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CROWN, 2003
(available in paperback from Vintage, 2004)
IN 1890, CHICAGO was named the site of the 1893 World’s Fair. Although Chicagoans rejoiced, many around the country met the news with derision and outright contempt. Some, especially many in New York, privately hoped Chicago would fail. New York had campaigned hard to win the fair, and many of its cultural and political leaders thought Chicago unworthy and perhaps unable to stage an event, so important to the nation, that would surpass the spectacularly successful Paris Exposition Universelle of 1878.
Chicago threw its civic pride into the preparation for the fair. As officials coordinating construction efforts encountered one seemingly insurmountable obstacle after another, including fire, mud, inclement weather, and labor shortages, completing the fairgrounds became a race against time.
The hero of what was officially known as the World’s Columbian Exposition was a brilliant and single-minded architect, Daniel Hudson Burnham, who was responsible for converting Jackson Park, a muddy lakeside tract, into the dazzling fairgrounds that came to be known as the White City. The world’s first Ferris wheel soared 264 feet into the sky, attracting thousands of riders daily. Foreigners and exotic creatures from around the world populated the pavilions of the thirteen-block Avenue of Nations.
With its enormous whitewashed pavilions illuminated at night in a fanciful landscape created by the legendary Frederick Law Olmsted, the White City was both the realization of a vision and a magnificent creation.
On the fair’s periphery, however, a darker, more sinister vision was being realized, this one by a dashing and charming young physician, Henry H. Holmes. Just west of the fairgrounds, Holmes built the World’s Fair Hotel to attract visitors expected for the Columbian Exposition. But Holmes, a brilliant and articulate sociopath, had built no ordinary hotel. His hotel contained a dissection table, a gas chamber, and a crematorium that could reach temperatures of 3,000 degrees. In this private torture chamber, many hotel guests, including vulnerable young women taken with the young doctor’s charms, met their end.
Erik Larson’s The Devil in the White City juxtaposes these stories of light and darkness and creation and destruction in a nonfiction narrative that is alternately uplifting and deeply disturbing, inspiring and haunting.
After Chicago was chosen to host the World’s Fair, it began a process of self-improvement to show the world that Chicago was a world-class city. When Ward McAllister, general servant to Mrs. William Astor, doyenne of New York high society, suggested in a column to the New York Post that Chicagoans improve their cuisine by hiring more French chefs, residents of “the second city” collectively cringed. Ward’s advice was derided in the Chicago press, but it nevertheless struck a nerve among Chicagoans, who feared that their cuisine might cast them as second-class.
As he set about preparing for the World’s Fair, Burnham acutely felt his city’s insecurity. Not surprisingly, in January 1891, when trying to lure five nationally known architects to the project, Burnham hosted a dinner of fine French cuisine. The menu, including oysters, consommé of green turtle, filet mignon, and kirsch sorbet, was clearly intended to signal to the architects that Chicago was a city of sophistication and class, fully capable of hosting a grand World’s Fair. In March 1893, Burnham himself was fêted with French food—pâté, striped bass with hollandaise sauce, veal cutlets, petits fours—in honor of his accomplishments. French food represented the pinnacle of fine dining in late-nineteenth-century Chicago, and some in the city were eager to embrace it.
Once under way, the fair introduced Americans to new foods, both foreign and American. Visitors to the fair sampled “ostrich” omelets (made from chicken eggs) or stopped by the Java Lunch Room for pure Java coffee. New food products, including Aunt Jemima’s pancake mix, Juicy Fruit gum, Cracker Jack, and Shredded Wheat, were introduced to the public for the first time at the fair. For decoration, a Venus de Milo sculpted out of chocolate and a 22,000-pound cheese, on display at the Wisconsin Pavilion, graced the fairgrounds. And the official menu of the Midway ball, bringing senior officers of the fair and exotic foreigners together, included jerked buffalo, boiled camel humps, monkey stew, and fricassee of reindeer. Foods novel and exotic awaited visitors to the White City.
When we asked Erik Larson about foods important to The Devil in the White City, he pointed to the foods that sustained him while he was writing the book.
When I travel, I try to create little rituals in what I suppose is an effort to replicate the comforting routines of home. I select one or two restaurants, and haunt them. I go for dinner fairly early, circa 5:30, to avoid crowds. In Chicago, I chose Shaw’s, a restaurant I’d first encountered while on a magazine assignment in the late 1980s. This time around my dinners at Shaw’s were shamelessly repetitive: a Wild Turkey Manhattan, one dozen fresh oysters (a different variety each night), and a bowl of lobster bisque, with a plate of bread to soak up every last drop—of the bisque, that is. It made a perfect meal. Not too heavy for steamy summer evenings, but plenty warm for frigid January nights.
Located at 21 East Hubbard Street in River North, just north of downtown Chicago, Shaw’s Crab House and Blue Crab Lounge specializes in fresh seafood, including crab, lobster, shrimp, and a half dozen varieties of fresh oysters. Shaw’s Crab House is a dressy restaurant, but Erik Larson frequented the more casual, exposed-brick bar, the Blue Crab Lounge.
Chef William Eudy generously contributed the restaurant’s recipe for luscious lobster bisque. Eudy’s recipe makes enough for upward of one hundred people, so we reduced it to serve a book club–sized group of 8–10.
Don’t forget the crusty bread to soak up the last drops, as Larson suggests.
NOTE: Lobster base is a thick, concentrated paste that gives the bisque a full-bodied flavor. Shaw’s uses a lobster base made by J. L. Minor, which is available to home cooks. You can order it online or simply substitute salt to taste as the recipe indicates.
Call local fish stores to ask for lobster bodies and shrimp shells.
For the lobster stock
|
2 pounds lobster bodies (see note) 1 pound shrimp shells (see note) 1 medium yellow onion, roughly chopped 1–2 stalks celery, roughly chopped 1–2 stalks fennel, roughly chopped |
2–3 sprigs Italian parsley 1 sprig fresh thyme 1–2 bay leaves
4 tablespoons tomato paste |
|
1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter 2 carrots, diced 4 stalks celery, diced 2 small yellow onions, chopped 3 cloves garlic, peeled and minced 1¼ teaspoons dried tarragon ¾ teaspoon whole fennel seed ½ teaspoon ground black pepper ½ teaspoon cayenne pepper |
¾ teaspoon dried thyme ¾ teaspoon dried oregano ¾ teaspoon dried basil 1¾ cups all-purpose flour 1 cup tomato paste 2½ tablespoons lobster base (see note) or salt to taste 2½ tablespoons brandy Salt and pepper 2 cups heavy cream |
To make the lobster stock: Rinse the lobster bodies and shrimp shells in cold water. Place in a large pot with cold water to cover.
Add the remaining ingredients. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat and simmer, covered, for 3 hours. Skim off any film from the surface while cooking.
Remove from heat. Skim off any fat from the surface and strain, discarding solids. You should have about 4 quarts of stock. (If you have more, reserve the extra for another use.) Set aside.
To make the lobster bisque base: Melt the butter in a large pot or Dutch oven over medium-high heat. Add the carrots, celery, onions, and garlic and stir. Add the tarragon, fennel seed, black and cayenne peppers, thyme, oregano, and basil. Sauté over medium-low heat until vegetables are soft, approximately 30 minutes.
Add the flour, stirring to incorporate with the butter, and cook for approximately 4 minutes.
Add the lobster stock, tomato paste, and lobster base. Combine thoroughly with a whisk. Bring to a boil and allow to reduce by ¼.
Purée using a hand blender, blender, or food processor. Strain.
Add the brandy and season to taste with salt and pepper.
In a large pot, combine 4 quarts of the lobster bisque base with the heavy cream. (If the quantity of base is more or less than 4 quarts, adjust the amount of cream accordingly.) Bring to a boil. Remove from heat and serve warm.
Yield: 8 to 10 servings
Erik Larson claims that the “charismatic bartender” at Shaw’s Blue Crab Lounge added a lot to his enjoyment of this drink. But even without the bartender, we think you’ll savor this taste of the Windy City.
2 ounces (G cup) Wild Turkey whiskey Splash sweet vermouth |
1 maraschino cherry |
In a cocktail shaker filled with ice, shake the Wild Turkey and vermouth. Strain into a cocktail or martini glass. Garnish with a cherry. This drink can also be stirred without ice and served on the rocks.
Yield: 1 drink
NOVEL THOUGHTS
Every year, thirty thousand children from the Dallas–Fort Worth area visit Dallas Heritage Village at Old City Park to peruse its historic collections and enjoy its interactive exhibits. Old City Park strives to preserve structures and artifacts related to the history of Dallas and North Central Texas between the years 1840 and 1910 and to interpret these materials for the public through educational programming.
Old City Park program manager Bethany Schirmer launched a book club in an effort to attract more adults to the site. Every other month, five to ten men and women gather over box lunches to discuss books related to Texas history in the latter decades of the 1800s.
When Schirmer chose The Devil in the White City: Murder, Magic, and Madness at the Fair That Changed America, she departed slightly from the usual book selection criteria. “We fudged on this book because it’s not set in Texas,” says Schirmer. “But it falls within our time period, and we know that many people from Texas would have traveled to Chicago to see the World’s Fair. Trains had come to Dallas in the 1870s. By the 1890s, a trip to Chicago would have been a comfortable ride and a good day’s adventure.”
The group was intrigued with Larson’s depiction of Chicago during this period. “We talked about the atmosphere of the city that would allow a killer to get away with so much,” says Schirmer. “So many people at the time thought Holmes’s forward manner was appealing, that this was the way city folks must act.”
Members were also struck by Americans’ varying perceptions of the giant Ferris wheel erected for the fair. Visitors to the World’s Fair criticized the wheel as looking flimsy and “airy,” and worried that it might come crashing down. After studying photos of the 1893 structure, though, Schirmer’s book club thought that, by today’s standards, it looked “chunky.”
Schirmer shared other photographs and artifacts with the group, including a picture book depicting the world in 1893 that included a section on the World’s Fair, and photos that appeared to be taken from the top of the Ferris wheel. Most disturbing to the group were photos of two children, the serial killer’s last victims, which the museum’s collections manager found on the Internet. “To see children that you have heard and read so much about was haunting,” says Schirmer.
More Food for Thought
Chef Julia Shanks of Interactive Cuisine in Cambridge, Massachusetts, creates unique dinner parties in her clients’ homes, providing cooking demonstrations for hosts and their guests while preparing a gourmet three-course dinner. She also creates thematically appropriate menus for book clubs in the Boston area. She found great culinary inspiration in the French menus reprinted in The Devil in the White City.
We asked Shanks to translate some of the dishes featured on the French menus in Larson’s book and provide appropriate substitutions for the modern American home cook. The menus in the book involved many courses of small dishes, but Shanks recommends instead serving a large buffet, with each book club member bringing a dish.
The first menu, served to the architects who were considering joining head architect Daniel Hudson Burnham’s team, utilizes seasonal spring produce: shad, asparagus, artichokes, and cucumbers. “Now you can find these ingredients year-round,” says Shanks, “but in the late 1800s they would need to be in season.”
Recipes for many of the French dishes mentioned in The Devil in the White City can be found in Larousse Gastronomique (Clarkson Potter, 2001), a classic French food encyclopedia. For those who prefer simpler adaptations, here are Shanks’s suggestions:
Consommé of green turtle: Serve chicken broth with vegetables and chicken.
Broiled shad à la maréchal (breaded, fried shad): Substitute arctic char or mackerel, as shad is typically available only in the spring.
Potatoes à la duchesse (mashed potatoes enriched with egg yolks, piped into rosettes and baked): Serve mashed potatoes.
Filet mignon à la Rossini (filet of beef topped with a slab of foie gras and a slice of truffle): As foie gras and truffles are specialty items (and expensive), Shanks suggests serving beef tenderloin stuffed with pâté, roasted, and drizzled with truffle oil or porcini oil.
Fonds d’artichaut farcis (stuffed artichoke hearts): Stuff artichoke hearts with herbed bread crumbs, crab salad, or another stuffing of your choice.
Sorbet au kirsch (cherry sorbet), used to cleanse the palate between courses: You may substitute a lemon or grapefruit sorbet.
Woodcock on toast: Serve a simple chicken liver pâté, or a more elegant duck pâté, from a gourmet grocer, on toast points.
Asparagus salad: Serve cold steamed asparagus.
teaspoon black peppercorns