How the Housewife Stole Christmas

My inner vintage housewife went toe to toe with my former self two days ago in the kitchen.

You see, my ol' reliable holiday gift for coworkers has always been quick breads. Wrapped with the most festive of trimmings, but always baked from a mix. I guess I just never trusted myself to bake anything better! Last year, I found a gingerbread mix that I really liked the looks of and it seemed to get good reviews from the folks I gave it to --- so as the holidays rolled 'round again this year, I thought I was all set. I stocked up on several boxes of the same mix along with the right size tins and an extra box of eggs. Even found a mix for spiced apple bread made by the same manufacturer, so picked up a couple boxes of that as well.

My first batch of breads on Sunday evening came out looking - and smelling - just as good as they usually do. I wrapped 'em up and handed 'em out. Not feeling a lick of guilt that they weren't homemade. I'd never have confessed the truth to the people I gave them to, but then again they never asked.

Monday evening, I went back to work on a second batch of breads. This time, I was curious. The gingerbread was yummy. The spiced apple bread --- well, it was okay, but nothing to write home about. Kind of dry, actually. And there was no mistaking from the texture that this was not homemade. I couldn't give any more of these spiced apple breads away! And just then - standing in the middle of my kitchen with all the remnants of "baking" surrounding me - my inner vintage housewife took over. Do you know the scene in How the Grinch Stole Christmas where the Grinch's heart grows three sizes at once? That was my inner vintage housewife three nights ago, coaching me through this domestic crisis.

"You can do better than this," she told me. "Come on. Think back. You've baked some great things over the past year. The Dried Apricot Cake, the Blueberry Pudding. You know how to do this." I leafed through my vintage cookbooks, looking for just the right recipe. The breads needed to be ready on Tuesday, so I was restricted to just the ingredients I had in the house. This in and of itself would have meant disaster one year ago when I didn't have anything in the house! This year, my pantry was stocked with all the baking essentials and my fridge was full of fruit. I finally settled on the Blueberry Pudding recipe from The American Woman's Cook Book (1941). It's a Cottage Pudding - cake, really - with fresh blueberries in the batter. (I added a streusel topping.) I washed up the dishes I'd need to bake with in the morning and went to bed.

Early Tuesday morning, the battle began. Adrenaline was coursing through my body as I sifted the dry ingredients, creamed the shortening and sugar, measured out the vanilla, and washed the berries. Was I actually going to give people something I'd baked from scratch? Better make enough to sample it before I gave any of it away. I petitioned the Range Gods for mercy: "Oven, don't fail me now." Much to my surprise - but probably not to my inner vintage housewife's --- the Blueberry Puddings were ready in plenty of time. And tasted very good if I do say so myself! I felt an unusual sense of pride as I gave this batch of goodies away. Even tried to homemade up the gingerbreads by adding some cinnamon icing I whipped together while the Puddings were in the oven.

If y'all could sit down and visit with me this afternoon, I'd cut you a slice. Merry Christmas, dear readers! Best wishes to you all for a wondrous, joyful holiday.

And the Grinch, with his Grinch feet ice cold in the snow,
Stood puzzling and puzzling:
"How could it be so?
It came without ribbons! It came without tags!
It came without packages, boxes or bags!"
He puzzled and puzzed, till his puzzler was sore.

Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn't before:
"Maybe Christmas," he thought, "doesn't come from a store--
Maybe Christmas--perhaps--means a little bit more."

And what happened then--well, in Whoville they say
That the Grinch's small heart grew three sizes that day.
And then the true meaning of Christmas came through,
And the Grinch found the strength of ten Grinches--plus two.

And now that his heart didn't feel quite so tight,
He whizzed with his load through the bright morning light.
With a smile in his soul, he descended Mount Crumpet,
Cheerily blowing Who! Who! on his trumpet.

Back to the Basics: The Weekly Edition - cont.

Even steven on the scales this morning. I weighed in at 143 --- same as last Sunday. That's very okay with me this time 'round. I had a small mass removed from the inside of my leg about ten days ago and - during the first half of this last week - I wasn't able to take my daily walk. It was a tiny incision and it's healing nicely, so I was able to start walking again after taking just a week off. Anyway, that's why I'm pleased as can be just to break even today!

How are your holiday preparations coming? Come to think of it, some of you may be celebrating the holidays already. Hanukkah is already in full swing... At Mass yesterday evening, the priest urged us during this third week of Advent to "set anxiety aside" and rejoice in the season. So I'm taking a break from that never-ending Christmas list this morning to bake some Christmas cookies with Kitten and Poppet. I think we'll try some simple recipes. Cookies they'll be able to help cutting, rolling into balls, and decorating. Maybe some gingerbread men and sugar cookies shaped like stars.

The holidays are the one time when the only recipe that will do is an old family recipe. Isn't it funny how something as simple as a little card with a list of ingredients and instructions - something as easy as the way a cookie tastes - can bridge the decades and take us back to our own childhood? People spend thousands of dollars trying to "make memories" for their children by taking them to places like Disneyworld and planning fantastic birthday parties complete with catering, jumping castles, and paid entertainment --- and yet the things children carry forward with them and look back on with fondness are often some of the simplest things of all. Like working in the kitchen or the yard with a parent. Or the cherished ornaments brought carefully out of their wrappings every year and hung on the tree. How easily the taste of a beloved recipe reminds us of helping a parent or grandparent make that recipe and sharing it with them at the kitchen table! I wonder if my Nana could ever have known she was creating such memories as we watched her take a warm, gooey pan of sticky buns from the oven or cut a piece of idiot's delight for her granddaughters.

I've been working hard these days on getting back to the basics when to comes to my weekly chores. This past week, I was able to get each of my weekly chores done on time on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday evenings. This week, I'm going to strive to get everything done on time through Friday evening. Here's a list of my weekly tasks for each of the weeknights. Wish me luck!

Monday: Washing. Fold and put away wash. Prep ironing.

Tuesday: Ironing. Put away ironing.

Wednesday: Light marketing. Put out fresh linen in the bathroom.

Thursday: Weekly cleaning of my bedroom.

Friday: Weekly cleaning of my kitchen.

Let Them Eat Cake!

I've been struggling with the same 2 lbs. for about a month now... Weighed in at 147 - again - this morning. Could this be the dreaded plateau? Or is it just that my body's been through the wringer during the last few days and I'm retaining water? All I know is that I weighed in at 143 before going into surgery on Thursday. (It was a great moment!) I'm slowly but surely taking up my exercises again. The walking feels good, but I'm being extra careful with any of the stretches, etc. that involve my chest or arms. I indulged in a little bit of "comfort eating" on Thursday evening and Friday, so I'm trying to rein that in as well. I'm not beating myself up about it. These 2 lbs. may disappear just as quickly as they reappeared.

Otherwise, I seem to be healing normally. I'm still taking the ibuprofen and using cold compresses to keep the swelling down, but there doesn't seem to be any bruising yet at the site of the incision. And I don't look lopsided either! I was a little worried at the news that this mass was 2 cm. in diameter --- my breasts aren't big enough these days for 2 cm. to go unnoticed.

Hmmm. I wonder if there's a fun way to segue from breast size to oven temperatures...

I've been baking a cake this morning for my father's birthday. My folks arrived in town yesterday afternoon for the winter. I'm not sure they're feeling very festive - it hasn't yet been two weeks since we lost Nana - but I know they're relieved to be here and we'd like to mark the occasion in some way. It's not a fancy cake. I'd love to have had the energy to try some vintage cake and icing recipes. It's just a Betty Crocker mix for a butter pecan cake with some coconut pecan frosting. From a can. Eek! Sacrilege. I am baking it in a chiffon cake pan, though, and that's a very '40s shape.

The thing I wanted to say was that I noticed that the times and temperatures given on the back of the cake mix box are right on the money when it comes to my oven. Now this definitely isn't the case for me when it comes to vintage recipes. My oven always seems to run too hot for recipes from my 1945 cookbook. I invariably have to set the temperature about 25 degrees less than the vintage recipes instruct me to and remove whatever I'm baking from the oven about five minutes ahead of time --- or risk ending up with something burnt and dried out. I used to think it was my oven, but now I'm thinking that the ovens of yesteryear just weren't as well insulated as modern ovens. So they had to bake things at higher temperatures and for longer periods of time. That's my theory, anyway. Have any of you who regularly bake using recipes from this era found this to be the case?

Some of the fine ingredients that go into this sensational Betty Crocker Cake Mix can't be bought in stores. So a woman simply couldn't put them in her own cake! What's more, in her own kitchen, a woman can't duplicate the scientific measuring and blending of ingredients that go into the mix. And, remember, this isn't just a cake mix, it's a Betty Crocker Cake Mix!

Actually, cake mixes aren't entirely un-vintage. General Mills introduced three Betty Crocker cake mixes in 1948: GingerCake, Devil's Food, and PartyCake. The PartyCake mix could be used to bake a white cake, yellow cake, or spice cake - depending on whether you added egg whites, whole eggs, or spices to the mix. Cake mixes cost 35 to 37 cents per box - which translates to just over $3 today. With faith that science and new technologies could solve all problems, the post-war era was prime for the success of such products as cake mixes. What you and I know with hindsight is that no cake mix on the market beats the taste and texture of a cake made from scratch, but 60 years ago there was great hope that the cake mix would someday be perfected and produce a cake even better than that.

Cake mix or no cake mix, I'll be enjoying a very small portion myself!

To Sift or Not to Sift

I'm certainly no chef, but I've picked up a few things in the kitchen over the course of the past year. Through trial and error - sometimes a very messy error indeed - I'm gradually learning some of the tricks of the trade that most 1940s housewives would have learned as children watching and working in the kitchen with their mothers and grandmothers.

My mom was a great cook, bless her heart, but she did all the work for us when it came to meal preparation. Once in a while, she brought us into her domain to help with a batch of cookies or salad or something, but we were children of the '80s. Moms of that era probably wanted to believe that their daughters wouldn't need to know all this "mundane" stuff. That by the time we were women, technology and modern industry would have replaced the need to prepare three meals a day from scratch --- and clean up after them, too!

So I'm starting a little late.

At any rate, one of the things I've discovered about baking is just how important it is to sift your dry ingredients. It's such a simple step and yet so key to getting great results. Taking a few extra minutes to sift together all your dry ingredients - flour, salt, sugar, baking powder, spices, baking soda, etc. - can make such a difference. Thoroughly blended ingredients make for a muffin or cookie or cake with a more even texture and flavor. And you never have to worry about biting into one of those dreadful baking soda clumps again! I always used to skip this step, thinking I could blend the ingredients just as thoroughly by mixing them with a spoon, but I've changed my mind after having some great successes with baking this last year.

One of the little treasures in my small vintage cookbook collection is a late 1930s booklet called Clabber Girl Baking Book, probably a promotional giveaway for customers of Clabber Girl Baking Powder. The author of the booklet writes that flour should be sifted in order to get a more accurate measurement: "Always sift the flour before measuring, and then dip it lightly into the measuring cup. Do not pack the flour into the cup." Some modern baking tipsters online recommend sifting as critical when using finely ground ingredients that tend to clump: baking soda, confectionery sugar, cornstarch, cocoa, and cake flour. Some people point out that sifted flour makes for lighter, fluffier results. Others tell us that sifting is archaic. Important in the days when flour wasn't as finely milled as it is today, but you can get the same results by mixing dry ingredients with a fork or a wooden spoon.

What do you think? Is sifting a must in your kitchen when baking - or did you leave it behind in Home Ec class?

Brown Sugar and Butter

Well, I don't have much to report on my date Saturday afternoon. It never materialized. We got our signals crossed and he apologized profusely, but it turns out email is a terrible way to try and plan something as simple as a cup of coffee. (I could've told you that! I was perfectly willing to give this guy my phone number in the beginning, but now I'm feeling like it's just not worth it.) We're planning to get together on Thursday evening, so I'll keep you posted...

Not much to report here from the home front. I've just finished giving my bathroom its extra special monthly cleaning. This morning's wash has been folded and put away, my ironing is prepped and ready to go tomorrow night, and I'm gearing up for some evening exercises. One of my Sunday rituals is planning my breakfast menus for the week ahead and - as I'll run out of frozen baked goods by the end of the week - I got to pick a new recipe to try next weekend: Butterscotch Biscuits. It's one of about a dozen variations on the basic Baking Powder Biscuit recipe in my 1945 cookbook. Even the name sounds scrumptious! Can't wait to try 'em out.

It occurs to me that butterscotch is a very vintage flavor. You don't see a whole heck of a lot of modern sweets taking advantage of everything that classic combination of brown sugar-and-butter has to offer. Butterscotch pudding mix is still kicking around and you might see somebody toss some butterscotch morsels into a cookie recipe from time to time, but - just for comparison's sake - The American Woman's Cook Book includes eight recipes featuring this flavor: Butterscotch candy (in hard or soft varieties, along with a variation called Maple Scotch), Butterscotch Biscuits, Mock Butterscotch Custard, Butterscotch Pie, Banana Butterscotch Pie, Butterscotch Sauce, Butterscotch Slices (cookies), and Butterscotch Toast. Do you have any tried and true family recipes that could join this line-up? My mom makes some lovely butterscotch brownies she calls Blondies.

Butterscotch was a popular color of the era, too. Have you noticed how much butterscotch-colored bakelite there is out there? From bangles to flatware handles, that rich buttery color was hot.

Oy, can you tell I'm PMSing? I've gone from bitter to butterscotch in a single post!

Streamlining Housework

If you haven't noticed me grumbling about cleaning my kitchen lately, it's because I haven't been. (Grumbling, that is!) When I decided a few weeks ago to split up the big jobs into alternate weeks, it made all the difference in the world. Cleaning the kitchen still means a good solid two hours of work once a week, but the work just seems a lot more manageable than it did before.

And there isn't anything I really enjoy about this particular chore. When the job is done, though, my kitchen looks so nice. I catch myself doing a double take or two just to see how lovely it looks with a shiny sink, clean countertops, and a stovetop that positively gleams! If I can find something interesting on the radio, it always makes the work go faster, and I take a few breaks to drink some water and to put on some hand lotion. The good stuff. If I going to baby my hands at some point during the week, this is definitely the time to do so. Working with all that soap and water can be super drying to the skin.

Speaking of cleansers, soap and water aren't the only things at work in my kitchen these days. I use baking soda when cleaning the interior of the refrigerator/freezer and Comet to scour the sink. Cellulose sponges and dishtowels are my tools of choice, with an occasional Brillo Pad on a stubborn drip pan and - once in a great while - a paper towel. It's funny. On the rare occasions that I'd do any kind of cleaning in my kitchen in the past, I would never have set foot in there without a roll of paper towels and a canister of disinfectant wipes. I guess I was just afraid of having to put any kind of elbow grease to work. I thought chemicals could do the work for me. These days, I can go a month before having to change the roll of paper towels in my kitchen. And that's one of the small rolls! Paper towels get used now only for spot cleaning.

As I get accustomed to the mechanics of cleaning the kitchen, I catch myself finding little ways to make the work go faster. Here's my latest discovery: If I remove the drip pans before scrubbing the stovetop down (Is that what those metal trays under the burners are called?), then pop the lid and clean out underneath the stovetop, then wash the drip pans in the sink --- the stovetop and the area underneath it will be practically air-dried by the time I'm ready to reassemble the whole affair. That means my dishtowel will get less wet on that particular job and I can use it longer before having to replace it with another. I love finding little techniques like this to streamline the work!

Sadly, I don't think there's a soul among the women I talk with on a regular basis who could understand my excitement over something like this. Shoes? They could understand. A decorating idea for a dinner party? They'd get it. We just don't talk about housework in this day and age. It's that hidden thing that must be done, but isn't very fashionable to discuss. How are girls supposed to learn how to maintain a home if it's no longer cool even to mention the process? If our mothers hardly have enough time to keep house themselves - never mind teaching their daughters how to do it - and it isn't fashionable to discuss it with your girlfriends, how are we supposed to learn or better our craft? Housework's become the great unmentionable among women, and yet it's getting done is indispensible.

One of the other things that gives this little housekeeper a thrill these days are the ads for Parkay Margarine and Kraft Dinner that have been preserved along with episodes of The Great Gildersleeve from 1941 and 1942. The ads reference a rhythm to housework that must have been completely familiar to listeners of the era... Kraft Dinner - which we now call plain ol' macaroni and cheese - was billed as a fabulous option for dinner on Monday nights. A night when Mother must have been worn to the bone by the wash... As the announcer describes all the perks of using a product like Parkay Margarine, he mentions the baking that would have been done in a Christian household on Saturdays. (The program was aired lived on Sunday evenings):

I wonder how many of you housewives baked a cake or some cookies yesterday for your Sunday dinner today. A lot of you did, I’m sure, because there’s nothing like that real home-baked flavor. Well, here’s a hint for the next time you bake. For luscious, extra flavor in cookies, cakes, and pastries, use delicious Parkay margarine for the shortening...

My own 1945 menu for dinner this evening features a wartime meatless dish:

Peanut Roast
Pennsylvania Cabbage Salad with Sour Cream Dressing

The dessert, Apricot Whip, is made with raw egg whites, so - rather than play around with salmonella - I may substitute a Dried Apricot Cake. Is there any Parkay in the house?

The Show Must Go On

I made the first of my newly extended walks early this morning at the park - four laps around the track instead of three. By the end of the fourth lap, I was sweating like crazy. Partly because it was already getting hot, but partly because I was feeling the burn. By the time my car was in sight, I had to really force myself to move those feet and finish the thing. The whole ordeal took me 52 minutes, so I can check off my 45-minute workout for the day. Whew! That's the most exercise I've gotten in years!

The only thing that truly frustrates me when I'm walking at the park is thinking about all the workout opportunities I've wasted over the years because I was too self-conscious to get out there and walk by myself. I would tell myself things like, "If my sister and I could just figure out a good time of day to get out there and walk together." I'm not sure what made me so self-conscious to begin with, because there are oodles of people working out by themselves and probably an even split between people who are fit and trim and people who really have some work to do - like me! Lots of older folks working hard to maintain their health, lots of people walking dogs, lots of moms (or dads) trying to get back in shape. My super self-conscious self has always been an obstacle when it comes to working out in public, but I gotta tell you - if anybody at the park even gives me a second thought, they're probably thinking, "Good for her. Keep it up!" There's a feeling of camraderie there, even as all of these people propel themselves individually around the track at their own paces. We may be strangers and most of us may be rocking out to one thing or another on our iPods, but it's as if we're all a mutual encouragement to one another by getting out there and fighting the good fight.

One thing I'd really like to find is a great pair of cropped workout pants. Shorts always ride up between my legs as I'm walking and I'm constantly having to pull them down. My longer track pants are fine, but they're starting to feel a little warm for this climate - even at 7:15 in the morning. And though I've never really had a desire for one before this, I'd really like to have an iPod myself. Especially on these longer walks when something interesting to listen to could really make the walk go by a little faster. Hey, maybe I could even upload some of my vintage radio episodes and just replace them with new episodes once I've listened to them!

Speaking of radio, I listened to the episode of The Great Gildersleeve the other day which was originally broadcast on December 7, 1941. The program then aired on NBC Red on Sunday evenings at 6:30 Eastern, 3:30 Pacific. In other words, it's only been about five hours since the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor began and only four hours since word of the attack first went out over the radio networks. What's striking to me on this momentous day is just how calm the announcer and cast seem as they go on with the show. The network had not cut away to 24-hour coverage, instead they interrupted the program five times to broadcast a bulletin. The program itself was performed in the studio from beginning to end, but the network cut away from the feed several times for just a minute or so at a time.

The program was broadcast from Hollywood, so the cast and studio audience are much closer to the scene of the battle than were folks on the East Coast. And yet they seem so cool and collected, no signs of emotion or anxiety. I guess most Americans had already accepted the fact that they would be entering the war at some point. They'd listened to news of the war in Europe and in China for more than two years now. They'd seen their country mobilizing, neighborhood boys being drafted, and defense bonds being sold. Americans were mentally much better prepared for the war than they would have been had the attack on Pearl Harbor taken place in 1938 or 1939. Then again, maybe the networks weren't reporting just how devastating the attack had been. They certainly don't give any indication of the number of American lives lost and ships destroyed. The news bulletins are striking in their crisp matter-of-factness, but they are guarded. They also report some optimistic developments that later proved to have been rumors, such as a Japanese aircraft carrier being sunk off Honolulu by American forces. I guess most people listening to the news probably pictured a much more evenly matched battle taking place than was the case.

Oh, I almost forgot. Here's that wartime Gingerbread recipe I promised I'd share a few days ago. Tomorrow's vintage dinner has another wartime dessert recipe in store!

Gingerbread

2 1/2 cups sifted flour
1 1/2 teaspoons ginger

1 teaspoon baking soda

1/2 teaspoon salt

1/2 cup shortening

1/2 cup boiling water
1 cup molasses

Sift dry ingredients together. Melt shortening in boiling water. Add molasses. Add sifted dry ingredients and mix well. Place in a greased (8-inch) baking pan and bake in moderate oven (350 degrees F.) 30 to 40 minutes.

Skin Care

Soap and water may have been okay for the teenage crowd, but 1940s beauty experts did have a few tricks up their sleeves for women looking for a little more in cleansing the face.

If you use a granular wash, such as beauty grains, you will find the skin tone clarified, and the texture improved. (The New American Etiquette, 1941)

An effective routine for the care of the war worker’s skin is frequent, thorough cleansing with warm water and a medicated soap. ("No Ration on Soap," St. Petersburg Times, 27 August 1943)

After cold water is used, an astringent should be applied with cotton, allowed to dry on. Cosmetic counters are full of them. ("To Improve Defects in Facial Skin," St. Petersburg Times, 28 February 1941)

I don't know yet if I'll take them up on any of this advice, but it's nice to know there are plenty of vintage options... The soap and water thing is probably not going to work in the long term for me - at least not just soap and water. I love the clean, but it leaves my face feeling a bit stingy even a couple hours later.

Could it be that I'm getting used to cooking dinner from scratch? For the first time since I started making the vintage dinners, I actually sat down at the table last night without feeling completely exhausted. Here's the menu:

Boiled Potatoes
Buttered Carrots
French Fruit Salad
Gingerbread Square

The Boiled Potatoes and Buttered Carrots are pretty self-explanatory. The Gingerbread was a wartime recipe - made without any sugar or eggs. It was easy to make and yummy fresh from the oven. (No nudges necessary to eat those leftovers!) The superstar of this menu was definitely the French Fruit Salad. The original menu calls for a Jellied Fruit Salad made with the leftover orange, pineapple, and banana from the previous menu (see last weekend). I don't eat gelatin as it's an animal by-product, so I paged through the chapter on salads looking for something I could make using the same fruits. Here's the recipe that caught my attention:

*****

FRENCH FRUIT SALAD

1 orange
1 banana
1/2 pound Malaga grapes
1 dozen walnuts
Lettuce
French dressing

Peel the orange and cut the sections from the membrane with a sharp knife or a pair of shears. If the fruit is allowed to stand in cold water after peeling, the bitter white membrance will come off easily.

Peel the banana and cut in quarter-inch slices. Remove the skins and seeds from the grapes. Break walnuts into small pieces, but do not chop. Mix these ingredients thoroughly and place on ice. Serve on lettuce leaves with a French dressing.

*****

The trick is making the French dressing variation that's suggested for fruit salads. No garlic, no pepper, light on the mustard, paprika, and sugar, citrus juice substituted for half the vinegar. The orange, banana, grapes, and walnuts were a lovely combination. Alas, I couldn't find any Malaga grapes at the supermarket. (Malaga grapes are both red and white grapes originally cultivated in a region of southern Spain. By the '40s, they were a profitable California crop.) My grapes were Chilean. And, no, I didn't peel 'em. What's with the '40s phobia about fruit skins? They're peeling their tomatoes, peeling their grapes. It's perfectly good fiber! And I love the snap of a super fresh grape - skin intact.

Potato-rama

Boy, am I tired of potatoes!

Potatoes were clearly a staple in the 1940s diet. Every one of these 1945 dinner menus consists of five courses (besides the meat, which I'm skipping since I'm a vegetarian):

1) Starchy vegetable (potatoes, sometimes rice)

2) Hot vegetable (cabbage, carrots, beets, peas, etc.)

3) Cold vegetable/fruit salad

4) Bread/rolls (which I'm skipping - way too many carbs in one meal!)

5) Dessert

I'm getting tired of the potatoes - and I'm only eating a vintage dinner once a week. Imagine what it would have been like to eat them in one form or another every night! Not only must the taste of them have gotten tiresome, but all the prep. Every night, Mother would find herself scrubbing and peeling potatoes. She'd probably have a pot in which she never cooked anything but potatoes! I guess you'd just have to get very creative with them, which could explain with my cookbook contains more than 30 potato recipes. Tonight's dish was definitely one of the simpler of the bunch:

Mashed Potatoes

Boiled Cabbage

Tomato and Lettuce Salad

Brownie a la Mode

I've never cooked with cabbage on my own before. But it was simple to prep, a quick boil, and blended nicely with the potatoes. One thing I've noticed in the cookbook is that the vegetables are always seasoned by the cook. They're buttered, salted, and peppered before being brought to the table. Did seasonings and condiments even make it to the dinner table in those days, or were they strictly for use in the kitchen?

Here's something funny... The cookbook instructed me to scald the tomatoes in order to remove the skin and chill them until it was time to assemble the salad. How unusual! I know that people canning their own tomato sauce often peel them beforehand, but I'd never imagined it being done for a salad. I guess I always thought the crisp snap of the skin was part of the allure. The recipe for this particular salad called for me to add capers to the French Dressing.

The Brownie recipe made a good ol' fashioned Brownie with a soft, milk chocolate flavor and lots of pecans.

*****

BROWNIES

1/2 cup sifted cake flour

Dash salt

1/4 teaspoon baking powder

3 tablespoons shortening

1/2 cup sugar

2 tablespoons strained honey

2 tablespoons corn sirup

1 egg, beaten

1 ounce (square) chocolate, melted

1 tablespoon hot water

1 teaspoon vanilla

1/2 cup pecans, chopped

Sift flour, salt and baking powder together. Cream shortening with sugar until fluffy. Add honey and sirup and continue creaming. Add egg and mix well. Add melted chocolate. Add dry ingredients, hot water and vanilla and blend well. Mix in pecans and spread mixture in 1 (8-inch) pan. Bake in moderate oven (350 degrees F.) about 20 minutes. Makes 36.

*****

There's the trick. That serving size is how so many women of the '40s were able to enjoy dessert every night and guard those hourglass figures. I tried dividing my batch of Brownies into 36 pieces and just couldn't do it! Even 16 pieces made very small Brownies. Brownies about the size our modern supermarket labels as bite-size!!! I topped my Brownie off with a small scoop of the banana nut ice cream leftover from last weekend.

Now if I could just master that French Dressing recipe...

Weekends Only!

Here's my new rule: No baking yeast-raised recipes on a weeknight.

What a mess! Even with the things I did along the way to try and clean up the kitchen. By the time I finished, it was late - I was tired - the evening chores hadn't yet been done --- I threw in my towel and hit the sack.

Which is not to say the Yeast Cinnamon Rolls didn't turn out pretty darn good. I wrapped eight of them up in aluminum foil as soon as they were nearly cool and popped them in the freezer. They'll be ready and waiting for me the next time this dish turns up on my menu. The rest are still tender and delicious today! I could have been a bit more liberal though with the cinnamon and sugar. The recipe didn't lay out any exact measurements for those ingredients, so I tend to end up on the safe side when that happens.

I wonder how 1940s housewives fitted something like baking yeast-raised breads into their daily schedules. I mean, I know most housewives weren't baking their own bread any longer, but they still made lots of rolls. Parker House rolls, cloverleaf rolls, sweet rolls, coffee cakes... Maybe once you were an expert at it you just found a way to work each step into the rest of your work about the house. You'd start a "sponge" then go to work tidying up the bedrooms. Knead the dough, set it someplace warm to raise, then head back upstairs and give the bathroom its daily once-over.

These vintage cookbooks can be a bit tricky. They have a lot of general information about certain types of foods towards the beginning of a mini-section of those recipes. The recipe for the Rolls, for instance, was a variation on the Standard Roll Recipe, but you really needed to refer back to the initial section on breadmaking in order to flesh out what looked like a scant set of instructions. That was the case for me too with the Soft Molasses Cookies. I should have read the intro to rolled cookies before even starting the recipe. I guess all of this basic stuff is the kind of thing a 1940s housewife would have learned in a home economics class, the kind of stuff she'd have learned from watching (and helping) her mother cook three meals a day.

Here's something mission-related I learned several days ago. If I'm going to make a trip to the supermarket only once a week, I need to give up fooling myself with a shopping basket. You know, the little plastic one - "I'm just here to pick up a few things!" - that you fit over your arm. It's time to let it go and resign myself to the big ol' shopping cart.

Kitchen Chemistry Redux

I'm baking a batch of Yeast Cinnamon Rolls this evening for tomorrow's breakfast and decided to try the "sponge method" instead of the "straight dough method" I tried last time 'round - unsuccessfully. While I wait to see if the sponge is going to take, I've got lots to post about the weekend...

Friday marked the third week in a row that I've given my kitchen a thorough cleaning. It's hard work - takes me about three hours of good, honest elbow grease - but one thing I've noticed is that I'm finding new hiding places for dirt every week. I guess all those little cracks and niches stand out more now with all that cleanliness around 'em! So the kitchen is getting progressively cleaner every time. The manual recommends that housewives clean one cupboard or several drawers each time they clean the kitchen. By the time they've made their way through each of the kitchen cabinets, it's time to start at the first again. In my own home, the contents of my cupboards have kind of evolved hit or miss since the day I moved in here. I didn't really think through where I ought to store this or that when I started unpacking my belongings and brought home that first bag of groceries. Since I've begun scrubbing out my cupboards, I've collected all my baking ingredients in one place, all my cereals in one place, all my canned vegetables in one place, all my less-used dishes in one place. Things are slowly becoming more efficiently organized.

The thing about the kitchen cleaning that's still a nagging issue for me is that I can't seem to get it all done in one sitting. I can do about 2/3 of it and then I'm just exhausted --- so the rest gets done on Saturday morning or Saturday afternoon. I keep thinking that as I get better at this it'll take less and less time and soon I'll be able to do the whole thing at once, but maybe this is as fast as it's going to get. At any rate, I think I may have to make some adjustments to my routine if the kitchen thing can't be done completely on a weekday evening.

Drat - just checked the sponge. It's not taking. The dough should be all light and bubbly. Okay, I'm going to try that dough saver I used last time. Here's a link to the dough saver recipe:

http://destination1940.blogspot.com/2009/01/what-simple-luxury-it-is-to-make-bed.html

Something else that's vexing me is how much I hate messing up my sparkly clean kitchen by cooking in it afterwards! Just when I've finished cleaning it on Saturdays, I turn around and create a great mess of dishes on Sunday evenings. My countertops are messy, my stovetop spattered, and the sink is full of pots and pans. It doesn't take me all that long to clean it up, but it's never quite as clean as it was 24 hours ago. *sigh* I suppose that's a pain felt by every homemaker since time immemorial. A wonderfully clean kitchen is great to look at, but lasts about as long as the morning dew on a summer's day. A kitchen is one of those spaces, I guess, that just needs to be worked at continually to keep it clean.

Now my dough is finally rising. Thank goodness! I've tried to scrub away all traces of that first batch by running a load of dishes and cleaning the kitchen counters, but my table is still all floury. Can't clean that up yet - I've got more kneading to do.

I was reading an issue of Family Circle during my lunch hour today and found myself snorting out loud at some of their decorating suggestions. I guess they were trying to give some recession-friendly suggestions for perking up the look of your home, but they were the kind of things that make it blatantly clear that modern women's magazines don't have any real interest in improving the efficiency of your home. They don't even recognize that the kitchen is a working environment. To them, the kitchen has become a pretty little backdrop in which you can pour a glass of juice, but had better not even attempt to do any cooking. Oh, maybe you could open one of those tubes of refrigerated cookie dough and slice them neatly out onto a cookie sheet. Heck, you could probably even open up your takeout and divvy it up onto plates. But the kitchens in these magazines are not designed for a woman (or man) preparing three meals a day for a family. Never mind baking a big, messy batch of Cinnamon Rolls!

Tip That Annoys Me #1
"Choose a pretty table lamp for the kitchen counter. It's much more flattering than overhead lighting, and it makes the room more like a living space."

Excuse me - since when was a kitchen supposed to be a living space? It's probably the most intensely busy room in a household where people are actually eating meals they've cooked themselves and dining as a family. There's a photo next to this tip of a tall, stylish table lamp with a tall shade. I'm not sure how on earth you're supposed to get any work done in a room with mood lighting!

Tip That Annoys Me #2 --- here's a non-kitchen tip
"Remove all the pictures hanging above your mantel and lean them against the wall for a more contemporary look. Add a framed sketch or photo to the mix."

Yes, and that is going to make cleaning that room sooooooo much easier. Can you imagine the dust bunnies that'll cling to the bottoms of each of these pictures? And you couldn't possibly have any children or pets in a home like this. How is a person supposed to clean the floors? Artistic? Sure. Functional? Not a smidge. I think these magazines have forgotten that we still have to live in our homes. These tips are for people whose homes are sterile places. I would never had noticed this a few months ago, though.

Update on the Cinnamon Roll Dough: The second rising is done. I'm just waiting for my dishwasher to finish the drying step so I can open it up and get my rolling pin back!

My 1945 dinner menu was surprisingly good last night. Here's the menu:

French Fried Potatoes
Beets
Tossed Greens with Tomato
Chili Dressing
Banana Nut Ice Cream
Soft Molasses Cookies

The French Fried Potatoes came out remarkably good. I couldn't believe it myself! They were cut to the size of what we'd call steak fries today. Parboiled, then fried on the stovetop in a fair bit of canola oil. I was terrified of the hot oil --- especially after my disastrous attempt to fry Corn-meal Mush in January! But I dried out the potatoes as much as possible, held my breath, kept the lid on the pan, and let the oil do its thing. Didn't try to get in there and move the potatoes around with a spatula or anything. And it worked! They were hot and crispy and all soft and potatoe-y on the inside. I'm ridiculously proud of 'em. Canned Beets were much easier to work with than the whole beets, but not nearly as tasty. For the Chili Dressing, I ended up adding a tablespoon of bottled chili sauce to the French Dressing recipe. The balsamic vinegar pretty much neutralized the chili sauce, but there was a bit of a zing there.

My first two sheets of Cinnamon Rolls are now in the oven. It's up to my Kenmore to do the work now.

I didn't think I'd have any luck finding Banana Ice Cream, but there are several varieties for sale - Chunky Monkey, Banana Split Ice Cream, Banana Pudding Ice Cream --- I ended up going with Banana Nut as it seemed more basic than the others. The Soft Molasses Cookies were okay fresh out of the oven, but they're dreadful today. I didn't read all the tips on working with rolled cookie dough until it was too late. Apparently, it's easier to work with dough like that if it's been chilled for 10 minutes or so. Better luck next time!

I'll let you know tomorrow how the Cinnamon Rolls turned out...

Hold the Cream

I tried to do it, I really tried. This morning's 1945 breakfast menu started out with Sliced Bananas with Cream. My arteries won the contest, though, and I ate the Bananas without the Cream:

Sliced Bananas

Poached Free Range Eggs on Toast

Cream and Top Milk were a staple fixture on the 1940s breakfast table. And not just for coffee. People laced their cooked cereals with Top Milk. They served cold cereals in bowls of Cream. Now it shows up with fruit. I guess they didn't have the constant commentary on health running through their heads that we do today. Cream and Top Milk were considered nutrient-dense foods, not cholesterol-laden substances to be used in strict moderation. I hesitated before the Cream in the dairy section at the grocery store last Wednesday. Thought I really ought to taste the dish for the sake of The Experiment. But I just couldn't do it.

At any rate, this was the last of the breakfast menus in the front of my cookbook. When I started trying 'em out a couple weeks ago, I expected these menus to be a little ritzier than the ones in the budget feature in the back of the cookbook. Fresher ingredients, maybe. So how did they measure up? Here's a bit I wrote about the budget-conscious menus:

Nearly half of the meals (43%) were built around some sort of cooked cereal. 27% of the menus were built around an egg dish. Baked goods were the main attraction for 20% of the menus, and cold cereal for the remaining 10%... I'm also a vegetarian, so I've taken any meat dishes out of the menus. This didn't take much time. These were the war years, and only 20% of the menus even include meat.

The menus in the front of the book are only built around cooked cereal 9% of the time. Nearly two-thirds of the meals (64%) feature an egg dish, and baked goods lead the way in 27% of the menus. You can see right away just how useful cooked cereals would have been to the housewife who had to be especially careful with money. Somebody who was a little more comfortable financially could count on having eggs at the breakfast table several times a week. Another major difference is that 46% of these front-of-the-book menus include meat - twice the amount as in the back of the book. The only kind of meat referenced in the budget section is bacon, while the menus in the front of the book include codfish, ham, and sausage. Another glimpse into the kind of pantry a thriftier housewife would have kept in the '40s.

I'm not done experimenting with breakfast just yet. I've been able to find eight more vintage breakfast menus in cookbooks and magazines, so I'm going to try these out and then move on to dinner. The first trio of menus is from a 1944 edition of the Good Housekeeping Cook Book (New York: Farrar and Rinehart). I'm also going to fire up my "new" Drip-O-lator for the first time. A friend bought me this lovely contraption last summer and it looks absolutely fabulous on my stovetop, but it was missing the aluminum drip unit that fits in the top. Until Christmas, that is. It's all assembled and ready to go, but I feel a bit like I'm trying out a new Bunsen burner in the lab. Will it make good coffee?

Week's End

I got to play with my new popover pan this morning!

Hot Baked Apple

Popovers

The recipe in the cookbook for Hot Baked Apples wasn't very detailed. It tells me to bake the fruit in a moderate oven (350-375 degrees F), but doesn't tell me how long to bake it:

Sour apples cook more quickly than sweet ones, and summer or fall apples take less time to cook than winter apples.

Thank goodness for the internet. Advice like that would've been meaningful for somebody who'd grown up baking apples, but for me --- not so helpful. (Boy, you skip one generation when it comes to passing down traditional knowledge about cookery and the information is practically lost!) Recipes online suggest baking the fruit for 40 to 65 minutes. With a little research, I was able to find out that Braeburn apples - the kind in my fruit bowl - are a winter variety, so I figured one of those would take at least an hour.

I realized the other night that my closet has become a little segregated. The clothes I've hung up in there since I started ironing my clean laundry on Tuesdays are all neatly hanging on one side of the closet. Wrinkle-free, by the way, even after a week in some cases. That still suprises me! I've been so fearful that the wrinkle-free will be contaminated by The Others - all those wrinkled clothes I haven't cleaned since the days when I only ironed things on my way out the door. So they each have their own sides of the closet. And I'm hoping that the wrinkle-free side will just get bigger and bigger until it takes over the whole place someday...

One of the things that's taken me by surprise lately is just how much I like being in my own home. How much more I genuinely enjoy being here when it's not as messy as it used to be. It's certainly not clean by any stretch of the imagination, but the living room and bedroom are tidy. There aren't dirty dishes all over the kitchen counters and stovetop. My clean clothes are all put away, and the dirty laundry is in its place. There's something about a neat(er) home that makes me want to spend some time here. Fancy that! It's no wonder I always felt kinda antsy at home before this. Who can relax in a messy place?

Week Ten: The Mission

I was planning a quick trip to the grocery store after work yesterday - just a few things on my list. One of them was grapefruit for this morning's breakfast. Happily, it's grapefruit season here in the Southwest, and a coworker brought me in a bag of grapefruit from the tree in his yard! It's interesting how different these grapefruit look from the ones we buy in the store. They're kind of pear shaped, for one. You can see just by looking at 'em how they hang on the tree. The fruit is heavier at the non-stem end. They also have a much thicker pith. In fact, there was probably about 50% less fruit. Lots more juice, though.

Here's this morning's menu (and tomorrow's, as I have leftover biscuits):

Grapefruit

Baking Powder Biscuits

It was a tasty breakfast. Not as filling as a whole-grain cereal or eggs might have been. The Biscuits were super quick. A cup did the trick today, but I'll have to add a biscuit cutter to my growing list of needs for a vintage home.

Speaking of shopping, my mission for this coming week will be to do some "light" marketing on Wednesday evenings. Housewives in the '40s made multiple trips to multiple stores over the course of a week to buy groceries, toiletries, and household supplies. They might have been able to have groceries delivered in a pinch - and this was still the era of door-to-door salesmen - but they probably spent a fair amount of time walking or driving to the pharmacy, the bakery, the green goods grocer, the shoe repairman, etc. Today, our supermarkets and discount department stores are so massive that we can find most of what we need under two roofs.

I probably make three shopping trips per week (unless something special comes up). A trip to the supermarket, a trip to Trader Joe's, and a trip to Walgreen's. I buy my eggs and dairy and a few other odds and ends at Trader Joe's. There are some incredible prices on produce at another natural foods market, so I stop there sometimes. (They also have a good selection of flours - which has been such a help with these 1945 breakfast menus.) So my own habits in this respect fall quite easily into vintage marketing patterns.

The manual has one recommendation as to timing:

The bulk of marketing should be done on a day when local stores offer special prices. Often Friday and Saturday are bargain days.

I might be wrong, but I don't think any modern supermarkets have sale prices effective just one day per week. They seem to offer sale prices that change once a week, but are effective all week long. I'm going to set aside some time on Saturdays to do the "bulk" of my marketing (a trip to the supermarket) with Wednesday evenings dedicated to a shorter trip to either Trader Joe's or the natural foods store. Those two trips - at opposite ends of the week - should keep my pantry in good order. Wouldn't it be nice never to run short of things? Not to have to make any emergency stops here and there to pick up what I might have been stocked up on with better planning?

Ergonomics and the Ironing Board

There's been nothing particularly lavish or budget-consuming about my "new" breakfast menus so far:

Tomato Juice

French Toast

Maple Sirup

I am getting better at divvying up some of these recipes to make sure I'm only making enough for one or two breakfasts. The first time I found French Toast on the menu, I went in there gangbusters and - before I knew it - had 12 pieces made! Thankfully, the Tomato Juice added an extra punch of health to my meal this morning, kinda balanced off the empty calories on my plate.

Ironing Day may still be three days off, but my vintage housekeeping manuals have lots of advice to offer on ironing - and ironing equipment. Here are some tips on choosing and positioning the ironing board:

The ironing board should be adjusted to correct height - 32 1/2 inches from the floor is correct for workers of average height.

My own ironing board is one of those dreadful tabletop affairs. I usually end up hunched over the board ironing on top of my bed or on the ottoman in my living room - sometimes I just set the board up on the floor. Even the authors of my manuals knew that ergonomics played a part in making ironing a wee bit easier. The best boards (during the 1940s, they were available in both wood and metal) were adjustable so that a woman of any height would be comfortable while ironing. Women who preferred to stand while ironing were encouraged to invest in a rubber mat to ease tired leg muscles. Those who preferred to sit should choose a high stool "with a support at the back and possibly a rung or rest for your feet."

Remember that an electric iron can be plugged into a wall socket anywhere... If the north bedroom is the coolest spot in the house on a broiling July day, that is the logical place to take your ironing.

Both manuals urge their readers to position the ironing board in a some location where they will have good light - whether from a window or from a lighting fixture. And of course it should be close to an electric outlet. It was also important to choose a location where you could keep an eye on the children. Ironing was such a time-consuming task, you needed to be able to keep an eye on children at play in the yard.

For women lucky enough to be planning new postwar homes, they were advised to seriously consider having a "built-in" ironing board installed in a location that met all these criteria.

I think I'll have a look about the house tomorrow and see if I can find a good spot to position my ironing board.

Week's End

It's been more than a week now since I started my last mission, but I'm getting ready to start the next, so thought it'd be a good time for a little wrap up. First, the eats. This is the first of the menus in the front of the cookbook:

Orange Juice
Hard-cooked Egg
Graham Muffins

Have you ever worked with graham flour before? It's kind of a happy medium between wheat bran and your generic sack of flour. One of the side effects of these vintage breakfast menus is that my pantry is becoming quite well stocked with different varieties of flour. Regular, wheat bran, buckwheat, graham flour... Thank goodness there's a grocery store here in town that keeps a great selection of Bob's Red Mill in stock! I wanted to make sure the Graham Muffins didn't turn out as dry as the Corn-meal Muffins a few weeks ago, so I added an extra tablespoon of vegetable oil to the recipe. And it helped. They were much softer than the Corn-meal Muffins. I had no idea what they'd taste like - visions of Golden Grahams were dancing through my head - but they just tasted kinda wheaty.

It was a good breakfast. And wonder of wonders, I had everything ready for the table at the same time! That's the kind of magic only experience can help a housewife work. I had to crow about it when I got to work today. But my co-workers didn't get why it was so exciting. I think most of the people I've told about what I'm doing - at least the breakfast part - don't really understand why. Why would I bother baking on a weekday morning? Why not just eat a protein bar or a bowl of cold cereal? It's not like I have kids to make breakfast for. Or a husband to impress. It's as if they think the skills I'm trying to cultivate are outdated and unnecessary. We've moved past needing a hot, yummy, nutritious breakfast or something.

Obviously, I don't think that's the case. But what's kind of nice is hearing that contrast. It makes me realize why I feel so good sitting down to a swell breakfast or crawling into a bed that's neat as a pin at the end of the day. I feel like I'm treating myself like a queen. Which I deserve! I haven't done that in a long time. And there's something about making my home a palace that makes me feel awfully good. So it's not just pride at work here. I would love to have found Mr. Right and to be making a home for my husband and children, but if that's not in the cards... I need to make a home for myself.

Making my bed every morning has quickly become one of my favorite chores. It's so much easier with the bed moved out from the wall in my bedroom. There's instant payoff when you step back and admire everything tucked in just so and the pillows plumped. I can't wait to be able to invest in some bed linens and blankets, maybe a fantastic vintage chenille bedspread, new pillows. Even if they mean it'll take a little bit longer to make my bed! Bedmaking is especially nice when I'm not completely in a rush and running out the door.

It's been interesting to learn a little something new about laundry. Though the process today is so different, the manual has made me appreciate how arduous Wash Day was circa 1945. It was hard on the muscles (so little of the work was actually automated), rough on the hands, and used a ton of water. I'll bet women consciously planned easier menus for Monday evenings just to give themselves a little less work after a long day over the wash tubs. And socializing on Monday nights. Forget about it! It wouldn't have been possible unless you had one of those new fully-automated postwar washing machines. Or a maid. And if you were able to afford hired help one day a week, it'd be Mondays.

Menu Making

My breakfast menu this morning marks Day 30 in my cookbook's special feature, "How to Feed a Family of Five on $20.00 per Week." Let's see... according to a historical inflation calculator, $20 in 1945 would be the equivalent of about $230 today. That's a pretty decent weekly budget for groceries. Even for a family that size.

Sliced Bananas on
Shredded Cereal

Easy, yummy, and filling. It was so filling, in fact, that it made a small lunch feel just right. I like that. It's been a nice perk from eating breakfast again. I've found this is definitely not the case on the mornings my menu is built around Waffles, Griddlecakes, or French Toast.

Nearly half of the meals (43%) were built around some sort of cooked cereal. 27% of the menus were built around an egg dish. Baked goods were the main attraction for 20% of the menus, and cold cereal for the remaining 10%. I adapted most of the menus to leave out the third serving of carbs. This may have worked for a woman preparing breakfast for several people. She'd be able to enjoy a little serving of several different dishes. I'm cooking for one, so I've been adapting the menus a bit to make sure I don't end up with a fridge full of leftovers and some extra inches on the waistline. I'm also a vegetarian, so I've taken any meat dishes out of the menus. This didn't take much time. These were the war years, and only 20% of the menus even include meat.

So, here's the question: I'm trying to decide what to do next. There are 11 more breakfast menus in a chapter on "Menu Making" at the front of the cookbook. Presumably, these were menus designed for a housewife who didn't have to be as budget-conscious as the one with the $20 grocery bill. They'll probably be a little more elaborate. Fresher ingredients, maybe? I'm not sure. Should I pick up some of these ritzier menus? Or go back to Day 1 of the menus I've been using --- maybe drop some of the empty calorie days? (Despite her coupon clipper menus, even the author of the cookbook says "Doughnuts... jam, jelly, marmalade, and pancakes with sirup should be considered desserts... to be eaten only after more wholesome foods have been eaten.") Should I start working on some of the dinner menus. Maybe make a 1940s dinner once a week? What do you think???

Kitchen Chemistry

What simple luxury it is to make a bed which isn't wedged in against the wall! I was tickled pink to find yesterday's hard work paying off today, and boy does it make me want to buy some lovely vintage bedding. Just to show off my newly-acquired bedmaking skills. I put my ruler back to work this morning and carefully measured off 18 inches from the head of the bed to decide where to fold back the top sheet. My mom still makes beds the way the Good Housekeeping manual recommends: folding down the bedspread, laying the pillows on top of the upside-down portion of the bedspread, then rolling everything back into place. It makes that crease at the bottom of the pillows which looks so streamlined.

I knew this morning's menu was going to be a toughie, so I got started on the dough for the Yeast Cinnamon Rolls last night:

Sliced Orange
Hard-cooked Egg
Yeast Cinnamon Roll (from stored dough)
Coffee

My 1945 recipe only measures yeast in cakes. Fortunately, the packets of "dry yeast" I purchased had a conversion formula printed on the back. 3 packets = 1 cake of yeast. I can't remember the last time I made any kind of raised dough, so my kitchen felt like a chemistry lab as I set to work softening the yeast in warm water and scalding milk in a pan. This was at about 6:00 yesterday evening. By 6:20, the dough had been kneaded and set in a covered bowl in a warm-ish spot to rise. Two hours later - nothing. The dough was still the same size it had been when I placed it in the bowl. My heart sinking, I checked my cookbook for tips - nothing there except the suggestion that I had probably killed the yeast. So I looked around online and luckily came across a website with step-by-step instructions - and photos - on making a raised bread dough. At the very bottom of the screen was just what I had been hoping to find:

"Bread Problem Solving

1. What if it doesn't rise?
Your liquid was most likely either too hot or too cold and you've killed the yeast. Don't despair, this bread can still be saved! Dissolve 1 tablespoon yeast and 1 teaspoon of sugar in 1/2 cup very warm water (110°F). Mix in 1/2 cup all purpose flour. Let this mixture stand in a warm place for about 10 minutes. It will turn foamy and spongy. Beat this mixture into your un-risen dough then knead in enough flour to correct the consistency. Cover this dough and place it back in a warm place to rise. Proceed as normal."

http://www.fabulousfoods.com/index.php?option=com_resource&controller=article&article=19904&category_id=223&Itemid=&pagenum=1

Thank goodness. Whoever put this website together saved my dough! And this morning's breakfast. My "lab" looked like a hurricane had swept through it by the time I took the Cinnamon Rolls out of the oven at midnight, but at least I didn't have to throw away the ingredients. I can't imagine how a housewife during the war must have felt if her dough didn't rise - or "lighten," as the cookbook describes it. Throwing away rationed ingredients must have felt so unpatriotic. Then again, she'd probably have been working with yeast-raised dough since she was a teenager.

A Comedy of Errors

My housekeeping routine fell prey to a comedy of errors this morning - all of them mine, of course. I could blame it on my cold. (I am feeling a little foggy and disoriented.) But that wouldn't be entirely accurate...

Before I begin, here's yesterday's vintage breakfast menu:

Apple Juice

Cracked-wheat Cereal

I should mention that I added some raisins and brown sugar to the Wheatena. Normally, I try to stick quite literally to the menus, but Wheatena needs something extra just to be edible - and that magazine article did suggest adding dried fruits to make cooked cereals more tempting!

I knew that Corn-bread was on the menu this morning, so set my alarm 30 minutes early so I'd have time to do a little baking. 2 cups corn-meal, 3 tablespoons baking powder... Wait a second. Baking powder? Maybe it was too early to do any baking, because there wasn't any baking powder in that recipe - or even in any of the recipes on that page of the cookbook! I'm left facing a mixing bowl full of corn-meal covered with baking powder. The recipe actually calls for baking soda which I don't have in the house right now. It's been on my grocery list, but I must have been thinking I wouldn't need it for another few days. So I whip out my 1990s Betty Crocker cookbook. Nope. No emergency substitutes for baking soda. Can I find another vintage recipe for Corn-bread that calls for baking powder instead? I didn't have to look very far, but all this casting about definitely ate up the extra time I'd planned. I ended up using a recipe from a little booklet published by Clabber Girl, probably in the mid- to late 1930s. Conveniently enough, there's baking powder in every recipe.

Tomato Juice

Hard-cooked Egg

Corn-bread, Honey

The icing on the cake? Not a drop of Honey in the house. Turns out I tossed the last jar shortly after using it on my Griddlecakes a few weeks ago and then realizing it was expired.

The Corn-bread was very tasty with margarine - or should I say oleo - so breakfast turned out okay. By the time I'd finished, however, it was high time to be leaving and my bed was still unmade. On any other day, I'd have taken the few extra minutes to make my bed. But I needed to stop by a mailbox on the way to work. Badly. You can guess how that debate won out.

What a morning! Just a sample of the chaos my household used to run on - and had for ages. My kitchen, my wardrobe, my pocketbook... There's no way I'm going back to that place. Ever. My new routine may be a bit more work everyday, but it also brings a kind of serenity along with it that I've become accustomed to in a very short time.

Kitchen Mathematics + Ash Tray Etiquette

Does my oven run a little hot or is it just better insulated than ovens were 60 years ago?

Grapefruit Juice
Corn-meal Muffins, Jelly

I made Corn-meal Muffins for breakfast this morning, and they were well done several minutes early. Tough and dry in such a short time. Maybe it's not my oven. Maybe it's just a sign how radically our tastes have changed in 60 years. Of course, it could also be that I'm not a good cook - but I've been trying very hard to stick carefully to the directions. None of the baked goods I've made so far have been light or fluffy or flavorful. Did people in the '40s just not know how lovely pancakes or muffins could taste, or have we developed greater expectations of our food? Have our recipes for pancakes and muffins evolved? Just a little something to mull over the next time I have some baking to do for breakfast.

It's kinda tricky to work baking into your morning routine. In fact, the whole process in making breakfast still feels very mathematical. "Let's see, if the Stewed Prunes are going to take 45-50 minutes, but the Oatmeal only 5 minutes plus another 5 minutes to bring the water to boil..." You get the idea.

Moving my chores in the living room to the evenings instead of the mornings has worked out pretty well for now. I may have to move 'em on back to the mornings once I'm ready to start doing some heavy-duty housework at night, but I'll take this one week at a time.

Gather up on tray to take out: used ash trays, articles belonging in other rooms, plants or flowers to be tended.

Now here's one item I don't have to worry about when I'm straightening up the living room. There aren't any ash trays to take up and bring into the kitchen for cleaning. That's got to be a messy job. Smoking was h.o.t. during the WWII era. Especially cigarettes. Lily Haxworth Wallace dedicates an entire chapter to chewing gum and smoking in New American Etiquette (1941). In this passage, she firmly explains how important it is that houseguests use ash trays:

You should be very careful of ashes from cigarettes, cigars, or pipes. Do not let them carelessly fall on the floor or table in your own or your hostess' home. If there is no ash tray close by, ask for one and use it frequently. Do not forget the length of ashes on your cigarette. Never flick ashes into a plate at the dinner table and never let them drop into a wastebasket.