Cookbooks: Beard and Betty
The cookbooks are overflowing the shelves, but everytime I tried to whittle them down, the “throw” pile is very short (”Lo-Carb Cuisine” and “English Suet Puddings” were easy picks). There are some that I would never part with; here are two of them.
Growing up, my cooking guru was James Beard – mostly because his were the cookbooks on my mom’s shelf, so it’s kind of a second-hand influence. My own shelf now boasts copies of James Beard’s American Cookery, James Beard’s Menus for Entertaining (where his advice that entertaining should never be “chi-chi” has served me well), and Beard on Bread.
The latter is probably still the best introductory bread-baking cookbook available in print. If you read it through like a novel (the best way to read cookbooks) and then prepare all the recipes from start to finish, you’ll learn a lot and probably end up a very good baker.
Some of my students don’t or won’t bake because they don’t like to measure things. I don’t know what this means – is their creative spirit being crushed by the oppressive demands of measuring cups and baking times? Or are they too pressed for time to do anything that precisely? Personally, I think it’s a lot of bunk; you’ll never be a serious cook until you’ve tackled some of the basics of baking. And if you shun the art because you can’t afford the calories, then learn it for the bread and other savories, like pizza or quiche or cornbread that are table staples. And pass the other goodies on to friends and co-workers.
Enough ranting. The cost of the book is worth the price just for the Cream Biscuits recipe. I’ve seen this appear in more recent cookbooks, but Beard is not credited, and I’m sure they’ve been around a lot longer than Beard as well. This recipe allows the baker to skip the “cut the shortening in” step that mystifies newbies. They are so easy that we use them in our kids classes, and do a scone variation that’s a favorite.
When my parents moved from their home of forty-odd years to a smaller place, my mother gave me her copy of Betty Crocker’s Picture Cook Book. This is a first-edition, folks; it came out in 1950. It’s hard-bound with a cloth cover, a bit faded, but still in great shape. It has those nice, heavy, glossy pages and lurid colored photographs that were cutting edge fifty years ago but are just scary now. There are little drawings sprinkled throughout the text that rival ones in the New Yorker for whimsy (my favorite: three little peanuts, wearing hats and grins, dancing atop the recipe for Peanut Brittle Tapioca.)
Oh, yes, the recipes! Lumberjack Macaroni. Ring of Plenty with Creamed Tuna and Peas in the center. Tongue a la jardinière from a page devoted to the preparation of variety meats (brains, chicken-fried heart, etc.). What struck me when reading this cookbok is that, while our tastes have changed radically in regards to appetizers, entrees, and the like, the recipes for cakes and cookies have remained pretty much the same. Some of the cookies I bake every Christmas can be found in these pages.
But I treasure this copy because of the handwritten recipes inside the front cover, sedately written out in beautiful Palmer script by my mother. There’s her name and the date (“3/54”) in the upper corner, followed by a recipe for Orange Blossom Punch (noted “Best one!”). It calls for a sugar syrup, orange, grapefruit, and lime juices, and a bottle of maraschino cherries and the juice they’re bottled in. Just before serving this tasty brew, you glug in some ginger ale and fling an ice ring into the bowl. The recipe yields 25 servings, but the proportions are paltry. It’s a pretty ho-hum punch, but here’s the kicker (scrawled in not-so-sedately at the bottom of the recipe in big, block letters): TO SPIKE — ADD 1/5 BLENDED WHISKEY. Ha! This is a perfect illustration of my mother: underneath that proper exterior, Party Girl lurks. Just like a lot of homemakers in the Betty Crocker Picture Cookbook era, I’m guessing. Honey, put down that egg-beater and have a little punch!









