The Evening After

Well, I wouldn't call it the social event of the decade, but my parents cleaned their plates - my dad even asked for seconds - and we had some good laughs afterward as I showed them the cookbook I'd used and shared some of the recipes I spared them! Though I'd planned on serving a 1940s Easter menu, I decided at the last minute to serve up a medley of some of the surprisingly wonderful vintage recipes I've discovered in cooking dinner for myself over the past year. I guess you could say it was kind of like my annual report on vintage cookery.

Lima-Bean Casserole
Mashed Potato Balls
Beet Pickle Salad
Popovers
Honey Rice

Mashed Potato Balls are patties formed from cold mashed potatoes and a beaten egg yolk. Brown them in the oven with a dab of margarine on top. I added some seasoned salt to mine to give them a little kick. The Beet Pickle I used for the salad was a canned version purchased at the supermarket. (Aunt Nellie's is the brand. I like to think of her as my dear old Aunt Nellie who pickled the beets straight out of her Victory Garden last summer.) I sliced the beets and served them on a bed of lettuce with a tiny dollop of mayonnaise. Popovers are an old family favorite and the recipe in The American Woman's Home Cook Book (1945) doesn't disappoint. (Note: If you're using a modern popover pan, the batter only makes about six.)

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POPOVERS

1 cup sifted flour
1/4 teaspoon salt
2 eggs
1 cup milk
1 tablespoon melted shortening

Sift flour and salt together. Beat eggs and add milk, shortening and sifted dry ingredients. Beat until smooth with rotary beater. Fill greased muffin pans 1/2 full and bake in very hot oven (450 degrees F.) 20 minutes. Reduce temperature to moderate (350 degrees F.) and bake 15 minutes longer. Makes 8.

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Whew! It's been a long time since I had such a heavy meal so late in the day. My eating habits have changed so much over the last twelve months that it felt positively strange to wake up still feeling so not-hungry this morning. I guess I've gotten used to waking up with an empty tummy! I felt so full I couldn't face anything more than Toast for breakfast this morning. My sink is full, too. Full of dirty pans that needed a good soaking. My mission tonight is to finish cleaning up after the party.

Lessons learned? 1) I truly would have appreciated one of those vintage ranges with three or four different oven chambers. You can set each chamber at a different temperature, right? None of last night's recipes wanted to play together when it came to temperature. 2) My apartment is way too small to entertain more than one person at a time. And it's awful tough to serve dinner at the kitchen table when you have to ask one of your guest to stand up for a minute while you open the oven to check on your Honey Rice. (I'm thinking Dorothy Dix would not have approved.) Let's face it. Nobody should be seated right in front of the oven! Talk about a hot seat.

Party Time

Inviting my parents over for a vintage dinner party has been a blessing in disguise. As hard as it's been to drag myself out of this slump, knowing they are going to be here - tonight! - has forced me to open the windows, let the sunshine in, and set my house to rights. It's 6:30 on Sunday morning as I sit down to write this post --- which means I've got less than 12 hours before my guests arrive. In just one more week, my parents will be heading back East for the year. I do so want them to leave knowing I'm back on my feet.

I'm still planning some sort of blend of the Easter menus in my last post, but haven't made any final decisions yet. The women's pages of 1940s newspapers were packed with suggestions for Easter table decor. Putting aside some of the bunnies and candy eggs and calla lilies made from thin slices of turnip and carrot strips(!), some of these suggestions will still work quite nicely for a bit of vintage springtime flair.

The Pittsburgh Press (April 22, 1943)
"A daffodil centerpiece on the Easter table will bring Spring indoors."

The Spokesman-Review (March 27, 1947)
"...huge bowls of gladiola, carnations, and spring flowers..."

The [St. Petersburg, Florida] Evening Independent (April 1, 1947)
"For the table - centerpiece low and modern of pink and white carnations, dawn pink roses with blue lace flowers to accent. Arrange in a crystal bowl. Place on Irish linen cloth in new postwar design. Use the lovely new crystal dessert plates and goblets."

Ottawa Citizen (April 2, 1947)
"By all means use your green tablecloth, a perfect natural background for all colors used in your setting or foods. If possible, have a flower centerpiece, all-white flowers are often used for an Easter table-setting, or an artistically-grouped bouquet of vari-colored spring flowers or make a pert old-fashioned bouquet, small flowers tightly circled about a center rosebud. Or use one large shallow bowl, or two matching smaller ones, holding floating flowers: for example, white and yellow freesias, pansies, hyacinths, daffodils. At each side of the center piece have a dish of brightly colored candies, mints perhaps... Of course use your most colorful china and glass, gleaming silver."

The Miami News (March 24, 1948)
"That means bringing out your delicate china, pastel china... For your table centerpiece you might use a low bowl of yellow gladioli..."

A big trend I noticed in looking for ideas for table decor is the color of the menu. Article after article extols the goodness in having a springtime menu that covers every shade of the rainbow. Not only did the '40s housewife have to plan her menu around ration points and local food shortages, but she also had to make sure the menu included dishes in shades of red, orange, yellow, green, violet, and pink. A colorful menu was just as important as a colorful new outfit on Easter Sunday.

Here's my post-breakfast plan of attack for the day:

1. Clean the kitchen garbage can with boiling water. Leave outdoors to air dry.
2. Finalize the dinner menu (don't forget the color!) and prepare a shopping list.
3. Walk six laps at the park.
4. Marketing
5. Light lunch
6. Wash the kitchen floor.
7. Dust and polish furniture in living room.
8. Vacuum living room and bedroom.

Yipes --- it's already 7:45! I'd better run. Lots to do!!!

Baby Steps

Well, this last week has been a mixed bag.

It's been successful in some ways --- I was able to get all my weekday walks in and made it through five laps at the park yesterday. Today's goal: six! I filed my federal tax return on Thursday and mailed off my state return yesterday, so $638 should be winging its way to me within the next few weeks.

It's been unsuccessful in others --- I'm really struggling to find the motivation to do anything at home. I'm not having any trouble shopping, however, so I have been enjoying buying some new spring clothes to fit my new body and some new bedding to fit my new mattress. I find myself resisting the thought of having to start from scratch, but I guess there's no other way out of this hole. So I'm making a pledge right now - whatever else I do or don't do this week - to put the routine back in my morning. Remember these? These nine simple steps I adopted one at a time beginning in November 2007. They became the core of my housekeeping routine:

Open window in bedroom on arising, for free circulation of air.

Throw back bed covers, including top sheet.

Carry soiled clothing to the hamper. Hang up other clothing. Put away any personal possessions out of place in the bedroom.

Prepare and serve breakfast.

Clear away dishes and misplaced articles from dining room, after breakfast.

Operate ventilating range hood while scraping, rinsing, and stacking dishes in the dishwasher. Leave pots and pans to soak in sink.

Put away food.

Make bed.

Close bedroom window if air conditioning will be used during day.

There's no excuse in the world that feels as good to me now as I used to feel having accomplished these nine simple steps every morning of the week. Whether I'd like the extra sleep or not, my body is used to getting up at a certain time and getting things done, so I can't even truly enjoy re-setting my alarm and spending another hour in bed! I just lie there, tossing and turning, feeling stupendously unaccomplished for not getting up and doing my chores. I'm resolving, in fact, to do every one of these chores before I press "Publish Post" on these very words this morning. By the time you read this post, I'll have finished each and every one of them...

There, I've finished the first three steps. Now for a little fun. I've asked my parents over for a vintage dinner party on April 11 before they head back East for the year. It's the Sunday after Easter, but I'm planning a 1940s springtime menu complete with vintage table decorations. I've been doing a little research into Easter menus from that time period. Leaving out the meat, of course, I'm sure to be able to mix and match from these dishes to come up with a menu appropriate for my dinner party. Which one is your favorite?

Milwaukee Journal (April 18, 1943)
Broiled Ham Slice
Parsley Buttered Potatoes
Steamed Peas in Orange Cups
Fresh Fruit Salad
Baking Powder Biscuits with Honey
Cake [made with coconut and candy eggs] and Fresh Pineapple
Coffee

Better Homes and Gardens (April 1945)
Baked Ham Slice
Easter Eggs
New Potatoes and Peas in Cream
Little Green Onions
Carrot Curls
Rosy Radishes
One-a-Penny Buns
Mile-High Lemon Chiffon Pie

St. Petersburg Times (March 18, 1945)
Cream of Fresh Vegetable Soup
Celery Crisps
Chicken Loaf
Frizzled Ham Slices
Glazed Sweet Potatoes
String Beans Hollandaise
Fruit Fan Salad [segments of chilled citrus fruit, strawberries, apple slices, and raisins for garnish]
Toasted Crackers
Cheese Spread

Toledo Blade (April 16, 1946)
Orange and Grapefruit Cup
Fried Chicken
New Potatoes with Watercress
Butter
Fresh Asparagus
Endive and Hard Cooked Egg
Salad
Corn Meal Muffins
Rhubarb Cream Pie

Pittsburgh Press (April 1, 1947)
Three Fruit Cocktail [frosted peaches, grapefruit, strawberries]
The Easter Ham [garnish of peach halves]
Sweet Potato Puffs
New Asparagus
Mock Hollandaise Sauce
Molded Spring Salad
Hot Biscuit or Rolls
Preserves or Jelly
Meringue Shells with Ice Cream and Strawberries
Coffee
Candy
Sliced Nuts

Tomato Consomme
Crisp Wafers
Olives
Radish Rose
Celery
Roast Chicken with Stuffing
Mashed Potatoes
Green Beans with Celery
Mixed Fresh Fruit Salad
Frozen Strawberry Dessert
Coconut Frosted Cup Cakes
Coffee
Candies

Fresh Fruit Cup
Crown Roast of Lamb with Mint Apples
New Potatoes in Cream
Buttered New Potatoes or Cauliflower
Spring Vegetable Salad
Daffodil Cake a la Mode
Coffee
Salted Nuts
Candies

[Spokane] Spokesman-Review (March 18, 1948)
Fruit Cup
Baked Ham
Creamed New Potatoes and Peas
Candied Sweet Potatoes
Jellied Gingerale and Pear Salad
Relishes
Hot Cross Buns
Orange Chiffon Cake
Coffee

Southeast Missourian (April 14, 1949)
Consomme with Cut-up Vegetables
Roast Leg of Spring Lamb
Mint Sauce
Brown Gravy
Surprise Baked Potatoes
Green Peas
Buttered Asparagus
Parkerhouse Rolls
Butter or Fortified Margarine
Watercress Salad
Angel Pie with Crushed Strawberries and Pineapple
Coffee
Milk

You can definitely see some trends as to what kinds of foods were considered springlike in the 1940s, even if there was no way on God's green earth most Americans could put fresh peas, asparagus, strawberries, or pineapple on the dinner table in April! Unless you lived out West, you probably wouldn't be able to pull that kind of thing off 'til June. Most housewives would have had to rely on canned (or frozen) fruits or vegetables for an Easter menu like these. Maybe that's what these Easter dinner menus are really all about --- a taste of what's to come in a couple more months. A hint of your first harvest from the garden, even if it's weeks away and those seedlings aren't even yet in the ground!

Back to work. Let's face it, my kitchen's a mess. And the last thing I feel like doing is any kind of baking or cooking in a mess. I've been stalled up on this last week's breakfast menus ever since Tuesday's called for some baking. I need to address that, but I can't do it before eating my breakfast this morning - so I'm going to shoot for something simple, but filling. How 'bout Thursday's menu:

Grapefruit Half
Poached Free-range Eggs
Toast

I've just finished steps four, five, six, and seven. It's literally the first time in weeks I've eaten a meal sitting at my kitchen table. I've still got two more steps to take, then I can publish this post and go forward with my day...

Check, and check! I'll have to share some of the decorating I've started in my bedroom in another post. For now, my bed is made. The room has been aired, but it's warm enough these days that I should be able to open the window again in a couple hours and leave it open 'til sunset. Thanks for holding my hand while I worked my way thru these chores. Clearly - even after all this time - keeping things clean and organized does not come naturally to me. Will it ever?

Mistress of My Domain

Here it is just after 6:00 p.m. and my meager supper is finished. It can't have been that much smaller than most of my suppers, but for whatever reason it just felt meager tonight. Rats! Looks like I've got a long evening ahead... I think I'll torture myself and tell you all about last night's vintage dinner, courtesy of The American Woman's Cook Book (1945):

Baked Potato
Buttered Turnips
Beet Pickle Salad on Lettuce
Peach Sorbet

Have I ever even baked a potato in my own oven? I don't think I have. Having prepared potatoes umpteen different ways since beginning these vintage dinners, I was truly able to appreciate just how easy making a Baked Potato is for the housewife. It puts the oven through its paces, but, boy, is it worth it! I didn't like turnips years ago, but wanted to give them a try to see if my taste buds have matured. They weren't terrible. I could take 'em or leave 'em. The Peach Sorbet was my reducing-friendly substitute for Orange Sugarless Cake.

Beet Pickle isn't the kind of thing you whip up on a single day, so I compromised by purchasing a jar of Aunt Nellie's Pickled Beets at the supermarket. Many a 1940s housewife would've been able to jazz up a bland-ish meal by stepping into her cellar and picking up a jar of something she'd put up last summer. My maternal grandparents had an earthen cellar under their house and one of the greatest treats for my sisters and me when we were little was getting to unlatch that door, clamber carefully down the wooden steps, and run about in that cool, dark, mysterious space. At the bottom of the steps was a set of shelves filled with preserves of every variety imaginable, including a lovely pickled watermelon rind which must have been Grammie's specialty. I like to imagine that had I the time and space - not to mention the garden - I'd be pickling beets and watermelon rind for my own household stores! Anyway, my 1945 menu originally suggested that the Beet Pickle be suspended with celery in a lemon gelatin. I skipped the gelatin (as I'm sure you could've guessed), combined the diced Beet Pickle with diced celery, and served it on a bed of greens with a dollop of mayonnaise.



I'm not sure which room I was least looking forward to adding to my housekeeping routine in the beginning, but the bathroom placed in the Top Two. It's funny, because it's actually the smallest room in the house. You'd think it'd be a breeze. I absolutely dreaded having to clean the tub and the toilet regularly. Well, I've been doing that week in and week out for about a month now and I've got something to confess...

It's not that bad.

It helps me to break it into pieces and focus on one part of the tub and shower surround at a time - the end wall, the side wall, the shower wall, the tub. Lather, scrub, rinse. Lather, scrub, rinse. Top to bottom. Top to bottom. The tub is just a free-for-all with my trusty Comet, a scrub brush, and some piping hot water. I have a special scrubby sponge dedicated just to the bathroom. When it comes to the toilet, that's where those modern antibacterial wipes come in handy. They used to be my one and only tool when it came to housekeeping - *hanging my head in shame* --- the only thing I use them for now is for cleaning the outside of the toilet and the seat. Heck, even The Manual instructs its readers to have a cloth reserved for nothing more than cleaning the toilet. I think I'll add antibacterial wipes (for use on the toilet) to my small list of modern innovations that are worth their salt.

Did you ever see The Farmer's Wife? It's an amazing documentary about a struggling Nebraska farm family that aired on Frontline in 1998. An example of the very best that television has to offer... Well, there's a scene where Juanita Buschkoetter - farmer's wife and mother of three - is hard at work on her off-farm job. She cleans houses on a part-time basis. She's bending over and cleaning the toilet in this home so much bigger and nicer than her own and she says to the cameraman, "I don't mind cleaning houses, but I hate cleaning other people's toilets." I think of that scene every time I'm cleaning my own toilet and feel grateful in an instant that it's mine and not somebody else's. Juanita would have considered it a lucky break indeed to be able just to keep her own bathroom clean... If you've never seen this film, it's the kind of life-altering television you'll never forget. Netflix it immediatement.

"...when we knew them by the shape of their legs"

Here it is Friday and I haven't posted anything yet about last Sunday's vintage dinner! Thank goodness for "Independence Day Observed" - it gives me the chance to do some serious catching up on all fronts. (I'll do my observing tomorrow.)

Eggs Scrambled with Chopped Chives or Parsley
Salad of Shredded Lettuce and Carrots and Chopped Sweet Pickle
Roll
Blueberry Pudding

Recommended by The American Woman's Cook Book (1945) as a menu for a Saturday evening, this was a wonderful change of pace after a hot summer's day. Just the kind of the meal that would allow a housewife some extra time to get her children through their Saturday night baths... I added some Parsley to my Scrambled Eggs. Most of you could probably scramble eggs with your eyes closed, but I thought you might enjoy seeing a '40s take on the recipe.

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BATTERED OR SCRAMBLED EGGS

In a frying-pan, place one teaspoon of butter for each egg. Beat the eggs until the whites and yolks are well mixed. Season with salt and pepper and add one to three tablespoons of milk or cream for each egg. Pour into the hot fat and cook slowly, stirring constantly until the eggs are of the desired consistency. Serve at once. A little onion-juice or chopped parsley may be added to the eggs, if desired.

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I made the salad using iceberg lettuce, carrot, and chopped sweet gherkins. The whole-wheat roll was purchased at the supermarket --- a nod to the foods commercially available by the 1940s. The Blueberry Pudding was a simple cottage pudding with fresh blueberries added to the batter. It was so good, but I'm afraid it'll be the last of my desserts from these dinner menus for a little while. (The leftovers are way too tasty!) I'm going to substitute either a baked custard, sherbet, or pudding for the vintage suggestions.

The summer rains have moved into this part of the desert. I use the word "rains" loosely - it rains for about 5-10 minutes in the late afternoon - but the storms do stir up some lovely wind and cloudy skies... So it was time to clean my bedroom yesterday evening and a storm had just passed by. For the first time in all these months, I had to find an alternative to airing my bedcovers and pillows on the landing outside my door. The railing was wet and water was still dripping from the roof. Hmmm. What's a good housewife-who's-not-a-wife-and-works-outside-the-home-five-days-a-week to do? I reached for The Manual. Aha!

Remove all bed covers; stretch over end of bed, or over chairs, off the floor.

That - I could do. And at least it gives you a chance to open the windows and air the mattress. Making up my bed again afterwards wasn't quite as satisfying an experience as it usually is. I didn't get to beat the pillows or give the bedcovers a good shake - didn't want to stir up any fresh dust indoors - but it was a decent trade in a pinch.

Have you ever read Garrison Keillor's Lake Wobegon books? I'm reading the second one, Leaving Home (1987), and there's a thought he expressed in passing that's making me especially mindful these days of the way my legs look. (Mindful to the point where I may have overdone it with my new exercises yesterday --- my legs are aching this morning!) It's a passage in the opening essay to the book that made me think of my legs. A beautiful passage in more ways than one. It makes me laugh and weep a little at the same time. I laugh, because I'd like to be known by my nieces as the aunt with fabulous legs!

When I was little I didn't think of grownups as having bare skin; grownups were made of wool clothing, only kids were bare naked...

Every time I read a book about how to be smarter, how not to be sad, how to raise children and be happy and grow old gracefully, I think "Well, I won't make those mistakes, I won't have to go through that," but we all have to go through that. Everything they went through, we'll go through. Life isn't a vicarious experience. You get it figured out and then one day life happens to you. You prepare yourself for grief and loss, arrange your ballast and then the wave swamps the boat.

Everything they went through: the loneliness, the sadness, the grief, and the tears--it will all come to us, just as it came to them when we were little and had to reach up to get hold of their hand, when we knew them by the shape of their legs. Aunt Marie had fat little legs, I held her hand one cold day after a blizzard, we climbed snowdrifts to get to the store and buy licorice whips. She said, "Come on, we can make it, don't slip," and soon she was far behind, a fat lady in a heavy coat with a fur collar, leaning into the wind, wheezing from emphysema, and sometime later she died. She knew that death was only a door to the kingdom where Jesus would welcome her, there would be no crying there, no suffering, but meanwhile she was fat, her heart hurt, and she lived alone with her ill-tempered little dogs, tottering around her dark little house full of Chinese figurines and old Sunday Tribunes. She complained about nobody loving her or wanting her or inviting her to their house for dinner anymore. She sat eating pork roast, mashed potato, creamed asparagus, one Sunday at our house when she said it. We were talking about a trip to the North Shore and suddenly she broke into tears and cried, "You don't care about me. You say you do but you don't. If I died tomorrow, I don't know as you'd even go to my funeral." I was six. I said, cheerfully, "I'd come to your funeral," looking at my fat aunt, her blue dress, her string of pearls, her red rouge, the powder on her nose, her mouth full of pork roast, her eyes full of tears.

Every tear she wept, that foolish woman, I will weep every one before I am done and so will you. We're not so smart we can figure out how to avoid pain, and we cannot walk away from the death we owe.

So true. For all our modern technologies, shopping malls, and miracle drugs, we can't avoid the mistakes and fears and losses that shaped the lives of our grandmothers, our great-grandmothers, and their great-grandmothers before them... If you've never read any of Keillor's books - or listened to his marvelous Prairie Home Companion on NPR - you've got something wonderful in store. He paints such a frank and beautiful picture of life in a small Minnesota town. His bits in Lake Wobegon Days on the scandal of air conditioning and over-ambitious tomato gardeners --- genius!

Symphony

One of the blessings of having turned off my television is getting to listen to something a little different - the sounds of home. Surely, I must've heard these sounds before, but I guess I never really listened to them...

Like the snap of a clean towel when you're folding laundry. I love to give my towels and washcloths a sharp, precise shake before folding them, just to shake any last wrinkles out before they're folded and tucked away in the linen closet.

And the cheery sound of voices when I turn on my radio in the morning. I usually turn it on as I'm heading into the kitchen to get breakfast started. And whether the news is good or bad, the voices are welcome companionship after a long, quiet night with nothing but the air conditioner to interrupt the calm.

Like the tap-tap-tapping of an egg in a covered pan as it bubbles away for my breakfast. And the ticking of my Toastmaster, growing ever faster as the toast gets closer to the finish. Happy sounds indeed after a long snack-less night!

I love the sound of hissing steam as my iron heats up on Tuesday nights... It's a promising sound - one that betokens a closet soon replenished with smooth, neatly pressed garments.

On Thursday evenings, it's a "Whap! Whap! Whap!" outdoors on the landing when - after airing my bed covers and pillows for an hour - I give the pillows a good shake and smack them against each other a few times. Just to get the dust out. (Though it's handy, too, in working out any workaday frustrations.)

I'd forgotten what a satisfying task snapping string beans can be. And it makes another fantastic sound!

Mashed Potato Cakes
String Beans
Salad of Cottage Cheese Stuffed Prunes
Apple Brown Betty

It was all about comfort food for my vintage dinner last Sunday. Mashed Potato Cakes are a clever way to serve up leftovers. Add salt, pepper, and egg yolk to a dish of cold mashed potatoes. Form into patties, place a dab of margarine on top of each, and bake in a greased pan. Just long enough to brown the bottoms of the patties. The Cottage Cheese Stuffed Prunes made for a very rich salad - which would have been even richer if I'd laced it with French Dressing (as instructed by the recipe)! I've never eaten Apple Brown Betty before, so thought it might turn out something like an apple crisp. Not quite. Kind of like a soft apple crisp - without the crunch. Ruth Berolzheimer, the author of The American Woman's Cook Book (1945), must've been nuts about bread crumbs. They show up practically every week! I'm beginning to get suspicious now every time I see them. Hmmm... what kind of missing ingredient is she trying to cover up with bread crumbs this time?

Fluff Piece

Dear God in heaven, how could they have done this to food?

Bread Stuffing
Baked Acorn Squash
Salad of Grapefruit Sections and Avocado
Prune Whip

I don't like to just point and laugh (or gag) at vintage recipes, but Prune Whip --- I'm not sure how this qualifies as edible. I have issues with foamy, bubbly food to begin with - so I shouldn't even have gone there - but I wanted to know for myself what all the fuss was about. I'm only halfway thru my cookbook's vintage dinner menus, but some sort of fruit whip has already turned up twice for dessert. Come to think of it, folks seemed to be really into frothy, fluffy desserts in those days: chiffon pie, chiffon cake, fruit whip, meringue, apple snow. I wonder why...

It's not the prunes that were a problem for me, mind you. I've enjoyed those at the breakfast table all these months and I probably wouldn't have minded a dish of stewed prunes for dessert with last Sunday's vintage dinner. The first time I came across Apricot Whip as the suggested dessert, I skipped it entirely as I wasn't interested in eating uncooked egg whites. When I took a closer look at the recipe last weekend, I realized that you could bake the Whip and serve it warm. "Why not?" I thought. I've tried to approach this experiment with a sense of adventure.

Here's the picture: Stewed prunes, mashed into a puree. Egg white beaten until stiff, sugar folded in. Blend and bake. Top with nuts.

That's certainly one kind of motivation for passing on dessert. The small taste I had is still seared into my mind. Fortunately, my dinner last weekend wasn't a complete wash. There are about a dozen recipes for stuffing in The American Woman's Cook Book (1945) --- all but one made with bread crumbs, not the bread cubes we typically use for stuffing today. I tried one of the more basic bread-crumb recipes and used it to stuff the centers of my Baked Acorn Squash. Tasty, but I think I'd rather a heartier stuffing made from whole-grain bread. The salad was a classic '40s combination: grapefruit, avocado, romaine lettuce, and a vinaigrette dressing.

I'm looking ahead now to the menu for tomorrow's vintage dinner and prunes are once again on the menu. This time in the salad. Stay tuned!

New Routines

Did you ever notice that as soon as people find out you're regularly walking, they come out of the woodwork to try and make you their walking buddy?

First, a co-worker asks me if she can match me up with a friend of hers who needs a walking buddy. Then another person I know through work tries to get me to commit to a walking relationship. I hope I don't come off as impolite, but I'd really rather walk by myself. Let's face it. Sometimes walking with another person can speed you up --- sometimes it can slow you down. The people I pass when I'm walking are almost always in pairs. And the last thing I want to do is to have to rush to the park to sit around and wait for somebody who might be late showing up - and then might show up toting a kid or two. Complete with strollers. I've got business to take care of!

I gathered up all my courage Monday evening and went into the rec center to purchase a membership and take my first indoor walk on the walking track. The rec center may be located just a few steps away from the park where I've been walking on the weekends --- but it's a whole new world in there! It's louder for starts. The walking track is built around a basketball court with racquetball courts nearby. There's lots of testosterone in the air as most of the people using the basketball court are young men in the 15-25 age range. I've only been there twice, but I'd say there's a more competitive feeling indoors than there is with the folks using the outdoor track. (It's actually the first time I've wanted to check my rear view in the mirror to see whether those new exercise pants are flattering or not!) The track is pretty small, so I can easily do 30 laps in a 60-minute walk. Thank goodness for that iPod. I'd perish without it! I'll still have a chance to walk outdoors one day a week. The rec center is closed on Sundays.

As for snacks, I'm doing remarkably better at the only-fruits-or-vegetables thing than I thought I would. Of course, it helps that nectarines are in season here. I picked up some beautiful, small nectarines last weekend at one of the natural foods stores. They've got a great selection of produce and I was in quest of some parsnips for my vintage dinner - but the nectarines caught my eye. Have you seen how big the fruits are in some of the supermarkets these days? They must be breeding super-sized fruits for super-sized customers. And bigger isn't always better. I'm a nectarine nut, so imagine my excitement when I saw these massive nectarines at the supermarket last summer. Ack! They were mealy and bland and never got to that lovely soft stage where the fruit just melts in your mouth. Anyway, I've been having one nectarine every day at about 3:00 in the afternoon. That's it for snacks. This weekend will probably be more challenging than my weekdays have been, but I'm feeling ready to face the enemy.

Here's the menu for my vintage dinner last Sunday:

Parsley Buttered Potatoes
Pan-fried Parsnips
Molded Salad of Cranberry Sauce (canned), Celery and Apples
Butterscotch Pudding with Nuts

I haven't had Parsnips in years. In fact, I remember being slightly traumatized the last time I ate them. It's been a long time, though, so I figured I ought to give them another shot. They have a spicy, celery-type scent as you're working with them, but once cooked they were pretty bland. Didn't taste like much of anything. What I've heard since then is that Parsnips are tastiest in the fall when they're fresh from the soil. Alas, my first attempt at a non-gelatin Molded Salad was a dismal failure. I tried just heating up a can of the jellied cranberry sauce, adding the celery and apples, and putting the concoction in the fridge to chill - but it never quite set. I'm going to track down some of the agar a couple of my readers mentioned and try that next time.

It's Thursday evening, which means that it's time to clean my bedroom. The first order of business will be the daily chores recommended by America's Housekeeping Book (1945). This will be my new weekly routine for the bedroom:

Open windows top and bottom for free circulation of air.

Remove all bed covers; stretch over end of bed, or over chairs, off the floor. Remove soiled bed linen; place near door to be taken out. Place mattress pad over chair near window to air.

Bring in cleaning equipment: carpet sweeper or vacuum cleaner (according to need), dust mop, dust cloth, damp cloth. Bring in fresh bed linens.

Turn mattress top to bottom one week, and end to end the next week. Make bed.

Dust high objects if necessary (mantels, high shelves, window frames and sills, tops of bookcases, etc.).

Dust radiators covers if necessary.

Brush upholstery if necessary. Straighten covers. Plump up pillows.

Dust furniture and low objects if necessary.

Dust exposed wood flooring with dust mop if necessary. Use carpet sweeper or vacuum cleaner on rugs or carpets.

Polish or wash accessories and return to place with other objects removed during cleaning.

Final touches: Straighten draperies, shades, curtains, etc. Take out cleaning equipment and waste basket. Bring back clean ash trays, accessories, flowers and waste basket. Close windows if desired.

I'm kicking off my new monthly chores (recommended in 1945 as weekly chores) by making my bedroom the featured room this week. So here are the extra chores I'll also be doing in there tonight. Brushing walls is a whole new thing for me this week. More on that in another post...

Collect lamp bases, bric-a-brac and dressing table fittings that need polishing or washing, and dresser scarves to be laundered.

Brush walls when necessary. Dust high mouldings, door frames, window shades and Venetian blinds when necessary. Brush draperies (or use brush attachment of vacuum cleaner). Dust mirrors, pictures, lighting fixtures, lamps, woodwork; wash any of these articles if necessary.

Dust radiators (covers and coils) or registers; clean thoroughly when necessary. Brush baseboard or use brush attachment of vacuum cleaner. Dust book shelves and books as necessary. Wash windows when necessary.

Remove cushions from upholstered furniture. Use brush attachment of vacuum cleaner on furniture (getting into all crevices) and cushions. Replace cushions.

Rub wood surfaces of furniture to polish; apply wax or polish when necessary. Polish metal hardware if necessary. Wash glass table tops.

Use vacuum cleaner for cleaning of rugs and carpets.

The evening is short and I've got a bed to strip. Time to shed my dress and get to work!

Meal Plan

Raise your hand if you know how easy it is to make homemade Scalloped Potatoes...

Scalloped Potatoes
Buttered Beets
Carrot Strips
Baked Apple Stuffed with Dates

I was completely caught off-guard when I started preparing my vintage dinner last Sunday evening. I thought Scalloped Potatoes would be one of the tougher potato recipes in my cookbook. Wrong! It's one of the few potato dishes that don't involve having to boil or even parboil the potatoes beforehand. It took me maybe 15 minutes from start to finish, then the oven did the rest of the work. My mom's a wonderful cook, but the only Scalloped Potatoes we ever ate were the rubbery kind that came in a box.

And I think I've discovered the trick to Beets. Boil them in as large a pot as you can find in your cupboard. A five- or six-quart Dutch oven should do the job. Make sure you've got a lid for the pot that fits tightly and don't boil them at too high a temperature. If I don't do any one of these things, I'll end up with pink water stains all over my stovetop! The Baked Apple Stuffed with Dates was quite good, too. But what I love most about it was that I was able to make it in a single serving size. No leftover sweets hanging about this week.

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SCALLOPED POTATOES

6 medium-sized potatoes [I cut this recipe in thirds.]
Salt and pepper
2 tablespoons flour
4 tablespoons butter
Milk

Pare raw potatoes and cut them into thin slices. Place in a baking dish a layer of the potato one inch deep, season with salt and pepper, sprinkle a portion of the flour over each layer, add a part of the butter in bits. Repeat and continue until required amount is used. It is best not to have more than two or three layers because of difficulty in cooking. Add milk until it can be seen between the slices of potato, cover and bake (350-400 degrees F.) until potatoes are tender with a fork (1 - 1 1/2 hours). Remove the cover during the last fifteen minutes to brown the top. Serve from the baking-dish.

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My transition to healthier snacks (fruits or veggies plus protein) is going pretty well. I'm measuring out the proper serving sizes for now, but hoping to be able just to eyeball them soon.

Hummus = 2 tablespoons
Low-fat Organic Cottage Cheese = 1/2 cup
Almonds = 25 nuts (This seems a bit much. I could probably do just fine with half that or less.)

The only thing that really frustrates me is that I keep forgetting to pack a snack so I can get that late afternoon pick-me-up while I'm still at work instead of being ravenous when I get home at 5:30. I've got to try and remember this tomorrow. Pack both lunch and snack. I'd rather eat a snack at 3:30 or so and not be in such a rush to eat something as soon as I get home.

One of the things I'm rapidly discovering about reducing is how important planning can be. A couple weeks ago, a friend asked me to lunch. I accepted - and then remembered my rule of thumb: "No eating anything I haven't purchased at the grocery store." Well, I did promise myself some exceptions for social occasions, but I had to do some planning so I could enjoy the experience without feeling guilty. I added 30 extra minutes to my walk the day before so I wouldn't miss out on my workout. And I also suggested we hit a restaurant where I knew I could get a yummy salad. This Friday, I'm meeting up with a group for drinks after work. I rarely drink sodas, so I think a diet soda would be treat enough for me. I may not be home 'til late, so maybe I'll check the menu ahead of time and find out if there's something resembling healthy which I might be able to consider dinner.

Here's an example of poor planning. I had promised to babysit my nieces one evening after work. It's tough to cook anything there for yourself with a toddler and baby to mind, so - without even thinking - I figured I'd "pick something up" on the way to their house. That afternoon, I suddenly remembered my then-new rule of thumb. Eek! What would I do? Well, I ended up stopping at a sub shop to pick up a veggie sandwich. It could've been worse, but it could've been better. Next time, I'll pack a dinner from home - something I can heat up quickly.

I'll wrap up this post - which somehow became entirely about food! - with a dilemma facing me for this weekend's vintage dinner. The salad course is a Molded Salad of Cranberry Sauce (canned), Chopped Celery and Apples. I never make molded salads as gelatin is an animal by-product, but do any of you know if it would be possible to mold something using the jellied cranberry sauce that's sold in the can? It certainly starts out molded... I was wondering if it'd be possible to fold the celery and apples into the jelly, then form it into some sort of shape. Any advice?

Who Says You Can't Make Time Stand Still?

Dare I say it? I think my nights are getting longer.

The absence of television seems to have slowed down the clock here at the Jitterbug household on weekday evenings. I noticed this for the first time several days ago. "It must be about 10:00," I thought, looking up at the clock. Nope, just 8:30. "It must be a fluke. Just a coincidence," I told myself. Nope, I felt that extra jag of time the next night - and again the next. It's like the morning that Daylight Savings Time ends, when you're smiling like the Cheshire Cat just to luxuriate in bed for an extra hour. It's an absolutely unexpected phenomenon, but I'm loving it!

My evenings are beginning to feel positively leisurely... and that's something this working woman never thought she'd hear herself say about a weekday evening. It used to be that I'd get home from work, heat something up for supper - snap my fingers - and it'd be bedtime. These days, I find myself actually reading, thinking about taking hot baths, and singing the greatest hits of 1944 as I give the kitchen a little extra magic.

It's like I found a way to stop time! We've been talking about it for years, but I've actually found a way to add hours to the day!!! (Now the trick is going to be not to fritter away that extra time with equally fruitless pursuits.)

Some of the downsides to being without television:

Where to eat dinner? I don't let myself eat my vintage dinner on Sunday evenings in front of the TV, but that never stopped me any other night of the week. Now I find myself all awkward when I'm ready to eat. Like somebody all dressed up with no place to go. (You'd think the clean kitchen table at my elbow would be a hint.)

I find myself in odd moments fantasizing about some of the great television I've watched over the years. Masterpieces like Homefront, life-altering documentaries like The Farmer's Wife, even the cheesy, comforting sitcoms that wrap problems up so neatly in a 30-minute bow. When I tune back in, I don't want to spend the time that's standing still for me now on anything that I don't wholeheartedly enjoy.

A Little Bit of Everything...

I'm still slogging away at the bathroom. Ran out of Comet partway through the job yesterday and decided to head on out and do my marketing, then finish the bathroom later. Sadly enough, now it's "later." The Comet has been replenished, I've had a good night's rest, my morning walk is finished. I'll patch off some breakfast and then get back to that miserable room.

My mantra while cleaning the bathroom this week: "It will never again be as hard to clean as it is today." "It will never again be as hard to clean as it is today." "It will never again be as hard to clean as it is today." That's true, I know. As grimy as it is right now, if I'm cleaning it every week - it will never again be anywhere near this bad. Each week, I'll get it even a little shinier. I'm holding on to that! More on bathroom cleaning in another post...

Alas, the coleus I adopted for a houseplant a couple months ago did not survive. It did okay as long as I was taking it outdoors to my landing on weekends. But once it started getting really hot, I worried about leaving it in the intense heat and kept it inside. The colors faded, it shed some leaves, and one day just crumpled up and died. *sigh* My grape ivy is doing well, although one side isn't very perky looking. (That's the side that doesn't even get much artificial light in the corner of the kitchen where I've kept it.) So out it goes! Maybe the fresh air and sunshine will do it some good. I don't want to lose the grape ivy, too!

A co-worker offered me some bell pepper plants last week. Determined to press on in my quest for some great plants about the house - inside and out - I brought home a tiny seedling and a more mature plant, both in pots. I think they might do okay on my landing, but I'll need to water them more often than the succulents. I also picked up a small sansevieria- commonly called a bowstring hemp in the 1940s - to fill the spot near my sink where the coleus used to sit.

Here's one of the things I'm really looking forward to after this interminable summer is over --- my parents will be in town for the winter! They've been doing the snowbird thing and spend a few months most winters at one of the resorts on the edge of the city. I can't claim to be the reason they're here - it's all about the grandbabies - but I love having them so close. And I can't wait to share these vintage dinners with them! (My mother, God bless her, oohs and aahs every time I tell her what I'm up to in the kitchen.) This was last weekend's 1945 dinner menu:

Boiled Rice
Buttered Beet Greens
Orange Salad
Cherry Batter Pudding

I think I've finally got this non-instant rice thing down pat --- now if I could just remember not to make so much. 1/2 cup dry rice is just enough for me + one serving of leftovers. I've always loved Beet Greens - fresh from Mom's garden with a splash of vinegar - yum! The instructions in my cookbook call for you to work with young beets and to chop the roots right up with the greens after they've been boiled. Unfortunately, my supermarket only carries a few raggedy ol' bunches of grown-up beets. So I chopped the tops off these beets - along with the greens - and used those in lieu of young beets. What's great is that the next dinner menu in my cookbook calls for beets, so I may be able to use what's left of 'em in my next homecooked meal.

The Orange Salad was very simple. Chopped orange segments on a bed of greens with a drizzle of viniagrette --- "French dressing" in '40s lingo. I made a substitution for the dessert course. The menu included a Bread Pudding made with Honey. After my last disastrous attempt at Bread Pudding, I just couldn't face it again this soon. So I picked out another recipe in the chapter on puddings and tried to find some way to use up the bottled cherries in my fridge. The Cherry Batter Pudding came out wonderfully - a light, fluffy cake over a layer of fruit - but, between the heat and my unexpected success on the scale Tuesday morning, I haven't had any desire to eat the rest! (Plus I read a horrifying bit of trivia in a magazine the other day. Did you know one cupcake can undo 115 minutes of walking?) I'm not thrilled about wasting food, but I think I should take this as a warning. If I'm going to continue making the desserts for my vintage dinners, I've got to cut the recipe down as small as I would the rice. And I need to invest in some containers for the freezer. There are some things you just can't wrap up in aluminum foil! Speaking of cutting recipes, do any of you know how to cut a one-egg recipe in half?

I've been listening to lots of vintage radio this week, including the second season of The Great Gildersleeve. The second season (1942-1943) is when the program really came into its own. Gildy got a job as Summerfield water commissioner. Leila Ransom, a flirtatious Southern widow, moved into the house next door and stole Gildy's heart. They became engaged and planned a wedding in June - just in time for the season finale and a wild turn of events on the wedding day! Richard LeGrand joined the cast during the second season as Mr. Peavey, the local druggist ("Well, now, I wouldn't say that.") and Floyd Munson, the local barber, pops up every time Gildy heads downtown for a shave. Marjorie got a war job over the winter and began dating a coworker, Ben. At season's end, Ben joined the Navy. Will Marge see other young men while Ben's away?

Kraft spent much of the second season promoting Pabst-Ett, a product that sounds a heck of a lot like Velveeta. Ads often combined a spot for the product with a public service announcement promoting things that might make marketing on the home front a little easier: menu planning, shopping early in the week, and shopping early in the day. Are you a menu maker? Do you find that planning your meals, say, a week in advance, makes feeding your family easier on the pocketbook - or easier on your waistline? Or do you prefer to stock up on the things you like and wait until mealtime to see what you're in the mood for eating?

It's Eight O'Clock Somewhere

Do you remember when Consumer Reports ranked Eight O'Clock Coffee the best brand of Colombian coffee? I don't make coffee at home very often - it's free at work - but I've been impatiently waiting for my supply to run out so I could try some Eight O'Clock for myself. When I finally reached the bottom of the can, I put coffee on my grocery list and picked up a bag of Eight O'Clock in whole bean form, grinding it at the supermarket. It was priced somewhere in the neighborhood of $7. More than I'd usually pay for coffee, but an affordable luxury if I'm only making coffee at home once or twice a week. There was an air of excitement about the Jitterbug place yesterday morning as I measured the Eight O'Clock into my Drip-O-lator... Well, it turned out to be a great cup o' joe! A very smooth flavor without any of the aftertaste I've gotten used to with store brand coffee. In honor of the occasion, I thought I'd post some tips on coffee making from The American Woman's Cook Book (1945). First, the all-important measurement:

For weak coffee, use 1 level tablespoon coffee to 1 cup water.

For medium coffee, use 2 level tablespoons coffee to 1 cup water.

For strong coffee, use 3 level tablespoons coffee to 1 cup water.

There were all kinds of methods for making coffee in the '40s. Drip coffee makers - the ancestors to our modern Mr. Coffee - seem to have been the most popular as the cookbook addresses these first:

FILTERED OR DRIP COFFEE - There are many coffee-pots on the market for making filtered coffee. They all contain some sort of a strainer which allows the water to drip through the coffee very slowly. Pulverized coffee should be used for this method. Place the coffee in the strainer and pour boiling hot water over it. If the infusion is not strong enough, refilter it. Serve immediately. Glass tricolators of oven glass ware are excellent for making filtered coffee, as they hold the heat well.

BOILED COFFEE - Put the coffee into the pot with the white of an egg or some egg-shells and a little cold water and stir all together thoroughly. Pour boiling water over it and place on the stove. Cover the spout of the coffee-pot or stuff it will paper to preserve the aroma. As soon as it boils up, reduce the heat and allow it to settle. A quarter of a cup of cold water poured in will cause the coffee to settle more quickly. Do not allow it to become muddy by careless pouring. To avoid this, decant it into a hot serving-pot.

PERCOLATED COFFEE - Use the correct size percolator for the number to be served. Measure fresh-running cold water into pot to same number of cups. Measure coffee, finely ground or pulverized into the basket, using 1 heaping tablespoonful to cup of water. Use medium hot or flame until percolating begins, then lower flame and continue for 8 to 10 minutes, when the liquid in the glass cap is light brown or deep amber. Serve at once. Prolonged percolating dissipates the fine aroma and flavor.

Has it really been a week since my last vintage dinner? I don't think I've shared the results yet. Here's the menu:

Peanut Roast

Pennsylvania Cabbage Slaw with Sour Cream Dressing

Dried Apricot Cake

The recipe for Peanut Roast was clearly the dream of some well-intentioned person with a misconception that protein can come from a limited variety of sources. Desperate to put some protein on the table during wartime, the author combined a whole mess of chopped peanuts with onions, garlic, bread crumbs, egg, and "pea pulp" (I used a can of condensed green pea soup). They suggested serving it with a cream sauce --- and I can see why. It's a very dry dish. You'd definitely want to smother it with something creamy and flavorful! This one didn't even get turned into leftovers, but I tried to finish my plate and thanked God that we've discovered soy since Peanut Roast was dreamed up.

The Pennsylvania Cabbage Slaw was absolutely lovely! A quick and dirty version of cole slaw, and a cool side dish that'd be perfect for a summer evening. The Dried Apricot Cake was very good as well. I chose it from the cookbook when I realized the Apricot Whip originally on the menu was made with raw egg whites. The Dried Apricot Cake was sweet and moist and pretty easy to make once I'd finished stewing the apricots. It's funny to me still that I can actually leaf through a cookbook now and find any number of recipes where I've already got all the ingredients at hand. The bennies of a well-stocked pantry! I'm going to post the Pennsylvania Cabbage Slaw recipe as it was definitely the star of the show last week. Any Keystone Staters out there who know why this dish is named after Pennsylvania?

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PENNSYLVANIA CABBAGE SLAW

2 cups shredded cabbage

1 green or red pepper, cut fine

1 teaspoon salt

1/2 cup Sour Cream Salad Dressing [see below]

Mix shredded cabbage, pepper and salt; pour dressing over cabbage and mix well. Makes 6 portions.

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SOUR CREAM SALAD DRESSING

1 teaspoon salt

1 tablespoon sugar

1/8 teaspoon cayenne

1 tablespoon lemon juice

2 tablespoons vinegar [I used apple cider vinegar]

1 cup sour cream

Combine all ingredients and mix thoroughly. Makes 1 cup.

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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?

"...one more glass to the good"

You know something I love about the 21st century? We've learned that you don't have to beat your vegetables into submission by boiling them to a pulp and smothering them in white sauce, bread crumbs, and cheese!

Parsley Potatoes
Baked Broccoli
Lettuce and Tomato Salad
Coconut Blanc Mange
Cherry Sauce

I guess the good thing about a dish like Baked Broccoli is that it makes a simpler broccoli recipe look absolutely lovely in comparison. There are so many lighter and more flavorful things you can do with an easygoing veggie like this one. The Parsley Potatoes were tasty as always. The Lettuce and Tomato Salad was a surprise! I had only glanced at the recipe before Sunday and didn't get a full picture of what was in store for me. Very Art Deco... like shiny, little, red domes on the salad plate...

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Lettuce and Tomato Salad

3 Tomatoes
Lettuce leaves
6 tablespoons French dressing

Scald the tomatoes, remove the skins and chill the tomatoes. Just before serving time, cut them in halves, crosswise, and place one piece, with the outside upward, on each serving-plate with one or two leaves of white, crisp lettuce underneath. Pour over each portion a tablespoon of French dressing.

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The Coconut Blanc Mange was, well, meh. Kind of a soft, bland pudding with the coconut doing must of the job at holding it all together. It might've been a little better if made with whole milk. Or maybe a dash of coconut extract. My Cherry Sauce was a miserable failure. It never really thickened and the ingredients didn't meld. Well, it's probably for the best that I'm not discovering fabulous new desserts these days!

Today marks the second day of my new water regime. I set the goal for this mission at eight 8-ounce glasses per day as that seems to be the gold standard when it comes to H2O. Apparently, that rule of thumb has been around for awhile. Dr. Walter H. Eddy, a professor of physiological chemistry, was interviewed for a newspaper article in July 1940 and advised that adults drink two quarts of water per day to maintain optimum health. What do you know, two quarts = 64 ounces!

After using a measuring cup marked with ounces to determine how much water the various glasses in my cabinet held, I figure I was probably drinking about 40 ounces per day before this mission. I downed 64 ounces yesterday without much difficulty, but I'm not there yet today and the day is short. I think I've just got to remind myself --- when I'm thirsty, reach for water first.

The Evening Independent's Alicia Hart weighed in on this very topic in December 1943:

Few of us ever drink the eight glasses of water a day which are recommended for health and a clear complexion. Maybe it's the idea of eight glasses all together that appalls us. But properly spaced throughout the day, eight glasses are not as many as you imagine.

For instance, petal-skinned film star Gene Tierney, who has just kept a date with the stork but will be back at the studios very shortly, makes a habit of having a tall glass of warm water with a half lemon squeezed in it before breakfast each morning.

If you like, add a teaspoonful of mineral honey - clover or alfalfa - to make it more palatable. It's a marvelous morning pick-up and a boon to clearer, smoother complexions.

And when you feel hungry in the middle of the day, yet you know very well that you ate a substantial enough lunch, drink a tumbler of water. It'll fill the void and you'll be just one more glass to the good.

Also, if you've been trying to lose weight, drink a glass before lunch or dinner and you won't want to eat so much. No, actually, eight glasses a day aren't too hard to take at all.

"Lady, Better Lose Those Hips!"

I wish I could tell you that my workouts leave me energized and full of pep, but they don't. At two weeks, I was feeling a new spring in my step. At four weeks, I'm just feeling all broken down. My lower back aches. My left knee feels a little sore. And I had forgotten just how painful 100-degree weather can be. Going outdoors at noon these days feels like climbing inside an oven. (Those lunchtime walks are going to have to shift indoors next week!) I'm hanging in there because I'm seeing results, but the last week has not been easy. I keep wishing I'll get to this magical point when I look forward to my walks. When I can't wait to get out there and move! Nope, still torture.

There are a few things I've begun doing to try and make these walks a little easier on my body. I have been remembering to wear a baseball cap - even at 7:00 in the morning on the weekends - so at least I don't have to worry any longer about getting my scalp or forehead sunburned. I purchased some SPF 55 sunblock this weekend to protect my neck and arms, particularly on those mid-day walks. My knees and back would probably appreciate my bringing some socks and sneakers to work for the week so those lunchtime workouts can be a little easier on my joints. And I've been putting it off, but I really should be doing some stretching after my walks.

Yesterday, I did some looking about online for tips on stretching. What a surprise to learn that you're not supposed to stretch before a walk! Apparently, you can really injure yourself by stretching cold muscles like that. You're supposed to warm the muscles by walking at an easy pace for awhile before speeding up to a brisk pace. The ideal walk should end by doing another stretch at an easy pace, then some simple stretches for the legs, lower back, and shoulders. I'm no personal trainer, so I'll just refer you to one of many interesting websites on this subject. I tried the first three stretches myself after my walk this morning:

http://www.helium.com/items/455379-best-stretches-before-walking-for-exercise

Alas, I haven't been able to find much in the way of vintage advice on post-walk stretching. Lots of advice on stretching for better posture - and lots and lots of "limbering" exercises - but nothing specific to flexing and relaxing the muscles used in a good, brisk walk. 1940s beauty experts acknowledged that walking was an effective way to trim the figure, but they didn't treat it quite as scientifically as they did most things. Betty Clark had a few recommendations in a women's page article titled "Lady, Better Lose Those Hips!" (St. Petersburg Times, September 24, 1943):

Walking, which is the best hip-slimmer known, is pretty difficult to do by the mile when time is at a premium, especially today - unless you are fortunate enough to walk to and from your daily work. This doesn’t mean strolling. Walking, to be effective, should be at a brisk, steady pace.

It is wise to exercise in the morning upon arising. Otherwise, you may find yourself too tired for exertion in the evening.

In a 1940 column, Miss Clark advised wearing sensible shoes when walking for sport --- and, by all means, put some "knee action" into your walk "for the sake of grace"! Helen Follett, another beauty expert of the era, wrote in 1940:

The thigh bulge comes to women who sit at their desks, typewriters or sewing tables all day. They don't get enough exercise to keep the muscles strong. Fibers grow slack, adipose tissue builds up. Squatting exercises are helpful, so is high kicking. Walking at a brisk pace is recommended.

Something that's been troubling me lately is that so many of my shirts are ending up with grease stains. Just one stain per shirt (always in the chest area), but it's enough to make them unsuitable for anything but wearing at home. I'm not sure why I don't notice it when it happens, but by the time I do - usually at the ironing board - it's too late. The shirt has been through the wash, and the stain is set. And it's not that I've been doing that much cooking with hot oil. I'm not sure why I'm ending up with all the grease stains. I guess it's just that I'm cooking more in general. Even scrambling eggs or making an omelet means I'm working over spattering grease. Several shirts later, it's finally occurred to me that there's a reason women used to wear those full aprons with the placket covering the chest. They weren't just for looks! And the half aprons that I usually wear don't do the job. From now on, it's full aprons for me... I've got two of them, and I'm looking for a place in my kitchen where I can keep them within arms' reach. No excuses. I can't afford to keep buying new shirts!!!

It's Sunday, which means it's time for another 1945 dinner. Here's my menu for tonight:

Parsley Potatoes

Baked Broccoli

Lettuce and Tomato Salad

Coconut Blanc Mange

Cherry Sauce

From everything I've heard about Blanc Mange, I'm a little creeped out. I think I'll make as small a batch of dessert tonight as possible!

A Minute on the Lips...

Last night's vintage dinner was a super spicy one - from garlic to cloves, I worked that spice rack like never before! All in all, though, it was very good. I'm actually looking forward to the leftovers. Here's the menu, straight from 1945:

Lima-Bean Casserole

California Beets

Mixed Greens Salad (Iceberg, Romaine)

Honey Rice

The cookbook didn't include a recipe for the very casserole it was pushing in the menu section, but - quite by coincidence - I came across one in an article on reducing in the October 1945 issue of Good Housekeeping. A fortunate turn of events, because the casserole was really yummy. Filling and hearty and fairly easy to make --- though it took some planning.

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Lima-Bean Casserole

1 cup dried lima beans

3 1/2 cups cold water

1 cup chopped fresh or canned tomatoes

1/2 cup minced onion

1/2 cup diced celery

2 tablesp. brown sugar

2 1/2 teasp. salt

1/8 teasp. pepper

Pick over, then wash dried beans. Soak overnight in the cold water in a deep kettle. Then simmer in the same water, covered, over low heat, for 30 min.; drain; return 1 cup of this liquid to beans. Add remaining ingredients; pour into a greased 1 1/2-qt. casserole. Cover; then bake in a slow oven of 300 degrees F. for 2 hrs., or until beans are tender, removing the cover during the last 30 min. Serves 4.

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I substituted garlic here as I'm not a big onion person, but wanted something with equally big flavor. I put the beans on too high a heat during their initial simmer and wish I'd taken my time on this step and let them build to a simmer on a medium heat. The California Beets were a sort of sweet and spicy "pickled" side dish. Small, whole beets - I used canned beets in a nod to commercially-prepared foods - heated in sauce of margarine, lemon juice, cloves, sugar, and pepper. They actually went very nicely with the basic green salad.

The big surprise in last night's menu was the dessert. I had no idea what to expect as I read through the recipe for Honey Rice. Would it turn out like a rice pudding? Nope, no milk or eggs... You should've seen my face as I prepared this dish. I was absolutely sure by the time it was 2/3 done that I wouldn't be able to eat it! What do you know - it wasn't just edible, it was good. Tasted a little like a macaroon or the inside of some delicious chocolate candy. Both the California Beets and Honey Rice are recipes from the special wartime cookery chapter appended to the back of the cookbook. Note: The Honey Rice was very rich. You'll only need a small serving! I cut this recipe in half.

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Honey Rice

1 cup uncooked rice (I used brown basmati rice)

3/4 cup honey

1/2 cup raisins

1 tablespoon butter

1 tablespoon lemon juice

1 teaspoon vanilla

1/4 cup chopped nuts

Cinnamon

Wash rice thoroughly and cook in boiling salted water until tender. Drain. Heat honey in a heavy pan, add rice and raisins and cook about 5 minutes. Pour mixture into a well-buttered shallow baking dish and dot with butter. Bake in a moderate oven (350 degrees F.) until golden brown [mine took about 20 minutes]. Remove from oven and stir in lemon juice and vanilla. Sprinkle with chopped nuts and cinnamon. Serves 8.

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All this talk of food reminds me of a question that came to mind as I was powdering my face this morning. When and where was it proper for women in the '40s to touch up their makeup? I know my dusting of face powder doesn't last out the day, and we've all experienced the need to make a visit to the powder room to touch up our lipstick after a meal - or, in my case, Chapstick! I'd better see what Lily Haxworth Wallace has to say...

It seems useless, and I suppose it is, to tell the girls today that they should not make up in public. That is a duty which should be performed in the privacy of their boudoir or in the semi-privacy of dressing rooms. A girl would be outraged if her escort took out his pocket comb and nail file, smoothing his hair and manicuring his nails at table in a restaurant. However, she does much the same when she ostentatiously applies powder, lipstick, and rouge in the same place. However, some of the persons in the most fashionable sets are guilty of this rudeness - a fact which in no way makes it right. (The New American Etiquette, 1941)

Sounds like she's convinced she's fighting a losing battle. (Oh, dear, what would she have thought of today's women?) Mrs. Wallace also reminds the working girl that "make-up of any kind" should NEVER be applied at any time on the job except when she's in the rest room. Armed with the best vintage advice, I think I'll tuck my new face powder in my purse and take it to work during the week for a little mid-day touch-up in the rest room.

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.

Catchup

I can't believe it's been three days since my latest vintage dinner and I haven't posted the results! Yesterday was kind of a tough day. I was running late in the morning and ended up having to dish my oatmeal and pineapple into a mug and eat it when I got to work. (Not the most relaxing breakfast I've ever had!) I'd forgotten about some lunch plans and needed to get my five walks for the week in - so I went to the park after work. Which made me late getting home and feeling very unmotivated to do anything else. Yep, the routine took a hit yesterday, but I was back in the game when my alarm clock went off this morning. With a new resolution: No internet allowed in the a.m. on a weekday. I love getting online to find out what's going on in the world, but it's definitely a liability when it comes to time.

Here's the 1945 dinner menu I whipped up last Sunday evening:

Browned Potatoes

Asparagus Salad

Enriched Bread

Fresh Fruit Cup, Three

The Browned Potatoes are also called American Fried Potatoes in the cookbook. Potatoes parboiled, then cut in slices and fried on the stovetop in a "very little fat." I boiled mine for too long to start, so they were a little softer than I'd have liked - but still good. The Asparagus for the Salad was boiled, then chilled 'til cold. (Canned asparagus was suggested as an alternative.) The recipe instructed me to cut rings from a green pepper, place four stalks of asparagus through each ring, and serve on a bed of lettuce. The basic French Dressing recipe was dressed up this week with a squirt of Catchup, but it didn't make much of a difference in the taste. You know, I think if there's one thing I step away from when it comes to these menus, it'll be the dressing. I cut the recipe in eighths and still end up having to throw much of it away. I may go ahead and buy a bottled viniagrette that I can get some real use from.

Fresh Fruit Cup, Three was a real puzzle... I finally realized that the cookbook contains three recipes for Fresh Fruit Cup. The author must have been calling for the third version this evening. It was a tropical fruit salad - diced orange, diced pineapple, and sliced banana served in layers in a tall glass with coconut. The one step I'd do without next time? Pouring fruit juice over the whole affair before serving. I used orange juice thinking it'd go nicely with the fruit, but it just made the whole thing soggy.

My vintage dinners on Sunday evening have become a lovely kind of ritual. I still make lots of mistakes, but I guess that's the only way you can learn how to cook. The one thing I'm really proud of is that I've been making myself eat at least one serving of leftovers. (Those of you who have been following along know that I have some issues with leftovers!) I've found that if I nudge myself hard - and eat 'em before they're three days old - I can shelve those phobias about food spoilage.

Unlike my housework last night, my vintage beauty missions were not sacrificed to my mood. And the walks might be paying off. I could be imagining things, but I think I actually felt a little spring in my step today. Fancy that! It's as if my muscles are slowly waking up - fiber by fiber - and remembering what they're there for. I had this strange sensation just in walking around the office at work today. This feeling that I could go a little faster and a little farther. It's been just two weeks since I started exercising. That's only ten walks. If it feels like this at two weeks, can you imagine what it'll feel like at four weeks - and eight weeks?