Crisco Fever

In cooking, B.C. refers to the year 1910 and stands for Before Crisco. In all of human history up to that date, if you wanted a solid fat you had to rely on an animal for either lard or butter, both of which worked well but came with the kind of problems city dwellers have: they don’t keep well. If you lived on a farm you could feasibly make your own butter and gather your own lard as and when you needed it, but for the large numbers of new urban tenants for whom refrigeration was not always at hand, spoilage, especially during the summer months, was a problem.

The answer was hydrogenation — adding hydrogen molecules to fats to keep them solid at room temperature. Early on it was known as crystallization, and originally applied to cottonseed oil (which was far more common than soybean oil) for the purpose of making soap. The folks at Procter & Gamble Company — the detergent kings of Cincinnati — took a keen interest and because hydrogenated cottonseed oil was not inherently toxic, decided it could be a hugely profitable food that would solve the nation’s melting problem.

Crisco (short for crystallized cottonseed oil), was introduced to the market in 1911 and because it was a brand new invention, had to be sold to cooks who had only ever known animal fats. P&G cleverly gave away small cookery books with every purchase featuring familiar recipes in which any use of butter or lard was replaced with Crisco. Much space was given to explaining this new scientific wonder and its advantages to the modern cook and kitchen — including the welcome news that because of its high burning point (455 degrees), Crisco could be used for frying without creating smoke, and that because it was “pure” vegetable whose chemical composition was not affected by cooking, was easily digestible.

This of course was in the era before we knew the dangers of trans fats and their role in clogging arteries and raising blood sugar. Crisco was cheap to manufacture and could be done in fully automated factories to ensure a uniform and predictable product. Because it didn’t spoil, it leant baked goods a longer shelf life, enabling the rise of pre-packaged foods. The language in these early cookery books introduces the housewife to stearine, a fatty acid which gets its name from the Greek for tallow. Indeed, stearine’s solid waxiness lends itself to soap-making. Stearic acid can be found today in almost every aisle of the supermarket, in edibles and non-edibles alike.

Oleine — oleic acid — claimed by P&G to be the healthiest and most easily digestible of the three main fats (the other being linoline) is what Crisco is made from, and sounds familiar because it forms the basis of oleo, which has become synonymous with margarine (which is actually made from margaric acid). Despite its genesis as a vegetable fat, it is now known that oleine (a substance also found in human adipose fat and given off by decaying bees among other things) has been linked to breast cancer, whereas stearine, though it is an animal-based fat, is in fact more completely digested and has a better effect on cholesterol levels.

The inclusion of Crisco in every single recipe persists in cookbooks produced by their parent company today (now J. M. Smucker Co., the jam-makers), and where found in anything outside pastry-making (in which the Crisco replaced the traditional lard) or frying, appears highly suspect, added merely to increase use of the product rather than lend the food any discernable benefit.

Take these sandwich recipes for example. Note how butter is pushed into the barely noticible background as a flavor-enhancer for the bread (and try cutting an eighth-inch slice off ANY loaf!)

Mrs. Neil’s Cooking Secrets, The Procter & Gamble Company, 1924

Also from this book: The Importance of Being Ernest, Let Them Eat Cake

The Importance Of Being Ernest

Children can be so difficult. They’re always insisting on wearing stiff white collars and combing their hair. Ernest (we’d prefer to call him “Ernie,” but he simply insists) once tried to have a maid flogged because he found a stain that had not been properly eliminated on the back of his collar. We had to tell her to limp for a while to pretend we’d done it so he’d calm down. You should see the looks he gives if he catches anyone slumped at the dinner table. Back perfectly straight or else. He refuses to drink water out of anything less than a stemmed glass with a lemon wedge and can at times be overly critical with the arrangement of the centerpiece, especially if it contains elements out of season or not absolutely balanced. He’s a sensitive, artistic child.

His sister Rosamond (she prefers “Rosie”) is rather heroic sharing a bedroom with him. Oh, the paces he puts her through. She’s less picky but does have a taste for sweets — pies, doughnuts and things of that sort. We sometimes worry that she will become plump but honestly we feel she has to grin and bear it to such an extent with her brother that we indulge her. He won’t have any of that — preferring instead to cap his meal with a slice of aged cheddar and perhaps a perfectly ripe fig.

We used to have a great deal of trouble with Rosie’s nightmares — she’d wake up screaming in absolute terror for no discernable reason, clutching her doll and shaking. The doctor suggested it was indigestion caused by cook using butter in the pastry, so we switched to Crisco and now she sleeps peacefully all through the night like a lamb. Of course, as soon as he heard about his sister’s digestive failings, Ernest moved into the guest bedroom and has remained there ever since.

We hear strange sounds coming from behind his door. From the blueprints he carelessly left on his desk it seems he’s installing a greenhouse for his orchids.

Mrs. Neil’s Cooking Secrets, Marion Harris Neil, The Proctor & Gamble Co., 1924

Also from this book: Crisco Fever, Let Them Eat Cake

What a Douchebag

Let’s not pretend what “french fries” stand for here.

If you want your husband’s french fry to stand upright, be sure your basket isn’t too “greasy.” Be sure your chicken is up to snuff too. He’ll find it tasty. Maybe you’ll also find it tasty should you have the opportunity to find out. I’m sure your husband will want to watch. Perhaps he has something “all-vegetable” in mind. Look: in that last photo he’s showing you exactly what he has in mind for dessert!

Somewhere, the person who designed this ad is still doubled over with a hand clamped tight over their mouth in disbelief they actually ran it.

Crisco not only has no cholesterol — it has no shame.

Woman’s Day, November 1979

More Yuckylicious ads: The Big Squeez, Behold The Versatronic, Gold Medal Memories, The Seven Year Itch, You Say Carat; I Say Carrot (Let’s Call The Whole Thing Off), Mad Men, It’s The Real Thing (What Is, Exactly?), Putting the Special in Special K

Sausage Breakfast Bake with Crisco

 Call 911! There’s been a terrible accident! Some poor woman’s fingers were severed during the preparation of this delicious-looking Sausage Breakfast Bake. There they are embedded in the cake. Looks like the misfortune happened as she was pouring the batter and they’ve browned nicely in the oven. I don’t know about you, but nothing gives me a hearty appetite for breakfast like cake slathered in blood.

Oh — wait — it’s not blood; it’s Apple Maple Syrup. This healthy concoction is made thusly:

In a saucepan combine sugar and cornstarch; stir in the syrup reserved from a can of apple slices and cook until thick and bubbly. Stir in butter and maple syrup.

This glorious breakfast tableau comes from Crisco’s Favorite Family Foods Cookbook. This is not a joke. Such a book exists. The main aim is to incorporate as much Crisco shortening into ordinary foods as possible.

Crisco is the type of lard that long-distance swimmers use to slather themselves in to prevent hypothermia (and aid in glide?) when attempting feats of endurance that kill lesser humans, like crossing the English Channel (death by P & O Ferry) or swimming from Cuba to the US (death by shark or Coast Guard). It is not the sort of thing one readily admits to actually ingesting.

This breakfast menu would have you using Crisco in the Sausage Bake and the Sunburst Coffee Cake. The book as a whole would have you slip it into everything you can think of and many things you couldn’t. If you are really lucky, you might actually get through the entire book without having a heart attack (unlikely).

A note on crockery: plates and dishes with inner serrations like the one in this picture are a bitch to clean up. We won’t mention the baked eggs.

Crisco presents Favorite Family Foods, The Procter & Gamble Company, 1973

Also from this book: They Serve Coke at Parties, Don't They?, An Eye For An Eye