Erin E. Moulton

I don’t know about you, but by the time winter truly sets in, around January and February, I’m craving those summer flavors. The true garden fresh taste of ripe tomatoes and bright berries is absent, save whatever has been tucked away in the freezer or dried and put up in the pantry. We often have a small supply of summer fruits left, and I found the perfect use for them from a delightful cookbook I snagged out of the donation box at the library. The volume popped right out at me as I was chatting with a coworker in the back room, New England People, Birds, Flowers, Herbs, Weather, Customs and Cookery. There are many bonuses to working at the library and first dibs on the donation bin is one of them.

The volume was The New England Butt’ry Shelf Almanac by Mary Mason Campbell, accompanied by illustrations by Tasha Tudor.

What a gorgeous little collection of New England antiquity. Mary Mason Campbell takes us through the New England seasons, providing anecdotes, profiles of familiar New England names (like Snowflake Bentley) and recipes for each month. I was bouncing through the the recipes suitable to midwinter, but when I wandered out into summer pages and my eyes landed on July, I’d changed my tune. Blueberry Topsy Turvey Cake.

Yes, please.

A second later, I was pulling the last of summer’s blueberries from the back of the freezer. I set to work, melting sugar and butter in a cast iron pan, spreading blueberries into a thin layer and mixing up a simple cake batter. I drizzled the batter over the top, set the cake in the oven and within 40 minutes the whole house had that homemade blueberry muffin smell.

When I withdrew it from the oven, it took everything in my willpower not to flip the cake immediately. When I finally executed the topsy turvey bit, I was pleasantly surprised. The blueberries released from the pan, seeping dark purple syrup down the sides in a few places, yet stayed mostly intact across the top of the cake. Short on whipped cream, I waited for the cake to cool a bit and sprinkled it with powdered sugar.

It came together with such ease and was so lovely it took only two days for a three-person-household to reduce it to a pan of crumbs.

If I were to make it again, I would follow her instructions more closely and use a cake pan rather than my always ready cast iron skillet! And, yes, whipped cream, of course whipped cream. What could be better than fresh picked blueberries and whipped cream?

Stirred by the comfort of summer flavors– and memories– I whisked myself away to the archives to see if I could find out more about this woman. And find her, I did. Mary Mason Campbell was extremely well recorded, so it was easy to locate her and stitch together her story. She was a woman who had an affection for history, food, herbs and books. How….familiar.

Mrs. Mary Mason Campbell

Mary Mason Campbell was born Mary Mason on 5 December 1909 in Nebraska. Her parents were Edgar Mason and Margaret Dolphin. Edgar was an English immigrant who came to America in the 1880s and Margaret was born in Iowa. When Mary was born they were living in Bloomfield and Edgar worked as a banker while Margaret was a domestic. Mary had three siblings, Evelyn, Margaret and Richard.

Glimpses of Mary through early Bloomfield news outlets reveal an adventurous child, engaged with community activities. Below, we can see her injuring her arm (for the second time!) when she was just 6.

And taking part in the Campfire Lassies, which looked akin to the Girl Scouts.

Other notes from her childhood included, having perfect attendance in 1916, winning first prize for a handmade baby bib at the Knox County Fair in 1919, and being named Miss Pioneer in 1929. She also could be found performing in a variety of local productions, including the lead role in The Wishing Ring a play presented at the local opera house to benefit the public library. Mary played Jean who dove into Storybook Land (through a book) when her mother shuttered her out of the evening of (grown up) festivities. Mary continued this interest in acting through her years at Yankton College, closing out her acting college career as Key Wing in The Little New Moon.

When Mary graduated from college, her curiosity and creativity carried her to the great city of Chicago. Many biographical notes indicate that she took classes at the Art Institute there.

Feast your eyes on their programming during the time when Mary would have been in the city.

Sure enough, the 1940 census supports this timeline as Mary was enumerated as head of household in Chicago, with a wife named Mildred Mischler. They were both also listed as single, so I assume that is an error and not necessarily an American Portrait of a Lady on Fire situation. Picture this, 1940, Chicago. In the heart of the Windy City, the streets were cold, but the arts scene was hot, and two dames found themselves wrapped up in the wrong kind of love.

Ehem. Sorry, got a little carried away. What do you think? Was it a clerical error?

While in the city, Mary worked as a secretary at Pure Oil. Early in 1941, she married Douglas Campbell. Doug was born in Lowell, MA–a child of Irish immigrants–and he worked in Public Relations at Pure Oil, as well.

While Mary’s love for theater arts were primarily featured in local newspapers, what did not get as much early press was her love for cooking and the written word. One detail that comes through, concerning her bookish nature, is that upon the death of her father, she set up an annual donation to the public library in her hometown, sponsoring book donations focused on music, biography and art. This was an annual installment that was given to the institution even long after she had left the area. Later, she reflected on the role the library played in her life.

Mary and Doug eventually settled in New England where Mary’s love for nature, cooking and art was fostered. At some point, presumably during her New England years, she became friends with Tasha Tudor, and by the 60s she wasn’t just reading books, she was writing them–and Tasha was illustrating.

By the 70s, Mary and Doug had purchased an old farm house in Salisbury, New Hampshire–A small town that at one point in it’s tangled history was called Bakers Town, and at another point was called Stevenstown, and at one point lay within the Massachusetts border. Mary’s historical house was a plain style colonial built in the 1700s by Joseph Bean, Esq and, today, it is lovingly kept up by the Rapalyea’s who have resided there for the past 38 years. It was likely everything Mary could have wanted, complete with beautiful yard for gardening and the town’s oldest maple tree guarding the entryway.

I had the opportunity to chat with David Rapalyea one Saturday afternoon. Our conversation ranged from the complicated web of house histories, to antiquing to the current price of oil and, of course, to the Campbell’s. As our conversation was winding down, one particular anecdote stuck with me:

David related that the Campbell’s arrived and departed from Salisbury like clockwork, each year. They would arrive on May Day and leave on voting day in November. It was a familiar image to see them racing to the polls with their car fully packed. Once they completed their civic duty, they would hit the road. David once inquired about their travel plans and Mary explained, “We go south for the winter.” David assumed they were headed to the sun drenched beaches of Florida, but South, to Mary and Doug Campbell, was North Scituate, Rhode Island.

“I’d never leave New England,” Mary said.

And she never did.

Mary was deeply in love with the area. In the opening of the almanac, she reflects on its purpose:

In a gentle mood of nostalgia, The New England Butt’ry Shelf Almanac has been written in the hope that it, too, will furnish interesting and useful information to all those who love New England, its customs and people, its old houses and ghosts, its hills and valleys and rivers and coves, and its ways of keeping house and garden.

Mary Mason Campbell

As we melt butter and sugar, mix batter and propel blueberries to a gentle bubble, we do just that. We stir up the ghosts of New England past. Of summer’s last harvest. Of history and people gone by.

Pictured below is Mary’s keeping room in Salisbury. Carefully curated herbs hang in front of the fireplace while above the harvest table the central candelabra holds homemade bayberry candles. Can you imagine Mary sitting at that table while she writes a few words down for her next book? Can you feel the warmth of a crackling fire emanating from the fireplace or imagine the scent of thyme and sage wafting from their place above the mantle?

Can you picture a slice of Blueberry Topsy Turvey Cake landing on that table, calling people with its ethereal aroma?

Mary Mason Campbell passed away in 2007. She was a busy, curious and creative woman who was in love with the arts, the outdoors, food and history. Her Blueberry Topsy Turvey Cake captures the flavors of quintessential New England summers. Tuck it away for your July harvest, or, if you’re like me and are craving a touch of summer, pull those blueberries from the freezer and treat yourself to this divine little cake, today.

It’ll do for breakfast as well as it will for dessert. I promise.

If you make Mary Mason Campbell’s Blueberry Topsy Turvey Cake, I’d love to see the results! Tag me on instagram @erinemoulton #Soulspunkitchen

Many thanks to Rose Cravens at the Salisbury Historical Society and to David Rapalyea for taking the time to help me with this project. Any historical or biographical errors are, of course, my own.