I returned from a run the other day to find my lovely older friend Cam slowly turning her car around in my driveway. “I just dropped off some old recipes. I thought you might enjoy them. Or you could just throw them in the ash can if you like. There’s more where those came from if you want them!” she promised as she drove away.
Shared recipes. Old, old family recipes. What a treasure trove of history! I couldn’t wait to dig into them. Some had helpful notes scribbled on them. One even had “very bad recipe” scrawled on it, and yet it had been saved with the others to live on in Cam’s recipe files.
A lot of the recipes were clipped from magazines and newspapers, pre-World War II, through the war, and postwar. Ads for King Vidor-directed movies are interspersed with helpful hints for food rationing. There were many saved recipes for barbecues, cocktail parties, and fun with hamburgers. After all, Cam raised four fine young men and had a husband working at the ammunitions depot all those years.
That is the beauty of cooking. As an art form, a recipe can live on for generations, be reinterpreted and enjoyed for decades. Some of the names on the recipes are so old-fashioned they are almost obsolete: Myrna, Edaline, Clementine, Avice, Glenna.
Some of the dishes are humorously old-fashioned too. “Have a Chuck Wagon Party!” “Wing Ding Wieners!” “Cracker Crisp Salad!” And who the heck would attempt a lobster thermidor nowadays (served in a deviled noodle ring with lima beans)? I would!
My personal collection of recipes is my most valued possession. I frequently used to remind my (starter) husband that if the house caught on fire, forget the family photo albums and my stash of jewelry, save my recipe files! Foolish? Sentimental? Maybe. But I know that my cooking and my years of culling recipes have brought friends and family and lovers more pleasure than looking at a baby picture or a pretty bracelet.
When cooking an old favorite family dish, it is fun to imagine conversations that may have taken place at the dinner table, over the same corn pudding 50 years ago. My grandma loved to cook and my grandparents had some pretty cool, interesting friends. I have in my stash Lillian Hellman’s recipe for Indian pudding. Did they all enjoy this one fall evening in New York City with Dashiell Hammett expounding on socialism?
Where did they first try Pauline Hemingway’s stuffed peppers? Cuba? Key West? Did Ernest discuss his work on the documentary “The Spanish Earth” over these delicious rice and lamb-filled peppers? More important, were they served with a fresh tomato sauce?
I like to picture Cam and her family enjoying all of her recipes, stretching their dollar, making do, happy to be safe and sound after the war, and about to dig into a homemade lemon meringue pie. It’s also nice to imagine my own son with a family someday, laying out a spread of his old mom’s tried-and-true recipes for spicy barbecued bluefish, maybe some mango curried cole slaw and Key lime pie.
Thank you for the recipes, dearest Cam. I can assure you they will not be tossed into the “ash can.” They will live on in the kitchen and at the table for generations to come. Except maybe for the one marked “very bad recipe.”
Fluffy Lemon Dessert
This recipe is, yes, from Cam’s collection. It’s very retro. The description (from Better Homes and Gardens, July 1956) describes it as “so delicate and light — tops for summertime refreshment!” Serves nine.
1 envelope (1 Tbsp.) unflavored gelatin
1/2 cup cold water
3 slightly beaten egg yolks
1/2 cup sugar
1/2 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. grated lemon peel
1/2 cup lemon juice
1 cup marshmallow creme
3 egg whites
1/4 cup sugar
Soften gelatin in cold water. In top of double boiler (remember those?) combine egg yolks, one-half cup of sugar, salt, lemon peel, and juice. Cook over simmering water, whisking constantly until thick. Remove from heat, add gelatin mixture, stir until dissolved. Add marshmallow creme, cool.
Beat egg whites till soft peaks form and gradually add one-quarter cup sugar, beating until stiff peaks form. Fold into the gelatin mixture. Pour into an 8-by-8-by-2-inch pan and chill until firm.
To serve, top with sweetened whipped cream and sprinkle with chopped nuts. Cut into squares.
