An awkward family photo and exciting news from Robin

I got a copy of Kitchen-Klatter Magazine from near the end of their run-- July 1983. (You can see the whole series here.) I love the fabulously awkward photo that graces the cover.

I don't think anybody wanted to be there, but Elizabeth is the only one young enough to be honest about it. (Unrelated, but it's also good to know that the recipient received her copy on June 28.)

This little magazine consists of lengthy letters from various people who (maybe?) meant something to the original readers, articles with titles like "Save the Handkerchief," "Brief Encounter with a Wagon Train," and "The Sunday School Corner." (Hot tip: Most of the songs (like "This Little Light of Mine") should be geared to the pre-schoolers, but you can throw in one of the more difficult songs like "How Great Thou Art" to try to keep the older kids engaged.)

It also includes four pages of recipes. I learned that before Ben & Jerry's was popular, the idea of lemon-cheesecake ice cream was very different from what it is now. 

No tiny chunks of actual cheesecake or graham-cracker-crust swirls! Just some cottage cheese added to the lemony ice cream mixture to give it a little extra tang.

I also learned that watermelon was sometimes whipped up into a chiffon (even if I'm more familiar with chocolate, pumpkin, or orange varieties).

But there was one main thing I learned from these four little pages of recipes.

ROBIN

GOT

A MICROWAVE

AND

WANTS

EVERYBODY TO KNOW!

So, congrats on the microwave, Robin! I hope the bran muffins were not nearly as rubbery as I imagine they were. And I don't really understand using dry non-dairy creamer in the carrots and broccoli, but you do you!

Cooking with an enthusiastic Aloha

Aloha! I picked up Cooking with Aloha (Joyce Mondoy for Hawaii Foodbank, Inc., undated) mostly because I was enchanted with Brett K. Waipa's illustrations of Aloha.

From the big, dopey grin to the hole in the middle (Must be helpful on days with a lot of recipe testing! There's always room for more.) to the stumpy little legs, the dude is pretty endearing. So for this booklet, we will check out Aloha's appearance on the title page for a chapter and then go over one or two of the most Hawaiian-seeming recipes from the section. 

The book, fittingly enough, starts out with a chapter on salads and pupus.

Aloha is taking "tossed salads" very literally! My favorite thing about this might just be that it's easy to forget he's supposed to be the letters A-L-O-H-A stacked on top of each other (since a big chunk of his body is covered by the jersey). This makes his legs especially puzzling. I can't imagine him running two steps without falling over. I am no sports expert, but I still can't help but think this would be a severe disadvantage in football...

The most interesting recipe in this chapter just might be the Papaya Seed Dressing.

Being a Midwesterner with very limited exposure to tropical fruits, I had no idea papaya seeds were even edible, but apparently they are! Easier to eat when they're ground down to "the size of ground pepper," though.

And if you wondered whether Hawaiians had the same fondness for Jell-O based salads as mainlanders, fear not! This chapter also features an Avocado and Gelatin Salad.

I'm pretty sure I'd prefer the Avocado and Lime Pie from the Pieathalon to this, though! Cream cheese sounds way better than mayonnaise in this mixture.

Next up is the breads chapter.

Aloha is so entertained by his "rolling in the dough" joke that he doesn't seem concerned that the rolling pin and oven seem to be wildly out of scale with each other, or that everything is just about to fall on his head. 

What kind of bread might you make in Hawaii? While there are the old standbys like bran muffins and zucchini bread, I was most interested by Avocado Bread.

I thought it might be pretty similar to zucchini bread recipes, but this has no cinnamon, salt, or vanilla, so I wonder if it would be rather bland... (I'm sure it wouldn't matter to Aloha, though. He's enthusiastic about everything!)

Speaking of enthusiasm, he's fully in 8-year-old "sharing" mode for the chapter on cakes.

You can have a tiny slice. Aloha will polish off the rest! I'm sure people expect a fruity, tropical cake from this chapter, so here's Hawaiian Pineapple Carrot Cake for you. 

I'm not really sure what sets this apart from the carrot cakes we bake in the Midwest. (My recipe has pineapple too!) So I'm going to include a second recipe-- one that seems much more regional to me: Cocoa Mochi.

I'm guessing that mochi would have seemed pretty exotic for a lot of mainstream Midwesterners until fairly recently (and I'd still have to go to a specialty store or order online to get mochiko!), so this seems much more unique to the island than the recipe with Hawaii in the name.

Aloha is a real fan of sweets! The cakes aren't enough, so we'll look at pies and desserts next.

One thing that the mainland and Hawaii had in common: weight jokes. (Sigh.) The scales are not too excited that Aloha is into the sugar again. I'm representing this chapter with something typically Midwestern (chiffon pie) crossed with something Hawaiian (lilikoi). 

I was really curious about what "lilikoi" might be, but it turns out it's something I have heard of! It's the Hawaiian word for passionfruit. At least that means that mainlanders can make it if we want to.

We'll top off all these (mostly) desserts with a main dish.

I'm trying to decide whether Aloha is a sloppy eater or growing a weird mustache. (Maybe both?) In any case, he just might eat his napkin too if he doesn't pay attention...

And what might he be chowing down on? Well, it's fishy, as you might expect, given that he lives on an island.

But it's salmon loaf (from canned salmon)! The thing that sets this apart from the typical Midwestern version is that this incorporates tofu and shoyu with the more common ingredients like veggies, eggs, and bread crumbs. (Plus, honestly, I couldn't resist including a recipe that starts out with the crossed-out sentence "Beat eggs; add vanilla, mushroom soup, shoyu, oil, salt." Where did the vanilla come from? And why is this recipe ALL CAPS?)

I'm sure Aloha doesn't care about the inconsistency. He's just glad to be here and to wish you aloha.

Funny Name: Fo' Jonni

I had to read this recipe title from Ground Beef Cookbook (Favorite Recipes Press, 1967) several times, and it made me laugh every time.

My guess is that Mrs. Emma Frances McCluskey wanted a recipe for Johnny Marzetti, but didn't really understand the name when she wrote it down. I swear, if this cookbook was from the early 2000s, I'd think the title was made up by a midwestern mom who really wanted her kids to like Johnny Marzetti, noticed kids were saying things like "fo' shizzle," and decided to try to make it sound cool by changing the name to "Jonni-Majarizy" (without fully understanding where "fo' shizzle" trend came from because then she definitely wouldn't have played along).

Carbin' in South Carolina

Myrtle Beach Cookin' (United Methodist Women of First United Methodist Church in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, 1977) is a bit unusual. Most of the fundraising community cookbooks I see tend to be one-and-done deals.

But this book is from the 1994 fifth printing. This must have been pretty popular!

One thing that impressed me about this collection is the devotion to carbs. Some entries introduced me to carbs I'd never heard of before, like this recipe for Stuff 'n Such Hot Dogs.

What the hell was "Uncle Ben's stuff 'n such"? Apparently, it was an early and short-lived competitor for Stove Top stuffing mix. The recipe's persistence in the collection suggests the collection was not updated for subsequent printings.

Sometimes, the recipes are very practical, intent on saving carbs from getting stale or moldy. Got too many hot dog buns? Turn them into seasoned bread sticks!

These are basically just long, skinny croutons flavored with "crazy salt," lemon pepper, curry powder, and a stick and a half of margarine so they can "keep a long time."

Some of the recipes use carbs in non-standard ways. I didn't really expect to see mashed potato flakes turned into a dessert-y pie filling...

And yet, here they are, mixed with eggs, sugar, and lemon instant pudding, along with the more standard ingredients to reconstitute potato flakes. (And this is called "Irish Potato Pie" not to suggest that it's for St. Patrick's Day, but to let people know not to expect sweet potato pie!)

There are appetizer carbs coated in a layer of carbs to superficially resemble a fancy (and carby) sweet snack.

I was not expecting the bread cubes to be coated with a "frosting" of cheese, butter, and Tabasco bound with flour, but that's exactly what these are. (I'll bet I would agree with the assessment that they are "delicious," though.)

In case you want something a little lighter, I will end this with a vegetable recipe. (Still carbs, but they're considerably watered down in veggie form!) I kind of expected Mrs. Misey's Cucumbers and Onions to be a cool, salad-y preparation, perhaps with the titular veggies marinated in an oil-and-vinegar-based dressing in the fridge for a few hours before serving. Nope!

They're sliced up, layered, and cooked in a sauce that's half Ketchup and half chili sauce. (Not really sure why one merits capitalization and the other does not, but the stylistic choice adds interest.) I'm also not really sure why anyone would want hot cucumbers and onions under a slick of hot tomato-based condiments, but again, the choices got my interest.

I guess life on the beach can really spur an appetite for carby goodness! As can life in the Midwest when you're holed up inside for the winter... So I guess my point really is just that carbs are good. (Unless they're cooked under a layer of Ketchup and chili sauce.)

Ground beef gets patriotic

Ground Beef Cookbook (Favorite Recipes Press, 1967) opens with a "Ground Beef Favorites from First Ladies" chapter. For America's 250th birthday, let's check some of those patriotic ground beef recipes out. 

The president at the time was LBJ, so his wife submitted Pedernales River Chili. I had never heard of Pedernales River before, so now you know I'm not from Texas.

This has no beans-- as Texas chilis DO NOT include them. It also use Ro-Tel tomatoes, so it may have been a little spicier than mainstream midwestern readers were used to. I thought the six teaspoons (Why not just say two tablespoons?) of chili powder sounded pretty substantial for back then, but then I realized that it is mixed into four pounds of meat... So maybe not quite as seasoned as I thought. Still, I appreciate that this recipe seems like it could plausibly be a chili recipe a Texan might use-- not some midwestern bullshit "chili" made of catsup and kidney beans or hamburger with cream of mushroom soup.

Mrs. Hubert Humphrey (the vice-president's wife) offered Dinner-in-a-Dish.

I see various recipes with this title all the time, and they tend to rely on hamburger, long-lasting vegetables that the family is likely to have on hand, and canned vegetables, just as this one does. I guess this was Mrs. Hubert Humphrey's way of seeming practical and relatable.

The section also features recipes from the wives of the governors of about half the states, and there is quite a bit of overlap. (The Massachusetts recipe is also "Dinner-in-a-Dish," nearly identical except that it uses five tablespoons of butter instead of four of shortening, and it bakes at 350 for 45 minutes.)

There are a lot of meat loaves, too. The Governor's Meat Loaf tries to sound interesting by mentioning the governor, but it's still pretty standard.

We could definitely have gotten a more interesting regional specialty from Louisiana! The most interesting meat loaf recipe in this section is the uncredited "Crazy Meat Loaf."

It's crazy because it features a vein of mixed vegetables and cheese down the middle. I'm not sure whether the editors forgot to credit the contributor or whether they didn't have enough recipes from politicians' wives and just threw this one in (along with a photo!) to fill out the pages. 

I imagine it would look even crazier if it were actually in color. 

The wives of governors from the upper midwest predictably offered some "Hot Dish" recipes, like this one from Montana...

...and this one from North Dakota.

I always associate hot dish with tater tots, though, so I was kind of disappointed not to find any in the hot dish offerings! Tater tots have been around since the 1950s, so they definitely existed by the time this book was published. Maybe they're most associated with Minnesota, though, and the book didn't have a recipe for Minnesota.

Some recipes seemed very fitting for the areas they came from. I could have guessed Tamale Pie was from Arizona. 

(And this has two tablespoons of chili powder for two pounds of meat!)

Crunchy Oriental Meatballs?

Even though this doesn't have pineapple, I still could have guessed Hawaii.

And while "Hickel's Hash" doesn't really conjure up much of a mental image on its own...

The simple mixture of things you probably already have on hand does seem pretty practical for a place like Alaska, where you're liable to be snowed in anyway.

Some recipes had me scratching my head, though. I expected Hamburger Fiesta to have some Mexican spices and be from somewhere in the southwest. 

But it's basically just a recipe for sloppy joes from North Carolina. (This makes 48 servings, though, so maybe Mrs. Dan K. Moore was just thinking about the "feast" aspect without realizing the additional overtones that come with the word "fiesta"?)

And then there is a recipe for tacos that are so bland, I would have assumed they were from Indiana.

Absolutely no seasonings in the beef aside from onion, bacon drippings, tomatoes, and a "Dash of Picante." You could nearly as credibly consider this to be the start of a (bland) spaghetti sauce. And yet, this is from Texas. (I imagine Texans were relieved they had Mrs. LBJ's chili to represent them front and center, so perhaps fewer people would notice this recipe was also supposed to represent them.)

I imagine that current politicians and their spouses are less likely to have recipes at the ready to send out whenever someone asks for one (and I can't help suspecting that those who do might now simply send out recipes provided to them by a food-related industry in their state). Maybe this shift  is a sign that we're a little less sexist, not necessarily expecting all political spouses to be women or that they will have an interest in cooking. Maybe it's because the average person is less likely to do any substantial cooking now anyway, and they can easily find recipes on the internet if they do want to cook something. Maybe it's because even food is so partisan that sending out a recipe would risk alienating too many potential voters. (Being vegan and hating on vegans are both nearly industries in their own right, and that's only one example.) I don't really have any meaningful reflection on all of this, beyond the obvious that things change over time. The important thing is to think about which changes are for the better, and which are for the worse, and what we can/ should do to get a raise the percentage of changes for the better. So happy 250th, America! 🎆 I hope we figure out a way to change more productively than we have lately... 

A Royal Pain

All-American Royal Desserts (Standard Brands Incorporated) has such a patriotic cover that I thought it might be for America's bicentennial, but it's actually from 1968-- a few years too early.

And as I flipped through, I was dismayed (but not particularly surprised) to see it celebrating a dark chapter in our history.

It is interesting to know that Royal Lemon Flavor Pie Filling apparently included a "flavor capsule" that might not dissolve without special prompting, though.

The booklet has an extremely expansive definition of cake. When we're talking desserts, I don't think it's unreasonable to expect some flour-and-sugar-based concoction at the very least. Even if we're being more expansive-- like salmon cakes or rice cakes-- people usually expect them to at least be solid. Nobody hears Peach-Pineapple Upside-Down Cake and imagines this:

Well, nobody except Royal, obviously. They apparently didn't think they could sell this as a salad. Maybe they figured people were getting tired of gelatin-based desserts (even though my cookbook collection would suggest otherwise!) and thought calling it a cake was the way to go? By the time guests who had been promised cake realized they were actually getting gelatin, it was too late to object...

There's even a layer "cake." (Okay, the other one had layers too, but one is meant to represent the peach-pineapple topping and I'd say the other is meant as the "cake." This one is all "cake.")

And if you pay attention to the colors of the layers, you can probably guess that this is billed as "Citrus Cake."

The booklet isn't all fake cakes, though. There's an attempt to highlight a brand-new product-- pistachio pudding mix. (I assumed that Jell-O created pistachio pudding, but it was actually Royal in 1966.) This recipe doesn't sound bad-- just like it was probably a real pain in the ass to make, and more likely to result in a mess than to be the cute little individual servings the recipe developers envisioned.

I've always thought chocolate and pistachio pudding were a great combination that most people don't seem to think about. Here, they're combined, but I can't imagine Pistachio Cups coming out well. I have never tried peeling thin chocolate shells filled with pistachio pudding out of paper cups, but I can already imagine bits of broken chocolate cups and globs of pistachio pudding covering the work surface... I initially wondered why the instructions didn't say to make the chocolate cups, remove them from the paper, and then fill the cups with pudding. That seems like it would be way less messy. But then I realized the instructions are probably an implicit admission the recipe is unlikely to work very well. The recipe writers probably realized the cups might have holes in them and/or crack on being removed from the paper cups, so trying to fill them with pudding after they've already been removed would obviously be a losing proposition. Better to get the cooks to actually use the pistachio pudding mix before they realize the whole recipe is a waste of time.

Other recipes seem mainly fine, at least until you get to some weird little twist. I'd expect a recipe for a whipped-cream-topped chiffon pie, for instance, but what is with the weird brownish lumps in this pie's topping?

If you remembered that prune whip used to be a popular dessert, give yourself 50 bonus points. This is Orange Chiffon Pie with Prune Topping.

I'm certainly not opposed to a flavored whipped cream, but I doubt "prune" is at the top of anyone's list of flavors they would request...

And of course, this post would be incomplete without at least one terrifying "salad." The picture may not look too bad if you're only half-paying attention...

But then you'll look closer and think the mold looks kind of lumpy, and the topping on the cream is not walnut halves, but ...

Shrimp! Yes, Lime-Cheese Salad with Shrimp Sauce combines sweet lime gelatin with lumpy cottage cheese and disconcerting onion, mayo, and horseradish before plunking a blob of shrimp salad into the middle. That's 1960s "cooking" at its "finest."

This booklet should make you think twice about wanting the Royal treatment... I don't want to leave you with a bad taste, though, so I'll end with a picture of the back cover (really just because I am a sucker for pictures of old products, and I assume anybody who shows up here shares my weakness).

I love that the Burgerbits for dogs hung out with the coffee and tea.