Affordable Eating: Meat and three veg in Victorian Christchurch

Unless you’ve been living under a rock, you’ll be aware that Aotearoa New Zealand is facing a cost-of-living crisis. That weekly visit to the supermarket seems to be getting more expensive each time. Throughout history people have sought ways of making their household budget go that little bit further. Turning cheap cuts of meat and inexpensive vegetables into a delicious meal for the family has been the subject of books and newspaper articles for generations, including in the 19th century. This blog will look at what kinds of evidence we have for the types of cuts of meat people were using and how this reflects social status. We’ll then have a look at the kinds of dishes that Christchurch’s residents might have served up during the 19th century and the differences in the kind of dishes working-class and upper-class households might have enjoyed. Finally, we’ll undertake a bit of experimental archaeology and try cooking one of the more economical 19th century recipes, and get feedback on what my family, and UOA team thought of it.

First published in 1861, Mrs Beeton’s Book of Household Management was written by Mrs. Isabella Beeton, who lived in London during the height of the Victorian period. The book is a compendium of recipes, cleaning tips, and advice on children-rearing, finances, and the how to manage the day-to-day running of a good household. The book had sold nearly two million copies by 1868, making it a common guide for households across the British Empire, including here in New Zealand. The recipes within the book are typical of Victorian trendy cooking, with dishes such as Lobster Curry, Mock Turtle Soup (sans turtle and instead using a calf’s head), an assortment of preserves, puddings and cakes, and many French recipes (such as Boeuf a la Mode or Claves head à la Maître d’hôtel). The recipes are usually easy to follow and generally include the cost, presumably based on the prices in London at the time of publication.

The title page to Beeton’s Book of Household Management, 1861 Wikicommons.

What is clear from reading a book such as Beeton’s, is that those in the Victorian period ate a lot of meat-based protein. To cater for this need, butchers were there to provide. Because of a lack of refrigeration, most people went to the butcher daily or every few days (although Mrs Beeton has advice on ‘restoring’ meat that was getting a bit old and dodgy). Butchers themselves also didn’t have refrigeration, so would rely on a quick turnover of goods to ensure everything was nice and fresh. Nineteenth century butcher shops would often hang their stock off the shop front or verandah. This utilised the natural cooling effect of the breeze and helped promote their stock to potential customers. Catering to all sorts of budgets, butchers would sell almost every part of the animal; a truly nose to tail experience that has gained a revival in recent years. Just as it is today, the best cuts were expensive, while others, such as offal and those that required a bit more preparation, were more affordable.

The delivery carts wait to be loaded outside G. Bull’s butcher’s shop in Cashel Street, Christchurch, in the 1870s.Christchurch City Libraries.

Faunal remains are a component of the archaeological assemblage that comprise bones, shells and other surviving elements of animals. In New Zealand historical archaeological sites, faunal remains include beef, sheep and pig bones, shellfish (such as oyster, cockle, pipi, and mussel), bird bone (such as chicken, goose, turkey and duck), as well as other species, such as rabbit and deer. The kinds of species present and the types of bone can shed light on the types and cuts of meat being consumed by a site’s occupants. Just as they are today, certain cuts of meat were more expensive than others and the amount of disposable income people had would often determine what cuts of meat they were eating on a regular basis. This isn’t to say that the working-class of 19th century Christchurch were not eating nice cuts of meat, but rather that these expensive cuts were probably consumed less often in favour of more affordable cuts.

Butchery has changed since the 19th century, and this means that the way in which meat is butchered has changed. The cuts we see at the butcher now is not necessarily the same as those going to the butcher in the 19th century would have seen. As such, we need to be careful comparing the remains we find in archaeological sites to the kinds of cuts we can buy from a butcher now. Thankfully, historical archaeologists have undertaken studies to compare and account for these differences using archaeological assemblages, and historic documents like that from Mrs Beeton and others, to identify the kinds of cuts that existed in the 19th century. Researchers in Australia used this research to categorise the types of bones found in archaeological assemblages and related them to the cultural quality, or ‘class’, for the cut of meat (in this case beef). They also gave an example of the kinds of recipes given by cookbook authors of the period. Cuts like sirloin and rump were considered ‘First Class’ cuts; middle-rib, and flank – Second Class; chuck and brisket – Third Class; while sticking-pieces (from the lower part of the neck), shin, head (e.g. cheek and tongue), hocks, trotters, and marrow bones fall into the lowest classes, from Fourth to Sixth.

Table 1. Individual cattle skeletal elements recorded for Quadrant interpreted as beef cuts of various quality (after Table 3 in Colley 2006: 50-51).

Skeletal Element Gross Body Part Butchery Section
(Steele 1999a)
Beef Cut(s) Beef Quality Beef Recipes
Horn core Horn core Head Non-food Various Not applicable
Vertebra Spine Trunk Unknown Various Various
Rib Rib cage Trunk Various Various Various
Pelvis Pelvis Hindquarter Aitch-bone and/or rump Various Various
Acetabulum Pelvis Hindquarter Aitch-bone and/or rump Various Various
Long bone fragment Limb Unknown Unknown Various Various
Unidentifiable Unknown Unknown Unknown Various Various
Articular cartilage Unknown Unknown Unknown Various Various
Lumbar vertebra Spine Trunk Sirloin First Class Roasted baron of beef; roast fillet of beef (larded)
Sacrum Spine Trunk Rump First Class Beef-steak and kidney pudding; fried rump steak
Ilium Pelvis Hindquarter Rump First Class Beef-steak and kidney pudding; fried rump steak
Patella Lower Hindlimb Hindquarter Thick-flank Second Class Beef a la Mode
Thoracic vertebra Spine Trunk Fore–rib and/or middle-rib First and/or Second Class Various
Sternum Rib cage Trunk Brisket Third Class Boiled or stewed beef; excellent
salted, boiled & eaten cold
Scapula Upper forelimb Forequarter Chuck-ribs Third Class Roast beef with bone or rolled
Ischium Pelvis Hindquarter Aitch-bone Third Class Beef stew; salted beef; poorer quality
roast beef
Pubis Pelvis Hindquarter Aitch-bone Third Class Beef stew; salted beef; poorer quality
roast beef
Costal cartilage Rib cage Trunk Thin flank and/or thick flank Second and/or Third Class Various
Femur Upper hindlimb Hindquarter Aitch-bone and/or buttocks Second and/or Third Class Various
Atlas Spine Trunk Sticking piece Fourth Class Beef soup or a cheap beef stew
Axis Spine Trunk STicking piece Fourth Class Beef soup or a cheap beef stew
Cervical vertebra Spine Trunk Sticking piece Fourth Class Beef soup or a cheap beef stew
Humerus Upper forelimb Forequarter Clod Fourth Class Beef soup or a cheap beef stew
Radius Lower forelimb Forequarter Shin Fifth Class Excellent beef stock or soup; top of
shin beef stew
Ulna Lower forelimb Forequarter Shin Fifth Class Excellent beef stock or soup; top of
shin beef stew
Radius and Ulna Lower forelimb Forequarter Shin Fifth Class Excellent beef stock or soup; top of
shin beef stew
Tibia Lower hindlimb Hindquarter Hock (shin, leg) Fifth Class Excellent beef stock or soup; top of
shin beef stew
Fibula Lower hindlimb Hindquarter Hock (shin, leg) Fifth Class Excellent beef stock or soup; top of
shin beef stew
Astragalus Lower hindlimb Extremity Hock (shin, leg) Fifth Class Excellent beef stock or soup; top of
shin beef stew
Calcaneis Lower hindlimb Extremity Hock (shin, leg) Fifth Class Excellent beef stock or soup; top of
shin beef stew
Centroquartal Lower hindlimb Extremity Hock (shin, leg) Fifth Class Excellent beef stock or soup; top of
shin beef stew
Skull fragment Cranium Head Cheek and/or tongue Sixth Class Beef stews and soups
Maxilla Cranium Head Cheek and/or tongue Sixth Class Beef stews and soups
Hyoid Cranium Head Cheek and/or tongue Sixth Class Beef stews and soups
Mandible Jaw Head Cheek and/or tongue Sixth Class Beef stews and soups
Tooth Teeth Head Cheek and/or tongue Sixth Class Beef stews and soups
Incisor Teeth Head Cheek and/or tongue Sixth Class Beef stews and soups
Canine Teeth Head Cheek and/or tongue Sixth Class Beef stews and soups
Premolar Teeth Head Cheek and/or tongue Sixth Class Beef stews and soups
Molar Teeth Head Cheek and/or tongue Sixth Class Beef stews and soups
Deciduous tooth Teeth Head Cheek and/or tongue Sixth Class Beef stews and soups
Caudal vertebra Spine Trunk Ox-tail Sixth Class Stewed ox-tails; cow heel jelly; beef
stock for stew
Carpal Lower forelimb Extremity Cow heel (trotters) Sixth Class Fried ox-feet or cow-heel
Metacarpus Lower forelimb Extremity Marrow bones Sixth Class Boiled marrow bones
Tarsal Lower hindlimb Extremity Cow heel (trotters) Sixth Class Fried ox-feet or cow-heel
Metatarsus Lower hindlimb Extremity Marrow bones Sixth Class Boiled marrow bones
Sesamoid Foot Extremity Cow heel (trotters) Sixth Class Fried ox-feet or cow-heel
First phalanx Foot Extremity Cow heel (trotters) Sixth Class Fried ox-feet or cow-heel
Second phalanx Foot Extremity Cow heel (trotters) Sixth Class Fried ox-feet or cow-heel
Third phalanx Foot Extremity Cow heel (trotters) Sixth Class Fried ox-feet or cow-heel
Metapodial Lower hindlimb Extremity Marrow bones Sixth Class Boiled marrow bones
Phalanx Foot Extremity Cow heel (trotters) Sixth Class Fried ox-feet or cow-heel
Carpal or tarsal Foot Extremity Cow heel (trotters) Sixth Class Fried ox-feet or cow-heel

 

Underground Overground Archaeology has recently completed a project within the four avenues than spanned across parts of seven former town sections. During the project, numerous rubbish pits were identified and these yielded a range of faunal remains. These remains showed the people who occupied these sections were consuming a wide variety of animal protein sources including: beef, lamb and mutton, pork, rabbit, chicken, fish, and shellfish including oyster and cockle. Most of the cuts of beef tended to be from cheaper cuts, such as brisket, chuck, flank, foreshank (shin), and neck. But we also had a few examples of bones related to rump cuts, suggesting the occasional splash out on good quality meat. Shellfish and rabbit were common within the assemblages, and were affordable protein sources at the time. Lamb and mutton was also well represented and based on the published prices during the 19th century, was also an affordable option for families on a budget. All in all, the assemblage that we uncovered suggests that the occupants across these town sections were working-class, and the faunal assemblage suggested that they were frugal and purchased cheaper and more cost-effective cuts of meat.

But fear-not dear reader, Mrs Beeton gives recipes for all sorts of types and cuts of meat, including fancy cuts like rump, as well as ways to turn ‘economical’ cuts into something that everyone will enjoy. Let’s dive in and have a look at some of the recipes she has for us. Bones from the rump meat cut were found on our site, but as mentioned previously, these were identified in limited numbers, suggesting that rump, a ‘First Class’ cut, was only consumed occasionally. However, bones relating to beef shin, a ‘Fifth Class’ cut, were some of the most common faunal remains we found. This suggests that beef shin was a regular on the menu of the working-class families. So, what kinds of dishes were these cuts turned into? Let’s have a look at two recipes from Mrs Beeton: Rump steak and Stewed shin of beef.

Rump steak in Mrs Beeton’s Book of Household Management. Internet Archive.org

Stewed shin of beef in Mrs Beeton’s Book of Household Management  Internet Archive.org

For these recipes, Mrs. Beeton gives a cost of around 2s per pound for the rump steak and 4d or four pence per pound for the beef shin recipe. For reference, the beef shin recipe calls for a whole shin, which equates to about 4kg (or around 8.8 lbs) bone-in weight, giving a cost of around 2s 11d for a meal for seven to eight people, which equates to around 4 ⅓d per serve. Meanwhile the rump steak serves half the number of people at a cost of around 6d to 9d per serve, and that doesn’t include any side dishes.

Prices of meat in Christchurch (Lyttelton Times 19 September 1860)

The price of beef in 1860 Christchurch appears to be fairly similar to the London prices suggested by Beeton, with the cheaper cuts of beef probably being 4-5d per pound, however this fails to take into account the price of the vegetables, sauces, etc. In 1861 the median real wage for unskilled labour was estimated to be £1 4s 7d a week, or £64 6s 7d per annum (Brooke 2011). This meant that Beeton’s beef shin recipe for eight people equated to around 12% of the real wage, while the fancy rump steak for eight people equated to up to 22% of the real wage! That’s quite the difference!

Always interested in history, and even more so in saving a few dollars feeding my family, I decided to give the beef shin stew recipe a go. Most of the ingredients were fairly simple to find. I was even able to find the mushroom ketchup in the supermarket. Mushroom ketchup is the OG ketchup in Victorian times and Isabella Beeton says “is one of the most useful store sauces to the experienced cook” (Beeton 1861: 227; link to her recipe for mushroom ketchup here). For the savoury herbs, I used what I had in my garden: rosemary, thyme, sage, parsley and bay leaves. I couldn’t find turnips, but substituted with a half a swede (which, after all, is actually just a Swedish turnip). Next was the beef, which I got from my local supermarket. After following the recipe, I was left with an appropriately beige-brown stew of shin beef, which smelled pretty good.

For a half portion of the recipe, it came in at a cost of around $44. Based on the recipe, this was meant to serve four people, but in truth it was more like five to six serves. So, how does the cost compare to today? If we still assume that the half portion results in four very large serves, then it would mean that the full recipe would have cost around $88. The current take-home median weekly income in Aotearoa New Zealand is around $948.34. This means that a modern recreation of Beeton’s beef shin recipe for eight people equates to around 9.3% of the real wage. Mrs. Beeton’s economic cooking still seems to be on the money (pun intended). Oh, and as for the cost of rump steak; is it still 22% of the take home wage to feed 8? Apparently not, and now steak for a family of eight will set you back around $65, or just 6.9% of the weekly wage. Mind you, this is just for the steak and doesn’t account for any side dishes. So, while it seems there is certainly a cost-of-living crisis happening at the moment, and things seem to be getting more and more expensive, spare a thought for those living in the mid-nineteenth century.

An appropriately brown-beige dish of stewed shin of beef. Image: N. Bruer.

But how does a 142-year-old recipe taste? To find out, I served it to my wife and 14-month-old son. The verdict? The vegetables are a bit soft, and the gravy was definitely flavoured heavily by the turnip, but the mushroom ketchup made for a really tangy, salty, umami gravy, and the beef was meltingly tender. The little one also found his delicious, with most ending up in his mouth and only minimal amounts ending up in his hair.

This tasty recipe was small human approved. Image: N. Bruer. 

With lots of leftovers, I next served it up to a panel of perpetually hungry archaeologists and asked for their thoughts. Here was some of their feedback:

“Delicious, soft meat and vege, with some delicious meat water to accompany it.”

“I thought it tasted fine and was nice and tender but could have used a bit more seasoning.”

“Just tangy enough, but try adding more mushroom sauce! It won’t necessarily be beneficial, but I did accidentally pour in about four tablespoons worth, so that probably influenced the flavour profile. And I loved it!”

“Nah, it was alright. It is a pretty classic European cuisine that seems like it is trying to double down on the savoury flavours. I think I’m glad for the greater variety spices and seasonings that we have now because the recipe did seem a bit limited; you’d throw in way more other stuff were you making the same thing now”

So, the beige colour was matched by a somewhat similar beige flavour. But there you have it, a bit of experimental archaeology: looking at faunal remains from a Christchurch site, selecting an economical recipe from the 1860s, and giving it the taste test.

Nigel Bruer

References

Colley, S. A Preliminary Beef Meat Cuts Typology for Nineteenth-Century Sydney and Some Methodological Issues. Australasian Historical Archaeology 24: 47-54.

 

 

 

 

Chew with your mouth closed, my dear

The dinner party; a minefield of social etiquette and proper behaviour for both the host and the guests. For the host – the pressure of who to invite, where to sit them, what to serve them? Having the right invitation cards, the right food, the right dishes. For the guests – the importance of appearance, polite conversation, correct eating habits. All in all, a maze of social convention with the potential for disaster lying around every corner.

As archaeologists we don’t get to see the social etiquette and behaviour associated with dining directly. Whilst we might uncover the remnants of a first course meal, with the likes of a soup plate and a dessert spoon, we don’t know if the soup was drunk from the side of the spoon (not the tip!) without any audible noise or slurping, as was the polite way to do so. Instead, we have to make inferences based on the assemblage we have from the archaeological record and what we know from the social history to determine the social behaviour of the people we are studying.

Today on the blog we are going to explore Victorian dining customs and some of the etiquette surrounding them, along with how this relates to what we find in the archaeological record. Before we do that, it is worthwhile defining what meal we actually mean by ‘dinner’. Dinner is the main meal of the day. In medieval times, dinner took place at midday, with a basic breakfast served in the morning, and a light supper in the evening just before bed. The urbanisation and industrialisation which took place in England during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries led to the wealthy and social elite having dinner at a later hour, as late as 9pm by the 1840s. The pushing back of dinner time led to the establishment of a ladies’ luncheon at midday, and afternoon tea between 4pm and 5pm. For working-class people dinner remained at midday, if they were able to leave work for it, or changed to the evening if they lived away from work. In nineteenth century New Zealand dinner was normally served at midday, with evening dinner developing in urban areas in the early twentieth century.

What was served for dinner and how it was served depended on a person’s wealth and status. At the elite end of the scale was the dinner party, where guests were invited for a dinner consisting of five or more courses. An 1879 article in the Southland times describes what should be served for each course. The first course was a soup course, with a vegetable and a white soup normally offered (although one should avoid the white soup with its high levels of cream unless they had ‘exceptionally powerful digestion’). This was followed by a fish course, with at least two fish served. Entrees came next along with mains, which should include roast meat and accompaniments. Dessert finished the meal before the women retired to the parlour for tea and the men discussed business.

An example meal from Alexander Filippini’s 1889 book, ‘The Table: how to buy food, how to cook it and how to serve it’. Filippini included a meal plan for every day of the year. The calf’s head was cooked in pieces and not whole, something I’m sure guests were thankful for.

From the mid-nineteenth century dinner began to be served à la Russe, where courses were served separately and in succession of each other. Prior to this, dishes from all the courses were served on the table at once in service à la Française. In service à la Russe, the only dishes on the table were plates and drinks glasses. Dishes were offered to the guests by servants on large platters, and the guests served themselves. The plates were then cleared away and replaced for the next course which was served in a similar fashion.

Dinner service had a strict etiquette in the way food was served and cleared. The maid of this dinner party, whilst bring practical in requesting the guests keep their forks, broke custom as is noted by the columnist (Free Lance 3/03/1906: pg 12).

The wealthier a household was, the more elaborate their meals were. For the middle class three courses was likely standard, with a maid to help serve the meal if possible. Meals with more courses would have been reserved for dinner parties, which would have been an opportunity for the hosts to show off. For the working classes three course meals were possible, but there would not have been a servant to help serve them.

The number of courses needing to be served, along with the manner of service, dictated the table ware set a household required. An important component of a successful dinner party was the service the dinner was served on. All of the dishes should be matching, and each item of food should be served on the appropriate dish. The rise of the middle-class led to a growth in demand for ceramic table sets, with the Staffordshire potteries responding with a variety of new vessel forms intended for wealthy customers including asparagus plates, herring dishes, chestnut baskets, and fish trowels (Barker 2010: 15).

Serving dishes decorated in the ever-popular Asiatic Pheasants pattern. Top row: platter and plate. Bottom row: pedestalled serving dish and tureen lid. Image: C. Watson.

You can never go wrong with Willow! Top row: plate, castor, ladle. Bottom row: square lid for a serving dish, large platter. Image: C. Watson.

As archaeologists we can use the ceramic assemblage recovered from a household to infer that household’s status and dining habits. When we get an assemblage with elaborate vessel forms in matching patterns and multiple vessels we can infer that the household was wealthy and likely hosting elaborate dinner parties. By the same vein, when we get an assemblage with plain ceramics and simple forms it is likely the household was poorer, and not spending their money on keeping up-to-date with the latest ceramic fashions to impress fancy dinner guests. Of course, it is never as simple as that. As the story of the Wellington dinner party shows, people made do with what they had, and whilst the hostess of the party might not have had enough forks for a multi-course dinner party, she hosted one anyway!

Inspired by this blog to host your own dinner party? Here are our favourite tips (more here) on dinner party etiquette to avoid complete and utter social embarrassment!

-never encourage a dog or cat to play with you at the table.
-never hesitate to take the last piece of bread or the last cake; there are probably more.
-never allow butter, soup or other food to remain on your whiskers. Use the napkin frequently.
-never wear gloves at the table, unless the hands for some special reason are unfit to be seen.
-never eat so much of one article so as to attract attention, as some people do who eat large quantities of butter, sweet cake, cheese or other articles.
-never allow the conversation at the table to drift into anything but chit-chat; the consideration of deep and abstruse principles will impair digestion.

Clara Watson

 

References

Barker, D. 2010. Producing for the Table: A View From the Staffordshire Potteries. In Symonds, J. (Ed). Table Settings: The Material Culture and Social Context of Dining AD 1700-1900. Oxbow Books, Oxford.

Free Lance [online]. Available at www.paperspast.natlib.govt.nz.

Piles, bones and marbles: what was under the Godleys’ house?

Way back in the winter of 2012, at the height of the post-earthquake demolition, I was pretty excited to learn we were going to get the chance to investigate the site of John and Charlotte Godley’s house in Lyttelton. John was a prominent figure in the Canterbury Association, the young settlement’s Chief Agent and is often regarded as one of Canterbury’s founding fathers. Charlotte was his wife and the author of a fantastic volume of letters that record so much detail about life in the new settlement and – importantly for this tale – the house they lived in. And then there was Arthur Godley, their son, born in 1847.

John Robert Godley. Image: Wikipedia.

The house was built for the Godleys in late 1849/early 1850, by the advance party of Canterbury Association surveyors sent to carry out some of the ground work to establish the colony. The house was ready for occupation when the Godleys arrived in Lyttelton in April 1850, although the Godleys only stayed a few days before travelling to Wellington to await the arrival of the first Canterbury Association ships. John Robert Godley later recorded that “after seeing it, we could not help laughing at our own anticipation of a shed on a bare beach with a fire at the door”, while Charlotte thought the house to be “…the best looking house we have yet seen in New Zealand”, and she particularly admired the “… kind of pantry” (Amodeo 2003: 117).

Charlotte Godley, 1877. Image: Wikipedia.

The house might have looked good, but the practicalities of living in it were trying, as Charlotte was to discover when the family returned to the house in December 1850: both dust and rain came in through the walls, depending on the weather. Charlotte records one sleepless night when the wind howled all night and the house creaked like a ship. She rose in the morning to find the inside of the house covered in dust, including all the furniture and all her dresses. The rain that seeped in through the poorly lined walls caused the drawing room wallpaper to come unstuck (Godley 1951: 170, 191). This anecdote’s a great one, because it tells us that (a) the house had wallpaper – in early 1850s Lyttelton! – and (b) that it had a drawing room. Historical records tell us that the house had six rooms (although it’s worth noting that Victorian room counts often didn’t include halls, pantries and/or similar service rooms), but don’t list what these were.

Lyttelton, with Immigrants’ Barracks and settlers’ houses, 1852? Frederick Aloysius Weld, 1823-1891. Alexander Turnbull Library, Reference number: B-139-004. The Godleys’ house is the building with three gables in the middle of the picture.

In spite of the “kind of pantry”, meat did not last well in the house, lasting on average two days before going off (Godley 1951: 155). This wasn’t really anything to do with this particular house, it was more about life in the 19th century… but it is relevant to this story. For John and Charlotte’s position in Canterbury meant that they entertained very regularly, hosting tea parties nearly every evening in December 1850 (Godley 1951: 153, 155, 161). And then there were the guests who stayed the night – or several nights, leading Charlotte to refer to John’s dressing room (yes, a dressing room! More on that in a moment), as “the spare room of Lyttelton” (Godley 1951: 172).

So, the dressing room, which seems fairly extraordinary to me in Lyttelton in the early 1850s. But John was an important man in the colony, and perhaps his status was such that a dressing room may have been required. I also wonder if the dressing room functioned as a study/office for John. When he got the chance to use it. Early in 1851, there was a plan to turn it into a dining room (Godley 1951: 153) – indicating both that the house didn’t already have one (perhaps guests ate in the kitchen or the drawing room?) and that the dressing room was of a decent size. Whether or not it ever became a dining room isn’t clear – there may not have been the opportunity, given how frequently it was used as a bedroom.

The dressing room wasn’t the only room to have been used as a bedroom – in August 1851 the bathroom was converted into a bedroom for a visiting Canterbury Association official (Godley 1951: 226). Perhaps John had finally put his foot down about the use of dressing room as a bedroom? The presence of a bathroom is also intriguing. Clearly the house didn’t have any running water, although a well was dug specially for it (Amodeo 2003: 116). The bathroom may have contained a bath or even a commode.

In terms of the other rooms in the house, Charlotte records the presence of a kitchen in the house, although the initial one must have been somewhat unsatisfactory, as Charlotte referred to a new kitchen in March 1851, complete with stove and “refractory chimney” (Godley 1951: 184). We know, too, that Charlotte and John had a bedroom in the house, as did young Arthur – the three seemed to alternate between sleeping up and downstairs. We know the Godleys had servants, and it’s possible that a servant may have lived in too. But perhaps the most interesting use of a room in the house was as the Lyttelton library, which started operation here in June 1851 (Burgess 2009: Appendix 4).

When it came time to do the archaeological work on the site, I really wasn’t sure what we’d find. Or, indeed, if we’d find anything related to the c.1850 building. But we did! Lots and lots of piles, and some pile holes: brick piles, timber piles and stone piles, specifically. The house sat on timber piles (identified as mātai and kōwhai) and its verandahs – on the north and west elevations – sat on stone piles. This is interesting, because it wasn’t long before houses in Christchurch and Lyttelton were supported by stone piles, stone being a much more readily available material than timber. The other intriguing feature found under the house was a mysterious brick pit…

Underneath the Godleys’ house. Image: G. Gedson.

We’ve no idea what this was used for, or even how old it was – it certainly predated the 1943 building constructed where the Godleys’ house had stood, but this feature was able to remain in situ and so we didn’t get to look at the bricks it was made from. One of the notable things about this feature was that it contained lots of animal bones, almost all of which was bird bone and all of which is likely to have been food waste. The bones were from at least two domestic ducks and at least one brown teal duck. The brown teal duck must pre-date the 1900s, as it gradually disappeared from the South Island prior to this date (Williams and Dumbell 1996). So, perhaps food from the Godleys’ table? There’s no way of knowing.

The mysterious brick pit, found at the rear of the house. Image: G. Gedson.

Amongst the other intriguing artefacts from under the house were several marbles, which were found scattered on the ground surface, and in some of the pile holes. Marbles aren’t uncommon on archaeological sites (see here for more information), but finding eight is. Half of these were lying on the surface under the 1943 building and the other half were in the piles holes. Realistically, given the nature of marbles – small round things designed to roll – these could have been deposited at any time from the house’s construction until the site was built on again following its demolition. So, sadly, we can’t say that young Arthur Godley was playing with these marbles, but nor can we entirely discount the possibility (although some of the types found date to the later part of the 19th century, so he definitely wasn’t playing with those ones).

Marbles! Image: J. Garland & L. Dawson.

We found a range of other artefacts at the site, too, most of which was the normal detritus of mid-late 19th century European life in Canterbury. Nothing, regrettably, that could be associated directly with the Godleys. But we only looked at part of the site, and it is possible that more remains outside the footprint of the area we excavated. And possibly the best outcome of this project is that the piles – and the mystery brick feature – have been preserved in situ for the future. And for me, the site provided a great opportunity to explore the lives of John and Charlotte Godley, leading me to Charlotte’s wonderful letters and to a wealth of information about life in Lyttelton at the beginning of the European settlement.

Katharine Watson & Kirsa Webb

References

Amodeo, C., 2003. Forgotten Forty-Niners: being an account of the men & women who paved the way in 1849 for the Canterbury Pilgrims in 1850. The Caxton Press, Christchurch.

Burgess, R., 2009. Lyttelton Township Historic Area. Registration report for a historic area (Volume 2). Unpublished report for the New Zealand Historic Places Pouhere Taonga.

Godley, C., 1951. Letters from Early New Zealand. Whitcombe & Tombs Ltd, Christchurch.

Williams, M. and Dumbell, G. 1996. Brown teal (pateke) Anas chlorotis recovery plan. Threatened Species Recovery Plan No 19. Department of Conservation, Wellington.

The Cater-Ring

Following on from last week’s blog post, when we discovered a tea set used by a local 19th century caterer – this time we will take a closer look at what catering may have been like for the Victorians.

Prior to this find, catering was one of those 19th century occupations that I’d taken for granted, or never given any thought to. It certainly surprised me to find such specific evidence of this industry, especially to glimpse a particular individual’s business. But hey, these are the things that keep our jobs interesting! Our bread and butter if you will…

When I first began to think about what this industry may have been like for L. J. Smith and his counterparts, I had visions of a primary school cook-off – in which everyone brings a pot-luck plate (made by their mum) to the local school gala day. But upon further research, I found that the industry was more established than this. Caterers were commonly used at many events, including children’s birthday parties, afternoon teas, garden parties, balls and dances, banquets, the races and A & P shows, to name a few.

Despite the number of events these guys must have attended, I only found one really sensational tale regarding the life of a New Zealand caterer, in which a well-known Wanganui professional slipped in the kitchen and slashed his wrist on broken glass, requiring emergency surgery (Marlborough Express 01/09/1900: 3). This is in sharp comparison to the bigger and more dramatic experiences of caterers back in Europe. London’s Evening Post regales us with tales about dodgy caterers being fined for serving cheap meats they claimed were delicacies, a mass poisoning at a medical congress banquet, in which 250 doctors became ill, and the caterer claimed he was framed by someone in a conspiracy to ruin his reputation (Evening Post 10/11/1894: 1, 03/08/1935: 28). Caterers were even being honoured at Windsor Castle for their edible menus (made of sugar tissue paper and cake frosting; Evening Post, 21/11/1906: 15).

All of this was entertaining to read, but what was it like to be a caterer in New Zealand during the 19th century? Like other occupations we have looked at on the blog, early caterers on our shores often had multi-faceted careers – chefs and restaurateurs, confectioners and bakers often moonlighted as caterers when opportunities arose, and successful proprietors were known to open up their own tearooms as a side enterprise.  Some of the professionals who appeared many times in newspapers had seemingly successful careers: one is described as “famous” in his obituary, and L. J. Smith himself is described as well respected (Auckland Star 23/06/1917: 5). A caterer’s name was also often announced in newspapers prior to an event, seemingly as a draw card to advertise the occasion, and they were subsequently thanked, sometimes with a description of the fare provided. So people were certainly interested in their work – I’m thinking the 19th century equivalent of posting a picture of your meal on Facebook?

But what kind of crust did these guys earn? I didn’t find any catering costings during my research, although I did find several bankruptcy notices, and occasions when community groups helped to sell off goods purchased for cancelled events, so the caterer wouldn’t make a loss (Taranaki Herald 11/02/1897: 2). We also know that they formed a union to raise the price of tariffs, which may have helped their profits (Grey River Argus 09/11/1907: 3). There was also always the occupational hazard of theft to consider – the poor guy in this story seems to have lost some equipment…

Auckland Star 05/08/1943:6

Auckland Star 05/08/1943:6

The equipment that some caterers served their fare on was alluded to last week in reference to the blue and white patterned tea set complete with the company logo. The quality and range of serving ware and equipment offered by a caterer, was no doubt related to the formality of the affair and the money spent by the patrons. One New York caterer made place markers for each of his guests in the form of recognisable caricature statuettes of them (Grey River Argus 13/07/1886: 4) – seems a bit over-the-top? More commonly, advertisements mentioned that marquees were available for hire, as well as boilers, tables, crockery, glassware, cutlery, etc. (Press 15/06/1907: 8). One proprietor even stated that her hands would never have touched the flour that made her bread, as she owned the most “up-to-date machinery” (Waikato Independent 18/05/1902: 1).

The formality and size of a catered affair would also determine if extra serving staff were required for an event. The photograph below shows the catering crew of the South Island section of the 9th contingent in which 480 people were said to have been served in four minutes!

Otago Witness 26/02/1902: 39

Otago Witness 26/02/1902: 39

If you thought that was impressive, this fun nod to old-timely sexism draws our attention to the preference of male wait staff over female waitresses for formal affairs. The author explains that women are less professional than men, and any guest conversation that a waitress might overhear will be subsequently turned into community gossip. Go figure.

Auckland Star 10/12/1926:7

Auckland Star 10/12/1926:7

Probably the most entertaining part of researching catering was determining what they may have served. Check out the ‘Bill of Fare’ for the Telegraph Dinner of 1862. Seven courses? And most of it French! Bon appétit!

Lyttelton Times 12/07/1862:5

Lyttelton Times 12/07/1862:5

I suspect not all menus were so elaborate. More humble fare may not have been as far away from what we might find at our modern equivalent of community events – like mini savouries, saveloys and fairy bread. In fact, many advertisements offered scotch pies and ‘fancy bread’, and strawberries and cream were always a special treat (Woodville Examiner 28/04/1911: 4). As many caterers also marketed themselves as confectioners, lollies (typically boiled, sometimes mixed with nuts) were on hand – and depending on the affair, a lolly scramble may have been warranted.

Lolly scramble at a 1880s child's birthday party. Image: W. Crawford. Lolly scrambles were common at community picnics and children’s birthday parties (Swarbrick 2016).

Lolly scramble at an 1880s child’s birthday party. Image: W. Crawford. Tairāwhiti Museum, Te Whare Taonga O Te Tairāwhiti. Lolly scrambles were common at community picnics and children’s birthday parties (Swarbrick 2016).

One of the most commonly catered community events during the 19th century were picnics. Organisations such as firms, churches, unions, clubs and Sunday schools held annual or even more frequent picnics. The picnic would have been a more exotic affair, and required a different menu than a sit down full course meal. Such foodstuffs would need to be served cold and stored in picnic baskets, napkins and tin containers. Common items were sandwiches, cold cuts, cakes, biscuits, cheeses, jellies and pickled fruit. Beverages commonly included ginger beer or ale, lemonade and, of course, tea! (Mitchell 1995: 16). These events (for which the caterers were often paid for by fundraising) frequently required large amounts of food. A combined Thames Sunday schools’ picnic with over 1000 children in attendance required 120 lbs of cake, 1000 dozen buns, 100 lbs of bread, 25 lbs of lollies, 50 lbs of ham, 6 lbs of tea, 25 lbs of sugar, 10 lbs of butter, 6 gallons of milk and peaches (Mitchell 1995: 27).

Essentially, whatever was on the event menu would have included a great deal of MEAT. The European settlers attempted to recreate many of their traditional foods in New Zealand, such as the standard “meat and three vege” combination, which still has its place in many New Zealand homes today (Burton 2016). The main cuisine difference between the homeland and the new frontier was that the quantity of meat consumed by the pioneers significantly increased. The availability and comparative inexpensiveness of meat in New Zealand meant that meat could be eaten for three meals a day, and fish was much less common, due to its British associations with the working class (Burton 2016). Mr Cooper, editor of The Scotsman newspaper visited New Zealand in 1897, and stated that “the fault with [New Zealand hotels] is that they offer you too much meat” and “It was my firm belief that New Zealanders eat more meat and drink more tea than any other people in the world” (Nelson Evening Mail 10/06/1897: 4). There was a small 19th century vegetarian population of New Zealand, some of which were likely to have been part of the Canterbury Dietetic Reform Association (founded in 1882), which promoted the health benefits of a vegetarian diet (Burton 2016). However, these people probably wouldn’t have been too popular at a party, nor would a caterer have been if he left meat off the menu. As Homer Simpson once said: “You don’t make friends with salad!”

Colonial Goose. A great example of the adaption of traditional British cuisine to the New Zealand colony. (Spoiler – it doesn’t: contain any traces of goose!) Goose was hard to come by in New Zealand, so lamb or mutton was used in its place. Image Insureandgo.

Colonial Goose. A great example of the adaption of traditional British cuisine to the New Zealand colony. (Spoiler – it doesn’t: contain any traces of goose!) Goose was hard to come by in New Zealand, so lamb or mutton was used in its place. Image Insureandgo.

Chelsea Dickson

 References

Auckland Star [online] Available at www.paperspast.natlib.govt.nz.

Burton, D. ‘Food – Meat’, Te Ara – the Encyclopedia of New Zealand, http://www.TeAra.govt.nz/en/food/page-1 (Accessed 16 September 2016).

Grey River Argus [online] Available at www.paperspast.natlib.govt.nz.

Evening Post [online] Available at www.paperspast.natlib.govt.nz.

Fielding Star [online] Available at www.paperspast.natlib.govt.nz.

Marlborough Express[online] Available at www.paperspast.natlib.govt.nz.

Mitchell, I. 1995 ‘Picnics in New Zealand During the Late Nineteenth and Early Twentieth Centuries: An Interpretive Study’, MA thesis, Massey University.

Nelson Evening Mail [online] Available at www.paperspast.natlib.govt.nz.

Otago Witness [online] Available at www.paperspast.natlib.govt.nz.

Press [online] Available at www.paperspast.natlib.govt.nz.

Star [online] Available at www.paperspast.natlib.govt.nz.

Swarbrick, N. ‘Birthdays and wedding anniversaries – Celebrating birthdays’, Te Ara – the Encyclopedia of New Zealand, http://www.TeAra.govt.nz/en/photograph/38840/lolly-scramble (accessed 16 September 2016).

Taranaki Herald [online] Available at www.paperspast.natlib.govt.nz.

Waikato Independent [online] Available at www.paperspast.natlib.govt.nz.

Woodville Examiner [online] Available at www.paperspast.natlib.govt.nz.

The world is your oyster – a tale of talking molluscs, bar brawls and Victorian vice…

I don’t know about you, but I don’t like oysters – they’re slimy, they look weird and they taste like the sea. So perhaps I was affected more than your average person when I recently had the task of analysing an assemblage of artefacts that provided an abundance of similarly decorated stoneware jars. These jars were all the same form, one which I had never come across before. A quick internet search determined that some collectors refer to these as ‘oyster jars’ – this was an unfamiliar term for me, and it piqued my curiosity. Further research revealed that the canning and pickling of oysters was a common enterprise in 19th century Canterbury and around the world!

DSC_5339 ed2

The stone ware jars. Image: C. Dickson.

Now, not being a fan of them, the idea of other people not only eating oysters, but eating old oysters, wasn’t appetising. But I looked at a few recipes online and, actually, the concept didn’t seem so bad – vinegar and cayenne pepper form a part of my regular diet…

Pickled Oysters recipe from 1884 – Mrs Lincoln’s Boston Cookbook.

Pickled Oysters recipe from 1884 – Mrs Lincoln’s Boston Cookbook.

Normally, it is difficult to determine the original contents of a vessel without manufacturer labels. In fact, jars and bottles with wide mouths like the ones from my assemblage may have been used to store or pickle any number of food or condiment varieties, or even viscous household items like glue or shoe polish. This being said, the large number of oyster shells that were found in the rubbish pit alongside the jars did suggest that these two items were related in this instance – and it is possible that the 19th century family that lived in the associated Rangiora house pickled their own oysters.

 A more common 19th century oyster jar shape.

A more common 19th century oyster jar shape.

The canning and preserving of oysters has taken place since 1850 (Hunt 2010), and oysters have been a commonly consumed fresh food resource here and around the world since ancient times – their consumption can be traced to the ancient Greeks and Chinese, and they are commonly found in early Māori rubbish deposits (referred to by Māori as tio). European industrialisation in the 18th and 19th centuries made these slippery morsels readily available to everyone and saw them become the great unifier – enjoyed by the wealthy and the poor. It was during this period that New York became the oyster capital of the world and it is said that in any day during this late 19th century, six million oysters could be found on barges tied up along the New York harbour waterfront (Happillion 2016). The catch was sold to New Yorkers everywhere from street corners to high class restaurants and in every way imaginable – in the half shell, roasted and in stews.

So ingrained were oysters in 19th century popular culture they can be seen everywhere – we witness the lure of an oyster meal for both the working class and the upper class alike in Lewis Carroll’s 1871 The Walrus and the Carpenter poem, from Through the Looking Glass. In this classic children’s story, we see the overweight and well-dressed walrus swindle the hardworking carpenter out of his oyster meal, while tricking the unlucky and naïve oysters into taking part in a buffet where they’re on the menu. Perhaps not all of Alice’s adventures in Wonderland were based on nonsense?

An oyster buffet - before and after.

An oyster buffet – before and after. Image: Wikia and Classics Illustrated.

From the 1860s oysters were increasingly popular among European settlers in the colonies, and by the 1880s New Zealand joined the oyster craze with the emergence of the oyster saloon – otherwise known as the ‘oyster bar’, the ‘oyster house’ or the ‘raw bar’. Such establishments sought to offer the freshest and tastiest oysters available – generally claiming to provide fresh stock daily (New Zealand Tablet 7/8/1896: 14). Now this may not always have been the case – oysters were available locally in Christchurch and Lyttelton, but the ever popular Stewart Island beds were also supplying to Canterbury during this period (Star 17/4/1875: 1). It was during this time that Christchurch saw the emergence of several fine dining oyster options – Cashel Street’s Café De Paris provided not only the finest oysters night or day, but also quality beverages, operatic entertainment and a separate section for ladies. The establishment claimed to be ‘the best in the colony’ and its success lasted well into the 20th century.

Fresh! Press 10/3/1896: 1.

Fresh! Press 10/3/1896: 1.

At the opposite end of the etiquette scale, the more typical oyster saloon quickly became synonymous with drinking – being one of the only places to purchase cheap food late at night, as an accompaniment to beer. The phrase ‘red light’ district’ was derived from New York oyster bars, which put up red balloons to indicate that the oysters had arrived, and in London, the lighthouse building at King’s Cross flashed a beam from its turret (Smith 2015). Unsurprisingly, these establishments also developed a reputation as houses of vice – news reports from this era are frequently linked to crime –anything from publicans supplying liquor without licences (Press 2/11/1901: 7) and the use of obscene language (Star 27/7/1885: 3) to violent encounters between patrons – male and female (Press 15/7/1881: 2). There are even reports of violence between patrons and establishment owners – take this report for example: three individuals named Maloney, Larsen and Creasey (these names reminded us of some sort of gangster pantomime), got into an altercation with an oyster bar proprietor, who stabbed Maloney in the side and wounded his side-kick (Grey River Argus 26/5/1898: 4). Such reports are accompanied by letters from concerned Cantabrians, who write into the paper questioning the appropriateness of such establishments being located “under the shadow of the cathedral spire” (Star 14/3/1882: 2).

Oyster bar associated with gluttony? (New Zealand Herald 1/4/1939: 5).

Oyster bar associated with gluttony? (New Zealand Herald 1/4/1939: 5).

Further connections were made between the oyster’s aphrodisiac qualities and Victorian vice in the popular 19th century erotic magazine The Oyster, which was printed and distributed privately in London from 1883. This publication and its predecessor, The Pearl, were banned, and its author was prosecuted for the risqué content – which you can see for yourself did not consist of mere pictures of ladies’ ankles (reproductions of the issues are still available on Amazon. This is interesting stuff from before the times when science made the link between oysters being a food source high in zinc (which raises testosterone levels), as well as a source of rare amino acids that increase levels of sex hormones in men and women. Such nutritional values were also possibly known to 18th century Casanova – who reputedly consumed 50 oysters for breakfast daily, and claimed to have seduced 122 women. Or perhaps he was part of the tradition that saw oysters as an aphrodisiac due to their visual similarities with their form and that of the female anatomy…? (Schulman 2008).

Looking back further – Aphrodite (goddess of love and sex) was born from a mollusc shell and the ancient Roman physician, Galen of Pergamon, described oysters as aphrodisiacs because they were a food that was moist and warm… This being said, Galen said the same for all ‘windy’ foods (those which produce gas – if that’s what you’re into), and going even further back, Babylonians looking to increase sexual appetites bit the heads off partridges, ate their hearts and drank their blood, while the ancient Greeks dined on sparrow brains to produce a similar effect (Thring 2011; Camphausen 1999; Hoppe 2015). But I digress…

Aphrodite and her mollusk shell. Attic Red Figure, ca 370 - 360 BC, Museo Archeologico Nazionale, Salonica, Italy.

Aphrodite and her mollusc shell. Attic Red Figure, ca 370 – 360 BC, Museo Archeologico Nazionale, Salonica, Italy.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, the reign of the humble yet hazardous oyster saloon was not to last. One can still frequent bars that specialise exclusively in oyster delicacies in cities larger than Christchurch, but over-consumption and the subsequent depletion of our local marine resources saw the end of the oyster as an abundant, ‘cheap and cheerful’ food source.  Our government began to intervene as early as 1866, with the Oyster Fisheries Act, which introduced licencing, a fishing season and the creation of artificial beds (New Zealand Parliamentary Debates 18/8/1865).

As a result, oysters eventually claimed their modern status as a luxury item, to be afforded and consumed by the wealthy, or saved for special occasions. The basic idea of the oyster saloon itself evolved into what we now think of as the fish and chip shop, where we are provided with a bevy of convenient and inexpensive (and fried) seafood options. So the tradition isn’t completely dead… But maybe don’t start a bar fight on your next visit your local fish n’ chippy.

Chelsea Dickson

References

Anonymous 2016. The Oyster Vol. 1: The Victorian Underground Magazine of Erotica (online) Available at: https://www.amazon.com/Oyster-Vol-Victorian-Underground-Magazine-ebook/dp/B000MAH5H4.

Camphausen, R. C. 1999. The Encyclopaedia of Sacred Sexuality. Inner Traditions International, Rochester.

Grey River Argus. [online] Available at www.paperspast.natlib.govt.nz. [Accessed May 2016].

Happillion, C. 2016. The History of Oysters. [online] available at: http://theoystergourmet.com/the-story-of-oysters.

Hoppe, D. Aphrodisiacs in History. Diana Hope, M.D., INCS. [online] Available at: http://www.drdianahoppe.com/aphrodisiacs-in-history-part-1/

Hunt A., L. 2010. Fruits and Vegetables, Fish, and Oysters, Canning and Preserving. Nabu Press, Charleston.

Lincoln, M., J., B. 1884. Mrs. Lincoln’s Boston Cook Book. Roberts Brothers. [online] Available at: http://digital.lib.msu.edu/projects/cookbooks/books/mrslincoln/linc.pdf

New Zealand Parliamentary Debates 18 August 1865 P326

New Zealand Herald. [online] Available at www.paperspast.natlib.govt.nz. [Accessed May 2016]

New Zealand Tablet. [online] Available at www.paperspast.natlib.govt.nz. [Accessed May 2016]

Press. [online] Available at www.paperspast.natlib.govt.nz. [Accessed May 2016]

Shulman M., 2008. The Science of Aphrodisiacs In U.S News & World Report 19/05/2008. [online] available at: http://health.usnews.com/health-news/family-health/sexual-and-reproductive-health/articles/2008/08/19/the-science-of-aphrodisiacs [Accessed May 2016]

Smith, D. 2015. Oyster: A Gastronomic History (with Recipes). Abrams, New York.

Star. [online] Available at www.paperspast.natlib.govt.nz. [Accessed May 2016]

Thring, O., 2011. Aphrodisiacs: the food of love? In The Guardian. [online] Available at: http://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/wordofmouth/2011/feb/11/aphrodisiacs-food-of-love. [Accessed May 2016]