Historical Eating

My Possessed mystery novels are half-historical, and feature a present-day heroine, Pat Montella, whose chief hobby is cooking. It stands to reason that Pat would eventually become fascinated with historical recipes, and that I'd have to delve more into that branch of research for each book.

In POISON TO PURGE MELANCHOLY, Pat learns what goes into elaborate 18th century dinner parties. You have to love an era that believed in two dessert courses. Research for this involved not only studying colonial cookbooks and experimenting with recipes, but eating out at Philadelphia's City Tavern and all of Historic Williamsburg's taverns. One must suffer for one's art.

But it's not all fancy viands. Pat's latest adventure, FEAR ITSELF, takes place partially in 1933. I had to research what immigrant Italian families on the poor side of town ate in the midst of the Great Depression. My parents were my main resources here.

My dad and his brothers' did odd jobs for the macaroni factory down the street and were paid in pasta and Parmesan. Not having meat, their mother varied her tomato sauce each night--sometimes adding onions or lentils or peas, or whatever beans were on sale that week. Once in a while his dad would bring home a chicken for Sunday dinner. One chicken to feed a family of 10.

My mom's family was smaller--only 5--but also poorer. My grandmother would scramble an egg or two in tomato sauce to make a sort of lumpy stew. (My mom used to make this for me for lunch sometimes. With decent sauce and grated cheese, it's actually a great warm meal on a winter's day.) If they could get bologna, my grandmother would fry it with egg to make it go farther. My grandpop eventually got a job at a bakery. I'm guessing he brought home bread, but my mom only recalled the warm donuts.

Just this month, I found a great blog on the subject of eating through history called Four Pounds Flour. Historic gastronomist Sarah Lohman covers topics from importing in the early 19th century to the roots of the Jello shot. Once in a while, she bravely engages in culinary living history, such as eating like a poor 1877 tenement dweller for a week, or her "Drink Like A Colonial American" day.  I highly recommend this blog, especially for all you historical fiction writers out there who spend tons of time researching wardrobe, vehicles, houses, etc., but take food for granted.

Besides, food research is fun.

I think I'll have go have eggs in tomato sauce for lunch. Find the recipe on Miss Maggie's Facebook page.

Mangia,
Elena

The Quest for Saints and Scoundrels

Pat Montella, the protagonist in my Possessed Mystery Series, mentions her gene pool quite a bit. Coming from a huge Italian family, researching her family tree was a survival tactic. I know because I resort to the same tactic when trying to keep straight my 32 first cousins and their families, and at least double that number of second cousins.

The knowledge also comes in handy as a functional database of hereditary health problems. It's an affirmation, too. Looking over my kin and our ancestors, I find good storytellers, musicians, science geeks, and kind, caring people.

Ancestral surprises are a recurring theme in of my Possessed novels. Pat found new branches on her family tree in both By Blood Possessed and Fear Itself. Other series characters like Miss Maggie and the Lees, were enlightened about their ancestors in Hang My Head and Cry and Poison to Purge Melancholy.

That's the intriguing thing about genealogy. Surprises are fairly common because so few of us know much about our families before our grand- or great-grandparents. For a writer, this can also be a great story fodder.

A month ago, I was amazed to learn that my family likely has heredity dwarfism in our DNA. Simply put, it's a pituitary growth deficiency, and sometimes it only affects parts of the body. I always knew we were short--my dad and his brother Charlie, at 5'4", were the tallest of their siblings. Their mother was 4'8". But this may explain why every dentist I've visited in the last 25 years has told me I have tiny teeth. One cousin said she could picture us coming from a race of court jesters. I'm not sure. If our progenitors told jokes as badly as our family does now, they would have been beheaded before they could procreate. Still, I can believe I come from a race of hammy actors who could sing, tell a yarn and do acrobatics.

I've read that amateur genealogists come in two flavors: those searching their family tree for famous or heroic kin, and those looking for scoundrels and black sheep. I'm not sure which I am. I think I'm simply in it for the stories.

If you've explored your family tree, what was your motive?

Peace,
Elena (short and proud of it)

Answers to 3rd Quiz

Here are the correct answers to Miss Maggie's 18th century quiz:

1. Elixir of vitriol was made from alcohol, "aromatics" (usually ginger or cinnamon), and sulfuric acid.  Yum. Makes castor oil sound like dessert.

2. The general who led Continental troops down the Williamsburg peninsula, tailing British general Cornwallis was Lafayette.  Washington was up north, keeping New York and Philadelphia safe while he coordinated the addition of French troops to the Continental ranks.  He joined Lafayette 2 months later at Yorktown.

3.  The 18th century anthology Pills to Purge Melancholy contained bawdy songs.

We have three winners:  Lelia Taylor, Karen Mayers, and J. Haupin.  They will each receive a free copy of the book of their choice by me and be entered in the grand drawing in late April for a free hot-off-the-press copy of FEAR ITSELF.

Peace,

Elena

Never Fear Fear Itself Contest #3 - Win a Free Book!

Here you go:  Quiz 3 of the Never Fear Fear Itself Contest.  The 3rd novel in the Possessed Mystery Series is POISON TO PURGE MELANCHOLY, a trip back in time to 1783 Williamsburg.  In it, you'll find early American Yuletide customs such as mummers' plays, rum punch, and sumptuous dinners, plus a frightening look at medicine, then and now.

Send your answers to the quiz below, along with your full name, to MissMaggieTests@gmail.com.  All entries who ace the quiz will be entered in a drawing to win the free signed book of their choice from the Possessed Mystery Series or DAME AGATHA'S SHORTS.  If you have all 4 books already and can't think of anyone who'd like one as a gift, tell me that on your entry.  Another prize will be selected for you.  If no one aces the quiz, the person with the best score will win.  Entries not selected in this drawing will be eligible for the next drawing.  In April, I'll do a grand prize drawing for a signed copy of FEAR ITSELF, due out at the end of that month.

Only entries sent to MissMaggieTests@gmail.com will be eligible.  Deadline for entries for the quiz below will be March 31, 2011.  Winners will be announced April 1st.

1.  A wealthy man walks into an apothecary and pays a shilling to see the doctor, who prescribes an elixir of vitriol, which the apothecary prepares for the patient.  This elixir is made from alcohol, "aromatics" (usually ginger or cinnamon), and

a)  camphor.

b)  mercury.

c)  sulfuric acid.

d)  aloe.

2.  When the British Army under General Cornwallis marched into Williamsburg on June 25, 1781, many of the residents, fed up with the long war, welcomed them.  Meanwhile, they were followed at a distance by Continental troops under the command of General

a)  Washington.

b)  Lafayette.

c)  Rochambeau.

d)  Wayne.

3.  The mystery novel Poison to Purge Melancholy takes its title from an 18th century publication called Pills to Purge Melancholy, which contained

a)  a list of medications for depression.

b)  herbal remedies for constipation.

c)  chocolate recipes.

d)  bawdy songs.

Peace,

Elena

Contest Results and Working in the Real World

First, I'm pleased to announce that 3 students aced Miss Maggie's Civil War quiz: Debra Eisert, Mary Chamberlain, and Helen Delano.  Since we only had 3 star pupils, I've decided they each should win a free book.  Look here for Contest 2 around the middle of February.

Working in the Real World

One of the first pieces of advice a novice writer hears from the pros is "Don't quit your day job."  So what did I do last month?  I quit my day job.

I've quit at least 4 jobs in my lifetime, yet all for non-writing-related reasons.  This last time was because the job was effecting my health.  Sometimes I've quit because I decided I can't work for people better suited to be the bad guys in my books.  If you've read By Blood Possessed or any of my short stories set in offices, you know how I feel about the bad guys of corporate America.

Still, I'm not by nature a quitter.  I've had a slew of other jobs, all temporary for one reason or another.  Altogether I've been a retail clerk, school teacher, National Park guide, receptionist, data processor, and done every ilk of accounting, filing and other administrative jobs.  Oh, and I've been a proofreader, too. My finest moment was proofreading a brochure for a sex therapy lecture given by Dr. Ruth herself.

My mother would say I still haven't settled down.  Me?  I think I'm the kind of writer who needs to glean experiences from different sources, then move on.  Though, frankly, the need to pay pills tends to make me wait until I'm laid off or the job makes me physically ill or disgusted enough to quit.

I wrote By Blood Possessed while I was unemployed.  Hang My Head and Cry was written mostly in the hiatuses between temp agency jobs.  Poison to Purge Melancholy came together in the idle months before I took my last job.  Book 4, Fear Itself, was written while employed, but at the time, I had a boss who understood that I have a vocation outside of office work.

At the moment, I'm not grieving over the loss of my job.  With all the snow this winter, and the fact that my home parking spot is off of an alley that never gets plowed, it's just as well I don't have a compelling reason leave the house.

Yet I know, eventually, I'll get out there and start looking for gainful employment again.  Not only do I have the need to pay bills, but this writer, anyway, can't write in a vacuum.  It's not simply a matter of needing to observe human nature--I can go sit in a mall food court or ride trains in and out of the city to do that.  The thing is, with each position I've had, I've been thrown in with a diverse group of individuals, from all walks of life.  Some love their jobs.  The majority, at best, only like their jobs.  All are there because they must be or lose their livelihoods, and for some, their healthcare.  All have different motives for needing to keep their jobs.  A workplace, for a writer, is an encyclopedia of human psychology.

So when I say "Don't quit your day job" to a novice writer, I'm not merely commenting on the reality of most writers not being able to make a living from published works.  I'm saying don't take yourself out of the real world.  Your writing will suffer.

Peace,
Elena

English as a Second Language

I wasn't born a writer. In fact, English-wise, I was a B average. Oh, I could slap together a fairly coherent report in whatever subject. If you asked me now--now that I've been a teacher and seen incredibly incoherent writing from students--I guess maybe, even then, I could have been called a writer. But I didn't feel like one. Writing was a tool I used to get through school, and to concoct silly poems and stories during study hall. Now it's a tool to express myself. What do I do with it? I write silly poems and stories. And silly blogs.

Music is different. I remember, when I was in maybe third grade, my mom asked me why I sang all the time. I hadn't realized I did. By the time I was old enough for grade school chorus, I was already harmonizing with every song on the radio, every hymn in church, and with Muzak in department stores. Even if I never heard the song before. Music, I believe, was my first language. I have no idea why. My closest musical ancestor was an uncle who played accordion. Still, I have a brother who composes and two cousins who are singers, so it's in our DNA somewhere.

I put the kind of musicians I know in my novels--people like me who do other things to make a living. In HANG MY HEAD AND CRY, Theo is an aspiring anthropologist, but on the side he does church singing--services, weddings, funerals. POISON TO PURGE MELANCHOLY's main historical character is a fiddler and part-time music master. Series character Beth Ann plays clarinet in her school band. Actually, every science geek I know played in a school band or sang in choir. Not a coincidence. Early school music education feeds the brain in all kinds of ways.

A friend asked me this week if I'd ever do a mystery novel set in the music world. The short answer is, probably not. Musicians, when making music, don't have a murderous bone in them. Music is all about dialogue and communication, and something more--like a genuine meeting of souls. This is why the Arab/Jewish Orchestra can exist, and the Omagh Community Youth Choir of Northern Ireland, which includes kids from all different backgrounds with the aim of promoting peace.

If you'd like to hear some of the great music of these groups, and others from around the world, check out

http://www.playingforchange.com/

Peace, and harmony,
Elena

Healthcare Mayhem

No, I don't mean Cherry Ames.

Informal poll: How many fictional sleuths can you name who worry about their healthcare?

Think about all those "realistic" fictional detectives who are self-employed, down on their luck, and getting beat up/shot at/Mickey-Finned on a daily basis. Shouldn't their writers mention how these tough guys pay their healthcare bills? Aren't chronic concussions a pre-existing condition? Are the Sam Spades of the world even insurable?

In my Possessed Mystery Series, my protagonist Pat Montella doesn't worry about her healthcare; she has panic attacks over it. In book one, BY BLOOD POSSESSED, paramedics ask her if she wants to go to the hospital, she says no, not because she's feeling great, but because the hospital is in a different state than her insurer and she knows getting preapproval will be next to impossible.

Then she's laid off and her Cobra coverage runs out by book 2, HANG MY HEAD AND CRY. The plan she's forced to take up is the kind President Obama calls Acme Insurance--cheap, high deductibles, and doesn't cover much. By book 3, POISON TO PURGE MELANCHOLY, Pat's starting to have odd symptoms, which she ignores because she knows going to a doctor about them will cost more than she can afford. And ironically, her symptoms are caused in part by poor quality healthcare, bordering on medical negligence.

Fiction? Nope, research. Millions of Americans go through this breed of healthcare crap every day. All Pat's experiences are based on my own or on members of my family.

You want healthcare fiction? Listen to politicians who say we've got the best healthcare in the world and that the majority of Americans like the system as it stands. Now that's fiction.

And if you're a mystery writer and you don't want to deal with the reality of healthcare woes these days, better write historicals, or make your sleuth a U.S. Congressman.

Stay well,
Elena

Historical Soundbites

For Christmas, a good friend of mine gave me poster of quotations. I have a love-hate relationship with quotations.

On the hate side, I usually feel their wisdom is too glib. No situation in this complex, confusing world can be solved, or even made much better, with a few perfectly arranged words.

I also hate the lack of context. Regardless of the name under them, they all seem to exist only in the ether. But someone did say them, and that person had something definite on his or her mind at the time. For the same reason, I hate political soundbites, which are ripped from context and hurled at us during campaigns, in an effort to show the speaker in a negative light.
Probably my lifetime of being exposed to political ads is what has made me a bit suspicious of every quotation I meet.

Still, I said this was a love-hate relationship.

When I was doing Civil War research for my novel BY BLOOD POSSESSED, I read diaries and letters of the time. The historical voices of these documents gave life and authenticity to the voices I gave my characters. This helped me write period-sounding dialogue and narrative and, more importantly helped me fill the heads of my characters with period thoughts and motives.

Yet as I read, every once in a while, I was stuck by certain sentences or paragraphs that seemed to strike at the heart of the story I was writing. I began keeping a list of these quotes, at first only as a guide for myself, to keep me focused on the themes and mood of the novel.

As I got into the writing of the book and realized I'd need a way to separate the historic and present-day chapters, I hit on the idea of beginning each historic chapter with one of these quotes. I'd seen this done in other books--sometimes I had enjoyed reading quotes tacked onto chapters, sometimes I didn't. I now see that the quotes I enjoy are usually vitally linked to the story in some way, whereas the other quotes seem to be added as an afterthought--maybe simply to show off the research of the author.

I can look back now and understand what those quotes had in common. All expressed the horrors of the Civil War in a different way, many without intention. The blood-soaked violets from the battlefield that General McAllister sent home to his wife as a "relic to be prized," the picture and personal letter "out of a dead Yankees knapsack" that a Georgia soldier sent his sister as a "trophie"--these seem repulsive now (or they ought to), but at the time the writers of these words saw nothing wrong with war. They gloried in it, making it more horrible. On the other hand you had men like Lt. Colonel Horace Porter, who wrote,

"It seemed as though Christian men had turned to fiends, and hell itself had usurped the place of earth."

In HANG MY HEAD AND CRY and POISON TO PURGE MELANCHOLY, I continued the practice of starting the historical chapters with quotes. A nice way to center myself, and to tie the books together.

Historical soundbites are very small windows--as if we're looking at the past through a funnel. Still, some can have a larger truth, beyond the context. All good quotations do. The wisdom of the words won't solve all life's problems, but they might make us think. And thinking is never a bad thing.

My favorite quote from my new poster?

"If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other."

--- Mother Teresa

And after that, I shouldn't even need to say

Peace,
Elena

What You Will

"If music be the food of love, play on."
Opening line of
Shakespeare's Twelfth Night

When I was in high school, we were extremely fortunate to have an English Department that sponsored an annual trip to the Shakespeare Festival Theater in Stratford, Connecticut. I feel sorry for people who claim they never got into Shakespeare. Chances are, they never saw one of his plays performed.

Of all the plays I saw on those trips, my favorite was Twelfth Night. Of course, it helped that I had a front row seat and that Sir Toby Belch was played by Fred Gwynne (aka Herman Munster--how cool is that?). Still, Twelfth Night was also one of Shakespeare's most complex and masterful comedies. The title puzzled me, though, seeming to have nothing to do with the play.

I've read since that scholars think the play was either written as an entertainment for a Twelfth Night celebration, or that its ongoing theme--that everything is upside down, everything the opposite of what it appears--is typical of Twelfth Night revelry.

So what is Twelfth Night? Depending on local customs, it's either the eve or the night of January 6th. According to the Christian calendar, this is Epiphany, the day churches tell of the journey of the Three Wise Men who followed a star in the east until they found Jesus. The gospel is the last reading of the year in which Christ is still a small child. January 6, or the Sunday after in some churches, is the liturgical end of the Christmas season.

Until very recently, when stores and advertisers began dictating our holiday calendars, most folks kept their trees and decorations up until Epiphany. I still do. Why would I want to shorten a season that encourages "peace on earth"?

Twelfth Night used to have customs of its own. Nowadays, June is the most popular wedding time, or Valentine's Day. As I stated in POISON TO PURGE MELANCHOLY, in the 18th century, many couples were married on Twelfth Night. And wedding or no, the biggest parties of the year were more likely to be on Twelfth Night than New Year's Eve.

Writings of the period that mention well-heeled Twelfth Night festivities speak of "groaning boards"--that is huge food buffets, usually spread with desserts and a wassail bowl. A "Twelfth Night Cake" or "King Cake" (named for the Magi) would be prepared--a large, ornate, sometimes wreath-shaped confection in which were hidden two tokens. These could be as simple as a bean and a pea, or silver coins, or even a tiny cast or carved figure of Infant Jesus. Slices of the cake were passed around. The woman and man who received the tokens in their slices were crowned king and queen of the festivities. Sometimes these offices came with added responsibilities--the man was expected to host next year's party and the woman was expected to bake the cake for it.

Now, now, the mirth comes
With the cake full of plums,
Where bean is the king of the sport here;
Beside we must know,
The pea also
Must revel as queen in the court here.
poem by Robert Herrick, 17th century

And of course, you'd have entertainment. Mummers plays were popular (especially those with mock sword fights), but so were jugglers, card playing, apple-bobbing, blindman's bluff, fiddlers and dancing.

Seems a shame we've let Twelfth Night revelry be forgotten. Not too late to throw a party this week, is it?

As for Shakespeare's title? Well, this might just be the writer in me, but I think the title he really wanted was probably rejected by his patron, so he slapped on the moniker: TWELFTH NIGHT, OR WHAT YOU WILL. Meaning, you don't like my title? Fine, if you think you know so much, come up with one of your own.

A great while ago the world begun,
With a hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
But that's all one, our play is done,
And we'll strive to please you every day.
Closing song from Twelfth Night

Peace in the New Year,
Elena

GIVE ME RUME TO RIME!

"In comes I, Old Father Christmas.
Welcome? Or welcome not?
I hope Father Christmas will never be forgot!"
I'm from the Philly area, and when somebody mentions mummers around here, we all picture big burly guys wearing pink feathers as they strut down Broad Street on New Year's Day. I mean, doesn't everyone?

Actually seasonal mummery goes back probably to the Dark Ages or earlier. The word mummer at first denoted someone who performed stories in mime while wearing a masked costume. These masquerades were immensely popular during the Renaissance all over Europe, including Harlequin in France and the Italian Comedie. In the British Isles, the art form took a life of its own. These plays were performed at the turning of all seasons, symbolically showing, say, the death and rebirth of the year, or the return of spring, or the reaping of the harvest.

A favorite Yuletide mummer plot was about a king or knight (almost always also a saint) who slays an evil beast, then is himself miraculously brought back to life. The most familiar characters were St. George and the Dragon from England, but in Cornwall, the saint might be King Petroc, and in Ireland, you might find St. Patrick fighting the Wild Worm.

The "mime" was eventually replaced by rhyme, usually in couplet. As poetry goes, this stuff isn't prime, though it tells the story, and once in a while, you'll find some decent wit as well. All mummers plays tend to have similar characters and plots, but as they evolved through the ages, each generation put their own spin on the words, with political and topical references. If the actors are ham enough, they're always entertaining. You can still find mummers plays throughout England, and in many places settled by Englishman, like Newfoundland, New Brunswick, and even in the Carribean, where mummers take to the streets on stilts.

In my novel POISON TO PURGE MELANCHOLY, the mummers are typical of Colonial Virginia, where they may have used grain sacks for masks and substituted King George III for the Dragon. By the 18th century in America, mummers were usually working class or poor who did their best to get a charity handout from richer folk, sometimes even forcing their way into houses at gunpoint (emboldened by drink, of course--see my last blog on wassailing). This practice became so commonplace by 1800 that most American cities, like Philadelphia, passed Masquerade Acts forbidding anyone from walking the streets wearing a mask.

Things were quiet until the 1840s, when a few neighborhood leaders in Philadelphia approached the city council to ask permission to do a little mummery at Christmastime again, just to keep the tradition alive. The city finally compromised--each mummers group had to vow to keep track of their members and be responsible for their actions, and the groups would be allowed to have a parade only, and not go into people's houses. So, Philadelphia got its Mummers Clubs and New Year's Day Parade.

A Philadelphian moved to Atlanta soon after and organized his own neighborhood mummer club, and from there, someone else took the tradition to New Orleans, where it merged with the local culture's Carnivale tradition and became Mardi Gras.

"Our play is done, we must be gone.
We stay no longer here.
God grant you all, both great and small,
A happy, bright New Year."

Peace and Merry Christmas,
Elena

NOTE: I'll be taking a little hiatus from my blog through New Year, but I'll be back for Twelfth Night. Don't take that Christmas tree down too soon!

Floating Islands & Pease Pudding

Being of Italian descent, I can't think of holidays--any holidays--without thinking of food. My protagonist, Pat Montella, has a similar background. In her opening scene in POISON TO PURGE MELANCHOLY, she's stuck in traffic on her way to Williamsburg on Christmas eve, pondering how she'd normally be at one of her aunt's houses eating seven fishes or sausage, with cannolis, pizzelles, and ricotta pie for dessert. Other times in the book she mentions Sicilian advent biscottis and a family reunion with a big pork roast and tomato pie on New Year's Eve.

Pat's experiences were all taken from my experiences. So you can imagine the culture shock to both of us when I plopped her into a Christmas setting where dinner would be in the American colonial style.

In the 18th century, assuming you had the money to afford it and your religion didn’t forbid the extravagance, big dinners were enormously important to the celebration of the Yuletide. The poor ate whatever was usual for them—most likely somewhere between gruel and a pottage (a stew). Middling folk, like Mrs. Carson in the historic part of POISON, may have tried to add a few special items to the menu that time of year: mince pies (made with apples and currants unless you could afford a bit of meat too), pease pudding (peas—the last saved from the harvest --boiled, mashed and whipped with butter), a punch of some sort (probably with hard cider or wine gotten locally or made yourself). Perhaps a pheasant or wild turkey brought back from a hunt if you were lucky. Or like Mrs. Carson, you made a bit of bacon and a few squabs go as far as you could.

But much of what we know of early American meals comes from the diaries and letters of the more wealthy—men like John Adams, who once wrote in great detail about a dinner party he attended while he was a delegate to the Continental Congress in Philadelphia. These lavish parties (at any time of year) were usually 4 courses, and not the courses (soup, salad, etc.) that we think of today. Imagine a long table set with 30, 40, 50 platters of food, arranged in perfect symmetry, each one presented with artistry. No whole turkeys in the center, no sir—the slicing would have been done in the kitchen and all sorts of edible garnishments added. And no one entree. You might have roast beef at one end, baked ham at the other, boiled beef to one side, turkey to the other, oysters, eggs, venison pie, pheasant, plus a variety of fancy vegetables (imagine beets cuts into the shapes of fishes), breads, relishes...well, you get the idea.

And that’s only the 1st course. Then came the “remove”—when guests would follow their host to another room for some sort of entertainment (a short concert or play perhaps). The servants, meantime, would remove the 1st course and reset the table for the 2nd. A different symmetry of platters, but just as many. Perhaps some of the same foods (the ham this time might be cooked with cabbage, the turkey stewed with a rich gravy) or, depending what was available, different offerings—turtle, veal, lamb, shad roe.

Another “remove” and then the first dessert course. Yes, I said the FIRST.

One cake? A couple of pies? Don’t be silly. Like the opening courses, you’d have variety. Desserts using alcohol and whipped cream were popular. Syllabubs were sort of a parfait made with cider or wine. A floating island was rounds of crusty bread, layered with jellies, floating in a bowl of liquored whipped cream. You might also have sweet omelettes (Pat helps to make one—an apple tansy, one of my favorite desserts—a link for the recipe is below), cookies and small cakes, ices (like sherbet), fresh and dried fruit (depending on the season or if you had enough money to import in wintertime), candied flowers and fruits, nuts. And naturally, dessert wines. George Washington, for instance, was very fond of Madeira.

A 3rd “remove” and another dessert course (my kind of dinner!). These parties, alternating dinner and entertainment, usually began in the afternoon and went on for many, many hours.

Even my Italian holiday feasts couldn't top them.

For the Apple Tansy recipe, go to:
http://www.elenasantangelo.com/Recipes3.htm

Buon appetito,
Elena

'Tis the Season

I was a proud cast member of The Philadelphia Revels from 1997 until our local company disbanded a few years ago. Each year in December, Revels groups all over the U.S. present wonderful shows filled with music, dance, poetry, and plays within the play, celebrating the solstice, year-end, and Yuletide traditions of different cultures and historical eras. Our local productions ranged from ancient Celtic to Medieval to Middle Eastern to Victorian, but my favorite was our Christmas in Colonial Philadelphia show. I helped to research and write bits of that script, and what I learned led me to set my 3rd novel, POISON TO PURGE MELANCHOLY, in post-Revolutionary War Williamsburg during the Christmas season.

This month (and up through Twelfth Night) here on my blog, I figured I'd talk about some of the older, lesser-known Yuletide customs. Wouldn't hurt to remind us all that the season existed, and was just as magical, before electric lights and the Chipmunks. And even, to a small extent, before Christianity.

In the historical half of POISON TO PURGE MELANCHOLY, readers will note that most of the Yuletide trappings are secular, revolving around food, drinking, superstitions, and giving money to those below you in station. By the latter, I mean that servants and workers were given coins by their employers and patrons. Working and poorer classes went door-to-door, wassailing and asking for money. Rich folk threw elaborate dinner parties. No one else much bothered with the season.

Before the 19th century, Christmas was a minor religious holiday. Many Christian sects didn't celebrate it at all, partly because the actual day wasn't specified in the Bible, and also, as the Puritans put it, the season promoted drinking and debauchery. (The Puritans, in fact, outlawed Christmas.) Many stores and markets were open on the 25th. At first, only Catholics held services. Protestant churches joined in after many of their congregants began attending the Catholic masses to hear the special music of the day.

One other thing is the difference in the way we define SEASON. Most Americans now think of Thanksgiving through December 25th as the Christmas season, but that's a recent development. Traditionally, the Yuletide season is December 25th through January 6th (Epiphany--the day the Magi visited Christ). Many cultures still celebrate Christmas on Epiphany, which came to be called "Old Christmas." This is also the 12th day of the Christmas season (you know, 12 drummers drumming?) and both its eve and the night of the 6th have been called Twelfth Night. I'll cover Twelfth Night customs in another blog.

Time for an eggnog break.

Peace,
Elena

A Purge For Our (Healthcare) System

As I was writing book 3 of the Possessed series, POISON TO PURGE MELANCHOLY, I found myself dealing with the realities of healthcare in America both personally and as a caregiver to my parents. Writers tend to sneak in elements of whatever is on their minds as a story comes together (not to mention sometimes needing a nice safe way to get revenge), so I inserted one 18th century doctor and an apothecary into the historic plot, plus 5 modern day physicians and a pharmacist in Pat's end of the story. I not only had fun playing with poisonous "physicks" and deadly prescriptions, but I could point out the problems of healthcare as I observed them firsthand.

Now, years after that book was published, medicine in America seems to change for the worse almost daily. If Pat lived in the real world today, as a self-employed person with a pre-existing condition, she'd almost certainly have her insurance canceled. Even if not, on her income, she wouldn't be able to afford it or the non-covered costs which seem to at least double each year. I know because I can barely afford mine. (Your favorite authors may soon become extinct if we're all forced to go back to work full-time to get health benefits.)

One of my reason's for writing POISON TO PURGE MELANCHOLY was to ask the non-musical question, "How far has medicine come since 1783?" Sure, we have more sanitary conditions and anesthesia and antibiotics now, and we have machines that can look at our innards. All great things, I won't deny that. Still, part of me secretly longs for the good old days, when you could go to your health professional the moment you feel lousy, without having to wait 3 weeks for an appointment. Your health professional, of course, would be your apothecary, not a doctor (unless you could afford the extra shilling consultation fee). Then again, if you were really ill, the doctor or apothecary would come to you, bringing nifty non-FDA approved drugs, like quicksilver (yes, lovely poisonous mercury) to calm an upset tummy. Or you could self-medicate with the plants in your garden. Like putting onions on your feet to bring down a fever.

That may sound funny, but frankly, the last few prescriptions I tried didn't work, made me sicker, and cost a minimum of $2 per pill. Onions I can afford. And I love them stir-fried with bell peppers on just about anything. Want garlic with that? Go for it--garlic helps lower blood pressure and cholesterol.

So what did I find in my research? Yes, modern medical technology is more advanced, but without insurance, none but the rich can afford it any more than most early Americans could afford a doctor. Many of this year's new drugs don't work any better than the drugs they're replacing, they just cost more. We understand medicine more now, but as a society, we're less concerned than our 18th century counterparts with wanting to make patients well than with making money.

Depressing? Not to worry. You can purge your melancholy with licorice root, which contains compounds that are MAO inhibitors, just like some anti-depressants.

Or read my book. Ask your doctor if POISON TO PURGE MELANCHOLY is right for you.

Peace,
Elena

DOG Street Ghosts - The Pasteur & Galt Apothecary

I've had a request to talk about my research in Williamsburg, where my 3rd novel, POISON TO PURGE MELANCHOLY, was set. That particular research had so many facets, this could turn into a dissertation, so I'll just tell you about one at a time.

Williamsburg seems the ideal setting for historical fiction. In fact, one of my favorite novels, Barbara Michael's Patriot's Dream is set there. So when Barbara Peters (Poisoned Pen) suggested that I set a Pat Montella mystery in Williamsburg, I thought "Sure, I could do that." 18th century America is my favorite time and place, history-wise, and I'd already been to Williamsburg five times.

My Pat books (a.k.a. The Possessed Mystery Series) all have two plots, one historical, one present day, and they're connected by a central theme and at least one ghost. In BY BLOOD POSSESSED, for instance, the central theme is the effect of war on family. At the time I began planning POISON TO PURGE MELANCHOLY, I was feeling the need to avenge myself upon certain doctors and the healthcare system in general. The theme of the Williamsburg book, I decided, would be medicine, then and now. So the first place I headed when I ventured south to Williamsburg for research was the Pasteur & Galt Apothecary on Duke of Gloucester Street (called DOG Street by William and Mary's students).

The interpreter I found inside was a pleasant woman in trim colonial dress. What warmed me to her was her expression when I started asking questions like "What were mercuric salts prescribed for? What was the normal dose? And are they toxic enough to kill a man?" She smiled as if to say, "You'd better have a really good reason for asking."

I gave my standard spiel about being a mystery writer, etc. and to her credit, she still didn't look as if she believed me, but she took down my address and we exchanged email addresses.

What I didn't know at the time was I'd hooked up with Kris Dippre, one of the foremost experts on medicine in early America. A week after I returned home a large envelope appeared on my doorstep containing chapters from a Domestic Medicine: or The Family Physician, published in Philadelphia in 1774. From this, I was able to bend my brain around contrary 18th century beliefs on the causes of disease, and to give one of my ghosts a distinguishing feature: scoliosis of the spine, from being put into stays at too early an age.

Kris continued to answer my questions via email. Of everyone I contacted at the Colonial Williamsburg Foundation, she helped me most. I sent her a copy of POISON TO PURGE MELANCHOLY as a thank you and, a month later, received a copy of another book which had just seen print -- PHYSICK: The Professional Practice of Medicine in Williamsburg, written by Kris and the staff of the Pasteur & Galt Apothecary, which I recommend to anyone researching the topic. (Wish I'd had it two years earlier.)

Peace,
Elena