Photo is a typical Robin Hood Float that was in every local parade– this one was in Delta 1937)
Pass the Ambrosia! Memories of Cookbooks Linda Knight Seccaspina
Years ago before I went to California I had 100’s of cookbooks. My favourites were the church cookbooks from the local rummage sales and I have given away a lot–but today I still have about a 100 left.
Remember the well worn coil- bound cookbooks put out by Canadian companies? I still have well-used copies of Robin Hood, Maple Leaf and Red Rose which are probably museum items now. These little books are full of things our grandmothers used to make, such as dinner rolls, pickles, jams, jellies, and the beloved tomato aspic.
By today’s standards some of the ingredients are not for healthy eating: canned soup, shortening, MSG and lots and lots of mayonnaise. But these books were especially big on baking and contained classic recipes for breads, cookies, squares, cakes, and especially pies. This is perhaps where their timelessness shines through for everyone.
The recipes from my vintage cookbooks are from times I still remember, and in the 50’s my mother used to make Tuna Pinwheels and Canned Devilled Ham Canapes for her canasta parties. Bernice Ethylene Crittenden Knight was a stickler for an attractive food presentation, and she also made something called Congealed Salad for holiday meals. A combination of Orange Jello, Cool Whip, crushed pineapple, and wait for it, shredded cheese. I think my Dad called it “Sawdust Salad” and I seriously tried to remain clueless as to why.
I’m sure everyone has a family member that says they’ll bring a “salad” to a family dinner, but then they bring some Jello concoction they found in one of their cookbooks. Bonus points if it has marshmallows in it like the amazing Ambrosia Salad. Actually, I feel more justified in calling anything a salad if I dump leftover taco beef and salsa onto a little lettuce topped with shredded cheese.
There are many loving memories of my grandmother baking on Saturdays. The old beige crock which held the flour under the cupboards — a hint of yeast — and the mixture of sweat pouring from her forehead. This mixture was placed in loaf pans, and if the day was bright the bread was set out in the sun to rise, otherwise the pans were placed near the big black wood stove which made the room toasty and cozy.
After the dough had risen to twice its size it was quickly placed in the oven. Making bread was only the beginning of the baking day– cakes, pies and cookies followed. There might be homemade applesauce for supper, toast for breakfast, bread pudding and the other delicious dishes which came from my grandmother’s magical kingdom. It was always homemade with love. That meant that I had sneaked the spoon out of the mixture and licked it and no one was the wiser when it was used again.
The steamed brown bread baked in a can was certainly one of Grammy’s few baking tragedies. It was so horrible my Dad took my Grandmother’s failed recipe target shooting at the Cowansville dump. I would like to think that some of those rats got to feast on one of those brown breads. Of course, maybe after sampling it, they might have wanted to be put out of their misery.
The best is all those hundreds of recipes lovingly collected, saved from the newspapers or magazines, with notes written on the side. Finally assembled into cookbooks, the secrets were still not there. I remember writing down some of my Grandmother’s recipes and next time we made it she had changed the amount of pinches and methods on her recipes.
Despite living in a healthy society, or trying to, cookbooks seem to remain every bit as popular as romance novels and mysteries. Nostalgia triggers a story about our lives, helping us reflect on traditions and moments about the days when our parents and grandparents were alive. That’s why we should never lose print recipes, and real paper-based cookbooks.
Those mystery meat recipes, and foods that were the same colour as rainbow radiation will always resonate with us. That’s because we get to see and relive the gravy stained favourites, and the memories of family. If reading about cookbooks has you craving a big slice of cake, you’re not alone. I was always told if you can read you can cook. I can attest that my cooking is so fabulous that even the smoke alarm cheers me along from time to time.
In a 2013 op-ed for The Baptist News, Dallas-based pastor Mark Wingfield recalled a disappointing post-funeral feast: “There was no green bean casserole, no fried chicken, no homemade rolls, no chocolate cake. Finally, someone in the family drove over to KFC to bring home the kind of food we all needed in the moment. And did I mention there wasn’t even a single piece of chocolate cake brought to the house?” “Is it wrong of me to think of chocolate cake as heaven-sent?” Not when it brings comfort at a funeral.
A funeral cake is served during the reception held after the service. While some areas have a traditional recipe, others now look to fancy, decorated options that honour their deceased loved one. There were funeral cakes once just as we still have wedding cakes. These funeral cakes were the result of mourners coming from long distances A large cake would be baked, generally with the initials of the departecd iced on the top, cut into slices and served to the mourners, who did then as we now do with the pieces of wedding cake preserved them for a long time, as souvenirs of the occasion. Funeral cakes are still in vogue at funerals in rural England.
The cakes were decorated with symbolic patterns. Molds carved from wood or sometimes made of iron or stone were used to stamp decorative impressions on the cakes before baking Weaver has several molds including one of marble carved by a gravestone-maker from Schenectady NY Weaver said the Hudson Valley was also a centre for the carving of wooden molds from apple or beech wood. “The rose and the heart were the most common designs” he said “The rooster symbolizing resurrection was also used as was the fish for Christ and the dove Designs used on gravestones frequently show up The three plumes that decorate a hearse and the Masonic symbol were some others” Among the Pennsylvania Dutch raisin pie was usually served after a funeral often brought by mourners as a gift to the family of the deceased a tradition imported from Germany– also read How Heavenly Funeral Potatoes Got Their Name
“Uninvited but unobserved, the mourners, partaken of the funeral cake and funeral wine. Being Invested with the conventional black kid gloves, hatband and scarf, and so arrayed had been ushered into a mourning coach, and had followed to the grave the mortal remains of some fellow-creature whom he did not know from the man in the moon”.
When you were raised in the 1940’s and it war wartime, there were things you learned that you could not change as it was the just the way it was
I lived on a street in Eastview Ontario (now part of Ottawa) on a quiet little street. Across the street was a field and the railway tracks were on the other side of that. There were eight families on this street. As kids we all played together and you soon learned who was in charge and sort of in charge of street games like Red Rover and Hide and Seek. We also played baseball in the Summer and Hockey in the winter on the street. You would see little traffic on the street as some of the men were away fighting in the war or you just did not have a car.
For your baseball game you picked out various articles as your bases, for example the old fire hydrant was third base, a stone on the street was 2nd base, a tree on the side of the road was first. This worked well as there was little to worry about, for they were just there. Grandpa did offer to make us bases but no one wanted the responsibility of picking up the bases when the game was over. For Hockey in Winter time your puck was mostly the droppings from the bread man or the milk man’s horse. One soon learned you wanted colder weather as the pucks stayed frozen in the cold, and that was important, after all no one wanted to be sprayed with horse droppings.
Out of eight families, three Dad’s were in the Army and away at war in Europe, my Dad was not accepted to the armed forces and my Grandpa was to old to join the army, although some of his sons, my Uncles, did go to war. Thank Goodness for Grandpas as he repaired all broken things and did give advice or correct if needed. He was kind of the one you went to if you needed some advice.
On our street money was not always to plentiful and we soon learned that our families did rely on each other for items and Mom might just run out when making a meal. You were never embarrassed to go to your friend’s mother for an item your Mom might need for a recipe. In fact there were times when my Mom would make a desert for all, and the next door neighbour would have the makings of a lunch, so the name of the game was sharing your goods. By the end of the war they were expert at pooling their resources, and no one ever went hungry and there were leftovers that could be the starter for the next meal.
During the war time there were Ration Books which dictated what was available to you and your allotment. Now living on a street where one family kind of overlooked looking after one another, and sharing was most prevalent. We had no car so the gasoline coupons were up grab, and trading was the name of the game, part of the bartering system.
It seems to me the war effort was in force and knitting needles were always handy to make something to send to a loved one overseas. I was taught knitting at a young age and soon was making scarves to send to the Red Cross., to go overseas.
School time was a good time and one did not think of things like war, or whose Dad was away. We participated in school activities and our learning. I cannot say that I ever hesitated going to school as I did enjoy the teachers the social time with friends. We lived close enough that we walked to school with our friends who lived on the same street and it was always enjoyable to be able to wave to our neighbours who lived on adjoining streets on the way to school. In so many ways I do think the older folk did enjoy the children and their laughter, not really a care in the world. The funniest thing was you might be eating an apple on you way back to school from lunch and it was nothing for one of your neighbours to say, now don’t throw that core on the street, make sure you put it in the garbage. As children we did not take exception to this friendly reminder.
Things seemed to be more friendly and people did help and look after each other. It was close to Halloween and there was going to be a get together and a party. As a child I was used to my Mom making fudge for special occasions at school. Well when we all arrived home from school, the Mothers were talking at the front door. I have to admit adults were so smart and in tune to the season and what was happening. Well noisy children coming home announcing was not new to these Moms, Mom we need some fudge for the party. With the ration books and the allotment of sugar, this I can remember being told “I don’t know if we have enough coupons for sugar”, we had the attention of all three Mom’s and there was Grandma and my Mom’s Aunt, and friend Joan, had a grandmother who lived on the street as well. In order for the kids to get their treat for the party, they had to round up coupons from who we could. We pooled our resources and we were just a tad bit short to make enough for three families. My older friend and neighbour up the street, Mrs. Pauquette, I could ask her. I sometimes dusted for her if I was saving for something I wanted. Up the street I went and sure enough she had some extra coupons as they were older and had no children and did not use the same amount as a family with children.
I have to say the next day when we came home for lunch, the fudge had been made, cut into squares and divided into three boxes. We all had our contribution to the party, thanks to the co-operation of family, friends and neighbours. We were all set until Christmas now, that is when the next school celebration would take place.
For some this was not good memories, but the comradeship with your neighbours and family certainly did help. As we take time out to remember on November the 11th, just remember those who did not return.
This recipe makes about 5 pounds of decadent fudge.
1 tall can (11 oz) Carnation Evaporated Milk
4 1/2 cup white sugar
18 oz Nestles or Ghiradelli semisweet chocolate chips (three small bags)
1/2 pound butter
3 tablespoons vanilla
Nuts, if desired (we’ve added crushed up candy canes on top of the fudge, stuff like that is tasty too!).
Put chocolate chips, butter and vanilla in large mixing bowl, set aside.
Bring milk and sugar to a rolling boil on medium heat in a large pan, stirring occasionally. When it reaches a rolling boil, time it for 6 1/2 minutes, stirring constantly.
Note: Amy suggested a temperature of 248F/120C on a candy thermometer but I needed to cook the fudge for double the time to get it there. Instead, I stopped cooking when flecks of caramelization started showing in the milk–about ten minutes, 225F. I wonder if the difference in altitude between her place and mine is a factor?
Pour the milk and sugar syrup mixture over the contents of the mixing bowl. Stir constantly until butter is completely melted, and the fudge is smooth and isn’t shiny. Add nuts if desired.
A 9×12 baking dish will hold the whole batch (either butter the dish or line with parchment paper first). Or, pour into smaller containers to share.
Jaan Kolk It’s difficult to believe butter tarts were invented in Barrie, Ont. in 1900. The claim is actually “first printed butter tart recipe”, based on Mrs. Malcolm MacLeod’s small submission to a cookbook published to raise funds for Barrie’s Royal Victoria Hospital.
977-08 Opening of the Royal Victoria Hospital, 1897, Copyright: Public Domain
None of the other recipes claim to be original, and it’s difficult to believe no one in the world ever made a simple tart filling consisting mostly of sugar and butter before. Here’s what was in the cookbook:
Jaan was right—–While butter tarts are known around the world as the quintessential Canadian dish, the invention of this confection actually goes back to before Canada was even a country. During a ten-year period, from 1663 to 1673, at least 770 young women were sent to Quebec by Louis XIV to help with colonization. These single ladies were sent with dowries to help boost settlement in New France, meaning they were going to marry, then cook, clean and procreate (the baby boom after this immigration was bigger than post-WWII). These King’s Daughters (or Filles du Roi) as they came to be known did what any resourceful baker would do: they made do with what they had. With the abundance of new food they created the butter tart forerunner with baking ingredients readily available like maple sugar and dried fruit. This ancestral tart later led to variations like tarte au sucre and the butter tart.
Jaan Kolk It would be quite a task to scour old cookbooks for a similar recipe, but it’s easy to search newspaper archives for the term “butter tart” (a term not even used in the Barrie cookbook.) Here’s what I found:
1889-1891, several US newspapers published “The Uncle from America” from a French work “The French Epoch.” Uncle Bruno had returned from America and was coming to see his family at his birthplace, near Dieppe. All were keen to impress the uncle. The description of the spread which had been prepared ended with “…and a butter-tart completed the bill of fare which made the children exclaim with delight.”
January 31, 1899, a “cheering, clean, and cheap” Montreal eatery advertised in the Gazette a 10-cent meal which could include butter tarts.
Jaan is right on this too. Throughout the early 1900s butter tarts gained popularity and variations were published in Toronto’s Daily News and included in the 1911 Canadian Farm Cook Book. Butter tarts became all the rage in the 1920s and 1930s, and by the 1980s readers were desperately writing The Vancouver Sun’s fictional baking expert, Edith Adams, for a copy of her recipe.
he Queen of Tarts from 1931. Photo, Chatelaine.
Jaan KolkLinda, I had come across recipes for lemon butter and apple butter for tarts and pies from the 19th century, but considered them somewhat far from the filling in butter tarts. Pecan pie, I think, is closer.
Working for a logging camp one might come across something unusual in the thick forests. One day working in the Gilmour camp near Maniwaki they came upon a camp of 15 Natives all worse from wear from liquor.
They insisted the white men stay for dinner and when the group of men declined the natives grew angry. Rather than see their sentiments grow deeper they decided to stay for dinner. A large pot hung over the campfire and smelled of meat stew. The men soon found out it was Beaver stew, which they were eager to try.
When the Beaver was served the men found out that the meat was good eating, but carelessly prepared. Chunks of fur was still attached and one of them got served a Beaver leg still with the claws on it. Needless to say they had to act with great finesse not to irritate their dinner hosts who ate the Beaver stew hair and all.
The story ends that then men were might thankful to get away from the drunken dinner party without the Natives attacking them. Gossip says it was 3 to 1.
BEAVER STEW RECIPE
2-3 lbs 1 inch cubes beaver
Bacon grease
2 cups flour
1 tsp salt
1 tsp pepper
2 medium onions
1/2 lb carrots
6 medium potatoes
2 stalks celery
DIRECTIONS:
Combine flour, salt and pepper in a closable bag or 2 quart closable plastic container and shake until mixed. Add beaver and shake until well coated.
Dice onions. Melt enough bacon grease in the bottom of a fry pan to sauté onions and beaver. Sauté onions and floured beaver in bacon grease, adding more grease as needed. Place sautéed cubes and onions in a 4 quart pot with enough water to cover. Add water to fry pan to remove the remainder of the bacon grease and flour. Add this pan gravy to your stew.
Slice carrots and dice celery. Add carrots and celery to your stew and simmer until beaver is somewhat tender (about 30 minutes). Taste broth and add salt or pepper to taste. Cut potatoes into 1 inch cubes and add enough water to just cover the meat and vegetables. Simmer until potatoes are done (about 30 minutes)
Pease pudding in the pot, nine days old. Some like it hot, some like it cold, … The dish probably started out as pease porridge, but after the pudding cloth was invented, it became a pudding, often eaten with salt pork. Puddings, in those days, were not the creamy thickened desserts which we call pudding today.
In 1947 there was was a strange advertisement by Dodds and Erwin of Perth, headed “Some Like It Hot.” People thought it might be about boogie woogie but instead it was. about “peas brose” Ever hear of it? “What’s better than a nice cup of pease porridge right now?” asks the ad.
This goes on: “They say it was pea brose that made Scotland the second best nation on earth (the first being Ireland.) “Others say it was pea brose that drove the Scotsman away from home. So tastes differ.”
It was said that it could be found at Snow Road, and Flower Station. (Both were on the old Kingston and Pembroke branch of the CPR).
Pease pudding is an English dish consisting of boiled peas which are seasoned with salt and other spices, and then cooked together with bacon or ham for extra flavor. The final result is a thick porridge with mild, yet rich flavors. Originally, pease pudding was cooked in large cauldrons which were hanging over an open fire.
Traditionally pease pudding is served with pork and was often cooked in a muslin with the ham. Today, it is even available in cans throughout the United Kingdom.
Dodds & Erwin has been serving the agricultural community for over 99 years. Established in 1918 the business is now being operated by 4th generation Erwin’s! We supply feed and farm supplies to all the local farms as well as purchase most of our grain locally off those same farms! We also have a wide variety of wild life feeds and pet foods to suite your needs. In the summer months of May-October we have a vast bulk landscape supply depot as well as every variety of lawn seed to garden seed you desire! Stop into our Feeds n’ Needs outlet at 2870 Rideau Ferry road, 1 km south of Perth on county road 1.
This week my friend Bobby Lyons from Cincinnati posted a Walmart Facebook ad that has actually been rolling around since 2018 (you’re slippin RG) for “funeral potatoes” from Walmart. Yup, you read that correctly. But what are they?
Believe it or not, “Funeral Potatoes” is not actually their technical name–it’s usually something like Cheesy Potato Casserole. These are often found served with ham on festive holiday dinner tables as well as luncheons following funerals which, shockingly, is how they got their name.
Why are funeral potatoes are so delicious? We chalk it up to the heartfelt care and sympathy with which they’re prepared. I’m not crying. You’re crying carbs and fats which make us happy. Though they have a sombre name, funeral potatoes are truly the ultimate comfort food. Potatoes to die for and Walmart’s version has a shelf life of up to 18 months! Holy Mother of you know who!
A dish of funeral potatoes is supposedly a way to show your support and sympathy for a grieving family. To make them yourself, and you could follow the Pioneer Woman’s go-to funeral potatoes recipe. The ingredients list isn’t long, nor fancy either. While it’s not difficult to put together, it does bake up into a truly comforting and filling side dish. Her recipe includes as a base frozen shredded hash brown potatoes, which makes the casserole prep even easier. It also includes assorted cheeses, sour cream, and a topping of kettle-cooked potato chips, among other ingredients. While you are at she also has a funeral episode you might want to take a gander at.
Upon doing a little digging through my dusty mind I discovered I’ve actually had funeral potatoes many times, which I always knew as cheesy hash browns. There are countless variations of the casserole-type side dish, but the general recipe calls for ‘taters, cheese, some kind of cream soup, sour cream, and a crunchy top made of cereal or potato chips. Life could be tragic, if some things weren’t so darn funny. I just figured out that lint from my dryer is actually the remains of my missing socks.
Alex Knisely — When I brings ’em I cooks ’em and I hands ’em over to the kinfolk of the dear departed, sayin’, Take the salt off the table when you serve these, darlin’, ’cause they’re watered with my tears.
I always believed in Betty Crocker– well, I wanted to believe that the first lady of food was real. Similar to finding out that Nancy Drew’s author Carolyn Keene wasn’t real, one day Betty Crocker was no longer real either. I realized that dear old Betty was just a brand name and trademark developed by the Washburn Crosby Company.
The story goes that they chose Betty as her name because it sounded as American as the Apple Pie she would show us all how to make. The original Betty Crocker New Picture Cookbook was first published in 1951 and everyone knows someone that has a Betty Crocker Cookbook in their home. Betty, like Margie Blake from the Carnation Company, was important to me as my mother died young, and food somehow replaced parental figures. Well, that’s what a few years of therapy taught me.
The recipes from any Betty Crocker Cookbook are from leaner times, and in the 50’s my mother used to make Tuna Pinwheels and Canned Devilled Ham Canape’s for her canasta parties. Bernice Ethylene Crittenden Knight was a stickler for an attractive food presentation, and she also made something called Congealed Salad for holiday meals. A combination of Orange Jello, Cool Whip, crushed pineapple, and wait for it, shredded cheese. I think my Dad called it “Sawdust Salad” and I seriously tried to remain clueless as to why. I’m sure everyone has a family member that says they’ll bring a “salad” to a family dinner, but then they bring some Jello concoction. Bonus points if it has marshmallows. Actually I feel more justified in calling anything a salad if I dump leftover taco beef and salsa onto a little lettuce topped with shredded cheese.
Everyone baked bread, but I guess not all people like Betty’s Fruit Loaf recipes because on page 78 of my vintage Betty Crocker cookbook the former owner of the book hand wrote:
“Terrible, even Nookie the dog turned it down.”
The steamed brown bread baked in a can was another baking tragedy. It was so horrible my Dad took my Grandmother’s failed recipe target shooting at the Cowansville dump. I would like to think that some of those rats got to feast on one of those brown breads. Of course, maybe after sampling it, they might have wanted to be put out of their misery.
I also used to love Betty Crocker’s 7 minute-frosting that my mother would put it on some of her 1950s nuclear coloured cake. Then there were the Floating Islands, homemade Rice Pudding, chilled with whipped cream and cinnamon on top. My grandmother’s specialty was steamed English Pudding, and when she was done, she would soak lumps of sugar with orange extract and then place them decoratively around the pudding. One by one each lump would be lighted with a match which would result in a near miss family dinner explosion each time.
Nostalgic triggers a story about our lives, helping us reflect on traditions and moments about the days when our parents and grandparents were alive. That’s why we should never lose print recipes, and real paper-based cookbooks. Those mystery meat recipes, books, and foods that were the same colour as radiation will always resonate with us because we get to see and relive the gravy stained favourites, and the personal notes in the margins. If reading about Betty Crocker has you craving a big slice of cake, you’re not alone. Time to bake!
Last year at the Maberly Fair, a man brought a type of pan to the Heritage Table and asked us/everyone if anyone know what this pan was. He said he found it on a farm in old South Sherbrooke Township (now Tay Valley Township). Nobody knew what it was. The man said not even Clive’s Curios could help. (newspaper column in the Lanark Era).
I don’t know who the man was, but he seemed to know the other locals who were hanging around the heritage booth – although I don’t know those people either – however I will recognize them again if they come back this year. If those same people come back this year, I’ll ask them who the man with the pan was – hopefully they will know and the end result will be that I can get more information about the pan – i.e. – other items it was found with.
The bottom of the pan appears to have a formula on it 23% m, and the peace symbol. This must mean something. I wonder if the formula is meant to be pressed, stamped, or branded into something since the text is raised rather than impressed into the pan itself. Maybe this pan is a mold for something – perhaps a weight was placed in it and the bottom of the pan was pressed into a soft hot metal – something a blacksmith might use- or maybe a foundary….. to mark a …..cast iron wood stove, cannon, etc.
The formula might indicate what the pan was made of – or what its used for.
Out of curiosity I checked the bottom of my own cast iron pans and the makers name is impressed into the bottom of the pan, not raised.
It appears to sit on something that that would have three, rungs, or elements….as the feet are graduated so it can sit flat on something, a little above something, or a little higher above something. Hard to explain.
Also notice the gear used where the handle attaches to the pan.
The handle itself has has a hook/crook in the top of it – so that when it hangs on something….it hangs straight or flat so that nothing can tip out of it….i.e. hot liquid ??
Hopefully the man, or the people who knew the man will come back to the Maberly Fair this August.
Karen Prytula–LCGS
Rob Bell thought it might be a spider skillet
I found this online
“There was a black iron skillet in my mother’s kitchen that she always called the spider. “Fetch me down that black iron spider,” she would say when she was getting ready to start on one of her famous dishes –tuna fish casserole, for instance, topped not with potato chips but with baking powder biscuits; or American chop suey, which surely must have had an Italian ancestry, made as it was with ground meat, tomato sauce and elbow macaroni. Or cornbread — no cornbread could ever fulfill its flavor potential, she declared, unless it was baked in that black iron spider.” Read the rest here: CLICK
lindaseccaspina 