Jewry’s tart is incredibly simple, as are the recipes on the Food of England website, but as time went on, cream and eggs were added to the syrup filling. I don’t because I find the medicinal notes of treacle a bit too much in a tart (interestingly, treacle was once considered to be a medicinal food). However, some cooks do combine black treacle with golden syrup in their tarts. Golden syrup was not invented until the late 1880s, so Jewry’s tart layered black treacle with pastry (back then, ‘treacle’ referred to any syrup byproduct from sugar refinery), quite unlike the treacle tart we know today. It was mentioned by English author Mary Jewry in her cookbook, published in 1879 and The Food of England website has a very simple recipe published by the Newcastle Courant in July 1887. Its methodology is not unusual: you’ll see similar combinations of breadcrumbs, egg, double cream and pastry used in other tarts and puddings (the 17th-century carrot pudding being a case in point), but the treacle tart’s history is relatively recent. The classic treacle tart is another recipe borne of the need to use stale bread creatively. I’ve even scattered toasted, flavoured breadcrumbs over beans on toast. It’s easier and less expensive to use crumbs as a garnish: fried swiftly in a pan with herbs, garlic and lemon zest as a pangrattato for pasta, scattered on soup and stews, used as a breadcrumb coating for fried food, or as a thickener for sauces like Spanish romanesco are more economical energy-wise. A lot of these recipes require multiple stages or lengthy periods of cooking: steamed or baked puddings made with breadcrumbs cost a fair bit of energy unless you use a pressure cooker (which is in itself an outlay) the broken, golden breadcrumb and fat-rich crust of cassoulet, a medieval peasant meal, took hours to form in the bottom of a wood-fed oven that was left on all day, and even the cooking of crumb-plump meatballs requires batch frying which can take quite an age when you have a few mouths to feed. The use of breadcrumbs were a matter of thriftiness and a way of bulking out meals to feed a passel of workers or a family.
The crumb dried out slowly and evenly, and slices of two-day-old bread could be revived with a scattering of water and gentle heat.ĭespite its lack of preservatives, the bread lasted well, avoiding the damp, fusty mouldiness that besets fast-proved modern factory loaves.
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