Mamie's Million Dollar Fudge

This entry was written when Dwight D. Eisenhower was President. Come back tomorrow to see what Tricky Dick's wife was up to while Mamie made fudge.

Mrs. Eisenhower has never made any pretense at being a cook. But like most people with no flair for food, she has impractical specialties. Hers are fudge and mayonnaise. Fudge is still one of her favorites and this family recipe is popular at the White House.

Million Dollar Fudge

Boil six minutes:

4 1/2 cups of sugar

Pinch of salt

2 tablespoons butter

1 tall can evaporated milk

Put in large bowl:

12 ounces semi sweet chocolate (chocolate bits)

12 ounces German sweet chocolate

1 pint marshmallow cream (2 jars)

2 cups nutmeats

Pour boiling syrup over ingredients in bowl: beat until chocolate isa ll melted, and pour in pan. Let stand a few hours before cutting. Store in tin box.

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!

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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On Gingerbread and One Humped Camels

My how things have changed.

According to the Food Timeline, gingerbread has been around for centuries, but has shifted and changed with the times, as most things do. 

For example, in the 1930s it was credited with saving marriages.

All Alice had to do was buy a little black satin number and make the dessert her questionably devoted husband enjoyed as a boy in his plantation home. Whoosh! All lustful thoughts of Bonbon Betty Thornton fly out the window!

Here's another happy couple thanking Brer Rabbit for their marital bliss.

The creepy bunny seems to have pulled the kids in too.

Rabbits are not the only animals to be associated with molasses, and therefore, with gingerbread.

Enter the dromedary. 

And not just ANY one humped camel. This one is an angelic dromedary who talks to pictures of the mothers of dead presidents.

Good old George just can't resist Momma Washington's gingerbread.

Apparently Queen Elizabeth  liked gingerbread men, which eventually increased their popularity, and changed the recipe. This waving gingie interested me because of the mysterious holes in his hands:

Why does he have holes in his hands?

Gingerbread houses appeared on the scene after Hansel and Gretel were popularized. What child wouldn't love a book with a cover like this:

(Night terrors anyone?)

Here's a version that I might really try:

It's made from the real stuff rather than the cardboard slabs of "gingerbread" bought in a kit at Le Boutique Big Box. 

Humans could actually consume it.

And that brings us to today. Or at least, to 2006, when the world's largest gingerbread house was constructed.

I brought a plus-sized roll of Pillsbury Gingerbread Cookie dough the other day, with no plans for what to do with it. Maybe I'll create a mini replica. I think Brer Rabbit, the Dromedary, and the Doughboy would all be proud.

Rejoice! Saltine Toffee Crispy Bits

I got this recipe from a church lady years back, and made it with my kids in the early 2000's to give as Christmas gifts. It is easy, and absolutely delicious.

Saltine Toffee Crispy Bits

1 1/2 sleeves of saltine crackers
1 cup butter
1 cup light brown sugar
1 cup milk chocolate chips
1 cup chopped walnuts 

Cover a rimmed cookie sheet with foil and spray with nonstick spray. Arrange the crackers to completely cover the cookie sheet. Melt butter and sugar in a saucepan until foamy (about 3 minutes). Pour the syrup over the crackers and spread with a spatula to coat. Bake in 350 degree oven for 10 minutes. Do not overcook! Sprinkle the chocolate chips over the top. Return to oven for another few minutes to soften the chips, then spread to cover the entire top. While chocolate is still soft, sprinkle nuts over top and press in lightly. Let cool and refrigerate until hardened.

Admittedly, I am afraid of boiling sugar, I but pushed through it, and it was worth the confrontation. Several steps are not suited for little kidlets, but they can certainly help with measuring, arranging the saltines, and breaking up the candy when it's done.

Variations of this recipe substitute pecans or almonds for the walnuts, or use varying amounts of chocolate, toffee bits, etc. My advice: try this version once and you'll be addicted, then move on to variants.

I couldn't find an old-timey version of the recipe, but I did find some groovy saltine ads for you.

Happy candy making!

Sugar Plums Oh Sugar Plums, What Pray Tell Art Thou?

The first recipe in this month's holiday extravaganza led me on a quest.

Not being much of a candy maker (I'm afraid of boiling sugar), I can't quite tell what the texture of the candies is like, but their snowy whiteness makes a great backdrop for the neon-colored candied fruit of the era.

We always had little plastic tubs of the stuff in my childhood kitchen. I never liked it, but it was a holiday staple, as you will see from recipes to come throughout the month.

I imagine this candy to be very sweet, slightly chewy, and studded with the weirdly textured candied fruit flavors of the past. But they aren't what I ever imagined sugar plums to be.

And so I set out to find out what a sugar plum is. Turns out this is not a straight forward question.

Here are a few examples of the most common version found on the interwebs today:

Sugar Plums avec Saveur

Sugar Plums from Nourished Kitchen

Sugar Plums from Alton Brown

In contrast, Epicurious says that they are candied or dried fruits surrounded by fondant.

Other sources say they are a comfit; a confectionary item usually small in size which is arduously coated in multiple layers of sugar:

The Christmas Food Timeline

A Boke of Gode Cookery

So I'm still confused.

Perhaps I should ask the Patron Fairy for answers:

Look! She's wearing candied cherries! Surely she will know.

I'm off to Google her contact info...