Stack up the chili! We got a Westinghouse!

I picked up the Recipes.. Care.. Use Westinghouse Electric Ranges booklet (1949) not for the color cover (though it is hard to resist a cover with green petits fours that almost match the pea soup).

I got it because I'm kind of fascinated by pictures of old electric ranges. They always seem so happy, listing all the features as if this specific appliance will change the owner's life.

This model offers extra outlets for appliances, an acid-resistant top, a warming drawer, and an oven big enough so you can bake EIGHT loaves of bread at once! (Never mind that I don't want to imagine what a private, non-bakery life that would require baking eight loaves of bread at once might entail.)

There's even a tiny woman ready to explain the oven's features for any homemaker lucky enough to own one.

Well... A tiny woman with football-player shoulders. She's ready to explain that the minute timer can (You guessed it!) be used as a timer. The "Surface Signalite" lights up so cooks will know when (You guessed it!) a surface unit is turned on. (If you want to know what the "Oven Signalite" does, you'll just have to turn to page 15.)

The recipes themselves are admittedly not the most compelling. If you need to know how long to steam various vegetables or how to adjust a cake recipe if you live in a high-altitude region, this offers up the appropriate guides. Still, a few recipes made me slow down for a closer look. The Chop Suey recipe briefly made me wonder what kinds of weird snack foods were available in postwar America.

A can of mushroom chips? I initially imagined crispy mushroom bits similar to canned fried onions-- like the kind people put on green bean casserole. Then I realized that the recipe also called for "water from mushrooms"-- so this really just means plain old canned mushroom stems and pieces. They're just referred to as "chips" because they're cut in small pieces. So much for that mystery.

I noticed a recipe for "Chili Stack" and was wondering how cooks might stack up their chili, given that it's usually pretty fluid and amorphous.

There is no real stacking involved, though. It's just chili with the suggestion that it be served on toast. (Not even a recommendation for layering toast, chili, toast, chili, which would at least be closer to a stack!)

And there is, of course, the recipe labeled as "Chinese" for extremely flimsy reasons.

The Chinese are known for their cheese-filled omelets with a white-sauce base, right? (And don't even get me started on how this is more of a soufflé than an omelet!) This recipe  is just another reminder that the simple addition of rice was enough to make pretty much any recipe "Chinese" back in the day.

I'm not sure how to end this one, so I guess it will just be with an embarrassing observation about myself. In the picture highlighting the Signalite, I noticed that the range has written indications of which control goes with which burner. (Note the "Right Read" near tiny woman's knees.)  That means I could easily figure out which burner to use! Stoves now try to be more inclusive by using little diagrams to indicate which burner goes with which control so people who may not read English can still figure out which one to use. The problem is that my spatial sense is so terrible that I am often confused by the little diagrams when they are not accompanied by written descriptions. If I've only got a diagram, I end up turning on a burner, touching it to see if it's getting hot, and then adjusting if I guessed wrong the first time. So-- come to admire my cookbook. Stay to hear me make fun of myself! 😄

The rainbow returns! Whether you like it or not!

Happy Pride Month! Or perhaps more appropriately this year, Scrappy Pride Month! It's unfortunately getting more important to remind everybody that we're here, we're queer, we deserve to be treated like real human beings because we are in fact real human beings, and also we like rainbows and kitsch. That last item, of course, is where my rainbow of gelatin comes in.

This year, I'm getting a sixth helping of recipes from River Road Recipes II: A Second Helping (The Junior League of Baton Rouge, Louisiana; January 1977 fourth printing). In case anyone isn't familiar with how a rainbow works: start with red. This year is too sour and bitter, so I'm going with (mostly) nice recipes this year, like Strawberry Delight Salad or Dessert.

I love that this Jell-O, like me, can go both ways. It also reminds readers that any gelatin, no matter how sweet, magically changes from dessert into a salad if you just serve it on a lettuce leaf.

Mandarin Orange Salad represents our violet layer. Yeah-- just kidding. The color is given away by the name. (Fun fact: In English, the color is named after the fruit. Before oranges were familiar, the color was just "red-yellow" or "yellow-red." In short, we have a fruit to thank for "orange"!)

To represent yellow, we've got Ginger Peach Salad for everyone who likes things a bit spicy.

This one also has plenty of soggy nuts, for those who are into that kind of thing. 

I'm going to hope the lime gelatin adds enough green that the Cheese Party Salad will count as green.

With three cheeses plus whipped topping, it's sure to be creamy and decadent. (I'd be a little afraid of the American cheese in the mix, though...)

And finally, as close as I can ever get to blue and/or violet with recipes predating Berry Blue Jell-O, Blueberry Salad.

I know the other side is always grousing about us "shoving things down [their] throats," showing an unawareness of both phrasing and how practically EVERY bit of culture has some implicit messages (and the haters are only consciously aware of the ones they personally disagree with). I just wish we could get the message down their throats as easily as Jell-O. 

In any case, it's Pride Month! And I hope all the jiggling in this post makes yours a little better. Gotta take what you can get...

Fonduecraft!

I know Workbasket isn't a cookbook, but the February 1970 issue magically appeared in a huge pile of vintage cookbooks, and it does have a few recipes in it, so today we're working with Workbasket. 

I love that readers could aspire to knit a suit to match their harvest gold fridge and oven. They'll be kitchen chameleons!

This month features chafing dish and fondue cooking. For those who hope their new knitted suit will inspire an intimate dinner, the magazine offers Chicken for Two. 

Hopefully he'll be turned on by chicken strips in bouillon with celery, green onion, canned pineapple, pimiento, and avocado! Unfortunately, there is no recipe for a dessert, but a nearby ad does suggest that "exotic Pepper Cake" may be the key to his heart.

Back in the day, you'd have to send away for the recipe, though. (Now, you can just click here! You won't get a free sample of M-K pure black pepper from the website, though.)

If things are decidedly less romantic, you could cook some Sloppy Mop-Ups.

I expected this to be sloppy-joes-esque, and I have never been a fan of sloppy joes, and when the slightly-altered recipe name makes me wonder if the ingredients include cleaning supplies... well, it doesn't help. To my surprise, though, this sounds better than sloppy joes. It's essentially just an open-faced meatball sandwich that throws in cocktail franks, for some reason.

Or, if the cook is feeling really indecisive and also kinda lazy, there's the "Cook-Your-Food-Your-Own-Damn-Self" option.

Sorry, I mean "Cook-Your-Own-Appetizer Fondue," which involves thawing out various frozen appetizers and providing the hot oil so diners can fry them-- and then dip them in cocktail or tartar sauce. (I'm not really sure how many people are up for pizza rolls dipped in tartar sauce, but the '70s were a crazy time.)

All those fried apps can be followed by a round of "Bring-a-Premade-Dessert-to-Share" and "Help-with-the-Dishes." It's a very easy party to host.

Bonus 1: The page with the two previous recipes also advertised a book that would allow buyers to make their own zodiac "conversation piece" from foil pans, and that was too amazing for me not to show it.

I love how startled the sun looks. Reassuringly, "No artistic ability [is] needed" to make this decoration. (Sadly, I haven't found the instructions online.)

Bonus 2: Tatting instructions just for Lace maker.

I assume they mean something that I am not equipped to understand, and I am sure this requires some artistic ability. 

It's fun to be a tiny obscure blog with three readers tops, so I can get away with shit like this. I hope today you too can get away with something fun, dear reader(s)!

Partying with the calendar

Welcome June! This is the part of the cooking calendar that I always want to slow down, but January is the "J" month that really lingers...

Cooking by the Calendar (edited by Marilyn Hansen, 1978) gets sentimental in June, noting that "With the scent of roses combined with honeysuckle, it has always been a nostalgic time of the year-- a month of graduations, commencements, reunions, showers and weddings." Thus, the month is full of party-ready recipes, including the section for "Party Sandwiches and Salads." I'm not sure what makes a sandwich party-ready in Hansen's estimation, but I'd say "inexpensive and not too tasty"-- I guess to keep the party costs down?

There's a classic trying to sound updated: Cool Cucumber Sandwiches.

I've never quite gotten the appeal of a cucumber sandwich. It doesn't sound repulsive or anything, but I think I'd rather have a nice herbed butter spread on some really fresh bread than to find a thin, slightly slimy slice of cucumber tucked away in the middle of slices of squishy white bread.

Then there is a sandwichy update to a snacking staple: Peanut Butter-Celery Sandwiches.

Again-- I'm more than happy to eat peanut butter on bread. I'm also okay with eating celery as a vehicle to hold as much peanut butter as humanly possible-- but why ruin a smooth and creamy peanut butter sandwich with celery bits? If you want crunch, crunchy peanut butter exists and is MUCH better than peanut butter with celery bits! I really think these sad little sandwiches are just an attempt to keep the party trays fuller so they won't need to be restocked.

At least the gelatin salad should make things a little more fun. 

Maybe Hansen went with the cheap and not-so-tasty little sandwiches so the party budget could include Sangria? 

Finally, the vegetable of the month for June is green beans. The Colache stew looks more like something people would break out in August or September to help use up big batches of zucchini and tomatoes alongside the green beans, but it's still a big bowl of summer (and perhaps more seasonally appropriate for people who live farther south).

Here's hoping that you have a few nice parties to look forward to in June, if you're the kind of person who likes going to parties. (And here's hoping you can still find an affordable greeting card in which to send your congratulations and regrets if you're like me and would rather spend June reading books on the back porch than going to parties!)

Litton gets (kinda) real about microwaves

Litton's Microwave Cooking: Everyday Dinners in Half an Hour (1980) seems a little more realistic than some of my other microwave cookbooks. It doesn't ask anyone to spend a few hours cooking dried beans in the microwave or try to microwave a whole goddamn crown roast. 

I'd say the decision to keep recipes to half an hour or less served them well in that regard.

I also appreciate that the cookbook tries to change things up a little from what people might expect, such as recipes for "international"-style meatloaves rather than just plain old ketchup-topped meatloaf. The Oriental Meatloaves incorporate a big can of Chinese vegetables-- maybe to distract diners from the weird texture of microwaved meat-- and a full half cup of soy sauce-- perhaps to cover up the lack of color and flavor since the meat wasn't browned.

And they come out looking, well...

... like slabs of mystery meat with indeterminate chunks in them. So, I guess not too far from conventional meatloaf?

There's also a recipe for Individual Mexican Meatloaves, with onion, green pepper, taco seasoning, tomato, "crumbled Nacho cheese chips" (I like how they keep it generic-- not Doritos!-- and capitalize the "N"), and kidney beans to help in the texture and flavor departments.

Plus, the individual meatloaves come in adorable little tortilla boats!

That's probably enough to distract diners from the fact of microwave-cooked meat!

The book offers a spin on beanie-weenies that surprised me a little: Polynesian Bean & Wiener Bake.

I thought for sure the ingredient list would lead with pineapple, but it's regular old apple-- a flavor I don't really associate with Polynesian cooking. Don't worry-- the pineapple does eventually make an appearance! And the wieners aren't too likely to suffer from being cooked in the microwave. They're pre-cooked, and I think microwaving hot dogs is a pretty standard prep method by now. (Some people in my college dorm would have starved without microwaved hot dogs!) 

The concoction does suffer from being brown as a 1970s Sears family photo, though.

The final recipe for this post is a bit brighter, with enough red and green to almost look Christmassy. 

It's Spinach Lasagna! Litton conceded to the reality that it's tough to get everything assembled in half an hour if you've got to cook lasagna noodles too, though, so...

The Spinach Lasagna ingredients suggest this would be a pile of mush. And if you're wondering where the instructions are, this recipe is complicated enough each step got a separate listing of instructions with photos. 

Nothing sounds bad, exactly-- beefy spaghetti sauce, cheesy spinach-- but there wouldn't be much to chew, really. Not even a bit of crispy breadcrumbs on top for some contrast. Just glop on glop on glop. (Although-- maybe now I have an idea of what to make for the next time my jaw is killing me! This would be easy enough to make with veggie ground "beef.")

In short, this is one of the more-realistic, less-delusional-about-the-abilities-of-microwaves microwave cookbooks in my collection. Not that it's a high bar to cross, but still, it's something. 

Say "Congratulations" with a LOT of icing, an orange owl, and some beans

It's graduation season, which means time to make graduation cakes! Sure, people now tend to just buy one from a grocery store or bakery, but the April 1972 issue of Mail Box News (from the Maid of Scandinavia Co.-- a defunct mail-order catalog for baking supplies and other Scandinavian-themed household goods) reminds us that graduation cakes back then were mostly homemade affairs.

This issue recommends a graduation hat cake, presumably because the decoration involves ordering the company's white wire, magic mold pan, and most importantly, its 10-inch square separator plate.

The separator plate is essential because "cardboard will warp with the amount of icing required." So, in short, the instructions are to create a smallish cake topped of with a big icing-covered hunk of plastic and wiry tassel. 

I personally prefer the reader-submitted cakes, such as this little cake with a tiny graduate figure walking between the tiers (and hoping the construction is sound enough she will not be crushed by the top one).

There's just something about that wonky "GINGER" (or maybe "GINEER"?) that I adore. I'm sure it was difficult to write a message in icing on a vertical surface.

Another reader sent in a picture of an extremely round and adorable owl cake.

I love that the cupcake feet make the owl look pigeon-toed. The accompanying note recommends that decorators have fun with the colors. This little guy is (apparently) orange-and-blue themed for the school colors-- at least, if the note is to be believed. Obviously, the black-and-white picture doesn't give the audience much of a clue...

These old-style decorated cakes look like something my grandma would have made. I would sit and watch her decorate cakes for hours when I had the chance as a kid.

And if you're disappointed not to get a recipe, perk up! There is a cake recipe near the end for those who are tired of more traditional flavors like vanilla, chocolate, or banana:

Make the graduate eat their beans! I'd probably swap out the walnuts for pistachios so there would be some plausible deniability about why the cake is oddly green.

In any case, a lima bean cake is unlikely to be the worst thing to happen to a graduate this year, given-- you know. (Vague gesturing toward the pile of rubble that is 2025 thus far.) Given that, a lima bean cake might just be perfect: an attempt to make the best out of what you've got, even if it's not ideal. Welcome to life as a grown-up. 

Home Ec Teachers Get Quick and Easy!

I love the Favorite Recipes of Home Economics Teachers series just because home ec teachers were often so focused on some specific aspect of cooking-- usually nutrition, but sometimes another factor such as cost or ease of preparation-- that they could lose sight of what actual humans wanted to eat. And that's why I picked up the 1978 revision of Quick & Easy Dishes, even though I already had an older edition.

Since this book covers all types of cooking-- not just one type like vegetables or chicken-- I'm going with my "menu of mayhem" format, picking some weird-ish recipes to put together into a questionable meal. Let's start out with some appetizers.

I have no idea how Mighty Lucy Links got their name, but I'm sure that Vienna sausages dipped in spiced catsup and Fritos would make diners anxious for the next course-- if only to get the taste of Vienna sausages out of their mouths. 

For a main dish, how about this beautiful classic?

Yes, it's everyone's favorite, Baked Eggs-Corned Beef and Bananas!

I get that people in the '70s were likely to have a can of corned beef hash in the pantry and eggs in the fridge, so this was an easy way to make do with what was on hand, but I will never get over the random addition of bananas to casseroles for no discernible reason other than "Bananas exist! And you can put them in things!" 

For a salad, how about Green and Gold Mold?

And yes, the green is lime gelatin, and the gold is grated carrots and Velveeta. Just eat it. We all understand the importance of getting enough Velveeta into one's diet. 

I will admit that I was too lazy to scan the bread recipe, so I'll just tell you the secret: you can make easy southern biscuits by dredging canned refrigerated biscuits in cornmeal before you bake them. At least, that is according to Mrs. Charles Woolf from Morrowville, Kansas. I bet that actual southerners might dispute this claim. 

And for dessert, you better have a big, flat area available in your freezer. Why? Because you're making a cake from a box mix.

If that previous sentence didn't seem to make sense, well, hopefully the recipe clarifies it. Just prepare a yellow cake mix according to the box instructions, fold in a cup of nuts, pour the batter into a 9x13 pan, and freeze the whole thing. Then once it's solid, pour boiling cocoa-brown-sugar water over frozen cake slab before you bake it. So quick and easy! Nothing could be simpler. (Well, except just making the cake from a mix according to the package directions without freezing it and dumping boiling sugar-water over it first... or buying a pre-made cake and throwing out the bakery box before claiming that you personally made it.)

In any case, enjoy the menu! And don't forget to roll your eyes when the home ec teacher turns her back. (Not that I ever did that.)