I make a “new”  hundred-year-old candy recipe each December. This year I flipped through several 1923 cookbooks trying to decide which sweet confection to make – and ended up going with a recipe called Smith College Fudge that I found in a hospital auxiliary cookbook from western Pennsylvania.

The name intrigued me. Was this fudge commonly made by Smith College students? And, how did a fudge named after a college in Massachusetts end up in a western Pennsylvania cookbook?

This recipe was a winner. This classic fudge was rich and melted in my mouth. It contained a small amount of molasses which is not typically included in modern fudge recipes. The molasses made the fudge more flavorful in a delightful, nuanced way.

Here’s the original recipe:

Chocolate squares are smaller now than they used to be. A square once was 1 ounce; today the squares for many brands are only 1/2 ounce. When I made this recipe, I assumed that the author was referring to the larger chocolate squares of yesteryear, so used 4 squares (2 ounces) instead of the two that the recipe called for. I melted the chocolate prior to mixing with the other ingredients rather than grating it. I also added walnuts when I made this recipe.

Here’s the recipe updated for modern cooks:

Here’s the poem in a hundred-year-old cookbook at the beginning of the Cookies and Small Cakes chapter. Enjoy!

Here’s some hundred-year-old advice for selecting a turkey:

Turkey is the king of the winter table. It may be that there are people who don’t enjoy roast turkey, but the poor things are luckily few. But – if you aren’t careful, your turkey will not be as good as he ought to be. First, don’t pick out a bird whose breast bone is as unbending as iron, and the legs shouldn’t be nice and white, but sort of bluish. Gentlemen turkeys are said to be the best, but I think that’s sex prejudice. I’ve had some delectable meals from lady birds. Clean your turkey thoroughly, pull the tendons from the legs – if you can- and cut out the oil bag at the root of the tail. Wash, and then dry him, inside and out.

The Calorie Cook Book by Mary Dickerson Donahey (1923)

I probably should have done this post earlier in November – though somehow I don’t think that it would have been very helpful when you selected your Thanksgiving turkey.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

I’ve often heard that leftovers can be turned into wonderful soups, but was taken aback when a hundred-year-old cookbook referred to soups as the “antigarbagepail.”

As I remark in another portion of this work, what won’t go into a salad will go into a soup. It is very true. The soup kettle, if you will forgive me, should be a sort of antigarbagepail. Many a time and oft has my family smacked its collective lips and said, “Um-m-m, that’s good soup. What kind is it?” And when I repeat the component parts they sit aghast – but they don’t stop eating it!

The Calorie Cook Book by Mary Dickerson Donahey (1923)

The author may be right, but personally I prefer to “repurpose” my leftovers to make soup. . . or to use leftovers to “enrich” my soup. . . .or . . .

Based on a little saying at the beginning of the chapter containing pie recipes in a 1923 cookbook, my sense is that even a hundred years ago, pumpkin pie was considered a comfort food and a bit old-fashioned.

Hundred-year-old cookbooks often included hints and tips. Here’s one for storing lemons:

It may work to store lemons under a drinking glass, but I wondered if a plastic bag might be more convenient and work just as well – then I realized that plastic bags didn’t exist in 1923.  According to Dienamics, plastic bags were first used in 1957 when they were used to package rolls.

It can be tricky to make a good salad. Here is a proverb that was in a hundred-year-old cookbook about how to make the perfect salad: