Wednesday, August 16, 2017

Souper Heinz

When I was a kid, we lived not too far from a Heinz factory. We always knew back-to-school time was approaching when we could smell ketchup in the air. (I'm sure that's not the only reason I can't stand the condiment that everyone else seems to love, but it's probably part of the equation....)

Even though everyone thinks ketchup when they think of Heinz, I have a cookbook that will probably surprise American readers. 


For Variety Cook with Soup is a Heinz company cook booklet from 1977 trying to get home cooks to use Heinz rather than Campbell's soups in all their home cooking. (Even though Heinz gave up on selling soup in America, it's still a thing in the U.K.)

What kinds of delights did Heinz soups promise? There were, unsurprisingly, plenty of negligible casserole recipes calling for cream soups:

Corn Pudding is probably exactly as cheerless as you imagine a can of cream of celery soup and some extra eggs baked into a can of creamed corn might be.

I just picked this recipe because I love the ear of corn lying back on its husk, enjoying a summer afternoon, blissfully unaware of the fate that awaits....

Some recipes get pretty photo spreads.

What is this vision so bountiful that it necessitates an overflowing cornucopia in the background?

It's Harvest Bean Bake, for all those people who can't decide whether they'd rather have a tomato-soup-meat-sauce, a can of beans, or a serving of baked apples. Just throw them all together and bake for a real harvest "treat."

Of course, any soup cookbook would be a failure if it limited soup use to casseroles and skillet dinners. 

All the old cookbooks needed at least one recipe of foods wrapped in biscuit dough:


This ring is Beef Carrousel. The picture on the back cover is not quite as cute as the one with the recipe, though:


I love the little cows running around on the merry-go-round, especially the way that some of their tails are drawn so it almost looks like they're kicking up an extra leg. Maybe they're trying to run away from a recipe that will mix them with cream of mushroom soup before encasing them in biscuit dough and dumping on a leftover mushroom soup and tomato soup topping. Their resistance is futile.

My last recipe for today says, "Forget soup and sandwich; soup should be on the sandwich":

It doesn't dump barely-diluted condensed cream of something soup on just any old sandwich, either. It's over a baked tuna salad and cranberry sauce sandwich! What fun!

The recipes may be barely passable at best and "Run away!" at worst, but the pictures make this a fun booklet to page through on a lazy afternoon when I'm happy not to smell ketchup hanging in the air. 

Saturday, August 12, 2017

Kentucky-Fried, Boston-Style Surprise!

Fill in the blank to find out this weekend's theme food: Kentucky-Fried C_____.

You guessed right! 


Well, you guessed right as long as you guessed corn. If you guessed "chicken" like a normal person, then Favorite Recipes of American Vegetables Including Fruits (1968) is very disappointed in you. It's corn season! 

So go out to the field and grab some fat, juicy roasting ears the way grandma used to.


Or just open up a can of creamed corn and add extra milk and butter. Hey, there are all kinds of grandmas, and some of them prefer cooking with their can openers.

How about spreading corn with something luscious and grilling it over the coals?


Unless there's a ton of bacon (more than one slice and secured with something) to hold the peanut butter in, I have a feeling it will mostly melt off and cause peanut-scented smoke. Also, I'm thinking this is either a terrible idea (peanut butter sweet corn?) or a great idea (peanut butter sweet corn!). I can't decide whether this combination would ruin two good things or make them better. 

If you can't decide between serving a yummy picnic side and a mediocre-at-best picnic side, you can always combine them:


Boston-Style Baked Corn: for when you want to turn corn into something people eat because it's there, rather than because they actually want it.

And finally, a corn creation the Pieathletes should be happy I didn't send to the Pieathalon:


Canned corn! Canned luncheon meat! All cooked in a cheesy custard and topped with crushed crackers. What a fitting celebration of a Midwest... summer? Winter? Bounty? Hard times?

We'll just label it "Midwest" and leave it at that... Have a corny weekend! 

Wednesday, August 9, 2017

Not so cool after all

You know how cool your family was if you had a microwave in the 1970s, even if the cookbooks for them were dismal? Well, 50 years before that, the coolest families had a different appliance:

Don't beat me up for using "coolest" to refer to the families lucky enough to have Frigidaire Recipes (second edition, 1929). Let the simplicity of the cover calm your nerves.

A refrigerator was a fancy appliance to have, and if the recipes are any guide, dessert was the single most important reason to own one. The book consists mostly of recipes for "frozen creams," mousses, sherbets, ices, parfaits, dessert sauces, and ways to dress up commercial ice cream if one had to resort to buying rather than making it.

The desserts sound pretty good for the most part, unless you're a kid:


Then you get treated to congealed leftover hot cereal with stewed dried fruit or canned fruit dumped on top. It hardly seems fair when the grownups get chocolate Bavarian cream or pistachio mousse.

The book also offers some chilled salads.


Even if you think lamb with oranges and French dressing sounds lovely, I think we can all agree that "cold waste lamb, cubed" is not the most appetizing description. I know it probably simply means "leftover lamb," but it sounds kind of like something the lamb left in the pasture instead.

The slim volume suggests a few chilled cocktail appetizers as well. The section even has an illustration to show off their elegance:


Lovely as it looks, crab flake cocktail is pretty boring-- just canned crab with cocktail sauce in a chilled glass nestled in a bed of ice. The most interesting cocktail did not get a picture:


Raisins soaked in sherry and topped with catsup, lemon juice, and a few chopped almonds! Say what you will, but whatever is served after a raisin cocktail has got to look better by comparison, even if it is cold waste lamb and clumped up cream of wheat.

Saturday, August 5, 2017

Peachy, but not always keen

It's that time of year when we get overrun with little creatures so chubby and fuzzy I almost feel bad when I butcher them. They never resist much (unless they're of the clingstone variety), so the guilt fades pretty quickly. I'm talking, of course, about peaches. What should (or shouldn't) you do with these furry little guys?

Your best bet comes from Rival Crock-Pot Cooking (1975). The recipe is a shameless plug for the brand's Bread 'n' Cake Bake pan accessory, but it sounds yummy:


Packed with brown sugar, spices, and of course the titular peaches and pecans, Peach Pecan Coffee Cake sounds like the kind of recipe that will make the house smell so good you will magically levitate when the aroma wafts through the house.

If you need your sad gelatin mold fix, Better Homes and Gardens Good Food on a Budget (1971) offers Spicy Peach Mold:


Made with orange gelatin, crushed pineapple, various spices, and the always-questionable addition of vinegar, the mold might pretty effectively hide the peaches, but how much can you expect from an old-time Jell-O salad? At least it doesn't have American cheese and celery too.

If you want something with an innocuous name covering a dark secret, The Stuart Simmers Cook Book (The Pine Needles Mothers' Association of The Pine School in Stuart, Florida, ca. 1970) offers Georgia Peaches:


The name sounds sweetly southern, and the recipe starts out as a fairly typical pickled peaches recipe. (Peaches in vinegar are emphatically NOT my thing, but I get that some of you think they're acceptable. Who am I to judge people who like perfectly good fruit that tastes like it's been lightly seasoned with barf?) However, even if you like pickled peaches, I doubt that you ask for them to be broiled with cinnamon-covered onions before serving.

Here's another inexplicable twist on a peachy classic from Woman's Day Collector's Cook Book (1960):


Cheese-Peach salad takes that dieter's standard of cottage cheese and peach halves on lettuce, and makes it exciting (and not so diet-friendly) with mustard mayonnaise thinned out with whipped cream. In short, an unexciting low-cal lunch is made simultaneously less tasty and more caloric, a trick that will please no one.

If you're just looking for straight-up odd, then check out this recipe from Robert Ackart's Cooking in a Casserole (1973):


If you've ever thought fish (the book recommends sole or flounder) cooked in brown butter needed to be punched up with (or maybe just punched by) a ginger-peach syrup, this is the recipe for you! It's basically a sundae with fish instead of ice cream. What could be more summery-- except, perhaps, asking "Why the hell not at this point?" and just adding a scoop of ice cream too. Filets with Peaches and Ginger à la Mode it is...

Wednesday, August 2, 2017

Foil: The Final Frontier

August... It's usually still pretty hot, so in the '70s when the energy crisis meant cutting back on air conditioning, this would have been a good time to retreat to the dark, cool basement. 401 Party and Holiday Ideas from Alcoa (Conny Von Hagen, 1971) has just the project for that. Have a space party!


This may be Alcoa's biggest idea yet to sell yards and yards and yards of foil. Just look at the space party spread:


Space apparently means lots and lots and lots of foil. Foil wallpaper! Foil-covered tables! Weird foil balls full of apples or pretzels or something hanging from the ceiling!

You think I'm kidding about that foil being wallpaper?


I shit you not! The foil is "a permanent finish and can be applied to any wall." Just cover the walls in wallpaper paste "and apply slightly crushed foil." If the hours spent covering the walls with slightly crushed foil "wallpaper" are not enough fun for you, go back and "paint walls lightly with oil paint-- a section at a time-- and rub off." Why anyone would want to spend a few hours painting foil wallpaper and then rubbing the paint right back off again, I have no idea, but apparently people in the '70s had endless amounts of free time since they didn't have cell phones. Next time somebody tries to make you feel bad about how much more you could get done if you weren't always messing with your phone, just think, "Well, I could be covering my basement walls with foil, then painting them and rubbing the paint off again." Guilt trip averted!

The hanging foil spheres each take 2-3 rolls of aluminum foil wadded around a beach ball, so if you don't use the full case of foil to cover the walls, you can still make spheres. The book never explains why these containers are spacey. Maybe they're supposed to be planets full of snacks? In any case, they're practical because, as the book assures us, "You will use them many times over." For what, I'm not sure. My guess is that they will be presented as evidence against you in some dispute that is only now beginning to take shape....

You can even trap one of the kids in one of these spheres if you call it a space helmet.


Yeah, mom. I'm really enjoying this. Can I take it off now?

Of course, a space party needs space snacks. This snack is a familiar one, but it seems so much cooler with its new name:


I'm calling English muffin pizzas "Moon Pizzas" from now on!

Well, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to cover my basement in foil and rubbed-off paint. Maybe if there's time, I'll make Moon Pizzas.

Saturday, July 29, 2017

Make your own grill with household items!

Happy weekend! I feel like having a little fun with some recipes that double as craft projects.

Okay, maybe these instructions from Better Homes and Gardens Barbecues and Picnics book (1963) aren't exactly a recipe, but the project can be used to make a recipe:


Flowerpot grills! Just line pots with foil, gravel, and more foil, light a few briquets, and cook your kabobs right on top. It's so cute and easy that I almost wish that I had non-plastic flowerpots, and that I could be trusted with an open flame.

I still might be able to pull off the pineapple solar system in the background, or the pot bursting with green onions, crinkle-cut carrots, and olives... though the illusion that one is ripping crudites right out of the dirt might make this less-popular side just that much more likely to be leftover.

Now here is a craft project I don't want you to make on the grill. Imagine picking up a charred corn husk, pulling it back with the expectation of sweet, tender summer corn and finding...


A dead fish. A whole dead fish, at that! I'm pretty sure I'd just drop the sucker right on the patio out of surprise... and then I'd feel bad yet again for being a socially awkward person.

Here's the recipe, but remember...


...friends don't serve friends dead fish in corn husks. If you have to try these, serve them only to your enemies.

Wednesday, July 26, 2017

Having some food with our foil

Has Alcoa been providing us with enough foily goodness this year? Well, they're good for funny/ horrifying decorating ideas, but lighter in the recipe department. Today we'll fix that shortcoming with recipes from Reynolds Wrap Creative Cooking with Aluminum Foil (Eleanor Lynch, 1967).

I know the salad on the cover is served in a lettuce-lined bowl, but something about the lettuce's color and texture makes it look like tissue paper to me. Yum! Oily green tissue paper...

The salad gets upstaged by the prettily browned chicken, heady beer, and cheery place mat, so I guess it doesn't have to feel too self-conscious.

All kinds of recipes await inside. Some are pretty simple:


Smear ketchup on frankfurters. Roll in cornflake crumbs. Bake on heavy duty foil. (Why we want ketchupy cornflakes on hot dogs is unexplained, but that's no surprise. You just gotta do seemingly random shit to food in these old cookbooks because it's your job.)

Some recipes lead to lengthy multi-serve sandwiches that make me feel oddly sad about their dismemberment:


The cheese diamond pattern makes me think this sandwich is a poor snake getting hacked up. I'd add some olive eyes and a pimento tongue to complete the illusion.

This "snake" isn't made out of snake:


It's essentially meat loaf baked right on top of the bread, so every slice can sop up all the fat lovely juices that run out of the meat as this behemoth bakes.

Some recipes are a little more complicated...


...and they fall into good old "bananas and meat" territory. These bananas are broiled over ham with honey and Parmesan cheese, along with some green beans and tomatoes to round it out. (I guess it's not creative enough to be happy with the classic Italian flavors and leave out the honey and bananas?)

These recipes may not have the flash of the Alcoa decorations, but they have... Well, uh, they have ingredients. We could eat them, unlike, say, some circus animals and anxiety-inducing clowns made out of wadded up foil. Not that we would necessarily be more likely to eat these than the clowns, but the point is, we could. We could.