Women making shea butter in Ivory Coast, West Africa.

Traditionally produced in areas across West Africa, especially Ghana and Togo, African black soap is a multi-purpose cleanser that can be used on the entire body. It’s been used to remedy everything from acne (and its attendant scarring), to allaying the discomforts of eczema and psoriasis, alleviating dandruff and itchy scalp, and reducing fine lines and wrinkles.

This soap has been around for centuries, and like most other soaps, it’s essentially a mixture of lipids (fats, waxes, and fat-soluble vitamins) and ashes. But unlike other handmade soaps, this stuff doesn’t require the use of lye — or, as it is more sinisterly known, caustic soda. The absence of lye makes African black soap much softer overall, and almost putty-like when wet, with a crumbly and uneven surface. Incidentally, real African black soap is never uniformly black, and if you spot one that is, it’s probably not the real deal. Real African black soap varies from brown or beige to gray.

Plantains.

This distinctive color and texture is rooted in the way the soap is made, which starts with plantains, a more robust version of a banana. Plantains are rich in essential nutrients and oils — in particular vitamins A and E — which are great for your skin. To begin, the peels of the plantain are dried under the sun, and the desiccated skins are then roasted in a clay oven. From this foundation, various recipes can include cocoa pods, shea tree bark, or regular banana leaves. Usually, water and a combination of palm oil, coconut oil, and shea butter are then added and stirred for at least a full day. The mixture is filtered and set aside to cure, eventually hardening into a black soap.

Woman making shea butter in Togo, West Africa.

While these basics of producing African black soap are mostly known, specific recipes differ according to whoever is making it, with over a hundred identified formulas. Traditionally, the recipes are closely guarded and highly proprietary. As a result, there is a huge spectrum of size, shape, and color — sometimes even from the same vendor — when shopping for this stuff. But beware: African black soaps that are sold on the mainstream market in the United States often contain only a small percentage of pure black soap, with additives that debase the natural, organic properties of the original recipe. Derivatives such as liquid black soap and shampoos also likely only have a fraction of pure black soap in them. Many European and American companies also add black dyes to deepen the color (which, again, just indicates that it’s fake).

Woman cleaning shea nuts in Ouelessebougou, Mali.

Fortunately for the soap-smiths out there, the greatest thing about the formula for African black soap is that it requires no lye, a caustic substance that burn your skin and make you blind. As such, this soap is a great initial foray for those looking to make their own. While we noted that a traditional recipe for true African black soap is hard to come by, thanks to (duh) the Internet, it is possible to cobble together an fairly accurate version. We’ll help you with the first step. Happy suds!

Ingredients:
Cacao bean pods
Plantain skins
Coconut palm oil
Shea butter

1.) Remove the cocoa beans from the pods and burn over low flame until they turn to ash.
2.) Burn the plantain skins to ash.
3.) Add water to the cocoa bean and plantain skin ashes.
4.) Place the coconut palm oil in a double boiler.
5.) Add the ashes and shea butter to mixture.
6.) Cook over low heat, stirring until mixture becomes smooth.
7.) Soap should start to solidify and float to the top of liquid. Use a spoon to scoop it out.
8.) Place the soap mixture in a mold of your choice.
9) Allow two weeks for soap to cure before using.
10) Take a bath and enjoy.

You may also like

• Body Soap The science of soap is more complex than one might...
• Interesting Finds II WD-40 issues 1950s style collector’s can by Philip Kennicott, The...
• Biomimicry 1. “Animals and plants build structures of incredible complexity without...

Concord grapes. Photo by Andrew Morrell.

Humans have been eating and making wine out of grapes for a very long time. The Ancient Egyptians, Persians, Greeks, and of course, Romans were all notable grape-growing cultures. But grapes also have a history in the New World. According to the medieval Saga of Erik the Red, the Norseman Lief Erikson was so enamored by the profusion of wild grapes growing in the southernmost of his North American encampments that he called the site “Vinland,” or Wine-Land, an area thought to be between Newfoundland and New England. It is known that American Indians had been eating indigenous varietals there long before the next batch of Europeans (the British) finally arrived in the seventeenth century. Unfortunately, these colonists’ European grape varietals all failed because of mildew and New England’s too-short growing season.

Enter Ephraim Wales Bull, born 1806, and living for his early years near Boston Common via a cow path called Milk Street. An avid gardener in his youth, then gold beater by profession (producing gold leaf for the book trade), Bull eventually forsook city life and moved to a seventeen-acre farm in Concord, Massachusetts in August of 1836. It is on this farm that a new grape varietal would be born and quickly take over the country.

At the time, Concord was the center of Transcendentalism, pioneered by Bull’s new neighbors, Nathanial Hawthorne, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Henry David Thoreau, and the Alcotts. Bull does not explicitly figure in the work of the Transcendentalists (although he and Hawthorne were friends), but it’s not hard to imagine him agreeing with their views of the awesome powers of nature.

A prudent man, Bull brought a few grape vines with him from Boston to plant in his Concord garden, but it was two crucial pieces of thinking that led him to the creation of a new kind of grape. First he noted that native “gypsy” vines on the periphery of his property were ripening earlier than his own domesticated varietials. Secondly, he abandoned the practice of grafting or transplanting vines and instead adapted the work of Belgian botanist Jean-Baptiste Van Mons who promoted selective and recurring seed selection. Bull took the seeds of the“gypsy” vine (what is now believed  to have been a northern variety of Vitis labrusca or Fox grape) and, according to testimony he gave later, “put these seeds whole into the ground…. nursed [them] six years and…. obtained one worth keeping. The seeds of this were in turn planted and from these I obtained the Concord.” America’s most famous grape was born.

Bull's home today, now called "Grapevine Cottage." Photo by James Fox.

The original Concord vine trellis is still there, just to the east of Bull’s cottage. It is almost as if the man still lives there. Almost beyond the grave, Bull’s prudent voice is echoed on a nearby placard:

I looked about to see what I could find amongst our wildings. The next thing to do was to find the best and earliest grape for seed, and this I found in an accidental seedling at the foot of the hill. The crop was abundant, ripe in August and of very good quality for a wild grape. I sowed the seed in autumn of 1843. Among them the Concord was the only one worth saving.  -Ephraim Wales Bull.  

After five more seasons of pruning, Bull was ready to unveil his creation to the Massachusetts Horticultural Society at their annual convention on September 3, 1853. But by a quirk of fate, his long-gestated discovery was almost lost. On the day of the show, he fell ill and asked a neighbor to deliver samples of the grapes to the Society’s Boston headquarters. For reasons still unclear, the neighbor, and Bull’s grapes, never made it. Fortunately, several of the organizers had heard of and were dutifully expecting specimens of the famous grapes. Not finding any at the convention, they trotted out to Concord to see the man, and presumably, call his bluff. Bull was shocked upright, and explained how they were supposed to have been delivered earlier. Whereupon the organizers went back to Boston and found the grapes hidden among some squash and turnips in the vegetable judging area of the convention. Suffice to say, the Society found that the Concord grapes had indeed ripened weeks before others, and in larger quantities. They produced a rich aroma, made for good wine, and were especially hardy.

Image courtesy of Concord Free Public Library.

A year later, at a meeting in Concord of the Farmers’ Club, a group called the “Committee on the Concord grape” was created, and produced a report worthy of Monty Python:

Your committee have partaken of more than one bottle of wine made from this grape, and they assure the members of the club that they do not speak under the influence of wine, when they say that they know of no other grape in this country so well adapted to the production of wine as the Concord grape.

In the midst of such fanfare in 1854, Bull was able to sell a few thousand vines. Then nurserymen around the country realized these could be split, and quickly resold them at a profit. Within fifteen years, Concord grapes were being planted as far away as Oregon and amounted to 80 percent of US grape production. But this was of course long before Monsanto and seed copyrights, and Bull received not a penny for the proliferation of his invention.

Ephraim Wales Bull standing in front of the original Concord grapevine in Concord, MA. Photograph by Alfred W. Hosmer.

Bull was somehow able to funnel such financial–and no doubt personal–misfortune into electoral success by running as a Know-Nothing candidate (sort of an 19th-Century precursor of today’s Tea Party) for the Massachusetts House of Representatives. He won in 1856, and was elected State Senator the following year. He was also a member of the State Board of Agriculture for twelve years, and an active participant of Concord’s local school committee.

But Bull never forgot about his grape, and his own inability to create any lasting legacy of it. He lived to the age of 95, but by that point, most of Bull’s family had died, he’d become bitter and poor, and the Bull estate (such as it was) had fallen into disrepair. His epitaph bears the laconic inscription; “He sowed. Others reaped.”

Welch's "Grapelade" poster, circa 1918.

These days, Concords are not the dominant grape grown in the United States, having been beaten out in the juice market by less aromatic white grapes. (Juice became the primary fate of most domestic grapes after Dr. Thomas Welch devised a method to pasteurize Concord grape juice in 1869; his son then founded Welch’s Grape Juice Company in 1893.) Still, in 2011, over 400,000 tons of Concord grapes were grown in the US, and may yet enjoy a resurgence as Concord juice has recently been found to be useful in the prevention of heart disease and was ranked number one in antioxidant benefits by USDA researchers.

Drink a glass for Ephraim Wales Bull, without whom we’d have no grape juice at all.

Further reading

Schofield, Edmund A. “He Sowed; Others Reaped: Ephraim Wales Bull and the Origins of the ‘Concord’ Grape.” http://arnoldia.arboretum.harvard.edu/pdf/issues/1988-48-4-Arnoldia.pdf

Transactions of the Massachusetts Horticultural Society, 1908. http://archive.org/stream/transactionsofma0809mass#page/n5/mode/2up

You may also like

• Organic Wine On a recent trip to the wine store, I was...
• Vinegar Apples, rice, and honey all produce distinctive vinegars. Used as...
• Giant Pumpkin The winning Big Pumpkin at this year’s Iowa State Fair...

Haptics is the study of touch, perhaps the most enigmatic yet essential of our senses. Touch is directly linked to emotional development and health, which is why the rise of digital communication presents such a troubling paradox. On the one hand, social media, email, and texting bring people in greater contact with each other than ever before. On the other hand, such forms of contact lack the most fundamental element of connection — actual touch. While plenty have postulated about the social repercussions of this new paradigm, its actual health implications are only now coming to light. Taken together, this new understanding is leading the digital communications industry to reintroduce haptics in unexpected ways.

1. Touch is essential for development.
“The growing prevalence for human interaction through digital media–particularly for young people–versus personal physical contact, and the social and legal restrictions over physical contact in our schools and workplaces may have unintended negative consequences.” Read More.

2. Starving for touch…
“We’ve lost some of our ability to get along with people and have an easier time getting along with machines—at least they tend to respond instantaneously to our needs without much coaxing or interaction.” Read More.

3. Movement helps us learn.
“Writing by hand strengthens the learning process. When typing on a keyboard, this process may be impaired.” Read More.

4. Touch screens are made of glass but why not make them feel like fur or sand?
To create tactile feedback, the company says it uses “an ultra-low electrical current” to create “a small attractive force to finger skin.” Read More.

5. Need to migrate? Haptic compasses give provide a new sense of direction.
You can build a north-sensing feedback device into a belt using some pager motors, an Arduino, and a digital compass. Read More.

6. If you’re too far away to kiss a loved one, kiss your phone.
One phone includes force sensors and a strap that goes around a hand that can tighten, simulating a squeeze, when a friend grips their own phone. Read More.

You may also like

• Stella Metallurgica Lux What comes to mind when someone talks about authentic Italian...
• Mezcal While a bikini-clad, shot-chugging, glut of Spring Breaking tequilas dominate...
• Mirror, Mirror Checking yourself in the mirror is something we all do...

Back in his apartment a few blocks from his workshop, he spoke with us about how he made this newest board, and the proper way to care for cutting boards to ensure a long life.

What is the thought process behind the wood you choose?

I generally try to stick with domestic woods, so I primarily use cherry and walnut. They have a rich history in furniture making. I personally find maple a little too hard, a little rougher on the knife. So I like to go with something that’s a little softer. I also use reclaimed wood, typically anything [sourced] outside of the U.S. The two most frequent of those are beech and mahogany. Both have a comparable hardness to maple, but they’re also just so beautiful. Beech is a pretty plain wood, plain in color, but it’s so uniform that it looks sort of monolithic in a way.

How do you make a cutting board?

I get a rough cut, which means it’s not ready for gluing or much else. First I have to flatten one side, and it has to be perfectly flat so that it will be able to accept a glue joint. If there’s a little bit of a bend or something, the wood will inevitably want to bend and contort. You want to reduce that and keep the wood under control as much as possible. One way of doing that is making sure the glue joint is perfectly flat. So it goes through the joiner, then you get that perfectly flat, then I put it through the planer. The planer just makes it so that the second side is perfectly parallel to the side that was surfaced on the joiner.

I end up with five boards. Each one is two inches high, and let’s just say they’re like four feet long, and each one is about four inches wide. You glue together this panel, and then it has to be resurfaced. When you’re resurfacing, you don’t want glue all over the place, because it’s not very good for your joiner or planer, and it’s just going to wear the knives down quickly. After it’s been resurfaced, you end up with this panel about eighteen inches wide by four feet long by two inches high. And then you make a cross cut every two inches, and you end up with this one piece. You have a bunch of these and I basically flip them around to create a pattern. This way, too, it’s an inherently stronger joint. You see with a lot of Boos Blocks, there might be a checkerboard pattern, and where those four joints meet, it’s just a little weaker — there’s nothing really holding it together. With this brickwork pattern, this one brick shape is holding together two others.

I should also mention, when I’m doing the first glue-up, I’m trying to align the grain, and it creates an aesthetic pattern, but it also has a practical use. The closer to the center [of the grain] you are, the less that’s going to want to absorb and release moisture, as you get further down to the hardwood. That’s just more dense. Close to the bark is the sap wood, and that’s a little more susceptible to expanding and contracting. So the idea is to try to align it in such a way that the boards are going to naturally breathe together as a unit. That shouldn’t be too much of an issue provided that you regularly retreat it, but it’s one of those things where you try to do as much as you can to try to prevent the wood from what it wants to do over time.

What do you treat it with?

Well, after I’ve glued the board together, it’s basically a funky mess. So what happens next is basically just hours of sanding. I’ve definitely improved this a lot, but basically you just have to sand it flat by hand. Then, afterwards, I brand it with a little iron. So first I burn the block, then mix some epoxy and use some epoxy pigment, then mix that together and coat that over it and let it dry overnight and sand it. Then it gets submerged in mineral oil. I have a tank, and I actually just leave it there for about an hour and let it dry overnight, or as much as needed. I should mention, when sanding, I damp the surface of it, just to raise the grain, sand it, and then I might do it again just to see if that grain’s still rising. So then it gets finished, and I’ll actually test it again with some water, and if it needs another sand after it’s treated until it’s smooth, there isn’t really an issue. Lastly, I buff in a beeswax mineral oil mix that I make. The proportions of which, I’m not really sure. I just kind of do it by feel. And the beeswax is from this small farm way upstate. I just buff it in, sort of like a furniture wax. Then I wipe off the excess, and from there it’s just packaging, which is really just a card and some string.

How should a person care for a cutting board over the years?

I say treat it once every two to four weeks with mineral oil. As time goes on, you’ll need to do that less frequently. When you treat a board it’s important that all sides get treated, not just the surface. And when you coat it with mineral oil, you want to let it soak in anywhere between fifteen minutes to overnight, whichever you prefer. And then you just want to wipe off the excess the next day. Then after that’s dried, buff in beeswax. Also, there are butcher blocks that are like a century old or something or dry as a bone, but are still in working condition.

Can you revive a dried-out cutting board?

Yeah, you can do a number of repairs. If the thing is really dried, it just needs to be re-sanded to finish any wear, going as low as you need to. Then, just re-coat.

How do you sanitize a board?

When it comes to cleaning, just a sponge with the scrub pad – just using that with a little bit of soapy water. I would soak up a sponge, press it onto the board and just scrape off any of the big stuff and then you want to dry that immediately. Then you probably want to do something to sanitize it. You can leave salt on it overnight. Some people use bleach. I don’t recommend using bleach whatsoever. But what I do us use a one to one ratio of vinegar to water, and just apply, let it sit for a few minutes, and then wipe that off. Then you dry that and treat it with mineral oil or beeswax.

Do different types of wood require different types of care?

As far I know, it should be the same no matter what.

Should a cutting board be able to last a lifetime?

Ideally, yeah, they should be able to, because there are ones that certainly do. So yes, it should last a lifetime, or at least twenty to thirty years.

Could anyone make a cutting board?

It depends. If you want to commit yourself to woodworking and growing that, then the short answer is, “Yeah, definitely.” But, if it’s like, “Oh, I really want to make [one] cutting board,” then no. You’d have to learn some basics, which can be done through research, but… ill-advised. A long-grain cutting board is definitely a lot easier. If you really wanted to, you could do it yourself. Among woodworkers, it’s one of the first things you may learn. But what it really comes down to is a lot of investment with tools. I don’t see how you could do it for under a thousand bucks, just to make one.

What are some common mistakes in caring for a cutting board?

Never in your dishwasher, ever. Never leave it soaking in a sink. Those are really the two big ones. You don’t want it to get too close to intense heat. A friend of mine – he lives out in California – I think he left his out in the window on a hot day and that window just made it even hotter and it cracked. There are some people who make a fuss about mineral oil, and it being petroleum. Any alternatives, when you come down to it, something like vegetable oil, you can’t use, or something like olive oil – you really don’t want to use those because they turn rancid. So even if you make the argument that petroleum is really bad for you and going to give you cancer when you’re older, it’s like, okay, or you could eat something that’s rancid and threaten your life this week. Tung oil, though, is something that can also be used. I don’t use it though, because it’s primarily sourced from China.

You may also like

• Vintage Oak Board Thin cutting boards  are used in Germany as a plate,...
• Butcher Block Since I am still in search of a good butcher...
• Carbon Steel Knives In college I was befriended by the only true playboy...

Mid-century Stella factory workers. Image courtesy of Stella.

What comes to mind when someone talks about authentic Italian manufacturing and a nearly century-old tradition associated with it?

One possible answer to this question is Stella, an Italian company born from an intuition of Gino Sgarbi and Girolamo Chiozzi. In 1924, sandwiched between the economic crises caused by two world wars, these two entrepreneurs decided to create a brand which became a guarantee of quality.

Their story begins in Ferrara, a town of about 140,000 inhabitants located in Emilia-Romagna, a province nestled in Lombardia, the breadbasket of Italy. Manufacturing and history run very deep here. The highest government-certified appellations of balasamic vinegar, parmesan cheese, and lambrusco all hail from the area. And Ferrara itself lies on the south banks of the river Po, which besides being the lifeline of the area, also served as a defacto line of civilization when Caesar was busy conquering Italy for the Romans.

During the Renaissance, under the rule of the Este family, the city was transformed into one of the most important artistic centers of Europe, hosting poets Ludovico Ariosto and Torquato Tasso, but also artists such as Andrea Mantegna and Titian. In 1484, Duke Ercole I d’Este commissioned the Herculean Addition, one of the first examples of rational urban planning.

The twenty years that elapsed between the two world wars was characterized by a profound economic and social crisis that saw the dramatic rise of fascism. Liberal interventions in the economy eventually brought about an increase in agricultural and industrial production. Taxes were eased on businesses, and state monopolies such as insurance and telecommunications were privatized.

In this milleau, Stella began to bring forward a singular idea of craftsmanship modeled according to the passion and the ideals of its founders. Following WWII, the company came under the diretion of the founders’ two children Abdon Sgarbi and Franco Chiozzi.

In 1952, they added “Metallurgical Lux” to the Stella brand, taking advantage of stainless steel products for the kitchen. The economic boom following the war profoundly influenced the lifestyle of Italians, who began to buy better products needed for everyday life. The house and the kitchen became so the goal of Stella. The company’s production cycle took a marked approach away from mechanization, creating a process that certified craftsmanship and gave attention to every single product that left the factory floor.

Despite this, the company is composed of only twelve people, and their goods are therefore limited to a particular slice of the market. Their production changes monthly depending on demand, especially from the foreign market. Two thousand pieces per month is an average quantity. (Think of a Chinese company that produces the same number, but almost daily). What does this mean? Only one thing: quality.

We posed some questions to Abdon Sgarbi’s daughter Marina, who has directed the company since 2006.

What does Stella do different and how does this translate to quality?

In our shop there are no strict deadlines to meet. Our employees know more than the amount needed to achieve quality, and for us the quality is inherent not only in the finished product, but in all the individual parts that comprise it. Our manufacturing process starts from processing raw material, in our case stainless steel, which comes in coils and plates. Once we’ve acheived the desired shape, there are a number ​​of small jobs, mostly manual, for the finished product. At the end of the production cycle, products arrive on the desks of the assembly line here. Every detail is carefully inspected, and even the slightest imperfection is highlighted until the product is revised until obtaining quality typical of Stella.

What are the basic conditions necessary to carry on a manufacturing company that focuses on craftsmanship and authenticity?

The real underlying condition necessary for a manufacturing company like Stella is to believe in the value of their product. A value that does not stop at the product itself, but extends to the value of the experienced and capable workers, with their knowledge that allows us to achieve the best possible product.

How do you generate interest in your products and stay competitive in the face of lower-quality foreign competition?

We have enough money to enable us to advertise on a large scale, including celebrity testimonials. The best advertising is, therefore, our own product: the characteristics of quality and finish make it immediately recognizable as a product of higher quality than those imported. The important thing is that Stella products be displayed in stores, so that customers can compare them with others. Once the customer has purchased a Stella, we assist our customers with any questions or simple curiosities. We also offer a lifetime warranty, and execute any repairs with pride, making replacements of parts to all of our products, even the most dated.

What do you teach your apprentices and workers?

Our colleagues with more experience pass on their knowledge in a very natural way. People also have the opportunity to grow because our environment is small and family-oriented. Our technical manager, for example, worked with us for fifteen years, starting as a cleaning worker. Over the years, he demonstrated a continuing interest in every stage of production, including design, and today is the contact person at my side, not only in the organization of production, but especially in the design and prototyping of all new products. What I try to teach those who work with me is above all respect for the work of all colleagues, because a quality product is a combination of all stages of production, from initial molding up to marketing. Quality is the result of work of a group of people.

Tell us about the family history behind Stella.

“The Factory”, as we call it, was founded by my grandfather, Gino, and his partner, Mr. Chiozzi in 1924. My father, Abdon, had been working with my grandfather for eighteen years, while also studying at university. My mom, my sister, and her husband have also worked here for thirty years. My dad came to the factory every day for 80 years, and believe me, I’ve seen the work involved, both the pleasant things that those less pleasant.

After school, I would go to the factory, and after doing my homework, I would help in the assembly department and prepare the coffee. I also listened to conversations about what new products do, how to vary the production cycle, how to increase sales in a given market – in short, I was given a full immersion.

After graduation, it only seemed natural, after a year of work at the University of Bologna and at an accounting firm in Bologna, to return to work at the factory.

Tell us about your role at Stella.

My company is microscopic, so I still represent the “old farmer.” I am very proud of the work of my team, all of them. Being alone at the helm, I can see close up their efforts to get the quality product we demand that distinguishes us, to give our customers the best service both pre and post sales, and to give assistance to the consumer. I know how much work each of them does, and I want to do everything possible to maintain production at Ferrara, continuing a centuries-old tradition of manufacturing that is disappearing in Italy.

How is a new product born?

All our products are born in our technical department. My father was very good at drawing and has created products that are still best sellers. These days, our technical manager, Alessandro, is much better at that than me. It’s mainly because of him that we owe all the latest Stella products. Nevertheless, creating a new product is the thing I like most. Starting from an idea and then printing, welding, and assembling the material up to the desired shape always excites me. The birth of a new product is always a moment of euphoria. It’s very cooperative, with every suggestion, idea, and criticism always carefully considered and welcome. And the quarrels arising from them – “Move the handle over one centimeter!” “No, I do not understand anything shifted by 1.2 centimeters!” — are always a beautiful memory that make us laugh out loud.

You may also like

• Olivetti Typewriter When Camillo Olivetti, the founder of a growing Italian typewriter...
• Stifel Textiles J.L.Stifel and Sons, a textile manufacturing brand, was the foremost...
• Braun Electric Shaver When buying electric products, a compromise is likely unavoidable. I...

Stifel fabrics logo.

J.L.Stifel and Sons, a textile manufacturing brand, was the foremost cotton production company in West Virginia from 1835 to 1956 and was known for quality, indigo-dyed cotton calicoes. Calico, one of the oldest cotton products around, was a popular plain weave textile in no more than two or three colors. Softer and thinner than canvas or denim but durable and affordable, it was once widely used in workwear clothing. Common motifs included polka dots, flowers and dotted lines as found in bandanas and ticking.

A Stifel tag.

German immigrant J.L. Stifel first brought his skills as an apprentice dyer and calico printer to the United States in 1833. After spending a brief time working in Philadelphia and then in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania at a local woolen mill, he decided to head to West Virginia, walking most of the distance barefoot in order to preserve his shoes. Poor and alone, Stifel arrived in the growing town of Wheeling, spending the winter working at a local farm. His interest in textile dying returned, however, and in 1835, he spent what little money he had on a single bolt of unbleached cotton from the local mill, hand-dyed and sold it, then used the proceeds to buy another. A business was soon born.

As the town of Wheeling was connected to the rest of the country through national roadways and the Ohio River, it quickly became a destination for labor and industry, especially steel and cigar production. The large workforce required to sustain these industries needed low cost, durable garments, and J. L. Stifel saw to it that its needs would be met, marking the beginning of a prolific enterprise.

This lithographed steel sign hung outside a store selling Stifel's goods.

Later that same year Stifel married Barbara Becht and their small business soon grew. In 1859, he asked sons Louis and William to join the company, and J. L. Stifel & Sons quickly became known for its high quality handcrafted textile, hand pressing each piece of material with carved wooden stamps coated in ink resist, then dying the cotton in large indigo dye baths, creating a fabric that was both aesthetically pleasing and hard wearing. The company continued to use this technique until the introduction of mechanical processes at the end of the century. By the turn of the century, a third generation of Stifels managed production that included a 70,000 square foot plant employing 50 workers. At this time the company logo, a boot with the word “stifle” inside, was born, and as the word literally meant ‘boot” in German), it was fitting. A simple error – stamping the logo on the inside rather than the patterned side – became a mark of quality, and customers in countries as far as India, Africa, Latin America, and the Philippines chose to wear their garments inside out. Stifel wisely promoted itself largely through print ads and signage that would hang in dry goods stores. The signs would sometimes show neatly folded stacks of cloth with a detailed view of the prints, but often the products were seen in action; on a railway brakeman in overalls or a child in a romper. These prosaic signs claimed the “garments [were] sold by dealers everywhere” though the company was a maker “of cloth only.” In the twenty-first century, while labels or designers may be familiar to the consumer, rarely, if ever, is the maker of the fabric. This may be a testament to the fact that making one’s own garments was more common then than it is now. Stifel finally closed its doors in 1957. Pressure from foreign imports, increased prices of raw cotton and the introduction of new synthetics in the textile market led W. Flaccus Stifel, the last company president, to conclude that “the dyeing, printing and finishing of cotton goods just could not be done economically and competitively under current conditions.”

An offering of Stifel goods from a 1920 Sears catalog.

It’s not hard to understand why clothing created for an industrial workforce would demand durability over style. Workwear makers today still advertise hard-wearing products, but the textile is rarely credited. Materials, whether for clothing, furnishings, or technological gadgets tend to remain obscure. It’s only at the very high end of the market, where exclusivity sets it apart, that we hear about the origin of a textile and its virtues, like a fine silk or a rare species of wood. Though produced at such a high volume, Stifel calicoes managed to intertwine these very virtues with quality and craftsmanship, reminding us that the two need not be mutually exclusive.

You may also like

• Organic Cotton Cotton has a long history of being an immensely destructive...
• Stella Metallurgica Lux What comes to mind when someone talks about authentic Italian...
• Braun Electric Shaver When buying electric products, a compromise is likely unavoidable. I...

Glass from when glass was precious. Recovered from a shipwreck from c. 1025 near Serçe Limanı, Turkey. Image via the Institute of Nautical Archaeology.

As anyone from Alfred the Great to Dr. Moreau will tell you, an island is a great place for defending secrets. Italy’s Venetian Lagoon — and in particular the island of Murano — has been trading off its closely-guarded glassmaking methods for over a millennium (the earliest works dating back to the reign of King Alfred). It’s a true cottage industry, one that has enjoyed no less then two periods of global domination of the decorative glass market.

In that time, the island of Murano and its skilled workforce have been venerated, ostracized, plundered, restored, canonized, brought under the control of numerous empires and much imitated, but never bettered for sheer craftsmanship.

The Island of Murano, keeper of the secrets of glassmaking.

It must be something in the water right? Well yes, actually. One of the things that makes island culture so idiosyncratic is the special combination of elements that comprise the environment. Formations of local rock and local soil mix with local water to create a chemical brew unique to the area. If you’re seeking to create inimitable product, this fact is a goldmine. Often literally. To wit, an analogy. Not gold, but whisky: Off the west coast of Scotland lie the Hebrides, a chain of desolate islands renowned for their whiskys, exported throughout the world. Each island’s dram is noticeably different. The water is different. The grain is different. The wood in the cask is different. Each bottle is a literal product of the land, a flavor of what the earth is made of at a specific geographical coordinate.

Down at 45°27’29.88″N and 12°21’11.88″E, there are two special ingredients. One is silica, the raw ingredient in all glass. Silica is found in sand. Most common-or-garden-or-beach sand contains iron, which tends to give the glass a green hue. But the quartz pebbles found around the Venetian archipelago are unusually pure in silica, making for a fine, white sand. Add to this soda ash from the Levant (on which Venice held a monopoly) and you have the potential for clearer, finer glass. A potential that required the second special ingredient in order to be met: the role of Venice in medieval European geopolitics.

Deatil of color weaving through Murano glass.

FROM SECRECY TO SCARCITY

It began, like so few things, in the Dark Ages. By the 9th Century, Venice was already a major maritime city-state and an important trading post. Glass production was already in full force to the east; throughout the first millennium, Islamic territories had capitalized on technology pioneered in Egypt way back in the pre-christian era. Venice’s strategic location allowed its craftsmen to steal a march on the rest of Europe.

And as if that level of access to Mesopotamian glassmaking practices wasn’t good enough, in 1204, the crusades took the Holy Roman Empire to Constantinople and conquered it. This watershed event gifted the valuable techniques of the middle east’s most powerful city to the enterprising merchants of Venice, who went home and built scores of glass furnaces. Here, the new skill was developed and honed over the next century.

A Murano glass maker.

In 1291, the entire glass industry was moved from the main port to the island of Murano. Documentation from the period is sketchy, but it is widely believed the purpose of the move was two-fold. One was a practical worry, the fear of fire breaking out in Venice’s largely wooden city. The other reason was to isolate the industry’s trade secrets from the outside world. Now, the glassmakers of Murano were kept as virtual prisoners – albeit highly regarded ones. It was a classic free market technique. With those in the know insulated from those in the want-to-know, Murano glass became scarce and highly sought-after. Murano’s first golden age as Europe’s leading source of fine glassware had begun.

But a monopoly on know-how is essentially unsustainable, island or no. Rival glassmaking industries and shifting trade routes undermined the golden goose of Venezia. As the industry declined, so did the republic. First came Napoleon’s army in 1797. Then the Austro-Hungarian Empire in 1814. Habsburg sovereignty brought new regulation which favoured Bohemian glassmakers over Venetian, and restricted the movement of those raw materials such as soda ash, so integral to the Murano method. By 1820, there were just five glass-blowing factories on the island.

Apprentices at the glass ovens of Murano.

AN UNDYING TRADITION

But anyone gleefully anticipating the end of Murano’s glass industry was to be sorely disappointed. Glassblowing families remained true to their trade during the slump, doggedly passing down the techniques and dedication from generation to generation. This rich heritage kept an ancient tradition on life support until the turn of the 20th century, when a series of important investors stepped in to help restore Murano’s reputation. Importantly, the autonomy and integrity of the glassblowers was recognized and respected by this new money, itself a result of Victorian heavy industry. Looking at the best examples of the work, it’s not hard to imagine how a savvy modern businessman could see the potential. Exuberant, daring, uninhibited – by any objective standard, these are masterpieces of art, constrained by the limitations of the artisan tradition from which they arose. It’s a testament to their inarguable quality that they will could not be kept down by changing fashions or even tyrannical governments.

Blowing glass.

Perhaps there is a third special ingredient in Murano glass. Beyond the sand and geography is the weight of history. Simply, Murano is so good at glass because they’ve been doing it for so long, refining the process and developing new technology, unfettered by successive governments who weren’t prepared to mess with the secretive artisans on the island because, ultimately, they knew they had something special on their hands. The glassmakers of Murano may have been co-opted by the biggest empires in history, from Byzantium to Habsburg, but their art has outlived them all.

Fragments of manmade gems. Glass from the Serçe Limanı shipwreck in Turkey. Image from the Institute of Nautical Archaeology.

You may also like

• Borosilicate Glass Humans started making glass about 5000 years ago, which makes...
• Mirror, Mirror Checking yourself in the mirror is something we all do...
• Tapio Wirkkala Alvar Aalto certainly earned his title of “father of modern...

Lydia grating nutmeg into a bowl for an extra large spiced brandy bowl.

Before central heating and electricity, heating a cup of spirit with a hot poker was one of the more effective ways to warm up in the winter. The warmth soothed the senses and the alcohol mellowed the mind. But hot drinks are also delicious, which is why they survive well into our era of radiators. Jerry Thomas — the father of bartending as a skilled profession — allegedly even moved back to to the cold Northeast, after years bartending around the South, so he could once again live the pleasure of a hot drink on a cold day. So powerful was his call to warm a chill that he invented drinks like his famous Blue Blazer, a cocktail so hot it strikes fear into the hearts of men.

Below are variations on the classic hot toddy, and some tips on how to make your own with what you’ve got in the spice cabinet.

A clipping of the obituary for Jerry Thomas, grandfather of bartending and lover of hot drinks. New York Times, December 16, 1886.

To add to the coziness of drinking something hot, alcohol also enters our bloodstream quicker when it’s drunk warm. This warming from the inside is especially beloved in damp winter climates, like England with its Wassail, France with vin chaud, and cold Sweden’s glogg.

The spices we think of as pairing with hot drinks also have homeopathic healing powers attributed to them. Take cinnamon for example. Not only does a whiff boost our mental functions, it also has trace nutrients like iron, manganese and calcium. I’ve always liked healing foods that taste good, and to me, warming spices are some of my favorite flavors.

I like to make hot cocktails the way I make teas at home, by tossing herbs into a pot, letting it steep in hot water, then straining out the leaves and roots before adding an ounce or two of alcohol. Experiment with your favorite roots, I go with a few whole leaves of dried or fresh herbs, like lemon verbena, mint, rosemary, lavender, or thyme, a pinch of cinnamon, cloves, or a cracked cardamom pod and perhaps some dried ginseng root, immune-boosting astragalus, gentian, or burdock.

Making the toddy hot. Photo courtesy of Lydia Reismueller.

Brown spirits like rum and most whiskeys work easiest in hot drinks, but with a little creativity, any spirit can be sneaked into a hot drink, like the Gin Toddy recipe below. A spoonful of honey, maple syrup, or a fruit preserve helps to take the edge off, and a squeeze of fresh lemon gives vibrancy. Beyond that I’ll often add a few dashes of bitters, and maybe a slice of citrus or apple.

Another approach to fixing hot drinks, especially when you have a few friends over, is to stir up a pot on the stove with spice-infused cider , milky chai, or a rejuvenating ginger-ginseng-honey-lemon mash-up that you can add your choice of booze to.You don’t want to heat up alcohol over the fire (it will burn up, you’ll just end up with a non-alcoholic, rum-flavored tea). The trick is to ladle the steeped liquid through a strainer and into a mug, then add the alcohol and stick with a cinnamon stick.

Steeping the flavors.

Here are a few recipes, updated and more delicious than a plain cup of whiskey and hot water:

Gin Toddy by me
2 oz gin (I use Bombay Sapphire or Portland’s New Deal’s Gin #3)
1/2 oz palm sugar syrup (2 parts palm sugar to 1 part boiling water stirred until fully dissolved)
1/2 oz fresh lemon juice
Stir with a licorice root stick (the herb, not the candy)

This drink is as easy to assemble as it is tasty.  Palm sugar is available at most health food stores, and has more enzymes than sugar, to aid in digestion. The licorice root stick will soften nicely after yielding a bit of flavor to the drink, making it perfect for chewing.

Pear Brandy Toddy by Daniel Osborne of Central, in Portland, Oregon
1 oz pear brandy (like Clear Creek)
3/4 oz Becherovka (a Czech bitters liqueur flavored with anise, cinnamon and 32 other herbs)
1/2 oz fresh lemon juice
1/2 oz 2:1 honey syrup (or about a half teaspoon honey)
1 dash Aromatic bitters (Dutch’s or Angostura)

Add all the ingredients into a wine glass or a mug. Garnish with a stick of fresh thyme, a pear slice pierced with cloves, a cinnamon stick and lemon peel,  then top with approximately 4 oz of hot water.

Home on the Range by Greg Seider of Summit Bar in New York City
2 oz Buffalo Trace bourbon
2 oz apple cider
1/2 cardamom agave syrup**
1/4 oz lemon

Combine all ingredients in a mug and top with 4–6 ounces or hot water and stir. Garnish with a dash of chipotle chili powder on top.

**1/8 cup cardamom pods. Coarse grind them add 8 oz agave to 8 oz water. Bring to boil. Remove from heat, and cover for 20 minutes then strain out the cardamom pods. This syrup will last a while in the fridge.

Straining the toddy into a cup.

Boozy Mulled Cider (makes about 30 servings)
1 gallon of fresh apple cider
2 bottles of amber rum (Appleton’s VX) or a bourbon like Buffalo Trace
2 apples cored and thinly sliced
4 cinnamon sticks
1 small handful of whole cloves (about 20)
1 small handful of cracked black peppercorns (about 25)
5 cracked green cardamom pods
2 tablespoons of freshly grated ginger

Optionally, you can also add 1 cup of lemon juice (and their peels) and 1 cup of brown sugar.

Combine all ingredients — except the booze — in a pot over medium low heat, stirring occasionally, for 30–40 minutes.

Turn off heat, or turn on lowest possible, and add liquor of choice, stirring well. Strain to order with a tea strainer, OR put all the spices (except cinnamon) in a tea sack in the pot. Serve within 3 hours of making.

A cozy cup of hot toddy.

Hot Apple Toddy (The single serving version of a pot of hot mulled cider.)
2 ounces amber rum (like Appleton’s VX) or bourbon (like Buffalo Trace)
1 tbsp Morris Kitchen Boiled Apple Cider Syrup
1 clove
2 black peppercorns
1 cracked green cardamom pod
1 slice fresh ginger
1 cinnamon stick for stirring
1 apple slice

Put the boiled apple cider syrup, ginger, clove, black peppercorns and cracked cardamom pod in bowl, a glass liquid measuring cup, or tea pot and add 5-6 ounces of boiling water. Let this steep for 5–7 minutes, then strain into a mug or wine glass. Add rum or bourbon, and garnish with an apple slice and a stick of cinnamon.

You may also like

• Cocktail Recipes: Punch Punches are originally from India (panch in Hindi), and were...
• Cocktail Recipes: The Sour Sours are the taste of languid summer days: margaritas, daiquiris...
• Cocktail Bitters Now that cocktails have weaseled their way back into the...

Just a drop will do. Measuring out bitters. Image taken at Calyer Restaurant, Brooklyn.

Now that cocktails have weaseled their way back into the current drinking repertoire, it’s time to take a look at one the elements of many a good cocktail: bitters. These days, there are many different kinds of bitters with wildly diverging flavor profiles — from blueberry to celery — but their aim is the same. All bitters are concentrated elixirs of botanicals that add nuance and balance to a drink. The flavor doesn’t punch you in the mouth like a a glug of piña colada mix does — but a few drops of bitters can separate a great cocktail from a serviceable one.

A heap of classic and new recipes follow, so you can start flexing your bitters-dripping muscles right away.

In the broad sense, bitters can mean any liquid with bitterness that we can drink. Some are as drinkable as soda, but what we’re discussing today is the most potent and household-handy interpretation: cocktail bitters. Cocktail bitters are high proof — around 40% alcohol — not to get you drunk quickly, but to preserve the botanicals therein. (Cocktail bitters are undrinkable on their own to sane folk, and therefore not considered a regulated product.)

Angostura as ingredient. Page from an old cookbook.

The most widely-distributed and oldest brand still in production is Angostura Aromatic Bitters. It would be in my top 10 list of items to have in your home bar, and an indispensable ingredient to many classic cocktails. It’s a heady blend of barks, roots and botanicals native to its birthplace, Venezuela (although it’s now produced in Trinidad). The recipe is a secret, but it’s obvious there are quite a bit of spices involved, and smells like what I think of as Christmas on crack. The bitterness mainly comes from the Gentian root. They also produce a fine orange bitters that I prefer in my Marguerite, arguably the precursor to the Martini.

Peychaud's bitters. Very New Orleans.

The other notable producer who’s had a nice, long run is Peychaud’s, originally of New Orleans and a key ingredient in Sazerac (one of the oldest cocktails in America). It’s on the opposite side of the flavor spectrum from Angostura with a not-so-bitter profile that’s punchy with licorice and floral aromas.

Aside from those two stand-alones, there are heaps of new types of bitters in production. If you ask a cocktail bartender to name all the companies (never mind the flavors), you just may be able to stump them with several new brands.

Whether you’ve never heard of bitters, or you’re dying to round out your collection, the cool part about bitters is that they don’t go bad, and they are relatively cheap considering that a cocktail needs just a few dashes to add a nice bit of flavor. The list I have here is in no way comprehensive, but it does give a fairly rounded view of what’s on the market.

Regan’s Orange Bitters – Heavy on the cardamom, and a nice addition to an Old-Fashioned or Manhattan.
Amargo Chuncho – Similar to Angostura, but it’s from Peru, and it has a hint of cherry.
Dutch’s Colonial Bitters
Sweetgrass Cranberry Bitters
Sweetgrass Blueberry Bitters
Scrappy’s Lavender Bitters – A floral, astringent flavor with a subtle finish.
Bittermens Xocolatl Mole Bitters – The spicy side of dark chocolate.
Fee Brothers Grapefruit Bitters – Very straightforward and versatile.
Dr. Adam Elmegirab’s Boker’s Bitters – This is made from a recipe dating back to the early 1800s; the flavor is floral spices and citrus.
The Bitter Truth Celery Bitters – Predominant celery flavor with a zesty citrus finish.

Measuring with a jigger. Image taken at Calyer Restaurant.

Now, onto how to drink all these bitters. For good form, let’s start off by perusing a few classic drinks, and how you can give them an ‘update’ by swapping out different types of bitters. In all my years of bartending, I’ve never found a drinker I couldn’t match with a drink that contained bitters, so have good faith. Lastly, I’ll list a few modern recipes that have a good format for experimenting with different types of bitters.

CLASSIC DRINKS

Marguerite
Stephan Berg, one half of the team behind The Bitter Truth, a Munich-based manufacturer, traced this recipe’s first known publication to an 1896 book called “Stuart’s Fancy Drinks and How to Mix Them.”

2 ounces dry gin (Tanqueray works well)
1 ounce dry vermouth (I prefer Dolin)
1-2 dashes Regan’s Orange Bitters (Or swap out with Sweetgrass Blueberry or Cranberry)

Stir well over ice and strain into a chilled cocktail glass. Twist an orange peel on top.

Manhattan
Simple and satisfying, this is a drink that really benefits from closely-measured ingredients. You want to taste the whiskey, with just enough vermouth to smooth out the bite. Manhattans may be the perfect canvas for showing off the flavors in a bitters.

2 ounces rye whiskey (Old Overholt, Russell’s Reserve 6 Year)
1 ounces sweet vermouth (I prefer Carpano Antica)
3 dashes Angostura Bitters (I often substitute with Dutch’s Bitters, and I like to add a dash of Regan’s Orange Bitters)

Stir over ice and strain into a chilled cocktail glass. Garnish with a brandied cherry, a twist of orange peel, or both.

Bitters & Soda
This is the perfect tummy settler, and, if you want to enjoy the aromatics of the bitters, go without a straw.

To an ice-filled highball or pint glass, add:

8-12 dashes cocktail bitters (play around with types and combinations of bitters!)
Squeeze a lemon wedge and drop it in. Top with seltzer and stir.

Swirling a cocktail. Picture taken at Calyer Restaurant.

Pink Gin
Popular in the U.K. during the mid-19th century, this concoction is thought to have originated from the Royal Navy.

2 ounces Plymouth Gin
1-2 dashes of Angostura (I often substitute cranberry bitters, or Peychaud’s)

Stir over ice and strain into a small chilled cocktail glass (a large shot glass works too). Twist a lemon peel over the top to release the oils, then toss it.

Sazerac
Earthy and herbal, this is perhaps the oldest cocktail in America.

2 ounces rye whiskey (Old Overholt, Sazerac Rye, Russell’s Reserve 6 Year.)
¼ ounce Demerara syrup (2 parts Demerara sugar to 1 part boiling water stirred until fully dissolved.)
3 dashes Peychaud’s Bitters (I usually add a dash of Angostura as well.)

Stir well over ice and strain into an absinthe-rinsed chilled rocks glass (prepare the glass by adding a few drops of Absinthe to the sides and swirling it around). Twist a peel of lemon on top and discard.

Old-Fashioned
Leave off the muddled marachino cherry for a more historically accurate, and more delicious, cocktail.

2 ounces rye whiskey (Some people prefer bourbon, I use Weller 107.)
¼ ounce Demerara syrup (See recipe above.)
3 dashes Angostura (I typically add a dash of orange bitters, and/or Dutch’s Bitters.)

Stir over ice and strain into an old-fashioned glass with a large ice cube. Garnish with a twist of lemon, orange or both.

Champagne Cocktail
This is an easy drink to serve to large parties. You can even leave out a selection of bitters, sugar cubes and bottles of bubbly on ice and let folks assemble as they like.

In a champagne flute, add:

1 sugar cube doused in bitters (Most classic brands will work.) Fill with chilled champagne. Garnish with a twist of lemon peel.

Queen’s Park Swizzle
This drink is the precursor to the Mojito, with plenty more depth and beauty.

To a collins glass, add:
2 ounces rum (Lemon Hart, or Appleton’s VX works fine)
½ ounce Demerara syrup (see recipe above)
½ ounce fresh lime juice
6-8 mint leaves

Add bit of crushed ice and swizzle all ingredients together with a swizzle stick. (If you don’t have a swizzle stick, hold the top of a bar spoon between your flat hands and rub them together making the spoon swirl in the glass — the idea is to agitate the mint to release its oils.)

Fill the glass with crushed ice and top with several dashes of Angostura (And feel free to substitute any type and combination here.)

Garnish with a smacked sprig of mint (lay it on your hand and slap it with the other hand) and a straw.

A well-made cocktail, Calyer Restaurant, Brooklyn.

MODERN COCKTAILS

Old Gold
Recipe by Sean Hoard of Clyde Common & Teardrop Lounge in Portland, Oregon.

1 ¼ ounces blanco tequila (Don Julio, Siete Lenguas)
¾ ounce dry vermouth (I prefer Dolin)
½ Cynar (An artichoke-based bitter liqueur from Italy
1 dash celery bitters
1 dash aromatic bitters (Like Angostura or Amargo Chuncho)

Stir over ice and strain into a chilled cocktail glass. Twist a peel of grapefruit on top and discard.

Way Forward
Recipe by Lydia Reissmueller of tenderBAR in Portland, Oregon.

2 ounces Amber Rum (Appleton’s VX, Mt. Gay Eclipse)
1 heaping bar spoon dark fruit preserves (like fig, blackberry or plum)
2 dashes Dutch’s Colonial Bitters
2 dashes Regan’s Orange Bitters

Stir well over ice until preserves are integrated, fine strain (with a tea strainer) into an ice-filled Old-Fashioned glass. Top with 1 ounce of your favorite amber ale (I like The Bruery’s Loakal Red). Garnish with a speared piece candied ginger.

A professional. Taken at Calyer Restaurant, Brooklyn.

Photos were taken at Calyer Restaurant. Special thanks to Virginia Brown & Jonathon Linaberry. Archival images were found by Michael Wojtas.

FURTHER READING
Camper English writes about everything cocktail. The Alcademics.
Watch Jamie Boudreau execute some mighty tasty cocktails. A bit cheesy, but worth it. Raising the Bar, Small Screen Network.
A blog to trust: Spirits and Cocktails
Imbibe Magazine, the best drinks publication in the country.

You may also like

• Cocktail Recipes: Punch Punches are originally from India (panch in Hindi), and were...
• Cocktail Recipes: Hot Toddies Before central heating and electricity, heating a cup of spirit...
• Cocktail Recipes: The Sour Sours are the taste of languid summer days: margaritas, daiquiris...