I am simultaneously fascinated and horrified by my collection of cookbooks from the early to mid-twentieth century. Reading recipes for dishes like chipped beef in aspic or drinks made with clam juice, strained ketchup, and nutmeg (nope, not making that up!), I feel like I’m watching a train wreck. I know nothing good will come of it, yet I can’t look away. And chapter intros that ask “Are you doing right by your man” by adding a “soupçon of spice” to your family dinner somehow make me want to smack someone upside the head and tie on my apron at the same time.
I have long wanted to host a dinner or cocktail party featuring nothing these old-school recipes, a huge percentage of which rely on lime Jello or canned vegetables or aspic and meat assembled in a ring mold. Still, my courage fails me every time. Will I discover that “Potted Pigeons” are much tastier than I would have imagined, or will my guests blanch at the prospect of “Jellied Fish”?
Today I hosted a lunch for my mother-in-law and a few other guests before we sat down to an afternoon of bridge. It seemed like the perfect opportunity to try out some of these old recipes, especially since I have been assured by one of my books from 1938, Thoughts for Food: A Menu Aid, that “Down six hundred points won’t be nearly as serious a matter after one of these two-course meals which are guaranteed to put all in a most affable mood.”
But a trip to the farmers’ market yesterday changed the game. With all that beautiful spring asparagus and tender baby Tuscan kale spread out before me, there was no way I could justify making a meal out of boiled mackerel and canned lima beans. So in the end I decided to make asparagus tips with a roasted garlic aioli, risotto with shiitakes and dried porcini (foraged by my mycologist friend), and a kale salad dusted with grated ricotta salata.
Still trying to capture something of the original spirit of my idea, I decided that for dessert I would make a recipe that I recently came across in my grandmother-in-law’s recipe box from around 1930.
Here’s the recipe, as it’s tidily typed on an index card in her box.
Molasses Drop Cookies
1/2 cup fat [I used butter]
1 cup sugar
1 egg
3 1/4 cups flour
1/2 teaspoon soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon cloves
1/2 cup sour milk [I used low-fat buttermilk]
1 cup molasses
1/2 cup raisins
1. Cream fat and sugar thoroughly; add beaten egg.
2. Add sifted dry ingredients alternating with milk and molasses; add raisins.
3. Drop from teaspoon 3 inches apart on greased tin [I used parchment paper instead of greasing my baking sheet.]
4. Bake in a moderate oven.
Temperature: 375°F. Time: 12 to 15 minutes.
Once I gathered together the ingredients …
Everything came together in a jiffy.
Of course, I suspect grandma used a wooden spoon rather than a KitchenAid stand mixer, but there’s no reason to be a Luddite about baking, is there?
The result? Delicious molasses-scented treats that are soft and cakelike, almost more like gingerbread than a cookie.
All in all, they were just right for an afternoon of bridge, even if I did skip one book’s suggestion to precede dessert with a “a gelatin ring salad of vegetables or fruit and small finger sandwiches.” I’m still working up the nerve for that menu.
thanks, grandma, they were delicious!
Copied and pasted this into my recipe file.
Now that I have my fancy (unsigned by the author..hint hint) Hostess diary, I have been inspired to use it. I often hear of your parties and say I should have guest’s over more often..just don’t do it. Lately, I have… as a spur of the moment thing cooked dinner and invited the neighbors over to join since I still cook for at least 4. Here’s to using the diary! Cheers and bon appetite!
Yay! I’m so glad you’re having people over more often, and I hope you’re discovering that it really doesn’t have to be difficult. It never even occurred to me that I should sign the book. I’ll be happy to do it the next time I’m in Houston. It’ll give us an excuse to get together for 99-cent margaritas.
Finally made the cookies, YUM, most of them packed up and on their way to Auburn for a college treat.