Join a Pig Club for Fun Every Day!

I just don't know what to think. And I don't know what the designers were thinking.

But there's one thing I DO know. Pigs in Blankets are the perfect dish for parties. 

Ok, I'll say one thing more. Did you know there was an effort in World War I to get kids to raise pigs? (Me either.)

Don't delay. Join a pig club today.

Ever Eat a Pine Tree? Maybe Make Pudding from It?

I always wanted to like Grape Nuts cereal. My mom bought it periodically and it struck me as a very grown up food. Sophisticated, like coffee or wine, but in a bowl. She probably had it on hand for moments when she was trying to lose weight after succumbing to ads like these:

Used as I was to the simple satisfactions of Cheerios, Rice Crispies, and the occasional glorious bowl of Honeycombs, I always served myself too much, dousing the heap with plenty of milk, and then staring at it for minutes, willing it into submission. Maybe this time it would taste good. Maybe if I let it soak long enough it would transform.

It never did. 

And because of the volume I'd put in the bowl, my jaw would invariably be sore by the time I forced myself to finish it. Not that I heaped it in. I knew better than that. But I used quantities similar to Euell Gibbons' serving in his famous ads, like this one:

"Ever eat a pine tree?"

Euell was an author known for his foraging prowess at a time when natural foods were becoming popular. Post employed him to make a series of ads like this one, stressing the simple ingredients and crunchy texture of the cereal: 

The campaign led to a lot of well-earned jokes about the Grape-Nuts-eating experience. But eventually, the tide turned:

Most cereal boxes of the era were designed for children to read at the breakfast table, featuring games or puzzles, cartoons, or promises of prizes within. So General Foods should have known better, because kids were apparently lured into the great outdoors to chew on yews, choke on cat tails, and nibble sand. I acknowledge being susceptible to this messaging myself, as you can see from this post.

Of course Grape Nuts had been around for a long time before Euell was invited to the party. Here's an early ad, which has a phrase or two that trouble me:

"Pre-digested?" 

How does that work? Were/are there humans in the factory eating the cereal dough, letting it macerate for a few hours, and then regurgitating it for baking? Blergh.

Grape Nuts was big on science:

A compelling ad, if perhaps a bit homoerotic. 

Back to my original point. 

I kept trying to like Grape Nuts, and I kept failing. Even into adulthood, I'd buy a box once in a while, and play the pour and wait trick. And I never enjoyed it. I've come to realize it's like that thing where you're standing on the edge of the subway tracks telling yourself not to step over, but feeling like maybe you should.

RESIST THAT VOICE!

My hubby's grandmother used to make pudding out of the stuff, so perhaps using it as an ingredient improves the eating experience:

Grape Nuts ice cream is apparently also a thing, though savory uses seem to make more sense in my culinary imagination.

As I type this, I'm realizing I might finally be over the "hey, maybe you'll like them now" compulsion. Perhaps I had to get nearly as old as Euell Gibbons to realize I don't actually have to enjoy Grape Nuts, regardless of it's healthful powers.

POWers.

(POWers. See what I did there?)

Do YOU like Grape Nuts? Drop me a comment below and tell me more.

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.

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!