My neighbors The Watkins were kind enough to lend me this incredible cookbook published in 1926. It was published when Calvin Coolidge was in the White House—the roaring 20s, an era when Americans were flush with cash…you know, like it was back in 2003.
The careful inscription on the inside jacket
I have fallen in love with this book because it covers absolutely everything. There are chapters on butter and cheese, carving, pickles, ice cream and ices, dumplings and puddings, meats and mutton and pork, soups without meat (the shock!), even toast. The catsup chapter alone encompasses 13 recipes.
My favorite chapter is called For the Sick. ”Dishes for invalids should be served in the daintiest and most attractive way.” I can’t figure how a recipe for “egg gruel” fits into this dictum, but what do I know?
The most striking thing about the White House Cookbook is that the authors don’t spend much time giving precise amounts or temperatures, which is completely antithetical to the way non-chefs like me think about cooking today. In Coolidge’s day, it was just assumed cooks knew how to make dough from scratch and bake it at the correct temperature—that is, “in a hot oven.” Further explanation would have come across like telling readers how to properly toast Pop Tarts today.
This is an alien concept to me since I am an apple-polishing recipe follower to the core. I can barely make toast without a recipe. Some may say this shows a lack of risk-taking in the kitchen, and I suppose there is truth to that. But I do it this way because I’m obsessed with technique—I want to know how to make a roux, a roast, a French fry, even a quesadilla correctly. Otherwise, it just feels like I’m inculcating bad habits—like putting a cold piece of meat in a cold pan then turning on the burner.
But The White House Cookbook has inspired me! It has challenged me. I want to see if I can make one of their bare-bones recipes relying primarily on my cook’s intuition.
First up: Walnut catsup.
All original content © 2012 by Jessie Knadler