Patrick O'Brian has been a central figure in our lives for several years now. When the Aubrey/Maturin fever broke out among our friends, we took the infection early, we succumbed immediately and completely. Truth to tell, it was probably the music that first captivated us.

And then we began to notice the food. Almost from the beginning, we were struck by its pervasiveness, its importance. The Aubrey/Maturin novels absolutely teem with food. Ashore or afloat, in palace or in prison, at seamen's mess or admiral's banquet -- there are comestibles for every occasion. And we were entranced by the names. What is lobscouse? What is burgoo? What on earth is a thumping great spotted dog? We had to know. And now that we know, we have to tell.

These are the foods that Jack and Stephen ate. We do not recommend them to the unimaginative or faint of heart: some of them call for exotic, revolting, or fearfully expensive ingredients; many take upwards of a week to make; most of them cheerfully violate all the nutritional tenets of the health-conscious '90s. They are all, however, practical and authentic recipes, tested to our satisfaction (and to the detriment of our waistlines) in our own kitchens.

Go thou and do likewise.

Lobscouse

"It is one of the oldest of the forecastle dishes, and eats very savoury when it is well made....This was a rich man's lobscouse...the potatoes and pounded biscuit that ordinarily made up the bulk of the dish could scarcely be detected at all, being quite overpowered by the fat meat, fried onions and powerful spices."

Most English dictionaries, while they do define Lobscouse as a sailor's stew or hash, don't seem to have any clear idea as to the word's derivation. "Of obscure origin", they say, or "origin unknown" -- and then proceed to offer vague etymological connections to loblolly and Liverpool. We prefer to believe, as one source suggests, that Lobscouse began as a Nordic dish, as in the Norwegian lapskaus ("hodgepodge"), the Danish labskovs, or the Dutch/German labskaus. (Actually, the Norwegian dictionary says lapskaus comes from the English "lobscouse"; while the Danish dictionary says labskovs comes from the Low German labskaus; which the German dictionary says comes from the English "lobscouse". It seems none of them is willing to take the credit.)

We have no proof of age for the dish, beyond the fact that the earliest known English reference to it dates from 1706; clearly, though, it is an old and well-established nautical tradition in several countries. As of 1970, lapskaus was on the official menu for the seamen's mess of the Norwegian-American Line -- and to this day labskaus is so popular in the German port of Hamburg that some restaurants there serve nothing else (many of them garnish it with a fried egg, which in our minds only serves to underscore the resemblance between Lobscouse and modern corned beef hash).

We challenge anyone to disprove our pet theory: that Lobscouse originated with the Vikings.

2 pounds corned beef
2 pounds corned pork or smoked ham
1 bay leaf
4 large onions
6 large potatoes
4 large leeks
8 ounces Ship's Biscuit, or enough to produce 3 1/2 cups crumbs
6 juniper berries, crushed
1 teaspoon ground allspice
1 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1 teaspoon mace
1/2 teaspoon ground cloves
1/2 teaspoon ground cardamom
Dash cayenne
Salt
Fresh-ground pepper

Place the corned meat in a pot with bay leaf and cold water to cover. Bring to a boil and cook, covered, over medium-low heat until tender (2 1/2 - 3 hours). Remove the meat from the pot and discard the bay leaf. Skim and reserve the slush (fat). Reserve 3 cups of the cooking liquid.

(If you are using smoked ham instead of corned pork, you may want to pre-cook it as well, though this is not strictly necessary. We feel it improves the texture, so we usually cook it with the beef for about an hour.) Trim the meat and cut it into 1/4-inch dice. Peel the onions and potatoes, and cut them into 1/4-inch dice. Put the potatoes in cold water to cover.

Remove the root tips and the tough green ends of the leeks. Cut the remaining portion in quarters, lengthwise, and wash thoroughly under running water, separating the layers to remove any grit. Cut into 1/4-inch slices. Place the Ship's Biscuit in a plastic bag and pound it into coarse crumbs with a marline-spike or a belaying pin, a mallet, or any other large blunt instrument.

Heat 6 tablespoons of slush in a large frying pan over high heat. Add the meat and cook, stirring occasionally, until it begins to brown (10 -15 minutes). Remove the meat from the pan and set aside, draining as much fat as possible back into the pan.

Saute the onions over medium heat in the same pan (adding a little more slush if needed) until they start to soften. Add the leeks and cook until the onions start to brown. Drain the potatoes, add to the onion mixture, and cook, stirring often, about 5 minutes. Add the browned meat. Cover and cook over medium-low heat until the potatoes are almost tender (5 -10 minutes).

Stir in the pounded biscuit and 1 1/2 cups of the reserved cooking liquid (less if you like your Lobscouse very dry, more if you prefer it soupier). Add the spices, and salt and pepper to taste (be very generous with the pepper). Mix well. Cover and cook another 5 minutes. Serves 8.

Spotted Dog

The pudding was Jack's favourite, a spotted dog, and a spotted dog fit for a line-of-battle ship, carried in by two strong men.

"Bless me," cried Jack, with a loving look at its glistening, faintly translucent sides, "a spotted dog!"

"We thought as how you might like one, sir," said Pullings. "Allow me to carve you a slice."

Spotted Dog, Roly-Poly and Boiled Baby are all referred to at various times as Jack's favorite pudding, with perfect truth in every case. When Jack's not near the pudding he loves, he loves the pudding he's near. Nevertheless we must put in a special word for Spotted Dog. It is a handsome object, brown and appetizing; it has a moist, dense, cake-like texture; it is sweet but not too sweet, spicy but not too spicy, and altogether satisfying.

4 cups flour
1/4 cup sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 1/2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1 3/4 cups dried currants
1/2 pound suet, finely grated
1 cup milk
2 eggs, lightly beaten

In a large bowl, mix the flour, sugar, salt, cinnamon, and nutmeg. Stir in the currants, breaking them apart (the flour will coat them and keep them from clumping together). Mix in the suet. Add the milk and eggs, and work the mixture thoroughly with your hands.

Scrape the batter into a greased 6-cup pudding-basin. Tie a well-floured cloth over the pudding. Place the pudding in a pot of boiling water, cover, and steam for 2 hours. Unmold and serve hot, accompanied by Custard Sauce. Serves 12.

Custard Sauce

"In England there are 60 different religions and only one sauce."

This remark, originally made in French, has been attributed variously to Voltaire and to the Neapolitan admiral Prince Francesco Caracciolo. If the latter, could it be the reason he was subsequently hanged from the mast of the frigate Minerva at Lord Nelson's order? Could it also be the reason the sauce is known in France as Creme Anglaise?

4 egg yolks
1/4 cup sugar
Pinch of salt
1 1/4 cups milk
1/4 cup heavy cream
4 drops rose water
1 1/2 tablespoons brandy

Note: This sauce can be served hot or cold. It will thicken as it cools. Makes about 1 1/2 cups.

More Napoleonic Library

The Art of Louis-Leopold Boilly
Lobscourse and Spotted Dog