Author Archives: John Cutrone

Bartlemy’s Wayzgoose

Typesetter_at_Enschede_Haarlem

WAYZGOOSE is a fun word that gets tossed around a lot in printing circles, usually marking a big celebration involving presses. But the word, beautifully obscure as it is, does have one particular day associated with it: St. Bartholomew’s Day, the 24th of August… also known as St. Bartlemy’s Day, or Bartlemas. St. Bartholomew is one of the patron saints of bookbinders. Indeed, of most anyone associated with the book, so he has become a patron saint of book artists, in general. I may be a writer, but I come to words through the book arts, so these are my people: we are papermakers, book designers, printers, and bookbinders, and St. Bart watches over all of us and our crafts.

We know very little about Bartholomew the man. He was one of the Twelve Disciples; that much we do know. He may have traveled to India, to the area around Bombay. Tradition says that he met his end in Armenia in the first century; he is one of the legion of saints who met gruesome deaths for their beliefs, and his was about as gruesome as it gets. You may want to skip the next sentence if you don’t want to read about it…. Here goes: St. Bart was flayed alive, and as if that wasn’t harsh enough, he was then crucified upside down. If you skipped that sentence, it’ll make no sense, really, why he is patron saint of bookbinders, so go on, go back and read it. Done? Okay, good. That flaying made St. Bartholomew a patron saint of butchers (and there were many in my family, for generations back in Italy on my dad’s side) and of tanners… and of bookbinders, who very often bind books in leather. (It all makes sense now, doesn’t it?)

Then there are the papermakers, whose Bartlemas traditions have more to do with the subtle daily shifting from summer to winter. While the bookbinders were honoring St. Bartholomew with their leather bindings, the papermakers were marking St. Bart’s Day in an “out with the old, in with the new” fashion, using up the last of their summer pulp in the vats by making paper not for the print shops but rather for folks to use to seal off their windows for the coming winter. Glass windows came into vogue much later; earlier on, it was waxed paper that was used to keep out the elements. Once this St. Bart’s window paper was made, the papermakers went back to making paper for the printers, clearing out the vats and recharging them with new pulp made from rags that had been retting all summer long.

And finally, the printers. The printers are the life of the Bookish Bartlemas party, for it is the printers who celebrate the Wayzgoose, a particularly English custom with a direct link to the waning summer. All summer long, they’d been setting type by sunlight. But come St. Bartholomew’s Day, that sunlight was fast decreasing; we are, after all, a full two months now past Midsummer. That longest day each June is followed always by increasingly shorter days, increasingly longer nights, as we proceed on that annual trek toward Midwinter. The Bartlemas Wayzgoose came about as a marker of days: It was the day each year when printers typically returned lamps and candles to the print shop, when they began again to set type with the aid of lamps. A good print shop proprietor would bring in not just the lanterns and candles, but some good food and strong ale to boot. His crew might get the day off and a little extra pay, as well, which was typically spent on a goose to roast for the table (which is one theory of the source of the word “Wayzgoose”). In some places, mead, the delightful intoxicating beverage made from honey, was the beverage of choice. Especially in Cornwall, where a Blessing of the Mead ceremony takes place even today at this time of year. Continuing the road of connexions, our friend Bart is also a patron saint of beekeepers. As we continue to gather our stores for the coming winter, it is traditional, too, to bring in the honey crop on his feast day.

It’s a couple of years ago now that I first read that the Jerusalem Post, on August 27, 2010, reported that Johannes Gutenberg’s 42-Line Bible, the first book printed from moveable type, was completed on St. Bartholomew’s Day in 1454. I’ve tried finding other sources to back up this claim, but I have to date had no luck. Still, I like the idea of this and if it is indeed true, this may have something to do with the day becoming a matter of such importance to printers and bookbinders. No matter what is fact and what is legend, our view on the day is simple: Bartlemas is a day for celebrating the core traditions of the book arts: papermaking, printing, and bookbinding. If you are a maker involved in these noble arts, as we are here at Convivio Bookworks, perhaps you’ll mark the day by making something suitably bookish. And if you are not a maker but a book arts enthusiast, your job today is to appreciate a good book. Perhaps you are preparing a traditional Rare Bartlemas Beef for your supper tonight, heady with nutmeg, ginger, mace, cinnamon, and cloves. And perhaps your Bartlemas is simply an excuse to pour some ale or mead. No matter your role or how you celebrate, we wish you a Happy Bartlemas, and a Happy Wayzgoose. If there ever is a day in the round of the year for bookish folks to shout Huzzah and cheers!… well, this is it.

 

Image: “Typesetter at Enschede Haarlem” by Charles Frederick Ulrich. Oil on panel. 1884 [Public domain] via Wikimedia Commons. Perhaps it’s Bartlemas Day? Perhaps there’s mead in that cup? The lamp’s not lit but the windows are open.

 

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To Make a Rare Bartlemas Beef

Flora_Sinensis_-_Cinnamon

Last year, a couple of days before St. Bartholomew’s Day, which is on the 24th, I went to the butcher shop to procure a beef brisket, and the next day began the preparations for our first Bartlemas Beef, using a recipe more than 350 years old… modified a bit to suit contemporary cooking methods. It turned out to be a really good meal, quite fitting for the traditional celebratory Printers’ Wayzgoose that also falls on St. Bartholomew’s Day, which, this year, is coming up on Wednesday. The Wayzgoose is a day worthy of celebration not just for us printers but for anyone who is a bibliophile. I suspect that describes most of the people who are subscribers to this blog. The preparations can take a bit of time. If you want to join in the celebration this year by cooking a traditional Rare Bartlemas Beef of your own, here’s a reprint of the recipe to get you going.

Some helpful hints on the recipe: we began with a fresh beef brisket and went straight to the step that calls for wine and vinegar. The vinegar we used was white vinegar. “Cover with paste”: I took this to mean put flour on it, like you do when browning beef for stew. We cooked ours all day in the slow cooker, and we ate our meal hot, rather than cold. And if you are going to eat your Bartlemas Beef cold, you’d best cook it Monday or Tuesday rather than on Wednesday. So here you go: the recipe, with some Bartlemas background to boot. It was the Convivio Book of Days chapter on August 22, 2015… though I did find a new illustration and I did alter the dates a bit so it fits this year’s calendar. Enjoy!

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Wednesday, the 24th of August, brings St. Bartholomew’s Day, the day of the traditional Printers’ Wayzgoose, and this is a big day for book artists like me: St. Bartholomew is a patron saint of bookbinders and book artists and his day has been of significance to printers and papermakers, as well, for centuries. Goose is one traditional meal for the day, as is cheese, for St. Bart is also a patron saint of cheesemakers. But so is Bartlemas Beef, which takes some time to prepare… hence today’s post, designed to give you the time necessary to prepare a proper meal for your Wednesday Wayzgoose.

This recipe for a Rare Bartlemas Beef is taken from The Cook’s Guide by Hannah Wolley, printed in London in 1664. (The book’s full title is quite long: The Cook’s Guide: or, Rare receipts for cookery Published and set forth particularly for ladies and gentlewomen; being very beneficial for all those that desire the true way of dressing all sorts of flesh, fowles, and fish; the best directions for all manner of kickshaws, and the most ho-good sawces: whereby noble persons and others in their hospitalities may be gratified in their gusto’s. Phew. Perhaps the first celebratory printer’s wayzgoose came about once the typesetter triumphantly finished setting the type for this long-winded title.)

Lady Wolley calls this beef “rare” meaning fine or good. It does not refer to the cooking temperature. Judging by the three days soaking, she means for us to use salted beef, but that was 1664 and this is not and I think we can begin with fresh beef at the second step of her recipe, where the vinegar and wine is introduced. Be that as it may, here is her full 1664 recipe for a Rare Bartlemas Beef:

Take a fat Brisket piece of beef and bone it, put it into so much water as will cover it, shifting it three times a day for three dayes together, then put it into as much white wine and vinegar as will cover it, and when it hath lyen twenty-four hours take it out and drye it in a cloth, then take nutmeg, ginger, cinnamon, cloves and mace, of each a like quantity, beaten small and mingled with a good handful of salt, strew both sides of the Beef with this, and roul it up as you do Brawn, tye it as close as you can; then put it into an earthen pot, and cover it with some paste; set it in the Oven with household bread, and when it is cold, eat it with mustard and sugar.

There you have it: an old old recipe for celebrating an old old holiday. The St. Bart’s Wayzgoose is not widely celebrated today, but, considering the current boom of interest in letterpress printing and book arts, perhaps it should be. Pass the mustard, please.

Cinnamon is one of the spices you’ll need to make a Rare Bartlemas Beef. The image of a cinnamon tree is from one of the earliest natural history books about China. Its author was an unnamed Jesuit missionary. Engraving, 1656 [Public domain] via Wikimedia Commons.

 

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Cucuzza, Assunta, & Ferragosto

Cucuzza

I spent a couple of hours yesterday, the 14th of August, in pursuit of cucuzza longa, the odd, obscure vegetable that Italians love to cook for the Feast of the Assumption. My best hope, I thought, would be the Italian market up in Palm Beach Gardens. That’s not close by.

“Why don’t you just call before you go?” Seth suggested. I thought about it. In my head, I conjured a teenage girl at the market answering the phone. I’d ask, “Do you have cucuzza longa?” and she would say, “I’m sorry, what?” “Cucuzza longa,” I would say again. “You know, the long green vegetable that’s kind of like zucchini, but really it’s a gourd. For the Assumption. You know. Don’t you?”

Of course she wouldn’t know. Cucuzza longa is one of the bizarre Mediterranean things our ancestors left behind in the Old Country that didn’t quite translate to their new home. But a few of them longed for these things even after they set foot on American soil, and they continued to grow them in their backyard gardens. My grandfather did, anyway, and so did Rosa, the old woman with the rough hands that my mom would buy vegetables from each summer. Rosa would wrap all our purchases in newspaper and twine. The cucuzza, I remember, would stick out of the paper; there was too much vegetable, in that case, to wrap completely.

So I drove up to the market instead, feeling not very hopeful but at the same time half expecting to see a big, special display of cucuzza awaiting me as I walked through the doors. Alas, no luck. (The photo, in case you’re wondering, is a random find from the Internet––thank you Unknown Cucuzza Photographer.)

My grandmother was born on the 15th of August, 1898; her parents, my great-grandparents, gave her the name Assunta, for she was born on Azzunzione, the Feast of the Assumption, which comes every 15th of August. It is a holy day of obligation for us Catholics. The Church in America moves the date around so that it falls on a Sunday each year, but in Italy it remains the 15th of August, its proper day, and a national holiday. It is, as well, the start of Ferragosto, a time when most Italians close up shop and head to the seaside, a practice that goes back to the country’s Ancient Roman roots. The name Ferragosto, in fact, is derived from the Latin Feriae Augusti (Holidays of the Emperor Augustus).

The cucuzza longa in the picture above are each, no doubt, upwards of three feet long. They’re gourds, not squashes, and the plant’s flowers are white, not yellow like squash flowers. They can grow straight as bowling pins, yet some grow into curvy serpentine shapes. We peel them, cut them into long strips, and cook them up with a scramble of eggs, parmesan cheese, and lots of flat-leaf Italian parsley. Some fresh olive oil and salt and pepper complete the dish. Paired with a crusty loaf of bread, it is a very good meal, and it is traditional for the Feast of the Assumption (and for Grandma’s birthday). If you know of a source here in South Florida, please let me know. Next year, though, my plan is to grow my own cucuzza in my summer garden, right next to the okra and the sunflowers.

August 15th brings another transition of late summer into fall: the dog star, Sirius, has been rising together with the sun each morning for the past six weeks and now Sirius begins to emerge from the sun’s bright light and heat to rise independently. This six-week joining of stellar forces each summer is known as the Dog Days of Summer, a time when days are thought to be the sultriest. This year, here in Florida at least, that was certainly the case. Tomorrow, with Sirius’s first independent rising in weeks, the Dog Days are over, the Dog Days are done. For another year, at least.

 

 

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