Cassell's New Dictionary of Cookery

From Aberdeen Crullas to Zwiebach — the vast Cassell's dictionary with a recipe for everything, each priced to the penny ('Probable cost, 2s.'), plus the whole science of the 1912 kitchen.

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Dandelion, Stewed

The first mention of this dish would perhaps inspire most English people with aversion, but we can honestly advise them to try it. It is an inexpensive dish, and easily obtained; for fresh growths after showery weather may be had throughout summer and winter. Gather an equal quantity of fresh dandelion and sorrel leaves. Pick off all the withered tips and hard parts of the roots; shred them into fine strips, and wash them free from grit. Put the dandelion by itself into a copper stewpan, cover it with a small quantity of boiling water, and stew until nearly tender; add the sorrel, and simmer until the water has evaporated and the whole is soft. Mash with a wooden spoon; stir in a lump of butter; flavour with pepper and salt, and serve like spinach. The dish may be garnished in a variety of ways, either with hard-boiled eggs, sippets of fried bread, or slices of boiled carrot cut into shapes. It is usually served with white meats, as veal, sweetbreads, etc.; but it is excellent as a garnish for poached eggs. Some persons cook this vegetable without sorrel, but to our taste it is too bitter, and wants toning down. It is impossible to fix a price for the plant, as it is not a market article. It will, in all probability, be more often found on the tables of the rich than of the poor, not from its cost, but from its peculiar taste and flavour.

For the Modern Kitchen Do not make this as written.

A wild-greens dish that reads as thoroughly modern once you accept the foraging. Two points matter more than the rest: choose your leaves early, and do not use the pan the book specifies.

A Little History

Dandelion has been eaten far longer than it has been weeded out, and the defensiveness here — the assumption that the very name will repel an English reader — says a good deal about attitudes to wild food. On the Continent it never lost its place: French cooks treated pissenlit as a salad and potherb without apology. The closing remark is the most revealing line on the page. A plant free for the taking, the author notes, will probably appear on rich tables rather than poor ones, the reason being not its cost but its peculiar taste and flavour. Wild greens were becoming a matter of taste rather than necessity, which is roughly where they sit again now.

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