1953 First Edition of "Country Wines", By Mary Aylett

1953 FIRST EDITION OF "COUNTRY WINES," BY MARY AYLETT - RECIPES OF OLD TIMES FOR A CONTEMPORARY TIME

WHERE DO YOU GET THE RECIPES FOR COUNTRY WINES? OLD COOKBOOKS? HANDWRITTEN JOURNALS? OR WORD OF MOUTH?

     THE SMALL FORMAT, 1953 EDITION, IN HARDCOVER WITH DUSTJACKET, IS VALUED, BASED ON PRISTINE CONDITION, UP TO FIFTY DOLLARS, IN AMERICAN FUNDS. IT DECREASES IN VALUE IF THERE IS ANY DAMAGE, SUCH A STAINS, RIPPED PAGES, DAMAGED SPINE AND CLOTH-COVERED BOARDS. IN THE CASE OF THIS LITTLE BOOK, SOME FORMER OWNER, WHO WAS POSSIBLY GIVING THE BOOK AS A GIFT, CUT-OFF A SMALL PORTION OF THE DUSTJACKET, ON THE INSIDE-FRONT, TO REMOVE THE BOOK'S PRICE TAG. IT TAKES A SMALL PORTION OF THE VALUE OFF, AS DO TWO SMALL STAINS, AND SOME SCUFFING OF THE DUSTJACKET AROUND THE EDGES. OVERALL, WITH A CLEAN TEXT, AND LOOKING WELL CONSERVED, THIS HANDSOME LITTLE BOOK WILL BE LISTED FOR FIFTEEN DOLLARS. WHAT IT POSSESSES IN CHARACTER, IS ALL WITHIN ITS EDITORIAL COPY. IF YOU'VE NEVER THOUGHT MUCH ABOUT THE ISSUE OF "COUNTRY WINE," THEN YOU PROBABLY HAVEN'T SPENT TOO MUCH TIME WORRYING ABOUT THE PRESERVATION OF OLD FOLK SONGS, OR FOLK ART. THE RECIPES IN THIS BOOK, ARE MUCH LIKE FOLK SONGS, BECAUSE SO MUCH IS BASED ON TRADITION, PASSED ON TO THE NEW GENERATION, ON AND ON THROUGH THE AGES. THE RECIPES ARE ALTERED AND ENHANCED TO SUIT THE MODERN TASTE, BUT AS WAS THE CASE, BACK IN 1953, VERY FEW OF THESE WINE MAKERS, IN THEIR HUMBLE ABODES, WORRIED ABOUT COPYING DOWN THE RECIPE FOR THE POSTERITY OF OTHERS. BUT, IN A SMALL WAY, THIS WAS ADDRESSED BY MARY AYLETT, IN THIS FASCINATING LITTLE STUDY, PUBLISHED BY ODHAM'S PRESS OF ENGLAND. THE BOOK DID GO INTO LATER REPRINT. IT IS A TIMELESS PIECE, IN REALITY, AND ONE THAT WILL FIT INTO 2014, JUST AS IT DID IN 1953, WHEN IT FIRST ARRIVED ON BOOKSHELVES.

     "THE IDEA FOR THE BOOK ORIGINATED IN THE AUTHOR'S PERSONAL QUEST FOR WINE RECIPES, WITH WHICH TO UTILIZE THE PRODUCE OF HER HUSBAND'S WELL KNOWN VINE-YARD IN KENT. AS SHE BECAME MORE INTERESTED, MARY AYLETT BEGAN TO WRITE DONW AND COLLECT THE RECIPES THAT SHE GATHERED FROM VARIOUS NINETEENTH-CENTURY BOOKS, HAND-WRITTEN COOKERY BOOKS, AND ABOVE ALL, BY WORD OF MOUTH FROM COUNTRY FOLK THEMSELVES. IT IS THIS VERY EXTENSIVE COLLECTION OF RECIPES FOR TRADITIONAL COUNTRY WINES, INCLUDING MANY THAT HAVE NEVER BEFORE BEEN PUBLISHED, THAT FORMS THE SOLID BASIS FOR THIS UNUSUAL AND DELIGHTFUL BOOK." SO NOTES THE INSIDE FLAP OF THE DUSTJACKET. NOW, WHAT DOES MARY AYLETT HAVE TO SAY ON THE SUBJECT?

     "BY FAR THE GREATER NUMBER OF THE RECIPES WERE COLLECTED AT THE BACK DOORS OF LITTLE COTTAGES, OR FROM OLD, OFTEN HANDWRITTEN COOKERY BOOKS, AND FROM MEN WHO REMEMBERED ONLY THAT THEIR MOTHERS USED TO MAKE SOME ESPECIALLY FLAVOURED WINE. IN SUCH CASES EXPERIMENT HAD TO SUPPLY THE DEFICIENCY. I DO NOT SUPPOSE THAT I SHALL EVER KNOW THE NAME OF THE OLD FARM LABOURER, WHO ONCE LEANED OVER MY GARDEN GATE, ONE SUNNY DAY, WHEN I WAS PICKING MY RED-CURRANTS, AND SAID: 'MY OLD MOTHER USED TO MAKE LOVELY PARSNIP WINE,' BUT I AM GRATEFUL TO HIM NONE THE LESS. HE TOLD ME, NOT ONLY HER RECIPE, BUT HOW TO MAKE IT CLEAR AND SPARKLING. MISS FISHER, OF SHOTTENDEN, WHO GAVE ME FOUR LARGE STONE JARS, AND LENT ME THE BOOK IN WHICH, FOR MORE THAN HALF A CENTURY, SHE HAD COLLECTED RECIPES, WRITTEN IN A LABORIOUS, UNLEARNED HAND, HAS BEEN UNDER THE BEECH TREES IN THE VILLAGE CHURCHYARD, THESE MANY YEARS.  SHE WAS A LITTLE DISORDERED IN HER MIND FOR SOME TIME BEFORE SHE DIED, AND HER FAMILY SAID THAT, POOR SOUL, IT WAS A BLESSED RELEASE; BUT TO ME IT WAS A DISASTER, FOR SHE WAS A FAMOUS WINE-MAKER, AND SHE WAS GONE ALMOST BEFORE I HAD BEGUN MY OWN EXPERIMENTS.

     "THEN THERE IS AN OLD GENTLEMAN, LIVING AT DOVER, WHO CARES NOTHING FOR THE WORLD, AND WITH WHOSE NAME I HESITATE TO TAKE, WHAT I FEEL HE WOULD REGARD AS A LIBERTY. HE IS RATHER AN AWESOME OLD MAN AND HIS VIEWS UPON MODERN LIFE ARE DECIDED, AND A LITTLE HARSH. HE WOULD RATHER POTTER FOR AN HOUR OR TWO IN HIS CELLAR THAN WATCH THE FINEST SHOW ON EARTH. WHEN NEXT YOU DRIVE TO DOVER ON THE LONDON ROAD, YOU WIL PASS A ROW OF INCONSPICUOUS MID-VICTORIAN HOUSES, COMFORTABLE, WELL-TO-DO, AND DULL, BUT ONE OF THEM HIDES A SECRET. IF YOU WERE TO MOUNT THE GREY CONVENTIONAL FRONT-DOOR STEPS, TO RING THE BELL AND TO BE ADMITTED, YOU WOULD FIND AN ENVIRONMENT VASTLY DIFFERENT FROM THE ONE YOU HAD EXPECTED. ABOUT A CENTURY AGO, WHEN THE BUILDER OF THE ROW OF RESPECTABLE FAMILY RESIDENCES, WAS ABOUT HIS BUSINESS, ONE HOUSE THREATENED TO DESTROY THE UNIFORMITY OF THE TERRACE. IT WAS A FINE OLD JACOBEAN HOUSE, AND ITS OWNER REFUSED TO ALLOW IT TO BE PULLED DOWN, BUT, BEING A MAN OF HIS TIME, HE SYMPATHIZED WITH THE BUILDER'S DESIRE FOR SYMMETRY, AT ALL COSTS. SO THE VICTORIAN FACADE WAS MOUNTED ON TO THE OLD AND LOVELY HOUSE; THE BUILDER WAS SATISFIED, AND THE OWNER, HIS SON'S SON, HAVE LIVED THERE EVER SINCE. THERE WAS A LITTLE DAMAGE DURING THE LATE WAR, BUT IT WAS NOT SERIOUS. ACROSS THE THRESHOLD OF THIS INTERESTING HOUSE, ONE ENTERS ANOTHER WORLD. BENEATH THE OLD PANELLED ROOMS, LIE COMMODIOUS CELLARS, AND THEY ARE NOT EMPTY AND NEGLECTED, AS ARE SO MANY OF THEIR KIND TODAY. THEY ARE FILLED TO THE BRIM WITH BARRELS, BOTTLES, HOGSHEADS, FIRKINS, DEMI FIRKINS AND CASKS, MANY OF THEM, BY THEIR APPEARANCE, AS OLD AS THE HOUSE ITSELF. THE WINES ARE ALL OF THE OLD GENTLEMAN'S OWN BREWING, FOR HE GAVE UP BUYING FROM ABROAD MANY YEARS AGO, WHEN HE QUALITY OF IMPORTED WINES FELL BELOW WHAT HE WAS PREPARED TO TOLERATE. SOME OF HIS BREWS ARE THIRTY YEARS OLD, AND TASTING THEM IS AN EXPERIENCE THAT DOES NOT OFTEN COME ONE'S WAY IN THE TWENTIETH CENTURY. THEY WERE MADE FOR LOVE AND NOT FOR TRADE."

     ACCORDING TO MARY AYLETT, AUTHOR OF THIS WONDERFUL BOOK, "MANY OF MY RECIPES WERE FOUND IN UNLIKELY PLACES. THE ONE FOR MARROW RUM CAME FROM A MUSIC TEACHER AT A HIGH SCHOOL. SHE CAME FROM LINCOLNSHIRE, WHERE SHE ASSURED ME IT WAS ONCE MADE IN EVERY COTTAGE, THOUGH SHE HAD NOT TASTED ANY FOR YEARS. MR. JARRY, A DISTINGUISHED ENTOMOLOGIST, ONCE CAME TO SEE US ABOUT THE DEATH-WATCH BEETLE IN OUR BEAMS, AND STAYED TO TELL ME ABOUT THE MEAD HIS MOTHER MADE IN SUFFOLK, FROM THE HONEY FROM HER BEES. TREACLE WINE I GOT FROM AN OLD REPROBATE IN OUR VILLAGE, WHO WAS OFTEN SEEN IN A STATE OF ALMOST INDECENT HILARITY, IN THE DAYS WHEN THE 'LOCAL' WAS SOMETIMES CLOSED FOR A WEE, ON ACCOUNT OF SHORTAGE OF SUPPLIES DURING THE SECOND WORLD WAR. I REMEMBER, TOO, THE MIRTH THAT WAS PROVOKED WHEN A SMART LONDON TRAVELLER, PAID A POUND A BOTTLE FOR WHAT HE THOUGHT WAS EXCELLENT WHISKY, THINKING IT TO HAVE BEEN WORTH MUCH MORE, AND THAT HE WAS 'PUTTING ONE OVER,' ON THE YOKELS,. IT WAS TEN YEAR-OLD DANDELION WINE.

     "IT IS AMONG SUCH SCENES AND FROM SUCH PEOPLE THAT THE FOLLOWING COLLECTION OF RECIPES HAS BEEN MADE. MOST OF THEM ARE VERY OLD; MANY OF THEM HAVE NOT BEEN PRINTED BEFORE; THEY ARE IN THE REAL TRADITION OF FOLK ART. A STUDY OF OLD COOKERY BOOKS IN THE BRITISH MUSEUM WAS REMARKABLY UNFRUITFUL. THE MAKERS OF COUNTRY WINES WERE EITHER COTTAGERS OR BUSY LADIES, OF THE MANOR, BREWING THEM ALONG WITH THE BEERS, POTIONS AND POSSETS OF THE STILL ROOMS. COOKERY BOOKS OF ALL PERIODS UNTIL THE NINETEENTH CENTURY DEAL MOSTLY IN UNUSUAL RECIPES TO GRACE MY LORD'S TABLE; THEY WERE TOO COSTLY TO BE BOUGHT BY HUMBLE PEOPLE, WHO HAD TO RELY ON MEMORY AND TRADITION FOR THEIR KNOWLEDGE. HOW MUCH HAS BEEN LOST, OF COURSE, WE CAN NEVER KNOW. COUNTRY WINES WERE SIMPLY MADE, BY SIMPLE PEOPLE, WORKING WITH THE ORDINARY EQUIPMENT IN THEIR HOMES. THEY KNEW NOTHING OF SCIENCE, BUT TOOK WHAT NATURE PROVIDED AND FERMENTED IT IN NATURE'S WAY. USUALLY IT WAS GOOD; NOW AND AGAIN, 'SOMETHING WENT WRONG WITH IT,' THEN THEY PROBABLY CURSED A LITTLE AND THREW IT AWAY. THEY WOULD HAVE BEEN NO HAPPIER EMPLOYING SCIENTIFIC METHODS, WHICH ENSURE THAT THOUGH THE WINE IS NEVER BAD, IT IS NEVER VERY GOOD EITHER. OUR ANCESTORS WERE SPARED THE MONOTONY THAT AFFLICTS US, AND THEY MADE SOME WONDERFUL WINES. IF ANYONE DOUBTS THE POTENCY OF THE BREWS LET HIM HEED THE FOLLOWING CAUTIONARY TALE. WHEN I WAS YOUNG, AND NEWLY MARRIED, MY HUSBAND AND I MOVED FROM LONDON TO A SMALL VILLAGE IN THE HOME COUNTIES. WE REGARDED THE VILLAGE AND ITS INHABITANTS AS IF THEY WERE PART OF A CHARMING, STYLIZED COMEDY, AMIABLE RUSTICS, RURAL INNOCENTS. WE WERE, AFTERALL, VERY YOUNG."

     "ONE FINE SUNDAY MORNING, IN SPRING, WE WERE CROSSING THE VILLAGE GREEN ON OUR RETURN FROM A LONG RAMBLE, WHEN WE MET A MAN WHOSE ACQUAINTANCE WE HAD ALREADY MADE, ON SOME SMALL MATTER CONNECTED WITH OUR NEW HOUSE. HE WAS A RETIRED POLICEMAN, AND AFTER THE USUAL EXCHANGE OF COMMENTS UPON THE WEATHER, HE INVITED US TO STEP INTO HIS SMALL ROSE-CLAD COTTAGE, TO MEET HIS WIFE, AND TO TRY HER COWSLIP WINE. WE WERE CHARMED AND AT ONCE ACCEPTED. THE COWSLIP WINE PROVED TO BE EXCELLENT, AND THE GOOD LADY APPEARED TO BE DELIGHTED WITH OUR APPROVAL AND PRODUCED SPECIMENS OF MANY MORE FOR OUR TASTING. WE TRIED THEM ALL WILLINGLY; POTATO WINE, DAMSON PORT, ELDERBERRY AND RASPBERRY AND MANY MORE. WE CONSIDERED OURSELVES TO BE SOPHISTICATED DRINKERS, AS WAS THE FASHION IN THE BLOOMSBURY OF TWENTY YEARS AGO; THE WINES HAD NO 'KICK,' AND WE THOUGHT OURSELVES QUITE SAFE IN MIXING SO MANY SO FREELY. INTERESTED AND ENTERTAINED BY THE AMUSING TALES OF VILLAGE LIFE AND BY THE LIGHT AND DELICATE WINES, ONLY THE OPENING OF THE CHURCH DOORS REMINDED US THAT WE HAD YET A MILE TO GO BEFORE REACHING OUR HOME FOR LUNCHEON. WE THEN TOOK A POLITE FAREWELL OF OUR HOST AND HOSTESS AND STEPPED OUT ON TO THE GREEN; THEN WE REALIZED THAT WE HAD BEEN INDEED, DRINKING ALCOHOL. WITH CONCERN WE GAZED AT EACH OTHER'S WAVERING OUTLINES, AND WERE OBLIGED TO CLING TOGETHER FOR SUPPORT AND TO MAKE OUR WAY ACROSS THE GRASS IN FULL VIEW OF THE MOST RESPECTABLE PEOPLE IN THE DISTRICT, FROM WHOM OUR CONDITION COULD NOT BE DISGUISED. MOST OF THE BEST PEOPLE NEVER RECOVERED FROM THEIR FIRST SHOCKED SIGHT OF THE NEW TENANTS OF HONEYSUCKLE COTTAGE, BUT THE POLICEMAN AND HIS WIFE NO DOUBT ENJOYED THE JOKE."

     THE AUTHOR NOTES, "THIS OLD COUPLE WERE GREAT PROFICIENT, BUT THEY GAVE NO SECRETS AWAY. FROM THEM I LEARNT NOTHING BUT CAUTION, BUT IT WAS A VALUABLE LESSON. COUNTRY WINES VARY MUCH IN STRENGTH AND POTENCY, ACCORDING TO THE CONDITION OF THE FRUITS, THEIR MATURITY AND THE ABILITY OF THE MAKER, BUT EVEN THE MOST DYNAMIC NEVER PRODUCE A HANGOVER. THAT IS A PRODUCT OF SCIENCE; IT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THE ART OF WINE-MAKING, WHICH YIELDS ONLY MIRTH AND GOOD HUMOUR, TWO COMMODITIES WHICH IN THIS AGE ARE IN SADLY SHORT SUPPLY. I FEEL, THEN, THAT IT IS TIME TO SAVE WHAT IS LEFT OF SUCH A SIMPLE, VALUABLE AND ONCE WIDELY PRACTICED ART, WHICH CAN BE A SOURCE OF INNOCENT PLEASURE TO ALL; A WHOLESOME ADDITION TO A WOEFULLY DEPLETED DIET, AND NEW STIMULUS TO A SADLY WANING HOSPITALITY."