Big dreams for dried herbs

I often make fun of old cookbooks for printing recipes almost devoid of seasonings (such as "chili" that is clearly just misnamed vegetable soup), but spices did exist, even in mid-20th-century America.

Spices of the World Cookbook by McCormick (Mary Collins, copyright 1964, 1976 reprint) unsurprisingly makes sure there's plenty of seasoning in every recipe. Some of them are quite sophisticated.

I know I'd never find Truffled Chicken Breasts Elégante in a church potluck cookbook.

Sometimes it seems like the recipes are trying a little too hard, though. This one splits the difference between "Elégante" and church potluck cookbook for a wholly unnatural concoction:

Has anyone ever really thought the best use for champagne is to make it into a gelatin topped with a second gelatin consisting of spiced cream cheese, canned pineapple, and limeade?

My favorite feature of the book might just be its overselling the virtues of dried herbs. Yes, dried herbs can be a great addition to soups, stews, and other juicy, long-cooking dishes. If herbs are an important component of something with a short cook, though, maybe McCormick's dried versions aren't the best bet...

Of course, diners might think of these Herb-Broiled Sandwiches as grilled cheese with bacon and tomato, so they might not really notice the dusty dried-herb flavor.

If you offer a Cheese Omelette aux Herbes, however...

...well, diners will definitely expect fresh herbs-- not a teaspoon of dried parsley flakes and another of Season-All (seasoned salt). Sorry, McCormick, but an Omellete aux Herbes is not exactly something you can deliver.

I'll finish today's post with a dessert. If you're excited about the prospect of Rum Buns, though, remember the book.

You're not getting any rum in Rum Buns-- just some powdered sugar mixed with a bottle of rum extract and dumped liberally over and on some hot roll mix.

I've got to appreciate this book for encouraging more seasoning in its mostly-salt-and-pepper time, but just like synthetic fabrics didn't make '60s models into astronauts, a teaspoon of dried parsley doesn't make eggs into an omelette aux fines herbes. Both notions would make me laugh 50-some years later, though.