.


Indeed, the menu stand took on a few uses beyond the obvious. As one column in the periodical "Table Talk" quips, "The inventor of the menu-holder, with mirror back, was undoubtedly a woman. She understood the value of a sly look at hair, flowers and complexion. It is such a tonic to wit and conversation to be assured one is looking their best. ("Table Talk," Vol. 7, 1892)

"And the Dish Ran Away With the Spoon": Mythical Foodscapes in Children's Literature
Part I: Utensia




Although there have been few scholarly publications devoted to representations of food in literature, the subject has begun to receive greater attention in recent years. Children's literature offers a particularly interesting focus, for in stories of make-believe, food may be conjured in infinite variety. In many examples of such works, food bridges the fantastic and the quotidian- a banal ritual in an extraordinary manifestation. Food frequently provides the medium through which a character enters an elusive world, often occupied by talking animals, mythical beasts, and ambulatory objects. These foodscapes of the imagination become the entrance to marvelous adventures.

In Alice and Wonderland, for instance, after falling down a rabbit hole, Alice encounters a bottle marked 'Drink Me' and a cake marked 'Eat Me' which, after ingesting, cause her body to in turn shrink and then grow rapidly, hinting at the absurdites to follow. As in other tales and fables such as that of Hansel and Gretel, food is the conduit through which characters undergo a physical and/or mental transformation that translates their ordinary corporeality into the fantasy world.

In The Emerald City of Oz (1910), the sixth book in L. Frank Baum's chronicle of the Land of Oz, Chapter 16, "How Dorothy Visited Utensia," brings the main character, Dorothy, to the Kingdom of Utensia while traveling through the landscapes of Oz. Captured by a brigade of spoons, Dorothy, her dog Toto, and the yellow hen Billina, are taken to a land with a population made up entirely of kitchen utensils, ruled by King Kleaver. As the king and his subjects try to determine what to do with the prisoners, Dorothy is introduced to the various utensils around her. There is, for instance, the High Priest Colander, titled so because "He's the holiest thing we have in the kingdom" and the pepperbox, Mr. Piquant, who brashly condemns Dorothy to be killed three times, to which King Kleaver tempers with "Your remarks are piquant and highly-seasoned, but you need a scattering of commonsense. It is only necessary to kill a person once to make him dead; but I do not see that it is necessary to kill this little girl at all."

As the utensils disagree about Dorothy's predicament, each reveals a mirthful license. The corkscrew tries to weigh in, stating "I'm a lawyer...I am accustomed to appear at the bar" and the flatiron attempts to "smooth this thing over." Curiously, Utensia is characterized by an absence of food, perhaps explaining the boredom felt by the captain of the spoons brigade, charging that in capturing Dorothy he intended "To create some excitement...It is so quiet here that we are all getting rusty for want of amusement. For my part, I prefer to see stirring times." After Dorothy, Toto, and Billina are released and permitted to leave, they go into the forest to pick blackberries, for Dorothy is hungry and according to King Kleaver, "There isn't a morsel to eat in all Utensia, that I know of."

Despite, or because of its lack of food, Utensia is very much about the food that is not there. Although the utensils can move and talk, they are unable to prepare food, suggesting that it is their inability to cook that most strikingly separates them from the human world. Indeed, without their comestible partners the cookware and utensils are without purpose and somewhat forlorn. The flatiron reminds everyone, "We are supposed to be useful to mankind, you know." Hence, it is the idea of food and its preparation that engages the reader. The image of food itself is left to the reader's imagination.


Culinary Ephemera: The Cookie Cutter Wheel

At the Museum of Modern Art's Counter Space show, mentioned in the last post, a small utensil from the 1950's caught my attention. Known as a cookie cutter wheel, it is composed of several cookie cutter shapes fitted onto the spokes of a wheel, with a plastic handle. This simple contraption would allow the home baker to quickly and effortlessly stamp out a chain of perfectly cut cookies by rolling the wheel over the cookie dough as with a rolling pin. Although this piece is not included on the Counter Space website, I found an image of a similar vintage model here. While kitchen gadgetry is not unique to the 20th century, the low-tech, and indeed superfluous cookie cutter wheel typifies a period when domestic efficiency was marketed through an increasing array of modern appliances.

One method of promoting such kitchen tools was to align the product with a food manufacturer. A patent for a cookie cutter wheel was filed on October 6th, 1925 and issued in September of 1929 to inventor Cleveland P. Carney with the Calumet Baking Powder Company (est. 1889) acting as assignee. By matching up comestible products such as baking powder with associated gadgets, manufacturers could generate and reinforce consumer interest in both commodities, thereby saturating the kitchen with a range of commercial goods.