It’s 1734. What’s for Dinner?
Conflagration! is my second mystery novel – and my first historical mystery. The prospect of writing an historical mystery was both exhilarating and intimidating.
While authors always have some wiggle room when it comes to reality, the reality of the modern world is one we are familiar with. We’re living it. I had no idea what life in 1734 Montréal was like. Fortunately, the online resources available via Google and books from the local library helped to transport me back in time.
Marie-Joseph Angélique is at the heart of Conflagration! An enslaved Black woman, Angélique is accused of burning down the lower town and forty-six buildings in the process. Court clerk Philippe Archambeau is assigned the daunting task of following the judicial process as it unfolds from incarceration to trial to appeal.
As I delved into life in 1734 and the arson case on the docket, I was thinking about court transcripts and depositions and judgments. I wasn’t thinking about food. That lack of focus didn’t last long. I remember writing one scene where Philippe gets up early in the morning and makes himself a cup of coffee. I remember thinking, “Did they drink coffee in 1734?”
That question led me to explore the food people ate in eighteenth century New France. What was standard fare? A celebratory meal? Where did the food come from? How was it prepared?
Some of these questions (including the coffee one) are answered in Conflagration! as Philippe and his wife Madeleine go about their daily lives. Tea is a common beverage, and at one point, the couple brew a Bohea blend infused with orange peel. Bohea, pronounced bow-hee, is a black tea from China (some say of a low grade) that was so popular at one time the word became synonymous with “tea.”
Philippe also has lunch with a local jailer, Henri Geôlier. More accurately, he shares his lunch with Geôlier. That lunch is cold: ham or boiled eggs; fruit, often dried; and bread. According to the Canadian Museum of History, bread represented from 60 to 85% of the total daily food intake in New France.
One thing that was not a staple in Montréal as the seventeen hundreds unfolded: posset. This is primarily a British drink, yet it found its way into Conflagration! Philippe is originally from Acadia, where the British-French relationship was less acrimonious, at least until the British began expelling the Acadians in 1755. Posset, for Philippe, is a reminder of how different his Acadie is from Montréal.
The once-popular drink resembled egg nog. Interestingly, the name made its way back into the English lexicon in the 1800s, although by then posset had been transformed into a rich, cold lemony dessert that you can easily find recipes for today.
I’ve come across numerous recipes for the original drink. They invariably have a common foundation but differ in the nuances. Here’s my version.
Posset à la 1734
Ingredients:
235 ml (1 cup) light cream
1 cinnamon stick or a sprinkle of ground cinnamon
A sprinkle of nutmeg
3 egg yolks
235 ml (1 cup) sherry or brandy
30 g (2 tablespoons) sugar
Bring the cream slowly to a simmer. Add the spices. Stir regularly. Gently beat the egg yolks and add slowly to the mixture. Continue stirring to avoid curdling. Pour in the alcohol and add the sugar. Simmer the mixture but avoid bringing it to a boil.
Pour into cups, sit back, inhale the delicious aroma, and savour the moment.
On a warm spring day in April 1734, a fire raged through the merchants’ quarter in Montréal. When the flames finally died, 46 buildings – including the Hôtel-Dieu convent and hospital – had been destroyed. Within hours, rumors ran rampant that Marie-Joseph Angélique, an enslaved Black woman fighting for her freedom, had started the fire with her white lover. Less than a day later, Angélique sat in prison, her lover nowhere to be found. Though she denied the charges, witnesses claimed Angélique was the arsonist even though no one saw her set the fire.
In an era when lawyers are banned from practicing in New France, Angélique is on her own. Philippe Archambeau, a court clerk assigned specifically to document her case, believes Angelique might just be telling the truth. Or not. A reticent servant, a boisterous jailer, and three fire-scorched shingles prove indispensable in his quest to uncover what really happened.
Angélique’s time is running out as Archambeau searches for answers. Will the determined court clerk discover what really happened the night Montreal burned to the ground before it’s too late?
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