Noodle Therapy

I thought it might be time to dust off my favorite behemoth collection, Good Housekeeping's Cook Books (1958). Browsing the Egg and Cheese Spaghetti and Rice Dishes booklet, I noticed a certain trend emerging. The drawings accompanying the recipes suggested that Mom had a really tough time with the simplest of egg-related tasks. Ask her to make a variation of deviled eggs, and, well...

She somehow decided she had to make them out of dinosaur eggs, apparently, breaking into an enormous scowl as she tried to break into that enormous shell, enlisting the help of the happily oblivious kids to bring her stacks of supplies twice their heights.

If she wanted to turn those deviled eggs into weird little individual casseroles, that was an even bigger challenge.

She'd have to whip out the welding mask and forge her mini-casseroles from the very fires of hell (along with some shrimp, mushrooms, milk, and cheese).

But mom had no trouble with noodle dishes, no matter what the challenge. Is the chicken not quite ready to be combined with spaghetti?

No problem! Mom will just charm it right into the pot! (That is, as long as it's a noodly dinner and not chicken soufflé...)

Has a gunman broken into the kitchen while she's trying to cook?

No big deal! As long as she's making spaghetti to go with the spareribs, mom doesn't mind if he shoots up the kitchen. (Okay, I realize it's a starter pistol and the picture is implying she's just being timed, not threatened, but go with my premise! Or at least admit that she should be more concerned about a starter pistol going off in the kitchen.)

Anyway, I guess the moral of the story is that '50s women who couldn't afford Miltown just had to make a whole lot of spaghetti. The carbs must have calmed them down. Maybe that's why spaghetti was so beloved by Wednesday's Jaycee wives.