Everyone has the Joy of Cooking on their shelf at some point, don't they? It's been the go to cookbook for the home for ages. It tells you everything from how to make bread to how to skin a squirrel and prepare it for cooking (at least my copy does. Do these instructions disappear in newer printings?)
Thursday, March 19, 2015
Sunday, March 8, 2015
Golden Bread, Watkins Cookbook (1935)
When I first showed this to my husband, he asked "How is this different than French toast?"
Sunday, February 22, 2015
Chicken Stew with Dumplings (1944)
One of the reasons I want to do this project where I cook from a cookbook I own every week is that I have a very bad habit of winging my meals. Which, in itself, isn't terrible, really. It does mean that my cookbook collection is sadly neglected most of the time, which makes me wonder why I have one if I'm not going to use it.
For the last few weeks I've been guilty of not looking at my books at all. It's been busy, it's been cold, we've been sick... so many reasons to skip the research, throw everything into a pot, and call it dinner.
This week I am hoping to make up for the deficit by making a recipe that is actually 3 recipes combined from one cookbook. It's Chicken Stew with Dumplings, from The Good Housekeeping Cookbook (Oxford University Press, Toronto, 1944).
The preface tp this book declares that it "is concerned with plain cooking. But with good plain cooking". This recipe appears to be the ultimate in plain, simple, quick, easy dinner to throw together. Put everything in a pot, cook for a long while, then mix some dough and drop it into the same pot before eating.
With modern cooking shows, books, and chefs emphasizing browning meat and onions before throwing them into a pot, just adding everything in without preparation was a bit unnerving, but delightfully simple.
For the last few weeks I've been guilty of not looking at my books at all. It's been busy, it's been cold, we've been sick... so many reasons to skip the research, throw everything into a pot, and call it dinner.
This week I am hoping to make up for the deficit by making a recipe that is actually 3 recipes combined from one cookbook. It's Chicken Stew with Dumplings, from The Good Housekeeping Cookbook (Oxford University Press, Toronto, 1944).
The preface tp this book declares that it "is concerned with plain cooking. But with good plain cooking". This recipe appears to be the ultimate in plain, simple, quick, easy dinner to throw together. Put everything in a pot, cook for a long while, then mix some dough and drop it into the same pot before eating.
With modern cooking shows, books, and chefs emphasizing browning meat and onions before throwing them into a pot, just adding everything in without preparation was a bit unnerving, but delightfully simple.
Monday, January 26, 2015
Frankfurter Goulash a la Walter Slezak (The New York Times Cookbook, 1961)
A book that's in good enough shape to still have it's frontispiece with copyright date! This is a pleasant change.
It does beg a couple questions though. Firstly, if I have a bit of a critical attitude towards 1960s cooking, why do I seem to have so many 1960-era cookbooks? Secondly, why do I have so many books in bad enough shape that I have to do research to figure out their ages?
The answer is the same for both questions: I get the majority of my cookbooks second hand. They come from thrift stores, garage sales, and book sales, with a few purchased new if they strike my fancy. Some are in great shape, and some are held together with tape and ingredients from recipes made by former owners. Some I check the dates before buying, and others I don't.
I had picked this New York Times Cookbook because it is in immaculate shape; the previous owner was either a neat freak or didn't actually cook. I didn't realise it was from the 60s until after I had browsed through it and selected the recipe. Even in eras with inedible food, there are the odd moments of yummy genius.
Frankfurter Goulash a la Walter Slezak wasn't necessarily the best recipe in this book, but it certainly looked the most interesting. I love German frankfurters (as opposed to hot dogs which are a different beast entirely), and new recipes to use them in are always welcome. This also looked like it would easily make enough for several lunches for the week.
Walter Slezak was a German actor who was in over a hundred American movies, including The Inspector General with Danny Kaye in 1949. I believe I've seen a couple of his films, but now that I've had one of his family recipes, I feel I should check out more of his work.
This recipe is being modest when it says 6 generous servings. I tried to take into account that produce now might be larger in size than that available in the 1960s, and I used a can of whole tomatoes. I discovered that there are twelve frankfurters in 2 pounds. With each measuring about a foot, this is a lot of frankfurter. Add in the suggested potato and salad, and 6 people would be extremely well fed with this dish.
I did not use 1/4 cup oil. I ended up using about 2 Tbsp worth, that that sufficed. I thought I had caraway seeds, but couldn't find them. I decided to go with rosemary instead. The tomatoes were no salt added, and I didn't add any additional - I think this could end up very salty. With just the frankfurters it seemed enough. If you make this with hot paprika (which I did), it ends up with a nice kick. I had this for lunch with a bit of leftover mashed potato. A very filling and delicious lunch for a cold, wintery day.
Frankfurter Goulash a la Walter Slezak
6 generous servings
1/4 cup vegetable oil or shortening
6 large onions, coarsely chopped
2 cloves garlic, crushed
10 large green peppers, cut into 1 1 /2-inch cubes
1 1/2 tablespoons caraway seeds
2 1/2 cups canned tomatoes, undrained
2 tablespoons paprika
Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste
2 pounds frankfurters, sliced 1/2 inch thick
1. In a large heavy kettle, heat the oil and add the onions and garlic. Cook over moderate heat, stirring with a wooden spoon, until the onions begin to take on colour. Add the green peppers and cook, stirring, five minutes longer. Cover and continue cooking twenty minutes, stirring occasionally.
2. Add the caraway seeds, half the tomatoes and the paprika and cover again. Simmer twenty minutes longer, stirring occasionally. Add the remaining tomatoes, if necessary, to prevent the vegetables from becoming dry.
3. When the goulash has thickened slightly, add the salt and pepper and frankfurter slices. Cover and heat thoroughly. Serve with plain boiled potatoes and a crisp green salad.
It does beg a couple questions though. Firstly, if I have a bit of a critical attitude towards 1960s cooking, why do I seem to have so many 1960-era cookbooks? Secondly, why do I have so many books in bad enough shape that I have to do research to figure out their ages?
The answer is the same for both questions: I get the majority of my cookbooks second hand. They come from thrift stores, garage sales, and book sales, with a few purchased new if they strike my fancy. Some are in great shape, and some are held together with tape and ingredients from recipes made by former owners. Some I check the dates before buying, and others I don't.
I had picked this New York Times Cookbook because it is in immaculate shape; the previous owner was either a neat freak or didn't actually cook. I didn't realise it was from the 60s until after I had browsed through it and selected the recipe. Even in eras with inedible food, there are the odd moments of yummy genius.
Frankfurter Goulash a la Walter Slezak wasn't necessarily the best recipe in this book, but it certainly looked the most interesting. I love German frankfurters (as opposed to hot dogs which are a different beast entirely), and new recipes to use them in are always welcome. This also looked like it would easily make enough for several lunches for the week.
Walter Slezak was a German actor who was in over a hundred American movies, including The Inspector General with Danny Kaye in 1949. I believe I've seen a couple of his films, but now that I've had one of his family recipes, I feel I should check out more of his work.
This recipe is being modest when it says 6 generous servings. I tried to take into account that produce now might be larger in size than that available in the 1960s, and I used a can of whole tomatoes. I discovered that there are twelve frankfurters in 2 pounds. With each measuring about a foot, this is a lot of frankfurter. Add in the suggested potato and salad, and 6 people would be extremely well fed with this dish.
I did not use 1/4 cup oil. I ended up using about 2 Tbsp worth, that that sufficed. I thought I had caraway seeds, but couldn't find them. I decided to go with rosemary instead. The tomatoes were no salt added, and I didn't add any additional - I think this could end up very salty. With just the frankfurters it seemed enough. If you make this with hot paprika (which I did), it ends up with a nice kick. I had this for lunch with a bit of leftover mashed potato. A very filling and delicious lunch for a cold, wintery day.
Frankfurter Goulash a la Walter Slezak
6 generous servings
1/4 cup vegetable oil or shortening
6 large onions, coarsely chopped
2 cloves garlic, crushed
10 large green peppers, cut into 1 1 /2-inch cubes
1 1/2 tablespoons caraway seeds
2 1/2 cups canned tomatoes, undrained
2 tablespoons paprika
Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste
2 pounds frankfurters, sliced 1/2 inch thick
1. In a large heavy kettle, heat the oil and add the onions and garlic. Cook over moderate heat, stirring with a wooden spoon, until the onions begin to take on colour. Add the green peppers and cook, stirring, five minutes longer. Cover and continue cooking twenty minutes, stirring occasionally.
2. Add the caraway seeds, half the tomatoes and the paprika and cover again. Simmer twenty minutes longer, stirring occasionally. Add the remaining tomatoes, if necessary, to prevent the vegetables from becoming dry.
3. When the goulash has thickened slightly, add the salt and pepper and frankfurter slices. Cover and heat thoroughly. Serve with plain boiled potatoes and a crisp green salad.
Friday, January 23, 2015
Apple Sauerkraut Casserole (Chatelaine Cookbook, ca 1964?)
I'm very late in posting this. The recipe was cooked on Sunday and has been entirely eaten as I type this. It was cooked last week, so let's call this a bad case of life but a fulfillment of my goal, shall we?
This is from a fairly battered and well used copy of The Chatelaine Cookbook. There is no copyright page, it's fallen out along the way. Google tells me that Elaine Collett, the woman who wrote the introduction to this cookbook, was Food Editor at Chatelaine between 1956 and 1975. As there is an inscription in the front dated 1964, I'm going to assume this was an edition from the early 60s. 1964 is as good a date as any without having the time to do an in depth search.
This cookbook has its scary recipes, as most cookbooks from this era do. I stayed well away from the aspics and mousse, and chose this recipe for the familiar ingredients being combined in a way that sounded delicious. I also chose it for its simplicity; the bad case of life being particularly bad this week I didn't want anything too fussy.
I'm lucky I live in an area where finding fresh sauerkraut is not a huge challenge, thereby bypassing the tinny flavour that sauerkraut in a can has. I found some weisswurst (white sausage) on sale at the local German deli, and decided to go with that. I used sweet apples that I had on hand that needed using up, and an unoaked chardonnay.
End result was a mild tasting, slightly sweet casserole. It smelled incredible while cooking, and was absolutely delicious. You could really change this up with different sausage and apples, giving it some variety.
Apple Sauerkraut Casserole
The Chatelaine Cookbook, approx. 1964.
1.5 to 2 lbs smoked OR Polish sausage
4 tart apples peeled and cut into eights
1 (20-oz) can sauerkraut
1/2 to 2/3 cup dry white wine OR dry Vermouth
2 tsp sugar
Cut the sausage into 6 to 8 pieces and brown slowly on all sides in a lightly greased frying pan. Arrange in a 1 1/2 quart oblong baking dish or casserole. Drain the sauerkraut and rinse in water. Drain again and spread over the apples. Mix wine and sugar together and pour over the top. Cover and bake at 350F for 1 to 1 1/4 hours. Serve with baked or scalloped potatoes. Makes 6 servings.
Sunday, January 11, 2015
Tomatoes and Macaroni, Girl's Own Paper, WWI
This copy of the Girl's Own Annual has lost its frontispiece with copyright information. It refers to Queen Mary and has lots of helpful information for "The War", so it appears to have been published during World War One. I haven't been able to find anything that refers to a year in its pages, so the best guess I have is that this recipe dates from the 1914-1918 period.
This recipe comes from an article labelled "Meatless Menus for Lunch or Dinner for Five or Six Persons". There's three menus of about five dishes each on this page. I was curious because it's basically macaroni and cheese minus the cheese, an d using nut butter instead of regular butter for the roux.
According to the Internet, peanut butter was used during World War One as an alternative to fats and protein that were being rationed. In this recipe, I'm not sure if the peanut butter is substituting for the butter or cheese or both in a mac and cheese casserole.
I decided to make this pretty much as is, except to increase quantities to turn it into a casserole for meals this week. Since the weight of macaroni came out to 1/4 of a package of macaroni in the cupboard, I multiplied everything by 4 to make use of the whole box and make a decent amount for meals.
I wasn't sure how this would turn out, so I wasn't sure how to flavour it beyond the recommended salt. So I didn't do anything, figuring we could add chili pepper flakes at serving if needed.
The nut butter I have in the house is all natural crunchy, and the breadcrumbs I keep on hand are Panko. I'm not sure if either of these are authentic to the period - I'm guessing not for England - but it's what I have so I went with it.
I sliced the tomatoes, and mixed them in a casserole dish with whole wheat macaroni. I made the roux of the peanut butter and flour, poured in some 2% milk, and cooked until thickened. I poured it into the casserole dish, pondered cooking temperature and time possibilities. I decided to go with my standard 350F for 45-50 minutes that usually works well for casseroles.
This dish has a definite hint of peanut taste, and not much else. It's edible but very very bland. And there's not much colour. It's incredibly pale, considering it has 2 pounds of tomatoes. I expected them to break down into the sauce more, and wasn't prepared for the colour.
What would I do next time? I'd add onions, use smooth peanut butter (to get a more even and thorough peanut taste), use a fuller fat milk (for flavour and mouthfeel), and some hot paprika to give it more kick. I think adding green peppers or other vegetables in addition to the tomatoes wouldn't hurt either. Some butter or oil drizzled over the breadcrumbs would add some colour, too.
It's a good base recipe, and I do think I will make it again. I'll just be adding a lot more flavour to it next time.
Tomatoes and Macaroni
Break 3 ounces of macaroni into half-inch lengths and boil in salted water till tender; drain off the water. Melt 1 ounce of nut butter in a saucepan. stir in half an ounce of flour and half a pint of milk, boil three minutes, adding salt to taste. Arrange half a pound of tomatoes, which have been cut in slices, in a pie-dish with the macaroni, pour the sauce over, and sprinkle some breadcrumbs on top. Bake about twenty minutes, and serve in same dish.
This recipe comes from an article labelled "Meatless Menus for Lunch or Dinner for Five or Six Persons". There's three menus of about five dishes each on this page. I was curious because it's basically macaroni and cheese minus the cheese, an d using nut butter instead of regular butter for the roux.
According to the Internet, peanut butter was used during World War One as an alternative to fats and protein that were being rationed. In this recipe, I'm not sure if the peanut butter is substituting for the butter or cheese or both in a mac and cheese casserole.
I decided to make this pretty much as is, except to increase quantities to turn it into a casserole for meals this week. Since the weight of macaroni came out to 1/4 of a package of macaroni in the cupboard, I multiplied everything by 4 to make use of the whole box and make a decent amount for meals.
I wasn't sure how this would turn out, so I wasn't sure how to flavour it beyond the recommended salt. So I didn't do anything, figuring we could add chili pepper flakes at serving if needed.
The nut butter I have in the house is all natural crunchy, and the breadcrumbs I keep on hand are Panko. I'm not sure if either of these are authentic to the period - I'm guessing not for England - but it's what I have so I went with it.
I sliced the tomatoes, and mixed them in a casserole dish with whole wheat macaroni. I made the roux of the peanut butter and flour, poured in some 2% milk, and cooked until thickened. I poured it into the casserole dish, pondered cooking temperature and time possibilities. I decided to go with my standard 350F for 45-50 minutes that usually works well for casseroles.
This dish has a definite hint of peanut taste, and not much else. It's edible but very very bland. And there's not much colour. It's incredibly pale, considering it has 2 pounds of tomatoes. I expected them to break down into the sauce more, and wasn't prepared for the colour.
What would I do next time? I'd add onions, use smooth peanut butter (to get a more even and thorough peanut taste), use a fuller fat milk (for flavour and mouthfeel), and some hot paprika to give it more kick. I think adding green peppers or other vegetables in addition to the tomatoes wouldn't hurt either. Some butter or oil drizzled over the breadcrumbs would add some colour, too.
It's a good base recipe, and I do think I will make it again. I'll just be adding a lot more flavour to it next time.
Tomatoes and Macaroni
Break 3 ounces of macaroni into half-inch lengths and boil in salted water till tender; drain off the water. Melt 1 ounce of nut butter in a saucepan. stir in half an ounce of flour and half a pint of milk, boil three minutes, adding salt to taste. Arrange half a pound of tomatoes, which have been cut in slices, in a pie-dish with the macaroni, pour the sauce over, and sprinkle some breadcrumbs on top. Bake about twenty minutes, and serve in same dish.
Celery Sauce, from Girl's Own Paper, Autumn 1928
Girl's Own Paper was a semi-annual British publication that ran from 1880 into the 1950s. It's a fascinating mix of stories, crafts, recipes, and fashion. I have several copies of the bound annuals (one year in a hardcover binding), mostly from the late 19th-century through the 1930s.
I have always wanted to use some of the recipes in these books, a task made more difficult by the lack of indices in the volumes, and the random nature of the recipes. These aren't cookbooks, and the readers are assumed to have a certain amount of cultural knowledge we don't have today. For example, measurements are given in dessert spoons, teacups, and breakfast cups in the book I'm looking at today, from 1928. Sizes of dishware have increased dramatically since the early part of the 20th century. Some sets of dishware don't have teacups anymore, just mugs. And what exactly is a breakfast cup anyway?
There is a page of "Vegetable Soups and Sauces" in the autumn paper, by a Cora Hewett. It offers recipes for chestnut, lentil, and celery root purees, as well as sauces made from tomato and celery, amongst others. They're all fairly simple and seem like they'd be edible enough and work with modern tastes; I have celery that needs using up though, so I've decided to go with the celery sauce.
There is a certain amount of cultural reference I'm missing here as well. While there are instructions for making the sauce, there is absolutely no indication of what this should be eaten with. As I've never heard of celery sauce before I did an internet search. Google brings up a selection of slightly different versions for chicken, pasta, steak, and fish. Most of the recipes that come up are dairy based, but I think the general premise would be the same.
It's also missing measurements and times. My husband and I had a discussion on how we felt this should go and ended up deciding that most of the liquid should come from the celery and the stock should just aid in the boiling down. We couldn't decide on if it should get boiled down to much, or remain a bit chunky; I ended up leaving it chunky, and thickening the stock around the celery. I added some salt, pepper, and a bit of sugar. The egg yolks didn't seem necessary once I'd gotten that far so I left them out.
It ends up being a pale green chunky gravy that tastes mildly of celery. The sugar helps to cut the bitterness down. We had it over a baked potato, which made the side to a turkey breast wrapped in bacon.
It's actually pretty good. This recipe would be great for using up those bits of celery that invariably end up getting tossed in the compost.
Celery Sauce
Use either roots or stalks of celery. Chop celery fine and boil it in a little stock. Melt 1 tablespn. butter in saucepan, add 2 tablspn. flour. Add stock with the celery to it. Flavour with salt, pepper, a soupcon of sugar. One or two yolks of egg stirred into the sauce just as it is ready will improve the sauce, which must on no account be allowed to boil afterwards.
I have always wanted to use some of the recipes in these books, a task made more difficult by the lack of indices in the volumes, and the random nature of the recipes. These aren't cookbooks, and the readers are assumed to have a certain amount of cultural knowledge we don't have today. For example, measurements are given in dessert spoons, teacups, and breakfast cups in the book I'm looking at today, from 1928. Sizes of dishware have increased dramatically since the early part of the 20th century. Some sets of dishware don't have teacups anymore, just mugs. And what exactly is a breakfast cup anyway?
There is a page of "Vegetable Soups and Sauces" in the autumn paper, by a Cora Hewett. It offers recipes for chestnut, lentil, and celery root purees, as well as sauces made from tomato and celery, amongst others. They're all fairly simple and seem like they'd be edible enough and work with modern tastes; I have celery that needs using up though, so I've decided to go with the celery sauce.
There is a certain amount of cultural reference I'm missing here as well. While there are instructions for making the sauce, there is absolutely no indication of what this should be eaten with. As I've never heard of celery sauce before I did an internet search. Google brings up a selection of slightly different versions for chicken, pasta, steak, and fish. Most of the recipes that come up are dairy based, but I think the general premise would be the same.
It's also missing measurements and times. My husband and I had a discussion on how we felt this should go and ended up deciding that most of the liquid should come from the celery and the stock should just aid in the boiling down. We couldn't decide on if it should get boiled down to much, or remain a bit chunky; I ended up leaving it chunky, and thickening the stock around the celery. I added some salt, pepper, and a bit of sugar. The egg yolks didn't seem necessary once I'd gotten that far so I left them out.
It ends up being a pale green chunky gravy that tastes mildly of celery. The sugar helps to cut the bitterness down. We had it over a baked potato, which made the side to a turkey breast wrapped in bacon.
It's actually pretty good. This recipe would be great for using up those bits of celery that invariably end up getting tossed in the compost.
Celery Sauce
Use either roots or stalks of celery. Chop celery fine and boil it in a little stock. Melt 1 tablespn. butter in saucepan, add 2 tablspn. flour. Add stock with the celery to it. Flavour with salt, pepper, a soupcon of sugar. One or two yolks of egg stirred into the sauce just as it is ready will improve the sauce, which must on no account be allowed to boil afterwards.
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