There's no pressure to make these recipes....

Before the days of Instant Pots, home cooks who wanted things cooked quickly relied on pressure cookers, so I find pressure cooker manuals from time to time. I'm not sure when Mirro's Speed Pressure Cooker and Canner booklet came out, but the addresses in it have zip codes, so it's post-July 1963. Mirro was acquired by The Newell Companies in 1983 (at least, if Healthy Canning is to be believed), so it's before that. The cover looks like it's closer to the 1960s than the 1980s.

And I think people in the 1980s might have been at least a tiny bit more adventurous with spices and Mexican flavors than the writers of this booklet were. I mean, as far as I can tell, the only heat in the "Hot Tamales" is the physical heat generated by the pressure cooker.

And I am far from a tamale expert, but doesn't the recipe usually involve a filling wrapped in masa and then a corn husk (or other inedible wrapper) before being steamed? This recipe is basically unsweetened sloppy joe filling on a bun. (And why would you need to pressure cook that in the first place? It's not like sloppy joes are known for being too tough! Even the recipe points out that pressure cooking could actively be a problem, advising cooks, "If mixture is not thick enough, cook it uncovered to evaporate liquid.")

The Mexican Scramble seems at least vaguely more aligned with my limited understanding of Mexican cuisine-- it's got a little chili powder and some corn.

I'm not really sure why a lot of the recipes are included in a pressure cooker book, though, as they seem like they would be better suited for just a regular old cookbook. Take the Saucy Peas and Cucumbers, for instance.

I've always regarded frozen peas as something you add a recipe at the last minute and cook just until they are warmed through. Otherwise, they turn an ugly shade of green and smell like something that got forgotten in your gym locker over Christmas break.  SO WHY WOULD YOU PRESSURE COOK THEM?

And the Macaroni Tuna Casserole is basically the same dish my mom made just in a regular saucepan. 

Cook your pasta. Drain it. Stir in a can of tuna and a can of cream-of-mushroom soup. If you just heat it briefly so the soup and tuna aren't cold, it's done! Why pressure cook it? Hoping the pasta will get extra mushy?

I guess Mirro was succumbing to the same temptation that lured microwave cookbook authors to recommend cooking everything in the microwave--Homemade bread! Whole lobsters! Batches of cookies!-- regardless of whether that was the best appliance for the job. Ignore the stinky, army-green peas and disintegrated macaroni and just be thankful you can use the pressure cooker for everything! Of course, recipes like these might make cooks regret the purchase, but by then, it's too late. Mirro's already got their money.

Don't tell them it's healthy! Unless you do...

In the introductory chapter to Carlton Fredericks Cook Book for Good Nutrition (updated 1974 edition), Fredericks admonishes readers to "never place a dish or a meal before your husband and the children and announce that it's (a) a new one, and (b) good for them." I'm not so sure he believed part b of this rule, though, as he sometimes gave recipes titles that give away the game. (And it was a game because "taking care of oneself ... is essentially a feminine philosophy," and "American men, doubtful of their masculinity, suffer great anxiety when asked to participate in something they consider feminine. They therefore are charter-bound to reject anything that is good for them." I swear, the more I read this book, the more depressingly current it seems...) 

But anyway, don't let them know you're serving something good for them. Just call it Soybean-Bran Yeast Muffins. That name certainly doesn't have the stench of "health food" about it.

Or maybe whip up a nice big Vitamin B Protein Loaf.

Granted, "protein" might not be so bad if the man of the house thinks only in terms of gains. But still, the vitamin B shouldn't lead, and "protein loaf" doesn't exactly have the most appetizing sound. If you're going to eat a meat-based loaf, you probably want to know what kind of meat it is. Presenting it as mystery meat probably isn't the best move.

The next item-- Vitamin-Protein Cookies-- might sound nearly acceptable to the types of guys who now buy things like Lenny & Larry's Complete Cookies (and they are definitely not a sponsor. In case you don't realize, I am kinda making fun of them! Plus, I have, like, 12 readers, so asking me to advertise anything would be a total waste of money.), but 1. the original target audience for this book was not exposed to that kind of marketing, so I'm guessing this title would be a harder sell, and 2. even Lenny & Larry know "complete cookie" sounds better than "vitamin-protein cookie."

Of course, if you're giving the family a cookie that is enjoyed by children primarily for its "chewing exercise" because it consists of nothing more than skim milk solids, wheat germ, a little sugarless sweetener, and whatever variety of baby food the household has on hand (up to and including strained meat), it probably doesn't matter what you call it. I'm guessing most family members will be pretty goddamn resistant.

So maybe Fredericks just ignored his own rules because he realized they may not be particularly helpful--it would take very little effort to deduce that this stuff is supposed to be "healthy"-- and hoped the readers wouldn't catch on until after they bought the book? Or maybe he was just lazy, like I am as I end this post somewhat abruptly. 

A book that made nutrition "great"

Yay! It's once again time for my favorite genre of old cookbook: "health" food cookbooks! This time, we have Carlton Fredericks Cook Book for Good Nutrition (by Carlton Fredericks, obviously; the updated 1974 edition). 

This book's focus seems relatively reasonable compared to some of the other books I've reviewed, encouraging readers to eat fewer empty carbs (especially sugar and refined grains) and more protein. That's not to say it's exactly appetizing, though... Let's see what a day's worth of recipes might look like. 

First of all, breakfast. The chapter offers a lot of drinkable options, as "The child who absolutely refuses to eat anything solid in the morning can usually be cajoled into accepting a glass of something liquid, if it tastes nice." So we will start out with Breakfast Broth.

I didn't really expect a health-food book to recommend starting the day with canned condensed cream soup, but here we are. Will it taste "nice" with the addition of skim-milk solids and brewers' yeast, plus a topping of a hard-cooked egg yolk? That's a matter of individual taste, but still-- I have trouble imagining that this start to the day will really convince a breakfast-avoider of the error of their ways...

For lunch, I consulted "The Best Chapter in the Book." (Yes, that is the actual title of the chapter.) It's about organ meats, so named because Fredericks wants American readers to stop ignoring the cuts because "The organs give the best nutrients." I have no argument against what are more euphemistically known as variety meats-- if you're going to eat  an animal, you should eat the whole thing. I mostly wanted to quote the racist rhetoric that went into the discussion: "More than one adventurer fallen into Arctic wastes or jungle tangles has been brought back to vigorous life by natives who fed him the heart, liver, or kidneys of a fresh-killed animal." Nothing like the story of the noble savage to kill the appetite. But if you still want a little something, have a Liverburger.

You might expect me to accompany this recipe with a one for a salad or vegetable, but surprisingly, the book doesn't offer such recipes! The salad chapter includes a few dressing recipes but simply encourages readers to use them on a salad of "any number, variety, or combination of green leaves... with or without other raw vegetables." As for vegetables, the book has no section of recipes for them either, as "Vegetables taste fine just the way they are-- some of them raw, others briefly cooked to permit the retention of their color and flavor and a decent amount of whatever vitamins and minerals they are born with." So pick whatever veggies you want to go with this-- just don't dress them up too much.

If you get hungry between meals, the book recommends some snack options, like Yogurt Fizz.

Thick, fizzy, and sour. Mmm. Really sounds like a magical combination. If you want something sweeter, the Quick Low-Carbohydrate "Bavarian Cream" is an option (provided you aren't scared away by the scare quotes).

I have to say that "Pour a little low-calorie ginger ale over 2 tablespoonfuls of non-fat milk powder and stir" has to be one of the most pathetic recipes I have ever come across. I'm not sure how anybody could call this a snack OR a recipe.

Maybe we better just go on to dinner: Fredericks' Casserole.

This is clearly NOT a cookbook overly concerned with cholesterol or saturated fat-- as I might have expected given the time period-- as each diner will end up eating a half-cup of ham, two slices of bacon, and an egg along with their sweet potatoes and wheat germ.

And if you must have dessert, Fredericks presents some options, such as this Blender "Betty." (Yep, he really liked scare quotes.)

I assume the "Betty" in the name means this is a play on the traditional brown betty, but such desserts are usually fruit layered with sweetened crumbs and cooked. Puréed fruit mixed with "enough wheat germ to give a pudding consistency" is such an abuse of the term that I might just call the authorities on Fredericks if I knew what authorities would be appropriate to contact AND if he weren't long dead.

Even though Fredericks is dead, though, his spirit lives on! Just like many of our health "authorities" today (not that I have any HHS secretaries in mind), he felt free to present himself as a specialist even though he was not. I found a report from 1964 observing that he had "a criminal record resulting from his posing as an expert in nutrition" and had "no educational qualifications that would make him an expert in the science of nutrition." It's so nice to know that things are just as "great" today as they were 50+ years ago.... 🙄

It's January-- Get Ready to Garden!

A new year means a new seasonally-arranged cookbook! This year, we will be harvesting recipes from Home Gardener's Cookbook (Marjorie Page Blanchard, 1974).

Granted, most of us are not going to be doing a whole lot of gardening in January, but the book offers tips for the reader who will be doing the gardening, and January was apparently the month when the first gardening catalogues started arriving. It's a prime month for planning out what to plant, so most of the chapter is devoted to information for the gardener. There are a few recipes for the cook, though. (The book carefully notes that the gardener and the cook "are not necessarily the same person.")

The recipes are for vegetables that may be left over from last year's garden. I picked Belgian Waterzooie mostly because I was amused by the name, but Blanchard included it because gardeners might still have leeks outside, buried under a protective layer of straw.

The carrots, celery, and onion shouldn't be too hard to come by, as they are often harvested in fall and store well, and the chicken, cream, and egg yolks will make it a substantial meal for a cold night.

The January chapter also recommends Parsnip Soufflé because parsnips get sweeter after a frost. Apparently, the gardener can just leave them out in the cold and dig them out as needed-- at least until the weather warms and turns the parsnips bitter. (And now I know I'm not a parsnip! The cold makes me bitter.)

This eggy dish is recommended as "a nice accompaniment to roast pork or chicken," reminding me that the '70s had its protein-crazed moments too. (Plus, eggs were cheap back then!)

Considering we still have several more months to go before home gardeners are likely to grow much that will be ready to eat (especially considering the book's planting dates are timed to the author's home in Connecticut), I'm wondering how Blanchard is going to fill out those chapters. I guess we will find out when I report back in February. And March. And April. (My guess: an overdose of asparagus and rhubarb.)

A "Fabulous" Finale for the Year

I've got some loose pages with "Betty Baker Tested" headings. I suspect they were from a calendar, as they have a hole in the top of the page-- but if it's a calendar, I don't have any indication of dates. In any case, the year is ending, so we will check out some of the recipes from the "Fabulous Finale Spread" page-- both because it's a finale and because a lot of people eat appetizers for New Year's Eve.

First up, of course, is the titular spread.

It starts out sounding rather cheesecake-esque, with all that cream cheese and sugar. But combine the fear of salmonella from the raw egg yolk and the tinny graininess of canned fruit cocktail, and this takes a turn for the no-thank-you. 

I am also not sure what "thin lemon-scroll-type cookies" might entail. My Google search suggests it might mean rolled-up tubular cookies (like Pirouettes), but it would be hard to spread anything on those-- much less big chunks of fruit cocktail! The picture clearly looks more like it's for a recipe for one of those desserts that can pass as salads in the Midwest than for a spread. 

Our appetizer platter could have a very last bite of Christmas with the Christmas Strawberries (no relation to The Cooking Calendar's Winter Strawberries). 

This offers yet another odd way to ingest cream cheese-- this time mixed with liver sausage, blue cheese, and onion (and mayo as needed), then shaped into "strawberries" before being rolled in "Fine bread crumbs, colored red" and given parsley leaves to help complete the strawberry look. I'm sure that dying bread crumbs red because you need to make fake strawberries is a fine way to end the old year...

To finish off the platter, here's a combination of dippers and dip: Meat Loaf Cubes with Applesauce Dip.

It's for those who want to eat cold meat loaf dipped in a mixture of seasoned applesauce and sour cream... A group that, unsurprisingly, would not include me. But hey-- at least these appetizers could make for a super-easy New Year's Eve party. Just make the recipes well ahead of time, shove everything in the fridge, set the food out on chilled platters as the guests arrive, and you're pretty much done! You probably won't even need to refill anything.

Plus, whatever you eat tomorrow is bound to be better than this! It's an easy way to make sure the new year really will be an improvement-- at least in a very limited way, but we will take what we can get.

Saving the world with gelatin!

The bank account is probably feeling pretty low lately... Grocery prices... Holiday gifts, food etc. The Ghoulies II promo inflatable toilet o' monsters you just couldn't resist on eBay, even though you were already aware of the grocery prices and holiday splurges. (And no, I don't actually own one of them. I'm just thinking of the kind of stuff I'd like to blow my money on to make the post funnier. So if you happen to own an extra one and you'd be willing to let it go for lower-than-eBay prices...) What I'm trying to say is managing money is hard.

But luckily, we can look back at "Knox's Ration-Stretcher Recipes" (undated, but likely from 1943-1945, obviously!) as a way to help stretch our dollars (rather than ration coupons).

If you're shocked by the price of butter, then Knox Spread will make an good substitute. (At least, if Knox is to be trusted with such a proclamation, which I doubt... And also, note that it's a spread. I wouldn't try baking with it!) Double your butter (or margarine, if you want to go even cheaper!) with some Knox gelatin and evaporated milk.

And if you pack it into a lovely glass dish, maybe people will see how much work you put into making the spread and refrain from complaining about how un-butter-like it tastes.

(Of course, now it would be both easier and cheaper to just buy the cheapest margarine sticks and call it a day than to buy gelatin and evaporated milk to add to the base butter. Hello, Imperial!)

Knox's other big idea is the one I write about way more often: using gelatin to help preserve leftover bits! The Basic Vegetable Salad promises "Odds and ends of vegetables transformed into a treat."

You can tell they're serious about using up leftovers, as the vegetable component is very vaguely described: "1-1/2 cups of diced or shredded vegetables (raw or cooked)." Pretty much anything hanging out in the fridge is fair game.

If you want your mold's veggie innards to be slightly more obscured, the Basic Tomato Jelly might be the better choice. Plus it's "A real treat-- brimming with vitamins."

This one can even stretch a cup of diced cooked meat to help serve six people.

Of course, trying to save money this way at the end of 2025 is rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic. Deleting your eBay account and staying away from anything that shows targeted advertisements is probably going to be more effective at helping you save money than trying to stretch everything you eat with gelatin... But at least it's good to know people made it through tough times before, and we can do it again. (Or maybe the world will just implode. Who knows? We could all just be ingested by a gelatinous blob from outer space with the way things have been going.) Here's hoping 2026 will be an improvement!

Some Christmas recipes that should stay in the past

Are you ready to consume Christmas food like a consumer? Consumers Power Company hoped so when they sent out Christmas Recipes 1972.

The booklet only has a few pages of recipes, but because I care, I still managed to put together a holiday menu just for us!

Since it's the holidays, I've got to show off the punch bowl, so we will start with Sea Foam Lime Punch. 

I picked it mostly because I've never seen a punch recipe meant for a festive get-together that included Gatorade among its ingredients. Not sure I want to consider the implications of using it... I mean, am I supposed to assume something will make the guests dehydrated? What kind of Christmas gathering is this? I'm also not really sold on a punch with puréed bananas. They're fine for a smoothie, but the vision of Gatorade topped with a slimy brown banana film after setting out for a while is not nearly as cozy as visions of sugarplums.

Let's just move on to the salad course. You just know it's going to be Jell-O-based if I'm in charge. Will it be a sweet dessert-y confection that relies on a stray lettuce leaf so it's allowed to masquerade as a salad? Nope.

It starts with cherry gelatin, but then it's flavored with catsup and veggified with celery, olives, and peas. At least it calls for frozen peas rather than canned, so it could be worse!

And if you feel like this is missing a little something (by which I mean mayonnaise, which made its way into SO MANY gelatin molds), I've got a special blend to top your salad.

Granted, I despise mayo no matter what, but I doubt that too many mayonnaise lovers really pine for a heaping helping of almond paste blended into their beloved spread.

And now some Christmas sandwiches for the main course. What do you think that might involve? Sandwiches with sliced tomato and lettuce or basil on top, for some red and green? Maybe something involving pickle and pimento loaf? 

How about broiled bologna (or ham) and cheese salad topped with cranberry jelly cutouts? Bet you didn't see that one coming. And the nice thing is that the "Sandwiches may be arranged around the rim of a large plate and decorated with a green bow to resemble a wreath." (Maybe that would be convincing if you have a LOT of imagination and only a vague sense of what a wreath looks like?)

Okay, I'll end with something minty to help get the taste of everything else out of your mouth. I'm not a monster.

I could see this almost as being a clickbait recipe now: Three-Ingredient Christmas Cookies! (if you don't count the sprinkle of sugar)! And if you don't like them, at least they will melt away quickly.

Okay, fine. One last palate cleanser.

Santa with a pinecone beard was just too cute not to share! I love old pictures of crafts that look like they were constructed by an actual human being, down to their scraggly pompons and wandering googly eyes. Here's hoping your holiday season (or just December) is as full of charm as this little guy. (And a lot LESS full of ketchup-y gelatin than this menu.)