Portland Punches: Selections from Portland Women's Exchange

One more punch post today -- this one is a round up of punch recipes from The Portland Woman's Exchange Cook Book. All these come in the chapter "Beverages for Invalids and Others." If you're feeling need of validation, pull up to the punch bowl.

Exchange Fruit Punch

1 doz. lemons.
3 oranges.
1/2 cup cherries.
1 1/2 cup sugar.
2 cups fruit juice (any kind).
Enough water to make 1 gallon.
Mrs. Gertrude Hall.

Just so you know, it was very hard to type periods at the end of each line there. I'm so used to the current convention of, well, no periods at the end of ingredients in recipes.

I'm pretty sure that this Gertrude Hall is the Gertrude Hall, who, at the ripe old age of 10, crossed the continent as a pioneer, and survived the Whitman massacre. If she is, she and her second husband, Owen Denny, were the people who introduced pheasants to Oregon. I say "if" because, well, they don't list her as Mrs. Gertrude Hall Denny, which is how most places reference her. Let's just imagine she's a survivor of the massacre...and that she makes a mean punch.

Fruit Punch
1 cup lemon juice.
2 cups sugar.
1 pt. fruit juice (made of currants, raspberries, strawberries--all sorts).
1 pineapple, grated.
2 quts. water (ice).
Mrs. Henry E. Jones

Also hard: typing "quts." instead of "qt".

I've never thought of grating a pineapple, but I'd imagine that is a handy way to get pineapple pulp. You know, if you can't just hop down to the store and buy a can of crushed pineapple.

I won't rat you out if you choose to go the crushed pineapple route. If you grate, though, I'd love to see pictures of the process.

There's a portrait of Mrs. Jones in the Smithsonian's collection. The inventory tag reads:

Mrs. Jones was the wife of Thomas A. Savier, an early Portland resident (1850), and after his death she married Dr. Henry E. Jones, an early Portland surgeon and first chief of staff of St. Vincent's Hospital.

And, just because we can, let's call her by her maiden name: she was born Mary Miller. Thanks for the recipe, Mary.

One more!

Laureate Mint Punch

Put into a punch bowl 1 cup granulated sugar; add the juice of 6 lemons and stir until the sugar is dissolved. Then add three lemons sliced very thin and set it in the ice chest until ready to serve. Then add 1 dozen sprays of mint and a quart or more of crushed ice. Stire well and pour from a height into it 2 or 3 bottles of imported ginger ale.
Mrs. H. D. Story.

That sounds refreshing! I'm not at all sure how big the bottles of ginger ale are, but I'm absolutely sure you don't have to splash out for imported stuff. How about we go with "add to taste" or "go for about a gallon of total volume"?

Punch Request: Fruit Punch Delight

I got a request for some non-alcoholic punches that didn't include fruit juice concentrates. Here's one from the Milwaukee Ward Relief Society Cookbook:

Fruit Punch Delight

2 c. strawberries
2 bananas
1 c. sugar
1 (20 oz.) can crushed pineapple (drained liquid reserved)
3/4 c. pineapple juice from crushed pineapple
1 qt. orange juice
1 1/2 c. water

Combine strawberries, bananas, pineapple and sugar in blender. Blend until well mixed. Combine with remaining ingredients and stir well. Chill and serve. Makes 3 quarts.

--Gertie Weilder, Pat Leake

Good golly, it's a fruit punch that uses actual fruit! 3 quarts isn't a whole bunch, though--I like to think of punch in terms of gallons.

Questionably Elegant Hostess Gifts; Cuban Diplomatic Bread Pudding

Today's recipe from Hunger No More: Food & Fellowship from the Episcopal Diocese of Washington is a great Washington sort of recipe. It didn't originate here, and it is all about places that you've probably never been, yet it wraps the familiar and mundane in so that it seems all sorts of...normal. Nothing could be more normal and dull than canned fruit cocktail, right?

Cuban Diplomatic Bread Pudding
International: Cuban

1/2 loaf of fresh Ciabatta bread (any bread without a hard crust), cut into small pieces
2 cups sugar
2 cups milk
4 Tbsp butter
4 eggs
2 Tbsp Grand Marnier
1/4 tsp ground cinnamon
1 pinch nutmeg
1 tsp vanilla extract
1/2 tsp almond extract
1/4 tsp of salt
1 cup canned fruit cocktail, drained

Preheat oven to 350F. Caramelize 1 cup of sugar in a shallow 9 inch square baking pan. Tip pan to cover sides, until sugar turns light amber brown. Do not let the sugar foam.

Pre-soak the bread slices in milk. Puree in blender and reserve. Combine the eggs, Grand Marnier, cinnamon, nutmeg, vanilla, almond extract, and salt. Puree in blender and reserve. Pulse 1 cup of sugar with butter in the blender, and combine with egg mixture and puree. Combine with bread and milk mixture.

Put the fruit cocktail in the caramelized baking pan. Pour the batter in the pan. Place the pan in a large glass pan (Pyrex), pour hot water in the large glass pan halfway up the sides of the baking pan. (I prefer a large glass pan as you can monitor the water level from the oven door.) Place the pan in the oven, and bake the pudding for approximately 2 hours. Do not allow the water level to reach the bottom of the pan. You can tell it's done when a knife inserted in the center comes out clean.

Remove the pudding from the oven and allow it to cool on a wire rack. Turn the cooled pudding upside down onto a serving plate and refrigerate before serving.

Serves 10.

This recipe goes along with one of my favorite stories my grandmother used to tell when she made it. In her days in Cuba, a can of fruit cocktail was the most elegant hostess gift; not available in Cuba, it meant you had American connections. This dessert has become my father-in-law's favorite.

Ivonne Burgess
Christ Church, Durham

I'll admit it: I question the elegance of a can of fruit cocktail as a hostess gift. Though, hey, there have been times in my life where a can of Spaghettios would have been seen as a very clever and thoughtful gift indeed... I'll ponder this further.

I love a good bread pudding. They're highly adaptable creatures, and I'd be tempted when tinkering with this dish to do away with the water bath. Yes, yes, it makes the custard set up all smooth and perfect, but we threw caution to the wind over Thanksgiving and did cheesecakes sans water baths, and I'm feeling like tweaking the cooking gods' noses again. Nerds to the water bath!

Consider switching up the fruit here, unless you're making it for an elderly Cuban expat who will recall the fruit cocktail elegance with fondness. I'm thinking that a can of cling peaches would be good here. I imagine it would work with any canned-in-syrup fruit.

Christ Church makes St. Alban's look like a toddler. It was founded in 1661. Not a typo. It came in to being when Charles II was king in England. That, friends, is a very long time ago.

Regionals: Duck's Stuffed Ham

Sometimes, I love having this blog. Turns out, the compiler of the Bachman Family Cookbook found this here blog, and commented. So, now I've met a cousin of some stripe (if we share a great grandparent as our closest common ancestor, we're, what...second cousins?), who works with the county museum back in North Dakota. There's tons of family stuff for me to rifle through, and it's a great feeling. It's not every day one learns more about one's great grandparents, ya know?

Today's Hunger No More: Food & Fellowship from the Episcopal Diocese of Washington recipe was a quick substitute. Originally, I was going to post Southern Maryland Stuffed Ham recipe, because there's a good bit of history included, but I just couldn't bring myself to write about people owning other people tonight. So, suffice to say, there's hundreds of years of history going on with this dish, and more than a little baggage going along with it.

Duck's Stuffed Ham

12 lb corned ham
3 lbs watercress
2 lbs kale
1 small head cabbage
4 onions
4 hard boiled eggs
salt to taste
black pepper to taste
red pepper to taste

Have the butcher debone ham and tie. Slit pockets in ham to hold stuffing, about 1 inch apart. Grind watercress, kale, cabbage, onions, and eggs together (a food processor makes this easy). Season stuffing to taste with salt, black pepper, and red pepper. Stuff into slits, pack them full. Put any leftover stuffing on top of ham. Sew into an old pillowcase or wrap with cheesecloth. Place in a kettle of cold water to cover. Bring to a boil and simmer 22 minutes per pound (a 12 pound ham takes 4 1/2 hours). Cool in liquid. When cool, remove and drain, then refrigerate.

This recipe is best prepared a day and a half ahead. This recipe was given to Lucille by her dear friend, "Duck" Shelton, who is now deceased. It was her mother's recipe.

Lucille Dyson
Recipes compiled by Episcopal Church Women
Christ Church, Port Tobacco

I can't say I've ever run across a recipe that called for stitching anything into a pillow case before. The other stuffed ham recipe sticks to cheesecloth, but as that one calls for a 20 pound ham, it's possible that there just weren't old pillowcases big enough.

Great Closing: Book Group Apple Cake

Today's recipe from Hunger No More: Food & Fellowship from the Episcopal Diocese of Washington is actually from my own church! St. Alban's has been serving DC as a free church for 157 years. (What's a free church, you may ask? Well, back in the day, most churches charged pew rent; St. Alban's never did, by design.)

There's a book group at St. A.'s, and, like book groups the world over, it's at least partially fueled by food.

Book Group Apple Cake

3 large apples, roughly diced
2 cups sugar (I mix white and brown)
1/2 cup vegetable oil
1 cup raisins (soaked in brandy is nice, for adults)
1/2 cup chopped, pecans (optional)
2 eggs, beaten
2 tsp vanilla
2 cups unbleached flour (replace 1/4 with wheat germ for added nutrition)
2 tsp baking soda
2 tsp cinnamon
a few shakes of ground cloves
1 tsp salt

Mix chopped apples with sugars, then add oil, raisins and/or nuts, eggs and vanilla. Mix dry ingredients together and stir into moist mixture. Bake in a 9 inch square pan (or a tube pan) at 350F for one hour, or until done (test with a toothpick). Serves 12.

So named because our parish book group urged its inclusion in the cookbook. We don't know if the cake keeps well, since there's never any left.

Joyce Walker
St. Alban's, DC

To be honest, it's not the St. Alban's connection that made me include this recipe. No, it's the last sentence, the epic closing, that promise of cake so wonderful you'll never have a crumb left.

I dig a recipe with a promise.

I'll wager it keeps well -- so much of the cake is sugar and apples, it's just bound to be moist as all get out.

This week's daily reminder: you can order your own copy of Hunger No More and support feeding ministries in the DC area.

Father John's Christmas Biscotti

Usually, in a church cookbook, the recipes are from the laity. Hunger No More: Food & Fellowship from the Episcopal Diocese of Washington has its fair share of church lady (and church gent) contributions, but also a few gems from the clergy.

Father John's Christmas Biscotti

1/2 cup butter, softened
1 1/2 cup sugar
4 large eggs
1 1/2 tsp grated lemon rind
1/2 tsp vanilla extract
5 cups all-purpose flour
2 tsp baking soda
1 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp kosher salt
1 cup dried cranberries
1 cup shelled (unsalted) pistachios

Preheat the oven to 325F. Beat the butter at medium speed with a mixer or by hand until creamy. Gradually add sugar, beating well. Add eggs one at a time, beating after each addition. Add lemon rind and vanilla extract, mixing well. Combine flour, baking soda, baking powder, and salt (unless the pistachios are already salted) then add the dry mixture to the butter mixture. Beat just enough until the dry ingredients are moistened. Turn the dough on a lightly floured surfave and with floured hands mix in the dried cranberries and the pistachios.

Divide the dough in half or in quarters. Shape each portion into a log and place the logs on lightly greased baking sheets. Slightly flatten the logs and leave room for them to expand. Bake at 325F for 30 to 35 minutes, until golden brown. Let cool for 5 minutes then transfer the baked logs to a wire rack to cool completely.

Using a good serrated knife, with a gentle sawing motion, cut the logs diagonally into thin slices. Place the slices on ungreased baking sheets and bake for 10 minutes at 325F. Turn each slice over and bake the other side for 10 minutes. Makes 48.

Between parts, the dough or baked logs may be put in the refrigerator overnight. Any dried berries or nuts may be substituted. The biscotti keep well and may be frozen. Depending on the size of logs and slices, yield is 3 dozen to 5 dozen.

Many a sermon has been written over the years between the various steps of biscotti-baking. This recipe was a marked improvement over an earlier version that involved green food coloring, yileding a chartreuse and unappetizing cookie that looked like something out of Dr. Seuss. Sometimes packaged as "Father Beddingfield's Twice-Baked Biscuits," this and similar recipes have come in handy for church bazaars and fund raisers, not to mention pastoral calls.

John Beddingfield
All Souls, DC

So, the "Father John" part of the recipe is pretty clear -- this is Father John Beddingfield's recipe. The "biscotti" part is also straightforward -- the twice-baked cookie is a biscotti, plain and simple.

The "Christmas" part is a bit more suited for interpretation. Biscotti are a good addition to your Christmas cookie tray, to be sure. Nuts have long been a part of Christmasy food traditions, too. But I like to think it's the no-longer-a-part-of-the-recipe green food coloring that made this recipe a Christmas biscotti.

All Souls is tucked next to the National Zoo on Cathedral Avenue. It's one of 88 churches in the Episcopal Diocese of Washington, and, I'm kind of embarrassed to say it, but I don't think I've ever laid eyes on it. Why embarrassed? Well, it's all of two miles from my home, and you'd think I'd have noticed a pretty stone church near one of my favorite places in the town I've lived in for twenty one years. You'd think.

But no.

Remember: you can still order Hunger No More: Food & Fellowship from the Episcopal Diocese of Washington and help fund feeding ministries in the Washington, DC area.

Hunger No More, by the Episcopal Diocese of Washington; Homemade Egg Noodles

Today at St. Alban's, we had an Alternative Gift Fair to kick of Advent. One of the tables was for the diocese's hunger fund, which gets money out to feeding programs across the Washington area. I snatched up two copies, because, well, I loves me a church cookbook, and I also contributed a ton of recipes.

Hunger No More: Food & Fellowship from the Episcopal Diocese of Washington was edited by Kimberly Bujak, Lucy Chumbley, and Ann V. Talty, and came out just last month (October 2011). They call it "a cookbook that celebrates food, fellowship and the spirit of friendship and community that abides in the Diocese of Washington."

There's still time to order one if you're looking for a Christmas gift for your favorite cookbook lover--the books are $20 each, $12 of which is tax deductible.

Now, it's the week after Thanksgiving, and you might be in need of some leftovers help. If you've a mind to make turkey noodle casserole, why not try your hand at making your own noodles?

Homemade Egg Noodles

1 egg
cream
salt
flour

This recipe is over 100 years old and was told to me years ago in Colorado by my grandmother. First, you crack an egg into a medium-sized mixing bowl, saving half the egg shell. Measure cream into the saved half-shell and add the cream to the egg in the mixing bowl. Add a pinch of salt and stir with a fork. Add flour and stir until the dough forms a ball, then turn out onto a floured surface.

Roll out the dough to desired thickness and cut into strips. Grandmother used a sharp knife for this and I use a pizza cutting wheel. The raw noodles can be dried for a couple of hours at this point, but it's not absolutely necessary. Grandmother hung the raw noodles to dry on clean tea towels on the backs of her kitchen chairs.

Place the noodles into your pot of chicken soup and let them simmer for half an hour or more before serving. The flour on the noodles thickens the soup nicely.

Donna Courtney
St. Dunstan's

For your casserole needs, you'll want to be cooking these up on their own, not as part of soup. Though, heck, you can cook them in stock--extra flavor is a good thing. I wouldn't go a half hour of cooking time, though. You'll want to test for doneness often, as you don't want them falling to mush in the casserole dish.

A lot of the recipes in Hunger No More have little snippets of stories included, sharing how the dishes show up in the contributors' lives. I don't think I'll be typing out the 4 page recipe for sourdough bread, but knowing that it exists makes me happy -- I like a conversational tone in recipes.

Bonus Post: Ceviche Costa Rica Style

My hands smell like limes, and I don't have a cocktail in front of me. Astute observers might conclude that I've been making something else with lime juice. And, it's true. I've been making ceviche, but if you're used to having ceviche at your local tex-mex place, you might be a little cautious when you see mine.

Ceviche, Costa Rica Style
1 lb bay scallops (sea scallops work, too, but are more expensive, and
need to be cut into bite-sized bits)
4 limes
1/2 bunch cilantro
1/2 red onion (or, you know, any other onion you have around)
1-2 glugs olive oil
salt
saltine crackers
mayo
ketchup

Place scallops in a clean, non-reactive bowl or jar. Cover with the juice of 4 limes -- the scallops need to be covered in the juice. Add cilantro and onion, both finely chopped, salt, and olive oil. Let marinate in the fridge overnight -- it helps to put plastic wrap over the bowl, letting the plastic rest on the surface of the ceviche to make sure there's no air getting in. Serve on crackers, garnished with a mixture of mayo and ketchup.

I say the recipe is mine; it's not. It's really my dad's (that's him in the picture above..handsome devil, no?). See, way back in the 80s, Dad went on sabbatical to Costa Rica, and he ambitiously took my sister and I along. I look back at that and have to realize: I am now two (nearly three) years older now than my dad was when we went. It is a weird feeling. Anyway, long digression short, my grandma came down to stay with us for several months, and with the anniversary of her death this month, I'm all sorts of nostalgic for all things family.

Back to the fish. My dad fell in love with ceviche down there, and when we got back to the States, he worked and worked to recreate it. He had the darnedest time finding cilantro (this was Oregon, in the early/mid-80s, after all), and no one had heard of ceviche. He prevailed, and this is how I know ceviche.

Dad and I would stand around the kitchen counter, spooning the fish out of a tall jar onto a saltine, and then dolloping on a ketchup/mayo sauce (mix 1 part to 1 part).

I know that sounds strange. I know that we're conditioned now to think only of tortilla chips and maybe some salsa when eating ceviche.

The saltines and Marie Rose are authentically 1984 Costa Rica. I will vouch for it. Give it a try. Throw caution cautiously to the wind. If you end up hating it -- and I've never met anyone who does -- you can always rip open a bag of Tostitos and uncap a jar of Jardine's.

I've got a bowl of ceviche tucked into the fridge, and tomorrow evening, I'll be eating it with friends.

Costa Rica style.

Bagdad Hash: Classic Scary Casserole

Thanks to you all who voted on Facebook, today's Favorite Recipes from Caldwell, Idaho recipe is....a scary casserole!

Bagdad Hash
Laura Hadley
Star, Idaho

1 c. diced celery
1 c. diced onion
1 can cream of mushroom soup
1 can water
1 (5 1/2 oz.) can chow mein noodles
3 or 4 oz. cashews
1 can tuna
Crushed potato chips on top

Bake for 1 hour at 350° in 2-quart dish.

This, folks, is what I think of when I think of a casserole. Heck, it's what I think of when I think of chow mein noodles, too (though butterscotch haystacks come swiftly afterwards). Cans of stuff, mixed with fried crunchy things. I particularly appreciate the fact that we get two fried crunchy things in this recipe (the noodles and the chips).

You could fancy this up if you want. Two cups of your own homemade cream of mushroom soup (or cream of celery soup, or cream of chicken soup, or what have you) would be lovely. Softening up the onion and celery before putting it in the gloop would be nice. Buttered and herbed breadcrumbs instead of potato chips would add an air of cassoulet.

But sometimes, you're just in the mood for simple, comforting, slightly scary casseroles, and Laura Hadley has you covered.

Not sure why Bagdad is spelled Bagdad and not Baghdad here. Moreover, I'm not sure why I'm at all surprised by the fact that a dish that clearly has nothing whatsoever to do with Baghdad is spelled differently.

This wraps up our tour through Favorite Recipes from Caldwell, Idaho -- starting tomorrow, we'll dive into one of these cookbooks:

• Chop Suey
  A Collection of Simplified Chinese Recipes Adapted for the American Home Chop Suey A Collection of Simplified Chinese Recipes Adapted for the American Home by Mei-Mei Ling
• Mader's: Recipes of Continental Europe
  from Milwaukee's famous German restaurant
• Amazing Magical Jell-o Desserts
  from the fine folk at General Foods
• NAHC Wild Game Cookbook, 1988
  from the North American Hunting Club, "celebrating North America's hunting youth"

You can vote over in the Facebook poll if we're friends there, or you can leave a comment with your preference here in the comments. If you're bummed out that we didn't get to Norwegian meatballs this week, you should know: NAHC has a venison Norwegian meatball recipe. It also has moose pot roast.

Blotkake: A Special Occasion Layer Cake

Yesterday, I slapped a poll up on Facebook asking which of three recipes from Favorite Recipes from Caldwell, Idaho should be posted today. This one won by a landslide, but never fear: the second place one will go up tomorrow, too, as I run yet another poll on Facebook asking which cookbook I should feature next. Without further ado:

Bløtkake (A Special Occasion Layer Cake)
Mrs. Bjorn Friling

1 1/4 c. sifted cake flour
2 tsp. double-acting baking powder
6 egg yolks
3/4 c. granulated sugar
6 egg whites
3 squares German's sweet cooking chocolate
3/4 c. margarine or butter
1 1/4 c. confectioners sugar
2 eggs
2 c. heavy cream

Make, then freeze, several days ahead as follows: 1. Heat oven to 325°. Line bottoms of three 9-inch layer cake pans with waxed paper. Sift cake flour with baking powder. 2. In small bowl, with mixer at high speed, beat egg yolks with granulated sugar until light. In large bowl, beat egg whites stiff. Fold in yolks and flour. Pour into pans. Bake 15 minutes or until golden. Cool on racks. Remove and freeze in paper. 3. Early in the day to be used: Thaw cakes at room temperature for 1 hour. Meanwhile, with knife, shred chocolate; reserve 1/4 cup. Also, in small bowl, with electric mixer at high speed, with electric mixer at high speed, mix butter with confectioners sugar. Then beat in 2 eggs until creamy. Refrigerate this butter cream. 4. On serving plate, place 1 layer, bottom side up. top with 1/2 of butter cream, then half of shredded chocolate. Set second layer in place, top as before; place third layer. 5. Whip cream; frost cake with some and decorate with rest. Garnish with reserved chocolate. Refrigerate immediately until served.

Say it with me now: BUTTER, not margarine. Use butter.

Now, if you've Googled "bløtkake," as I have, you might be surprised to see that there's not a single berry used in this cake. It's still legit! It seems that bløtkake is sort of catch as catch can in Norway. Use what you have, and what you like. Love marzipan? Cover the whole thing in Marzipan. Blueberries in season? Go to town with blueberries! The chocolate is pretty darned optional.

Chocolate lovers, be at ease: you can use chocolate and berries, if you like. Perhaps some lovely raspberries or sliced strawberries?

Mrs. Frilling also contributed her Norwegian Meat Balls recipe -- that's Kjøttkaker for you Norwegian speakers, or those who like the excuse to use a slashed ellipse in a blog post. That recipe is currently in the running for tomorrow's bonus post -- it's up against Bagdad (sic) Hash, which is a casserole with both canned chow mein noodles and crushed potato chips. Either way, we'll wrap up our time with Favorite Recipes from Caldwell, Idaho on a savory note.

Seasons Change: Hot Buttered Rum

Today's recipe might seem like a strange choice for the middle of August. But here's the thing: the seasons are changing. Sunset is at 8 PM here in DC, and won't be this late again until April. April! We are officially getting closer to the time when I won't have to say "well, it does have ice cream in it, so that's kind of summery..." to justify this Favorite Recipes from Caldwell, Idaho recipe.

Hot Buttered Rum
Dave Keuneman

Batter:
1 qt. vanilla ice cream
1 lb. brown sugar
1 lb. soft butter

Cream together. Keep refrigerated.

Drink (per cup):
2 heaping tsp. batter
1 oz. rum
6 oz. boiling water

Aaaaaah, hot buttered. The ice cream is a relatively recent addition to the hot buttered arsenal, but I'll tell you -- it's a great addition. If you're mixing this up the day you're going to use it, then the fridge is fine, but otherwise, store this in the freezer. The sugar and butter will help keep the ice cream soft enough to scoop out a big ol' spoonful when you feel a hankering for a hot buttered.

Yes, hot buttered, full stop. As a not-at-all-legal-to-drink kid, I loved a mug of hot buttered...water. It's really quite tasty. It's warm, and milky, and sweet, and spicy.

Spicy. Because of the spices. You know, those spices Mr. Keuneman left out of the recipe. You have two options here: You can use spiced rum with this unspiced batter, or you can add in, say, a tablespoon of cinnamon and a teaspoon or two of nutmeg. There is a third option, come to think of it: spice up the batter and used spiced rum.

Dave is one of only two men who have recipes in Favorite Recipes from Caldwell, Idaho -- Mike Neher has a duck with sauerkraut recipe that also has me yearning for wool-wearing weather. (Simple, really. Basically, it's "stuff a duck with a jar of kraut, and roast it.")

I suggest you make up a double batch of the hot buttered batter, and divvy it up into several quasi-disposable plastic food storage containers (oh, fine...I mean GladWare) and have them on hand for hostess gifts, cookie exchanges, neighbors who shoveled your walk for you, and so forth. It's a great thing to have, it's a great thing to share.

As much as I like making this myself, the best hot buttered rum in the world is at the Clapp Family 23rd Party, an annual caroling party back in my home town. Great people. Great pot luck. Fabulous singing. And a never-ending supply of hot buttered.

Homemade Hootch: Grape Wine

Yesterday, we talked about infusing cheap vodka to make more upscale booze, and, boy, did y'all come running. So, today, we'll look at another DIY hootch recipe from Favorite Recipes from Caldwell, Idaho:

Grape Wine

24 oz. frozen grape juice (undiluted)
1/4 cake soft yeast
4 c. sugar

Stir together with water to fill 1 gallon jug. Place a balloon on the mouth of gallon jug. Let mixture stand in a dark place 3-4 weeks.

What, none of the fine Caldwell Jay-C-Ettes wanted to put her name on Grape Wine? Tsk.

The balloon is your fermentation lock; it lets gas build-up out without letting bacteria in. Other sources for more, shall we say, complicated brewing methods, recommend pricking the balloon with a pin a few times. If the balloon starts swelling and you're worried, disinfect a pin and gently poke. Why not?

Let's talk yeast. It's a pretty safe assumption that they're calling for a 2 oz. cake. Fresh yeast can be a bit hard to find. Fret not: you can substitute other yeasts. Use one package of active dry yeast or instant yeast. It's not a perfect substitute, portion-wise, as it's more like 1/3 of a yeast cake, but you'll be okay.

This is not going to be nuanced -- you're using grape juice from the freezer case, after all. That being said, use quality ingredients, and meticulously clean vessels, and you'll have something drinkable, and the method is a lot less scary than making kvass.

Coffee Liquor: Kaluha

Cheap vodka is cheap vodka, but cheap vodka artfully and easily infused with other stuff is sublime. Sometimes, it even resembles Things With Brand Names. Favorite Recipes from Caldwell, Idaho has a great Thing That Resembles A Thing With A Brand Name, and a near-miss spelling that winks at indiscretion.

Kaluha
Darlene Perry

Boil 2 cups sugar and 1 cup water for 5 minutes. Remove from heat. Dissolve 6 teaspoons Yuban instant coffee, 2 teaspoons vanilla. Then add to sugar water. After it has cooled for a while, add a fifth of vokda (any kind) and 2 teaspoons of glycerin (buy at drug store). Mix well. Pour in half-gallon jar and drink, drink, drink and be merry.

Oh, Darlene Perry. You're our kind of people (not to mention our kind of recipe writer/digressor). I love the brand specificity of the instant coffee. Apparently, they still make Yuban though I'm much more likely to stock Starbucks VIA
in my pantry. I should clarify here -- I love that the only brand specificity here is for the Yuban. The vodka is rail, and the drink, well...the drink can't spell.

I've had this. I've made this. This is tasty. Great in coffee or cocoa, great mixed into milk, great poured over ice cream, great on the rocks. Easy to make, cheap, and tasty. If you're a-okay with alcohol, give this one a try.

[E.T.A.: You can order glycerine through Amazon (and, I'm assuming, other online vendors) these days. Why do you want it in your liquor? It rounds out the mouth feel and takes off any harsh edges to your cheap booze).]


Biographical note time: I will have to check with Aunt Robbi, but I'm betting that Darlene Perry is really Joy Darlene Willmorth Perry, who died in 2008. This is from her obituary:

In 1983, she changed careers and became the Children's Librarian at Caldwell Public Library. Her next 15 years at the Library were the happiest of her working life. She retired from the library in 1998, but never ceased to think of libraries, especially Caldwell's, as magical places. This love of libraries and books has been passed on to her children and grandchildren.

Joy was an avid reader. Any conversation with her would inevitably include the question, "Read anything good lately?"

Yes, yes we have. And, if the Kaluha Ms. Perry is the Library Ms. Perry, well, then...I met her. I know that library; Aunt Robbi worked there. And, frankly, if I were running the summer reading program at the Caldwell Public Library in the mid-80s, I might be coming up with some nice concoctions to mark the end of a long, hard day, too. (The summer reading program is going on right now, folks -- there's still time.) If there is or was another Darlene Perry in Caldwell, with ties to my aunt, I'd love to give proper attribution -- but I'm not sorry I found out about Joy. I must have spoken with her several times, but now I know something about her.

Drink, drink, drink and be merry.

Smelting on the Sandy: Pickled Smelt

I am a notoriously bad fisherwoman. I've been abysmal on lakes, rivers, and in the mighty Pacific. I suck at fishing.

I do remember, though, the one time I couldn't help but be successful. When the smelt run, if you go smelting, you will get smelt. The smelt were running up the Sandy River, and we smelted, by gum.

I don't remember eating the little fish -- I'm sure they were eaten, and I'm sure I sort of avoided them -- but I'm still fascinated with the shiny things, in part because they're eaten whole. Heads, guts, and all. Let's see how the Jay-C-Ettes prepare their smelt in Favorite Recipes from Caldwell, Idaho:

"Kuskokwim Smelt," by Andrea Pokrzywinski
Licensed under Creative Commons.

Pickled Smelt
Claudia Pugsley

Cut fish into bite-sized pieces. Add 1/2 cup salt to 2 quarts fish. Cover in white vinegar and let stand in refrigerator for 5 days.

Drain vinegar. Rinse and soak 1/2 hour in water and drain again. Add onion slices to fish and cover with 2 parts vinegar to 1 part sugar and 1/2 ounce pickling spices. Let stand 5 days and it's ready to serve.

...I'm pretty sure that's not what happened to the smelt we pulled from the Sandy River. Seriously, I've only ever heard of frying these things up en masse before. But, no. This is pickled fish. Good for keeping large quantities of food fresh for when there aren't large quantities to be had, but... pickled chunks of uncleaned fish. A quarter of a gallon of fish chunks, and a lot of waiting around.

This is advanced stuff, folks.

Since Ms. Pugsley makes no mention of processing the pickled smelt for canning, I'm guessing that this is so darned delectable that we're to eat them all fairly quickly.

I'll leave you to it.

Vegetables: Boil Until They're Dead

I know it's not at all fashionable to say so, but I actually do like vegetables boiled until they're good and dead sometimes. Mmm, greens cooked until they're sort of green grey, and then doused with capsful of vinegar! I have been known to eat and enjoy canned green beans, right out of the can. A little mushiness on occasion is okay by me.

I come by this honestly. First off, I was a child in the 70s, and cuisine was not yet haute. Secondly, I come from my family. For your approval, one of my aunt's recipes in
Favorite Recipes from Caldwell, Idaho:

Vegetables
Robbie Busse

Green beans (fresh)
Tomatoes (fresh)
1 onion, diced
3 strips bacon
Salt

Clean beans and tomatoes; cut into bite sized pieces. Place in saucepan over medium heat. Add onion and dash of salt. Fry and crumble bacon. Add to vegetables. Let boil together until beans are tender (about 20 minutes).

Canned vegetables can be substituted for fresh.

Before we start getting all appalled at the idea of cooking green beans for 20 minutes at a boil (honestly, either cook 'em for 10 minutes, or for over 40 minutes -- half measures aren't doing you a kindness in most cases), let's embrace the surprising goodness of this recipe: Yes, it's from the 1970s, but it explicitly calls for fresh veg.

I've not been to Caldwell in decades, but when I did go out that way, I remember lots and lots of farmland outside of town. My first real exposure to asparagus was seeing it grow like a weed in irrigation ditches. So, when my aunt specifies fresh veg, you can trust that they are fresh fresh veg.

About the only ingredient I really question in this recipe is the salt. I'd think that the bacon would bring enough salt to the party, and, if it didn't, that the correct way to fix it would be to add more bacon. This surprises no one. There's always room for more bacon in my pots.

I will have to ask Aunt Robbi why this recipe isn't called "Green Beans" or "Green Beans & Tomatoes." Is it "Vegetables" because the method is to be used with any fresh (or canned) veg you have on hand? Is it "Vegetables" because that was the easiest shorthand when it came to saying "eat your vegetables"? My Idaho cousins were too young or too not born yet to be veg eaters when this cookbook came out, so...it's a bit of a mystery. I don't recall having this dish at my dad's table, nor my grandma's, so I'm guessing Aunt Robbi picked it up once she left the nest.

The Original Potato Soup; Favorite Recipes from Caldwell, Idaho, Compiled by the Caldwell Jay-C-Ettes

I'm a sentimental sort, so you can imagine what happened when I ran across my grandma's name in
Favorite Recipes from Caldwell, Idaho compiled by the Caldwell Jay-C-Ettes (Bev Ron Publishing Company, Kansas City; 1974). I got all choked up, and then saw that her name was right next to "Potato Soup." Potato soup! Our Christmas Eve tradition, right from Grandma's own recipe! What is a sentimental blogger to do? I ask you? That's right. Post it, and compare.

Potato Soup
Rowena Green, Portland, Oregon

6 large potatoes, diced
1 onion, diced
1 (12 oz.) can condensed milk
8 strips bacon, diced
1 tsp. salt
Dash pepper
Savory salt

Boil potatoes and onion with salt until tender. Fry bacon until crisp. Drain water from potatoes; add milk and bacon. Add pepper and savory salt to taste. Heat until warm, stirring often.

Let's start off with the important bit: Dad's first soup catastrophe? So not his fault! The recipe says "condensed milk"! Ladies and gentlemen, do not use (sweetened) condensed milk. Use evaporated milk. And, Daddy, no more shame.

When you drain off the water, you don't need to drain off ALL the water -- you have 6 potatoes, and need more than 2 oz. of milk for each spud's share of soup. I'm known to not drain off any water. There. I said it. For "savory salt," try Lawry's seasoned salt. If you refuse to do so, try a seasoned salt from Penzeys, or a lovely sprinkle of paprika. I really do suggest you cook your bacon first, and then cook the soup in the pan you made the bacon in. First off, that means you'll only have one pan to wash, and second off, it means you get more bacony goodness infusing your soup.

You might wonder how Grandma -- an Oregonian through and through -- had a recipe end up in a Caldwell, Idaho cookbook. Turning to the club officers page of the cookbook, we find that the State Director of the Jay-C-Ettes for 1974-75 was none other than Robbianne Busse, my aunt. I wonder how Aunt Robbi makes her soup.

Mother's Fruit Cake: Boozeless (Mostly) Fruit Cake

I love a good fruit cake. I even like a mediocre fruit cake. The fact that so many people mock fruit cake makes me sad, mostly because I really would love to start getting fruit cakes as gifts again as folks did in days of whatnot. We've already covered one fruit cake option (Brandied Fruitcake Drops) here, but Presbyterian Palate Pleasers gives us a proper, mostly-full-on recipe.

Mother's Fruit Cake

1 lb. brown sugar
6 eggs
1/2 lb. butter
1-1/2 lb. flour (6 c.)
1/2 tsp. cloves
1/2 tsp. nutmeg
3 tsp. baking powder
1/2 c. milk
1 c. wine
1 lb. currants
1 c. black walnuts
1 lb. raisins
1/2 lb. dates
1/4 lb. citron
1 lb. English Walnuts
1/4 lb. cherries
1/2 lb. figs
1/4 lb. lemon peel
1/4 lb. orange peel
1 c. flour to dredge fruit

Mix ingredients. Grease and flour one large tube pan and one 9x3" loaf pan. Fill each pan 2/3 full and bake at 275° until a toothpick inserted in center comes out clean. Serves about 25. Old recipe.

Anne Hinkle

Oh, Anne. We had such high hopes, seeing as how your churchly volunteering led you to take a bartending course. One cup of wine hardly seems properly boozy for such a lot of cake. Especially seeing as how the wine is baked with the cake, and so much of the alcohol goes away.

To fix this, I'd suggest basting the finished cake in rum, and then soaking cheesecloth in rum and wrapping the cake up with the cheesecloth and basting it every few days/weeks for a good long time.

My mother, however, prefers her fruitcake boozeless. No, really. She has many other fine qualities, I assure you.

Though the recipe doesn't specify, I'm betting all the fruit in this recipe should be dried and/or candied/glaceed. The cloves should be ground. The nuts can be swapped with other nuts if you're anti-walnut. The wine can be whatever you have -- knowing that it will lend color to the cake if you use red wine. I'd go for a sherry, or a tawny port, likely.

My favorite thing about this recipe has got to be the fact that there are two cake pans in use here. One gives you a big, pretty, take-it-to-the-church-pot-luck sort of cake. The other one is what you keep for yourself, to nibble on next to a cup of tea or a glass of sherry or port.

Savory Snacks: Bacon & Cheese Paste, and Scotch Eggs

Presbyterian Palate Pleasers's second recipe sealed the deal on this twelve-and-a-half cent purchase.

C.&.B.'s (Sandwich Filling)

1-1/2 lb. cheddar cheese
2 to 3 slices bacon (uncooked)
1 small onion
Green pepper (as desired)

Place all ingredients into a food grinder and mix well. To serve, spread on slices of party rye or English muffin and place under broiler to toast. Serve warm. Mixture may be kepet in refrigerator in a tight container for a week or two. The above amounts may be varied according to personal taste.

Marie Lockwood

It's bacon paste. Bacon & cheddar paste. You take raw bacon, and you grind it up with cheese, and you call it macaroni. (No, you don't. You call it "C & B.") Me, though, I'm calling it bacon paste.

And there's nothing at all wrong with that.

Okay, there's one thing wrong with this -- odds are, it looks like other processed cheese products one might have in one's fridge, but THIS one has raw pork fat in it. So, put a little warning on your crock of cheesy bacon paste, so that no one confuses Ms. Lockwood's masterpiece with some port wine cheese spread.

There is nothing about that recipe that wouldn't make me want to buy this cookbook. But, just turn the page, and there's another classic savory snack recipe!

Scotch Eggs

4 hard-boiled eggs, cooled and shelled.
Roll lightly in flour.
1 beaten egg with little milk for dipping in before coating.
Fine bread crumbs
8-oz. sausage meat, with herbs added, if desired.
Deep-fat or oil to fry.

Divide sausage into 4 equal parts and smooth over eggs. (Try to cover egg all around.) Coat these with egg and milk mixture and roll firmly in bread crumbs. Deep fry and drain on paper. Remember, the sausage must cook through, so don't rush the frying process. Serve hot or cold. May be cut in half or in large slices. Excellent as an appetizer or on a picnic. This recipe was received from Jenny Cannon, who is from England.

Carol Alphin

First, I must say, the typesetter left out the period after "Fine bread crumbs," not me. Diligently capturing typos makes me twitch.

Now, I love me some Scotch eggs. They remind me of Chefly Husband, who has made them for children's menus and called them "dinosaur eggs." They remind me of the Maryland Renaissance Festival, where, I swear, a day without a Scotch egg is as close to a sad day as one can have at the RennFest.

A bit of hyperbole goes a long way on a blog. The statement above is not hyperbole.

I think it's sweet that Ms. Alphin doesn't claim the recipe as her own, but rather credits a Brit. Does it add authenticity to the Scotch-ness of the recipe?

Ms. Alphin's from the great Pacific Northwest, originally -- even went to Pacific Lutheran College. I don't know what brought her out to Hagerstown, but in Hagerstown she was and in Hagerstown she is. My crazy little brain likes to make up stories to fill in the details and connections, so in that c.l.b., somehow this recipe for Scotch eggs is what inspired the RennFest to have Scotch eggs, and...

It's not at all a likely scenario. But it stars yummy, savory snacks.

PUNCH!!!! No, Seriously. Punch. With Actual Booze.

Presbyterian Palate Pleasers has a metric buttload of punches.

Well... it SAYS it does. It has shockingly few punches with any punch. Thank God the Presbyterians give us at least one punch with some booze in it.

Punch

1 qt. ginger ale
1 can Hawaiian Punch
1 box frozen strawberries
Whiskey (optional)
1 pt. orange sherbet
1 pt. pineapple sherbet

Mix all of the above ingredients, add ice cubes to make cold. Foat orange and lemon slices on top. Serves 12 to 15.

Joyce Stephens

Bless Ms. Stephens's heart, but...no.

First off, for a proper punch, the booze is not optional. I'll admit that the last time I made a punch, it was 2 gallons or more of non-alcoholic beverage, but... it lacked booze, so it wasn't a proper punch.

We of Take One Cookbook... never think that cheese is optional, that bacon is optional, or that booze is optional.

We trust you love us anyway.

Let's look at this and realize this is making 12 servings that are really, really, really small. Like, teacup size, not even coffee mug size. Certainly not Solo cup sized, and when was the last time you were at a punch-worthy occasion that called for less than Solo cup sized servings of anything?

I've never made a sherbet/HawaiianPunch/soda punch with whiskey. I tend to use cheap bubbly. Prosecco, American "champagne," whatever is less than $13 and has bubbles and booze in it.

But, really, let's again look at that size... This is not enough punch for real people. Here's how I'd do it:

4 liters ginger ale or other clear soda
2 liters of Hawaiian Punch or other fruit punch (not a can of concentrate)
1/2 gallon of rainbow sherbet
1-2 bottles inexpensive toasty/yeasty fizzy booze

Plop sherbet in large (I mean LARGE) vessel. Pour non-fizzy liquid over top. Pour non-alcoholic fizzy stuff over top. Pour fizzy booze over top. Serve.

Wendy A F G Stengel

This punch will do sans alcohol if you have a baby shower and a pregnant woman lurking. It does taste good virginized.

But the boozy bubbles make a punch.

Trust me.

Three Jell-O Salads; Presbyterian Palate Pleasers, The Presbyterian Church, Hagerstown, MD

Chefly Husband and I are headed out to Wolf Trap today to hear the Indigo Girls perform, and to hang out with friends, and to picnic, picnic, picnic. There's lots of cooking going on, and not a little bit of assembly. It's all very summery.

Yesterday, we hit St. Alban's annual sidewalk book sale. I am constitutionally unable to restrain myself at such things. There shall be cookbooks! Oh, yes. There shall. I did show some restraint -- we left with only four new-to-us cookbook treasures. One is a great single-color comb-spined church cookbook from the Presbyterian Church up in Hagerstown, MD. It cost me all of twelve and a half cents. Half a quarter. You can't beat it! So, this week, before I head out to the wilds of Taiwan for a fortnight, we'll be exploring Presbyterian Palate Pleasers. Ya can't beat that title, either.

Going through the cookbook last night with my trusty Post-it flags, I found far too many cool recipes for one week, so on some days, we're going to have multiples. Like...today! Today, you get three -- three! -- molded salads, of varying difficulty.

Cherry-Coke Salad

1-lb. jar red bing cherries
1-8-oz. can crushed pineapple
1 small pkg. orange jello
1 small pkg. cherry jello
2-6-1/2 oz. bottles Coke

Drain juice from cherries and pineapple. Add enough water to make 2 c. liquid. Heat and bring to boil, then add 2 pkgs. of jello. Stir, dissolve and let cool. Add pitted cherries and pineapple. Add Coke and mix well. Refrigerate at least 3-4 hours. Serves 8.

Floyd Bingaman

Now, I like to do a little Google stalking of people who contribute to these great old cookbooks, and I was a bit surprised to see how many Floyd Bingaman hits I got. I mean...it seemed an odd sort of name. Seems that it's a family name in Hagerstown, MD. I'm suspecting that the Cherry-Coke Salad Floyd is the father or grandpa of the unfortunate Floyd who was sentenced for a terrible crime not so very long ago. (What is it with these old cookbooks and the connections with the unsavory? The Maine islanders were all linked to stories of arson and abuse, and now child murder. :shudder:)

I didn't choose this recipe for lurid tales. No, I chose it because it reminded me of a recipe from the Jell-o (let's use the preferred brand spelling, shall we?) cookbook I had as a kid. I remember making a streamlined version of this years ago, with Coke replacing water while making cherry Jell-o. Tasty stuff, and the bubbles seemed sophisticated.

Odds are, you can actually find tiny bottles of Coke at the grocer's these days. I won't think poorly of you, though, if you use the cheaper 12 oz. can. Honest.

Bloody Mary Aspic

1-24-oz. can cocktail vegetable juice
1/3 c. vodka
1-1/2 tsp. Worcestershire sauce
Hot pepper sauce
2 envelopes unflavored gelatin
2 tsp. lemon juice
1/4 tsp. garlic salt
Salad greens

In a 1-1/2 qt. saucepan, over 1 cup cold cocktail vegetable juice, sprinkle gelatin. Cook over low heat, stirring constantly until gelatin is completely dissolved. Remove from heat; stir in remaining vegetable juice and other ingredients, including a dash of hot pepper sauce. Do not add greens. Pour into a 1 qt. mold. Refrigerate until set. To serve, unmold on salad greens. A delicious salad for luncheons and dinners. Serves 6.

Frances Machen

I ran across a chilled tomato and vodka soup recipe the other day, and yelled "Just call it a Bloody Mary In A Bowl and stop with the soup pretense!" No pretense here, though Frances does stop before calling this "big Bloody Mary Jell-o shots." She also gives the helpful advice to not gunk up the salad by putting the veg IN the salad. Trust that this sort of guidance is vital in old cookbooks. You never know what someone is going to tell you to put in there; it's nice to be told to hold something back.

It seems Ms. Machen died a year ago at age 78. She had a music store, and was known as Aunt Fran to her friends' children.

See, that's the happier kind of story I like to associate with cookbooks and Jell-o.

All in all, the Bloody Mary Aspic sounds pretty tasty. You have your V8, your Tabasco...all clean bright colors. But, where is the fearful sort of molded salad we all love to read about and fear will land on our plates? Never ever think the Presbyterians are going to let you down!

Presbyterian Jello Salad

1 can tomato soup
1 box lemon jello
1/3 c. chopped celery
1/3 c. chopped green pepper
1/3 c. chopped onions
1 c. mayonnaise
2 c. cottage cheese

Melt soup and jello together over low heat, stir constantly. Add the celery, green pepper, onions, mayonnaise and cottage cheese. Chill until firm. Serves 6.

Claudia Strite

Oh, Claudia. I suspect this serves a lot more than 6.

Claudia had a big, big heart, from an early age. This, from a 1937 slave narrative:

Henry killed a man in anger and was sent to Parchman. Friends in Pontotoc intervened when they saw Emmeline's tears. Henry was made a trusty, then transferred to Jackson as a chauffer and house-boy to Governor Earl Brewer. Henry became the especial friend of the Governor's youngest daughter, Claudia, former society editor of the Daily News, now Mrs. Samuel C. Strite, of Hagerstown, Maryland.

One day Claudia, a very young miss, stuck a note under her father's plate, 'Please set Henry free.' Governor Brewer when he left office gave Henry a pardon, and the freed negro was hired as strawboss on a delta plantation, 'but I guess he was too biggety by then,' his whitehaired mother says, 'because it wasn't long until he got into another scrape and got killed.' Henry's grave in the delta is marked by a tombstone that Claudia placed there.

Okay, I just teared up. Not ashamed to say it. Much of that tale is sad, too, but the fact that the governor of Mississippi's little daughter was concerned about Henry, and years later still cared enough to place the tombstone? It's touching. And I'm a sap.

This is what this blog is about: scary recipes, warm hearts, and a generosity of spirit that shines across the years.