Burnt Flour Soup

Horatio:            My Lord, I came to see your father’s funeral.

Hamlet:             I prithee do not mock me, fellow student, I think it was to see my mother’s wedding.

Horatio:            Indeed, my Lord, it followed hard upon.

Hamlet:            Thrift, thrift, Horatio. The funeral baked meats did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables.

Hamlet Act 1, scene 2

When Hamlet sardonically remarks that “thrift” is the reason for his mother’s hasty marriage, he uses it in the modern sense — meaning to be frugal, or thrifty. But 300 years before Shakespeare used it, thrift meant a fact or condition of thriving; to thrive. It also meant prosperity; to have something set aside for lean times. Thence it came to mean economy. Hence the turn, from one thing to its opposite. 

This is just what has happened to the royal house of Denmark. With King Hamlet on the throne, the nation thrived — but slain, replaced by his brother, the country ceases to be healthy. The word with which many of Shakespeare’s audience would have been familiar was thriven.

What they would not have served at the funeral or wedding was burnt flour soup, which is basically glue with cheese, buoyed up with stale bread. It is truly a desperate meal, that goes beyond simply being thrifty, but hobbling together whatever you can to survive.

The Thrift Cook Book, Marion Harris Neil, 1919

Also from this book: Getting Ahead,  Vegetarian Meat, Walkie-Talkies

Apple Soup

Once upon a time in America the only apples you could find, should you be looking, were gnarly, bitter, wormy crabs. When the first European settlers came over, they brought with them apple trees, but not being used to the new climate and soil, they did poorly. When you bring a brand new plant to an ecosystem you also need to think about how that plant will reproduce. The early settlers hadn’t considered a lack of honeybees for pollination when they packed their ships. So they brought honeybees and different apples and tried again until some survived, and again and again until more survived. Eventually, America had enough apple orchards to make cider for everyone to drink. No-one ate apples back then, as most apples were downright inedible. They made good cider though.

John Chapman, AKA “Johnny Appleseed” would collect apple pips from slush piles outside cider mills in Allegheny County, Pennsylvania in the autumn, and float them downriver to establish small orchards along the Ohio, which was then still the frontier. Once the settlers started moving west, and needed apple trees, his were mature enough to sell to them. Over time, the old world apple genes mixed with the native apple genes and produced hardier trees.

The original Golden Delicious tree in its protective cage.  (1931)

Thus did the Apple become American. Once in a blue moon the right combination of genes will produce an apple tree with delicious apples you can eat. This was the case with the original Golden Delicious tree, which grew in Clay County, West Virginia. Every Golden Delicious apple you have ever eaten comes from a clone of that tree.

The ABC of Jiffy Cookery, The Peter Pauper Press, 1961

Playing The Spoons

What’s astonishing about this 1960 ad for Campbell’s tomato soup isn’t that youngsters can be persuaded to actually eat a bowl of it, or how unfeasibly close their bowls are placed, or their matching oddly formal outfits, or even their oddly androgynous haircuts (are they boys? girls? one of each?), but that they both demonstrate, at such a young age, perfect form when holding their spoons.

While it is entirely possible that they are simply well-trained professionals who can maintain a pose while a director puts the spoon in their hand, it seems unlikely that a toddler could affect such poise without spilling. (Of course, who’s to say that the “soup” is actually a liquid; it could be dyed and dried Elmer’s School Glue for all we know.) But just look at the child on the right: it’s as if he (or she) had years of practice eating soup with a spoon (yet not enough maturity to be able to knock a pair of scissors out of a barber’s hand).

The look he (or she) is giving his (or her) sister (or brother) appears to be judging her (or his) reaction to the soup before he (or she) tastes his (or her) own spoonful. But it could also be a look that says “and I take it you looked over the residuals and made sure we’re getting the 12%, yes? Because I have a very important meeting with my broker as soon as this nonsense wraps and I’m dying for a drink. How does it taste? As bad as it looks? Because it smells like shit.”

Campbell’s Tomato Soup Ad, 1960

Getting Ahead

In 1919, the average housewife had to have at her disposal far more kitchen skills than the average lady today.

For example, she had to know how to remove the brains from a head, pluck out an animal’s eyeballs, and excavate its nose and hairy parts for small bones. She had to be able to peel a tongue and remove all the meat from the cooked head.

Yesterday's housewife did not have the convenience of  canned sheep's head.
This one proudly notes that it contains no preservative. Think about that.  

 She would have learned these techniques by watching her mother, and her mother would have done the same. The house would have smelled of simmering sheep’s head. There was no air conditioning.

That is all.

The Thrift Cook Book, Marion Harris Neil, 1919

Also from this book: Vegetarian Meat, Burnt Flour Soup

Martha's Sweet and Sour Tongue

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What A Load Of Bull

In August of 2011, an interstate ramp just outside Nashville was closed because a Greyhound bus had accidentally disgorged three canisters containing bull semen packed in liquid nitrogen onto the highway, where they lay gently smoldering, emitting a “foul odor.” The bus driver had no idea that some of his cargo had fallen by the wayside, which should increase your confidence in traveling by Greyhound.

The precious load, as it were, was worth at least $80,000, and would have made its journey from Columbus OH to Laredo TX unremarked had it not been for this unfortunate incident. Because the canisters cannot be flown, they have to travel on land, and apparently going by Greyhound is the most expedient way to send them.

While the canisters continued on their journey, newspaper editors enjoyed the most amusing headline meetings of their careers covering this story. Load Prematurely Ejaculated Off I-65 etc.

A sneak glimpse into the world of artificial insemination is illuminating not simply for the mechanics, but for the vocabulary of the trade. Bull semen is sold by the straw, and you can order them online as you would any other commodity, by selecting the sire by name. Oh, and what names!

Here’s a list of current Beefmaster bulls handled by Bovine Elite, LLC:

Black Desperado

Black Diamond

Bullet Proof

Celebrity

Centurion

French Connection

Commando

Delta Force

El Dorado

Excelsior

L Bar

Levi’s Ladd

Maverick

Rustler

Top Gun

Here’s a picture of Bullet Proof. He’s probably not bullet proof, but he is a handsome hunk of steak. A straw of his semen (perhaps with which to make this lovely recipe for Bull Shot Soup) will set you back a cool $100.

And you thought truffle oil was expensive.

The Golfer’s Cookbook, Rose Elder, 1977

Also from this book: If Henry Kissinger Was Petite, Pretty And Black, Booze Cake, Clean The Refrigerator Stew

Sliceable Soup

Some things are liquids and some things are solids and some things are gasses. This is basic science. Some things can go from being one to another under certain circumstances, usually a change in temperature.

Tomato soup, is by its very nature, liquid. If you, on the other hand. prefer yours to be a solid, then this recipe is right up your alley.

Standby Tomato Soup Mold

This recipe calls for mixing canned soup with gelatin, then adding cottage cheese, mayonnaise, chopped celery, green pepper, radishes, walnuts, and green onion. Put this mixture into a mold and let set.

Homemade is Better, Better Homes and Gardens, 1981

Heads, Plucks, Shanks and Scrag-Ends

It is a well-known fact that the poor, or “The Great Unwashed” as they like to be called, prefer to eat the crude remnants of meals that their betters, “The Mostly Washed” and “The Squeaky Clean,” find gracing their dinner tables on a regular basis.

The poor, it has been found, do remarkably well on a diet of gruel, rinds, crusts and scraps  —and on special occasions enjoy dishes concocted entirely from foraging weeds, wild roots, and hedgerow berries, perhaps seasoned with a mouse or starling the cat has brought in.

The Criminal Element aren’t content to wait for the charity basket, and are often caught poaching larger game such as raccoons and squirrels from the vast tracts of private property owned by God’s Chosen People. For their crimes they are whipped and placed in stocks in the town square so that Honorable Guildspeople can pelt them with excrement.

Hence the name.

A Plain Cookery Book for the Working Classes, Charles Elmé Francatelli, The Scolar Press, 1852

Also from this book: Mutton Chops, What Pluck!. How (Not) To Make Coffee, Take A Deep Breath..., Stuffed Up, Bee Stings, How To Make The Most Of Your Pig Before It Is Killed, Faggots

Mock Turtle Soup

Tenniel's witty interpretation of a Mock Turtle

The Victorians loved their turtle soup. They loved it so much they ran out of turtles.

If the Victorians were good at anything, however, it was tinkering, and getting around troublesome problems like things running out. Things hadn’t run out before, because the machinery for eradicating them hadn’t been developed, though a few species Victorians found delicious were rapidly discovering that the rifle was an instrument well-suited to reducing their ability to find a mate. The Dodo, the Passenger Pigeon, the Buffalo — not big fans of the rifle. Whales, which seemingly filled an ocean so large as to supply them into infinity, found themselves speared unendingly on the points of harpoons. Giant sea turtles were not nearly as quick as those sent to catch them.

 So enterprising cooks invented Mock Turtle Soup out of what they had at hand: namely, lots of calf’s heads, horns, hoofs and tails. Animal husbandry was really taking off, with domestic species being bred to produce larger, better-tasting, and more docile versions of themselves on farms increasingly dedicated to the factory means of production, and since the people they fed worked in factories, there was far less time to butcher an animal at home and render the tough bits edible for hours and hours over an open flame.

Tinned food was a blessing for working Moms, and Mock Turtle Soup was one of their favorites. It’s almost identical to Calf’s Head Soup. Actually, it is Calf’s Head Soup, but that doesn’t sound nearly as appetizing. The Victorians weren’t afraid to call a thing according to its composition or destiny, and knew they weren’t fooling anyone if a little bit of fakery was involved, so they had a lot of mock this and mock that’s.

 Those witty Victorians Lewis Carroll and John Tenniel were very up-front about the mock turtle in Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, the perfect creature for a world of make-believe. Tenniel’s illustration gives the hapless creature the appropriate parts, making of it a Frankenstein of calf and turtle. Here it is being addressed by the equally patchwork Griffin-like thing. The Victorians took too much laudanum by far. It helped them cope with the damp, the whalebone corsets, the primitive dentistry, the grime, the constant childbearing and puerperal fever, the handlebar mustaches, the parlor games and the terrible, stifling ennui.

 Mary Harris Frazer offers several recipes for Mock Turtle Soup in her Kentucky Receipt Book of 1903 — as do all cookery books of the era — plus one for Calf’s Head Soup and even one for Mock Terrapin Soup. They are all much the same, and usually include the distinctive addition of hard boiled egg yolks and lemon.

Kentucky Receipt Book, Mary Harris Frazer, 1903

Also from this book: This'll Make You Breathe Easier, To Remove Freckles, Toast Water, Backbone, Egg Wash

Potty Mouth

Before indoor plumbing afforded most of us proper flushing toilets, people relied on outhouses during the day in which to conduct their business, and the chamber pot at night, when it was dark out, and the threat of being attacked by wolves, bears, raccoons, stray cats, errant moose, mice, snakes, spiders, bats and highwaymen (even in the city) made the thought of roaming too far from the bedroom unappealing.

Far more preferable was to relieve yourself in the company of your siblings or spouse, hoping not to wake them, then storing the used pot back under the bed where it sat the rest of the night waiting to be emptied in the morning. Life smelled different back then, what with the raw sewage and camphorated mothballs.

The chamber pot was designed therefore in the most practical shape possible to “catch and carry.” Made from china with two handles and nicely decorated (if you were rich and had burly maids to lift them) or enameled tin with one handle (if you weren’t), antique chamber pots have become quaint collector’s items.

The trouble is, they look a lot like soup tureens. The difference between them is that usually the tureen has some kind of pedestal or legs to hold it up from the table’s surface to prevent scorching, whereas the chamber pot is less likely to tip over and spill with a wide, flat base.

Dear soup-makers of the world: do not serve your creations in the wrong one. Also, do not sprinkle paprika on avocado soup because it looks like someone in the last stages of tuberculosis coughed on it. Also, refrain from making avocado soup in the first place.

Soup, Salad, Sandwich Cookbook, Ideals Publishing Corp., 1981

Also from this book: One Is Such A Lonely Number, Frosted Sandwich Loaf, Penis Salad

Beer Cheese Soup

Ah…1948, possibly the last time it was possible to get away with selling the idea that a trailer could be your dream home, parked in a small lot on cheap land next to many other trailers occupied by like-minded individuals just wanting to get away from it all and relax without the burdensome toil of housekeeping. 

Why bother with a kitchen when all you really need is a microwave and can-opener? China plates chip over time, but paper ones can simply be used and tossed with ease. And who wouldn’t want to dine al fresco every day in the company of your neighbors, instead of having to sit bolt upright on hardback chairs around a dining table you’re afraid to scratch? You need never make a bed that folds away — or wear anything other than your most comfortable clothes because let’s face it: it isn’t like you’re going to run into your boss walking the dog are you? In Florida and the Southern States the weather is always sunny so you can do away with those bulky winter coats and shoes that take up so much closet space. Why, you can even go barefoot if you like! It’s like a permanent vacation!

Where was I? Oh yes: Beer Cheese Soup. Garnished with everybody’s favorite (and always on hand) popcorn! So easy to assemble and chances are you already have the ingredients in a box somewhere —perhaps the same box you keep the spare batteries and bandages in case of a hurricane. And if not, well it can’t be that long a walk to the nearest gas station where they are sure to have everything on hand. You, your spouse and four children can eat like kings any day of the week! 

Microwave Cooking Convenience Foods, Publication Arts, Inc., 1981

To Bisque Or Not To Bisque — That Is The Question

Whether tis nobler in the gut to suffer

The shrimp and veg of outrageous soup

Or to take arms against whoever serves it

And by opposing end them. To die, to sleep —

No more —and by a sleep to say we end

The stomachache, and the thousand unnatural shocks

That flesh is heir to. Tis a consummation

Devoutly to be wished. To die, to sleep —

To sleep — perchance to dream; ay, there’s the rub,

For in that sleep of death what dreams may come

When we have shuffled off this dinner date,

Must give us pause. Etc.

Speaking of tragedies, I think we have stumbled upon the weapon Claudius used to knock off poor Hamlet’s Dad: a bowl of Buttermilk-Shrimp Bisque, cooked up, no doubt, by the evil Gertrude.

The eagle-eyed among you will notice from the recipe below that this is not, strictly speaking, a bisque at all. It’s a cheat’s bisque for people so lazy they think an appetizing soup can be made by tossing some raw veg, canned shrimp, and milk in a bowl. They can’t even be bothered to heat it.

It’s a little known fact that Ophelia excused herself from a light lunch with her future mother-in-law to drown herself rather than delve into a serving.

The food stylists at Better Homes and Gardens have helpfully provided two goblets of Chilled Beet Soup poisoned wine to wash it down with.

Next time you want all of your dinner guests to go mad and slay each other in a frenzied bloodbath, serve this.

 Buttermilk-Shrimp Bisque

1 teaspoon onion salt

2 teaspoons prepared mustard

½ teaspoon sugar

½ teaspoon dried dill weed

Dash hot sauce

4 cups buttermilk

1 can small shrimp

½ cup chopped green pepper

1 small cucumber

½ cup chopped celery

 1 jar diced pimento

In bowl, mix onion salt, mustard, sugar, dill weed and hot sauce. 

Stir in buttermilk, shrimp, cucumber, green pepper, celery and pimento. 

Cover, chill.

Soups & Stews Cook Book, Better Homes and Gardens, 1978