Cook Book Presented by The Fishwives of Charleston Oregon; Good Cake

When I was a very small creature, my family moved to Coos Bay, Oregon. My dad was a forester for the state, my mom was raising my sister and I. We lived on a slough. We had a really dumb dog, an Irish setter named Millicoma (after the river & forest in southern Oregon) (and, no, it is nothing like "melanoma") who would eat dying fish out of the slough. There was a bramble patch, and I would hack at it with a hoe while making up songs in the grey gloomy happiness of youth. We left Coos Bay for more temperate climes when I was just a smidge over three years old, so my memories are piecemeal, fragmented, and not to be trusted. Aren't all our childhood memories?

When I was home in Oregon a few years back, my mother gave me her copy of
Cook Book Presented by The Fishwives of Charleston Oregon, published by the Commercial Fishermen's Wives Association of the Port of Coos Bay in 1972. Mom came by her copy in '73, a gift from a friend at St. Monica's. I remember looking through the book and loving the hand-drawn ads, and the drawings of all the fishing boats comprising Charleston's fleet.

What I didn't remember or know was just how much this cookbook guided my meals growing up. So many recipes that I think of as "our" recipes, "family" recipes are all from the fishwives. That being said, there's no way I'll ever limit myself to a mere seven recipes from this book. My love for it seemed a good way to kick this blog back into gear.

Good Cake

1/2 c. McKay's margarine
1 c. sugar
1 1/2 c. McKay's flour
2 tsp. baking powder
2 eggs or whites of 4
Flavor to suit yourself
GREAT GRANDMOTHERS

Mix well, bake at 350 till done. This recipe comes from an old old cook book. I double the recipe and then make 3 9-inch layers, very good frosted with 7 minute icing topped with coconut.

--Pat Loomis

McKay's is still open, so if you find yourself in Coos Bay, and you want to bake a cake, by all means, use the specified brand. Otherwise, embrace the fact that McKay's was a big advertiser in the cookbook, and so you can probably substitute your favorite brands in good health.

I'm not at all sure why "GREAT GRANDMOTHERS" are a part of the recipe, or, at least, why it's in the recipe where it is. "Great Grandmother's Good Cake" would make a good title, and is probably what this receipt is really about.

For the flavor, you could go basic vanilla, or (if you're using coconut) how about some rum?

I know you're shocked; I'm suggesting booze.

I do not think I ever ate "Good Cake." See, there's a little hand-written note at the end of the recipe...

Bake 30 min--It falls if oven door is opened. Not to good. JB

"JB" is the woman who gave Momma this cookbook. All spelling is hers.

As we explore Fishwives of Charleston, I'll post some of the (really quite cool) art work. This cookbook was a labor of love, and feels very different from the more formulaic fundraiser cookbooks you find at jumble sales. There's a sense of time, a sense of the authors, and boy golly, a sense of place.

So. Many. Fish. Recipes.

But that can wait until tomorrow.

A Chicken In Every Pot: How To Roast A Chicken

One of the first things my parents taught me to do in the kitchen was roast a chicken. One of the first things I learned that everyone did a little differently from her neighbor is roast a chicken. It was a revelation, figuring out that not everyone took a little metal-handled brush and brushed vegetable oil over the skin, sprinkled it all over with seasoned salt, and roasted the bird in a 9x13 pan in a 350° oven. And now I find my sister doesn't even do it that way (she uses Pam instead of veggie oil). It seems entirely appropriate, then, that Depression Era Recipes has two roast chicken recipes back to back.

How to Roast a Chicken

Remove any bits from inside dressed bird. Singe and remove pinfeathers. Wash under faucet. Dry inside and out. Stuff with a light hand with dressing of your choice. Turn wings across back, sew through wings and body with poultry needle and fine twine. Tie firmly, leaving long ends. Press thighs close to body and sew through; wrap twine around lower part of body and tie. Sew through ends of legs and tie close together. Sew once or twice through body opening if ragged. Rub with soft butter. season well with salt and pepper. Mix about 1/2 c. butter and 1/2 c. water in a pan and keep hot for basting. Put bird on a rack in a roasting pan. Sear in a hot oven till browned, then reduce heat to moderate and bake until done, basting often. Make gravy from pan drippings.

Golly, that sounds far too involved for a simple roast chicken. It's like a sewing lesson before dinner. I think this is a good time to say that I'm glad that I live in a time when I don't need to singe and remove pinfeathers off my chicken before I can prepare it. Let's see if the next one is any less... fussy.

How to Roast a Chicken Easier

Wash bird and cut into quarters, or leave whole. Put it in a roasting pan or skillet. Add 1/2 c. water. Bake at 325 degrees for 1 1/2 hours. Plain and simple and it turns out pretty good, too.

Well, that's certainly easier. It says so right in the title! But there's no seasoning going on, I think the addition of butter or oil, salt, and pepper at a minimum will make this less ... like a college student trying to impress someone by cooking a chicken without bothering to take out the giblets or the like.

My standard roast chicken these days goes along these lines: Smash several cloves of garlic and zest a lemon. Smear together with half a stick of butter, and then massage the garlic lemon butter under the skin of your bird. Cut the zested lemons in half and shove them in the de-giblet-ed cavity, along with the rest of the head of garlic. Put in a 9x13 pan (untrussed!), in a 375°F oven, and cook until internal temperature is 160°F.

Less Scary Than Yesterday: Apple Cottage Pudding

Seems no one is interested in a good liver bologna recipe; Feedburner tells me the item was only used 4 times (as opposed to 40 or more for most posts on the first day). So, let's go for something a little less scary than yesterday, shall we? From
Depression Era Recipes:

Apple Cottage Pudding

6 to 10 apples
1/2 c. milk
1 T. butter, melted
1 c. flour
1/2 c. sugar
1 t. Royal baking powder
1 t. vanilla

Peel, core and slice apples thin. Put apples in a buttered tin. Mix together milk, butter, flour, sugar, baking powder and vanilla. Pour batter over apples and bake in a moderate oven till done, about 45 minutes. Serve with cream or lemon sauce. This is good with other fruits, too.

So, what is a "moderate oven"? Let's turn to the Web to find out! Best Recipes tells us "a 'moderate' oven has a temperature of around 180 degrees Celsius, or approximately 350 degrees Fahrenheit." So, 350°F -- the universal, if-you-don't-know-what-temp-use-this-temp temperature! Easy enough.

This sort of sounds like an eggless clafouti to me. Other than apples, it doesn't take much of any one ingredient, and the leavening is shelf-stable. So, not quite pantry baking, but close.

Though normally I like to substitute like-texture for like-texture (and I'm sure this would be lovely with pears), I would like to see this done with plums or Italian prunes. The color would be amazing.

The lack of specificity in tin size could make me cranky on a bad day, but on other days I say, "just use a tin big enough to hold 6 to 10 peeled, cored, sliced apples."

It should work fine.

Better Than Jerky?: Gillan's Liver Bologna

This bologna, from Depression Era Recipes, actually has a first name.

Gillan's Liver Bologna

3 lbs. liver
8 lbs. potatoes, sliced
1/4 slab bacon
1/4 c. salt
2 1/2 c. graham flour
1/2 c. buttermilk
2 1/4 c. white flour

Make bags out of flour sacks. This recipe will fit into four 6 x 12" bags. Grind liver and potatoes, using a medium blade. Cut bacon into little pieces. Mix meats, potatoes and other ingredients in a very large bowl. When evenly combined, pack mixture into damp bags. Tie shut. Boil bags in water to cover, for two hours. Remove from water and cool. Store in refrigerator. To use, cut bag off meat, slice meat and serve.

This may have been one of the first take-along "mountain foods." Some deer hunters would take this out in the woods with them for food, as it was a complete meal - better than beef jerky!

Okay, it's true: Gillan might be a last name. And I am skeptical of anything that claims to be better than jerky of any sort.

At the same time, I appreciate the idea of homemakers also being sausage makers. I've never done more than a loose patty sausage on my own, but my dad's deer and elk hunting always yielded lots of summer sausage.

...God, I miss that summer sausage. Sliced, or cut into chunks, served with Tillamook medium cheddar and saltines. Maybe, just maybe, some Beaver brand mustard. We'd go through a whole sleeve of crackers in a blink. I ate the casing about 50% of the time.

The bologna of my childhood had both a first and last name. It was commercial, it was mass produced, it was... bologna. After my college graduation, my mom, aunt, and I hit the roads of the mid-Atlantic, and found ourselves at Seltzer's Lebanon Bologna. Such delicious yumminess! So much more interesting than that mass-produced blandness! We sampled with joy, and bought a bunch for later. 20 minutes down the road, we all discovered that, sadly, Lebanon bologna triggers migraines in our family. (It really is sad -- that stuff is damned tasty.)

A Frugal Tipple: Blackberry Wine

When Depression looms, the prudent householder cuts back on frivolities. This does not, however, mean going without life's little necessities. You know, like booze. Depression Era Recipes gives several recipes for frugal tipples, including this one that seems a bit oddly placed, coming the day after Michaelmas.

Blackberry Wine

1 gal. black berries
1 qt. boiling water
2 lbs. sugar

Bruise berries, add boiling water. Let stand 24 hours, stirring occasionally. Strain off the liquor and put into a cask. Add sugar; cork tight and let stand till next October, when it will be ready for use. It may be bottled.

So, assuming you picked your berries before the Devil spit on them yesterday, this is a great way to use 'em up!

In my family, berries tend to end up more than a little boozy on a regular basis. We don't have the patience to wait a full year for the results, though. Instead, we put clean berries in sterile jars, and cover them with vodka or some other strong spirit, and let 'em marinate for several weeks. Strain and add simple syrup to taste. Mmmmm.

Favorite uses for blackberry wine: mixing with less than stellar merlot. Yes, really. Also great mixed with mead.

Folksy Wisdom; Pie Crust

Depression Era Recipes doesn't limit itself to recipes. No, it also faithfully reprints advertisements and folksy wisdom pieces of the day, including this one that frankly reminds me of my kooky grandma.

Her Ten Commandments

These are the new commandments ten
Which wives now make for married men

I. Remember that I am thy wife,
Whom thou must cherish all thy life.
II. Thou shalt not stay out late at night
When lodges, friends or clubs invite.
III. Thou shalt not smoke indoor or out,
Or chew tobacco round about.
IV. Thou shalt with praise receive my pies,
Nor pastry made by me despise.
V. My mother thou shalt strive to please,
And let her live with us in ease.
VI. Remember 'tis thy duty clear
To dress me well throughout the year.
VII. Thou shalt not be a drinking man,
But live on prohibition plan.
VIII. Thou shalt in manner mild and meek
Give me thy wages every week.
IX. Thou shalt not flirt, but must allow
Thy wife such freedom anyhow.
X. Thou shalt get up when baby cries,
And try the child to tranquilize.

These my commands from day to day
Implicitly thou shalt obey.

These Commandments are from Grandma Signe's recipe book

...so much one could say about that. I'm going to focus on Commandment IV. If anyone ever receives pie from me with anything other than praise? Badness will occur! Harsh thoughts and feelings! No more pie for that person ever!!! And who would ever despise my pastry?

But, let's face it: lots of people get freaked out at the thought of making a pie from scratch. Most of the hangups come from the crust making. Lucky for us, Depression Era Recipes has several foolproof pie crust options for us all. Let's take the first one, conveniently on the same page as Her Ten Commandments.

Pie Crust

4 T. boiling water
4 T. lard
1 1/4 cup flour
1 t. baking powder
Pinch of salt

Melt lard in hot water. Mix together the flour, baking powder and salt and stir this into the liquid. Place in the ice box until cold. Roll out thin and line tin.

I know, I know. Lard. There, I said it. Use lard. I said it again. (Heck, turn the page, and Depression Era Recipes will tell you how to render your own...)

What I like about this recipe (besides the unapologetic use of lard) is the method. Melting the fat, instead of trying to keep it cold! No cutting the cold fat into the flour, and trying to figure out when the globs are pea-sized! No food processor! No vinegar! No admonitions to chill your rolling pin, chill your board, chill your spoons, chill your forks, chill your everything. It seems so darned easy!

I have no clue how well it works. I'm intrigued.

Sketchy Salads of Yore: Harlequin Salad

Not all sketchy salads of yore involve gelatin and molds. Exhibit A: This entry from Depression Era Recipes:

Harlequin Salad

1 c. red cabbage
1 c. reg. cabbage
1 c. peas
1/2 c. beets
1 onion, diced
1/2 c. carrot, diced
Salt & pepper
French dressing

Shave cabbage thin. Cook peas, beets and carrots till tender; drain and chill. Mix all vegetables, or arrange them in layers or heaps. The effect is better if they are mixed and they are also easier to season and to arrange. Pour on French dressing an hour before serving, keep cold. Pass more French dressing at the table.

It's Best Guess Translation Time! "Reg. cabbage" has got to be green cabbage, so that we can get a harlequin effect between red and green vegetables. "French dressing," as in Casserole Cookery, means a vinaigrette. I'd also make sure that you cook your veg separately; otherwise, your carrots and peas are going to be beet red, quite literally.

I don't think the "heaps" approach sounds very appealing, but layers might work. I suspect that tossing the salad would make the greens turn red, what with the cabbage and the beets all mingled in.

This is another one of those recipes where every single ingredient that goes into it sounds good, but the overall effect just sounds a little hinky.

Depression Era Recipes, by Patricia R. Wagner: Dumplings

Some books never seem to go out of print. Depression Era Recipes, by Patricia R. Wagner, was first printed in 1989, and was on its eighteenth printing by 2000. Chefly Husband picked up a copy for me at a book sale recently, because he's nearly as much of a cookbook freak as I am. Nearly. And, with all the turmoil in the financial sector these days, and frantic rhetoric, I thought a focus on the Depression suitable for this week. I like this bit from the acknowledgements:

The Depression wasn't all soup lines and poverty. The information related herein is intended to show how people coped with the Depression, their diversions and what life was all about, what they had and how they spent their leisure time. Not all of these recipes have been personally tested by the author. But if they were good enough for Gramma Signe, Aunt Minnie and Mom, they're good enough for us.

So, some of these recipes might just not work. Or they might be a little too 1930s for today's tastes. That's part of the adventure!

On an administrative note, I'm tagging these all as 1930s recipes, even though the book was printed 50 years later. It makes sense to me.

The gingerbread recipe made me miss home, and especially miss a lovely lady who was a family friend for years before she died. She took me to a gingerbread restaurant for my first slabs of cake-like gingerbread, and she also took me to experience my first-ever chicken and dumplings.

Dumplings

2 c. flour
1 t. salt
1 1/2 c. chicken broth, boiling
1/2 c. flour
1-2 qts. chicken broth

Mix together well to make a soft dough. Put the 1/2 c. flour on a bread broad; put dough on top. Let cool enough to handle. Then roll like pie crust. Cut in 1" x 2" strips. Let these dry 15 minutes. Drop into boiling chicken broth and simmer for 15-20 minutes.

Let's fix some of the problems with this recipe. First off, the bread "broad" is clearly supposed to be a bread board. Next, if you try to mix everything together in the first step, you're going to be in a world of hurt. So, mix together, please, the first three ingredients. Then, roll out, using the 1/2 c. remaining flour to coat board, rolling pin, etc., to make easy to handle. Roll and cut as above. Finally, heat the 1 - 2 quarts broth to a boil, and add the dumplings.

So, why dumplings? Well, if you're trying to make a bit of meat stretch a long way, this is a great way to get the flavor of chicken into a less-expensive vehicle. If, say, you needed to keep a laboring man strong for work, he could eat the actual chicken, while the wife and kids had dumplings.

There's no leavening used in these bad boys, which I could go on and on discussing various religious reasons why this might make the recipe ideal for whatever, but here's why I dig the leavening-less nature of the recipe: I never end up with good leavening in the house. If I need soda or powder or yeast, I have to go out to shop. Everything needed for these dumplings, I have in my pantry right now, even though I haven't done maintenance shopping in a few weeks.

If anyone's interested in a Depression-era recipe for chicken broth, let me know; the book has several, most involving carcasses, skin, giblets, and the like. Frugality, folks. It's what's for dinner this week.