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?

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.)

Special Edition: Sky-like Chili

Sky-like Chili
contributed by Dr. Bobb, Sharpsburg, MD

Much as I enjoy digging up disgusting mid-century recipes with which to torment Dr. Husband, the realities of today's economy dictate that I occasionally make something that won't immediately be sent down the garbage disposal. As it's a lovely, crisp fall day outside the historic test kitchen, I've decided to share with you my man-pleasing chili recipe.

BUT YOU GUYS, IT'S SUPER SECRET SO DON'T DO ANYTHING STUPID LIKE POST IT ON FACEBOOK OR YOUTUBE OR ANYTHING.

If you grew up in the kitsch triangle of Ohio-Indiana-Northern Kentucky (or, oddly, Ft. Lauderdale, Florida) you may have enjoyed the regional delights of Skyline Chili, also known variously as Empress Chili, Gold Star Chili, or the all-encompassing Cincinnati-style. I myself, although an Ohio native with ties to Cincinnati (well, my great-great grandfather owned a whorehouse there in the 1800's, does that count as "ties"?) never heard of it until well into my college years, but then I was hooked.  If you find yourself geographically isolated you can find the real article, occasionally, in the freezer section of your local grocery, but my version is better, and I've found enough ways to cut corners that you can have it assembled and warming on the stove with enough time to swig down a couple of cocktails before husband gets home from the office.

The dish originated in the 1920's in Cincinnati's Greek immigrant community, and retains a decidedly Mediterranean spice combination. The soupy concoction is traditionally served either over spaghetti or on hot dogs, topped with mounds of cheddar cheese, and if you happen into an authentic Cincinnati Chili restaurant, you'll find suggestive menu options like the basic Three Way (noodles, chili and cheese); Four Way (all of the above plus either chopped onions or beans); and for the adventurous, the Five Way (the whole kit and caboodle.)  A word of caution: Steak 'n Shake restaurants have menu items called Three Way, etc., but their chili is definitely NOT exotically-spiced in the Cincinnati way, and if you've ever had that version thinking that's all there is, then think again.

So, here's the recipe, perfected with trial and error by me:

1 1/2 pounds ground beef
1 medium Vidalia onion, chopped and divided*
2 garlic cloves, minced**
2 15-ounce cans tomato sauce plus 1 can water
1/2 ounce unsweetened chocolate, grated***
1 tablespoon chili powder
1 teaspoon black pepper
1/2 tsp. salt
1/4 tsp. each cumin, turmeric, allspice, cinnamon, cloves, coriander, cardamom
9 ounces spaghetti
1 15-ounce can kidney beans (optional)
1 pound cheddar cheese, finely shredded ****
Oyster crackers for garnish
Tabasco sauce (optional)

In a large skillet, brown the meat with the garlic and 3/4 of the chopped onion, storing and breaking up the meat as it cooks. Drain fat from pan. Add the tomato sauce and water and bring the mixture to a boil. Add the chocolate, salt, and spices. If time allows, add the spices one at a time, while talking to yourself and looking at the splash guard behind the stove as if you're doing a cooking demonstration on the Food Network. Cover and reduce heat to low, stirring occasionally, while you read a magazine or watch a story on tv, cocktail in hand.

When husband gets home, cook the spaghetti and heat the kidney beans, if desired.

To make each serving, start with a layer of spaghetti; top with hot chili, warm beans and/or chopped onions. Pat on shredded cheese so that it starts to melt. Garnish with oyster crackers and hot sauce.

*Use yellow onions if you must, but I use Vidalias in every instance where onions are called for. Maybe I've been spoiled by living in the south for a while, but they seem to be available year-round.

**I feel no shame in admitting that I use pre-minced garlic out of a jar. Also, 2 cloves is a general guess. I've never met a dish that suffered by having "too much" garlic added.

***You can grate your own chocolate if you're especially ambitious, but I gave up the effort long ago. I usually use a tablespoon of cocoa powder, but this evening I didn't happen to have any in the house, so I used a couple of mini Hershey bars leftover from Halloween. In past pinches I've used chocolate morsels, Swiss Miss cocoa mix, and chocolate pudding. Do what you need to do, ladies, but the chocolate is essential.

****I suppose, at this point, I need not advise you to buy pre-shredded cheese.

No rating this week, as I know that dishes like this are how I keep my marriage stable, but I WILL show you the proper assembly method:

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.)