I am delighted to be taking part in "Fish & Quips", a blog-event hosted by Sam of Becks & Posh, and dedicated to the proposition that English food is not a joke.
I have since spent a few afternoons lost in happy memories of English cheeses and sausages, Yorkshire pudding, clotted cream, Cornish pasties -- marvelling that most of the English sausages I've had were in Hong Kong, and the Cornish pasties in Australia -- and poring over such books on English food as Sybil Kapoor's Williams-Sonoma London and Marguerite Patten's We'll Eat Again -- two more disparate books you may never find, but both encompassing the range of English food -- and my old favorite, an old edition of Great British Cooking by Jane Garmey, as well as those cookbooks who celebrate English food simply by virtue of their authors being English -- Nigella Lawson, for one.
So I thought for a while about what I might share -- perhaps the bridies that I've tasted but not yet made myself (Scottish, to be sure, but are we splitting hairs?), or something new to me altogether? I was leaning towards scones -- leaning so far, in fact, that I made some and ate them while pondering -- but in light of the fact that others taking part in this event might justly be already celebrating this delightful sine qua non of afternoon tea, I thought I would perhaps do something different.
A librarian friend of mine was once asked what might have been Shakespeare's favorite cookie. She decided to write to the Folger Library, that bastion here in America of all things Shakespearean, and she received in return a copy of a page from The English Hous-wife, containing the inward and outward Vertues which ought to be in a compleat Woman, &c., &c., &c., dating from 1653, with this recipe:
"To make Jumbals more fine and curious than the former [i.e. the previous entry], and nearer to the taft of the Macaroon : take a pound of fugar, beat it fine : then take as much fine wheat flower, and mix them together : then take two white and one yolk of an Egg, half a quarter of a pound of blanched Almonds : then beat them very fine altogether, with half a dish of sweet butter, and a fpoonful of Rofe-water, and fo work it with a little cream till it come to a very ftiff paft, then roule them forth as you pleafe : and hereto you fhall alfo, if you pleafe add a few dryed Annifeeds finely rubbed, and strewed into the paft, and alfo Coriander feeds."
The Oxford English Dictionary, which dates the word to 1615, defines jumbal as a "thin, sweet cake or biscuit," what we in America would of course call a cookie. The name was derived from gimbal, that double-ringed suspension device used on boats, or gimmal, a finger-ring made from two rings that fit together, and it referred to the traditional joined-rings or figure-8 shape the jumbals made after the dough was rolled into ropes and twisted. Apparently sometime between Bosworth Jumbles around 1485 (admittedly apocryphal) and The English Hous-wife, it became popular to roll out the dough and cut it into various shapes instead.
The instructions for these jumbals are different from the way that we usually make cookies nowadays, starting with mixing together the flour and sugar, instead of creaming the sugar and eggs first. It doesn't really make a lot of difference to the end result, and I rather like the historical throwback of using the original methods at times, but I find it a bit simpler the modern way, so that's how I've written it up. I've also adjusted the balance of flavorings and the eggs, as not only do I dislike bothering with half of an egg (wh. usually ends up forgotten in a dish in the back of the fridge), but makes this recipe easier to halve.
I shape these sometimes by rolling a generous spoonful or so of dough into a ball before baking, a simpler alternative to using the rolling pin, especially if the kids are helping. In that case I often leave the anise seeds until after making the balls, and then merely press a few seeds into the center of each jumbal for decoration.
Sugar, by the way, used to come in solid cones, and the cook would break off what was needed and "beat it fine" into its usable, granulated form.
This version of jumbals makes a sturdy yet delicately-flavored cookie, not too sweet, and rather chewy in the middle with a pleasantly lingering hint of anise. Perfect, need I say, with a cup of tea!
Details on how to take part in Fish & Quips can be found here. Sam requests that entries be posted by April 20, to be in the round-up on April 23 -- Shakespeare's birthday!
Jumbals
1/2 cup butter, at room temperature
2 cups sugar
2 eggs, at room temperature
1 tablespoon rosewater
1 teaspoon ground coriander
1 tablespon anise seeds
4 cups flour
a small measure of cream or milk
Preheat the oven to 350° F.
Cream the butter and sugar in a large bowl, then add the eggs and rosewater, mix well, and then add the coriander and anise seeds. Add in the flour, a little at a time, beating gently after each addition. Add just enough cream to make a stiff dough, but not sticky.
On a floured surface, roll out the dough to about 1/4-inch thickness, and cut into 1 1/2- to 3-inch rounds. Gather the scraps together and repeat until all of the dough is shaped.
Place the jumbals about 1 inch apart on a cookie sheet, and bake for 20-25 minutes or until golden-brown around the edges.
Makes 3 to 5 dozen jumbals, depending on size. Active work time, about 20 minutes.
