Party Like It’s 1821
An Edited Excerpt from “Pleasure, Parlors, Phosphates, and the Pastoral: Ice Cream Consumption Sites and ‘Spa’ Culture in 19th-Century America,” written as a thesis for graduation, September 2020
by Hannah Spiegelman
In my Brookline apartment’s living room, peak pandemic, a photoshoot took place. The models were glasses filled with ices. While packing up my life in Boston (which was about 40% assorted herbs, liquors, and kitchen tools) a couple of months before I defended my thesis for the Gastronomy program, I rushed to make three different flavors so my roommate photographer could get some good shots before I moved into a much smaller Brooklyn apartment.
Lined up against a black backdrop sat a coupe glass with brandy poured over lemon ice topped with pearls of white currants, one of the desserts I created to represent one of three main locations of upper- and middle-class ice cream consumption: the pleasure garden. When writing my thesis, I knew I would create a flight of flavors that helped me conceptualize my argument and transport myself into the landscapes of my research, as I often did with other assignments throughout the program—I don’t think I took one class where I didn’t either write an ice cream recipe inspired by my work or bring the flavor in for students to sample.
Since the Gastronomy program is celebrating 30 years, I will focus on this first flavor from my thesis and its sparkling corresponding story. Pleasure gardens aren’t often discussed anymore, and examples of them in media tend to go unmentioned—I solely watched the whole first season of Bridgerton because I recognized one of the parties as a pleasure garden, and I thought I would get to see more food and historical entertainment accuracies—spoiler alert, I did not. Pleasure gardens, first and foremost, were outdoor venues designed for relaxation and celebration, so that fits right in with the theme. Yet these spaces were wealthy, racist, classist, and sexist. Ice cream played its part in this type of atmosphere because at the beginning of the 19th century, ice cream consumption was also all those things. Although ice cream, the commodity, transcended lines of gender, class, and race, pleasure gardens were exclusive locations that continued to uphold, construct, and play into a spa-like fantasy and conveyed to working-class and Black people that they could not enjoy the same resort-like privileges.
Jonathan Colin describes the intrigue of the pleasure garden: “Promenading along their shaded walks of a summer evening, visitors could escape the pains of the city while still enjoying its pleasures. Sudden contrasts of light and dark, familiar and strange, pleasure and danger that would have seemed deeply unsettling anywhere else became a source of excitement and wonder.” As seasonal resorts that developed in 17th-century England, pleasure gardens were open during the afternoons and evenings and provided sensorial entertainment that varied from musical concerts and firework shows to fragrant flora and edible refreshments like ice cream, which surprised guests with its capacity to stay cold in the summer heat. An advertisement for the Odeon Ice-Cream Garden suggested that “the beaux and belles have once more a cool place of resort where they can talk soft things over saucers of ‘vanilla’ and ‘lemon,’ or listen to the refreshing tinkle of the silvery fountain.”
Pleasure gardens were created directly out of European spa culture. Spas were ancient pleasure landscapes that originated in Rome, along with the ideas that certain waters were medicinal and that restoration of one’s health outside of the city was necessary. This idea extended to pleasure gardens; ice cream and other refreshments such as lemonades and oysters were inseparable from the experience.
The concept of the pleasure garden was brought to America with the British in the 18th century. Early East Coast cities like New York grew in size quickly, making pleasure gardens a desired place in which to take a healthful break from urban life. Rich urbanites could no longer rely on green city commons to be their dose of nature, as they observed they “had become a hive of ‘pleasure, luxury, gaming, and dissipation,’” according to scholar Roy Porter.
While proprietors may have promoted their pleasure gardens as spaces to get in touch with nature and spaces that were welcome to all, the gardens were designed to be exclusionary to many. But the pastoral atmosphere, the amusements offered, and the cost helped the proprietors mold their gardens into “genteel” spaces. The terms “genteel” and “ungenteel” were boundary-keeping, created and controlled by the upper classes. They are not clear in the way that the terms “upper-class” and “working-class” are. In the 19th century, being genteel meant looking and acting appropriately. One could behave, or perform, the correct way to be considered genteel, but it was the elite who decided what such performances looked like.
Pleasure gardens were unique in their ability to provide visitors with an escape just far enough away from the bustle of the city and provide a variety of amusements all at once. Ice cream was one such amusement. To have ice cream, an ephemeral luxury, in the hot summer was a man-made feat and a special, evanescent experience. This view of ice cream as a resort amusement, argues Wendy Woloson, “established the way Americans came to perceive ice cream and the contexts for its consumption throughout the nineteenth century.” Pleasure gardens, as the name suggests, created pleasurable experiences, with ice cream and mineral waters at the forefront. Although scientific studies had not been conducted at the time, it is now known that, per Ron Eccles, the “stimulation of oral cold receptors is proposed to be perceived as pleasurable and influence the hedonic process.”
With the “furnishing” of ice cream, pleasure garden operators worked hard to make their businesses distinct from the other entertainments of the day that could be found within indoor spaces. In a Washington, D.C., advertisement for “evenings at castle garden,” the author explains that the grounds were “originally a circular battery, but long since [were] converted to the peaceful purposes of an ice-cream garden.” Proprietors advertised that they offered the best for the best, whether that was a firework spectacle or chilled glasses to cool visitors down on a sweltering day.
The romantic and pastoral design of the gardens resulted in an ambiance that equated its constructed natural element with the imagined genteel. The gardens were enclosed with tall fences, preventing onlookers from getting a peek inside, thus shielding the “genteel” from the presumably “ungenteel.” The physical border around the garden “clearly marked space, it was clear if one gained entry or not—one was in or out, one was genteel or not,” according to Naomi Stubbs. An 1840s announcement for Niblo’s Garden confirms that its appearance is in top shape and ready for visitors to enjoy its amusements: “This agreeable place of summer resort opens next Monday. The walks have been put in neat order by Mr. Niblo, the shrubbery has been dressed in its array of foliage for the season by nature, and everything is ready for supping lemonades and ice creams, listening to music and gazing at fire works.” The walkways of greenery alongside elegant seating and stages for performances gave the entertainment venue a distinct resort atmosphere. Exotic plants added to the mystery and intrigue of the gardens as places that were unique and separate from what the city had to offer. The names of the gardens, from Castle Garden to Brooklyn’s Odeon Garden, expressed their appearance. Odeon was a type of building from ancient Greece and Rome built specifically for entertainment. This type of classical recognition would be duplicated in the design of ice cream parlors later in the century.
To keep their gardens attractive to their main audience of upper- and middle-class patrons, pleasure garden operators worked to prevent working-class people from visiting. As for-profit ventures, most gardens required an entrance fee, at least on certain days, both to ensure profitability and to deter those who did not have disposable incomes, which in turn attracted a wealthier clientele.
The cost of pleasure gardens was moderate when it came to city entertainments, but “it was through considering admission rates carefully that proprietors were able to position their venues as both exclusive and affordable,” according to Stubbs. Pleasure gardens ranged in price. “For six shillings,” at Joseph Delacroix’s New York pleasure garden in 1797, “a celebrant was entitled to a glass of ice cream, punch or lemonade.” Previously free, Delacroix began requiring a “refreshment ticket” at the end of the 18th century to make sure that even those who presented themselves in a “genteel” manner proved their status by paying upfront. The ticket could then be redeemed for treats once inside. This also further links pleasure gardens as consumption landscapes. According to the 1880 Harper’s Weekly article looking back at the legacy of “concert gardens,” the East River Garden in Manhattan cost a “moderate sum of twelve and a half cents.” If you could afford the time and money to visit a garden, you had exclusive access to the privilege of pleasure, escape from work, entertainment, and refreshments in theses spaces. Show-stopping fireworks, popular musical acts, and a cold dish of ice cream fit into an upper- and middle-class person’s idea of what it meant to be upper- or middle-class.
Pricing alone was not enough to present a pleasure garden as fit for “genteel” people. Proprietors had to assure visitors that their gardens were respectable through advertisements, presenting activities that highlighted the “rural ideal in an urban setting,” encouraging women and family units to visit, and emphasizing the enforcement of rules. Pleasure gardens provided a landscape for men and women to socialize together, which could not happen at restaurants at this time.
While some gardens advertised their accommodations for women and children and some focused more on sports and were exclusive to gentlemen, most advertised themselves as resorts for both sexes, with proprietors specifically interested in securing the patronage of women, since ladies added to the respectability of their enterprise. Pleasure garden operators requested that gentlemen visit their gardens in the company of ladies, since men alone represented the feared debauchery of the tavern. In his New York pleasure garden, Delacroix created an amphitheater that was open to gentlemen only if escorted by a lady. In the late 20th century, Michael and Ariane Batterberry commented, “At last the local ladies, denied the solace of their friendly neighborhood tavern and scarcely tolerated in the theater pit, were openly requested to present themselves publicly in the genteel air and ice cream atmosphere of the Gardens.”
Since women were not welcomed by neighborhood taverns, pleasure gardens were an intriguing refuge for upper- and middle-class women. Bars and taverns were male-centric spaces where an upper- and middle-class woman was only bound to be uncomfortable and turned away; therefore, no respectable woman would dare enter such a space. The idea of a respectable lady was co-constructed with the idea of a respectable public place. Thus, if a woman was found unescorted in a restaurant, it was believed that she was a sex worker; therefore, upper- and middle-class women chose to dine with a male chaperone in order not to draw suspicion as to her purpose. Spaces like pleasure gardens, and later ice cream parlors, gave middle-class women security because of their admission policies, design, and purpose. If a pleasure garden included genteel women, it was considered respectable, and if a woman attended such entertainments, she herself was seen as respectable.
But at the same time, pleasure gardens, as the name suggests, created places for romantic encounters. The possibilities of an illicit romantic rendezvous were many in a space that was created with shaded walkways and corners of plants and sweet-smelling flowers. The greenery not only added to the rural idealism of the gardens but also could add to the mystery and seduction of the gardens. However, appropriate romance was often encouraged in advertisements. The Morning Herald asserts that Vauxhall Garden “is indeed a ‘spot of calm recline, Adorned by nature and by women divine.’”
While advertisements for pleasure gardens listed everything from the accommodating prices to their resort refreshments, they ignored race. The exclusion of Black people from pleasure gardens was part of “a general exclusion of free Blacks from cultural activities considered to be ‘white,’” per Stubbs. As long as visitors could pay the entrance fee, they were allowed in regardless of their class, but African Americans were actively barred from pleasure gardens. Gentility was inherently white. Keeping Black people out of the space unless they were servers was part of what kept the space genteel. An 1840 advertisement for a New York garden highlights the garden’s wooded areas and entertainment: “Those who delight in sylvan shades, dark walks, and genuine negro dancing, should visit this snug retreat, where they can enjoy the whole perfection. Talk of rural felicity!”
Here, we see a rare mention of Black people, although not as pleasure garden visitors but as a spectacle. And in addition, there is a good chance that these Black performers were white minstrel performers in blackface, “a physical construction of blackness that was under [white] control.” Stubbs writes, “By forcing African Americans to perform inferiority within the space of the pleasure gardens, the superiority of the white patrons was asserted and assured.” The landscape remained “genteel” because of the unwavering social hierarchy. Minstrelsy was popular in pleasure gardens, and such acts not only reaffirmed white superiority but also connected the manufactured “rural” landscape with a romantic and pastoral vision of the South. White performers in blackface were able to control and construct Blackness, allowing “an entire race to be presented as containable, knowable, and (most importantly) inferior.”
White genteel society did not approve of people in situations they could not control, and this anxiety led to mockery. The white upper classes, per Stubbs, “attempted to assert white superiority by mocking attempts of blacks to stake a claim to class and society and trying to make them appear ridiculous.” White upper- and middle-class New Yorkers were insecure with the thought that Black people would enjoy the same amusements as they did, and this anxiety would extend throughout the 19th century. The very few Black-run gardens mirrored the structure and attractions of white pleasure gardens, focusing on welcoming a respectable upper-class crowd and providing elite refreshments like ice cream. By emulating the aesthetic of white pleasure gardens, Black gardens gave well-off Black city dwellers an opportunity to claim what Stubbs called “a validity to their identities as American citizens.”
By midcentury, working-class people began visiting the gardens on their days off or in the evenings. Expensive cultural amusements like opera shifted to lower-class amusements like impersonations. Stubbs argues that while such a shift happened at varied times throughout the gardens’ histories, the theme of lowbrow acts being a sign of the end of pleasure gardens remains constant. The tensions between the upper classes who “found their genteel space compromised by inappropriate behavior” and the lower classes who “resented the restrictions” turned into riots, destruction of the gardens, theft, and vandalism. Some gardens began employing “officers” to further enforce codes of conduct with fines and charges.
This tension persuaded the upper and middle classes to find their pastoral resort experience at ice cream parlors and ice cream saloons. Since pleasure gardens had been designed specifically to serve a certain group of people, the departure of their target audience led to their demise. When the working class arrived at the gardens to get a taste of the entertainments like ice cream, the wealthy left, finding new spaces for ice cream consumption, not to be associated with the lower classes they deemed unrespectable.
As pleasure gardens waned, confectioners moved their business to brick and mortar parlors in the city. The experience of middle-class men and women socializing in the resort-like gardens allowed similar experiences to take place in parlors and dining rooms in the city. While parlors would not be able to replicate the wide-ranging amusements of the pleasure garden, they still provided an equally respectable place for upper- and middle-class women to enjoy their cold scoops among painted walls, ornate floral designs, and nods to Europe, all of which mimicked the look of the pleasure gardens. Parlors also continued to exclude people, especially Black people and lower classes, to keep their spaces “genteel.” The gardens helped enforce ideas of what it meant to be a respectable member of the upper classes and ice cream’s place as an elite product in the 19th century. The ice cream parlor continued these practices of boundary construction, offering a new space in which to perform gentility.
The Pleasure Garden: Brandy Over Lemon Ice with Currants
The lemon ice of “Pleasure Garden” shimmers alongside tiny pearls of currants, symbolizing the “genteel” nature of the gardens. Its brandy surroundings represent the gentlemen who dined beside the ladies with a view of fountains and fireworks.
Ingredients:
2 1/2 cups water
1 cup plus 2 tablespoons sugar
1 tablespoon lemon zest
1 cup freshly squeezed lemon juice from about 6 lemons
Brandy
Handful of fresh currants
Instructions:
In a medium saucepan, place 1/2 cup of the water, sugar, and lemon zest. Heat the mixture over medium heat, stirring frequently, until the sugar is dissolved. Remove from the heat and mix in the rest of the water. Refrigerate until chilled.
Stir the lemon juice into the base, and then freeze in your ice cream maker according to the manufacturer’s instructions. Once the sorbet is churned, place it in a freezer-safe container and freeze for at least two hours before serving.
Place a scoop of the sorbet in a coupe or similar glass. Pour in two ounces of brandy and top with several fresh currants.
Photography by Ben McCarthy
