Monday Night Dinner

I once read a fantasy novel that, via various plot machinations, involved a 9th century woman from the Russian Steppes becoming the daughter-in-law of a 20th century Russian immigrant to Canada. The male protagonist was understandably somewhat concerned as to how these two women in his life would get along, but was immediately reassured when he came upon them in the kitchen.

“What surprised him was her instinctive grasp of what Mother needed her to do. She seemed to understand loading and unloading the dishwasher immediately, even though no one had explained to her what the dishwasher was or what it did. She seemed to know what tool Mother wanted and, most amazingly of all, where it was in the kitchen.

[ . . . . ] Katerina apparently recognized the tool when she saw it, because her hands already knew how to use it. Not only that, but she had got such a feel for the kitchen already that she knew where in the kitchen Mother would have put such a tool”

— Enchantment, Orson Scott Card –

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I like reading cookbooks, particularly old cookbooks. Not because I’m particularly interested in making the recipes – I can flatly guarantee that there is no circumstance in which I am going to want to make anything in aspic – but because they’re little slices of social history.

The American Frugal Housewife from 1833 warns her readers that, “Economical people will seldom use preserves, except for sickness. They are unhealthy, expensive and useless to those who are well.” The Charlotte Cookbook from 1969 gives menu suggestions for everything from a Bridge Luncheon to a Debutante Supper Party which include such recipes as Florida Garden Salad with Whipped Cream Dressing, and Sherry Pie. Even the Joy of Cooking, which I tend to think of as a relentlessly practical source of information, is full of weird little pieces of advice if you actually sit down and read the chapter introductions.

I like them partly because they’re just bizarre – who knew you could do that many things with jello, or that you might want to – and partly because I was a history major. Women’s history isn’t written in treaties or filed in national archives, it’s found in cookbooks and letters and guides on how to be a good housewife. Old cookbooks are a walk through how much life has changed even in just the last 50 years. Now we have shows on the Food Network about how to combine two working parents and kids with multiple after school activities with a home cooked meal every night. 40 years ago cookbooks were explaining the subtle differences between hors d’oeuvres and appetizers and how to plan an economical luncheon menu (use leftovers from your dinner the night before).
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