The Essence of Ohio Food

I'm not sure if this supposedly legendary fried bologna sandwich from G&R Tavern in Waldo, Ohio intrigues me or scares the living hell out of me.

Mince Meat Pies

I've always found mince meat pies one of America's most disgusting culinary traditions. I'm not sure that Cliff Doerksen's article on mince pie's history and his attempt to make one in a traditional manner made me feel different, but it certainly was fascinating. Among the bizarre asides within:

Mince pie was brought to American shores by the British religious dissenters who settled New England, but it arrived under a cloud. English Puritans regarded the dish as inherently popish, and during the rule of Cromwell mince had been banned, along with such related pagan folderol as Christmas, maypoles, gambling, and musical instruments in church.

Several New England colonies likewise had laws against mince (and Christmas). Yet the dish somehow survived suppression, and as Puritan theocracy waned and a relative pluralism bloomed, it thrived.

...

When the 18th Amendment went into effect in 1919, the national liquor and catering interests began lobbying and lawyering hard to create a loophole in the Dry Law that would exempt the culinary arts. The campaign culminated in an October 1922 federal court case pitting Chicago's Old Victory Distillery against Prohibition enforcement officials. A 60-page brief submitted by the distillery's lawyers built the case for booze in the kitchen almost exclusively in terms of its implications for the future of mince. They won the case handily.

The presiding federal judge tipped his hand early as to the direction of his ruling, invoking a pro-mince chestnut by Indiana doggerel poet James Whitcomb Riley: "I haven't looked through the brief entirely," he said. "But the appeal certainly is seasonable as we approach the days 'when the frost is on the pumpkin and the corn is in the shock.'"

And mince itself could be retooled as a camouflaged liquor-delivery medium: In 1919 the Chicago Tribune reported that the average alcohol content of canned mince samples on display at a trade show for the hotel business had spiked to 14.12 percent, offering a far more efficient buzz than legal near beer, with its measly .5 percent. "I love pie," declared one attendee. "Here's how!" leered his companion, and they clinked their plates together like cocktail glasses.

...

In an age impressed by Darwinian science but still largely wedded to the fallacy that acquired traits could be inherited, mince pie appeared to some as a threat to the very survival of the American people. Thus, Dr. Fenton B. Turck of Chicago warned a conference of the Mississippi Valley Medical Association in 1910 that the "armor-plate mince pie diet indulged in by all America" was rapidly bringing about "race deterioration not only in Connecticut and Maine, but in other states." Turck's dire views were later echoed and amplified by Dr. Andre Tridon, a French immigrant and Manhattan's leading Freudian psychoanalyst, who in 1921 cautioned Caucasian America that the national diet, with its "atrocious corned beef and cabbage and horrible mince pie," would ultimately undermine white supremacy and put the rising black race in control.

I could go on. If this doesn't whet your appetite for reading (because it sure as hell isn't going to whet your appetite for eating), I don't know what will. 

Update: A friend finds an anti-mince meat pie rant from 1879. Remarkable.

Now That's Disgusting

If you want to say you like fried food, fine; but don't say it tastes "better" that way, or that it's "good for you." Oh, and putting a hot dog in a zucchini and then frying it?

Yep - this man hates food.

Food Activism for Lazy People

So I'm increasingly fascinated by the politics of food. I grow massively annoyed by the marketing of "green" as an upscale lifestyle choice--I'm out of work right now aside from whatever freelancing I can cobble together, and I cannot afford to buy my groceries at the local organic food co-op, which sells the same things as Whole Foods but is even more expensive (though at least it's not a rotten corporation). I buy cheap food at the cheap bodegas and might have to make a trip to the grocery superstore a few blocks over, and cheap food mostly translates to cereal, rice, pasta, and frozen vegetables so I don't die of scurvy.

I do spend a few extra bucks on fresh apples and other fruit, at the local farmer's market if I can manage it.

Then the other problem: I don't cook. I am almost 30 and I doubt that at this point I'm going to turn around and decide I love cooking, and though Michael Pollan's right about a lot, he's not going to be able to talk me into liking cooking the same way that hundreds of earnest people have not been able to talk me into liking the Beatles.

Much the same as the Beatles, I understand that cooking is important. I just don't enjoy doing it. Moreover, at this point I feel GUILTY for walking away from the computer to spend half an hour or more in the kitchen when I have work to do, and when I've reached my quota for the day, I don't feel like doing any more work.

And there are many people out there who have less money, less education, and less free time than I do.

So, where's MY cookbook? I don't need 30-minute meals, I need 5-minute meals. Organic farmer's markets aren't going to solve my food dilemmas as long as the food at the crappy corporate grocery is cheaper.

I'm interested in urban gardening and real food co-ops and ways that people can provide real food activism that isn't preachy and condescending. I'm interested in ways we can make our food better for us, better for the environment, and available to all. Eating healthy shouldn't be a privilege, and climate change will never be addressed if only the top 5% of the country can afford to "live green."

I'm betting Erik has some thoughts on this, since the intersection of his academic work--labor issues and environmental issues--is really what I'm talking about. But I want to hear from everyone. Unless you're going to tell me to learn to cook (or just listen to the Beatles one more time, man...)

Historical Image of the Day

Menu from wedding reception of Maria Ewing Sherman and Thomas William Fitch, Washington, DC, 1874.

I guess I wasn't aware how much turtle and oysters people ate in the 19th century. I think everyone of these menus has had multiple oyster dishes and most have had some kind of turtle as well. Another thing that has interested me, though I don't think it's on this menu, is the specificity of the species of duck people are eating.

Historical Image of the Day

Food and drink menu from United States Hotel, Washington, 1852. The dinner was dedicated to the election of Franklin Pierce as president.

If I were at Franklin Pierce's inauguration, I think I'd be having some saddle of venison from the tenth legion Virginia, ornamented beef tongue, terrapins stewed in diadem, and partridges in pair French style. I mean if the country is going to hell, why not eat? But the real question I would have trouble answering is whether to have celery dressed or celery in stalk. How can one make such a difficult decision?

I also like that it wasn't an open bar.

In truth, if I was at the Franklin Pierce inauguration, I'd probably be trying to feed him poison, but that's for another post.

Historical Image of the Day

Mrs. S.L. Skilton's Eating House, Boston, 1860

Today, I believe I'll have some tripe (cooked very rare), some calf's head, and some lettuce on the side.

Historical Image of the Day

Fifth Avenue Hotel, New York City, October 19, 1903

Anyone for an appetizer of cromesqui of terrapin a la Baltimore, a main course of boiled ham and spinach, with some mashed turnips for veggies? I didn't think so.

Historical Image of the Day

With the death of Ted Kennedy and the 200th birthday of Abraham Lincoln being commemorated in the last two weeks of historical images, we've had a lot of dead white men. That's not cool. So the next couple of weeks I am going to try and do some really different things.

This week's theme is historical menus. I love this stuff. Click on it to get a better view.

Ebbitt House, Washington, D.C., March 3, 1866

I think I'll have the boiled beef tongue, wild Red Head duck broiled with currant jelly sauce, and South Down mutton roast.

Note, Americans have always liked their meat.

I'm also amazed that Guinness is on the menu (50 cents!). I had no idea it had that kind of long history in the U.S.

Only In Texas...

...could they decide that regular bacon was too healthy, and that they had to come up with chicken-fried bacon. None of these 10 items seem healthy, but chicken-fried bacon is....wow. And I'm pleased but surprised to note that Ohio was not on the list (though Anthony's old stomping grounds of Indiana does have the "pizza cone" at its state fair).

Food History Blogging: 19th Century American Recipes

These are just links to old posts of mine, but since most of our readers (or writers) were not around when I first posted these recipes, I thought I would link to them as the second post in the food history blogging series. If you ever wanted to know the best way (or at least a seemingly disgusting way) to bake possum or how to make your tainted meat tasty again, this is the post for you. 

Possum and Taters

Passenger Pigeon

Fried Squirrel

Tainted Meat

Attack upon Brown Sugar

Treating Scarlet Fever with Bacon

Enjoy!

Food History Blogging: John Harvey Kellogg

I have in mind a few new historically based topics for the blog. You've been reading Crisis of Masculinity Blogging. Here is the second--Food History Blogging. Every now and again, I'll talk about some issue of food history, usually within the United States but sometimes around the world.

I'll start with a story that some of you might be familiar with, but maybe not. That of John Harvey Kellogg, the inventor of Corn Flakes and the founder of Kellogg's cereals.

Kellogg was a doctor who lived in Battle Creek, Michigan during the late 19th and early 20th centuries. A Seventh-Day Adventist, Kellogg ran a sanitarium in Battle Creek based upon that religion's principles. Sanitariums were common during these times as places where a generally wealthy clientele could heal from their illnesses. Kellogg believed in a vegetarian diet and abstaining from tobacco and alcohol. He worried that meat eating caused sexual stimulation and fought against both of these things. This is a common theme of 19th century food thinkers--trying to restrain the unclean urges, be they food, alcohol, or sex.

Kellogg was a zealous campaigner against masturbation, something that worried a lot of people in the late 19th century. Campaigns against "self-pollution" were common. Kellogg drew upon medical sources that claimed that "neither the plague, nor war, nor small-pox, nor similar diseases, have produced results so disastrous to humanity as the pernicious habit of onanism," as one Dr. Adam Clarke wrote. Kellogg strongly warned against masturbation in his own words, claiming of masturbation related deaths, "such a victim literally dies by his own hand,"(!!!!) among other condemnations. He felt that not only did masturbation destroy physical and mental health, but the moral health of individuals as well. Kellogg believed that the "solitary vice" caused cancer of the womb, urinary diseases, nocturnal emissions, impotence, epilepsy, insanity, and mental and physical illness. He worked hard to "rehabilitate" masturbating children. For self-polluting boys, he suggested,

"A remedy which is almost always successful in small boys in circumcision....The operation should be performed by a surgeon without administering an anaesthetic, as the brief pain attending the operation will have a salutary effect upon the mind, especially if it be connected with the idea of punishment, as it may well be in some cases. The soreness which continues for several weeks interrupts the practice, and if it had not previously become too firmly fixed, it may be forgotten and not resumed."

For girls, Kellogg said "in females, the author has found the application of pure carbolic acid to the clitoris an excellent means of allaying the abnormal excitement."

Kellogg was a strong proponent of eating nuts, believing they could save the world from hunger. He also believed in enemas. After the enema, they would be forced to undergo a second enema, this time with yogurt, while also eating yogurt at the same time, "thus planting the protective germs where they are most needed may render most effective service." He believed that the key to health and proper Victorian moderation was a well-balanced vegetarian diet favoring low-protein, laxative, and high fiber foods. Thus he and his brother invented corn flakes. Modern whole grain cereals were unknown to Americans before Corn Flakes came out in 1897. The rich ate meat and eggs for breakfast while the poor usually had some sort of porridge or other boiled grains.

Kellogg was a real true believer. His brother Will knew that what would really make cereals sell was to add sugar to them. John refused. In 1906, the two brothers split over this, Will to become rich and John to die in obscurity.

Historical Image of the Day

Recipe for pickle to cure beef or ham, 1820s.

I like how someone wrote "not good" at the bottom.

A Fair Question

From a Times article on showing fortune cookies to Chinese people:

"The Chinese...would often tell me after trying the curved vanilla-flavored wafers, “Americans are so strange, why are they putting pieces of paper in their cookies?"

Indeed.

Alterdestiny Eats

Chiles abound in my plot o' earth out back. I have several varieties of organically grown chiles, which do very well here in the hot, dry Central Texas climate. Chiles are kind of a weird thing to grow-- it's not like chiles are all that expensive. But it's nice to have a steady supply in the backyard, and one has more options for varieties.

Thought I would share this one with you all, since it is time for great chiles and fresh tomatoes. Totally vegetarian, and there is even a vegan variation at the bottom. Slice them up and eat them with torn pieces of a warm corn tortilla. A margarita might be a bit on the nose; I'm sure pairing suggestions will abound. And Erik, I'm waiting for a post about the food in Bolivia.

Pineapple and Chipotle-Stuffed Poblanos

serves 4 (side dish sized-portions)

4 large poblano peppers
2 – 3 mild or hot chiles, depending on taste (Anaheim, Fresno, Hatch Green
Chiles, etc)
1 TB butter
1 medium onion
2 cloves of garlic, minced
1 medium tomato, juiced, seeded, diced
1 tsp of minced epazote (can substitute dried oregano)
2 ½ cups of freshly diced pineapple (can substitute 16 oz can)
2 TB of chopped cilantro

• Roast all chiles over gas range flame, turning until all sides are charred black (These can also be roasted in an over broiler or over a grill). Let cool.
  
• Remove charred skin of chiles, and seeds. Be very careful with the poblanos; the flesh will tear easily after roasting.
  
• Dice the mild or hot chiles; reserve the poblanos for stuffing.
  
• In a medium saucepan, heat butter, then add onion, garlic, and epazote. Cook until tender, slightly carmelized.
  
• Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
  
• Add pineapple, tomato, diced chiles and cilantro. Simmer until pineapple is soft and cooked through.
  
• Pour some liquid from the saucepan into a 9 x 9 glass baking dish. Begin to spoon pineapple mixture into the poblanos, being careful not to tear peppers.
  After stuffing, place peppers in the baking dish. Smother the peppers with any pineapple mixture left, bake for 10 – 15 minutes, until peppers are heated through.
  
• Serve with warm tortillas.

Variations: one could also add cooked rice or beans to the pineapple mixture for a heartier main-course style meal. To make the dish completely vegan, substitute olive or canola oil for the butter.

A (Slightly) Tongue-in-Cheek Inaugural Post

It is a real honor to be asked to contribute to Alterdestiny-- thanks to Erik and company for inviting me aboard. I hope I can add some interesting things to this fantastic blog. In his invitation e-mail, Erik offered that I could post about music, politics, etc., and joked that I could even include some folksy, Prairie Home Companion-style stories about my native rural Indiana.

Even though he was joking, I think I will start with such a post, and combine it with another subject I am very passionate about: food. I hope to write about food every now and again, ranging from important issues in agriculture and food production (issues of great importance both in my native state and my future home in California) to more mundane things like weird recipes from our own kitchen.

I would like to share a strange family staple with you all-- the Tomato Sandwich. This doesn't even qualify as a regional food, as I'm unaware of other Indiana folks eating this particular incarnation of a bastardized BLT. First, the recipe:

The Tomato Sandwich

2 slices of homemade country style white or wheat bread, toasted
1 small sliced tomato, preferably homegrown
2 TB of peanut butter
Pepper to taste

Slather the peanut butter on the toast, add tomato slices and pepper to taste

I'm completely in the dark about how this sandwich came into being, but my family lives on them in the summer, once the tomatoes get really good. I still eat these everyday for lunch when I have good tomatoes, and even sometimes in the winter when the tomatoes are waxy, watery, hydroponic crapballs. My grandmother ate them as a child, but her mother came to the U.S. when she was a teenager (from France) and her father from Southern Germany. It seems unlikely that either of them would have had peanut butter as children, so I can't fathom that it would be a hold over from either of my great-grandparents' childhoods. My best guess is that this sandwich was a cheap lunch to feed a family of 15 on a busy farm-- the bread was always baked at home (25 loaves a week [!]), and the tomatoes would have come from the substantial garden on the farmstead. Peanut butter was likely a cheap alternative to meat, and probably the best explanation for the sandwich's genesis.

Now, I know this sounds outrageously disgusting, but try it sometime (with good country-style bread and real tomatoes). It really is fantastic; though I understand I have a strong family connection to the sandwich, and that may be what it takes to love this food like I do.

NB: It is also amazing with bacon and lettuce, in the style of a BLT.

Historical Image of the Day

"A New England Kitchen: A Hundred Years Ago."
Published 1876, thus portraying 1776.

Look at me, I can do math.

Article of the Year

Article title of the year:

"The Ocean's Hot Dog: The Development of the Fish Stick,"

By Paul Josephson in the new issue of Technology and Culture.

Given that I am teaching a course titled, "Food, Drugs, and Sex: The History of Human Bodies and the Environment" for the fall, I will be reading this awesome looking piece.

Absurd Texts of American History (VII, f)

The final entry in this series on American food from Alice L. McLean's wonderful, Cooking in America, 1840-1945.

This, another from Elizabeth Fries Ellet's New Cyclopaedia of Domestic Economy, and Practical Housekeeper, from 1871.

This bit is on adulterated sugar.

"The sugar, if it be brown, without taking note of such items as a little lead, a good deal of sand, some clay and flour is pretty nearly as thick as it can hold chips of cane and swarms of mites...For sugar, the best advice is--if you like to pay for dirt, and to mix it with your preserves, pudding, and pastry, and choose to believe that sugar which moistens even the thick paper they place it in, and which looks dark, smells strong, and sticks to your fingers, is richer in sweetening than clear sparkling white sugar, out of which none of the sweetening but all of the dirt has been washed--then buy white sugar."

Damn.

Absurd Texts in American History (VII, e)

The first of a couple posts about tainted food from Alice L. McLean's, Cooking in America, 1840-1945.

This first bit is on how to restore tainted meat. It's from Elizabeth Fries Ellet's New Cyclopaedia of Domestic Economy, and Practical Housekeeper, from 1871.

"Pour a few drops of hydrochloric acid in water till of a slight sour taste, and immerse the tainted meat in it for an hour or so, and it will become quite sweet again."

God, I am glad I don't live in the 19th century.