A NEW CLUSTER OF HERESIES
I’m working happily away on what will become my replacement cushion cover. I decided that rather than cutting shapes and then stitching them, it would be easier to stitch on a larger piece of reclaimed denim, and then cut it into haphazard shapes bearing the stitching later. The denim is particularly thick and heavy, which has posed some problems.
The traditional Japanese method of working this style of running stitch embroidery is to use a relatively long needle, stitch in hand without a frame or hoop, and pleat the fabric onto it, such that the visible stitches on the front are roughly twice as long as the gaps between them.
This type of stitching isn’t easy because the denim resists the tiny folds and scoops needed for evenly placed and correctly sized stitches. I’ve tried, and would probably “get it” on a different ground. Eventually I will do another project in this technique with proper materials, but for now this is what I am committed to, and my goal is more important than the way I get there.
So in the long tradition here at String, Here’s a run down of what I am supposed to be doing, or what would make this a truly traditionally produced piece, along with my confessed heresies.
Needles
I am not using traditional Japanese-made needles, specific to hand sewing, and especially Sashiko.
I have a long steel needle, sharp and stout enough to pierce the denim, with a small eye. I found a paper of five of them in a box of miscellaneous threads and notions I picked up at a yard sale. No name, brand or date is associated with them, and they are not quite uniform. The eyes are very smooth, but there’s a bit of variation on eye placement and point taper. It’s remotely possible they are antique and hand-made. I use another of these as my plunging needle because the small eye retains the loop of strong carpet thread I need to capture goldwork ends and pull them to the back. In any case, these needles are almost two inches long, certainly long enough and easy enough to maneuver for the technique. It’s the stiff denim that’s the problem.
Thread
I looked at various thread options. The threads marketed specific for Sashiko are imported and not exactly inexpensive. From what I gathered, they are unmercerized cotton, nicely twisted, and not as “hard finished” as commercial threads sold for crochet. So I went hunting.
I cast about and eventually ordered a big spool of weaving cotton from Webs. It’s their Valley Yarns “Valley Cotton 10/2.” It was a risky purchase because it’s a large quantity, but I happened to hit a weaving yarn sale. And if the stuff didn’t work for my cushion project, I would be happy to knit lace with it.
I’ve got roughly 4,200 yards. Plenty. On the right above is a comparison shot of some threads next to a metric ruler. Apologies for the lousy photography. From top to bottom we have
- Valley Cotton 10/2 – a two ply matte finish cottom
- Coats & Clarks Knit Cro Sheen – a four ply shiny finish yarn. Much rounder and heavier that the Valley Cotton.
- Standard DMC 6 ply cotton embroidery floss. I didn’t have white to hand, so this is yellow. Six two-ply strands. The Valley is equivalent to about four plies of the DMC.
- Long discontinued DMC 6 ply linen embroidery floss. This I did have in white. It’s a mite heavier than the cotton floss, and the Valley Cotton is equivalent to about 3 plies of this.
I’m pleased with the Valley Cotton’s usability, its proportion in relation to the stitch length I’m using, and it’s appearance against the denim. It also coordinates well with the remaining Haitian cotton upholstery fabric used on the parts of the chair I do not intend on recovering.
Pattern Sources and Preparation
I tried to use straight drafting – laying out the geometry and drawing directly on the fabric. I also tried printed paper designs, employing tracing paper and pouncing to move them from paper to the cloth. Neither was satisfactory. Then I stumbled across some commercially sold plastic templates, and decided to take the short-cut.
Stencils opened up another experimentation hole. What writing instrument to use with them. I tried all of the standard pens and pencils intended for fabric marking. Some were too crumbly to achieve the fine point needed to use the stencils. A highly regarded pen drew clear, with the ink “blooming” into visibility over a 15 minute period. That was better, but it was difficult to see when ink was poorly laid down and needed retracing, or what had and had not been marked. It was even more difficult to realign the stencil to do a repeating pattern because of the wait and imperfections due to poor ink flow. (In fact I haven’t succeeded doing that yet, but I am still trying).
I settled on an unorthodox inking approach AND a non-traditional marking method. I am using these easily found Crayola wash-out fine point markers with the stencils.
I am also marking on the back, stitching the piece from the back, with starts and terminations on that side, but taking care that the reverse when I am working (which is the public side) shows the longer stitch length as opposed to gap length. Running stitch is running stitch. If you are careful in working, either side can be manipulated to be the public display side. Even in this style where the public side is characterized by longer stitches than there are gaps between them. And that’s why the photo at the top of the page shows the public side of the denim leg I’m stitching, but you see the twill tape wrapped inside unit of my hoop.
Heresies
So to sum up – my heresies are:
- Using a hoop and not stitching in hand
- Stabbing vertically rather than pleating the fabric onto my needle
- Using weaving cotton instead of Sashiko thread
- Using some unidentified vintage needle instead of the recommended long sharps
- Using stencils instead of drafting out the designs by hand
- Stenciling on the BACK rather than the front of the piece
- Stitching from the back, with the reverse side of my work actually being the side on public display
I pause now so the traditionalists can catch their breath, take a sip of tea or coffee and revive themselves.
With luck all hyperventilation and shock have passed.
More unorthodoxy
To add another dimension of complication, I am also hoping to use Western linear stitching on this piece. I plan to use standard double running stitch, and some of the fills or strapwork patterns that are oh so familiar to anyone who has followed this blog. But there is no grid on this denim, and it’s not countable.
Again I am going to cheat, and stitch on the reverse. I am going to use my markers and this piece of plastic canvas to make a dot grid, and then use that dot grid to place my stitches. Double running is the same on front and back. If I stitch with care and make no skips, there should be no telltales in front to betray my working method.
Cheaters may never prosper, but on rare occasion a shortcut or labor-saving method is warranted.
BEGINNINGS – CHAIR RESCUE IN USED DENIM
Now that the spawn are off on their own, I have been able to claim one of their rooms as my office. I’m especially lucky, I know because I also have a room in the basement dedicated to sewing and crafts. But the upstairs room has the computer, my needlework library, and space to relax.
The office is the room with the hanging tambour carpet, and is largely furnished in mismatched Trash Panda style – a couple of purpose-purchases like my standing desk and an OttLight, plus items reclaimed from local everything-free groups, curbside abandonment, and opportunity shops/consignment/resale stores. These include two low end Arts & Crafts style cabinet bookcases, a barrel chair I’ve been hauling around with me since 1978, and the most recent addition, a reproduction Arts & Crafts reclining chair.
The barrel chair is in acceptable condition except for the horribly worn, stained and snagged cushion, and the little apron just below it. The recliner came as-is, without any cushions at all. Right now I have an old zabuton floor pillow and a couple of throws tossed on it to make it sit-able.
My next project is a massive multipart effort:
- Recover the barrel chair’s seat cushion recycled denim. The denim will be pieced crazy-quilt style with exposed seams. Some of the denim bits will sport sashiko stitching.
- Buy foam and create a thick, resilient seat cushion and backrest cushion for the recliner.
- Cover the recliner cushions with similar pieced and embroidered recycled denim.
- Figure out how to fig-leaf the wear on the barrel chair’s under-cushion apron, again from the used denim, but without embroidery.
To start, I’ve traced the existing cushion onto brown paper (a giant yard waste bag was sacrificed for this), and cut out patterns for the top and bottom. The sides are just a four inch strip wrapped around, so a pattern isn’t needed. I plan to sew random size/shape denim pieces onto the brown paper using my ancient Elna SU sewing machine, employing various wide stitches and exposed edge seams where denim patches overlap. Some of those pieces will be pre-embroidered by hand, taking advantage of some templates to lay out the traditional geometric patterns. And some might be stitched using waste canvas in double running designs. My whim will rule.
Once each of my brown paper mock-up patterns is completely covered with securely stitched denim, I will tear off the paper. The goal is to have the two sides, add a four inch strip running around the edge, winkle in a zipper on back edge, and then stuff the existing pillow, ratty cover and all inside. If necessary I will strip off the old cover and just use the inner foam (probably with a new inner cover I’d have to sew, too.)
I have lots of denim discards in the house, and can always find more if needed. The big cone of thread I’m using is from Webs – their 10/2 Valley Cotton, intended for weaving. Its a matte finish two ply, and coordinates well with the well-worn Haitian cotton of the barrel chair’s back and sides. The back and sides aren’t being touched in this partial re-do. I’m not worried that I’ll have a ton of thread left over. It’s also useful for lace knitting.
I’m using the stencils to mark the BACK of the denim, and am stitching on it upside down. It’s much easier to see the markings on the back, and I don’t have to worry about the marked lines showing.
Right now I’m attempting to stitch without a hoop, in the scooping style that’s traditional for sashiko, but we’ll see how long that lasts. Denim is thick and scooping those tiny bites evenly in a heavy ground with a needle sharp and sturdy enough to penetrate the denim and with a hole large enough for the thick thread is proving to be a challenge. I may end up using my sit-upon or hand-hoop and stabbing vertically as is my habit.
While I have built cushions from scratch and recovered simple upholstered cushion covers before, there’s a lot here that’s new to me. If you are an old hand at this type of upholstery repair, sashiko, quilting (especially crazy quilting), or repurposing denim and you have advice, please chime in. Your hints would be most welcome.
I expect to be working on the barrel chair through the spring and into summer. Building the cushions for the other chair should take me into fall. And covering the cushions for the second chair will probably fill my time up until mid 2025.
Am I daunted by this timeline? No. I’ll get it all done.
Eventually.
CHATELAINE RIBBON FINISH
A super-quick project for sure. Younger Spawn gave me a chatelaine with a little metal purse for the holiday. I quickly attached my existing tools, put a piece of beeswax in the purse, and set out to use it. But I found that the thing was a bit heavy, likely to injure standard t-shirts and blouses, and pinning it to the waistband of my jeans wasn’t a feasible solution. But it’s a tremendously handy thing.
Stash to the rescue!
I had a length of evenweave linen ribbon I bought at the old Sajou store during our April in Paris trip a few years ago. I’ve been saving it for the right application. This was it.
I cut a length, charted out a new design specific to its width, and set out to stitch it more or less double-sided (not entirely so, but close enough) to use as an award-style neck ribbon to which the chatelaine could be securely and safely pinned. I started stitching on it on 5 January. And in less than two weeks, I have my first 2024 finish.
This is it, upside down so that the signature in the center back reads in the correct orientation. Note that I’ve left the overlap area free from stitching. It’s actually four layers of the ribbon linen thick – the ends folded over each other and securely stitched down. On top of that I also reinforced the back to prevent it from snagging on shirt buttons, and to give the chatelaine pin even more to grab onto.
Yes, that’s the same bit of nylon jersey fabric I used last week for mending. (Waste not, want not.)
Here’s the whole thing with the very appropriate rose pin in place, neatly figleafing the bald point center front:
The extra fluffy pullover doesn’t make an attractive backdrop, but I plead the current cold snap. I’m comfy. And now armed for my next stitching battle!
UPDATE:
The doodle page for the pattern I used on the chatelaine is now available on the Patterns tab here at String. Click below and scroll down to the bottom of the page.
BUSY END TO THE YEAR
No doubt it has been a hectic end of year, what with the standard end of year activities plus the finish on the coif project, and the lightning trip to the UK to view the final exhibit. But that doesn’t mean that other things have languished.
First, because the holiday can’t happen without cookies, even if I am not around to make them all, I present our 2023 cookie plate. Some slimmed down to lower carb versions (with varying levels of success), and some expertly baked by Younger Spawn, whose oven-acumen now far exceeds my own. Luckily Spawn’s job is work-from-anywhere remote and allowed early arrival the week before Christmas. While we were in Sheffield we had a happy house-sitter, tree waterer, and master baker in residence. And said HHS/TW/MBIR had run of the place, its kitchen, library, and media without clumsy parents cluttering available time and space. A win all the way around.
Starting from around 11:00 and spiraling into the center we have:
- Brown butter chocolate chunk cookies. A specialty of Younger Offspring, with grated chocolate bits, chunks and dust instead of commercial chips. To die for.
- Low carb peanut butter cookies. After all sorts of failures trying customized Keto recipes I fell back on the old reliable Joy of Cooking one, but subbed in King Arthur Keto flour and monkfruit-based sweeteners. I have always used Teddy no-sugar peanut butter, too. A slightly stickier dough than usual because the KA Keto flour and it isn’t as absorbent as regular all purpose flour. A bit more oil release on the baking pan, but this time the cookies turned out pretty close to usual – not dry and crumbly, although I couldn’t get the cookie stamp I usually use to work well and fell back to the traditional fork-tine checkerboard. They were pronounced acceptable by my core audience.
- Earthquakes (our name for chocolate crinkles). Full octane. These were made by Younger Offspring, and are especially luscious this year because the batter became the receiving point for ganache left over from another recipe. Not to many fault lines in them this year, but oh so good.
- Mexican Wedding Cakes. Another old family favorite done perfectly by Younger Offspring. Lots of pecans in a buttery shortbread base.
- Lower carb Buffalo Bourbon Balls. This is a family recipe that usually starts with a box of Nilla wafers or other similar vanilla or chocolate flavor plain commercial cookies buzzed to fine crumbs. But commercial low carb cookies are hard to find and maddeningly expensive. So I improvised my own, making large blobby plain cocoa cookies using the Keto flour and fake sugar, plus butter and Dutch process cocoa. Then the next day I ground them up and made the usual, but rolled them in a mix of the cocoa and granulated fake sugar instead of the confectioner’s version of the same monkfruit sweetener. (I wanted to save the powdered stuff for other baking because it works better for most of it than the standard). I used agave syrup in place of corn syrup for these. Plus bourbon this year instead of rum, mostly because that was what we had on hand. These actually turned out to be the best lower-carb cookie I’ve made so far. I will have to do it again so I can write up the recipe because it’s worth sharing and replicating in the future.
- Jam thumbprints. Another winner from Younger Offspring, who has sneaky ways of setting the raspberry jam in the shortbread base so that it is a neat, non messy, intensely fruity bite.
- Slimmed down Oysters. A take on my own invention, using my usual recipe but subbing in the King Arthur Keto flour and monkfruit sweetener into the standard along with the usual avalanche of ground hazelnuts. Those were hard to come by this year, but luckily I had some in the freezer, left over from last year. I was very happy at how the batter worked with the cookie press. And these were a collaborative effort. I did the cookies, but Spawn did the ganache and filled the sandwiches. The ganache is full octane.
- Lemon macarons with lemon curd. All Younger Span, all the way. These are classic, intensely lemony, and lighter than air. An accomplishment far beyond me. Again, to die for.
- Lower carb triple gingers. Obviously the white chocolate chips in the cookies are not slimmed and there is minced candied ginger in there, but the rest of the cookie is my usual recipe, subbing in the low carb flour and sugars. I’m a bit disappointed in these because as a drop cookie they are supposed to spread. These didn’t, remaining the rocky shapes in which they were spooned onto the baking sheet.
- Lower carb chocolate chip with cocoa nibs. This is new this year. I started with a keto shortbread cookie recipe, and added keto chocolate chips, plus no-sugar cocoa nibs (left over from last year). The result is pleasing but also a bit disappointing. The texture and taste of the cookie part is too much like a store-bought Chips Ahoy. I had hoped for something more like a home-baked Tollhouse. But they are not too sweet (a common problem with keto baking because the fake sugars are more intense than their standard counterpart). Good enough, but not great.
- Unseen – a keto lemon cheesecake in place of our standard Panforte, which could not by any means known to man or woman, be slimmed down. In fact, if I went on a forced march through Middle Earth and could pick only one food substance to sustain me, the Panforte, packed with nuts, dried fruit, and carbs would be a space/weight efficient substitute for Lembas.
Obviously for cookies to happen we also had to hit Max Festivity. Again Younger Spawn leapt in and took over the orchestration of the tree, and deployment of the M&M Man Army:
And to round it out, presents were exchanged. I was well prepared with gift socks, mostly knit since I mailed the coif. This photo omits the two last pairs, along with a nifty folding basket that was a present last year, and has been adopted as my knitting bowl for sock production.
Not to brag, but I am delighted that my family knows me so well. Among the puzzles, wearables, and adornments they gave me this year, were stitching things: a quarter yard of 40 count cream linen, a sweet little tabletop caddy box for needles and pins (I will use it for needles and orts), a small cigarette box that is a perfect traveling needle and thread safe, and a chatelaine.
As you can see I’ve already put my favorite laying tool, fine needle threader, and scissors on the chatelaine. I put a slice of beeswax in that little snap purse.
The rose header for it has a sturdy pin on the back. But since I am usually found in T-shirts these days, the weight of the thing might be problematic. This gave me an excellent reason to go stash diving and retrieve a length of evenweave stitching ribbon that I bought at Sajou in Paris when we visited there about seven years ago. A quick trip to the computer to doodle up a new pattern for it, and I’m off and running. It will be an award-ribbon style around the neck piece, with a 90 degree angle in front where the ends overlap. The chatelaine will be pinned to that triple layer of sturdy linen, and the loop will go around my neck. Problem solved. Or it will be as soon as I’m done with the stitching and assembly.
THE UNSTITCHED COIF EXHIBIT
As promised, here’s a recap of the exhibit. It was an immersive whirlwind of talent, exuberance, and fun. I am very happy we were able to go. I just wish we had longer to chat with all the delightful, creative folk in attendance. But first, here’s a run-down of the displays. Note that while the Unstitched Coif was well represented, it isn’t the only project Toni Buckby is doing. More on those other efforts after the coifs…
The Unstitched Coif
I tried to take photos that showed the individual displayed pieces in situ, among their neighbors. The official website http://blackworkembroidery.org is hosting stitcher-provided blurbs and supplemental photos – the same info that is in the official exhibit book. This linked page indexes all of the stitchers alphabetically by first name. I provide the names of the stitchers for each photo below to save squinting. Pop over to that official site page for high-res closeups of any coifs that catch your eye.
First, the introductory material – a brief on the project, plus a sample of the pattern transcribed onto cloth (but not stitched) and made up into wearable configuration. If you open the poster photo in another window you may be able to zoom in enough to read the text.
And on to the coifs, in groups of three as displayed. There is an amazing variety of techniques, approaches, color interpretations, embellishments, and general artistic vision. The little QR codes on the name tags led to the stitcher’s personal submissions referenced above. Again, if you see something that you want to examine in lovely detail, go to this page and click on the stitcher’s name to read that material.
| Unstitched cloth Patricia Hill Susan Jones | Julia Hewgill Rebecca Cole-Coker Liz Duggan | Monique Tricot Vanesa Djibrilova Priyaguna Sundararajan Visalakshi |
| Tracy Fernie Caroline M. Swift Simone Smith | Elizabeth Connolly Ann Marie Howden Christine Harley | Rosamund Dickinson Eva Cantin Joanna Stachura |
| Angela Anderson Heather O’Connell Aine East | Barbara Jean Wright Julie Cavanagh Marion McCrindle | Elizabeth Dymond Holly Searle Margery Dickson |
| Jane Burnham Vicki Parsons Jen Cable | Anna Tagg Sue Critchley Becky Stewart | Louise Goult Jill Kipnis Sarah Capel |
| Catherine Hill Kim Brody Salazar Jen Best | Christine Hillman Jo Tyrrell Victoria Keech | Joanna Wilde Katie Rowlston Jill Huchital |
| Martha Hilton Janet Hunter Giuseppina Gloria Santoro | Holly Taylor Susan Morgan Leila Scott | Rita Masters Valerie Holmes Zara Kesterton |
| Emma Bent Kathryn Pike Vivienne Holmes | Charlotte Hollis Clare Saunders Judith Thursfield | Joyce Smith Linda Elizabeth Albin Amelia Brookins |
| M. Faye (Fred) Prior Lesley O’Malley Serena Watson | Isabelle Verny Mathieu Anna Vereker Fiona Johnston | Bridget Marrow Ann Fitzgerald Debbie Gonet |
| Duwenavue Sante Johnson Rebecca Harrison-Page Linda Hadden | Jan Hopkins Eileen Harrisson Susannah Lyon-Whaley | Long wall photo to round out the set. |
Coif Replication
As she describes it, Toni Buckby hit upon the idea for the Unstitched Coif project while working on a replication assignment for the Victoria and Albert Museum. They have many pieces of blackwork that are literally eating themselves to death – the tannic black dye used on the silk threads turns them brittle over time. Now, some 400-500 years after they were stitched they are crumbling, leaving only the holes in the ground behind. But these pieces are still sought after for research by visiting enthusiasts/scholars. Toni was commissioned to do a full stitch by stitch reproduction of V&A accession T.12-1948, a well known and popular (although rapidly disintegrating) piece. Her reconstruction is intended for use in educational and outreach efforts because the original is now to fragile to be handled for view.
Toni sourced modern materials as close as possible to those of the original (the 72/74 threads per inch ground is the same one recommended for use on the Unstitched Coif project). She used forensic investigation of the “fossil” piercings and older photos to work out the now crumbled fills and outlines that can no longer be seen on the artifact itself. Her repro is at right.
Other Forensic Analyses and Reproductions
Toni is mapping out another very famous bit of blackwork in the V&A’s collection – the Falkland Pillow Cover, Accession T.81.1924. (In coincidence, this is the piece whose tiny thumbnail photo in Mary Thomas’ Embroidery Book set me off on my own blackwork journey back in the early ’70s). She is using layered drafting methodology to posit the placement and patterning of sections that have now largely disappeared.
Toni is also in mid-project of an ambitious effort to map the patterns on the three dimensional Falkland Waistcoat , V&A Accession T.80-1924, also a victim of thread degradation, plus other distortions and alterations. The goal of this effort is to chart the 3D design and translate it into flat patterning on garment sections that can be replicated and reassembled into a full reproduction. As you can see, exploring the garment shape by modeling is already underway. (Again, click on the photos to open in a new window, so you can enlarge them to read the text).
There was much more to the exhibit – a series of photos and explanations on materials suitability and choice methodology, and samples of the stitches used. But I’ve gone on long enough.
Suffice it to say that it was total immersion in the subject matter that sings to me, surrounded by people who understand and appreciate the artistry, time, and technique it requires. I met so many people, so talented and so gracious, who took time to chat with me, share their insights, and to mutually giggle in joy of finding others of the like mind. I’ve learned a lot from this project both in my own stitching, and from each and every version displayed here. I am deeply indebted to Toni for pulling the community together, orchestrating the effort, inspiring us along the way, and pointing the way forward, beyond. I do hope that this stitched together fellowship persists, and joins forces on future efforts. I know my needle is sharp and ever ready.
REVISITING THE OYSTERS
This being cookie season it’s no wonder that this post is also about a family favorite, repeated year upon year since 2006 or so. This time, I attempted a slimmer version of our Oysters. That’s a hazelnut spritz sandwich cookie with a chocolate ganache filling – another sort-of invention of mine. The odd name came about the first year I did them. I didn’t grind the toasted hazelnuts fine enough, and bits of nut stuck in the dies of the cookie press. Lots of blobby, odd shapes resulted. We mated them as best we could. But the shapes and top/bottom format made the kids think of the shellfish, so the name stuck.
My original Oysters recipe is here.
Now there’s not much to be done to slim down the ganache – that’s just a strong bittersweet chocolate and cream, no sugar. Yes it has carbs, but a zero carb cookie is an asymptotic goal at best. Like the other cookies this week I subbed in the King Arthur Keto Wheat Flour for standard all purpose, and Swerve granulated (and powdered) sugar substitute for the white sugar. I generally use a bit less of the sugar sub than was called for in the unmodified recipe because I find the stuff to be sweeter than regular sugar. In addition, I ran out of granulated Swerve, and used a third of a cup of their confectioners’ substitute in place of that last half-cup of granulated.
And there was a small complication with the hazelnuts. They were locally unobtainable here this year, although had I known at the time I would have ordered on line from a specialty nut dealer. But fortuitously I did have enough leftover from last year and stowed in the freezer to do the recipe. I’ve used leftover nuts before and have not noticed any degradation in taste or performance, provided they are brought back to room temperature before toasting, chopping or otherwise using in the recipe being prepared.
Here are the hazelnuts after being rolled around and rubbed in a clean linen dishcloth. That flakes off lots of the brown inner membrane. While in an ideal world it would be totally removed, this amount is enough to avoid too many little brown flecks in the finished cookies, and to reduce the bitterness those membranes bring.
OK. So I made the batter. To get the right consistency I needed to add lots more cream than originally specified to achieve the peanut butter-like consistency. The dough needs to be just firm enough to pick up and pat into a log to insert into the cookie press, but still quite soft. Some years even with the “full octane” version I’ve had to add more than the recipe’s 6 tablespoons of milk or cream to get there. Perhaps the flour those years was drier than usual In any case, King Arthur does warn that recipes may require additional liquid to work properly with their Keto flour. I ended up using about 9.
I was very encouraged by the swift and easy cookie press action. One two-stop squeeze for each cookie, forming them fairly flew. Here they are unbaked.
Obviously I use one of the larger hole dies for the cookie press to avoid a repeat of “the oyster problem.”
On to actual baking. That’s where things began to be noticeably deviant from standard. Like the peanut butter cookies for this year and the two prior, these cookies sweated a lot of oil. I might have been able to reduce the shortening in them, but once a batter is mixed you can’t get it out again. They floated around on the surface of the silicon baking mat, in effect frying in that oil.
Here’s the last sheet with the stragglers. Admittedly I let that sheet go a minute or two longer than I should have – the cookies shouldn’t be that brown around the edges. And that odd man out is the last cookie – the traditional cook’s share – fashioned from the remaining bit in the cookie press that can’t make it through to true cookie form.
See those droplets on the mat? That’s fat exudate from the cookies. It’s hard to see but there’s a lake of it on the mat.
Still the cookies were cohesive and semi-attractive. Now, how did they taste?
Sadly, like the gingers, peanut butters, and chocolate chips, only a glimmer of their true selves. That ubiquitous cardboard-rye taste of the Keto flour overwhelmed the hazelnut flavor. They look ok, but to me at least they are yet another disappointment. Obviously the chocolate ganache will punch them up a bit, but that won’t happen until next week. I am delegating filling these to Younger Spawn, whose baking expertise is far in advance of mine. It’s best not to fill these too early because they do change texture as moisture from the ganache seeps into the spritz cookie.
I’m done with the slimmed portion of the cookie parade. That’s three years in a row I’ve attempted to make a less sinful cookie, and three years I’ve not been satisfied. I am afraid the answer may be not trying to re-engineer the cookie. It may be just to not make them anymore. This may well be the last year for ten types of cookies. Especially considering that the Keto flour and sugar substitute are four times as expensive as regular ingredients. Perhaps next year I will go full octane, making the originals but only as half- or quarter-batches of five types, and no longer share the largesse.
A SLIMMED DOWN GINGER
No, I’m not going to write about a red-haired friend embarking on a diet and exercise program. This is one of the holiday baking posts that intrudes on the otherwise fiber-filled menu here at String each December.
Back in 2018 I mashed together several thoughts and came up with another more or less original cookie – the Triple Ginger White Chocolate Chip. I posted the recipe for it in 2019 after two full and successful holiday cookie test runs.
The dough for it is of the same basic type as a chocolate chip cookie, perhaps a bit lighter on the brown sugar, with added cream for more richness, and three types of ginger – dry ground ginger, minced candied ginger, and ginger juice – to give it kick. As I had done them before they were delightfully sharp and gingery, lighter than gingerbread, with the white “chocolate” morsels acting sort of like internal frosting, bringing little bursts of sweetness. They quickly became a family favorite, and I’ve done them every year since.
This year, the third year I’ve been attempting to bake at least some of the cookies in lower-carb incarnations of their former selves, I tried to reduce the caloric load of this cookie. I had dismal results in previous years using various mixes of almond and coconut flour for other cookies. A few were absolute failures, but I was encouraged this year by the introduction of King Arthur Keto Flour. I haven’t used it for bread, roti, or tortillas yet, but that may eventually happen. I have tried the recipes they posted for it on their website, for pie crust and chocolate chip cookies. Neither was good enough to post links for them. I also used various Swerve brand monkfruit based non-sugar sweeteners.
The Keto flour and the Swerve granulated, brown and confectioners sugars all claim to be near analogs in baking – in theory they can be subbed one-to-one for conventional products. In practical use, not really. More like “kinda” and “maybe.” To start with I find the Swerve products are sweeter than regular sugars. And the King Arthur Keto flour isn’t as hydrophilic as normal wheat flour (it doesn’t suck up as much moisture or fat). It also browns faster, but doesn’t leap from raw to burnt the way almond and coconut flours do. In fact, it does ok for dusting and pan frying – something the other flours totally fail.
As a result I tend to tinker with conventional recipes when subbing in these products. I will scant the quantities of the fake sugars by a tablespoon or two, and tinker with the liquid and fat levels when I use the fake flour to avoid a sticky, greasy dough.
Here is the cookie dough for the Triple Gingers this year, with amendments. I used my original but I left out a tablespoon of brown fake sugar and two of the white fake sugar, and added an extra tablespoon of cream:
It looks pretty normal, although the dough isn’t “sticking” to the chips like it usually does. But I continued on. I always fridge this type of dough overnight before portioning it out and baking it.
I did the usual – scooping using my 2.5 TBS dough scoop (like a little ice-cream scoop), then dividing the lump in half and rolling it into two balls. We like small cookies at holiday time because there are 10 types on the plate. Little cookies let folks sample without being overwhelmed.
Usually what happens with these drop cookie doughs is that if I make a generally round-ish ball, it melts during baking to yield a flatter nicely circular cookie. Here’s a picture of the Triple Gingers from a previous year to illustrate:
And here are this year’s. But not even the first most lumpy batch. That set went into the oven and then emerged in exactly the same shape – misshapen balls. No melting, no spreading. So when I made the second batch I flattened them with the heel of my hand. Again, no melting, no spreading. They may be blobs, but at least they are somewhat cookie shaped. Second and third batches seen before (left) and after baking (right):
Not my most attractive product, for sure. To be fair, I did notice that the King Arthur Keto chocolate chip recipe didn’t make spreading cookies either, but I thought that was because I did something wrong. Those also just didn’t taste right. Kind of like I had used rye flour and cardboard by mistake, and with the texture of a store-bought packaged cookie, and not a comforting home-made one.
Back to the Gingers… How did they taste? I sampled (of course). While they are ok, they are not as they should be. They don’t have the cardboard/rye flavor I didn’t like in the chocolate chip cookies, which is good. But they don’t have the ginger punch of my original recipe, and I suspect they will get hard quickly. They are sweet, with a pleasant caramel note, but that note reduces the ginger to an afterthought. Ugly and disappointing as they are, they are still serve-able, and will take their place in this year’s cookie line up. But obviously more tinkering is warranted. Between the differential take-up of the butter by the flour, and the performance of the fake sugar, successful adaptation will take a lot more than just dumping more ginger into this recipe.
And as a last note – remember I said that the dough didn’t hold onto the chips? I had to jam them in, which is why so many are on the surface. When I was done forming the cookies I had a puddle of extras left behind. I’ve never seen that happen before with any type of morsel-bearing cookie.
And I think I should get a medal for not snacking on them as I finished the bake.
A SPANISH GENTLEMAN AND HIS COLLAR
Once again discussions on Facebook have brought a portrait to my attention. Elspeth over at Elizabethan Costume has found something I’ve been seeking for a long time. An portrait of an individual with a Spanish name, with a sitter that is wearing what we would describe as blackwork.
While 19th and 20th century discussions of blackwork in the Tudor period often call it Spanish Blackwork, and offer “Spanish Stitch” as another name for double running. But there are very few portraits of Iberian individuals wearing it, as one might think there would be if the folk attribution of Catherine of Aragon’s introduction of a style already popular in her homeland was to be corroborated. This portrait, dated 1530-1532 is by Jan Gossaert, and is part of the J. Paul Getty Museum’s collection, accession 88.PB.43. It depicts Francisco de los Cobos y Molina, who served in Charles V’s Holy Roman Empire court as a trusted secretary and advisor. The Morgan Library and Museum notes the absolute identification of the sitter. Note that shortly after this was painted, Catherine far away in her English court was only a year away from Henry’s declaration that their marriage was invalid (1533) and her subsequent sequestration.
There are higher resolution pictures at the museum link, above.
To say thank you to Elspeth and to spread my joy in finding a heretofore unknown bit of delight, I share a graph for that collar.
Click here for a full size downloadable PDF of the pattern below.
Now. How “authentic” is my representation?
I’d say it’s no more than an honest representation. Remember that the original I am working from is a painting. The painter did his best to capture the alignment of the verticals with the horizontal interfaces, but he fudged almost all of them. What I’ve done is to show the design elements in as close to the original proportions as I could manage, with the correct number of “pips” inside the boxes formed by the repeat, and represent as well as I could the marching row of them more or less evenly spaced across the top edge of the collar band. Like the painter, I have fudged the geometry of the thing to make it fit. And of course the nature of those pips is open to interpretation. Little hoof-like triangles? A three pronged fork, bent to one side? Should the ones in the square be closer to each other than I show? Should the middle one of each box side be taller? All of these would be as valid as what I show. After all, a tiny blob of paint can be seen in many ways.
I will be adding this pattern to the Embroidery Patterns page here at String, so it can be easily found in the future. If you choose to try out this design, please feel free to share a photo. I do so enjoy seeing what mischief these doodles attempt out there in the wide, wide world.
MORE ON THE UNSTITCHED COIF EXHIBIT
It’s coming! Here is the official flyer.
The stitching on the flyer is by Toni Buckby, the Unstitched Coif Project’s Fearless Leader. The original she reproduced under the auspices of the V&A is in their collection, It’s rather well known, made between 1570 and 1599 (Accession T.12-1948), but is rapidly deteriorating because the dye used on the black silk continues to eat away at the fiber. The thing is extremely fragile these days, with the stitching crumbling, leaving only needle holes behind. As a result, the museum commissioned a stitch-perfect duplicate for educational outreach, to limit handling of the now endangered original artifact. Toni undertook this assignment, performing forensic analysis of the damaged bits, and examining old photos to puzzle out missing patterns, then sourcing materials and employing methods as close as possible to those used in the 1500s. Toni says that the reproduction informed the Unstitched Coif project concept and planning. The linen sourced for that is the same 72×74 count recommended for Coif participants.
In addition to the gallery exhibit Toni plans to update the Coif project’s official website with photos of all 130 submitted pieces. Each one is a different interpretation of the same drawn outline. Some are monochrome, some are multicolor; some include counted fillings, others use freehand fillings; some are surface embroidery of other styles; a few sport beads, paint, or other inclusions. The website has already been updated with a suite of downloads of the drawn outlines, prepared for several paper sizes. Toni is also exploring the possibility of a printed book, with photos and accompanying blurbs for each coif, as supplied by its stitcher. I do not know if the book will be a limited circulation run or if additional copies will be available for non-participants to buy.
I am looking forward to seeing the exhibit in person. I will be flying to the UK from Boston, to be at the opening event and at a private reception for participants later in the week. I will be taking a lot of photos of the coifs plus other exhibits in situ. If you are among the overseas participants who won’t be able to attend, and you want to see how your piece is displayed, please message me. If I know what to look for (a photo would help), I will try to find your coif and take a picture of it as it hangs in context with its neighbors.
UP CLOSE AND PERSONAL!
Yesterday a friend and I went to the Boston Museum of Fine Arts, in specific to see the “Strong Women in Renaissance Italy” exhibit. We also took in “Fashioned by Sargent”, and wandered at will and whim through other halls, especially those in the new wing. All in all, it was a splendid day out, full of fascinating things to see and discuss, in excellent company. This post focuses on the Strong Women exhibit. I enjoyed the Sargent exhibit, too, but I took fewer photos. If my friend has more than I do, I might do a follow on about it though.
My main motivating reason to go was that the Renaissance exhibit included an artifact I’ve written about before. On loan from the Jewish Museum in New York is Honorata Foa’s red countwork Torah binder. Here is a photo I took at the MFA, of a bit that’s folded under in the official Jewish Museum photo linked above.
And an ultra-closeup. Note that the work is stitched over a grid of 3×3 threads.
Compare the original to my rendition, stitched on a big-as-logs, known thread count of 32 threads per inch, over 2×2 – 16 stitches per inch. Yes, I brought it with me, and photographed it held up to the glass display case.
Given the difference in scale of the two, and allowing for the inch or so of distance between them, a rough eyeball estimate is that the ground for the Foa original is about the equivalent of the 72-ish count linen we all used for the Unstitched Coif project. I also think that the weave on the Foa original is ever so slightly more compressed east-west than it is north-south. making the diagonals a tiny bit more upright than they are on my version. Fascinating stuff!
Now that I see the structure, scale and alignment of the Hebrew letters, I am beginning to think that they were written out and then over stitched, conforming as much as possible to the 3 over 3 rubric, as opposed to the regular countwork of the foliate strapwork above them. For one, they don’t inhabit the same baseline. And they do seem to employ improvised angles and variant stitch lengths, although they were clearly done by someone with a skilled hand who took pains to keep stitch length as uniform as possible over those variant angles. Even so, I may be able to improvise a full alphabet of them, adapting the missing letters from the forms of those that are displayed and known. Another to-do for my ever-growing list…
The Foa Torah Binder was not the only fascinating bit of needlework or textiles on display. On the non-stitched side, there were two long lengths of sumptuous silk velvet brocade, one with a manipulated texture (possibly stamped to create highlights and shadows). What struck me the most was the scale of the patterns. The pomegranate like flower units were as big as turkey platters – far larger even than the legendary motif on the front and center of the famous Eleanor of Toledo portrait:
The red one on the left was credited as “Length of Velvet”, from Florence, circa 1450-1500. MFA accession 31.140. The helping hand for scale was provided by my friend. The one of the right is “Length of Velvet”, possibly from Venice, 15th century. MFA accession 58.22. The photo at the museum link is closer to the color (the gallery was dark) and shows off the highlights and shadows impressed into the velvet. Those aren’t two colors, they are the product of some sort of manipulation of the nap. It’s not shorter in the lighter sections, it looks like it’s all the same length, but some just catches the light differently, which is what made me think that it might have been heat/water manipulated with carved blocks. But that’s just the idle speculation of someone who knows nothing about fabric manipulation techniques.
There was another counted piece. It can be difficult to judge the size of these from on line museum photo collections. Even when the dimensions are given, sometimes it just doesn’t input.
Photo above shamelessly borrowed from the museum page, where they describe it as a towel. The object’s name is a purported description of the stitches used. Punto Scritto and Punto a Spina Pesce MFA Accession 83.242, Italian, 16th century. Towel size? Nope. Tablecloth to seat 8 size. Wow.
Here are my photos.
Punto Scritto is another name for double running stitch. That’s ok. Punto a Spina Pesce has been used by the museum to describe some but not all Italian works featuring a variant long armed cross stitch. I think I can see that in the solid, heavier green and yellow lines.
Without having seen the backs, which would clarify this, I suspect that Punto a Spina Pesce (fishbone stitch), is the version of long armed cross stitch that is done by taking stitches with the needle parallel to the direction of stitching as one moves down the row, rather than the one where the needle is held vertically as one works. While the front of both is almost identical, the appearance of the reverse differs, with the horizontal-needle one being formed similar to the way stitches in herringbone are worked. The horizontal method leaves long parallel traces that align with the row-like appearance of the front. If multiple rows are worked this way, there are raised welts in all but the first and last row because the thread on the back is double layered as each consecutive row is added. In the latter there are also parallel lines on the back, but they are perpendicular to the direction of the stitching and overlapping threads on the back are also vertical. As to which one is “correct” – both seem to exist in the folk tradition, so pop some popcorn and sit back to watch the proponents of each fight it out.
A third technique is used. The colored buds are filled in using what I call “Meshy” – the drawn work stitch based on double sided boxed cross stitch that totally covers the ground, and is pulled tightly enough to look like a mesh net of squares. That’s most often employed as a ground stitch in voided work, but it is not uncommon in foreground use, as well. This one is on my charting list, too.
One last thought on this piece – it reminds me a bit of a strip I charted and stitched up a while back, as part of my big blackwork sampler. The source for that one is here, Metropolitan Museum of Art, Accession 79.1.13, Strip, Italian, 16th century but the photo below is of my work.
There were more stitched pieces in the room, but the only other charted one was this adorable chubby unicorn piece in drawn thread. It’s tons of fun to stumble across things I’ve got in my research notes, but never seen in person. This one is MFA’s “Lace”, 16th century Italian, Accession 43.237. Long shot below borrowed from their site.
The museum chose to display this one scrolled, like they did the Torah Binder, so that only a portion was visible. Here are my three shots, left, right, and center.
Yes, there are many ways to achieve this look. But squinting closely one can see that no threads were picked from the work as in withdrawn thread work. There are neat little bundles of three threads where the solid areas meet the mesh ground. (Easier to see in the flesh than in my photo though).
It’s clear that this piece was cut from a larger cloth. I wouldn’t be surprised to find another fragment of it in another museum collection someday. That’s not uncommon. But for now, chubby unicorns, their big quaternary star and attendant scrawny vegetation are also on my to-chart list. But I am curious about the ornament above them.
Now there were lots of other items on display in this exhibit, most of which I’ve seen in the BMFA’s on line photo collection – other stitchery, several modelbooks (all open to needle lace pages), lots of ceramics, and many paintings. Some of which from the “back stacks” – items not on usual display. It was grand to see them out and being admired. I admit I did not download the guided tour and didn’t buy the accompanying $45 book, but while there were lots of women depicted in these massed works, there were very few historical individuals described or shown.
I was hoping to learn more about (for example) what individual female members of the Italian mercantile nobility actually did, beyond being married for political alliances. There were a few portraits, but not much of the story behind the sitters’ identities (if known at all) was presented in the in-room captions. There was a smattering of works by female artists, but the majority of pieces were by men, depicting saints, virtues, and ideals – laudable and arguably strong, but not the personal presence I had hoped for. All in all it was a lovely exhibit, with tons of pieces that were interesting in and of themselves, but as an exhibit showing the power and reach of Renaissance Italian women, it came off more as an assemblage of things from their time, rather than a documentation of their lives, ambitions, and accomplishments.
String-Or-Nothing 