Ring, Ring! Telephones in the kitchen

I love, love, love this picture. The colors, the chic cozy sweater, the TV dinner. 10/10. No notes.

That girl obviously had a busy day, and is catching up on the world the old fashioned way while wrangling a meal for herself and a hungry mystery date who waits off camera.

Kitchen phones like her red version became nearly ubiquitous in the 1950s and 60s, due in part to Bell's relentless marketing teams.

Here's one sample of how they did it. 

Beautiful AND practical!

Mom looks so relaxed, prepping a backyard luau in that fancy apron.

This ad's also pretty great: 

Look how happy this mom is, stirring away at her copper-bottomed pot while Jr. climbs through mouse droppings! She's living the American dream, where every family wants a wood-paneled station wagon and an outfit to match the kitchen phone.

Then there's this one, from a few years later:

The model is doing a lot of heavy lifting in this shot, perched as she is in front of an iconic Georges Briard enamelware coffee pot. 

(Sometimes licking whipped cream from a finger tip is just licking whipped cream from a finger tip. Other times it's a phone invitation to a key party.)

Phone marketing was sometimes helped by other companies. Check out the psychedelic 1970s esthetic in this advertisement for...lip gloss?

Her lips may have been moist, but given the era there's a good chance she was too high to be able to dial with that thing pasted on top. Especially since the phone is upside down.

Of course we still like to fancy up our phones. 

(You can click on the image if you'd like to buy this phone case or others like it Purchases help support the work of the Cookbook Love team!)

The more things change, the more they stay the same. People still like to decorate their phones, and parents still try to oversee their kids' phone usage. 

There were strict telephone rules in my hubby's house when he was growing up, and competing for chat time with four sisters must have been a struggle. Declan's always been cool, so I'm sure he didn't look like this kid, but there's something about their vibe that reminds me of the persecution teens endured when simply trying to talk to a crush or arrange the next nickel bag.

Privacy was non-existent, despite the long cords we trailed around corners and wound around ourselves. 

Eventually the cords ended up getting all wanged out like this one, which might be part of the reason dad got so mad:

Thankfully, cords largely disappeared when wireless handsets became the norm. Check out this image of a dad using the Phone Relief hands-free gadget!

Today we carry our phones everywhere, placing them on countertops if we need to wash lettuce or flip burgers while talking. And despite all the changes, this ad speaks more truth than ever:

Need a recipe for Julia's poached eggs in aspic? No problem! Just look it up on your phone.

Thanks for changing the kitchen world, Bell Telephone!

The deceptive side of butteralikes

And they didn't even know it. She waited until after dark in daylight savings time, so no one would see.

She'd obviously been listening to Mrs. Filbert, who was a big fan of duplicity.

Here's a wedding shot of that happy couple.

You'd think she'd look happier. After all, her margarine didn't require pinching and kneading.

(PINCH THAT COLOR BERRY!)

At least her hands could rest easy, even if her mind couldn't. It was nearly miraculous.

So easy to spread, on husband or bread. 

Inspiring songs of joy like this one.

But at the end of the day, is the family really fooled? More importantly, is it worth risking Dad's wrath?

It seems safer trying to fool Mother Nature, and she's in charge of hurricanes. 

Oleo. 

Margarine. 

Buttery spread. 

No matter what you call it, it's good, good, good! And so is this cover art.

Happy Halloweeny!

 

For several years I threw a Halloween party with my ex. We were young back then, so the focus was primarily on beer, but I did my best to offer snacks sufficient to the task of soaking up alcohol. At one party, a guest wisely crashed at our house rather than driving home. He was quite ill the next day, and told his wife he'd been poisoned by our fish balls.

Reader, no such balls were served.

Weenies were part of the menu, though they were miniature and simmered in a vat of barbecue sauce. By the time the parties were over, they'd undergone some sort of unfortunate alchemy, shrinking and toughening until they were mere hardened nubbins of their former glorious selves.

I came across the image above, which offers festive alternatives to the saucy piggies I served back then. And I have questions.

There's a lot to unpack here, so let's break it down into components. First, the menu.

Initially it seems pretty straightforward. Harmless even. But why the ALL CAPS demand for skinlessness? And how does one create Jack O'Lantern carrots? And do we really need doughnuts AND Sherbet AND cake? 

Not to mention, WHAT ABOUT KETCHUP?

Moving on, let's talk about decor.

How does one attach a carrot tip to a hot dog? And is shoe polish food safe? And are those the Jack O'Lantern carrots of previous mention?

Next up, the ghost.

While I commend the creature for offering assembly instructions, the notes are missing a few key details. Do you cut a hole in the napkin? What do you tie it with? What are the arms made of? Is the ghost talking on the phone?

And finally, this creature:

"Red Hot Goblin" sounds like either a band name or the title of an extremely blue movie, but at least we know what the creature's arms are made of. 

It's been a wild week with lab monkeys escaping from crashed trucks, and people arguing about whether it's better to give out candy or actual food. But I have to admit that taping little masks on wieners was not something I expected to consider as a party activity. 

Whether you give it a try or not, I wish you a BOOtiful Halloween!

Aprons. Because No One Wants Cream of Mushroom on Their Pinstripe Trousers

 

Cooking is messy business. This guy knows it. You know it. I know it.

There's not always time for a man to change before supper, and guests arrive whether you want them to or not. Men have two options: risk your good slacks, or put on a gol darn apron. 

According to the container ad above, beer helps ease the shame of apron wearing. (Assuming you can figure out how to get the can open.) 

Some guys aren't into beer. Luckily, Don Draper brought back the glam of cocktails.

LOL, Galliano! I see what you did there!

Julia Child showed us the joys of cooking with wine, and this guy definitely got the memo: 

Not everyone drinks, so this little wifey is ready with an alternative.

Supportive wives are such treasures. They'll even help you tie your apron if you can't quite work out the process.

The wife below looks ready to giggle at hubby's carrot skills.

His trousers might be protected, but pants aren't the only things at risk of smears when men man the stove. This kitchen is a MESS: 

His wife should have tasked him with something significantly less complicated. Smart women start them simple.

Once your man has mastered "just add milk" cooking, he might be ready for actual recipes. In which case, have I got a cookbook for you!

This guy is ready. 

Wine? 

Check. 

BBQ tools? 

Check. 

Tactical apron? 

Check. 

The illustrations in the book are... exceptional. Here's one example:

The dude is salting a rotisserie apple and playing his belly like a drum with a wooden spoon. 

EVERY

WIFE'S

DREAM!

While not wearing an apron per se, he's covering what needs to be covered after making time to take off his trousers.

Let's all take a moment to recognize that aprons are a national treasure. Though in this case, fig leaves should probably get an honorable mention.

The sauce is the thing

 

Barbecue grills and smokers have become a hot commodity over the last decade, which means it's gotten harder and more expensive to keep up with the Smoky Joneses. But how much difference does the device make? Isn't it really all about the sauce?

The groovesome dude above sure thinks so. And apparently so does Andy:

He's not the only celeb from yesteryear doling out saucy advice. Here's Dick:

Apparently no one told him it's not about the thickness, it's about the magic in the bottle. This company did get the memo:

He's got the mumbo, ma'am. Now make like a light switch.

Did you know that magic isn't just for meat? 

Mmm mmm, each bite a curly mouthful of sweet and salty smoke sauce! 

Be a careful consumer whether you're pouring it in a noodle kugel or on a brat, because "Original" flavor is habit forming:

Kraft is crafty. They don't want you to crave just barbecue sauce, so they created a culturally inappropriate spokescharacter to get you hooked on another great product: 

The Whiz of Cheezez.

Whether you're meat grilling, beer swilling, cheese whizzing, magic wielding, or thickness bragging this Labor Day, be sure to sauce your barbecue up!

Candlestick Salad (That's what -she- said.)

I remember this recipe from an old children's cookbook read in years past, but when I checked the three I have in my library, it wasn't included.

As with the recipe for Prune Loaf (jello), I find the shifting societal trends reflected in cookbooks really interesting. In today's world, the only place this salad could be served would be at a bachelorette party.

I wonder when the shift away from phallic shaped foods (other than those served in buns) was complete? Early 1970s perhaps?

If the trend continues, might hot dogs soon be flattened?

Candlestick Salad

For each person allow 1 slice of canned pineapple placed on a lettuce leaf. Put one half a banana in the center, pour a little mayonnaise at one end, to represent the wax running down, with a small piece of red cherry for the flame. Use orange peel or green pepper for the handle.

Stove Love. It's a thing.

A few days ago we posted this amazing, fantabulous, dream stove on the Cookbook Love Facebook page:

The darned thing was apparently in competition with Kim Kardashian's butt to break the interwebs, judging by all the likes, shares, and comments that resulted. People tagged each other to call them in and see. People asked if it is for sale (sadly, we do not own it.) People commented in other languages so that we had to use a translator to make sure they weren't pitching discount sunglasses.

It was a glorious mayhem.

When I asked another vintage-loving FB group why this might have happened I got a few interesting responses. The first was that several people had watched as the post went viral, seeing it pop up in other groups. A couple termed it "amazeballs", which it is. Another person said that they had a "positive, visceral reaction to old ranges".

And that, apparently, is the power of stoves. Or of this stove in particular.

Stove love. It's a thing.

Pasta by any other name

I like it, this child likes it, and you probably like it too. Whether you call it pasta, noodles, or a feather in your cap, it's MACARONI!

There's a lot of richness to be found in vintage macaroni marketing. Take this little cardboard cutout:

When Fanny Folds speak, the whole world listens. 

Flavory. Firm. Tender.

The early Mueller's person might be less charismatic but they assure us of an absolute requirement in pasta making: cleanliness.

Eww. 

(I am however hungering to find out what "elbow spaghetti" looks like.)

The sanitary proclamations continue in this ad, though that message is drowned out by the fallacious claim in the blue stripe.

Meat.

From wheat.

For those who like their gluten meat lengthy, have I got a button for you!

Most of us don't care that much about length, we want efficiency, and this ad is all about speed of service:

We'll close with something a little more modern, but still focused on efficiency. This time, of cost.

Two kinds of meat (wheat, and mystery) with pickles as veg. All it needs is a splash of ketchup for fruit, and it's nutritionally complete. <Joking.> 

As the ad says, "Come on Mom, join the macaroni crowd!"