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!"

Smiles all around!

Studies show that the act of smiling actually makes you feel more positive, whether you want to or not. So it only stands to reason that chewing up a grin which you've shoved in your own smiling pie hole couldn't help but lift your spirits! 

Here are a few options for dopamine boosts, starting with meat.

According to Pink Floyd wisdom, eating your protein is a requirement if you want your pudding. In this case pudding=cookies.

If you're like me, and salty is more your jam, check out this flavorful grinning fish.

Of course this isn't the only swimming smiler. We all know and love the tasty bite-size snack that smiles back.

And for smiles AND songs, you really can't beat a banana.

Now that you've stuffed yourself with grins, pass on the joy. Smiling is infectious!

Pancake Races

Flipping flap jacks has never been so much fun!

20th Century Wieners! The Dogs Kids Love to Sprinkle with Parmesan

Everyone loves hotdogs. Fat kids, skinny kids, kids who climb on rocks. (Click it. You know you want to.)

Armor says it. Oscar Mayer says it. It must be true.

Cutco obviously believed it as well; it includes a whole chapter titled "Wieners."

Here are some kids enjoying a string, as if to prove the songs.

And here's a recipe in case your kids are bored with the same old dog in a bun. (Or cut up into unchokable chunks if they are little.)

If they are anything like my kids when they were young, they'll want nothing to do with this dish. But then, I was a bad parent and didn't teach them to eat what was placed before them. Hopefully you can learn from my mistake and tell them to clean their plate or lose out on the Jello.

I wonder what the 21st Century Weiner will be like?

Suggestions appreciated.

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.