Source: The Boston Cooking-School Cook Book (1923)
Flavorings and extracts have been around for more than a hundred years. The 1923 edition of The Boston Cooking-School Cook Book had an advertisement for Foss’ Pure Flavoring Extracts in the back of the book. In Chapter 1, there was a description of flavoring extracts:
Flavoring Extracts
Many flavoring extracts are on the market. Examples: almond, vanilla, lemon, orange, rose, etc. These are made from the flower, fruit, or seed from which they are named. Strawberry, pineapple, and banana extracts are obtained from the fruits themselves or manufactured from chemicals.
I hadn’t made old-fashioned fried chicken in years, so was intrigued when I saw a recipe for Fried Chicken with milk gravy in a hundred-year-old cookbook and decided to give it a try. The chicken pieces are coated with flour then fried. The recipe called for frying the chicken pieces in a covered skillet. The coating on the chicken is not nearly as thick and crispy as many modern fried chicken recipes, but it is like the coating on fried chicken that I remember from my childhood. The milk gravy was lovely.
Here’s the original recipe:
Source: The Calorie Cook Book by Mary Dickerson Donahey (1923)
In the U.S. today, we generally refer to “skim milk.” The old recipe calls for “skimmed milk” rather than “skim milk.” Most milk was not homogenized a hundred years ago (and often it was not pasteurized), so the cream floated to the top. When using the milk, it could either be shaken to get “whole” milk or the cream on the top could be “skimmed” off to get the equivalent of skim milk. I don’t think that it matters whether skim, 2%, or whole milk is used in this recipe, so when I updated the recipe, I just called for using “milk.”
Combine the flour, salt, and pepper; then roll the chicken pieces in the flour mixture.
In the meantime, heat 1/2 inch of fat or oil in a large skillet (that has a lid) using medium heat. When hot, carefully place the floured chicken pieces in the pan. Cover skillet, and cook for approximately 5 minutes or until the bottom side of each piece is lightly browned, then gently turn, cover skillet, and fry until the other side is browned. The chicken pieces will need to be turned several times. Continue cooking until a meat thermometer indicates that the temperature is at least 165° F. (Put large pieces of chicken in the skillet and cook for a few minutes before adding smaller ones, if there is wide variation in the size of the pieces.)
Remove chicken from skillet, and pour most of the fat or oil out of the skillet. Put back on the stove at medium heat. Stir the 3 tablespoons flour into the remaining fat/oil and browned bits. Slowing stir in the milk. Continue stirring and cooking until the gravy thickens. Remove from heat and serve.
1923 was the third year of prohibition in the U.S. I have no idea which five fruits were in Hay’s Five Fruit, or what it tasted like, but I’m intrigued that it can replace “wines and other flavors formerly used in cooking.”
Sometimes recipe titles in hundred-year-old cook books aren’t very descriptive. For example, a recipe for Tomato Surprise left me scratching my head until I read the recipe directions. Tomato Surprise actually was a recipe for tomatoes stuffed with scrambled eggs and celery.
Tomato Surprise was tasty and made a nice presentation. I made it for a light dinner, but it would work well for breakfast, brunch, or lunch.
Here’s the original recipe:
Source: Larkin Housewives’ Cook Book (1923)
When I made this recipe, I had a lot the scrambled egg mixture left over after I stuffed the tomatoes. The recipe author must have used larger tomatoes than what I used. I revised the recipe to indicate that 3-6 tomatoes should be used, depending upon the size of the tomatoes.
Four stalks of celery seemed like a lot (maybe the stalks were smaller a hundred years ago), so I used 2 stalks.
A hundred-years-ago tomatoes were often peeled. The original recipe called for peeling tomatoes, but I couldn’t bring myself to peel the tomatoes, so I left the skin on.
I didn’t have onion juice, so I substituted 1/8 teaspoon of onion powder.
And, I decided that the tomatoes didn’t need to be served with lettuce or salad dressing.
Here’s the recipe updated for modern cooks:
Tomato Surprise (Stuffed Tomatoes with Scrambled Eggs and Celery)
Using a knife remove the stem end and the firm core from the tomato and discard. Scoop out the tomato pulp, place in a strainer and drain off any excess liquid. Chop the pulp. Set aside. Turn the tomato shells upside down on a plate to drain any liquid out of them.
In the meantime, break the eggs into a bowl. Beat eggs until smooth, then add the salt, cayenne pepper, onion powder, and milk. Beat until combined.
Using medium heat, melt butter in skillet, add egg mixture and cook the eggs until set. Periodically stir and fold the eggs until they are completely cooked. Removed from heat and stir in the chopped tomato pulp and celery. Stuff the tomato shells with the mixture.
If desired, serve on lettuce leaves with salad dressing.
Hundred-year-old cookbooks are filled with lots of household tips. Some tips stand the test of time better than others. Here’s one that leaves me scratching my head.
Warm some mutton tallow and put on the ink stain; place in hot sun or over the hot register for half an hour. Apply soap and rub on washboard with warm water. If white material, put in the boiler; if colored, apply the tallow, etc., until stain disappears.
Order of the Easter Star Relief Fund Cookbook (Michigan Grand Chapter, 1923)
Where do I find mutton tallow? And, for that matter, where do I find a washboard? And, I don’t have a boiler. (What is a boiler?)
Eggplant is one of those vegetables that I seldom use. I’m often not quite sure how to prepare it, and will pass over it when selecting vegetables to purchase. But I recently saw a really basic Fried Eggplant recipe in a hundred-year-old cookbook and decided to give it a try. Slices of eggplant were breaded with bread crumbs, then fried. It turned out well. The Fried Eggplant slices were crispy and delicious.
Here’s the original recipe:
Larkin Housewives’ Cook Book (1923)
I dried the eggplant slices using paper towels. The recipe makes it sound like cloth towels would have been used a hundred years ago.
I breaded the eggplant slices with bread crumbs rather than dipping in flour. I made my own bread crumbs. Starting with 2 slices of bread, I used a blender to make fine bread crumbs. A food processor would also work, or purchased bread crumbs could be used.
The old recipe called for soaking the eggplant slices in salted water for several hours before cooking. I think that modern eggplants are less bitter than the eggplants of days gone by, so I’m not sure if soaking is needed, but I did it. I’ve seen other recipes that call for just sprinkling eggplant with salt, letting sit for awhile, and then drying with paper towels. That might be another option.
Peel eggplant, then slice into 1/4 inch thick slices. Put in a bowl and cover with water that contains the salt. Let sit for 2 – 4 hours, then drain, and dry the eggplant slices with paper towels.
Put the beaten egg in a shallow bowl, and put the bread crumbs in another shallow bowl. Dip each eggplant slice in the egg, and then roll in the breadcrumbs to coat.
Heat 1/4 inch of fat or oil in a large frying pan. Carefully place the breaded eggplant slices in the pan in a single layer. Depending upon pan size, the slices may need to be cooked in several batches. Fry for approximately 3-5 minutes or until the bottom side of each slice is lightly browned, then gently turn and fry until the other side is browned. Remove from pan and drain on paper towels. Serve immediately.
Some things that were considered polite a hundred years ago, are no longer considered polite and vice versa. Whether a guest should tell a host about food dislikes or dietary restrictions has changed across the years. In 1923, it was considered polite to eat what was served, whether or not the guest liked it. Allergies were not generally considered. Here’s what it said in the introduction to a 1923 cookbook:
Personal culinary dislikes are not assets to boast of, though most people seem to think they are. They are liabilities to be got rid of as quickly as possible. Learn to like the things that are good for you. Can’t. Bosh! Nonsense! And again, tut, tut! I guess I know. I did it.
Up to my twenties I ate only bread, meat, potatoes, and sweets. I got sick – very sick- and suffered more than I should have suffered had I eaten properly. That was one reason for waking up and behaving. There were two others though.
First – if other people ate and relished all these things I despised, they must be good, and I was missing something. I wished to miss nothing.
Second- I discovered my limited diet made me a terror to hostesses. People dreaded to invite me, as I since have dreaded to invite people with limited tastes. No one likes to have to keep a card index system of the intricate dislikes of one’s friends. It’s a nuisance. I realized this as I saw harassed glances at things I wasn’t eating. I was unhappy. I didn’t want the particular hostess of the moment to worry about me, but she did, of course, and I do not like to be a worry and a bother to other folks, and I do like to be invited out. I was afraid if I didn’t reform I’d be an unwelcome guest. So I set to work. Seafoods, salads, vegetables – I can eat ’em all, though I freely acknowledge there are some I like better than others, and coconut and caraway seeds still do go down very, very hard, and only when I’m being polite. I am hoping to like them eventually.
The Calorie Cook Book (Mary Dickerson Donahey, 1923)
Proper etiquette has changed across the years. Here is what it said in Reader’s Digest in a 2023 article:
Not Telling Your Host about your Dietary Restrictions
If you have food allergies or other dietary restrictions, you’re probably well aware that talking about what gluten does to your tummy doesn’t make for the most artful dinner party conversation starter. If you’re a vegetarian, you might also not want to force them to cater to you. (After all, there’s always a salad or a side dish, right?) Accordingly, you may be under the impression that when invited to a dinner party, the politest course of action is to keep your dietary concerns to yourself and hope there will be something you can eat.
But if you don’t talk to your host about this in advance, it could be awkward for both you (you’ll go hungry) and them (they’ll definitely notice if you’re not eating the food they’ve put on the table and wonder why). Remember: They’ve taken a lot of time to prepare the meal and want you, as their guest, to be happy.
Do this instead: If you have dietary issues, mention them to your host in advance. Then you can decide, together, what works best for both of you and for the sake of the party’s flow.
Hundred-year-old cookbooks are filled with lots of household tips. Some tips stand the test of time better than others. Here’s one that leaves me scratching my head.
