Somewhere in heaven, a woman in a homespun linen dress is laughing under her white cotton cap -- and not because a fellow angel told a good joke. Rather, she's watching me as I attempt to turn the floured pieces of chicken I've got frying in a bath of hot lard without getting any (more) ashes in the pan. A nice breeze has kicked up on this brilliantly sunny Saturday morning at Woodville Plantation in Collier, sending up an occasional puff of powdery residue from the hot coals under the three-legged, cast-iron "spider" the chicken is cooking in.

I try, but it's not easy keeping it from settling on top of the sizzling meat, assuring that the dish will not only smell slightly woodsy but also taste so, too. Oh, well. Maybe wood ash is loaded with nutrients.

At least I didn't have to show up at the crack of dawn to build the hardwood fire that would generate the hot coals on which everyone in this, Woodville's first 18th-century cooking class this past October, would cook on. That job fell on the competent shoulders of instructor-cum-Colonial re-enactor Rob Windhorst. Nor would we be charged with the tedious task of fetching the countless buckets of water from a well on the property that we'd need for cooking and cleaning.

		This week's podcast Hear PG food editor Bob Batz, dining critic China Millman and staff writer Gretchen McKay chat about cooking, Colonial-style, in Dining In, Dining Out.

Cooking a meal today is often as easy as throwing a steak on the gas grill or boiling a pot of spaghetti on the stove. But in Colonial times, preparing the midday dinner -- the day's largest and most elaborate meal -- was an hours-long affair that began as soon as there was enough light to see to work. Without refrigeration, all foods not only had to be in season but also cooked that day. If the menu called for chicken, someone would have to kill the bird, and then clean and pluck it before chopping it into pieces. Only breakfast and supper were relatively easy, since they were warmed-up leftovers.

Revolutionary War hero John Neville, who in the late 1770s built this rural plantation along what is now Route 50, was wealthier than most. So those jobs likely would have fallen on slave labor.

On the day of the class, the six of us students -- each working with a partner on two or three "receipts," as recipes were called -- would do most of the grunt work using a variety of reproduction cooking utensils, Dutch ovens, cast-iron pots and earthenware bowls. Hence the flurry of activity as we jockeyed, ever so politely, for the limited number of knives and other tools needed for slicing apples and onions, scraping carrots, and grating small kernels of nutmeg into powder.

"It's kind of crazy at the beginning, but as the pieces come together, it calms down," said Mr. Windhorst, president of Neville Historical Associates, which operates the Woodville site as a historical house museum. The biggest challenge, he noted, is timing everything so it can served warm at the appropriate time.

The goal of the class, which will be offered again April 26, was pretty straightforward: to prepare, plate and serve an 18th-century meal from scratch on an 18th-century timetable. We'd also learn something about dining customs and the social aspects of a meal, which varied widely depending on social status and wealth.

Given that the Nevilles were quite wealthy, this meal would be fairly fancy, with 10 separate dishes: everything from roast pork and the aforementioned chicken fricassee to steamed mussels, onion soup and a dessert of sugary lemon curd. And like the kitchenware used to prepare them, the recipes were all authentic, culled from the likes of Hannah Glasse, the most successful cookery writer of the 18th century.

Fending off the ashes was but one of many challenges. As was custom 200 years ago, recipes didn't include proper measurements. So we had to guess on the exact amounts of some of the ingredients. For instance, a recipe for onion soup called for a piece of bread as "big as the top of a penny-loaf cut small." And because Colonial cooks didn't have kitchen thermometers, we had to eyeball the various dishes to determine when they were done. Further complicating matters was the whole open-fire thing. As Mr. Windhorst explained, the heat had to be constant to cook the food thoroughly and evenly, meaning the coals we placed on top of the Dutch ovens and set the spiders above had to be constantly refreshed as they cooled. And did I mention it gets really, really hot near an open hearth?

In addition, Mr. Windhorst had to remind us more than once not to grab the hot handles with our bare hands, but to instead use a cast-iron hook. Somehow, though, we managed to pull it all together. And three and a half hours later, the food was ready to be served in the plantation's bright verdigris dining room -- the "Missus" at one end of the table, and the "Master" at the other.

Dining customs were starting to change in the Colonies when the Nevilles took residence at Woodville. Service in the French style, or service a la francaise, where all the food was served at once, in exactly prescribed locations, was giving way to service a la russe, the Russian-style tradition of serving dishes one at a time, in a set order. Napkins, a little less than a yard square, would have been worn around the neck as a bib.

Woodville, however, was still very much a rural plantation, so the protocol would have been a little less formal. Yet guests still would have "parleyed" over dinner, as conversation was an important way of finding out what was going on in the world.

Served with the requisite pomp and circumstance -- that is to say, by costumed "servants" -- the meal was nothing short of grand. In all, we enjoyed five courses over an hour.

We even washed down the dishes the way they did back in the day -- either with Portuguese port or madeira, a sweet wine fortified with brandy, or a 2001 chardonnay from Jefferson Vineyards, a winery in Charlottesville that occupies Thomas Jefferson's original 1774 vineyards.

Our day was long, hot and hard on the waistline. And to be honest, cooking with lard instead of the olive oil I'm used to played havoc with my digestive system; my stomach wasn't just full -- it hurt.

But as I laid down my linen napkin and got ready to rush back into this century, where my daughters' soccer game awaited, I came to this realization. I very much enjoyed myself. Ashes and all.

Woodville Plantation will offer Woodville 101: Taste of the 18th Century "Dine with the Nevilles" on April 26 from 9 a.m. to 2 p.m.

Cost is $65 (or $45 for members) and includes dinner at the "period correct" hour of 2 p.m. Another class will be scheduled if this one sells out. For more information, call 412-221-0348 or visit www.woodvilleplantation.org.

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As with most 18th-century recipes, this one for fried chicken from Colonial Williamsburg is slightly vague: "To fricasse a chicken: You must take your chickens, and do not skin the chickens, and cut them into small pieces, and rub them over with yolks of eggs. Have ready some grated bread, a little beaten mace, and a little grated nutmeg mixed together, and then roll them in it; put a little butter in a stew-pan, and when it is melted put in your meat. Fry it a fine brown and take care they do not stick to the bottom of the pan." Here, a modern interpretation:

• 5 cups plain bread crumbs
• 1 whole chicken, cut into small pieces
• 2 blades of mace, beaten or ground, or 1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg
• 1/2 nutmeg, grated, or 1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
• 6 egg yolks, beaten
• 1 pound lard or enough oil to fill two inches in pan

In a large bowl, mix together bread crumbs and spices. Dip chicken pieces in beaten egg yolk, and then dredge in bread mixture. Put lard or oil in a heavy skillet, and allow to heat. When oil is hot enough, a drop of water should bead and crackle when dropped in the pan. Slowly fry the chicken, turning frequently, until brown and cooked through (165 degrees with a meat thermometer).

Serves 4.

-- Colonial WilliamsburgHannah Glasse's "The Art of Cookery Made Plain and Easy" (1745; reprinted 1796) was the most popular cookbook in 18th-century London. It stressed the basics -- good ingredients and simple techniques. "Put your mushrooms in salt and water, wipe with a flannel and put them again in salt and water, then throw them in a sauce-pan by themselves and let them boil up as quick as possible, then put in a little Cayenne pepper, a little mace (if you like the flavor), let them stew in this a quarter of an hour, then add a tea-cupful of cream, with a little flour and butter the size of a walnut; let them be servid [sic] up as soon as done."

Here's how to do it today.

• 1 8-ounce container (or 2 of them) of fresh mushrooms
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 1/2 teaspoon of cayenne pepper
• 1 or 2 of mace beaten, or 1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg
• 1/2 cup cream
• 1 1/2 tablespoons butter
• 1 tablespoon flour

Trim mushrooms and rub clean with a damp cloth. Put mushrooms in small saucepan with 1/2 teaspoon salt and enough water to cover. Rinse and drain them and place them again in enough water to cover and 1/2 teaspoon salt. Bring quickly to a boil and add cayenne pepper and mace or nutmeg. Reduce heat and simmer for 15 minutes, or until mushrooms are tender. Add cream and butter and mix well. Add flour (sprinkle) slowly while stirring. Cook for a couple of minutes, until thoroughly heated and blended.

Serve hot on squares or rounds of buttered toast.

Serves 4.

-- Adapted from "The Art of Cookery Made Plain and Easy" by Hannah Glasse

• 1/2 pound butter (2 sticks)
• 10 medium-sized sweet onions (like Vidalias), peeled and finely sliced
• 1/4 cup flour
• Stale bread crusts
• Salt
• 2 egg yolks, beaten
• 1/2 teaspoon vinegar

Melt butter in a large stew pan over medium-high heat. Add sliced onion and cook for 15 minutes, or until onions are tender. After that, stir occasionally until onions are dark mahogany and reduced to approximately 4 cups.

Shake in a little flour, and cook a few minutes longer. Add 4 cups water and stir. Take a piece of crust and throw it in the soup. Season to taste with salt. Turn heat on high, and bring soup to boil. Allow to boil for 10 minutes, stirring often. Take off the fire and have ready the beaten yolks, mixed with the vinegar. Mix some of the soup into the yolk-vinegar mixture, then stir back into the soup. Mix well.

Serves 10 to 12.

-- Adapted from "The Art of Cookery Made Plain and Easy" by Hannah Glasse

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• 1 pound super-fine sugar
• 1 pound apples, pared, cored and cut in half
• Juice of 2 lemons
• Lemon peel, cut into thin threads

Add sugar to a quart of water, and place on high heat. Bring mixture to a boil. Add apples and once again bring to a boil. Reduce heat, and cook at a low simmer for 30 to 35 minutes, or until apples are tender but not falling apart. Add lemon juice and lemon peel and cook for another 5 minutes.

Place cooked apples in a dish and allow to cool for 2 hours before serving.

Serves 4 to 6.

-- "The Compleat Housewife" by Eliza Smith (1742)

This delightful dessert is as easy to make as it is sugary sweet.

• 4 large lemons, juiced
• 1 cup water
• 1 pound refined sugar
• Whites of 7 eggs
• 1 egg yolk, beaten
• Peel of one lemon

In large sauce pan, whisk together lemon juice, water, sugar, egg whites and egg yolk until smooth. Bring to a simmer over medium-high heat, stirring continuously. Add lemon peel. Cook until thickened, approximately 8 minutes, or until mixture is light yellow and coats the back of a spoon. Do not boil. Take out the lemon peel.

Remove from heat and pour the mixture into china dishes. Refrigerate until serving.

Serves 4.

-- "The Art of Cookery Made Plain and Easy" by Hannah Glasse