MOLASSES: SUGAR'S DEEPEST, DARKEST, YUMMIEST SECRET

Ever been in a sticky situation? We all have. But probably none as sticky as the Great Molasses Flood, sometimes called the Molasses Massacre, which hit Boston in 1919.

The tragedy occurred when over two million gallons of molasses stored in a 50-foot tall tank at the Purity Distilling Company burst forth, probably as a consequence of a rapid rise in temperature from below zero one day to 40 degrees the next.

A wall of molasses estimated to be as high as 30 feet swept down Boston's Atlantic Avenue at the rate of 25-35 miles per hour engulfing just about everything in its path. Cars were crushed, homes were toppled from their foundations, a portion of the city's elevated train line was demolished, and Boston Harbor was stained brown. As many as 150 people were injured and 21 were killed. It took six months to clean up the mess.

Worse yet, I calculate that as an aftermath of the tragedy 14 million batches of Boston baked beans, 11 million loaves of gingerbread and over 600 million soft molasses cookies were never made!

As this episode demonstrates, the history of molasses has not always been sweetness and light. The dark syrup also played a pivotal role in firmly establishing the slave trade in the New World. It was part of the infamous triangular trade route. Molasses would be shipped from the West Indies to New England where it would be distilled into rum. The rum would then be transported to Africa. There it would be traded for slaves who were then sent to the West Indies, where they would be traded in turn for molasses and sentenced to work in the sugar plantations there. Before long, slaves were brought to the United States to work in the sugar cane fields of what is now Louisiana, where sugar cane was first established as a crop in 1751 by Jesuit priests from Santo Domingo.

The thick, brown liquid was also instrumental in abetting the American Revolution. Because France was fearful that molasses, a raw material for the distillation of rum, could jeopardize its brandy industry, it prohibited its West Indies colonies from exporting the product back to the mother country. Instead, it was shipped to the British colonies of North America where, because it was relatively cheap compared to sugar, it soon became the principal sweetener. As Margaret Guthrie, writing in Early American Homes magazine, observes, "Even a cursory look at early American recipes shows the extensive use of molasses." It was used in cookies, baked beans, taffy, gingerbread and that venerable Pennsylvania Dutch specialty, shoofly pie, so named because the drops of molasses which form on its surface as it cools attract flies which, like some people, have to be chased away until the pie is ready to serve.

It didn't hurt either that rum, consumed by the typical colonist at the rate of four gallons per year and thus the most significant spirit in colonial America (of the alcoholic variety anyway), can be made from molasses. In 1750, Massachusetts alone had 63 distilleries producing rum from molasses. So alluring was the syrup that the founders of the colony of Georgia offered an inducement of some 64 quarts of molasses to anyone who would settle there for a year.

It didn't take long for the British Crown, burdened with a debt from the French and Indian War, to notice this potential revenue source and slap a tax on it. The enactment of the Molasses Act of 1733, a precursor to the Sugar Act of 1764, placed a duty of sixpence on every gallon of molasses imported to the colonies. The measure was provocative enough that John Adams called molasses "an essential ingredient in American Independence." Not only has molasses been at times the focal point of disaster, shame and controversy, the term is often used pejoratively to describe someone or something which is slow moving and inefficient, as in the observation of one anonymous political pundit who noted, "Any significantly advanced bureaucracy is indistinguishable from molasses." But despite its sweet-sour past, molasses maintained its dominance as the major sweetener in America (even being used in Cavendish brand tobacco) until after World War I when sugar prices began to fall, though as early as 1915, according to James Trager's Food Chronology, U.S. per capita consumption of white granulated sugar had doubled over what it had been in the previous century and consumption of molasses correspondingly declined.

These days molasses is used not as a general sweetener but only when its unique taste is desired. But that's reason enough to use it often. In fact, you can do as the colonists did and substitute molasses for sugar in your favorite recipes for baked goods. Not only does it impart flavor, but it makes the finished product moister and helps it stay fresh longer. The general rule of thumb, according to the people who make Grandma's Molasses, is that for every cup of sugar you can substitute one cup of molasses as long as you reduce the rest of the liquid in the recipe (not counting oil) by one third cup.

There are three grades of molasses, all of them by-products of the sugar refining process. After the sugar cane stalks are stripped of their leaves and the seedpods cut off, they are run through a mill and crushed. The juice which is squeezed out is then strained and boiled for a matter of hours. The residue that remains after crystallization is molasses. The lighter the color, the better the grade. Thus, the residue from the first boiling is light molasses, from the second, dark molasses, and from the third the darkest of all, blackstrap molasses (identified by Gayelord Hauser in 1950 as a "wonder food"), a name derived from the Dutch word "stroop" for syrup.

We get the word "molasses" itself, by the way, from the Portuguese, who along with the Spanish began sugar production in the West having learned the agricultural techniques involved from the conquering Moors. The Portuguese word "melaco," derived from the Latin word "melaceus" for honey-like, gave way to "melasus," a term first used in 1582, according to The Dictionary of American Food and Drink, nearly a hundred years after Columbus brought sugar cane to the New World on his second voyage in 1493.

Ever since, to one degree or another, we have been stuck on sugar's dark and delicious derivative. If you've forgotten just how wonderful its flavor can be, try the following recipes, all oozing with the great taste of molasses.

The Ultimate Molasses Cookie

For my wife nothing brings back fond childhood memories better than molasses cookies, the kind her late grandmother used to make. This recipe, adapted from Bon Appetit Magazine, updates the classic homey cookie with the addition of white chocolate and cashews. Someday these too might make a future grandchild wistful.

Ingredients:

2 1/2 cups flour

1 teaspoon baking soda

1/4 teaspoon nutmeg

2 sticks butter

1 cup sugar

1/4 cup molasses

2 eggs

1 and 1/2 cups salted cashew pieces

1/2 cup white chocolate chips

Directions:

Cream butter, sugar, and molasses until fluffy. Beat in eggs. Sift together flour, soda, and nutmeg and add to butter mixture, combining well. Stir in cashews and chips. If dough is too soft, refrigerate until firm. Drop by heaping teaspoonfuls onto greased baking sheets and bake at 350 degrees for 10-12 minutes until golden. Cool slightly before removing from sheets. Makes 4 dozen.

Georganne Syler's Boston Brown Bread

I don't know if you're required to be cheerful to be a nutritionist, but all the ones I know are, especially Dr. Georganne Syler of Southeast Missouri State University. Her effervescent personality could probably get even me to eat health food. Fortunately, her healthy recipes also taste great, and this one for an American classic is no exception. It's low in fat, but because of the inclusion of molasses, it's high in flavor.

Ingredients:

2 cups whole wheat flour

1 cup all purpose flour

2 teaspoons baking soda

1/2 cup sugar

1/2 cup molasses

2 cups buttermilk

1 cup raisins

1 cup chopped walnuts

Directions:

Mix together all dry ingredients except nuts and raisins. Add wet ingredients and blend thoroughly. Blend in raisins and nuts. Let stand one hour. Bake in muffin cups at 350 degrees for about 30 minutes.

Barbecue Bean Soup

The use of molasses in barbecue sauces and in baked beans has been traditional at least since the mid-nineteenth century, especially in New England. This soup recipe, adapted from Gourmet Magazine, capitalizes nicely on that heritage.

Ingredients:

3 cups chopped onion

3 garlic cloves

1/4 cup vegetable oil

2 tablespoons chili powder

2 tablespoons ground cumin

1 teaspoon ground allspice

1/4 teaspoon ground cloves

2 cans (32 oz. each) tomatoes

3 cans (16 oz. each) pinto beans

2 bottles (7 oz. each) roasted red peppers

3 and 1/2 cups beef broth

1/4 cup molasses

1 tablespoon Tabasco

2 teaspoons cider vinegar

Directions:

Mince the garlic and cook with the onion in oil over moderate heat, stirring, until onion is softened. Add spices and simmer for one minute. Chop the tomatoes and add with their juice. Rinse and drain the beans and add. Rinse and drain the peppers, chop and add. Add remaining ingredients except vinegar and simmer, partially covered, for 1 and 1/2 hours, stirring occasionally. Stir in the vinegar and heat through to serve. Makes 8 servings.

Listen to A Harte Appetite every Saturday at 11:59 a.m. on KRCU-FM 90.9. Write A Harte Appetite, c/o The Southeast Missourian, P.O. Box 699, Cape Girardeau, Mo., 63702-0699 or e-mail tharte@semovm.semo.edu.