A Delicious Childhood Memory

Sarah Wheeler’s Butterscotch Pie

(Reputed to be the First Butterscotch Pie)

This pie was mistakenly “invented” in a bakery (the Wheeler Creamerie Exchange of Connersville) in my home state of Indiana, when Sarah Wheeler, the proprietor, scorched the cream pie she was cooking while talking with a customer.  Her sons tasted the scorched results and claimed they were delicious; thus, a new pie flavor was invented! 

This is the recipe Sarah is said to have published in 1904 for a Methodist Church cookbook:

2 ½ cups milk

2 eggs separated

¼ cup flour

1 cup dark brown sugar, firmly packed

½ cup water

1/8 tsp. salt

1 ½ Tbsp. butter or margarine

1 tsp. vanilla

1 8-inch baked pastry shell

Thoroughly combine ½ cup milk, egg yolks and flour.  Set aside.  Scald remaining 2 cups of milk over hot water.  Combine brown sugar, water and salt in skillet.  Place over low heat and bring to a gentle boil.  Cook until mixture thickens and a few bubbles break sending up not whiffs, but puffs of smoke.  Add caramelized sugar very slowly, stirring constantly, to scalded milk.  When smooth, gradually stir in egg-yolk mixture and cook, stirring constantly, over hot water until thick.  Remove and add butter or margarine and vanilla.  When fat has melted, stir it in.  Cool.  Pour filling into cooled pie shell.  Make a meringue using the egg whites, ¼ tsp. Cream of tartar and ¼ cup sugar.  Spread over pie.  Bake in hot oven (400 degrees) for 8 to 10 minutes or until delicately browned. 

Margaret Hill McCarter, American Author (1860-1938)

"She dignifies and makes holy the tilling of the soil while not glossing over the hardships of life. It is drudgery, but she makes it a blessed drudgery, glorified by the loves of life, brightened by the higher vision - a drudgery which brings its own reward."

~ William E. Connelley, from A Standard History of Kansas and Kansans, 1918

A Hoosier-born author, brought up on a farm, located between Carthage and Charlottesville in Rush County, Indiana, Margaret “Maggie” Hill was the sixth of seven children of tenth generation Quakers. Her pioneer parents arrived in Indiana in 1858 from Randolph County, North Carolina. Raised in a home that stressed reading and education, Maggie, as a child, was considered shy, retiring and somewhat slow – a dreamer.

She certainly bloomed! After attending the Quaker Earlham College for 2 years, Margaret completed four years of coursework in two years to graduate with a degree in education from the State Normal School in Terre Haute. She began her professional career as an educator in Indiana public schools - near her family home, as an elementary “schoolteacher,"starting at the age of sixteen in 1876; in Rensselaer, as a high school principal; and in Goshen, as head of the English department. In 1888, at the age of 28, Margaret accepted a position as head of the English department at Topeka High School in Kansas, which she continued to fill until 1894.

Kansas became Margaret’s true and beloved home, where she married Topeka dentist, Dr. William Arthur McCarter, also Hoosier-born of pioneer parents, in 1890; raised 2 daughters and a son; and in 1901 began her long career as a prolific author. She edited, with biographical and bibliographical notes, several titles in the Crane Classics series, including: Hawthorne's Great Stone Face; and Miraculous Pitcher; Holmes' Grandmother's Story of Bunker Hill, Longfellow's Song of Hiawatha; Lowell's Vision of Sir Launfal; Shakespeare's King Lear and Merchant of Venice, and Whittier's Snowbound. She contributed poetry and short stories to various newspapers and magazines and authored many famous, well-loved books: A Bunch of Things Tied Up with Strings, 1901; Cuddy, and Other Stories, 1902; The Cottonwood's Story, 1903; Overflowing Waters, 1903; Christmas Eve in the Day Coach, 1905; Cuddy's Baby: A Story of the Kansas Folks; 1907; In Old Quivira, 1908; The Price of the Prairie: A Story of Kansas, 1910; The Peace of the Solomon Valley, 1911; A Wall of Men, 1912; A Master's Degree, 1913; Winning of the Wilderness, 1914; The Corner Stone, 1915; Vanguards of The Plains, A Romance of the Santa Fe Trail, 1917; Paying Mother: The Tribute Beautiful, 1920; The Reclaimers, 1918; Homeland: A Present Day Love Story, 1922; Widening Waters, 1924; and The Candle in the Window, 1925. Margaret Hill McCarter is considered to be Kansas’ first popular female author for her many novels set against the Kansas prairie and for memorializing the early days of the state; and she remains, today, Kansas’ bestselling female author.

“No one has succeeded so well in translating the atmosphere of Kansas prairies and the experiences and ideals of Kansas men and women as has Margaret Hill McCarter, author of Middle West fiction. It has been her task to search out and clothe with fitting words the simplicity and the real grandeur of the people who made Kansas and are still its breath and life.”

~ William E. Connelley

Margaret was also very active in the founding and work of several women’s and literary clubs, historical societies, and civic organizations in both Indiana and Kansas and was well-known as an orator at civic and women’s groups and on the Chautauqua circuit. Her lecture on Abraham Lincoln was said to be one of the “most thrilling and comprehensive that has ever been delivered on this subject.”

Margaret’s participation in state and national Republican Party politics resulted in an invitation to address the 1920 convention, making her the first woman to speak to the national gathering. She was awarded three honorary degrees: a Master’s from Baker University and Doctorates from both Washburn and Emporia universities.

"From the shy child on the Indiana farm to the busy woman who has earned for herself both gold and fame is a far cry - and yet not so far. She began life as a dreamer…'Is your castle in the air?' asks Thoreau, 'Good, that is where it should be. Now put a foundation under it.' And the foundation which Margaret Hill McCarter has put under her air castles is builded on the solid rock.”

~ William E. Connelley

To view more of Margaret’s book covers and other memorabilia, click here. 

James Whitcomb Riley ~ The Hoosier Poet

He taught us how to understand the music of the birds,

The robin made a tune for us, but Riley wrote the words;

And at his joyous task he wrought with such a wondrous art

That we could feel the happiness that filled the robin's heart.

And when the Spring comes back to us, and once again we hear

The golden song at eventide that rings so true and clear,

And when the April shadows fall across the meadow lane,

The gentle minstrel of the Spring shall sing for him in vain.

He wandered through the village streets the afternoon along,

He heard the children's laughter - and made it into song.

He made it into living song, that down the years shall wing,

And yet in song of simple words that they themselves could sing.

And through all ages and all lands forever - near and far -

In every time and every clime where little children are -

Shall they still thrill at the story time beneath the magic spell

Of him who told them what they thought  - and understood so well.

~ To James  Whitcomb Riley by James J. Montague

Known as the “Hoosier poet of the people”, and also as the “Children’s Poet,” James Whitcomb Riley, was born in 1849 in Greenfield, Indiana on the “National Road” or U.S. Route 40.

Riley's poetry and prose reflect romance, childhood memories, small town life, family life, friendship, nature, patriotism, and humor. Riley’s chief legacy was his influence in fostering the creation of a midwestern cultural identity. Along with other writers of his era, he helped create a caricature of midwesterners and formed a literary community that rivaled the established eastern literati in popular works. Books of his poetry and prose were published in both the U.S. and in Great Britain.

Riley’s most famous works were written in the Hoosier dialect of the simple farm folk of Greenfield and vicinity. As the famous author and literary critic (and Riley friend), Hamlin Garland, aptly stated: “…from this town, and other similar towns, has Whitcomb Riley drawn the sweetest honey of poesy—homey with a native delicious tang, as of buck wheat and basswood bloom with hints of the mullein and the thistle of dry pastures.” Riley’s work is considered whimsical and direct, as if he were telling stories to children around the fireside.

Three of the most well-known of his hundreds of poems are “When the Frost is on the Punkin,” “The Old Swimmin’ Hole,” and “Little Orphant Annie,” first published in 1885 as “The Elf Child.” This poem inspired not only the Little Orphan Annie legacy but also the famous Raggedy Ann dolls. Interestingly, “The Elf Child” was supposed to be re-entitled as “Little Orphant Allie,” named for a little girl named Mary Alice “Allie” Smith, who was a “hired girl” in the Riley household when the poet was growing up in Greenfield. An error by a typesetter changed Allie to “Annie.”

"Little Orphant Annie's come to our house to stay

An' wash the cups an' saucers up, an brush the crumbs away,

An' shoe the chickens off the porch, an' dust the hearth an sweep,

An' make the fire, an' bake the bread, an' earn her board-an' keep..."

By the end of the eighteenth century and until his death in 1916, Riley was a well-known poet and speaker who toured throughout the U.S. and Europe. He was the first poet in America to receive the gold medal of poetry from the National Institute of Arts and Letters, and he was an honored and regular guest at the White House. Every October the people of his hometown of Greenfield celebrate Riley with the Riley Festival, complete with a parade of all the local school children carrying and depositing fall bouquets at the foot of his statue on the courthouse lawn.

When the Frost Is on the Punkin

When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder’s in the shock,

And you hear the kyouck and gobble of the struttin’ turkey-cock,

And the clackin’ of the guineys, and the cluckin’ of the hens,

And the rooster’s hallylooyer as he tiptoes on the fence;

O it’s then’s the times a feller is a-feelin’ at his best,

With the risin’ sun to greet him from a night of peaceful rest,

As he leaves the house, bare-headed, and goes out to feed the stock,

When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder’s in the shock.

They’s something kindo’ hearty-like about the atmosphere,

When the heat of summer’s over and the coolin’ fall is here—

Of course we miss the flowers, and the blossoms on the trees,

And the mumble of the hummin’-birds and buzzin’ of the bees;

But the air’s so appetisin’; and the landscape through the haze

Of a crisp and sunny morning of the airly autumn days

Is a pictur that no painter has the colorin’ to mock—

When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder’s in the shock.

The husky, rusty rustle of the tossels of the corn,

And the raspin’ of the tangled leaves, as golden as the morn;

The stubble in the furries—kindo’ lonesome-like, but still

A-preachin’ sermons to us of the barns they growed to fill;

The strawstack in the medder, and the reaper in the shed;

The hosses in theyr stalls below—the clover overhead!—

O, it sets my heart a-clickin’ like the tickin’ of a clock,

When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder’s in the shock!

Cassandra's James Whitcomb Riley Collection:

Some decorative publisher's editions of James Whitcomb Riley's books:

Hoosier Sugar Cream Pie

This pie brings back wonderful memories of childhood when my family would enjoy this sweet dessert at the old Durbin Hotel in Rushville, Indiana and at the Copper Kettle in Morristown. I love this original recipe because the pie is a tad runny rather than the consistency of a firm custard. It comes out great, whether one chooses to use 2% or whole milk or cream.

The Copper Kettle, Morristown, Indiana

The recipe has been traced back to 1816, the year Indiana became a state and has been said to have originated by early Quaker settlers. (See photo of one of my pioneer Quaker great, great, grandmothers.)

This pie was a staple after the fall harvest, when all the fruit was gone. When the settlers would run out of apples and fruit from the fall harvest, they would start making these pies from ingredients available in almost any farmhouse when winter would start and around the holidays of Thanksgiving and Christmas.

Virtually unheard of outside of Indiana, Sugar Cream Pie officially became Indiana’s State Pie in 2009.



Preheat oven to 410 degrees.

Ingredients:

1 unbaked pie crust
¼ cup white sugar
¼ cup brown sugar
1 generous tablespoon butter
2 heaping tablespoons flour
1 pinch salt
Your choice of 2% or whole milk or cream (1-1 ½ cups…enough to fill pie shell).
1 egg yolk
Sprinkle of nutmeg and/or cinnamon

Mix brown and white sugar with flour. Sprinkle flour/sugar mixture over pie crust. Beat egg yolk and butter with milk. Fill pie shell. Take a spoon and swirl it through the milk mixture a couple of times. Sprinkle top with cinnamon or nutmeg.
Bake at 410 degrees for 10 minutes. Then bake at 350 for 45 minutes. The filling should be bubbling. The center should still jiggle. Be careful not to overcook or the filling will not set.

P.S. Sadly, the Durbin Hotel closed years ago, but the Copper Kettle is still serving their famous fried chicken dinners and sugar cream pie!

Pioneers to Indiana

I am descended both maternally and paternally from pioneers to Indiana, who arrived to the unbroken forests in the early 19th century from Connecticut, Virginia, Pennsylvania, Maryland, New Jersey, and North Carolina. These many grandmothers and grandfathers were mostly English or German in ancestry and traveled to the Hoosier State by horseback and Conestoga wagon.

From the History of Indiana by the Hon. W.S. Haymond, 1879:
"The journey from civilization to the forest-home for the pioneer, with his wife and family, was not among the least of their difficulties. The route lay, for the most part, through a rough country. Swamps and marshes were crossed with great exertion and fatigue; rivers were forded with difficulty and danger; forests were penetrated with risk of captivity by hostile Indians; nights were passed in open prairies, with the sod for a couch and the heavens for a shelter; long, weary days and weeks of tiresome travel were endured. Perchance the mother and child were seated in a rough farm-wagon, while the father walked by the side of his faithful team, urging them over the uneven ground. But they were not always blessed with this means of transportation. And, in the best cases, the journey westward was a tedious, tiresome, dangerous one...Generally the pioneers were blessed with good health, and enabled to overcome the privations of the forest travel. At night they slept in their wagon, or upon the grass; while the mules, hobbled to prevent escape, grazed the prairie around them.

But the toils and dangers of the pioneer were not ended with the termination of his journey. Perchance the cabin is yet existing only in the surrounding trees. But he never falters. The forest bows beneath his axe; and, as log after log is placed one upon the other, his situation becomes more cheerful. Already the anxious mother has pointed out the corner for the rude chimney, and designated her choice in the location of the door and window. The cabin grows day by day; and at length it is finished, and the family enters their home. It is not a model home; but it is the beginning of a great prosperity, and as such is worthy of preservation in history, on account of its obscurity and its severe economy. But it was a home, notwithstanding; and I venture the observation, that with all its lack of comforts, with all its pinching poverty, with all its isolation and danger, it was often a happy home; and perhaps its growth, in this respect, is not among the greatest of its accomplishments; yet after all, it has become happier, as well as wealthier...

The years passed on, and the pioneers continued their toils, submitted patiently to their hardships, until the light of civilization and prosperity dawned upon them in open cornfields, waving in harvest luxury, or in neat, comfortable dwellings, that were raised by the site of the cabin homes. But his dawn is rapidly approaching the high noon of prosperity. In place of the ever-winding 'trace,' the iron rail may now be seen, and for the old-fashioned two-wheeled cart we have the powerful locomotive. The scene has been completely changed. The forests have disappeared, or are rapidly disappearing, and being supplanted by cultivated fields. On every hand we may behold evidences of this great transformation. Let us thank God and praise the pioneers of Indiana for what has been accomplished, and, having the promises already fulfilled in our eyes, continue in the industry and perseverance for which we have had so glorious an example."