Tag Archives: Revolutionary War

Monmouth Overview

17 Monday Jun 2013

Posted by in Events, Reenacting

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Cricket!

Yes, I’m tired, but what a great weekend. Even Cricket seems to have been happy. (Yes, I know pugs don’t smile and I know brachycephalic dogs have a hard time breathing, and Cricket was hot, but he did also seem pretty happy to be out in a field under a tree.) The worst of it was getting there: what should have been a 4-5 hour trip took 7 and a quarter hours, thank you New Jersey Turnpike shore traffic. Even people who left New England at 10 had 6-hour journeys, so leaving earlier would not have helped. Also, we would not have been ready as there were very last-minute gear and food assemblies required. This lengthy journey did allow us the chance to play an extended game of “what the hell is that smell?” The unfortunate winner turned out to be Mr S, who guessed cat pee, but that’s a story for another post, or perhaps for Jackson Galaxy.

Mr S on “Chair” made from stacked firewood. It works.

After erecting tents in the gloaming, including one we’d not been able to check out at home due to heavy work schedules and slight matter of incessant rain, we crashed in our clothes on straw beds and made it to Saturday. Saturday brought coffee, thank goodness, and thanks to Tew’s Company’s willingness to share their fire. (Fire good.) I finally found the camp kitchens on the map, but never walked out to them—happy trails militia folks, but the earthen kitchens were too far from our part of the Continental camp to be really practical. So we made like light infantry and perched on firewood under a tree, ate cold rations and scammed off the hat regiment.

Coming off the field, Sunday

There were plenty of sutlers, but I did not buy 5 yards of the cross barred white and blue at Burnley & Trowbridge to replicate the oyster seller gown because really, first I have to make the black heart cherry gown. I did buy a new hat and ribbon, and pair of more appropriate shears, and most satisfying of all, shoes. I have Burnley and Trowbridge shoes, and while the width is fine and narrow, the length is not and arch support is absent. By the end of a day, my feet and I are miserable, which reduces my stamina and increases my hip pain. (I have arthritis, and had my right hip replaced 2-and-a-half years ago; I’m not that old, but my femoral heads have high mileage.) On the recommendation of several friends, and despite the rubber heels, I tried Flying Canoe shoes. Though a trifle wide, the length was right and I was sold. They vastly improved my outlook and stamina, so were worth the heel cap compromise, with many thanks to my mother for an early birthday present she doesn’t yet know she bought me.

Starting to pack

So, topics for this week in some form and combination:

  • 18th century sno-cones
  • A sense of belonging
  • Future menu plans
  • The public and the spectacle
  • Monmouth Battlefield State Park Visitor Center Design
  • Shopping & Visiting
  • Bed sacks
  • There will be laundry

In the meantime, pictures are on Flickr. Lesson for today: Do not turn your back after giving a man your camera.

Time Traveling

14 Friday Jun 2013

Posted by in Events, Living History

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Girl with Pack Horse, Paul Sandby. YCBA B2001.2.1167

Once again headed south, this time with a more fully loaded vehicle and the Gentlemen of chez Calash. We shall return stinking and happy, I hope, and if not, there should be a good story in it. Farewell to any HSF Princess Dress dreams, and hello to Anne Carrowle, runaway, who still needs to re-set her sleeves but instead finished a pocket and fringe and basting and baking. Fingers crossed for good weather and happy camping.

Monmouth Menus

12 Wednesday Jun 2013

Posted by in Events, Food, Living History, Reenacting

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Food: It is always on my mind, even cataloging. When the tan and brown and black colors of a sampler make me think of Tiramisu,  I know it’s time to wrap up work for the day. But food is particularly on my mind this week, as I plan and calculate for Monmouth, hoping to use the lessons I’ve learned in the past instead of just being anxious. I know it’s not a test, but it feels like one, somehow.

The Young Mr has aged suddenly, in Don Draper’s kitchen.

Continental rations were supposed to be a pound of beef and a pound of flour a day for man, half that for a woman employed by the army and a quarter of that for a child. The Young Mr (who isn’t really a child and is sort of a soldier) would get more if he was really a drummer… but in any case, we’re looking at 2 + ½ + ¼ or 2 ¾ pounds of beef and the equivalent of flour at a minimum to feed two soldiers, a woman, and a child per day (at a minimum, I expect to feed the adjutant as well as ourselves).

I float out ideas like fire cake or pudding to take account of the flour, but Mr S reels me in and suggests that we should stick to what we know until we can test other ideas on the landlord’s fire pit. We shall substitute bread, therefore, and I probably will not make a nuisance of myself at the bakery or the grocery and ask them to weigh the loaves, as I have my own kitchen scale and can obsess about this in the comfort of our home.

Too fancy! From the Complete Housewife.

Too fancy! From the Complete Housewife.

My plan is about the same as every camp dining plan: that’s suitable, given the repetitive nature of Army rations (and the repetitive complaints of the soldiers, echoed in every war).

Friday
Pasties. They keep and travel well.

Saturday Morning
Bread, cheese, strawberries, eggs
Ideally, I’ll find a farm stand where I can buy local strawberries, but we will only get into a discussion of what exactly would have been in season on New Jersey in June 1778, which leads to a discussion of global heating.

Saturday Lunch
Bread, cheese, ham, cookies from home

Saturday Dinner
Beef stew and bread, strawberries, cookies from home

Sunday Morning
Bread, cheese, fruit, eggs

Sunday Lunch
Bread cheese, ham, and anything that’s left

This is essentially the same plan that I had for OSV last year, with the biggest sticking points being: will I remember the eggs? Will I manage coffee? I’m not very good at anything until I have coffee, or some kind of caffeine, which could be a challenge this time around. There’s an ice truck scheduled to go through the camps, but what I want to know is, when’s the coffee truck coming?

New Model Army Stove

11 Tuesday Jun 2013

Posted by in Events, Food, Living History, Reenacting

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From the BAR FB page.

From the BAR FB page.

Cooking and eating will be different at Monmouth, because there will be camp kitchens.

This means two things that give me stomachaches: trying something new in public and sharing with strangers. How to alleviate this discomfort? Research, of course, because we don’t think our landlord wants to have an 18th century camp kitchen in our yard, even as an attraction or energy saving option. (Nor have we figured out how to ask him about the hanging-chicken-cooking experiment we want to try using the metal fire pit he lights for snuggling with his many girlfriends.) For more on camp kitchens, you can read John U. Rees’s article here, or check out the work done on the common British soldier in America by the 18th century Material Culture Center.

"D" are the kitchens.

The circles are the kitchens.

With a camp kitchen, we can leave our three sticks at home. Kitchens are also far more authentic for a large camp (see the plan from von Steuben at right). I’ve also read that it’s quicker than cooking over an open fire, which is a plus.

A large heap of earth cannot be good in a downpour.

A large heap of earth cannot be good in a downpour.

The main downside that I can see to a camp kitchen is rain: from the photo and this drawing, you can imagine for yourself the results of a downpour. At least it’s going to be drier there by the end of the week…

5 Days till Monmouth

10 Monday Jun 2013

Posted by in Clothing, Events, Living History, Making Things

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This is not Cassandra's idea of a nice frock.

This is not Cassandra’s idea of a nice frock.

Cassandra doesn’t like wearing uniforms and bayonets. She wants to wear a dress. She will have to be patient. (Actually, she is wearing a chintz jacket in need of a hem, and if I revolt against buttonholes, I might finish that tonight. More fringe must be made this evening for the hunting frock.)

I switched to Mr S’s overalls for awhile, and we’ve done the first fitting, which gets us to buttonholes and then re-basting the inseam and outseam. In the process, I discovered that he does, in fact, have a twisty leg. I do not think it is statistically probable that the two pairs of overalls I have cut for him and the pair cut by Mr Cooke would all include the same slightly on the bias leg. So I reversed my plans to get those done, and will stick with getting them to fitting number two. They will need a master’s hand and eye for fitting.

Sunday: One last strip o' fringe required.

Sunday: One last strip o’ fringe required.

But I think I have a plan for food for Monmouth, have confessed to Mr S that, based on the Monmouth sutler list, we must leave room in the car for possible additions to the Strategic Fabric Reserve, and have convinced the child to try learning a new song on the drum. I also started a new pocket, but I’m not sure if my hands can take the backstitching. Slipstitching and whipstitching aren’t too painful, but backstitching proved quite painful last night. It’s totally annoying, because it’s pointless to post a photo until it’s done and right-side out!

You can see the binding, but not the stripes. Silly!

You can see the binding, but not the stripes. Silly!

But this will be a panicky, intense week of samplers, reference, grant applications, and event prep. I suppose that’s not too different from many other weeks…though the last time I had this combination, we were only going to Sturbridge. I took comfort in the idea of how close we were to home, the way the cat knows how long it takes to dash to the basement when the doorbell rings. From Monmouth, it’s a long way back to my own basement.