When I introduced The Science of Food and Cookery (H. S. Anderson, 1921), I promised/ threatened that we'd check out some casserole recipes. I love reading casserole recipes anyway, but it will be really interesting to see what cooks did 100+ years ago when they weren't trying to stretch the meat (as this is a vegetarian cookbook) or able to throw in a can of cream of mushroom or cream of celery soup as a binder (as these soups weren't available yet and Anderson probably wouldn't have approved of them even if they were). So what was on the menu?
I'm starting with spaghetti in tomato, even though it's technically not a casserole, but a one-pot meal.
I'm sure that the first step, "Break the spaghetti into inch lengths," probably has some readers apoplectic. It probably doesn't help that the sauce is a barely-seasoned tomato pulp thickened with a roux. My favorite part of the recipe may be that the spaghetti is boiled "until thoroughly done" and then added to the sauce and simmered "until it is of a consistency to dish up and not run on the platter." This sounds like code for cooking the spaghetti until it's practically melted into the sauce-- definitely not the al dente texture modern readers are accustomed to.
Also, if you're wondering about the cream roast flour in the ingredients, it's not nearly as exotic as you might think it is. It's just flour toasted in the oven but removed before it turns brown.
As far as the spaghetti goes, it fits my casserole theme because there is an actual casserole-ish dish that references Spaghetti in Tomato: Baked Spaghetti en Croustade.
So yes, once the spaghetti has been cooked until it's more of a gel than a solid, combine it with a cream sauce (as it's sure to need more liquid), top with hard-boiled eggs and parsley, then seal up the whole thing under a pie crust, as surely noodles need to be paired with additional starch.
Also in the world of questionably Italian dishes, the book offers Scalloped Vegetable Oysters Italienne:
I guess the fact that this uses macaroni is enough to earn it the "Italienne" in the title? Otherwise, there's little about salsify and (likely overcooked) macaroni in cream that seems overtly Italian to me.
I was a bit surprised to see a Tamale Pie on offer, supposing that a book that avoids seasonings would have no use for such a recipe.
And this concoction consisting primarily of various unseasoned chopped or ground vegetables (with a bit of Nuttose for protein) might suggest that I was correct to be skeptical. Just in case you are inclined to generosity and suspect that the tamale mush used to top the pie might bring in the needed flavor, here's the recipe for the topper:
To its credit, it does have more flavor than plain cornmeal boiled in salted water would have, but it's mostly flavored with the same vegetables that are already in the filling, so it's not like this adds much.
The saddest casserole may just be the Ribbon Bean Loaf.
Yes, the alternating layers of greenish bean purée and reddish bean purée might look kind of neat, but the appearance is probably the most exciting thing about this one. Diners better hope there's a killer cream tomato sauce or gravy to make this brick-o-beans go down a little smoother.
I do sometimes make fun of old cookbooks' reliance on cans of cream-of-something soup, but that comes partly from secret love of the stuff. These recipes seem like they could benefit from an infusion of cream-of-something-- even the ones like tamale pie where it really shouldn't work! At least the soup would bring some fat and salt to otherwise austere recipes.
Isn't it amazing how much work people put into creating truly awful food? Now there are scientists who work on finding ways to make food taste so good that it's addictive. Apparently there's no happy medium.
ReplyDeletePeople do love to go to extremes!
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