I love old cookbooks.
Especially
American mid-century ones. American cookbooks from the 1950s, 60s and 70s
contain bizarre recipes with ingredients in combinations best left untested (though
some have certainly
attempted them recently) that are often overly complicated
unless you have regular “help” around the house, or they demonstrate an
overreliance on canned items (technology! progress!). The illustrations and
photographs are unappetizing at worst and ridiculous at best. Lastly, the
commentary at the start of each section and in the recipes is absolutely priceless.
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Canning and preservation technologies were celebrated in the 50s, which fed into the mantra of home economics--being economical at home. This led to some highly questionable food choices. |
Cookbooks betray so many of the commonplaces of their
time, they are like looking through a magic window into another era. For
historians of her-story, they are an invaluable tool. Of course,
earlier cookbooks and recipes are also wonderful. Cookbooks of the 18
th and 19
th
centuries, for example, often had many instructions about how to appear in
society, whom to invite to a party, how to arrange guests at a table, and what
to serve at various times of day (and what to wear!). They was also often
efficiency advice, explaining how to feed a family on budget or how many
housemaids, cook’s helpers and footmen were needed for family dinners versus
dinners for 50.
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Case in point: On Mad Men, Betty has Carla to help out at parties. |
Twentieth-century cookbooks often contain the same bits
of advice, especially books written before the 1990s. It’s much rarer now, in a
regular cookbook, to find suggestions on what to wear during a Sunday brunch.
Similarly, most cookbooks now take it as a matter of fact that one person is
probably making any given dish with no extra paid help. Of course there are
gourmet cookbooks even now, but the kind of everyman (everyperson) cookbooks
that are out there on the shelves of Barnes and Noble or Books A Million are often
catering to people with little time, money or cooking knowledge.
Mid-century cookbooks are quite different. They assume
that the person reading the cookbook is a woman. Who doesn’t work, most likely.
Who has access to help and/or loves to spend the entire day cooking (when, of
course, she isn’t cleaning). She might be totally devoted to her children, or
she may have a bouncy social life that includes heading up steering committees
at the Junior League, but she has plenty of time for cooking.
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I love Ann Taintor's work, like this piece, that make fun of the 50s housewives who were so devoted to cooking, among other domestic pursuits. |
I used to have an Encyclopedia
of Modern Cooking, Volume 1, from the 1950s, but I misplaced it during our
move. (Hopefully it’s just in a box somewhere at my parents’!) Not only did it
have amazing (badly-colored) photographs of the food (see below), but it had a
brilliant section at the beginning on how to plan a week’s worth of meals for
each month, with complete meal plans for all three meals of the day for a
family of four. There was frequently milk on the menu for children, stewed
prunes for the adults, and hot cooked food for the whole family for every single meal.
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The inside of the cover of The Modern Encylopedia circa 1953. |
Luckily, I recently came across Helen Corbitt Cooks for Company (1974). Here is the cover:
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Yes, her dress matches the wallpaper. |
This book is as brilliant in its pastness as the Encyclopedia. In some ways it’s better, because
it’s all about cooking for company, so the recipes are complicated and the
menus are ridiculous. Additionally, there are lots of wonderful tidbits of
advice from Helen herself:
Chapter 1: Mid-morning entertaining: “The atmosphere
should be gay and cheery…The food should be flavorful, simple or elaborate, but
dainty in size.”
Chapter 2: Brunches: “You may omit a first course or a
dessert and no one will talk about you. In fact, very few hostesses today
really go through the soup-to-nuts routine.”
Chapter 6: Sunday Entertaining: Sunday Night
Entertaining: “Buffet—who has help on Sunday?”
Chapter 8: Cocktails and Cocktail Buffets: “For those who
drink, you can no longer provide just whiskey. Wine, beer, and champagne are
becoming the usual rather than the exception.”
Little tidbits like these give way to a flurry of
questions in my 21st century mind:
·
Should there ever be an atmosphere at a party
that is not “gay and cheery”?
·
What else is in a “soup-to-nuts” routine?
·
Who still has help?
·
Why was it ever ok to just serve whiskey?????
The suggested menus and recipes are similarly titillating
and strange. The menus frequently juxtapose foods that seem ok, maybe even delicious,
with foods that don’t seem to match at all. Or which one would never serve
today. For example, one of the cocktail party suggested menus reads as follows:
Broiled oysters Parmesan
Honey and Mustard Spareribs
Cold Chicken Livers with Mustard Sauce
Garbanzo Salad
Artichoke hearts (canned) filled with red caviar and
sieved hard-cooked eggs
Rich Chocolate Cookies
Coffee
How about some Sunday entertaining?:
Tournedos of Beef, in artichoke bottoms
Green Enchiladas with sour cream
Cold lobster and king crab on rings of papaya with
curried mayonnaise
Flageolet Salad
Hot bread sticks
Glazed strawberries
Almost all of the suggested menus read similarly. There is
an over-reliance on things like paté, artichokes, caviar, tongue, liver,
lobster and sherry. There are often several meat dishes (why so many!?) as well
as dishes whose names history has long forgotten—maybe for the better?
One of my favorite recipes in the book (so far…haven’t
read it cover to cover—yet) is the “Little Princess Sundae”:
“Place a ball of ice cream in a meringue shell or on a
round white cake to anchor the ice cream to the plate. Place a tiny doll head
(found in variety stores) in the top of the ball. Dribble whipped cream from a
pastry tube or an ice tea spoon to make the ice cream ball look like a bouffant
skirt. Sprinkle with silver dragees and candied flowers (buy also). You may deep
freeze. Place a paper parasol over the head when you serve. Little girls from 3
to 80 love them.”
Sprinkle with a touch of racism, and it's ready!
--UK