Coffee in the Colonies

“What if I brewed up some Bohea…in your coffeepot? Are you brave enough to try?”

Anna smirked. “I am desperate enough to try.”

                             Excerpt from Fields of the Fatherless (soon to be released)

Betsy and her sister-in-law, Anna, took a huge risk brewing up the Chinese black tea called Bohea (bu-ee). It was strictly forbidden in the colony of Massachusetts in 1775—so much so that neighborhood comitteemen were assignd to monitor private households to ensure that only coffee or herbal teas were served.

Anyone caught drinking the banned brew of tea taxed by England would be deemed a Tory. But drinking coffee was akin to declaring independence for America. Coffee was the preferred drink of the patriotic cause although many still desired the black or green tea that they had been accustomed to. Some, like Anna, used black tea like Bohea for headaches, so it was a real sacrifice to make the change. And some just liked the milder taste of tea.

But preferences aside, the popularity of coffee in America soared after the Boston Tea Party.

In fact, the party itself was planned and the details plotted out in a coffee house called The Green Dragon. It was in December of 1773 that over one hundred enraged patriots tossed cases of tea overboard from three ships into the murky Boston harbor. The tea boycott had begun.

But while coffee was suddenly in high demand, it had actually arrived in the colonies in the late 17^th century, at the same time as tea.

 Coffee originated in the Arab countries but live plants were transported to greenhouses in Holland in 1616. From there, the Dutch began to grow this popular bean in India and Java (now called Indonesia). Within a few years, the Dutch were the main suppliers of coffee to Europe.

The Holland connection brings up another interesting tidbit from my research. A mortar and pestle for “braying” coffee beans into powder was brought over on the Mayflower in 1620 by passengers William and Susanna White. The emigrants onboard the Mayflower had resided in Holland for a time before leaving for the New World. Thus, the first coffee may have arrived with the first colonists arriving at Plymouth, although there was no record of the beans actually carried as cargo onboard.

English coffeepot, Staffordshire transferware

According to Dennis Picard, historian at Storrowton Village Museum in West Springfield, Massachusetts, “coffee was shipped and purchased green, and the homeowner had to roast each batch either in a spider (a frying pan with legs) or a metal drum shaped roaster.” It was then ground with a mortar and pestle.

Crank coffee grinders began to be used in homes in the early part of the 19^th century.

The first literary reference to coffee consumption in North America is from 1668, when coffee houses were established in New York, Philadelphia, Boston and other cities. Often these coffee houses also served other beverages, such as tea, ale and cider.

A mention of coffee and tea is found in Shirley Glubock’s Home and Child Life in Colonial Days:

“In 1670, a Boston woman was licensed to sell coffee and chocolate, and soon coffee houses were established there. Some did not know how to cook coffee any more than tea, but boiled the whole coffee beans in water, ate them, and drank the liquid; and naturally this was not very good either to eat or drink.

At the time of the Stamp Act, when patriotic Americans threw the tea into Boston Harbor, Americans were just as great tea drinkers as the English. Coffee-drinking, first acquired in the Revolution, has also descended from generation to generation, and we now drink more coffee than tea. This is one of the differences in our daily life caused by the Revolution.”

Brittania ware Coffeepot

Just one of the many differences, indeed.

My favorite excerpt about coffee and the American Revolution was an incident recorded by Abigail Adams in 1778, and quoted in Revolutionary Mothers by Carol Berkin:

“An eminent, wealthy, stingy merchant (also a bachelor) had a hogshead of coffee in his store, which he refused to sell…under six shillings per pound. A number of females, some say a hundred, some say more, assembled with a cart and trunks, marched down to the Warehouse and demanded the keys which he refused to deliver. Upon which one of them seized him by his neck and tossed him into the cart. Upon his finding no quarter, he delivered the keys when they tipped up the cart and discharged him; then opened the Warehouse, hoisted out the coffee themselves, put it into the trunks and drove off…a large concourse of men stood amazed silent spectators.”

I suppose the moral of that tale is, never stand between a woman and her coffee—especially during a Revolution!

 (Coffeepot photos courtesy of Storrowton Village Museum, West Springfield, Massachusetts)

Colonial Cats and Mice

Posted by Elaine Marie Cooper

There is a Colonial American proverb: “You will always be lucky if you know how to make friends with strange cats.”

Perhaps it was a popular saying because that friendship could help quell the numerous mice the colonists were forced to contend with. Not only did the scavengers threaten the colonials’ meager supply of food, the rodents even ate any supply of candles. The tallow (animal fat) that was used to make this precious commodity was apparently appreciated by the little creatures—much to the house owners’ consternation.

To shield the candles from destruction, the colonists built special wooden boxes and set them on the wall to keep their source of light safe from the hungry creatures.

But an early American household also kept that ultimate mice killer—a cat.

Until I visited Storrowton Village Museum in West Springfield, Massachusetts last fall, I was unaware that some colonial homes had openings to the outdoors for their cats to go in and out. I actually thought that cat doors were a 20th century invention. It certainly made more sense in the 18th century since they likely did not tolerate cat boxes in the house.

If you look closely at this 18th century home, which is situated at the museum in West Springfield, you will see the cat door in the lower right near the door.

A close-up will reveal it even more clearly.

Ah, the life of a happy colonial cat. Since we have no photos of a colonial kitty, my own feline, Julius, has graciously offered to model.

Julius has no such luxury to come and go as he pleases. His outdoor ventures to my front porch are closely monitored by humans. He is an indoor, city cat—but a great mouser indoors. With the cooler, fall weather descending, I am grateful for his hunting skills since the little rodents are notorious for finding the tiniest entrance into a home.

Mice were not indigenous to America. They were stowaways on board ships from Europe. As uninvited guests, they quickly made their home quite comfortably in the New World. Along with these little varmints on the boats were other pests: gray rats, black flies and (gulp) cockroaches.

The only reference to mice being in any way useful was in a volume called Taxation in Colonial America by Alvin Robushka: “Specific export duties were imposed on skins of beaver, raccoon, mink, otter, bear, wolf, muskrat, mice, and deer…”

Shiver. Mice skins? They actually skinned them and used them for something? 

 I don’t even want to think about it. But there must have been a lot of mice…

This author has opted to include no photos of rodents. :)