I love corn on the cob, and make it several times a week during the peak season. I’ve always boiled the corn, but was intrigued by a hundred-year-old recipe for Baking Corn on Cob, and decided to give it a try.
The recipe called for pulling the husk back and removing the corn silk, then soaking in water. After the corn has soaked for half an hour, the husk is pulled back into place, and the corn is baked.
The verdict: The corn was tasty, and the cooked corn was attractive in the husk. Baking the corn on the cob is a nice variation.
Here’s the original recipe:
Source: Cook Book of the Susquehanna Valley Country Club, Sunbury, PA (1924)
Pull back the husks on the corn, and remove all the silk. Put the corn (with the pulled-back husks) in a large pan of cold water; let soak for 1/2 hour.
Preheat oven to 400° F. Remove the corn from the pan, and shake off the water. Pull the husks back into place and cover the corn with the husks. Put directly on the wire rack in the oven; bake 30 minutes.
The husk can either be removed before serving or it can be served with the husk still on.
We’re getting to the peak of peach season. Succulent peaches are wonderful fresh, and are also wonderful when baked into various delectable desserts. I recently came across a recipe for Peach Meringue Pie in a hundred-year-old cookbook, and decided to give it a try.
The pie was a winner. The peach filling was sweet with a hint of tartness, and the meringue topping was refreshingly light with a nuanced vanilla flavor which nicely balanced the peaches.
Here’s the original recipe:
Source: Butterick Cook Book (1924)
I’m not sure why the recipe called for cooking and mashing the peaches prior to putting them in the pie shell, but I followed the directions. Maybe the recipe author did not want distinct slices of peach in the baked pie.
I sweetened the peaches with 1/2 cup sugar. When I made this recipe the cooked peaches were very juicy -and I knew that they would not hold their shape in a pie, so I added 1/4 cup of flour. This worked well, and the cooked peach pie filling was an appropriate consistency when the pie was baked.
It’s intriguing that the old recipe indicated that the recipe was for either apple or peach meringue pie. I would think that the spices that are used in an apple pie would be somewhat different than the spices in a peach pie. Similarly, I would think that more flour would be needed to thicken the filling of a peach pie than an apple one (though, of course, no flour or other thickener was called for in the old recipe).
Preheat oven to 400° F. Put the sliced peaches and the sugar in a saucepan; stir together. Using medium heat bring to a boil while stirring occasionally; simmer, until the peaches are soft, while continuing to stir occasionally (about 5 minutes). Remove from heat and mash the cooked peaches. (I used a potato masher). It is okay if the mashed peaches are chunky. Stir in the flour and nutmeg. Put the peach mixture into the pie shell and bake in oven until the filling begins to bubble, and the crust is lightly browned.
In the meantime, make the meringue. Place egg whites in a bowl, and beat the egg whites until they form stiff peaks. Gradually add powdered sugar and vanilla while continuing to beat. Then spoon on top of the pie and swirl. Reduce oven temperature to 350° F. Return pie to oven and cook for an additional 8-10 minutes or until the meringue is lightly browned.
I was intrigued by a recipe in a hundred-year-old cookbook for Cucumber Sauté, so decided to give it a try. Cucumber spears are briefly boiled, then rolled in flour and sautéed.
The Cucumber Sauté spears were slightly crunchy and very tasty.
Here’s the original recipe:
Source: The New Butterick Cook Book (1924)
Except for the number of cucumbers, the amounts are not listed for any of the ingredients. When I updated the recipe, I added amounts for some of the ingredients.
2 tablespoons minced parsley or chives (I used parsley)
Fill a saucepan about 2/3’s full of water; bring to a boil using high heat.
In the meantime, peel the cucumbers, and then quarter them lengthwise. Put the quartered cucumbers into the boiling water, reduce heat so the water simmers and cook the cucumbers 3 minutes. The drain the cucumbers and lay on a paper towel to eliminate any excess moisture.
In the meantime, combine the flour, salt, and pepper. Then roll the cooked cucumbers in the flour mixture.
In a skillet, heat enough butter or cooking oil to cover the bottom of the pan. When hot, add the floured cucumbers. Cook until they begin to lightly brown, then turn and lightly brown the other side. When the cucumbers are turned add the parsley or chives and evenly distribute over the cucumbers. When lightly browned on both slides remove from heat, drain on paper towels, and serve.
On hot summer days, when the heat is intense and blistering, I always remember making hay when I was a child growing up on a farm. It was hot, hard work to bale hay, and then unload it off wagons and stack in the barn. I can remember we thought that it was a good day if we made 1,000 40-pound bales in a day. To keep the hay from the scratching me, I’d wear long pants and a long-sleeved shirt that were quickly soaked with sweat. To stay hydrated, we took huge jugs of water or Kool-Aid out the fields and the barn.
A hundred-years-ago it was even more labor intensive to make hay. Most farmers used horses rather than tractors, and the hay wasn’t baled. Rather the loose hay was stacked on wagons, and then unloaded in the barn. I never thought about what they drank back then while working in the hot fields until I came across a recipe in a hundred-year-old cookbook published by a Springfield, Illinois newspaper for Harvest Drink.
According to the recipe, Harvest Drink is “relished in the hay-field.” It is made using vinegar, molasses, water, and ground ginger. I decided to give it is try.
I can’t say that I liked Harvest Drink. It is slightly tart with a molasses flavor. Maybe if I was making hay, and was hot and dehydrated, I would find it refreshing – but can totally understand why this beverage has gone out of fashion. We have a lot of better options now that are much tastier.
Here’s the original recipe:
The New Home Cook Book, 1924 Edition (Published by Illinois State Register, Springfield, IL)
This is a large recipe. I actually divided the amounts by 10. However, many of the ingredient amounts were unusual fractions, so when I updated the recipe, I kept the original amounts.
On hot summer days, cool and refreshing gelatin salads can hit the spot, so when I saw a recipe in a hundred-year-old cookbook for a gelatin salad called Luncheon Salad I decided to give it a try. Luncheon Salad is a delightful, bright, slightly tart lemon gelatin embedded with apple, celery, and pecan pieces. It is made using unflavored gelatin and lemon juice, which makes the gelatin much more flavorful than gelatin made from a box of “lemon” gelatin.
Sometimes recipes in old cookbooks have unusual names that doesn’t describe the food. This is one of those cases. Why was the recipe called Luncheon Salad? The recipe was in a cookbook published by Susquehanna Valley Country Club (Sunbury, PA). Did they serve this salad at country club luncheons?
Here’s the original recipe:
Source: Cook Book (Susquehanna Valley Country Club, Sunbury, PA, 1924)
I am not sure how large envelopes of unflavored gelatin were a hundred years ago, but the packets I had said they should be combined with 2 cups of liquid. Since this recipe calls for 3 cups of liquid, I used two packets of gelatin.
Put the cold water in a bowl. Sprinkle the gelatin on top of the water, and let soak for 5 minutes; then add to the boiling water and stir to dissolve. Stir in the sugar and lemon juice. Refrigerate until the mixture begins to stiffen, then stir in the apples, celery, and pecans. Wet a 5 – 6 cup mold with cold water, then pour the mixture into the mold and chill until firm (at least 4 hours).
To serve: Quickly dip the mold in hot water, then unmold onto serving plate.
When our son recently visited, his flight arrived late at night – and I wanted to make a bedtime snack for him. I saw a recipe for Oatmeal Cookies in a hundred-year-old cookbook – and decided they might fit the bill.
These classic cookies were easy to make and very tasty. They have a hint of cinnamon, and are soft and chewy.
Here’s the original recipe:
Source: Modern Priscilla Cook Book (1924)
I used brown sugar when I made the recipe. It’s intriguing that the recipe specifies “sweet milk” which I think is just regular milk. A hundred-years-ago many families still lived on farms and drank milk that was not pasteurized; and, even in towns, much of the milk that was sold was not pasteurized. Back then, if the non-pasteurized milk was not used quickly, the “good” bacteria in the milk would turn it into a sour milk suitable for use in recipes. I would think that if a recipe just said “milk” that cooks would know that it was just calling for regular milk and not for sour milk, but apparently the cookbook author thought that it was important to clarify.
Preheat oven to 375° F. Cream the shortening and brown sugar. Stir in the milk and eggs, then add the salt, cinnamon, baking soda, baking powder, flour, and vanilla; stir until smooth. Still in oatmeal; stir until combined. Drop heaping teaspoons of the dough onto greased baking sheets; bake until set and lightly browned (about 10 minutes).
When browsing through hundred-year-old cookbooks, I often skip the yeast bread section while thinking that breadmaking is too much work and too time consuming. But I recently had a little spare time – and thought that it might be relaxing to make bread – so I looked at the old bread recipes. The one that piqued my interest was a recipe for Raisin Bread. It had been year since I’d eaten Raisin Bread – and suddenly I was very hungry for it. (I know that I can buy it at the store, but I never do.)
Here’s the original recipe:
Source: The New Butterick Cook Book, 1924
Sounds easy peasy. Right?
Next I found the general directions for making bread, as well as the directions for making white bread, and realized it was a little more complicated than I originally thought. Here are the general directions in the 1924 cookbook for making bread:
Source: The New Butterick Cookbook (1924)
And, here is the “standard recipe for making white bread” that was in that cookbook:
Source: The New Butterick Cook Book, 1924
After reading all of these directions, I realized that this bread recipe is different from most other bread recipes that I’ve made. It called for allowing the bread to rise three times (rather than two times like I typically do), and instead of kneading the bread the second time, the directions called for folding the dough under. Also, the recipe indicated that the dough should be allowed to “almost treble” for the first and third times the dough was allowed to rise, while the second time, the dough should be allowed to rise until it was “light.”
My head was starting to spin, so I did several online searches, and discovered that bread dough can be allowed to rise three times (though there is a risk of the bread collapsing during baking if it is allowed to rise too much) – but that stretching and folding bread dough instead of kneading it the second time is gentler on the dough, so it reduces the risk of the bread collapsing. The online searches also indicated that folding the bread dough and allowing it to rise three times had the potential to improve the texture.
Since yeast cakes a hundred years ago, aren’t the same as modern dried yeast, I did another online search and determined that a yeast cake was about the same as a packet of dry active yeast. I used a packet of yeast when making this recipe.
As indicated in the old directions, I started baking the bread in a 400° F. oven. After 15 minutes, I reduced the heat to 350° F. After baking an additional 25 minutes (for a total of 40 minutes), the bread was nicely brown and sounded hollow when I tapped it, so I removed it from the oven. (I didn’t bake if for the 50 to 60 minutes called for in the old directions.)
Onward–
The verdict: This recipe was worth the effort. The Raisin Bread turned out great. It was tasty and had a lovely texture. It should be noted that most modern Raisin Breads contain cinnamon, but that this recipe didn’t call for any – so it tastes a little different than modern Raisin Breads. That said, this Raisin Bread is lovely warm, spread with butter, and sprinkled with cinnamon.
Scald the milk by heating to just below boiling (about 180 – 185° F.). Remove from heat and add shortening, molasses, and salt. Allow to cool until lukewarm.
In the meantime, chop the raisins (I cut each raisin into 3 – 4 pieces.). Then dredge the raisin pieces with approximately 1-2 tablespoons flour and gently stir to coat the pieces with flour. Set aside.
In the meantime, dissolve the yeast in the warm water. Combine the dissolved yeast, and lukewarm scalded milk mixture in a large bowl. Add half the flour; beat until smooth beat. Then add additional flour until the dough reaches a consistency where it can be handled. Turn onto a floured surface and knead until the dough is smooth and elastic (about 10 minutes). Flatten the dough and sprinkle about one-fourth of the chopped raisins on top; then fold over and knead a little more to incorporate the raisins. Repeat until all the raisins are embedded in the dough. Put in a large greased bowl, and grease the top of the dough. Cover and place in a warm spot that is free from drafts until it has almost tripled in size (about 1 1/2 hours).
Fold the dough by pulling each side of dough to stretch it, and then fold underneath the other dough. Cover and allow to rise until light (about 30 minutes). Divide dough into two equal parts and shape into loaves. Place in two greased loaf pans, and cover. Let rise until tripled in size (about 1 hour).
Bake loaves in 400° F. oven for 15 minutes, then reduce heat to 350° F and continue baking until lightly browned (about an additional 25 minutes for a total of about 40 minutes).
I was intrigued by a recipe in a hundred-year-old cookbook for Cucumber Sauté, so decided to give it a try. Cucumber spears are briefly boiled, then rolled in flour and sautéed.
On hot summer days, when the heat is intense and blistering, I always remember making hay when I was a child growing up on a farm. It was hot, hard work to bale hay, and then unload it off wagons and stack in the barn. I can remember we thought that it was a good day if we made 1,000 40-pound bales in a day. To keep the hay from the scratching me, I’d wear long pants and a long-sleeved shirt that were quickly soaked with sweat. To stay hydrated, we took huge jugs of water or Kool-Aid out the fields and the barn.
When our son recently visited, his flight arrived late at night – and I wanted to make a bedtime snack for him. I saw a recipe for Oatmeal Cookies in a hundred-year-old cookbook – and decided they might fit the bill.
