Showing posts with label Cream of Mushroom Soup. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Cream of Mushroom Soup. Show all posts

Thursday, March 5, 2015

Tuna 'n Waffles!

Campell's Soup Recipes ca. 1954
Snow Day! Snow Day! Snow Day!

Oh, so there's a snow day today, if you haven't heard. I was going to post something today anyway, but thought I'd take the opportunity of free time to branch out into other mealtimes. If I were to really set my mind to the task, I'd likely calculate that Dr. Husband has made far more breakfasts than I have - perhaps with good reason.

Also - thanks, America, for all the new Facebook likes this week. Keep 'em coming! (And subscribe to our Youtube Channel while you're at it)

In case you're having trouble reading the recipe from the ad above, here you go. (I omitted the olives, not by choice - they've all been used up in martinis and I can't get to the store because of the aforementioned snow.)

Blend 1 can Campbell's Cream of Mushroom Soup with 1/2 cup milk, 1 cup drained, flaked tuna (7-oz. can) and 1/4 cup sliced stuffed olives. Heat thoroughly. Pour over 4 crisp waffles. Presto, a quick 'n easy dinner for 4.

DINNER FOR FOUR my foot. It barely fed two of us and we didn't even like it that much!

I mean - it was okay. Reminds me of the creamed codfish that my grandmother used to make, served over her own homemade bread.

Here's Dr. Husband's reaction, not as bad as I feared -
Our Rating: One Screaming Husband!
(all dishes are rated from one to five Screaming Husbands. One Screaming Husband equals a happy home where all problems are solved during cocktail hour. Five Screaming Husbands signals the beginning of divorce proceedings.)

Wednesday, November 20, 2013

Chinese Casserole

Chinese Casserole
contributed by Mrs. Mary West, Salt Lake, Utah
Favorite Recipes of America: Casseroles
Because nothing screams Chinese food like condensed mushroom soup and potato chips, I guess?

Have no illusions, this dish, while delicious, is only "Chinese" in the sense that you can throw any salty, gooey slop into a pot, call it Chinese, and Americans will lap it up.  Culinary mythology holds that that's how Americanized Chinese food got its start - Chinese immigrants, prevented from most jobs due to prejudice, opened up restaurants to cater to hungry miners and laborers and such, and developed sweeter, meatier dishes unknown in China but nonetheless exotic enough to seem exciting to the emerging middle class.

My own mother used to make something akin to egg foo young, which consisted of whatever happened to be lying in the bottom of the crisper drawer, scrambled with eggs, and served with a gelatinous sauce made from soy sauce and corn starch. Yum!

My crack Googling skills have also revealed several casserole recipes in the same vein as this one, which seemed to be popular at Church potlucks during the 60's and 70's.  As you'll see in the video, this one's a winner, so feel free to use or adapt to your heart's content!

1 lb. ground beef
1 pkg. frozen peas, thawed
2 c. finely sliced celery
1 can cream of mushroom or chicken soup
1 med. onion, finely chopped
3 tbsp. evaporated milk (opt.)
1/8 tsp. each pepper and salt
2 c. crumbed potato chips (opt.)

Fry ground beef until brown; place in 2-quart casserole. Place a layer of peas and a layer of celery on top. Mix soup, onion, evaporated milk, pepper and salt. Pour mixture on top of previous layers; top with potato chips. Bake in 375-degree oven for 55 minutes. Serve with soy sauce if desired. Serves 8.

I followed the directions to the letter. It seemed to be done well before 55 minutes was up, so you probably won't need to cook it so long. It does get awfully dried out, I'm wondering in hindsight if the  condensed soup should have been thinned with milk before pouring on top?  Also, there's not nearly enough salt, even with the potato chip topping. So add liberally, or follow the suggestion to serve with soy sauce.

Dr. Husband loved it, as you'll see:

Our Rating: One Screaming Husband!
(all dishes are rated from one to five Screaming Husbands. One Screaming Husband equals a happy home where all problems are solved during cocktail hour. Five Screaming Husbands signals the beginning of divorce proceedings.)
Oh and Hey!
Coming soon: The Twelve Days of Kitschmas! Twelve Recipes in Twelve Days, plus twelve songs from me and Dr. Husband!  You can send recipe ideas AND song requests by commenting below, or send it right to me at the Historic Test Kitchen by December 5, and earn yourself a big fat mention here on the blog! And really, what could be better than that?

Tuesday, November 12, 2013

Krab Mold

Krab Mold
contributed by Bryce Westervelt, Selden, NY
So it's four days til payday, and Dr. Husband hasn't given me my grocery budget, and I had a hankering for a bagel with lox, but couldn't afford lox, so I got imitation crab meat (henceforth known as "krab") thinking that any old fishy thing plopped on top of cream cheese would suffice.

I was wrong, in case you were wondering.

No sooner had I bemoaned my fate on Facebook (oh, hey, did you know the Kitschen has a Facebook page? Like us!) than loyal reader Bryce sent me a recipe to use up the rest of my krab meat.

Oh, hey, and you still have time to contribute to Bryce's kickstarter!

This isn't technically a retro recipe, as krab meat was first introduced in Japan in 1973. As you probably already know, Alaskan pollock is commonly the main ingredient of krab, often mixed with egg white or other binding ingredient, such as the enzyme transglutaminase. Crab flavoring is added (either artificial or crab-derived), and a layer of red food coloring is applied to the outside.

So, here's the recipe:
8 ozs imitation crabmeat (finely chopped)
3/4 cup green onion (finely chopped)
1 cup mayonnaise
11/2 tbsps worcestershire sauce
1 tsp garlic powder
3 tbsps cold water
11/2 tbsp unflavored gelatin (1 envelope)
10 3/4 ozs cream of mushroom soup (1 can)
8 ozs cream cheese

Mix first five ingredients together. Heat soup and cream cheese together until cheese is melted. Remove from heat, let stand 5 minutes. Stir into crab mixture. Dissolve gelatin in water*; stir into mixture.  Pour into mold.  Chill at least 4 or 5 hours.

*It doesn't say so here, but you'll have to heat the gelatin mixture to dissolve the granules before adding it to the mixture. It's science, you know!

Not that this was terribly hard to put together, but for the same amount of trouble you could dump everything (minus the mayonnaise - in fact, I'm not even sure why the mayonnaise is here in the first place) into a crock pot, turn it on low, and be done with it. Serve it with crackers as a hot dip. Not that the resulting cold mold isn't delicious, as you'll see below, but - I mean, hot cream cheese with meat. What could be more wholesome or natural?

Let's see what Dr. Husband thought:

Our Rating: One Screaming Husband!
(all dishes are rated from one to five Screaming Husbands. One Screaming Husband equals a happy home where all problems are solved during cocktail hour. Five Screaming Husbands signals the beginning of divorce proceedings.)

Sunday, February 24, 2013

(Someone Else's) Aunt Sue's Chicken

Aunt Sue's Chicken
contributed by Sue Hansell, Columbus, Oh.

I wasn't going to post again so soon, but I'm bored, and hungry, and hydrated enough to prepare for the sudden ingestion of a week's worth of sodium.

I have dim childhood memories of eating what was always referred to as "Aunt Sue's Chicken", as well as a careworn, hand-written recipe in a lovely cursive script, titled "Aunt Sue's Chicken", and so I naturally assumed that the titular "Aunt Sue" was my own Aunt Sue, who was my grandmother's sister and lived with her for several years during my childhood.


BUT. Finally getting up the energy to read the recipe, I find it signed by "Sue Hansell", not my Aunt Sue and, in fact, not any Sue I ever heard of.

My crack Googling skills tell me not only that everyone apparently has an Aunt Sue that makes chicken, but also that this recipe, which combines chicken, dried beef, bacon, and mushroom soup, is not unique at all, but is apparently, as the kids would say, "a thing".

Nonetheless, here is the recipe, transcribed from the handwritten original:



Line bottom of 9x12x2 inch pan with dried beef.

Place skinned and boned chicken breast on top of dried beef.

Place 1/2 strip of bacon on top of each piece.

Mix together 1 cup of sour cream and one can of mushroom soup. Spread on top of chicken.

Bake uncovered at 225 degrees for 3 hours. I serve with minute rice and green peas and biscuits or rolls. I usually put light meat in one casserole and dark meat in the other. So use whichever kind of chicken.

Sue Hansel

Ingredients bought for this recipe: All of the above

With no measurement for the chicken or dried beef, I just used my best guesses. I bought a package of skinless, boneless chicken breasts (though Aunt Sue contradicts herself later in the recipe, I suppose I could've used "whichever kind of chicken") and 4 packages of Buddig pressed beef (I only used 2, so be thrifty!)  

In a nod to the modern healthy lifestyle, I bought fat-free sour cream and a can of mushroom soup with a "healthy request" sticker on the front, though I don't know that it's any different from the regular mushroom soup.

FYI, combining 1 cup of sour cream with 1 can of mushroom soup mysteriously results in about a gallon and a half of gelatinous goop, so you'll have plenty to go around.

I was skeptical about the low temp/3 hour cook time, but followed the instructions dutifully. Also following the instructions to the letter, I served the dish alongside rice and peas, and crescent rolls.



What we thought: I assumed that the low and slow cooking, along with the protective layers of beef and bacon, would result in a mouthwateringly moist piece of chicken, and indeed Husband proclaimed his piece to be so.  Mine, however, was as dry and chewy as chicken breast is wont to be.

I'm not sure of the purpose of the dried beef, other than to add salt.  It didn't add much flavor to the chicken, or if it did it was overpowered by the bacon. Which is not a bad thing.

The mushroom soup - well, I think we can all agree that you could glop a ladle full of mushroom soup onto a pile of horse manure and make it palatable.

But all those good things mixed into one dish? Meh.  Lots of textures, not enough individual flavors. I'd give this one a pass, ladies, unless you're trying to weasel out of ever having to host another bridge club luncheon.


Our Rating:
Three Screaming Husbands
(all dishes are rated from one to five Screaming Husbands. One Screaming Husband equals a happy home where all problems are solved during cocktail hour. Five Screaming Husbands signals the beginning of divorce proceedings.)