Sauerkraut Jell-O (1938)!

Sauerkraut Jell-O (1938)!
The Internets

Stick with me here, and try to follow my train of thought: I knew we were having bratwurst for dinner. Not the puny white deli bin kind, but the big, fat, sausage-y manly kind.  I knew that Husband and I both like a bit of sauerkraut with our German meats.  I knew that Husband is, quite likely, now addicted to Jell-O. I knew, from my careful study of gelatin cookery, that there would likely be a method by which one could combine Jell-O and sauerkraut.  And whaddya know, there is!

Thanks to my crack Googling skills I quickly came across a 1938 recipe for "Sauerkraut Jell-O", which can be found in print in Mama's in the Kitchen: Weird and Wonderful Home Cooking 1900-1950. 

Here's the recipe as I found it (but for my purposes, I halved all amounts):

1/2 lemon, juice of
1 (6 ounce) package lemon Jell-O gelatin
1/8 teaspoon salt
1/8 teaspoon salt
1 cup boiling water
2 cups sauerkraut

Dissolve a packet of lemon jello in one cup of boiling water. When cool add sauerkraut, lemon juice, salt and paprika. Fill individual molds or cups. Chill. This recipe will make six individual molds. At serving time, remove from molds. Cut into any desired shapes and use as a garnish for salads or cold meats.

Based on another version I found, I also decided to add pimiento and carrot garnish. You know, as one does.

It didn't help.

If you've made it this far without retching, you're surely curios about what Husband thought, no?

You'll be relieved to know that the remainder of the dish went down the drain and Husband got good old-fashioned sauerkraut with his bratwurst.

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.)

Swedish Meat Ring!

Swedish Meat Ring
Electric Blender Recipes p. 149

A recent second hand shop find was the charming "Electric Blender Recipes", by Mabel Stenger, copyright 1952. Ms. Stenger has included a lovely dedication:

To Fred Waring

An outstanding musician, a fine person, a good friend,

creator of the Waring Blendor

If you're young, or an uncultured barbarian, you may not know that Fred Waring was an influential bandleader and choral director from the 1930's onward, and yes, he was a financial backer and promoter of the Waring Blendor (which is spelled that way on purpose, so no smart remarks.) My own family has a long and storied history with Mr. Waring and his Pennsylvanians, and my own hoped-for career in corn belt crooning was cut short only by the untimely death of Waring just as I graduated high school.

Ms. Stenger exclaims that, "Working with electric blenders has been a pleasant and exciting experience, of which this book is the joyous fruition...our results have proved conclusively that the electric blender is not a luxury gadget but a useful, practical piece of household equipment...[if] you demonstrate the wonders of your blender to neighbors, friends, and guests, you may discover that you have generated such enthusiasm that until they own a blender you cannot keep your in its appointed place on your kitchen counter!"

And so, we come right to it...The Swedish Meat Ring. HOW COULD I NOT MAKE IT?

I have no idea if people in Sweden eat, or ever ate, anything resembling the Swedish Meat Ring.  Though after ABBA and IKEA, I suppose anything's possible.  Here are the ingredients you'll need:

1/2 pound liverwurst

1 1/2 cups tomato juice

1 envelope unflavored gelatin

1/4 cup cold water

1 thin slice onion

2 tablespoons lemon juice

1/2 teaspoon salt

2 teaspoons sugar

1/2 teaspoon dry mustard

6 stuffed olives

1/4 cup diced green pepper

Coarsely cut liverwurst and place in glass container of electric blender. Add tomato juice and gelatin, which has been softened in the cold water 5 minutes and then dissolved over low heat. Add remaining ingredients in order given. Cover container and turn on blender. Run until contents are smoothly blended, about 30 seconds. Pour into lightly oiled 1-quart ring mold. Chill until firm. Serve in molded on cold platter, surrounded and filled by crisp salad greens. Makes 6 to 8 servings.

I'm a great lover of liverwurst, so the central feature of this recipe didn't fill me immediately with revulsion, as it surely did to most of my reading audience.  I was a little more hesitant about the addition of tomato juice, actually, as everyone knows that liverwurst (when eaten on a sandwich) must be paired with yellow mustard, not tomato catsup. 

I'll spare you the fascinating and scientific process of working with unflavored gelatin, since I already covered it.  I'm sure, also, that there's some science behind the admonition to add the ingredients in the order given, so I did.

The blended result was surprisingly liquid-like. I had expected to arrive at a highly-viscous glop that would take me forever to clean up, but it poured right into the mold very easily, and a quick rinse cleaned the blender just fine. 

The final product, once chilled, lacked a certain....visual appeal.  I mean, imagine the color of liverwurst, with a tinge of tomato juice mixed in.  Kind of like something that was either passed painfully of surgically removed from your body, that you're probably grateful to be rid of. My own addition of paprika sprinkled on top didn't help matters. No matter how people in Sweden eat, or how tastes in America have changed since 1952, it's still going to look like that. No telling what Bridge Clubs of the day must have thought when served this for their luncheon.

But what you're dying to know is what husband thought, right?

What we thought: Finally, something he didn't love (or at least kind of like)!  Surprisingly, "too salty" seems to be the biggest complaint. If you're tempted to try this at home, I'd suggest eliminating the added salt (you'll get enough from the liverwurst and tomato juice, I'd imagine.)  I might even be tempted to use lemon Jell-O as a base instead of unflavored. But eliminate the added sugar if you do.

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.)

Special-ish Edition: Cucumber Dream

Cucumber Dream
Joys of Jell-O p. 66, adapted by Dr. Bobb

I was torn about writing this up as a regular post, or as a special edition...the recipe originated in the "Joys of Jell-O" recipe book which is, one might say, my literary muse. I varied the recipe to the extent that I used an ingredient not available to mid-century housewives, but since husband didn't know the ingredients I did a standard blind tasting. Also, I have been laboring under the impression that the recipe was actually called "Cucumber Dream", but just now in looking up the ingredients I see that it's actually called "Cucumber CReam."  I'm going to stick with my own title, if it's a; the same to you, since I changed the recipe and all.

Whatever your feelings on cucumber, you may or may not feel revulsion at the thought of encasing it in gelatin.  It seems to show up in the most unexpected of places (cucumber martinis, forcrissakes!) these days, so my audience may shrug their shoulders en masse and carry on with their lives.  I went into this thinking it would be cool and delicious on a hot summer's evening, and that's exactly what it was. And husband....let me tell you something, ladies, if you want to please your man, start feeding him a steady diet of Jell-O.  He can't go two days without it, I'm not even kidding.  He makes it himself now, if I'm not quick enough on the ball.  I don't know if three's anything I could put into a mold that he wouldn't gratefully accept (but I'll keep trying, don't worry).

So, the recipe as it originally appeared:

1 package (3 oz.) Jell-O Lime or Lemon-Lime Gelatin

1 tsp. salt

1 cup boiling water

2 tblsp. vinegar

1 tsp. grated onion

Dash of pepper

1 cup sour cream

1/2 cup mayonnaise

2 cups drained minced cucumbers

Dissolve Jell-O Gelatin and salt in boiling water. Add vinegar, onion, and pepper. Chill until very thick. Blend in sour cream and mayonnaise. Then fold in cucumbers. Spoon into individual molds. Chill until firm. Unmold on salad greens. Makes about 4 cups, or 8 side salads.

I made this on a whim, so found myself without lemon or lime Jell-O (I know, right?  Like garlic and onion, lemon Jell-O is something one should always have in the house!) and I didn't have any sour cream either. But I did have a box of "Melon Fusion" Jell-O.  So here's my altered recipe:

1 package (3 oz.) Jell-O Melon Fusion Gelatin

1 tsp. salt

1 cup boiling water

2 tblsp. vinegar

1 tsp. grated onion

Dash of pepper

3/4 cup mayonnaise

2 cups drained minced cucumbers

Dissolve Jell-O Gelatin and salt in boiling water. Add vinegar, onion, and pepper. Chill until very thick. Blend in mayonnaise. Then fold in cucumbers. Spoon into individual molds. Chill until firm. Unmold on salad greens. Makes about 4 cups, or 8 side salads.

Also, as you can see, I just made one large mold.  I can't be expected to pull out my individual molds unless there's company to impress and/or horrify.

The video tasting:

Our Rating: Zero 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.)

Special Edition: Rainbow Jell-O Cake!

Rainbow Jell-O Cake
adapted by Rachel Perlow

In honor of GLBTQ Pride Month, as well as the forthcoming Supreme Court decisions on Prop 8 and DOMA (as I write, they're still putting it off as long as they possibly can...) I bring you the shimmering delight you see above you, the fabulous Rainbow Jell-O Cake!

Now, as my mother would say, making this cake "ain't for sissies". You will need a good 4 1/2 hours of constant attention, so I'm sorry ladies, it's not the kind of recipe where you can complete a step then go to the other room and watch your stories.  This needs constant tending and attention, so if you're not up for it, don't even start.  That being said, I wouldn't be averse to you sitting in a nearby breakfast nook with a highball and cigarette, thumbing through People magazine while you create your masterpiece.

The ingredients you'll need:

8-3/4 c Boiling Water
7 pkg flavored Gelatin, 1 each of the 6 different colors of the rainbow, plus one extra, either red or purple
1-1/4 c Vanilla Yogurt (smooth and creamy works best), or sour cream, or cool whip

The first thing you'll do is line up your colored Jell-O boxes next to five large cups and 1 quart-size bowl or measuring cup. Put each Jell-O color in its own cup, and whichever color you bought two of goes in the quart bowl.  You can probably do whatever you want order-wise, especially if you're doing the highball method, but for authenticity's sake I urge you to do the colors in rainbow order, which you'll all remember is Red-Orange-Yellow-Green-Blue-Purple.  So, if you're starting with red, as I did, then purple will be the color you buy double of.

Into each cup put the Jell-O, and 1 1/4 cups boiling water (2 1/2 cups for the double batch).  Stir each color until the Jell-O is completely dissolved. I suggest a separate stirring implement for each cup, to avoid cross-contamination. You should end with an artful display of colorful liquids like so:

Lightly spray a 10-cup Bundt pan with cooking spray, wipe out, and off we go!

Beginning with your first color, pour 3/4 cups of the dissolved Jell-O into the pan.  Chill in the fridge for about 15 minutes, until the Jell-O is set but not firm (it should slightly stick to your fingers when you touch it. So keep your hands clean.)

While the first layer is chilling, stir 2 tablespoons of your binding agent (yogurt, cool whip, whatever; I used vanilla yogurt) into the remaining liquid mixture.  You should arrive at a Play Doh-hued mixture like thus:

Make sure to whisk or stir all the lumps out!

Pour the creamy mixture over the set layer. You'll want to either spoon it in, or pour it slowly over the back of a spoon, to avoid breaking the layer below. I'll demonstrate!

Chill the creamy layer, again until firm but not set.  I can't emphasize this enough. If you wait too long, your layers won't bind.

Repeat the above steps for each successive color. You'll find that each layer takes less and less time to firm up, which is why you must pay careful attention!

When done, you should have twelve alternating clear and creamy layers.  Refrigerate overnight. Sorry, this is non-negotiable, you can't expect to whip this up in the morning for your evening Pride march.

The unmolding will be a harrowing experience, I suggest having a helper on standby.  I set the bundt pan on a plate to chill, then when it came time to unmold, set the serving plate on top, then had Husband help me to flip it.  You'll also want to give your mold a ten-second swirl in a sink of warm water before unfolding, to loosen it up.

If your heart is true and your intention clear, you too will have a glorious and sickeningly-sweet rainbow cake to impress your next gay gathering (I mean, I'm not saying that the gays have completely co-opted the rainbow - this would also be suitable for children's birthday parties or Noah's Ark-themed Church functions, I suppose.)

Old-Fashioned Cole Slaw

Old-Fashioned Cole Slaw
Joys of Jell-O, pg. 58

I didn't set out for this blog to become entirely about gelatinized versions of your favorite dishes, but it does seem to be shaping up that way, doesn't it?  I'm going to have to do a little more research into this, but I'm starting to believe that gelatin, in particular Jell-O brand (America's favorite!) can change one's brain chemistry so that one starts to crave it, as Husband has been doing lately.  In fact, we almost came to blows because he requested a classic fruit-cocktail-in-Jell-O dessert, and I, being an already-busy homemaker, tried to half-ass it, and was chastised for not presenting a dessert that was just so!

And then came the miraculous day- we were eating cole slaw, alongside some grilled bratwurst. Husband had been discussing his hopes that another gelatin dessert would be forthcoming. And then he uttered a phrase that will live in legend in our household for eternity:

"Is there a way to put cole slaw in Jell-O?" 

Because, I mean, of course there is, there's a way to put anything in Jell-O, as anyone knows who's spent as much time thumbing through 1962's The Joys of Jell-O as I have.

So, let's get right to it, shall we?

1 package (3 oz.) Jell-O Orange-Pineapple, Lemon, or Lemon-Lime gelatin

1/2 teaspoon salt

1 cup boiling water

1/2 cup cold water

1/2 cup mayonnaise

1/2 cup sour cream

1 teaspoon grated onion

1 tablespoon prepared mustard

2 tablespoons vinegar

1 teaspoon sugar

3 cups shredded cabbage

1 tablespoon parsley

2 tablespoon pimiento

Dissolve Jell-O Gelatin and salt in boiling water. Add cold water; then blend in remaining ingredients. Chill until slightly thickened. Pour into a 1-quart mold or individual molds. Chill until firm. Unmold. Makes about 4 cups, or 8 side salads.

This is so simple to put together, it almost felt like cheating. In fact I did cheat a little bit, by using a bag of already-shredded cabbage instead of shredding it myself, but I figured the convenience cooker of the 60's would have done the same had it been available.  My nod to authenticity was using Duke's mayonnaise and French's yellow mustard. And, of course, I used lemon Jell-O, which is always the go-to flavor if you're given the option.

What we thought: Since Husband knew the ingredients already, I decided to spring the dish on an unsuspecting but good-natured dinner guest, alongside a baked chicken.  The tasting went something like this:

   Guest: It's like Cole Slaw, but better, cause there's this extra creamy, lemony thing.

   Husband: It's creamy, it's lemony, it's got the crunch of Cole Slaw, but it's not watery like Cole Slaw.    
   It's so creamy and delicious! (several "mmm's" follow this on the recording)

   Guest: I want this on my barbecue sandwiches from now on instead of regular Cole Slaw.

   Husband: Try it with the chicken, it goes great with the chicken.

   Guest: It is very good with the chicken.

I think I can claim success, and to think that even I was scoffing at this one.  But it works wonderfully, and this is coming from someone who doesn't even really like regular Cole Slaw at all.  Try it, ladies, at your next backyard party, and I bet you'll be the talk of the neighborhood!

Our Rating: Zero 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.)

Egg Balls

Egg Balls
submitted by Mrs. Charles Waring
Charleston Receipts p. 27

I'm sure there's a "which-came-first-the-chicken-or-the-egg" joke in here somewhere, but it's not coming to me.

As mentioned last time, a recent jaunt through Pilot Mountain, NC, snagged me a 1950 copy of "Charleston Receipts", still available in a recent edition on Amazon, if you're interested. With treats like the above, as well as "Mrs. Alston Pringle's Calf's Head Soup", "Hog's Head Cheese", and "Ham Paste", how could you resist?

As to the book's title, my crack Googling skills tell me that receipt and recipe both derive from the Latin recipere, "to receive or take". Receipt was first used in medieval English as a formula or prescription for a medicinal preparation (Chaucer is the first known user, in the Canterbury Tales of about 1386). The sense of “a written statement saying that money or goods have been received” only arrived at the beginning of the seventeenth century.

Recipe is the imperative, "take!", from the same Latin root. It was traditionally the first word in a prescription, heading the list of ingredients. This was often abbreviated to a letter R with a bar through the leg, the origin of the standard "Rx" abbreviation in pharmaceutical circles. Recipe has been used alongside receipt since the eighteenth century in the sense of cookery instructions, gradually replacing it over time. 

It’s by no means entirely defunct even today. It was used on British television, up to the late 1990s, on  Two Fat Ladies, featuring Clarissa Dickson Wright and the late Jennifer Paterson, who invariably spoke of receipts. It is also said with regularity by my mother.

So, on to the Egg Balls.  I had a house full of company when I made them, and, being by now a minor regional celebrity, the prospect of Egg Balls being made caused quite a bit of excitement, as one would imagine, one guest even insisting on observing the creative process from start to finish.

The recipe:

4 eggs

1/2 pound butter

Salt and red pepper

Worcestershire sauce

Celery seed

Bread crumbs

Cream hard boiled eggs with butter. Season to taste with red pepper, Worcestershire sauce and celery seed. Make into balls, put in ice box to set, then roll in rich bread crumbs that have been browned in oven. Equal parts of mashed fish and a few pinches of chopped parsley may be added to creamed eggs and rolled in bread crumbs. Makes 16-18 balls.

A couple of disclaimers: I didn't have celery seed, so I used celery salt. I also used bread crumbs right out of the box, assuming that modern technology had eliminated the need to brown them myself.  

I also opted out of the mashed fish suggestion.

What we thought: My guests, for some strange reason, were over the moon with this dish. (But they're young, they lack the life experience to discern a really fine canapé.) The Egg Balls were so popular, I'm not sure Husband even had a chance to try one. As for me, it's not something I could exactly complain about. They taste like egg on buttered toast, if you took the egg on buttered toast, rolled it into a ball, and stuck it in the freezer for 15 minutes. I suppose 1950's hostesses needed something familiar-tasting-yet-oddly-too-cold to serve to guests in the days before you could buy 1500 pinwheel sandwiches at Sam's Club.

Our Rating: Two 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.)

Twofer: Bleu Cheese De Luxe Mold w/ Lazy Man's Old-Fashioned

Bleu Cheese De Luxe Mold
Joys of Jell-O page 74
Lazy Man's Old-Fashioned
Contributed  by Samuel Gaillard Stoney
Charleston Receipts page 12

My secret dream of creating a buffalo-chicken-inspired Jell-O mold recipe - oh wait, it's not a secret anymore, is it? - came one step closer this week, with the Joys of Jell-O approved Bleu Cheese De Luxe Mold. I wasn't sure if Bleu Cheese, an essential ingredient in any buffalo chicken-inspired dish, would hold up to gelatinization, but thankfully we can all rest easy on that front.

Auto-correct didn't change "gelatinization", so I'm assuming it's an actual word.

"Joys of Jell-O", uncharacteristically, didn't have an exuberant sentence describing the thrill your guests would get from tasting this dish, opting instead for a flat "This mold is delicious as spread for crackers or apple wedges or as a salad."  Period the end.  Regardless, I was anxious to test the viability of bleu cheese, as well as to use my beautiful new individual  copper molds which I scored for 75 cents each at an antique store in Pilot Mountain, NC, the oft-overlooked neighbor to Mt. Airy, birthplace of Andy Griffith, and the inspiration for TV's Mayberry.  Pilot Mountain is, of course, the inspiration for the frequently-mentioned Mt. Pilot, but today is forgotten by the tourists who flock to Mt. Airy, which has fully embraced its pop culture bonafides. But the real Pilot Mountain after which the town is named cuts an imposing figure on the landscape, and is worth a visit if you're in the area.

Pilot Mountain, North Carolina

Now, for the recipe:
1 3-oz. package Jell-O Lemon Gelatin
1 cup boiling water
1/4 cup cold water
1/4 cup dry white wine
1/2 cup sour cream
1/2 cup crumbled bleu cheese
2 cups finely diced unpeeled red apple (optional)

Dissolve Jell-O Gelatin in boiling water. Add cold water and wine. Then blend in sour cream. Chill until very thick. Stir in cheese and apples. Pour into a 1-quart mold or individual molds. Chill until firm. Unmold on lettuce and serve with crackers or apple wedges.

To the above I took the liberty of adding bacon bits. Because bacon.  And I did use the optional diced apple in the mold.

What we thought: Husband loved this, probably more than anything I've yet made.  I had four individual molds, and offered some to overnight guests who happened to be in town.  One, with a known dislike for all sweets including fruit, didn't care so much for it.  The other loved it.

I myself could have done without the apples.  Once I had a taste of savory, I wanted that taste only, which the apples interfered with. Maybe skip the apples in the mold and follow the suggestion to serve it with apple wedges. Or, maybe forego the bacon, to cut down on the saltiness and not create such a clash of flavors?  Though foregoing bacon is not in my nature.

To accompany the mold, I mixed up a couple of Lazy Man's Old-Fashioneds, from "Charleston Receipts", a copyright 1950 cookbook also scored at the antique shop. The recipe:

1 tsp. orange marmalade
3 dashes angostura bitters
1 finger light rum or whiskey
crushed ice to fill glass

Stir until it tastes right; add spirits, if necessary, to the result.

You can see in the photo that I veered from the instructions; I used two fingers of bourbon, and shook the concoction with ice so it could be served in a martini glass.  I also used cranberry-orange marmalade, because it's what I had in the fridge. I'm not going to rate the drink, because it's a drink. What's not to like?

Our Rating: Zero 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.)