More Christmas menus

The above recipe is from Modern Housekeeping, December 1905. You may find it hard to read. Here’s what it includes:

Oysters on Half Shell     Lemon Slices
Clear Soup     Bread Sticks
Baked Red Snapper, Parsley Sauce
Cucumber Salad
Roast Goose, Apple Sauce
Riced Potatoes     Boiled Parsnips
Orange Sherbet
Roast Haunch of Venison
Barberry Jelly
Dressed Lettuce
Plum Pudding, Hard Sauce
Peach Ice Cream in Sticks
Cake     Coffee

In December 1901, American Kitchen magazine provided four separate menus for Christmas dinner. Raw oysters, Lobster Newburg and Broiled Quail are included alongside the roast turkey we are more familiar with at Christmas today. Here they are, formatted as they were in the magazine:

GRAPE FRUIT.
CHICKEN CONSOMME.       SALTED ALMONDS.
LOBSTER NEWBURG.
BROILED QUAIL.        MUSHROOM SAUCE.
PINEAPPLE SHERBET.
ROAST GOOSE.        CHESTNUT STUFFING.
APPLE SALAD.        SWEET POTATO CROQUETTES.
PLUM PUDDING.
MARLBORO PIE.        NUTS.        RAISINS.
COFFEE.

OYSTER SOUP.
CELERY.        OLIVES.        BROWNED WAFERS.
ONION STUFFING.       ROAST GOOSE.        APPLE SAUCE.
GLAZED SWEET POTATOES.        TURNIPS.
LEMON ICE.
CHICKEN CROQUETTES.
APPLE AND CELERY SALAD.
PLUM PUDDING.        MINCE PIE.
LEMON JELLY.        LEMON QUEEN CAKES.
NUTS.        DATES.        COFFEE.
APPLES.        ORANGES.

RAW OYSTERS.
JULIENNE SOUP.        CELERY.
ROAST PIG.        STUFFED POTATOES.        ONIONS.
APPLE SAUCE.
BOILED TURKEY.        POTATO CROQUETTES.
MOLDED SPINACH.
WAFERS.        LETTUCE SALAD.        CHEESE.
NEAPOLITAN CREAM.        CAKE.
COFFEE.

RAW OYSTERS.
CONSOMME.        ROLLS.        CELERY.        OLIVES.
ROAST TURKEY.        MASHED POTATOES.
SQUASH.        ONIONS.        BROWNED SWEET POTATOES.
PINEAPPLE SHERBET.
TUTTI FRUTTI.        CRANBERRY JELLY.
MINCE PIE.        PLUM PUDDING.
GRAPES.        FIGS.        DATES.
NUTS.        CANDY.
ORANGES.        APPLES.
COFFEE.

Lastly, vegetarianism is not new. Meatless Cookery by Maria McIlvaine Gillmore was published in 1914, and includes several holiday menus, such as:

CHRISTMAS MENU
Salpicon of Fruit
Tomato Bisque       Rice Biscuit
Radishes      Pine Nuts       Ripe Olives
Curried Vegetables       Sauce       Diced Cucumbers
Potatoes à la Maître d Hôtel
Spanish Onions       Cranberry Sauce
Apple and Celery Salad       Wafers
Caramel Ice Cream       Assorted Fruit       Creamed Cheese on Wafers

Perhaps some of these menus will inspire you to add old-style Christmas food to your holiday meals this year.

An all-American Christmas dinner, 1914

Browsing through Google Books (something I spend far too much time doing), I stumbled on an interesting article from a 1914 issue of American Cookery. At the time, World War I had newly broken out in Europe, but the United States remained officially neutral.

In this article, an American family declares war on expensive imported foods and converts the previous year’s Christmas menu to an American-grown feast for 1914. Consistent with the nation’s stand of neutrality, all traces of foreign content are removed, even the English plum pudding and the French word “menu.” But even in 1914, Americans couldn’t do without their coffee.

Censoring the Christmas Dinner

By Stella Burke May, American Cookery, December 1914

A state of war existed in the hitherto peaceful household of the American John Smith, for Mrs. John Smith, generalissimo of the kitchen, had declared war on foreign food products.

Among the causes which led to this declaration were, first; that the Smith household was being constantly menaced by the air fleet of Imported Products, which had dropped a High-Cost-Of-Living bomb on its commissary department, and second; that foreign invasion, during the past twelve months, had well-nigh wrecked the John Smith treasury.

In proof of this latter accusation, Mrs. Smith produced her Christmas menu from the previous year, which showed the foreign element in strong supremacy.

Feeling the need of support from a strong ally, she called her husband from his evening newspaper, and showed him the line-up of his last year’s Yuletide dinner.

“Shades of the Father of His Country,” exclaimed John as he glanced over the card. “No wonder they had war in Europe!”

This is what he read:

Christmas Dinner, 1913
Anchovy Canapés
Mushroom Consommé
Salted Wafers     Celery     Spanish Olives
Broiled Smelts     Maitre d’hôtel butter
Roast Turkey     Plain Dressing     Duchesse Potatoes
Buttered Brussels Sprouts
French Peas     Creamed Onions     Cranberry Frappé
Chinese Celery     Prune, Apple-and-Nut Salad
Neufchatel Cheese
English Plum Pudding     Hard Sauce
Mandarin Oranges     English Walnuts     Malaga Grapes
Café Demi-Tasse

So, even as the European press censor, pencil in hand, goes over his war dispatches, deleting a word here, a phrase there, lest his own particular country appear at a disadvantage or the enemy profit by the context, did Mrs. John Smith go over her Christmas bill of fare, eliding every foreign combination and condiment, and steering clear of the high C’s of yester-year such as “canapés, consommés and cafés,” this American censor effaced all evidence of foreign domination, and launched her transport upon neutral waters from cocktail to coffee.

With patriotism coupled with ingenuity, she set herself to the task of preparing a dinner that might stand uncovered as the flag goes by.

“I will avoid even the appearance of partizanship (sic),” she told herself, “and not even call this a menu. It shall be a bill-of-fare this year.”

“And there must be no foreign flavor, no paprika, no French or Italian olive oil in the salad, no imported wines or brandies.”

They both agreed that a canapé was decidedly contraband, and while it might serve if disguised under the title of “appetizer,” felt that Baltimore oysters served on their native shell, with Iowa horseradish, Oklahoma catsup, and thin slices of California lemon would be in strict neutrality.

The consommé must become a soup; not even a bouillon, but a plain vegetable soup, and asparagus seemed to meet all the maritime laws.

If the market afforded fresh radishes, they would be added to the soup course, but in no event would Spanish olives pass muster. In fact all “hors d’oeuvres” were now “hors de combat.”

The fish course was abandoned as an extravagance, since oysters were to open the meal, so the maitre d’hôtel butter was thus disposed of.

“How would it be to buy the turkey on the ‘hoof’ this year?” queried her husband. “I will kill and dry-pick it and you can hang it in the refrigerator for a couple of days before Christmas.”

“Turkey! Turkey!” exclaimed his wife in supreme astonishment. “Why, John Smith, we’re not going to have a fowl with a foreign name like that. We’re to have roast goose, with chestnut stuffing.”

For the main course, then, it would be roast goose, with chestnut stuffing and potatoes.

“Remember,” cautioned John, “there will be no vegetable with a foreign name like Irish potatoes.” So avoiding the belligerent waters in which sailed “‘potatoes a la Hollandaise,’ French fried, German fried, au gratin, O’Brien, Hongroise” she landed at sweet potatoes, Southern style, and added this to her card.

Brussels sprouts came under the same indictment. “I always have thought Brussels sprouts are just sort of ‘babes-in-the-wood’ cabbages that lost their way, so I think we will just have creamed cabbage and be done with it.”

“Onions ought to pass without an investigation,” John said, as he watched her writing “baked onions,” “but be sure they’re not Bermudas and have no foreign flavor.”

Next, cranberry frappé was shorn of its alien looks and appeared in homespun as “cranberry jelly moulded,” and the understanding was that they were to be Wisconsin grown.

Small light rolls made with Minneapolis flour would be served with the meat course.

The salad course was quickly disposed of. Following the dinner of the previous year, she chose a salad of apples, celery-and-walnuts in heart lettuce cups. She would insist on New York Jonathan apples, Michigan celery, Illinois walnuts and Florida lettuce, served with a cream dressing. In place of the Neufchatel cheese, she would serve cottage cheese spread between thin slices of brown bread, along with the salad. The “yellow peril” celery was, of course, taboo.

“I don’t see why they always have English plum pudding, when New England minced pie contains all the ‘stuff that dreams are made of,'” said John, and, his Commissary General agreeing with him, resolved to have New England minced pie with frozen pudding.

For nuts she selected Georgia paper-shell pecans. These, with Florida tangerine oranges and California raisins would seem sufficiently “censored.”

And, lastly, of course, coffee in half cups, with Louisiana cut-loaf sugar and home-grown cream. She realized she must call upon her neighbors in South America for the coffee, but they both agreed that Brazil coffee in a Connecticut percolator should pass the most captious critic.

Assembling her national dinner, this was what she produced:

Christmas Dinner, 1914.
American Plan.

Baltimore Oysters on Half Shell
Served with horseradish, catsup and thin sliced lemon
Asparagus Soup
Salted Wafers     Fresh Radishes
Roast Goose
Chestnut Stuffing
Alabama Sweet Potatoes, Southern Style
Baked Onions     Creamed Cabbage
Cranberry Jelly in Moulds
Small Light Rolls
Apple-Celery-Walnut Salad in Heart Lettuce Cups
Brown Bread-and-Cottage Cheese Sandwiches
New England Minced Pie
Frozen Pudding
Florida Tangerines     Georgia Paper Shelled Pecans     California Raisins
Half Cups of Coffee
Louisiana Sugar     Cream

So, stripped of her foreign garments, and clothed in a brand new gown with a fine domestic finish, we behold the American Christmas dinner for the Americans at home, and while we greet our guests, the American John Smith will insert a new needle and start “The Star Spangled Banner.”

American Cookery may not have taken this very seriously. The recipes they provide later in the issue contain many of the verboten foreign flavors.

(Want to see a few more Christmas menus? Stay tuned. I’ll post some more later today.)

“None need go without a Christmas day”: Plum Pudding, Old Style

Click on this image to see a larger copy of this 1930s plum pudding recipe. Scan by Daily Bungalow.
Click on this image, then click All Sizes, to see a larger copy of this 1930s plum pudding recipe. Scan by Daily Bungalow.
Christmastime is the perfect time to investigate old-timey recipes. Finding time to cook them is another story, however. But I can still look for ideas.

I’ve never actually had a plum pudding. I know that they aren’t common in the United States, or at least, not in the Pacific Northwest, where I live. Is it that the recipe is old-fashioned, or is it just that it was never popular in this country?

Looking for something Christmasy, I stumbled on a book with the substantial title: Dr. Chase’s Third, Last and Complete Receipt Book and Household Physician, Or Practical Knowledge for the People: From the Life-Long Observations of the Author, embracing the Choicest, Most Valuable and Entirely New Receipts in Every Department of Medicine, Mechanics, and Household Economy; including a Treatise on the Diseases of Women And Children. In Fact, The Book for the Million. With Remarks and Explanations which adapt it to the Every-day Wants of the People, Arranged in Departments and most Copiously Indexed, by A. W. Chase, M. D., the “Memorial Edition” published in 1891, after Dr. Chase’s death.

Dr. Chase includes six different “receipts” (recipes) for plum pudding, and devotes space to many other different puddings, too. A whole chapter in the book is devoted to puddings, including such odd concoctions to our eyes as Pop-Corn Pudding, Salt Pork Pudding, and “Hunter’s Pudding, Boiled—Will Keep for Months.” There is much Resurrected Recipes fodder to be found here, though I imagine we will stay away from the Salt Pork Pudding.

One of the plum pudding recipes is written, charmingly, in verse:

Plum Pudding to Englishmen’s Taste, No. 3, In Rhyme.—
To make plum-pudding to Englishmen’s taste,
So all may be eaten and nothing to waste,
Take of raisins, and currants, and bread-crumbs all round;
Also suet from oxen, and flour a pound,
Of citron well candied, or lemon as good,
With molasses and sugar, eight ounces, I would,
Into this first compound, next must be hasted
A nutmeg well grated, ground ginger well tasted,
With salt to preserve it, of such a teaspoonful;
Then of milk half a pint, and of fresh eggs take six;
Be sure after this that you properly mix.
Next tie up in a bag, just as round as you can,
Put into a capacious and suitable pan,
Then boil for eight hours just as hard as you can.

Here is the recipe that Dr. Chase specifically mentions for Christmas:

Christmas Plum-Pudding, No. 6, Old Style.—Stone 1 1/2 lbs. of raisins, wash, pick and dry 1/2 lb. of currants, mince fine 3/4 lb. of suet, cut into thin slices 1/2 lb. of mixed peel (orange and lemon), and grate fine 3/4 lb. of bread-crumbs. When all these dry ingredients are prepared; mix them well together, then moisten the mixture with 8 eggs, well beaten, and one wine-glass of brandy; stir well, that everything may be thoroughly blended, and press the pudding into a buttered mould; tie it down tightly with a floured cloth, and boil 6 hours. On Christmas day a sprig of holly is usually placed in the middle of the pudding, and about a wine-glass of brandy poured round it, which, at the moment of serving, is lighted, and the pudding thus brought to the table encircled in flames.

Remarks.—With half-a-dozen plum-puddings none need go without a Christmas day, certainly. The only point that seems to me unreasonable is the long boiling, 8, or even 6 hours, which appears to be more than is needed. A circle of three ladies, to whom I referred the matter, gave it as their judgment that 3 hours would be sufficient. Let English people stick to the old custom, but Americans will find that from 3 to 4 hours will cook them perfectly. [See the Paradise Pudding below, which is only to be boiled 2 hours.] A wine-glass, at least, of brandy is almost universally put into the sauce upon Christmas occasions.

I probably won’t make these, as suet is one of those things that I don’t eat. (Maybe we can talk Kristen into it…) I challenge you all to try one of these recipes, and let us know how they turn out.

Published Monday, January 1, 1900 in the San Francisco Call. Courtesy of Indiamos.
Published Monday, January 1, 1900 in the San Francisco Call. Courtesy of Indiamos.

Happy Thanksgiving: My grandma’s pumpkin pie

My grandma's pumpkin pie recipe

This is a recipe card from the 1960s or early 1970s with my grandmother’s pumpkin pie recipe. I make this recipe at least once a year, and it’s always very good. You can see it’s been spilled on a few times! None of that evaporated milk stuff for Grandma — this uses none of it, and just has you scald the milk. And none of those premixed “pumpkin pie spices”! You can mix your own.

Pumpkin Pie
Serves 6
Recipe from the kitchen of Mom

1 recipe pie crust
2 c. pumpkin – add 2 eggs beaten slightly – Add
1/2 c. granulated sugar
1/2 c. brown sugar
1 t. cinnamon
1/4 t. ginger
1/4 t. cloves
1/2 t. salt
Add 1 c. scalded milk. Pour into shell and bake at
450F – 10 min.
350F – 30 min.

For 2 pies use large can pumpkin and double everything else.

I suppose it could be written a little more clearly. I’d probably edit it to read as follows:

Pumpkin Pie
Serves 6
Recipe from the kitchen of Mom
Edited by Wendi

2 c. (one small can) pumpkin
2 eggs, beaten slightly
1/2 c. granulated sugar
1/2 c. brown sugar
1 t. cinnamon
1/4 t. ginger
1/4 t. cloves
1/2 t. salt
1 c. scalded milk
1 recipe pie crust

Preheat oven to 450F.
Stir beaten eggs into pumpkin.
Add dry ingredients (sugar, spices, salt) and mix well.
Stir in scalded milk until mixture is smooth.
Pour into shell and bake at 450F for 10 minutes,
then lower the oven temperature to 350F and continue cooking for 30 more minutes.

Pie is ready to serve when a knife stuck in the middle comes out clean.

For 2 pies, use a large can of pumpkin and double everything else.

Pumpkin pie isn’t really a recipe that needs resurrecting — people eat it every Thanksgiving. It hasn’t lost any popularity. But most recipes you see these days call for evaporated milk, so perhaps this version with plain milk will interest some of you. (I’ve used this recipe with soy milk, incidentally — and it was delicious.)