Party Pork Crown

Party Pork Crown
contributed by Mrs. Allie C. Woodcock, New Orleans, La.
Favorite Recipes of America: Salads, page 169

My most ambitious project to date - not only because of the challenge of getting one particular ingredient past Dr. Husband's discriminating palate, but also because another key ingredient hasn't existed for fifty years.

I've been sitting on his recipe for a while, precisely because it calls for celery flavored Jell-O. As mentioned before, Jell-O did briefly flirt with the idea of savory flavors (celery, Italian salad, seasoned tomato, and mixd vegetable) but apparently, the idea didn't catch on so well. Or did it?  Because here, in Favorite Recipes of America, we find a recipe, apparently a FAVORITE,  calling for celery flavor!

The recipe, as it was printed in 1968:

1 3-oz. package celery flavored gelatin
1 c. hot water
1/2 c. cold water
1 tbsp. cider vinegar
1/2 c. mayonnaise or salad dressing
1/2 tsp. prepared mustard
1/4 tsp. salt
1 12-oz. can pork luncheon meat, diced
1 89-oz. can peas, drained
Romaine leaves

Dissolve gelatin in hot water; stir in cold water and vinegar. Beat in mayonnaise, mustard and salt; pour into shallow pan. Freeze for 20 minutes. Spoon into medium bowl; beat until light. Fold in meat and peas; spoon into 4-cup ring mold. Chill until firm. Unmold onto serving plate; garnish with romaine leaves. Yield: 4-6 servings.

Also, let's address the elephant in the room: "pork luncheon meat" can mean nothing but Spam™, 'miright?

Spam™, as anyone reading this blog will certainly already know, is "ground pork shoulder and ground ham combined with salt, sugar, water, and sodium nitrate, stuffed into a can, sealed, cooked, dried, dated, and shipped...It needs no refrigeration. It will keep in its can until the end of time." (My facts and figures come from Jane and Michael Stern's Encyclopedia of Bad Taste, long out of print but well worth the ONE CENT that a used paperback copy on Amazon will cost you.) It was a staple for the Allies in wartime, and in fact Nikita Kruschev credited it with saving the Russian army from starvation.

As you'll see in the tasting video, I made up my own claim that Spam™was the most popular food in Korea; further research reveals that I may not have been so far off the mark. If anyone has any further clarification on that matter, be sure and let me know!

The bigger issue was how to replicate the celery Jell-O™... so here goes. I boiled some celery for a few minutes, then strained that water and used it for the 1 cup hot water in the recipe. Then in place of the called-for salt, I used celery salt. If you're tempted to duplicate the recipe at home, I will warn you that the celery salt will not dissolve AT ALL. It ends up as a kind of grit that settles in the bottom of the mold (what will be the top when you unmold it.)

Everything else came together easily, leaving me only with the dread of feeding Dr. Husband Spam™, which he's promised would be a five-scream offense. But, to my surprise...

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.)

Lime Turkey Mold

Lime Turkey Mold
Better Homes and Gardens "Salad Book" ca. 1969,  p. 111

As pretty as this looks, always remember that when gelatin is involved, looks can be deceiving.

I may as well own to the fact that, immediately after the tasting was filmed, Dr. Husband went straight to our tastefully-appointed guest bath and upchucked. IN MY DEFENSE, he had just finished a 12-mile run which he neglected to properly hydrate for. But it is perhaps telling that I'm not prepared to blame the upchucking entirely on that.

Better Homes and Gardens Salad Book helpfully recommends how Lime Turkey Mold might fit into a mealtime menu:

Menu: Apple Cider, Lime Turkey Mold, Popovers with Whipped Butter, Hot Fudge Sundaes with Nut Topping, and Beverage.

I neglected all of the above, with the exception of "beverage", which you'll see in the video.

I also used pre-packaged roasted turkey chunks, which might be part of the problem in this dish. I suggest leftover turkey that you've cooked yourself if you're tempted to make this at home - or just ditch the turkey altogether, and end up with a delightful dessert.

Here's the recipe:
2 3-ounce packages lime-flavored gelatin
1 7-ounce bottle (about 1 cup) ginger ale, chilled
2 cups diced cooked turkey
1 cup dairy sour cream
1/4 teaspoon ground ginger
1 16-ounce can pears, drained and diced

Dissolve gelatin and 1/4 teaspoon salt in 2 cups boiling water; cool. To half the gelatin mixture, slowly add ginger ale and 1/2 cup cold water. Chill till partially set. Fold in turkey. Pour gelatin mixture into 6 1/2 cup mold; chill till almost firm. Meanwhile, beat sour cream and ginger into remaining gelatin till smooth. Chill till partially set. Fold in pears. Pour over almost firm layer. Chill till firm. Serves 4.

I didn't have high hopes for this, and my suspicions bore fruit:

Our Rating: Four and a half 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.)

Frankfurter Salad Loaf

Frankfurter Salad Loaf
Better Homes and Gardens "Salad Book" ca. 1969,  p. 123

The "in" snack for teen get-togethers! proclaims Better Homes and Gardens Salad Book, above the recipe for this concoction.  And indeed, if my experience is any gauge, this is only an "in" snack in the sense that teens will eat anything you set before them, and eat all of it, and not complain.

But perhaps Frankfurter Salad Loaf has something of a timeless appeal, judging by Dr. Husband's warm reception.

I must admit that I didn't have very high hopes when reading the ingredients on paper, but once I started assembling the dish and realized I was dealing with the two greatest foods in the history of mankind - hot dogs and French onion dip - my hopes raised considerably.

Here you go, the recipe in all its glory:
1 unsliced loaf French bread, 18 to 20 inches long
4 tablespoons butter or margarine, softened
1 cup dairy sour cream
2 tablespoons dry onion soup mix
2 tablespoons mustard-style hot dog relish
4 or 5 frankfurters, thinly sliced
3/4 cup chopped celery 

Cut lengthwise slice from top of bread; set top aside. Scoop out loaf to within 3/4 inch of bottom and sides. Spread inside of loaf and cut side of top with butter. Wrap loaf in foil, leaving cavity uncovered. Combine sour cream, onion soup mix, and relish; stir in frankfurter slices and celery. Spoon frankfurter mixture into hollow of loaf. Bake at 375 degrees for 25 minutes. During last 5 minutes of baking, place reserved top of loaf in oven to toast. To serve, place top on loaf; cut loaf into 1 1/2-inch slices. Serves 12.

I will admit to not using the called-for half-pound of butter; instead I brushed the bread cavity with olive oil. (I'm certain it made a huge difference in my health after topping it with the hot dog-sour cream glop.)  I sliced the hot dogs into rounds, and as you'll see in the video, I maybe should have sliced lengthwise for ease of eating.  Cooking is so hard when there aren't accompanying pictures!

After a brief commercial message, you'll see that Dr. Husband was pleasantly surprised with the results:

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.)

Deviled Egg Mold

Deviled Egg Mold
Knox On-Camera Recipes, pg. 25

Like all mid-century housewives, I have a degree in English Literature that I never use.  Which leads to my first question - why isn't "deviled edges" spelled with two L's?

But I digress. Today's dish comes from 1960's Knox™ On-Camera Recipes, billed as "a completely new guide to Gel-Cookery".  Knox™, as you know, is unflavored, leading to all manner of exciting culinary adventures!

From the description of the recipe: "Eggs take on airs and the result teams up wonderfully well with sliced cold meats or poultry."

That's a little vague for me. I would have put, "Men love deviled eggs, and will eat them no matter what medium they're suspended in."

My only beef with this recipe is that it lacks mustard, which doesn't exactly scream deviled egg to me. More egg salad-y.  But feel free to experiment, ladies, the very nature of Knox™ gelatin means that your imaginations can run wild!

So, here's the recipe:
1 envelope Knox™Unflavored Gelatin
1/2 cup water
1 teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons lemon juice
1/4 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce
1/8 teaspoon cayenne pepper
3/4 cup mayonnaise
1 1/2 teaspoons grated onion
1/2 cup finely diced celery
1/4 cup finely diced green pepper
1/4 cup chopped pimiento
4 hard-cooked eggs, chopped

In a saucepan, sprinkle gelatin on water to soften. Place over low heat and stir until gelatin is dissolved. Remove from heat and add salt, lemon juice, Worcestershire sauce and cayenne pepper. Cool.

Stir in mayonnaise. Fold in remaining ingredients. Turn into a 3 cup mold or individual molds and chill until firm. Unmold and garnish with salad greens and serve with salad dressing.

You can see from the photos that I didn't bother with garnish or salad dressing. No need, ladies, because your man will dig into this with gusto. Witness the following:

Don't forget, if you have a beloved/disgusting recipe you'd like to see Dr. Husband try, send it in!

Our Rating: One 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.)

Molded Asparagus Salad

Molded Asparagus Salad
Better Homes and Gardens Salad Book, pg. 62

After my last disastrous adventure with canned asparagus, I probably shouldn't have wasted my time with this, but...well, the whole point is to make Dr. Husband retch, is it not?  Plus, I've recently received a lovely gift from a former student of the Better Homes and Gardens Salad Book, c.1969, which will feature prominently in the next few installments.

You might find it surprising that, having been raised in a home where fresh asparagus would be on the table even if it cost ten dollars a pound, that I would fail to turn up my nose at the canned variety. But I don't and there it is. I really don't mind it at all. Sometimes I'll just eat it right out of the can - in fact, that's how I prefer it.  Dr. Husband, however, is driven into a Hulk-smash rage, even at the notion that a can of asparagus may have found its way into the house.

Dr. Bobb Science Fun Fact: Does your pee smell funny after eating asparagus? If so, you're in good company - French novelist Marcel Proust famously wrote in 1913 that asparagus "transforms my chamber-pot into a flask of perfume." And one British men's club is said to have put up a sign reading, "During the asparagus season, members are requested not to relieve themselves in the hat stand."

About 22% of the population report a funny urine smell after dining on asparagus, a result of the vegetable's sulfurous amino compounds breaking down.  But wait, there's more!  Turns out,  scientists believe that EVERYONE'S pee is affected - but only 22% of us have the gene that allows us to smell it!  

Now, on with the show. Here's the recipe as it appears in print:

1 envelope unflavored gelatin
1 10-1/2 ounce can condensed cream of asparagus soup
1 tablespoon lemon juice
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 8-ounce carton cream-style cottage cheese
1/2 cup dairy sour cream
1 10-1/2 ounce can asparagus spears, drained and cut
1/2 cup chopped celery
2 tablespoons chopped pimiento

In saucepan, soften gelatin in 1/4 cup cold water.Stir over low heat til gelatin dissolves. Blend soup, lemon juice, and salt into gelatin; beat in cottage cheese and sour cream. Chill gelatin mixture until partially set, then fold in remaining ingredients. Pour into 4-1/2 cup mold. Chill til firm. Serves 5 or 6.

Some substitutions here: living as I do in the idyllic countryside, it was impossible to find cream of asparagus soup (if they even still make it anymore), so I used cream of celery.  Also, I couldn't find, and in fact have never seen "cream-style" cottage cheese, so I used small curd.  I'm also not a big fan of the "chill til firm and then add the rest of the ingredients" method.  I've tried it and don't notice much difference in the final product over the "mix everything all at once then go have yourself a cocktail" method, the key being to make sure your gelatin is dissolved correctly at the very beginning of the process.  I'm convinced the two-step process was invented by men to keep women from having time to think for themselves.

Anyway, the tasting went something like this:

Our Rating: Four 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.)

Parsleyed Ham

Parsleyed Ham
Family Recipe Card ™ Series, via VintageRecipeCards.com

In my never-ending search for disgusting dishes to taunt Dr. Husband with, I come across many excellent internet comrades who share the same fascination with our collective culinary past, including the delightful Vintage Recipe Cards. You should go there right away, as soon as you're done here, if you know what's good for you.

I know the above photo might most closely resemble something you'd step in while going for a midnight pee, after having fed your dog bacon grease, spinach, roquefort cheese, and baby food, but it is in fact a recipe with a decent pedigree. In fact, having initially forgotten where I stumbled upon it, my crack Googling skills led me to all manner of recipes with high-falutin' names like Jambon Persillé and Ham Hock Terrine. Though a major feature of the dish is parsley, which is a taste and texture that disgusts even my refined palate, the other primary ingredients - booze and meat - persuaded me to give it a whirl.

The recipe, as it appears in the original Family Recipe Card ™ Series:
2 cups diced ham, trimmed of all fat
1/2 cup parsley, chopped

1/4 cup green onion, chopped, optional
1 cup chicken broth
1/2 cup dry white wine
1/8 tsp. white pepper
1/4 tsp. dried tarragon leaves
1 Tbsp. unflavored gelatin
Lettuce leaves
Dijon-style mustard

Mustard Sauce: Mix 1/4 cup Dijon-style mustard with 1/4 cup chopped gerkin pickles
Tip: All chicken broth can be used in place of broth-wine mixture.

Preparation:
1. The ham can be cubed if larger pieces are desired. Add green onions, if used, to ham.
2. Heat the broth, wine, pepper, and tarragon.
3. Add ham mixture and simmer for a few minutes.
4. Reserve broth. Mix parsley and ham together. Dish the ham into 4 individual serving cups
5. Soften gelatin in small amount of water. Stir into broth, making sure it dissolves. Cool slightly until syrupy.
6. Pour equal amounts of broth over each ramekin. Cover and chill thoroughly.
7. Unmold onto lettuce. Serve with mustard sauce.

This seemed to take an awfully long time to go together, even with the cheat of using pre-cubed ham. And from my own taste, I'll tell you not to bother with the mustard sauce. It's too overpowering. I tried a little bit of this the next day, with a dab of mayonnaise, and it was much improved.  (Of course, I have been known to eat ham salad right out of the tub, so I may be biased. Still.)

Dr. Husband's tasting was not as traumatic as I'd feared:

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.)

Avocado Salmon Mold

Avocado Salmon Mold
Better Homes and Gardens "Salad Book" ca. 1969,  p. 107

A thoughtful former student recently gifted me the delightful 1969 of Better Homes and Gardens' Salad Book, which you'll be hearing a lot more about in weeks to come, because it's filled to the brim with gelatinous horrors with which to torment Dr. Husband. 

 (Full disclosure: today's recipe is actually called Salmon Avocado Mold, but since I said it wrong on the video below and am too lazy to re-shoot, you'll have to live with calling it Avocado Salmon Mold.)  

Better Homes and Gardens proclaims, in the recipe description: 

“A spectacular salad for a foursome is the Salmon Avocado Mold. Frosted with an avocado dressing, cut wedges are pretty on the plates. It’s a do-ahead beauty to make the hostess’ job easier.”

I don't know about the easier part. I must re-state my assertion that dealing with canned salmon is the most distasteful act that a housewife will ever have to deal with (apart from - you know - wifely duties).  I bought a more well-known name brand of canned salmon for this recipe, in the hopes that I could avoid the omnipresent bits of scale and one found in the off-brand, but my hopes were dashed immediately.  

The rest of the recipe came together fairly quickly (with the exception of the grated onion - help me out here, ladies, was one once able to purchase onion already grated, or was it always an onerous task?) 

So here we go, the recipe as printed:

1 envelope unflavored gelatin

1 cup cold water
2 tablespoons sugar
1 tablespoon lemon juice
1 tablespoon vinegar
2 teaspoons grated onion
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon prepared horseradish
1 16 ounce can salmon, drained, flaked, and small bones removed
1/2 cup mayonnaise or salad dressing
1/3 cup sliced pitted ripe olives
1/4 cup chopped celery

For the dressing:
1 large avocado
1/2 cup dairy sour cream
1/2 teaspoon salt
Curly endive

In saucepan soften gelatin in the cold water. Stir over low heat until gelatin is completely dissolved. Add sugar, lemon juice, vinegar, onion, 1/2 teaspoon salt, and horseradish. Chill till mixture is partially set. Fold salmon, mayonnaise, olives, and celery. Spoon into a 3 1/2 cup mold; chill till gelatin mixture is firm. To prepare dressing, peel and mash the avocado (about 2/3 cup). Blend together the avocado, sour cream, and 1/2 teaspoon salt. Chill. Unmold salmon salad onto serving platter. Spread avocado dressing mixture evenly over the outside of salad. Garnish with curly endive and a lemon twist, if desired. Makes 4 servings.

I will admit to being in a bit of a rush, so I didn't quite let the concoction come to a partial  set before adding all the gunk in.  But it did set up beautifully nonetheless.  I was a little dismayed that  my mixture didn't turn out as pink as the demonstration photo promised:

and even considered adding a bit of red food coloring, but didn't have any.

I also couldn't taste any horseradish in the final product, so if you fancy a spicier version, be sure to up that amount.

As I said, the dish firmed up beautifully (I left it overnight), and spreading the avocado frosting on was a breeze, even though the avocado I used wasn't quite as ripe as I'd have liked.  I was worried that the addition of salt in the frosting would make the whole dish too salty, but it didn't seem to bother Dr. Husband or I in the least.

In fact, ladies, he loved it, I think he liked it more than I did:

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.)