Category Archives: Living History

Sturbridge: Always Something to Learn

06 Tuesday Aug 2013

Posted by in Events, Living History, Reenacting

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Adorable, right? But so very miserable.

This year, it was about anxiety.

After some too-public parenting and a minor diversion home and back to Sturbridge this past weekend, I can say that yet another event has taught me yet another set of lessons.

To wit:

  • Adolescents do not think clearly and will not tell you what is going on except under duress. Expect tears.
  • Keep the kid busy.
  • First aid help exists, use it.
  • Pack Gatorade.
  • Bed sacks increase warmth and comfort immensely.

The Young Mr, seen above in Full Pout Mode, had a roiling head full of anxiety made worse by heat and dehydration, for which he refused water and the suggestion of luxuriating in the air conditioned splendor of the upholstered sofette in the lobby of the Bullard Tavern. He made it through one activity and then I took him home because he felt so unwell, complaining of a headache and a stomach ache and feeling hot and then cold that I thought he was really ill. (We’ve had some tense “will-he-or-won’t-he puke-in-my-purse” train rides home, so I tend to overreact.)

Here he is as the ensign, displaying the colors.

Not until Auburn and a large bottle of Gatorade later, when suddenly his stomachache and headache were gone, did I figure out that it was mild heat exhaustion and anxiety, not flu or something worse. And then realized I could have taken him to the first aid station instead of home. But, once home, after a nap and a fight and a dish of curry, he’d promised to go back up on Sunday, which was much better.

Their lyrics were hilarious.

Again, he got to serve as ensign and carry the colors, marching behind the guys as they sang their way through the village. But somehow, Sunday, everything seemed better than it had the day before, when he hadn’t told me how much he fears the start of high school, and how worried he is about his future.  No more reading the New York Times for him…

This isn’t the costume or action report you might want, but living history with an adolescent is challenging. The Young Mr is just too young to field (he’s only 14 but almost 15) and he doesn’t want to be a drummer. It’s a challenge to find things that he can legally and safely do that integrate him into the unit of guys, which is what he really craves. Perhaps it’s because he gets to try out what it’s like to be a man, while still being a boy.

In a Pickle

01 Thursday Aug 2013

Posted by in Food, Living History

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Yes, for breakfast.

I like pickles. I don’t like being in a pickle, and I have to say that work this week has been as bitter-tasting as any week since February, so it’s a fine thing that the pickles I made last weekend are ready for eating.

The recipe is based on the Hannah Glasse recipe my co-commissariat made for Cambridge, and which I sampled in the NPS staff kitchen. I thought they were delicious, and so proceeded to make my own version, with some variations.

Here’s my version:

  • 3 large cucumbers
  • 1 medium onion
  • white vinegar
  • salt
  • whole peppercorns
  • fresh ginger
  • ground mace

Slice the cucumbers and onion thinly and evenly (I used my old Martha Stewart Everyday mandolin from K-Mart). Layer alternately, sprinkling with salt, in a shallow dish or bowl, and cover, for 24 hours, in the fridge. Drain in a colander, pressing with paper towel to remove excess water.

Place the drained cucumber and onion slices in a bowl and cover with white vinegar for at least four hours, or while you go to work and are unable to leave early as you had planned. Pour the vinegar into a saucepan and boil with a little salt.

Peel and slice the ginger into sticks, and add to the cucumbers and onion. Sprinkle all with mace to taste, and add whole peppercorns as desired. Pour the boiled vinegar over all, decant into clean, boiled jars and seal.

I tasted these first over the weekend, and they were strong and spicy! The ginger made them a little hotter and sweeter than the ones I had in Cambridge. They seem a little mellower now (I had some with breakfast this morning) and I think they will be OK at OSV this weekend…if I take them. Glass jars seem crazy to pack for camping.

Tentage

26 Friday Jul 2013

Posted by in Events, Living History, Making Things, Museums, Research

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Scene of the Camp on Hampton Green, 1781

Scene of the Camp on Hampton Green, 1781

Like many other reenactors/living historians/suckers for wool in summer, I’ve been following the First Oval Office project with interest and envy. Imagine my delight upon finding this blog by Tyler Rudd Putman, who is working on that and many other projects of interest.
The common tent project l is one that I really do hope to take on someday, though I doubt I can ever achieve a tent of this level of quality. (Reader, I cannot weave.) But I can aspire, at the least, and I see that a hand-sewn tent is something even I can achieve. It won’t get done by me in just one day, but over the course of several weeks I could get one done as long as I cleared the downstairs of all our furniture, and put up with a cat sewn into a seam. (My assistant has been lying down on the job, melting in the heat.)

The Howling Assistant Lies Down on the Job

I’ve been thinking about tents since the after-dark hilarity at Monmouth setting up an unknown tent in the dark with a brittle pole that had to be repaired with string from a pasty wrapper, and the later perhaps over-zealous cleaning by Mr S of the tent abused by a cat and identified on the NJ turnpike’s extended play of “What the Hell’s that Smell?”

I’m not sure why we’re allowed to remain in our regiments, really, I am not. But I suspect that an ability to produce Chesire Pork pie is a factor in our favor.

We’ll be setting up tents at OSV in just about a week, broken pole and all, and looking ahead to that, I give you the following links for further reading on tents.

John U. Rees on tents in both armies of the Revolution.

How to fold a tent.

Period (British) images.

Even more documentaton: scrolling down, Rhode Islan had a return of 147 tents in May, 1781– that’s about 882 soldiers, at 6 men per tent, a max of 1029 at 7 men per tent. (At least one is always on duty, so there would not be more than 5 or 6 sleeping at any one time).

Amazing and image-rich essay, The Tent Article

Lochee, Essay on Castremetation, which I read and forget by the time it is dark and some man is trying to reason with me about how a camp should be arranged, when all I want to do is sleep. With that in mind, a brush arbor is starting to look good…

Flummery, and other flimsy excuses

22 Monday Jul 2013

Posted by in Food, Living History, Making Things

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Flummery, in Oest India bowls.

We did not go to Salem. If you were there, you already know this. Mr S was only willing to go up on Saturday, but I wanted to go on Sunday. After looking at the schedule, we couldn’t figure out why the Young Mr would ever want to go. A bored teenager is a terrible thing to be around. So what did we do instead?

We cleaned, for one thing. We laid in provisions, which disappear at an alarming rate each week. We went to the weird antique place and found a brass kettle and a copper skillet. We went to the lumberyard, twice, and bought lumber, once. We did several loads of laundry. (By now, I know you are incredibly jealous of this glamorous lifestyle; I assure you, it gets better.) I cleaned the bathrooms and replaced the shower curtain.

Served!

What incredible banality! But this is what the kid wants: weekends where we are home, cooking and cleaning and being normal. At a certain point, if I cannot figure out what he’ll do at an event and assure him that he will be busy, he does not want to go. (Not that I blame him, for I like to be busy as well.) So a weekend of normal, when we have drilling next week and OSV the next, is probably worth having, for family peace.

Of course, I’d rather be busy in another century, so I cleaned the tub early and moved on to more engaging tasks, flummery, for one.

The guys weren’t sure about this at first, but it is fabulous. It would make an excellent “blood” pudding for a vicious pirate banquet. The recipe is ridiculously easy.

Blackberry Flummery
4 Cups Blackberries
2/3 cup sugar (up to ¾ cup if you prefer sweeter)
½ cup hot water
Juice from ½ lemon, strained of seeds
½ cup cold water or milk
2 T corn starch (AKA corn flour if you’re not in the US; the fine white stuff)

Excellent with cream.

Wash the blackberries and put into a large saucepan with sugar and hot water over medium high heat. Bring to a soft boil and cook until the fruit is soft and falling apart.
Remove from heat, and push through a fine sieve with a spoon. Discard seeds and cores.

In a small bowl, whisk cornstarch into milk or water.

Return fruit to pan and place over heat, bringing to a soft boil again. Stir in cornstarch mixture until completely blended and fruit begins to thicken.

Slowly stir in lemon juice, taking care to keep fruit from thinning or thickening too much.
When blended, remove from heat.

Pour into 3 to 8 individual ceramic or glass serving dishes; portions will depend on audience.
Chill for at least two hours. Serve with whipped cream or yogurt.

Almost gone!

I made three servings, because I thought that was right, but I think six would have been better, based on intensity rather than richness. Not to worry: we ate it all.

Cooking this up is easy, but the blackberry mixture does have a tendency to get everywhere and make you and your kitchen look like your hobby is home butchery. Don’t wear white, and keep your sponge handy.

Washington’s Army En-scamp-ment

17 Wednesday Jul 2013

Posted by in Events, Living History, Reenacting

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It is known that the troops serving as the Army of Observation in the months after Lexington and Concord lacked discipline. General Washington found them sorely wanting when he took command of what became the Continental Army, superseding General Artemus Ward. You can read the measures Washington put in place here, from Artemus Ward’s orderly book in the collections of the Massachusetts Historical Society.

This lad became Washington’s Aide-de-camp, scampering out of trouble…barely….

When you have this kind of documentation, it makes recreating an event that much easier, and more fun. (We did note that sometimes striving for authenticity makes us behave very seriously; perhaps a little more fun is in order.)

Luckily for us, the Young Mr was assigned to be General Washington’s aide-de-camp. Aide-de-scamp would be more like it. He thoroughly enjoyed carrying the General’s equipment and accouterments, handling the items with obvious care and confusion–he was clearly impressed by what he was carrying, acted (rightly) as if he’d never seen things so fine, and then proceeded to place them carefully on the ground outside the general’s tent…respectful but not quite right, thus a little disappointing, but setting the proper tone.

After lunch, the sergeant standing guard caught the aide-de-camp stealing fruit from the general’s table. This made a fine show with the sergeant yelling at the aide-de-scamp and shaking him by the scruff of his jacket (the sergeant being shorter than the scamp). The scamp continued to eat the peach, but it was ripe, and part of it went flying off the pit, fortunately not into the sergeant’s face. All were pleased by this little scene, no one more than the scamp.

The Lexington Training Band was busted for card playing, and for drying their dirty laundry on the general’s tent. The scamp was accused of stealing stockings, and chased, in another very satisfying scene. Next weekend, he’ll have General Gage to reckon with. I expect to find him in irons.