All Hail, the Shortage of Bacon

As if the election hubub weren't enough, the panic mill is screeching about a potential bacon shortage. Or at the very least, skyrocketing prices.

My advice: buy now, thaw later. And while doing both, please sing this song.

Cold or Hot, it's what's for Lunch!

If you've got guests coming, you know what to serve! Spam goes great with a pile of shredded iceberg. And when you add a side of pretzels, you can dip them in the cottage cheese and say that it's  the appetizer.

Don't forget; it's pure pork. Not sure what parts of the pig are included, but be assured that there no beef tongues are included.

Night Night Little Piggies

I started a new job this week, and I'm tired tired tired.

So before this little piggy trots off to bed, here are a few creepy vintage pork images found around the interwebs for your twisted viewing pleasure:

Shortcake: It's Not Just for Dessert Anymore

I have no idea why, but Diane Sawyer seems to have an opinion about this dish. Check it out:

http://abcnews.go.com/WN/page?id=13811704

She doesn't really seem the type to me. Not that I watch her much, but I picture her lunching on something like jicama salad on a bed of edamame ragu topped with candied free-range chicken.

Or does that seem harsh?

No offense to Ms. Sawyer intended. It's just a dish that sounds like it would be peddled to the stars. For all I know, she's a porkaholic.

As for the recipe, I must object. How can it be called SHORTCAKE if the ham goo is poured over toast? Really? Shouldn't it be titled Ham Rarebit sans Fromage?

And, in case you wondered if I hadn't noticed, what in blue blazes is "condiment sauce"???

Please comment if you have a clue. I have none.

Crusty Sausage Cakes

Ya gotta love the title.

The title is so great, I almost don't need to add a thing.

In fact, I don't think I will.

Oh Frank. You are Such a Ham.

Here are a variety of pig pictures from Cutco Meat and Poultry Cookery. Clearly Frank, the illustrator, thinks that swine are just thrilled to pieces to offer themselves up for our feasting pleasure.

Just look at them frolicking in various settings.

1. Juggling:2. Drunk:3. Crowned king of all swine:

4. Getting high?5. Starring in minor theatrics:

6. Tanning:7. Acting as chief pillow and butt rest:

You'll find some of these illustrations in recipes to come. Others will simply stand on their own merits.

Pork out.

Special Guest Blogger: Mama K on Boiled Dinners!

I wanted my Mom to write a guest blogger post, and thought about the dishes that most represented the cooking from my childhood during the 1970s. What came to mind? Boiled dinners!

While Googling about these culinary creations I stumbled across a cool cookbook mentioned in the Cookbook of the Day blog:

Now it's on my wishlist.

My memories of these dinners was that they were simple but had complexity of flavor (not that I knew what that meant at the time). Mom's versions were very straight forward. No Old Bay or garlic. No herbs. The smell would be enticing, filling the house with the promise of something good to come.

But let's hear what Mama K. has to say.

As a young girl growing up in California, I had no idea what a boiled dinner was. Eventually, a person from the East showed me his version of a Boiled Dinner. It consisted of a piece of beef, vegetables, lots of liquid and cooked in the oven.

Several years later, I was married with two children. The four of us arrived in Hornell, New York, from France, after my husband (at that time) was discharged from the U.S. Army.

There were many differences for this California girl to get used to, after landing in New York. Boiled Dinner was my favorite.

So, this is what I learned about a Boiled Dinner:

The ham (at that time) was so salty, that it was ALWAYS boiled in a large pot on the the top of the stove for a few hours, until the ham was falling off the bone. At that time, chunky cut-up vegetables such as, cabbage, carrots, turnips (optional), and onions are added. When vegetables are about half done, the potatoes are added; as they cook fairly quickly, they will totally fall apart if added too soon.

The ham provides a lot of flavor (and salt) to the vegetables. Each person at the meal can decide if butter, pepper and salt needs to be add to the dish. This dish can be served with or without the liquid.

(Editor comment: I don't remember a single turnip.)

I hadn't realized that the hams of the day were saltier than the ones we find now, but it helps explain why you'd want to boil the daylights out of it. Today's hams are so lean and tender that I hate to think what a few hours in bubbling water would do to the texture. I'll have to try it with a smoked picnic shoulder, assuming I can find one.

The other style of ham I remember from the era is canned.

Fortunately for me, time heals all memories, and my recollection of them was significantly more appealing than this.

(BONUS LINK: Turns out canned ham is strongly associated with camping trailers, at least according to Google images. Click here to check it out.)

A Justly Earned Reputation for Grossness

I'm a bit fascinated by the idea of "indigestibility", which back in the day typically referred to fat content or greasiness.

For example, Aunt Jenny's cookbook contains numerous claims about how much more digestible Spry is than other shortenings on the market. Take the following passages:

"Fried foods crispier, tastier, and so digestible: But say, when it comes to fryin, I could tell as much as any of 'em! Since I been fryin' with Spry, you should see all the doughnuts, French fries, and fried chicken my husband, Calvin, stows away! And never a twinge of indigestion!"

"Mebbe I mentioned it before, but I want to say over again, so that everybody gets it, how easy to digest foods cooked with Spry are. Grandpa Briggs at the Old Soldiers' Home eats pies and doughnuts and fried foods aplenty. Mrs. Thompson, the matron, uses Spry for everythin'."

"And you'll notice such a difference with fried foods! Why folks are eatin' all they want since Spry came to town. Sleepin' like tops and feelin' real chipper, too. Fact is, foods fried proper in Spry are as digestible as if baked or boiled. Why even a child can eat 'em."

Apparently devoted hubby Calvin, old man Briggs, and even little Tommy are putting away fried stuff like there's no tomorrow. With nary a twinge.

Obviously, the concern about fried foods had more to do with what it does to the tum tum than what it puts around it.

But back to the Bacon and Cabbage.

In this recipe, I'm confused. Looks like you still cook the cabbage in the grease-saturated pot liquor, so it's not like the leaves walk away unbeglistened. In this recipe, you drain off as much of the stuff as you can, so maybe it was the pool of liquor floating with fat globules that turned the author off. If you drain it, merely a gleaming whiff of pork fat would remain on the leaves, which could perhaps be disregarded as you dig in to the bacon.

OR

(And herein lies the mystery.)

Is it the cabbage itself that produces results described as indigestibility, the symptoms of which could be reduced by changing out the cooking water?

My solution, and undoubtedly Aunt Jenny's: do yourself a favor and just fry the cabbage in Spry. You'll justly earn a reputation for refinement.

Lard Making 101: Practical Housewifery at it's Finest

This post is for my friend Carol Douglas, who appears to be in need of the recipe at just such a time as this.

It comes from the book Common Sense in the Household. It is copyrighted 1880 but was printed in 1903.

Just look; the poor thing is falling apart at the seams. Reminds me of what I saw in the mirror some mornings over the past year.

Unlike me, the cracks in this thing probably won't heal, no matter how much cosmeticological lard is spread on it.

Anyhoo, the book has been on my list for presentation to you, but I hadn't gotten around to it yet. Thanks for the prompting, Carol!

Here's your first taste of Practical Housewifery. Now you too can make your own lard.

Lard

Every housekeeper knows how unfit for really nice cooking is the pressed lard sold in stores as "best and cheapest." It is close and tough, melts slowly, and is sometimes diversified by fibrous lumps. And even when lard has been "tried out" by the usual process, it is often mixed with so much water as to remind us unpleasantly that it is bought by weight.

The best way of preparing the "leaf lard," as it is called, is to skin it carefully, wash, and let it drain; then put it, cut into bits, into a large, clean tin kettle or bucket, and set this in a pot of boiling water. Stir from time to time until it is melted; throw in a very little salt, to make the sediment settle; and when it is hot--(it should not boil fast at any time, but simmer gently until clear)--strain through a close cloth into jars. Do not squeeze the cloth so long as the clear fat will run through, and when you do, press the refuse into a different vessel, to be used for commoner purposes than the other.

Most of the lard in general use is, however, made from the fatty portions of pork lying next the skin of the hog, and are left for this purpose by the butcher. Scrape from the rind, and cut all into dice. Fill a large pot, putting in a teacupful of water to prevent scorching, and melt very slowly, stirring every few minutes. Simmer until there remains nothing of the meat but fibrous bits. Remove these carefully with a perforated skimmer; throw in a little salt, to settle the fat, and when it is clear strain through a fine cullender (sic), a sieve, or a coarse cloth. Tip the latter in boiling water, should it become clogged by the cooling lard. Observe the directions about squeezing the strainer. If your family is small, bear in mind that the lard keeps longer in small than large vessels. Set away the jars, closely covered, in a cool, dry cellar or store room.

In trying out lard, the chief danger is of burning. Simmer gently over a steady fire, and give it your whole attention until it is done. A moment's neglect will ruin all. Stir very often--almost constantly at the last--and from the bottom, until the salt is thrown in to settle it, when withdraw to a less hot part of the fire. Bladders tied over lard jars are the best protection; next to these, paper, and outside of this, cloths dipped in melted grease.

Pork Cake. Let Mikey Try It.

In case the Sea Moss Pudding didn't cut it for you, perhaps you'll be a bigger fan of this recipe.

Just look at all the prettily decorated petit fours on the adjacent picture! Don't they look yummy?

Surely the recipes must be delicious. Surely.

Where the heck is Mikey when we need him???