Fabulous foods and (maybe, if you're lucky) how to cook them

I'm not sure of the age of Louisiana's Fabulous Foods and How to Cook Them (Lady Helen Henriques Hardy and Raymond J. Martinez). It's undated, but NOLA.com says the book was originally released in 1960 and "recently" re-released in paperback (2014, according to Amazon). The book's condition suggests it's from a newer printing, but at least the recipes should still be vintage!

I wasn't quite sure what to anticipate when I picked this up. The book is divided into various sections that don't correspond to the typical cookbook divisions like type of recipe (breads, meats, etc.) or types of preparation. The first section is nearly 15 pages devoted to explaining the nutritional value of Louisiana sugar cane molasses and providing recipes to encourage readers to use as much molasses as possible. (I kind of wondered if the book was sponsored in part by "big molasses.") The recipes for cookies and cakes and gingerbread were to be expected, but there's also a section for molasses-containing drinks. I guess molasses makes sense as a liquid sweetener, but it just seems so thick and sticky that I can't imagine it being refreshing. Still, the book assures readers that molasses can be "A grand 'cooler-offer' for torrid days" when mixed with citrus rind and juice, additional sugar, cloves, mint, and water.

Or, in the unlikely event that you're cold in Louisiana, a Molasses Toddy is "A fine chill-chaser on frosty days!"

And for those special occasions, you can break out the Molasses Egg Nog.

I'm kind of surprised that this doesn't call for any alcoholic ingredients, but maybe that would make the claim to being "Rich in nourishment" a bit harder to believe.

After the molasses chapter, there's a brief section on the wonders of American rice, followed by "Selected Recipes Tried Many Times and Found Delicious," such as this Crab Meat Mousse.

This recipe reinforces the point made repeatedly by Campbell's Great Restaurants Cookbook, USA that canned soup was considered a great starting point for a "fancy" dish. Mix it with enough cream cheese, veggies, mayo, seafood, seasonings, and gelatin, and you've got yourself a party.

And then there are recipes that come from Louisiana restaurants. The dividing lines in this section aren't very clear, so I think the Chaurice is supposed to be from Maylie's, but I could be wrong.  

In any case, if you wanted to try to make a Louisiana specialty using actual Creole sausage (rather than store-bought smoked sausage, hot links, or other things that some Louisiana cooks would surely consider abominations), this is an option! 

Not all the recipes in this section are quite so eager to give up their secrets. I was especially amused by the "recipe" for Mme. Esparbe's Broiled Beefsteak or Filet Mignon aux Cepes. 

There's no real recipe (or even instructions) here! Just an explanation that cepes are a large, flat mushroom that "can be still found in the piney woods of St. Tammany Parish," though you can also find expensive imported canned versions. We also find out that Mme. "always insisted on having her steaks of the best quality" (Quelle surprise!). The "recipe" ends with an assertion that steak is better broiled over coals and that Mme. Esparbe's Charter Oak stove was used for broiling nearly every day. This looks more like someone took a moment to brag about their superior eating habits than like they intended to provide a recipe...

The book ends with brief sections on honey and sweet potatoes, including this recipe for Sweet Potato Waffles.

It doesn't look bad, exactly, but a pint of milk and an egg seems like a LOT of liquid for a recipe with a quarter cup of flour and two rounded tablespoons of masked sweet potatoes. I imagine it would come out more like a custard than a waffle and be virtually impossible to remove from the waffle iron. (Plus, no spices at all? I'd think at least a little cinnamon would be in order...)

The book ends with an illustration of a Creole family at the French opera.

I love the very specific caption and the refusal to provide any sense at all of why this is there. I guess maybe to lament the passing of the days when Mme. Esparbe could regale everyone with descriptions of mushrooms and fine cuts of meat, and then they could all go to the opera to stare blankly into the distance.