This handbook or “dictionary of useful information,” published in late 19th century New Brunswick, was conceived by Ely M. Tree, a steward at two of Canada’s most prestigious private clubs, the Saint James Club in Montreal and the Union Club in New Brunswick, where he managed the kitchen and dining hall. In his time at these exclusive, gentlemen-only establishments, he came to notice that his clientele would often opt to dine at the club to enjoy meals they lamented they could not get at home. After receiving several requests by inquisitive patrons to divulge his culinary secrets, he decided these questions needed to be addressed with those actually doing the cooking at home -- their wives. In essence, the goal of this handbook was to teach wives how to improve their cooking, making home fare “equal to (that of) the club or high class restaurant” in an effort to entice their husbands to return to the home dining table. Admittedly, it was the title -- The Little Helpmate or How To Keep Husbands at Home – that first piqued my interest. It immediately conjured images of apron-clad women thumbing through the handbook, trying desperately to learn of ways to keep their men at home with food. It seemed so loaded with meaning, especially given my twenty-first century vantage point. What truths could this book reveal about the perception of women in 19th century New Brunswick? How was food deemed capable of “keeping husbands at home”?How different was this cookbook’s approach to food from my own? Or how similar? While it is impossible for historical cookbooks to speak for every person’s lived experience, they can offer us a glimpse of the beliefs, expectations and practices specific to the time and place they were penned. Cookbooks tell stories – about the authors, the audience, the when and where – and a single recipe, from its list of ingredients to its ancillary notes, can speak volumes about the social and economic climate of a given era. With all this in mind, I was eager to discover the story that would unfold through the pages of The Little Helpmate and what this artefact would reveal about the thoughts and appetites of people living on the east coast of Canada over a century ago. As an avid home cook, I was particularly interested in recreating and testing the recipes in The Little Helpmate. Recreating a recipe from a very old cookbook can be a beautiful way of resurrecting something from the past and paying homage to it. For me, it’s a way of honouring a culinary tradition that may have been long forgotten. If cookbooks can provide a glimpse of the socio-cultural narrative of a given era, The Little Helpmate mirrors a set of values that were quintessential to the Victorian period in Canada (as in Britain and the United States). E.M Tree relies heavily on the reader’s understanding and acceptance of the 19th-century ideal of the “successful housekeeper,” where cooking is (or at least, should be) amongst a wife’s central preoccupations. The author laments that while most home cooks are well-versed in the realm of sweets, they overlook the “most important subjects -- soups and meats -- the things which give nourishment and sustain life.” He points to the absence of good cookbooks in the home as a primary source of the problem, with the implication that his handbook will help fill the void. For him, it is crucial that the home cook improve her knowledge of these essential dishes, as he observes, “The need of this is proven by what …