A matter of perspective

 There's no recipe for today because I couldn't resist commenting on the strange moralizing on the back cover of Better Homes and Gardens Recipes for Entertaining (1972). 

What could happen if you don't use the cookbook to plan your next party?

That's right, you'll be "The unorganized hostess who should have done some planning," hair up in curlers, food boiling over, dirty pots and pans scattered everywhere, colander draining on the counter because there's no room in the sink.

My moralizing caption would be more like "Person who invited guests over wishes she would have had the foresight to realize she'd prefer an evening alone with her lovely cat."

Those who heed the book's instructions have a picture-perfect evening to look forward to, at least according to Better Homes and Gardens.

Yes, she's "An organized hostess who is prepared when guests arrive," her hair perfectly coiffed, martinis ready to mix, pots and pans under control, and the salad requiring only a last-minute toss.

Of course, my caption might be a bit different for this one too: "Organized party planner blissfully unaware that guests resent her smug ass."

If you want to do some moralizing, Better Homes and Gardens, then I get to do some too. And as you celebrate the last few days of 2024, reader, enjoy them however you see fit-- even if you're happiest home alone with a lovely cat.

A Consumers Power Christmas

Happy Wednesday to all, and merry Christmas if you celebrate! Today, we'll party by looking at Christmas Recipes (Consumers Power Company, 1969).

I love the image of Santa cooking on his avocado-green stovetop. He's fancy, too, with the cutting-edge-for-1969 microwave above the range. I'm kind of worried that he might have blood splatter on the oven doors (both conventional and microwave). Maybe he was trying to inspire the holiday slasher movies that were still a few years away? Santa really was cutting-edge!

Okay, enough with the Santa slander... (I won't even mention his uncomfortable-looking and unsafe stirring method or the odd choice to put a huge, hot appliance in the middle of the room rather than, say, against a wall.) Let's look at some of the promised Christmas recipes. I was shocked to see that this small booklet (quite possibly distributed for free) from the late 1960s had color photos, so we're going to enjoy the meal recommended in those photos.

We'll start out with the beverage, so heavenly it's apparently attended by an angel. 

The yellow hue may suggest this is egg nog, but it's not! (The clump of orange rind floating in the middle is a clue to its identity...)

It's Citrus Punch with Frozen Orange Mold! (The rind is supposed to be a flower.) This concoction is basically fancied up orange-grapefruit juice. I wasn't sure what the connection to Christmas was, but maybe the angel is there to show the juice is kind of the same color as her hair? So, Christmas!

In any case, the main spread looks far more Christmassy.

On the left, we have Spicy Turkey Roll! It's a reminder that "spicy" used to mean something very different. Now, of course, it usually means heat from peppers, like habanero or jalapeno.

Then, it meant that the cook used at least one flavoring agent in addition to salt and pepper. In this case, that's barbecue sauce thinned out with wine or grape juice. So, sweet turkey!

The Dilly Beans in the middle look so cute with their pimento poinsettia!

They consist, rather unsurprisingly, mostly of green beans and dill seed, but alliums, parsley, lemon, and additional pimento brighten them up for the holiday table. 

The Curried Fruit, as far as I am concerned, looks like a stomach ache waiting to happen.

Cans and cans of fruit (likely in heavy syrup if we're talking 1969!), plus 3/4-cup of additional brown sugar and a swad of red and green maraschino cherries to make it Christmassy... Instead of admitting it's just a casserole dish full of sugar, though, throw in a bit of curry powder and call it a side. That way, there's still room for a nice dessert the elves can use to warm up their hands.

At least, I think that is what's supposed to be going on in this picture. The elves see the flames in the middle of the pie and see a good opportunity to get their tiny hands warmer. Either that, or the red elf is trying not to barf on the mincemeat. It's kind of hard to tell what elves are up to. 

Setting the Cranberry Mincemeat Pie aflame is a memorable way to end a meal... Even more so if it's accompanied by roast elf. (It's helpful to add a little savory to round out all the sweets in this meal.)

In any case, I hope you get to have something you love to eat today! I'll be enjoying "Pistachio Salad" with a family that readily admits that yes, it is actually a dessert.

Happy Holidays! Let's microwave some sugar... Or maybe just buy some candy...

The holidays are coming! You want to make some candy, but all the recipes you find sound too intimidating, with their demands that you own a candy thermometer or at least understand the differences between soft ball, firm ball, and hard ball stages. No worries! Microwave Magic (produced by the staff of Farm Wife News, edited by Annette Gohlke, 1977) offers a couple of options.

If you really miss Thanksgiving (or just have a can or two of leftover cranberry sauce you want to get rid of), make some cranberry candy!

It's easy-- just microwave the sauce with extra sugar and a bunch of raspberry gelatin, flavor with a bit of raspberry extract, and let it stand in a buttered dish overnight before cutting and rolling in granulated sugar. Presto! Red candies for everybody.

If you're more of a chocolate type, go for Chocolate Igloos instead.

These are on the very outermost limbs of the Krispie Treats family tree-- chocolate chips melted and cooked with with sugar and water, then stirred into corn syrup, crispy rice, nuts, and vanilla. How does this large, brown blob become igloos? Drop tablespoonfuls onto waxed paper, and then roll them in confectioners sugar. They're sure to look as much like an igloo as a wad of chocolate Krispie Treats rolled in confectioners sugar! Just tell people they're supposed to be igloos, and they'll see it right away. Or at least pretend to, if they're nice.

And if all else fails, remember that homemade candy is overrated. Nothing tastes better than Reese's peanut butter trees anyway, even if they could just as convincingly be labeled Reese's peanut butter igloos. (You'd think a big company like that would be able to make at least semi-convincing holiday shapes!) Just go out and buy them. Whoever you're feeding will be just as happy.

Microwave converts!

I've always loved old microwave cookbooks for their insistence that anything can (and should!) be microwaved. I picked up today's book for a little something extra, though.

Okay, partly I'm just a sucker for the overhead view of the spines of nearly a dozen other vintage cookbooks! Guilty as charged. My true reason for wanting this, though, is hinted at in the title: Recipe Conversion for Microwave (Barbara Methven, 1979). The book promises to help home cooks convert their own conventional recipes to microwave recipes, so they can make just about anything in the microwave!

Alongside general instructions, the book also offers traditional versions of recipes with the converted versions, so readers can see how to put the general recommendations into practice.

Think you can't make a homemade microwave lasagna? (And no, the Stouffer's version does not count as homemade!) Here's what the conventional version might involve, along with notes to show what has to change to make this happen in the microwave.

Those are a lot of changes! What would they look like in practice?

You've got to love all the steps that have to be done sequentially. You can't boil noodles and brown cook the ground beef and alliums at the same time. Nope! Those are separate steps because there is only one microwave. And it's soooo speedy to microwave the sauce for 30-40 minutes while the microwaved noodles hang out on the counter, feeling bored. The big payoff is cutting the final cooking time from 40-50 minutes to 20-30 minutes. Of course, the cheese on top won't get brown.

And the procedure for microwaving the noodles is a wee bit tricky...

But it's fully microwaved homemade lasagna! And totally worth all the extra labor that the Stouffer's version would have saved!

Okay, you can make a casserole, but what about something that usually takes quite a long time, like dried beans? I'm glad you asked.

If you look carefully, you might notice that it tells which microwave levels to use for the various steps of simmering the beans, but there's nothing about changing the time.

And that's because it takes about as long to microwave the beans as it would have to cook them the conventional way anyway. I'm not sure what the advantage is to the microwaved version, except that maybe there's a chance they'll boil over when you're not paying attention and that will give you an incentive to finally clean all the dried, crusty bits out of the microwave's interior. (Just joking! You might mop the bean goo off the bottom of the microwave if you're feeling really ambitious, but that's a pretty big if if you're anything like me.)

At least there's no topping for the beans in tomato sauce that would traditionally be browned, so they're not missing out on a nice crust anyway. 

You know what accompaniment to beans could use a nice crust? How about some homemade whole wheat bread?

Yep! Microwave that whole wheat bread too-- from scalding the milk, to proofing, to baking.

I'll have to admit that I am a little intrigued by the idea of microwaving with a cup of water at 10% power for quicker proofing, even if people say longer proofing creates more flavor. (My sense of time passing is much more sophisticated than my palate, so I don't really care about the nuances of flavor in yeasted bread. Just give me a nice warm slice to devour!) Baking in the microwave, though? Sorry, but a little wheat germ coating is not likely to cover up for the lack of a crisp, brown crust. Why go to all the trouble of making homemade bread just to ruin it in the end?

The picture almost looks more like a wan turkey-based loaf than actual bread, but that's what you get for trying to cook it in the microwave!

Even if the conversions aren't always successful at convincing me there's a reason they should exist, at least they're fun to think about. (And there is a slightly-higher-than-zero chance I might try the proofing idea at some point, so I will grudgingly admit that parts of this are more instructive than they might initially seem. Still wouldn't say I'm a convert, though.)

A non-Jell-O ring mold for Christmas!

I see quite a few Jell-O based holiday "treats" that are labeled as salad but often secretly dessert, so that's what I expected when I saw the title Christmas Ring Mold in Louisiana's Fabulous Foods and How to Cook Them (Lady Helen Henriques Hardy and Raymond J. Martinez, 1960?). That was, however, not the case.

This is a bunch of spinach bound with white sauce and eggs, then baked in a ring mold. 

Sure, that provides the green, but what about the red? This is supposed to be a Christmas specialty, after all, and few people would really think of creamed spinach as being Christmas-specific.

Check out the last line: fill the center with hot buttered beets! Very Christmassy! Plus, the family can have a little extra holiday drama when everybody momentarily freaks out in the next day or so before remembering they recently ate beets. It's the gift that keeps on giving.

Matchlessly confusing recipes from an electric company

Matchless Recipes for Flameless Cooking (undated, but it's from Columbus and Southern Ohio Electric Company, which was bought by AEP in 1980, so pre-1980, and the mentions of using an "electric refrigerator" suggests it would be earlier than that) is I guess an attempt to get consumers excited about electric (rather than gas) stoves and other electric kitchen appliances like blenders and refrigerators. (Not that I really think consumers needed the electric company to get them excited about easy-to-use kitchen appliances, but considering the booklet's brevity, I'm not sure Columbus and Southern Ohio Electric Company was all that convinced either.)

The recipes can also seem... well... uninspired. Take the recipe for cauliflower, for instance.

Yep-- it's just telling cooks to steam cauliflower in salted water in a covered saucepan "on electric unit." Not too thrilling, and I'm not sure how many cooks at the time would need these instructions anyway. They probably had experience steaming vegetables and if they didn't, they probably owned general-purpose cookbooks that included these instructions and a LOT more useful information.

However, I discovered that the recipes are often more complicated than they initially seem. If they have multiple steps, there is NO indication at all (in the recipe title or in the first set of instructions) that cooks should go on to the seemingly separate recipe immediately below the first. The cauliflower is actually supposed to be topped with tomato sauce, so that's probably why the seemingly unnecessary recipe was listed. It's the first step to something larger, as the tomato sauce recipe immediately below the cauliflower recipe suggests.

And no, there is nothing to indicate that the Tomato Sauce is supposed to top the cauliflower until the middle of the recipe! So if readers skim through the cookbook in a normal fashion-- checking out titles and reading only the recipes they think they might make, rather than sitting down to read the entire page-- there's a really good chance they would make the cauliflower without ever realizing it was supposed to be topped with sauce. (I could also see people making the tomato sauce for a pasta dish without paying much attention and then wondering why the sauce recipe was suddenly mentioning cauliflower.) 

At least some recipes were a bit clearer about there being multiple steps. You might think that I cut off the name for this recipe, but I did not.

The recipe has no name unless you count "Pineapple Top Layer." At least the name clues cooks in to the fact that there must be other layers too. Still, it would be weird to bring out this dish and tell dinner companions it's Pineapple Top Layer with Lemon Cream Cheese Layer and Raspberry Banana Layer. Cooks better already know it's usually called ribbon salad (in which case they may already have the recipe anyway) or make up a name fast. 

And some recipes are just weird, like Stuffed Pink Pears.

I can't imagine there was a huge market for canned pears refrigerated in "dietetic 'red pop'" and rum extract, then stuffed with cottage cheese flavored with additional rum extract, but apparently Columbus and Southern Ohio Electric Company thought this was a grand way to get home cooks excited about electric refrigerators. 

I will admit that I have experience with-- but NO warm and fuzzy feelings for-- AEP, but I am very amused by this booklet from their predecessor. It seems like being kind of inept has always been their thing....

Funny Name: Holiday(???) Edition

When you read the title for this recipe from Microwave Magic (produced by the staff of Farm Wife News, edited by Annette Gohlke, 1977), you pretty much have to laugh.

I mean, "Ho Ho Ho" is right there-- for no apparent reason. Also, "Oh Oh Oh," I guess for the less-jolly laughers? Is the "Ho Ho Ho" meant to indicate that this is a Christmas recipe? Maybe. I mean, the custard is green-- one of the two main Christmas colors. Or does the "Oh Oh Oh" negate it? Did Doris Rush just have a weird thing about wanting the beginning and end of a recipe title to be mirror images of each other, and the "Ho"s and "Oh"s are just signs of some OCD tendencies? I have no idea. All I know is...

Getting (not terribly) crazy with the herbs and spices

If you need yet another reminder of how little flavor Americans used to expect from their food, Better Homes and Gardens Cooking with Herbs and Spices (1967, though mine is the 1968 second printing) might just do the job.

I was surprised by how many recipes seemed to suggest that "Flavor Magic" simply meant adding a little marjoram, like this recipe for Rice 'n Tuna Pie.

There's a little bit added to the rice-based crust and a little added to the tuna-and-Swiss cheese filling, so this recipe went all out.

The recipe for Oven Roasting Ears gets a little crazier, adding both rosemary and marjoram to the butter used to coat the sweet corn before it's wrapped in romaine leaves(!) and baked in the oven.

The booklet is also a reminder that snack food flavors were WAY more limited in 1960s America. If you wanted a flavor of potato chips other than "salt" and maybe barbecue or onion, you pretty much had to make them yourself. Better Homes and Gardens recommended using thyme, basil, or (surprise!) marjoram.

But to make it stick, you'd need to fix the potato chips nacho-style, with some melty cheese.

And while a lot of recipes are pretty basic, like adding basil to cooked carrots, dill to cucumber pickles, or candied ginger to ginger crisp cookies, there are a few oddball recipes, like this recipe from the "Fast and Flavorful!" section of the booklet.

Since the section heading wasn't too descriptive, I initially assumed that the applesauce and ginger meant Dixie Dandy Bake was a dessert. Then I saw the luncheon meat. And the sweet potatoes. And the apricot jam. And the mustard... So this is clearly one of those overly-sweet main dish dealies that tend to give me the heebie-jeebies, and the title clearly does not help in that regard...

Still, as I make fun of the 1960s households for being so timid and conventional about herbs and spices, I have to admit that I have an entire spice rack full of barely used (and often unopened) spices that I saw on sale or clearance, picked up because I thought they would be fun to try, and then chickened out on because I was worried what my digestive system might think. I like to make fun of these old booklets, but it's more of an act than you might imagine.... (Still, though, I am more adventurous than salt, pepper, and a hint of marjoram.)

A toast (Okay, really just bread, but you can toast it if you want) to December!

December means it's almost time to say goodbye to our seasonal book of 2024: The Political Palate (The Bloodroot Collective (Betsey Beaven, Noel Giordano, Selma Miriam, and Pat Shea), 1980). Most of the month is classified as Late Autumn (which I already covered in November). The Early Winter section begins at winter solstice, but I already covered that in January. The book does offer a bread chapter that's not tied to any specific season, though, and we're now into the time of the year when people might want to turn on their ovens to warm up the house. I think it's time to cover bread!

I will admit a serious fondness for homemade bread, especially the kind with nuts and seeds and various types of grain. The bread chapter has me covered. There's a Four Grain Walnut Bread packed with oats, rye, various wheat products, cornmeal, and, of course, walnuts.

Or there's Oatmeal Sunflower Seed Bread, full of oats plus sunflower and sesame seeds. (I'm not sure why the sunflower seeds get top billing. I hope the sesame seeds aren't pissed off.)

The first rise is for a long time in a cool place, too-- perfect for winter days when you just want to stay inside. I'm half-tempted to try making one when I'm on winter break.

If you want something more celebratory (as long as you don't plan to celebrate a patriarchal holiday), there's also a Cheese Babka. 

This might be a little on the health-foody side of things, with its raisins and dry cottage cheese, but it's still got plenty of butter, eggs, and sugar! It's a nice little celebration to end the year.

And fine, if you need something seasonally-appropriate, here's a quick bread from the Late Autumn section to end our exploration of Bloodroot Collective's dishes: Chenopodium Gems.

I thought chenopods were just plants that pumped out pollen so my pollen tracker would have something to warn me about, but apparently they have edible seeds, too. In true Political Palate fashion, this recipe entreats readers to collect wild ingredients and then warns, "Be sure you know your wild plants before you eat them." That note seems like the appropriate ending for this book. Eat some wild plants! Be sure you know what you're doing, though. We're not going to help much on that front. Good luck!

The new year will bring a new book with some tie to the calendar and/or seasons-- probably one that expects readers to be a little less skilled in identifying what is (and is not) safe to rip out of the ground and stuff into one's mouth.... Until then, happy late autumn/ early winter!

An ocean of bad ideas involving cranberries

When I saw the cover of 101 All-Time Favorite Cranberry Recipes (Ocean Spray, undated, but looks 1970s-ish), I kind of loved the little caricatures. 

I especially like the way the pilgrim men kind of look like they have peg legs. It makes me think of Odie in Garfield's Halloween Adventure. However, seeing the Native Americans also made me nervous. A cook booklet from the 1970s with caricatures of people can be ... uh ... less than sensitive. (And really, any idealized depiction of America's past is sus at best.) But I charged ahead anyway because I was hoping to see some weird cranberry recipes. 

And I was of course immediately greeted by another stereotypical caricature, one of the characters apparently saying "Heap good." Yikes. And while pakimintzen is, so far as I can tell, an actual Lenape word for "cranberry eater" (as the booklet itself states), the way the picture is drawn seems to suggest cannibalism. (The dish on offer should be pakihm-- cranberries! NOT cranberry eaters!) So ... double yikes? At least?

Not content with just being racist against Native Americans, the booklet also offers the cringeworthy Oriental Cranberry Salad.

The salad itself, I'm kind of on the fence about. Cranberry orange relish/ gelatin with crystallized ginger in it sounds pretty amazing, but I can see the water chestnuts either making it (with their crunch) or breaking it (with their sometimes weird, metallic flavor). The picture, though-- NO! Bad Ocean Spray!

Maybe we'd be happier just moving on from the caricatures... Let's check out a few of the more unusual uses of cranberries-- maybe ways they can help replace the typically non-cranberry components of a Thanksgiving dinner. If your family is not the turkey type, you could make Cranburgers the main course.

The cow looks pretty unimpressed by the suggestion to make meatloaf-ish burgers and top them with a "Cranburger Sauce" consisting of canned cranberry sauce blended with A-1, oil, and brown sugar, but dinner guests who are tired of bone-dry turkey breast might be more excited.

If you're tired of pumpkin pie, maybe make some Cranberry Doughnut Puffs for dessert.

They're pretty easy since they use refrigerated biscuit dough as the doughnut, and I could see this being a fun end-of-the-meal project, especially back in the fondue era, with everybody frying their own little puffs in an electric skillet of hot oil in the middle of the table, then rolling their treats in cinnamon sugar. (And then the hosts might be tempted to burn the house down and attempt to get the insurance money after the end of the meal because that could be easier than cleaning up afterward!)

And finally, maybe you're hosting a HUGE gathering and want a beverage to replace the wine. (Maybe because it will be cheaper, and/or maybe because it could help cut down on the number of times family members lose their tempers and fling silverware at each other.) That's when Cranberry Nog comes to the rescue.

Simply mix cranberry juice with water plus apricot nectar or prune juice and MORE THAN TWO DOZEN EGGS! This should be enough to serve at least 100 (or quite possibly more, given that main components are prune juice and raw eggs). 

Still less cringeworthy than some of those caricatures, though, so I guess that's something.... Happy Thanksgiving to those who celebrate!

Get ready for Brown Friday!

The day after Thanksgiving is known as Black Friday for retail workers, but plumbers have their own term for what is also often their busiest day of the year: Brown Friday. I'm sure you can figure out why.... Larger-than-normal meals... Big gatherings... It can be a lot for the pipes to handle.

In any case, if you're afraid you might miss out on that Brown Friday rush, Sunsweet Recipes (California Prune & Apricot Growers Association, 1950) offers a few Thanksgiving-appropriate recipes to make sure your plumbing gets a good workout.

Of course, people expect some vegetable sides, like sweet potatoes. Instead of the ever-popular sweet potatoes and marshmallows angle, try sweet potatoes and prunes.

But why stick to prunes in just the veggie sides? People expect some roughage in those anyway. The turkey might be a good place to hide additional prunes.

Just stuff it full of Fruited Stuffing-- and the fruit will be Sunsweet prunes, of course!

And then you need some cranberries for a zesty counterpoint to all the rich foods. Why should the cranberry entirely steal the spotlight, though?

Make a Prune Cranberry Conserve instead. I mean, the family should be really tripled up on prunes just to make sure the big meal keeps on moving....

I guess if all else fails, a host desperate to get in on Brown Friday can just try sending a box or two of Sunsweet prunes straight down the garbage disposal to get the kitchen in on the action, but it wouldn't be the same.

In any case, may your Friday after Thanksgiving just be a Friday. Hopefully one when you don't have to work... or make anyone else work overtime....