Chicken a l’Orange

Wickham Place is the London home of Lord and Lady Southgate, their children and staff. Located in fashionable Belgravia it is a fine Georgian terrace house.

 

Today we are below stairs in the Wickham Place kitchen which is usually a place of happiness and harmony, but today Mrs. Bradley, known by most downstairs staff as Cook, is in a foul mood as she bangs her copper pots about on the kitchen range with a violence not often seen.

 

In the corridor outside the kitchen, Mr. Withers the Butler catches a couple of the Wickham Place housemaids skulking about doing nothing.

 

“What are you doing standing about here, cluttering the area?” he demands of them.

 

“We’re on a break, Mr. Withers, sir.” replies Sara unapologetically.

 

“Then why aren’t you in the servant’s hall, girl?” he asks sharply.

 

“Can’t get there, sir.” Sara replies with a shrug of her shoulders.

 

“Don’t be insolent girl!” Mr. Withers snaps. “What rubbish! Of course you can! It’s just on the other side of the kitchen.”

 

“I’m not game to go in there. Are you Tilly?” Sara asks her fellow housemaid.

 

“Not me, Sara!” she replies, shaking her head and putting up both her hands defensively.

 

It’s then that Mr. Withers hears for the first time the crash of metal against metal as pots and pans are bashed about with what appears to be some vehemence. Occasionally over the clattering noise, he thinks he hears the sob of a girl.

 

“Cook’s in a foul mood,” Tilly continues. “And we’ll not go in there, sir. Not for love, nor money!”

 

Sara nods in agreement.

 

“We’ll soon see about this.” Mr. Withers replies as he steels himself and marches through the kitchen door.

 

Cook is standing with her back to the room as she stirs something violently in a pot on the great black kitchen range, banging her wooden spoon angrily on its lip. Sitting as far from Cook as she can, Agnes the scullery maid is weeping over some big Seville oranges as she cuts them into thin slivers with a knife.

 

“Agnes.” Mr. Withers says when he sees her tears. “Whatever is wrong?”

 

“Oh,” she sobs. “Mrs. Bradley’s in a foul mood, and she set me to juicing and slicing oranges, and the juice is stinging my hands.” She holds out her careworn hands, the juice covering them and seeping into the cracks in the skin on her palms and fingers.

 

“Got time to gab have you, you ungrateful good-for-nothing?” Mrs. Bradly spins around with her hands on her hips, her ordinarily cheerful face as black as thunder as she glares at Agnes.

 

“Oh! Oh, I only meant…” but the words catch in her throat as Cook’s eyebrows arch ever so slightly higher over her angry eyes. “No, Mrs. Bradley.” She busies herself, head down, continuing to slice the oranges into thin slivers.

 

“Now! Now! What’s this Mrs. Bradley?” Mr. Withers asks. “This isn’t like you: upsetting a poor girl and banging the pots so loudly the Master and Mistress can hear you upstairs.”

 

“And a good thing too if Her High-and-Mightiness does hear me!”

 

“Mrs. Bradley!” Mr. Withers looks shocked.

 

“Well, here I am happily preparing the six course French dinner for His Lordship’s guests this evening when she summons me. ‘Just a small change, Cook’, she says all sweetness and light. ‘You’ll have to change the main course. Lord What’s-His-Face doesn’t eat red meat, but I’m sure you’ll come up with a suitable alternative in its place at such short notice. That will be all.’ And she dismisses me with a wave of her lily-white hand!”

 

“Well, you’re resourceful, Mrs. Bradley.”

 

“Have you looked at the time, Mr. Withers? His Lordship’s guests will be here in two hours, and I’ve been cooking bœuf à la Bourguignonne all afternoon!” She turns and opens the oven door and pulls out something from within its confines. “So we’ll be eating like kings for servant’s dinner shortly, and tonight they will be having chicken a l’orange instead!” She slams a partially cooked chicken on a tray on the deal table. “If I’d wanted to be a short-order cook, Mr. Withers, I’d have worked at the Café Royal! I’ve a right mind to hand in my notice!” She snatches up the jug of orange juice from in front of her, sloshing some on the table in her anger, and starts pouring it over the chicken.

 

“You aren’t going to though, are you Mrs. Bradley?” Mr. Withers asks with a worried look on his pale face.

 

“No, Mr. Withers. I’ve got too much respect for His Lordship than to walk out,” she assures him. “But her!” She raises her wooden spoon to the ceiling above her and shakes it.

 

“Shall I put the orange silvers on the chicken now, Mrs. Bradley?” Agnes asks meekly.

 

“Of course girl! I didn’t put it there for you to stare at! Get on with it, quick sticks, or His Lordship will be served a half cooked, inedible chicken, and you’ll be to blame!”

 

“Yes Mrs. Bradley!”

 

The Wickham Place kitchens are situated on the ground floor of Wickham Place, adjoining the Butler’s Pantry. It is dominated by big black leaded range, and next to it stands a heavy dark wood dresser that has been there for as long as anyone can remember. There is a white enamelled sink to one side with deep cupboards to house the necessary cleaning agents the scullery maid needs to keep the kitchen clean for the cook. In the middle of the kitchen stands Cook’s preserve, the pine deal table on which she does most of her preparation for both the meals served to the family upstairs and those for the downstairs staff.

 

This year the FFF+ Group have decided to have a weekly challenge called “Snap Happy”. A different theme chosen by a member of the group each week, and the image is to be posted on the Monday of the week.

 

This week the theme, “fruit” was chosen by Gary, Gazman_AU. This tableaux is made up of part of my 1:12 size dollhouse miniatures collection. Some pieces come from my own childhood like the ladderback chair in the background. Other items I acquired as an adult through specialist online dealers and artists who specialise in 1:12 miniatures.

 

Fun things to look for in this tableaux include:

 

On Cook’s deal table, the Seville oranges, the orange slices, and the roast chicken all 1:12 artisan miniatures with amazing attention to detail. All three come from Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering, England. The orange slices are so small and so fine. They are cut from long canes like some boiled sweets are but are much smaller in size!

 

Also, from Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering is the jug of orange juice which is also a 1:12 artisan miniature. The jug is made of very fine glass, and is half filled with glossy resin that looks exactly like orange juice.

 

Opposite the jug of orange juice is a Cornishware white and blue cannister. Cornishware is a striped kitchenware brand trademarked to and manufactured by T.G. Green & Co Ltd. Originally introduced in the 1920s and manufactured in Church Gresley, Derbyshire, it was a huge success for the company and in the succeeding 30 years it was exported around the world. The company ceased production in June 2007 when the factory closed under the ownership of parent company, The Tableshop Group. The range was revived in 2009 after T.G. Green was bought by a trio of British investors.

 

Behind the roast chicken is a jar of Gale’s Honey and a jar of Golden Shred Orange Marmalade. Gale’s Honey has been in existence as a brand in England since the early 1900s, and it still exists to this day. Golden Shred orange marmalade too still exists today and is a common household brand both in Britain and Australia. It is produced by Robertson’s. Robertson\'s Golden Shred recipe perfected since 1874 is a clear and tangy orange marmalade, which according to their modern day jars is “perfect for Paddington’s marmalade sandwiches”. Robertson\'s marmalade dates back to 1874 when Mrs. Robertson started making marmalade in the family grocery shop in Paisley, Scotland.

 

The sink in the background is littered with interesting items. On the left stands an old fashioned draining board which could be removed so that the space could then be used for other purposes. It is stacked with copper pots and a blue pottery mixing bowl. Near the taps is a box of Sunlight soap and a can of Vim, both cleaning essentials in any Edwardian household. Vim scouring powder was created by William Hesketh Lever (1st Viscount Leverhulme) and introduced to the market in 1904. It was produced at Port Sunlight in Wirrel, Merseyside, a model village built by Lever Brothers for the workers of their factories which produced the popular soap brands Lux, Lifebuoy and Sunlight. Sunlight Soap was first introduced in 1884.

 

The ladderback chair I have had since I was around eight years old.

 

To the left of the sink is the food safe with a birchwood broom leaning against it. In the days before refrigeration, or when refrigeration was expensive, perishable foods such as meat, butter, milk and eggs were kept in a food safe. Winter was easier than summer to keep food fresh and butter coolers and shallow bowls of cold water were early ways to keep things like milk and butter cool. A food safe was a wooden cupboard with doors and sides open to the air apart from a covering of fine galvinised wire mesh. This allowed the air to circulate while keeping insects out. There was usually an upper and a lower compartment, normally lined with what was known as American cloth, a fabric with a glazed or varnished wipe-clean surface. Refrigerators, like washing machines were American inventions and were not commonplace in even wealthy upper-class households until well after the Second World War.

Done