Pease porridge hot,
Pease porridge cold,
Pease porridge in the pot,
Nine days old.
                      
Some like it hot,
Some like it cold,
Some like it in the pot
Nine days old.

Welcome to the second day of my Children’s Book Week celebration featuring recipes inspired by Mother Goose. Hope you had fun patting your cheesecake.

While researching Pease Porridge Hot, I made a startling discovery. Pease porridge is actually made from peas! (Duh.) Why didn’t somebody tell me this? Do you realize I lived my whole life thinking pease porridge was oatmeal?

I mean, I really have to get out more.

I’m sure it’s the word, porridge, that threw me off. I think it’s an American thing to call oatmeal or cream of wheat, or any hot cereal, porridge. How deceiving! Somebody, notify the Mush Police!

Anyhow, pease supposedly comes from the Old English, pise, and the Latin, pisum. Basically, it was a collective term for mushy cooked vegetables. You know how it is with peas. They hang in groups. Just as well. Any time a pea is on its own, it gets into trouble, usually lodging itself in a child’s nostril, or gleefully hurtling itself from a shooter.

As with many familiar nursery rhymes, the exact origin of Pease Porridge Hot is unknown, but it does date back to Medieval times. Dried peas, water, salt and other spices simmered for hours in a big kettle hung over a fire. Sometimes other vegetables were added, if available, with pork or bacon for flavor. The peasants ate this day in, day out, since they couldn’t afford meat. Each morning they added more liquid to the pot, in order to extend the porridge for one more meal. It’s unlikely, but not wholly inconceivable, that the porridge lasted a full nine days.

In 19th century England, hot pease pudding was sold by street vendors. It was originally associated with the industrial Northeastern part of the country, especially around Newcastle. Now it is more widely available, and sometimes sold in butcher shops, since it is often eaten with pork.

You probably guessed that pease porridge, pudding, or pottage (how very British!) is the precursor to our modern day split pea soup. It’s still a thick affair, but not as viscous as the original pease pudding, which supposedly resembled hummus.

Now I’m definitely in the mood for some split pea soup, since the weather has turned cold. Here are two recipes: the first is from the Mother Goose Cookbook (illustrated by last week’s guest, Carol Schwartz), and the second is one that can be made in the crock pot (ideal for writers who don’t want to keep watching the stove). Try the first recipe for an authentic Mother Goose experience, the second, if you’re simply after soup.

Laura Ingalls Wilder said she liked her pease porridge hot or cold, but it never lasted in their house for very long.