Bitter indeed

I've spent the spring in our new home watching mysterious plants pop up here and there around the small yard. Several types grew quickly and were getting large, so I researched them and discovered they were varieties of dock. You've undoubtedly heard of burdock, or encountered it in the hair of a beloved pet or young child. Dock tends to be aggressively invasive, so I realized it was time for them to go before seeds arrived and they took over.

I've had a longstanding interest in foraging and have nibbled bits of greenery and berries across the decades. All those experiments went well, and I thought small samples were harmless.

(Queue the foreboding music.)

I'd read a decent amount about dock, and knew they were used in lots of traditional medicines. Both leaves and roots were reportedly edible. So when I dug up a root like a fat white carrot, I thought why not give it a try? 

So I ate some. Not much. Probably a piece about the size of a quarter.

It did not go well.

I spent the night in the emergency room. 0/10, would not recommend. 

I've done more googling since coming home, and am still convinced what I ate was dock. It's not clear why I had such a bad reaction. 

As a way to vent my spleen about the experience, I decided to see what sort of vintage cookbooks or recipes might exist for the stuff.

And what, pray tell, did I find? 

I'm trying to imagine the mind of the artist who designed ads for this company, but each time I enter in I get scared and have to slam the door shut on it. But I'm pretty sure they're a close relation to Sweeney Todd.

Here's another of the company's idea of a good time:

Wha wha wha what???

Animals were featured in several ads. Like this inexplicable bit of imagery:

(Is she bleaching her children?)

Sometimes the ads focused on human children rather than puppies.

CHILDREN.

Like this poor wain, whose face seems to be saying, "Please mother, might I have something to eat?"

Then there's this child, who looks downright giddy in contrast. Perhaps they've already enjoyed a few sips of the elixir.

The back of the card is equally charming, plus packed with useful intel:

And then there's this. For which I shall offer no comments.

I'm still recovering from my bad decision making, and am tired. So I'll leave you with one final image:

Startling in its vividness. Shocking in it's timelessness. Ugly on multiple levels, though different from the ugliness of my emergency room experience.

The moral of the story my friends, is to be careful what you eat in your backyard, and who you hire to do your advertising. Blood purity just isn't worth it.

 

Mother's Day was yesterday, in case you forgot

In the world of Mother's Day advertising, including a date reminder seems crucial. Because, as this sweet example points out:

THERE'S NO HURT LIKE FORGETTING

Whitman's chocolates just weren't afraid to bring the guilt vibe.

The hubs and I have been chatting about whether norms have shifted, and if Young People are no longer slaves to the cultural expectations we grew up with about holidays like this one. Let's take a stroll through some ads which underscored our enculturation that celebratory action was required, and which included the date to help reinforce preparation timelines.

Colgate chose a kindler, gentler version of this message, if a bit braggadocios. 

Dairy products even got in on it, though this poor queen looks like she's warding off an attack.

Usually the ads focused on presents, which were frequently candy. But of course chocolates aren't the only gift option. Who wouldn't want a "rubber tyred shopping jeep"?

The gifts below might have come from the heart, but mom herself appears half-hearted.

Maybe she's just tired from dreaming up new casserole recipes to bake in those dishes.

Some gifts are both practical AND appreciated. I'd go bonkers for a mid-century Lane cedar chest if we didn't already have one.

Or maybe mom would just like some... meat. 

So she can cook it. 

For you.

But let's get back to Whitman's, whose marketing department eventually gave up on the guilt tripping, but still focused on the tangible, this time offering a how-to guide.

Last but not least, I'm still trying to figure out the message in the ad below, and the text is a bit too small for these tired motherly eyes to read:

If you have an idea about the scenario in play here, please post it in the comments. I'd love to read it.

Meanwhile, happy Mother's Day to all who should be celebrated!

Chilling moments in fridge history

After reading an old post on this blog, I popped down the vintage refrigerator ad rabbit hole and am going to pull you in too so I won't be alone. 

Here's where the goosebumps started:

The caption freaked me out a little. It reads like the title of a Twilight Zone episode, or a commentary of today's political climate. Either way, I'm scared. It makes me long for the days when we only had to worry about cameras in microwaves.

This ad is less menacing:

It still hints of some looming doom, but the trepidation is leavened by the idea that you can do something about it. You can defend your household. Or at least your leftover tuna casserole.

If the fridge in your house isn't up to the task of actual defense, it could always hide in plain sight, disguised as a bedspread.

Contact paper anyone? Decoupage? 

This ice box provides a different kind of camouflage, though there's no guarantee of safety for that tuna mac:

I've never seen anything like it, outside a hospital sandwich vending machine, or a diner pie-go-round.

My favorite part is the name, though. I'm adopting it as my new cussword stand in:

Rotafrig.

I'll proclaim it while evaluating just how much tuna I should stock up on, and where the heck I'll store it.

ROTAFRIG!

If you need a distraction from your own prepping, scroll through more fridging fun by clicking here. 

Enjoy! And prepare!

The year chocolate eggs are cheaper than chicken eggs

 

I stumbled across this image and couldn't help but marvel at its timeliness. Here we are in a state of national eggmergency, and somehow, the M&M/Mars company new, even back then, that we'd be here. 

But 'tis the season for purchasing basket candy, and the ad led me down confectionary lane, so I'm sharing some of what I found with you. First up, this guy. the chocolate bunny of my childhood. Hollow. Waxy. Delicious.

Next is a candy much loved by my hubs, though I'm not sure if it ever appeared in his basket.

This next ad reminded me of the Woolworth's in my home town, which featured a lunch counter and a checkout person who had a loooong curling hair jutting from their chin mole.

Perhaps that person looked like the one below, in younger days. Just as crazed, but less hairy.

This child looks spoiled. Despite appearances to the contrary, that's no Cindy Brady.

Perhaps that Cindy wannabe would have been happier if the bunnster delivered full-sized bars?

Or even a sacrificial PEZ dispenser. 

Abraham bunny might have some 'splainin to do once he let's the boy out of that box, but as for me, I prefer a softer, gentler, even slightly trippier candybration, like the one this friendly creature conveys.

 

Speaking of trippy, we return to the issue of eggs. 

Candy eggs of every variety. Let me know if you try them scrambled. It just might come to that.

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One more reason to make a muffin

A friend from my writing group brought homemade chocolate chip cookies to our meeting last night, saying they were a coping mechanism for managing the stress of egg prices, airplane crashes, and global unrest. In truth, we all looked a bit puffier than we did a few months ago. Food is so often a source of solace.

I'm not much of a baker, but there's something deeply satisfying about mixing up a dough or a batter, popping it in the oven, smelling the smells, and then biting into the warm rewards of those efforts. Our home is currently low-carb for health reasons, so defaulting to an afternoon of baking is more challenging now. 

As an alternative, I went on a hunt for vintage political cookbooks, but the results were disappointing. I did however stumble down a rabbit hole which I'll now invite you to enter: an explanation for why baking is such a comfort.

There are a ton of these little guys wafting around the internet. Most follow this model; a vintage kitchen with a female in period garb looking varyingly happy or deranged. Here are a few more examples.

But a few took a different spin, featuring gadgets, hedgehogs, sloths, and an unsurprising clutter of cats.

I didn't find the cookbooks I was looking for today, but I did discover these treasures, proving the paraphrased wisdom of the prophet McJagger:

One can't always get what one wants (like eating the rich), but one often finds that one does receive what one needs.

Ta-ta for now, I'm off to buy some flour.

Kitchen Snark Coloring Book

Do you love cookbooks? Need a distraction from the cares of the world? The Kitchen Snark Coloring Book is here to help! You'll find 50 pages filled with humor, wisdom, memories, and a touch of snark, all waiting for your creative flair. Color the stress away with this timeless book of vintage fun.

Details at KitchenSnarkFun

 

Love Day Goes Red

 Happy Valentine's from our corner of the world to your.

Cookbook of the Week: Mastering the Art of Outdoor Cooking on Your Gas Grill, circa 197?

 

The cookbook of the week is Mastering the Art of Outdoor Cooking on Your Gas Grill, just in time for a few more summer barbecues before the leaves start to change color.

While there's no copyright date in the book, we think it hales from sometime in the 1970s. Maxi skirts appeared in Paris in the 1960s, but didn't go mainstream until the next decade, and the cover model is sporting a particularly spectacular one:

Tune in to the Cookbook Love page on Facebook for pictures, commentary, and recipes from this book all week long!

Cookbook of the Week: Baker's Cut-Up Cake Party Book, circa 1973

The cookbook of the week is Baker's Cut-Up Cake Party Book, a little paperback cram-packed with ideas for celebrations and fancy, funny cakes around which to build parties.

Here's the front cover:

Tune in to the Cookbook Love page on Facebook for pictures, commentary, and recipes from this book all week long!

Cookbook of the Week: Magical Amazing JELL-O Desserts (1977)

The Cookbook of the Week is Magical Amazing JELLO-O Desserts, circa 1977!

Here's the title page:

Here's a video preview:

Want to see more? Check in with the Cookbook Love page on Facebook to see photos and recipes all week. Enjoy!