Butterless Kitchen

Between Thanksgiving and New Year's most of us find ourselves making and sampling (or scarfing) mounds of fatty foods. Given the current array of butter and cream cheese coming to room temperature on my counter right now in anticipation of hours of baking, Classic Cook's home is no exception. Thus, a newer book in my collection, "Gourmet Cookery for a Low-Fat Diet" offers a brief contrast to this seasons eatings. This book from 1961 shares dire warnings about the dangers of fat and gives us confidence to "[g]o into [our] butterless kitchen without despair, for now it can be done."

And, oh, the joy these authors have for fat free cooking! We will become the "Columbus of the kitchen, a Magellan of the markets" using this book that is destined to "become a kind of classic, a pioneer, a Dan'l Boone of what to eat and how to eat it." Oh my. That's a lot from one cookbook.

Here's something many people can get behind: the importance of alcohol. They dismiss the "Puritans" among us who don't drink alcohol because the authors "do like enlightenment, and therefore...pay heed to the dictum of science which says that alcohol is the purest food known." Well there we have it. It's scientific! I'm enlightened! Now bring on the bourbon!

But first, a recipe. My potato repertoire is pretty limited: oven baked potatoes or mashed potatoes. This recipe for Casserole Potatoes really isn't outstanding, it's just, well, potatoes in milk. The beauty of it how easy it is to modify, making it a good basic recipe to have. Get rid of the caraway seeds and add garlic or a little cumin or thyme. Add a little cheese and butter (ignore the fat free crowd!).

And remember, "ignore the dull, dreary rules, regulations and restrictions of the diet books and still feel confident entering the Kingdom of King Pausole."

Casserole Potatoes
Adapted from Gourmet Cookery for a Low-Fat Diet, 1961. Modify, modify, modify this recipe. I think more than anything it gives you the confidence that you don't need a recipe to make potatoes.

White potatoes
Butter
Caraway seeds
Salt
Skim milk

Preheat oven to 375. Slice some raw potatoes into a lightly buttered casserole. Cut them thin. Scatter some caraway seeds and salt in between the layers and pour in skim milk to a depth of about one inch. Cover, place in 375 oven for 30 minutes. Stir potatoes. Recover and place in oven for another 20 to 30 minutes.

Legacy

Sliced muenster cheese (which I thought was called monster cheese) and tomato aspic are the foods I associate with eating at my great grandmother's house. These foods reflect a child's memory of food and not what I imagine her approach to cooking would have been, given her incredible creativity and ability outside of the kitchen to use scraps of this and that to make something usable or decorative. Whether she was braiding discarded pantyhose, er, nylons, into welcome mats or making belt buckles and egg cartons into Christmas decorations, she always seemed to be making something out of nothing. To this day, if I see something particularly creative--not a necklace made from a craft kit available at a store--I think, "Hmmm, Grandma Reardon would have made that. Better."

When my parents handed me a heavy, rectangular, wrapped item for my birthday I could have guessed (or hoped!) that it was a vintage cookbook. But I did not expect this, The Boston Cooking-School Cook Book, 1948, by Fannie Merritt Farmer, which belonged to my great grandmother. It has a couple bookmarks, really scraps of paper torn from magazines, and little scribbled notes from her. It's hard to believe this was hers and now it's mine.

In some ways, this book has demystified her approach to things which always seemed so her. Intellectually, I know that a lot of people who were born around the time she was used things to their fullest. Wrapping a sandwich in the waxed bag from a box of cereal, or saving scraps of paper for some potential future use is not as unique to my great grandmother as I'd like to think. This cookbook is evidence of an approach to cooking that seems more flexible than a lot of books being written now.

For example, in the chapter on Gingerbread and Doughnuts (yes! a chapter on gingerbread and doughnuts!), the introduction suggests that if the recipe uses 1 1/2 cups of flour the pan should be "about 7x7" and a range of cooking times are given for a "moderately slow oven." Many chapters start with a basic recipe, and underneath list a number of variations or suggestions. It seems more likely that a person cooking from this book, rather than a more prescriptive one, would read through the variations and say, "Hmm, I don't have X but I can try Y." That's not to say people aren't creative now, it just seems that Fannie Farmer set an expectation of creativity for cooks using this book.

Browsing through the 38 chapters, including "griddlecakes and waffles," "soup garnishes," and "jams, marmalades, and conserves," I am overwhelmed by the number of new recipes I have to try. Yes, as a vegetarian, there is an entire middle section of the book I can ignore--from plucking chickens to boiling terrapins--but if I only cooked from this book I would still have enough to fill this blog, and our plates, for years. This isn't the last you've heard about this book, and I hope I can capture some of the creativity infused in the book and in my memories of my great grandmother.

The King of Food Mixers, and a Failure

The cookbooklet "Kitchen Tested Recipes" from Sunbeam Mixmaster, the King of Food Mixers (1933) has recipes ranging from mashed potatoes to meatless stew. In between every recipe and on full page ads, the Mixmasters let you in on little secrets: no static in the radio while MIXMASTER runs...MIXMASTER attachments are not trashy...it is impossible to injure yourself with a MIXMASTER food chopper and meat grinder attachment...

There are lots of promising, basic recipes in this book, like popovers, biscuits, angel food cake, orange marmalade, and waffles. Some sound a little unusual, like stuffed peppers that list prunes as an ingredient, spinach loaf, and corn fondu (sic), but even those have potential. The print is tiny so they could fit many recipes, and snippets of wisdom, and supportive letters, into just 40 pages.

The dozens of letters alone are worth the price of the cookbooklet. This kitchen appliance is "indispensable," "perfect," "the pride of my kitchen," and "the finest gift my husband ever gave to me." My favorite is a letter from Mrs. B.E.S from Ithaca, NY who is quoted as simply saying, "MIXMASTER...is the joy of my life!" Sigh.

Now, don't try to print the coupon on the right and use it for your own MIXMASTER attachment because it expired August 30, 1933. Even if you could use it, how would you decide which attachment to get? The mayonnaise oil dropper? The slicer and shredder? The potato peeler? The coffee grinder? The can opener? The knife sharpener? The silver polisher? The grapefruit reamer? The choices are almost endless! (After reading the next paragraph, I'm sure you'll be able to guess which one I would choose).

Rather than attempt one of the standard recipes, I decided to try to make mayonnaise. Now, of course, I don't have the Mixmaster mayonnaise oil dropper attachment (as a matter of fact, I don't have a stand mixer at all; someday, someday). Pressing ahead, I dripped, dripped, dripped oil into a raw egg and just couldn't get it to emulsify. Making mayonnaise is apparently a tough process and after two ruined batches and wasted oil and eggs, I gave up. I don't think that speaks to the quality of the recipe at all, but to the technique of the cook. I think my mother will be glad to hear this recipe didn't work, because she would not sleep for days if she knew her daughter was eating something with raw egg in it. But I am going to try it again someday...salmonella here I come!

Classic Dieting

Let's start with the title: slenderalla cook book. And the picture. Do you see that? The pink silhouette with a 12 inch waist? Is that what I should look like? Is that the pose I should strike after straightening the house and refreshing my make-up and fetching slippers and a scotch on the rocks for my husband when he returns from a long hard day at work? Does the 30 day 1200 calorie a day menu provide enough calories for me to pose and fetch and clean and freshen and straighten and pour? Or have I earned the extra calories in the 1500 calorie a day menu?

Surely this violates my own no-kitsch rule. I mean, really, it has a recipe for crab meat in aspic. Crab. Meat. In. Aspic. But beyond these recipes, beyond the pink silhouette, and a height/weight chart that measures women's height with 2 inch heels on, there are good recipes and surprisingly sound advice and observations.

Sounding like a modern writer, Waldo talks about "freak" diets, including "hard-boiled eggs and grapefruit, 3-day 'miracle' diets, 8-day 'health' diets, 10-day 'wonder' diets, and 18-day 'Hollywood' diets." She warns that these may lead to brief weight loss but may result in boredom and "ravenous hunger." As a woman opposed to ravenous hunger, Waldo had me hooked.

She warns of shifting social patterns with shorter work hours and more television. Emotional eating, the myth (for most people) of physiological reasons for being overweight, and calorie counts for popular foods are all included.

The recipes are well organized and include calorie counts (though the counts seem a little low in some cases and there is no other nutritional information), and there is a large section on desserts since deprivation of things you love isn't necessary for slenderella-wannabes. Chapters are pretty straightforward and include interesting topics such as "pickles and relishes" and "outdoor cookery." Non-kitsch recipes include cheese puffs, pepper caponatina, lentil soup, orange and onion salad, curried eggs, peach pie, and cheese cake.

My first edition Myra Waldo classic was snagged at Fenwick Books, a used bookstore in used in Leonardtown, Maryland. If you want your own copy you can find newer editions online, like the one here.

The Most Boring Picture Ever, but the Bread is Good

Perhaps I should have found something more colorful for my first post. Some berries, or tomatoes, or, if that's too crazy, maybe something with two shades of brown. Instead, it's this: brown bread, with a hint of sweetness and two types of whole grains.

“Cooking with Wholegrains,” a cookbook by Mildred Ellen Orton published in 1951, contains a brief history of whole grains by Vrest Orton. The Ortons operated a grain mill in Vermont, and Mr. Orton notes that prior to 1850 all cookbooks were whole grain cookbooks. The discussion of enriched flour, large companies, and human preference for food that isn’t good for them, is not out of place in 2007. The recipes encourage creativity and there are helpful notes throughout. I snagged my copy at a used bookstore; I don’t see many available online.

For our camping trip, I made a corn meal and whole wheat quick bread that (I’m hoping!) will hold up well in the August heat. It came together very quickly, especially since I ignored the suggestion to sift the dry ingredients into the wet. I know, I know, this can be an important step but I skip it whenever possible. As I am anxiously awaiting an order of non-aluminum baking powder, I substituted a mix of baking soda, arrowroot, and cream of tartar (found in this excellent cookbook), used melted butter instead of shortening, and used a 9x9 pan.

Early American Hot Bread
adapted from “Cooking with Wholegrains”

1 egg
1 cup milk
2 Tbs honey or maple syrup
2/3 cup corn meal
2 ½ tsp baking powder
3 Tbs melted shortening

Grease 8x8 pan and heat oven to 425F.

Beat egg until light; add milk and sweetener. Mix dry ingredients and sift into egg mixture. Add melted shortening. Mix together and pour into pan. Bake 20 minutes.

(The recipe also includes this note: “This hot bread is grand provender for growing kids to thrive on.”)