First, I laid out the prehistoric earth, with a sad apatosaurus embedded therein.

That is a milk-based almond, cinnamon, bourbon jello (I was trying to use up the dregs of bottles in the liquor cabinet, and last few drops of some fireball whiskey left over from some apocalypse-themed cocktails that I made a few months ago served quite nicely here), with blackberries, peaches, slivered almonds, and chunks of cherry jello (leftover from that time Aaron got a wisdom tooth pulled) for prehistoric texture.  The apatosaurus is plastic.

And then I added a volcano, made out of grape jello, which was made using plain gelatin and real grape juice.  Using actual fruit juice instead and plain gelatin, instead of using flavored gelatin mixes is so much tastier and probably better for you because it isn’t as loaded with sugar.  Also, pterodactyl.

And then the volcano erupted!

The lava is gelatin made with tasty orange-carrot-ginger juice, which I let partially set and then folded into whipped cream. This results in an amazing sturdy and yet mousse-like texture that is tasty and also, admittedly, weird.  I then dusted the whole thing with sparkly red sugar from a cookie decorating kit, thereby negating any of the positive health effects of using juice.  The trees are eucalyptus branches.  The dinosaur is engulfed in lava.

I promise that for next Dinosaur Day I will make an actual dinosaur out of jello and frosting.

You would like to make one of your own, wouldn’t you?  Well, here’s what you need:

1.  Some plain, unflavored gelatin

2.  Cherry juice (or other tasty juice of your choosing)

3.  Blueberries

4.  Raspberries (my preference would be for fresh, but the store was all out, so I used frozen, which served their purpose quite nicely.)

5.  Some sugar

6.  MOST IMPORTANT OF ALL:  CHOCOLATE VODKA.

Here is what you do!

1.  Dissolve 2 packets of gelatin (Knox unflavored comes in handy individual packets) in 1.5 cups chocolate vodka.

2.  Stir in 1.5 cups of boiling water, until everything is dissolved.  Add a couple of spoonfuls of sugar if you want.

3.  Pour this into a five cup mold.  I HIGHLY recommend the vintage tupperware molds with the interchangeable festive design thingy on the top because they are FABULOUS and also very easy to unmold.  You can usually find them on Etsy pretty cheaply; that’s where I got mine.

4.  Put this in the fridge (or freezer, if, like me, you are impatient) to partially set, just until it’s kind of gooey.

5.  MEANWHILE!  Dissolve two packets of gelatin in 1 cup of cherry juice.

6.  Bring another cup of cherry juice to a simmer over low heat, and then add it to the gelatin/cherry juice mixture.  Stir until everything is dissolved.  I used pure, sugar-free cherry juice, so I also added two tablespoons of sugar here to offset the tartness.

7.  Drain and stir in your raspberries.  If you use frozen, make sure they’ve thawed first.

8.  Remove the partially-set chocolate vodka gelatin from the fridge, and stir in the blueberries.

9.  Put this back in the fridge until it sets a little bit more and is gloopy.

10.  Pour the cherry/raspberry/gelatin mixture on top.

11.  WAIT FOREVER.

12.  Once it is set, unmold, and amaze your friends and family!  And remember not to jiggle and drive.

So, that came home with me.  And so did some other wonderful stuff.  the Ford Treasury deserves a post all of its own, but here are a few select highlights from a few of the other cookbooks I picked up.

Aaron will surely be thrilled with me when I start insisting that all of the meals we eat together come from this cookbook:

I think that porkchop is at least 30% fat.

He will be especially thrilled when I start working my way through the appetizer chapter:

Balls on picks. The internet needed to know about this one, really it did.

I LOVE LOVE LOVE the lunchbox cookbook, partly because those colorful things in the corner look exactly like Vip, the fake product that Rock Hudson invents in his most fantastic film, Lover Come Back.

Also, it has excellent illustrations.  My favorite is from the chapter of holiday-specific lunchbox recipes:

And, from that chapter, here is a recipe that I think wins the award for the recipe with the most questionable motivation, ever.  It is for April Fools’ Day.  It is a recipe for caramels with almonds in them. I think…what is being suggested here is that you sneak some hard almonds into some chewy caramels, causing your loved ones to break their teeth.  APRIL FOOLS!!!!

Click for embiggening, in case you have some loved ones whose teeth need breaking and you want to try this out yourself.

A book of salad recipes, from the friendly folks at Knox Gelatine, ca. 1959.  ”Special Section on Molded Salads” is a lie.  It is an entire book of molded salads.

And it is fabulously illustrated!

If I were being honest with you, I would probably admit that this is basically what my mental image of myself looks like.

Look at that Sputnik Salad. Just look at it.

You really must click to enlarge this so you can learn all about the history of salads! (Note: I will not vouch for the accuracy of this history of salads.)

These two both date from 1952 and are also published by Knox.  They share many of the same recipes, but what’s fascinating is that the one on the right is REALLY pushing gelatin as a weight-loss aid.  So all of the dessert recipes call for artificial sweetening tablets instead of sugar.  So, basically, it is a book of gelatin recipes for people who enjoy misery.

I made a Peach Delight (the I Still Enjoy Living and Therefore Eat Sugar edition), and it was delightful!

I used evaporated milk instead of whipping cream, as the recipe suggests (not in the weird spirit of gelatin-as-diet-food, but more in the spirit of “It’s the 1950s!  I will have milk in a can!  Better living through science!  And also gel-cookery!”) and it worked pretty well, although it wasn’t as rich as some of the other moussey molds I’ve done.  It also kind of…deflated after sitting in the fridge overnight.  But it was still tasty!

That’s all for now, but there are more marvels from Bonnie Slotnick’s to come!  (Wait until I tell you about Crabmeat King George V.)

Also… I have discovered that there are gelatin art classes.  In East LA.  Where you can learn to make 3D flowers in gelatin.  It has recently come to my attention that in the Mexican-American community, GORGEOUS jello desserts seem to be A Thing and I think I need to get on this train.  So…if I can convince someone to drive me out to Montebello for jello classes, and if the classes are actually in English (it says they’re in English and Spanish but, well, you never know), this is looking like it might have to happen.  Also, look at this fancy gelatin you can buy!  It is award winning!  My dreams are coming true.

That, ladies and gentlemen, is Meta Given’s Chili Sauce Meringue Meatloaf.  There were haters, when I announced the existence of this recipe to members of my close circle of fellow travelers into the world of the mid-century culinary arts.   The word “abject” was bandied about.  As were the phrases “fucking gross,” and also “not awesome.”  ”Are we cooking with madlibs now?”* Aaron asked, when I told him this was what we were having for dinner.  Well, GUESS WHAT EVERYBODY, it was so delicious.  Savory meringue!  Who would have thought!  It is such an excellent idea!  And the meatloaf recipe itself was a nice, fairly standard meatloaf that paired nicely with the spicy meringue topping.

Chili Sauce Meringue Meatloaf

1/2 lb. ground beef chuck

1/2 lb. ground pork shoulder

1 tbsp chopped parsley

1 small onion, chopped fine

1 1/2 tsp salt

1 tsp horseradish (omitted because I HATE HORSERADISH, if I wanted the back of my nose to feel that way, I would just snort cocaine)

1 tsp green pepper, chopped (I used one chopped jalapeno, since, as we have learned, one must take liberties with these recipes in order for them to have any flavor whatsoever)

1 tbsp Worcestershire sauce

1 cup soft bread crumbs

2 egg yolks, beaten with 1/4 cup water

1/4 cup chili sauce

2 egg whites

 

Combine all ingredients except chili sauce and egg whites in order given and mix well.  Pat into a well-greased loaf pan 8 1/2 x 4 1/2 x 2 1/2 inches.  Bake 40 min. at 350 F.  Remove from oven, let stand 10 or 15 minutes for loaf to absorb meat juice in bottom of pan. Turn out onto baking sheet and cover with a meringue made by folding the chili sauce into the stiffly beaten egg whites.  Return to oven and bake 15 minutes longer.  Transfer to platter very carefully and serve hot.

Ok, an important note here regarding chili sauce:  one must assume that Meta Given intends one to use her chili sauce recipe in the meringue.  Her recipe for chili sauce calls for 14 lbs of tomatoes (that would be 1 peck), and two red peppers.  So…probably not very hot, let’s be real here.  So I just used a hearty spoonful of tabasco instead of the 1/4 cup of sauce she calls for.

CHILI SAUCE MERINGUE MEATLOAF:  Super delicious, A++, would make again, and would serve to visiting dignitaries.

Sadly, something I will NEVER make again was the dish that I intended as the side salad for the Chili Sauce Meringue Meatloaf.

There is a post-it note, on which I have drawn a big frowny face, marking the page in The Encyclopedia of Modern Cooking on which the recipe for avocado mousse can be found.  It is there to remind me that avocado mousse is gross and an aberration against the natural order.  Please note also that I made the LESS GROSS sounding version of avocado mousse, opting for the variation with lime juice instead of the variation with onion juice.  ONION JUICE.  There are no words.

Avocado Mousse

1 tbsp plain gelatin

1/4 cold water

3 medium, fully-ripened avocados

2 tbsp lemon juice

1 1/2 tsp onion juice

3/4 tsp salt

3/4 cup mayonnaise

3/4 heavy cream, whipped

Don’t attempt this mousse until you have high quality avocado with flesh ripened to the right, soft, lovely green stage.  Soften gelatin in cold water for five minutes, then set over hot water until dissolved.  Meanwhile, puree the avocados (there should be about 2 cups.)  Add next four ingredients.  Add dissolved gelatin slowly, stirring constantly.  Fold in cream thoroughly but lightly and pour into 6-cup mold or individual molds that have been rinsed with cold water.  Chill until firm.  Unmold on chilled flat platter and garnish with watercress, thick slices of orange, and grapefruit sections.

Variation:  Omit onion juice.  Steep 1 tsp grated lime rind in 2 tbsp lime juice for a minute.  Press out juice, discard rind, and substitute the lime juice for the lemon juice in the preceding recipe.

So, yes.  Avocado, whipping cream, mayonnaise, gelatin – really what could possibly go wrong?  Well, I would hazard that the first thing that went wrong was when Meta Given put this in the Salad chapter of her book, rather than in the dip section.  Because you’re supposed to eat this by the slice, which, it turns out, is such a completely offensive proposition.  As a dip, on a cracker or a carrot stick, it was alright, a bit bland and gooey, but alright.  But in its intended salad form, it was unredeemable.  There are no pictures of the avocado mousse, for I am attempting to excise it from my memory.  (Although, now that I think of it, it might have made a good hair conditioner?)

AVOCADO MOUSSE:  Super gross, F -, will not make again, will not serve to visiting dignitaries.

Also, blog makeover is still underway.  It’s not staying like this because it’s kind of ugly like this, but things are kind of a work in progress.

*The “Cooking with Madlibs” dinner party is forthcoming, naturally.

The items usually stick around for a few days, sometimes up to a week or two.  At first, if an item was particularly large, I would let it sit there and annoy me for a few days, and then I would file a large item garbage pickup request with the city.  However, I quickly learned that this was an exercise in futility because no sooner would the item be picked up when something else would appear.  To wit:  the first large Mysterious Object to appear was a bedframe.  It sat there innocuously for a few days, and then soon the neighbours started dumping other crap on it:  bags of garbage, a broken mirror, even some literal crap!  Yes, friends, honest to god crap, in the form of a bag of used cat litter, upended on the bedframe.  And so I reported it for pickup, and it was taken away, only to be promptly replaced with a crappy particle board desk, which, eventually, was replaced by a crappy particle board desk that  looked like someone had backed a car into it.

So I have stopped attempting to solve the problem of the Mysterious Objects, which, since the bedframe, have included such treasures as an extremely large cat tree, a pair of sparkly pink hi-tops, a Barbie dreamhouse, a dresser, a dead tree in a pot, and, weirdly, a dozen croissants and a loaf of garlic bread.  But I have decided that this phenomenon needs documentation, and so, voila, I have created The Detritus of Postmodernity (because who do we want to invoke at a time like this?  Frederic Jameson, that’s who), a twitter account through which I will be documenting each item as it appears.  I tried my best to reconstruct the chronology of things that have appeared over the past few months, and, starting with today’s item, a weird, outdoor fireplace/cheminea type thingy made out of paving stones (which is now the official mascot of the Detritus of Postmodernity) I will be photographing all items for posterity.

Et voila!  Finally a productive use for the information superhighway!

2.  Here is a mathematical equation I can really get behind:

ONE package of coconut luau dessert mix

PLUS:

SIX tiny baking pans shaped like roasted chickens

EQUALS:

SIX tiny, gelatinous, coconut chickens.

Strawberry-like Appetizers

1. For realistic strawberries, mash liver sausage (without garlic) then shape into the shape of a strawberry, roll in finely ground almonds, which have been tinted red.

2. Use a tiny bit of mint or watercress for stem and leaf.

Aaron was like, “well, I guess we just need to keep in mind that back then, strawberries really were a really seasonal fruit that you couldn’t just get any time,” which is a valid point, however, it does not explain why one would choose to make substitute strawberries out of liver.  Perhaps General Electric had ties to Big Liver?  WHO CAN SAY?

Anyhow, I won’t be making this recipe any time soon, but I just really, really wanted you to know about it.  I want everyone to know about it.  Consider it a dire warning to NEVER EVER eat anything that looks strawberry-like.

OH ALSO, The New Art of Simplified Cooking has a recipe for something called “Mousse of Fish.”  I enjoy repeating this phrase.  ”Mousse of Fish.”  It sounds more and more like nonsense each time you say it.  ”Mousse of Fish.”  I particularly enjoy repeating it in a Boris Badenov accent.

That, my friends, is a whiskey, coffee, and chocolate cake (recipe snatched from Epicurious) with a cigarette smoke flavored glaze of our own creation – we made it by melting some butter and powdered sugar, and stirring in some bourbon and liquid smoke.  We were trying to represent, in taste, what this book is about.  The cake is decorated with pills, rope, and wilted flowers that we made out of gumpaste during a meeting of the Fashionable Ladies’ Gumpaste Sculpture Society, which is an exclusive club, comprised of Jill and myself,  that I made up just now.   The board that it’s on is not edible – it’s parchment that I painted with ink and mounted on foamcore – but everybody kept asking if it was.  I should probably have told them it was a giant cookie, then maybe we would have won.

We did not win, sadly, as it seems that cute carries the day at the Edible Book Festival, and it turns out that not everyone thinks booze and cigarette and pills and rope are cute.  (Not even when they’re made out of gumpaste!)  I also question the gastronomical credibility of the judges, because I overheard one of them ask the girl beside me (who made a lovely If You Give a Mouse a Cookie Cake) if fondant is made out of cheese.  HOWEVER, our cake was pretty amazing, if under appreciated.  As a non-smoker, I wouldn’t know, but I was told that it tasted just like smoking a cigarette, in a good way.  The epicurious cake recipe is good – really good – you should try it.

And special thanks, as always, to Aaron, my Man Friday and official photographer!

The other night, the last night of spring break, I was looking for something to do with myself, and so I decided to spend some quality time with Meta Given.  I’ve decided that, from now on, whenever I’m looking for something to do with myself (admittedly, this does not happen often) I’m going to whip something up from the Modern Encyclopedia of Cooking, using whatever is on hand.  Last weekend, we’d had a tasty brunch of buttermilk pancakes and mimosas, which meant that what was on hand was leftover buttermilk and orange juice.

Meta Given to the rescue!

Orange Buttermilk Jelly

1/2 cup strained orange juice

1 tbsp lemon juice

1 1/2 cups fresh buttermilk

Pinch of salt

About 1/3 cup sugar (ed’s note:  I used closer to 1/4 cup and it was fine!)

1 tbsp plain gelatin

3 tbsp cold water

2 seedless oranges, peeled and sectioned

Whipping cream

Combine orange and lemon juice with buttermilk and salt and sweeten to suit the taste, depending on sweetness of orange juice.  Soften gelatin in cold water; then heat over hot water until dissolved.  Stir into buttermilk mixture.  Pour into a mold or bowl and chill until firm.  Unmold and garnish with orange sections, and serve with whipped cream if desired.

So, “soften gelatin in cold water; then heat over hot water until dissolved,” is a somewhat cryptic instruction, unusually cryptic for Meta, who is often painfully clear about things, but this is a very necessary step: when you soften gelatin powder in a few tablespoons of water, it firms up almost immediately and has the consistency of paste.  I then set the little bowl of jello paste that I’d made into a bowl of hot water, which melted it back down into a thick liquid that was easily blendable with the rest of the ingredients.

So.  I am sure that you are skeptical about how this particular dish turned out.  Buttermilk is kind of a weird thing, and it is kind of a gross thing on its own, but it does miraculous things in cooking and baking, but this particular application of buttermilk involved neither cooking nor baking it.  But it was so delicious.  Amazingly so and surprisingly so.  The buttermilk made the jelly tart and zesty, and combined with the orange and lemon juice, it tasted like key lime pie.  I actually speculate that this dish could easily double as a pie filling – it would be super nice with a graham cracker crust.  So the verdict with this one is YOU SHOULD MAKE IT EVEN THOUGH IT SOUNDS GROSS AND CRAZY.  Because it is kind of a transcendent dessert experience.

Presentation-wise, though, I kinda flubbed this one.  There wasn’t really enough of the mixture for my bundt pan, so it wasn’t stable enough to actually stand up in a ring, so it kind of flopped out onto the plate.  I also didn’t have orange sections or whipped cream to make it look nice, so instead I fixed this unappealing presentation with the swift application of an entire flower arrangement.

And here is a guest appearance from Franklin R. Kitten, food critic, who officially endorses this gelatin-based dessert:

So we ate it all, and then I decided that a house is not a home unless it has a weird, molded dessert and/or salad in it, so last night I made Meta’s Mocha Whip.

Mocha Whip

1 tbsp plain gelatin

2 tbsp cold water

1/2 cup very strong coffee

3 eggs, separated

1/2 cup sugar

Pinch of salt

2 teaspoons vanilla

Cream

(Meta offers some strangely involved instructions on how to make strong coffee, but I am not including them because you know how to make coffee.) Soften gelatin in the cold water for 5 minutes, then set in hot water to dissolve.  Beat the egg yolks in the top of a double boiler (ed.’s note for those with ill-equipped kitchens:  I have no double boiler, so I just used a little pot inside a big pot!), then beat in the sugar and salt.  Add the 1/2 cup coffee and cook over hot water until the mixture coats a spoon (ed.’s note:  there is an illustration in the book to show what “coating a spoon” should look like, but it is largely indecipherable and useless.   I ended up cooking this until it had thickened somewhat and started to become opaque, at which point it was pretty much coating the spoon.  I also ended up cooking the mixture for far longer than you’d think you would, but it seemed necessary).  Add the vanilla and gelatin; blend well.  Fold in stiffly beaten egg whites.  (ed.’s note:  I was [possibly needlessly] worried that the heat from the gelatin/egg yolk mixture would cook the egg whites, so I actually put it in the fridge for just a few minutes so it could cool a wee bit.  Not sure if this was actually necessary, but it didn’t hurt anything.  But be careful not to cool it for too long, or your gelatin will set!)

Pour into a 4-cup glass mold or into smaller individual glass ones.  Chill until firm.  When ready to serve, unmold and serve with cream.

Ok, so, look at this gorgeous thing.  It looks like a cartoon dessert from, like, Super Marioland or something.  I was admittedly somewhat gratuitous in my use of whipped cream.

And YUM YUM YUM.  The egg white/gelatin mixture sets to a really interesting texture.  It’s very light and a bit spongy, but also kind of cake-like.  And it tasted almost EXACTLY like my grandmother’s homemade tiramisu.  It was really remarkable.  And really delicious.  It might be my favorite gelatin adventure so far!

And here is Franklin R. Kitten with whipped cream all over his eyebrow whiskers because I left the mixer unattended on the counter for all of five seconds:

Jonathan Gold, watch out.  Franklin R. Kitten is coming for your Pulitzer.

Also, did you know that gelatin is a reversible colloid?  Nor did I!  I do not even really know what that means, in scientific terms!  But I do know that, in practical terms it means this:  once gelatin has gellified, you can melt it down, and then when it cools it will re-gellify again.  This is an important thing to be aware of if you need to let your jello set partially before stirring something into the mold, and you decide to speed the setting of your jello mold by putting it in the freezer for a few minutes, but then forget about it because you are on a conference call and suddenly it is an hour later and your jello has completely set.  Not that this has ever happened in Alexandra’s 1947 Test Kitchen.

Anyhow, I have been kind of mad at the world lately, partly because of the union stuff in Wisconsin, which riles me even more now than ever before, because I have suddenly become increasingly involved in union/labor-related organizing (more on that some other time).  But I have discovered that making gelatin-based desserts is an excellent way to de-stress after a long day of feeling impotently rageful, because it is like weird exciting science, but science you get to eat.  So the other night I tried my  hand at Meta Given’s Caramel Sponge

Caramel Sponge

3/4 cup sugar

1/2 cup boiling water

1 tablespoon gelatin

1/4 cup cold water

2 eggs, separated

1/4 tsp salt

1 cup milk

1 teaspoon vanilla

whipped cream

Put 1/2 cup of the sugar into a heavy metal saucepan or skillet, and stir constantly over direct heat until melted to an amber-colored liquid.  Slowly add the boiling water and simmer until caramel is entirely dissolved, stirring occasionally.  Cool for about 10 minutes.  Soften gelatin in cold water for 5 minutes.  Beat egg yolks, add salt and milk, and slowly stir in the caramel syrup.  Return to saucepan and cook over low heat, stirring constantly until mixture just coats the spoon.  Remove from heat and stir in the gelatin; add vanilla and chill.  When mixture has become thick and syrupy beat the egg whites until stiff, add the remaining 1/4 cup of sugar, and beat until thick and smooth; then whip the gelatin mixture until fluffy and add to the egg whites, folding lightly but thoroughly until well mixed.  Pour into mold, bowl, or sherbet glasses, and chill until firm.  Serve with whipped or plain cream.

So, one unfortunate aspect of the gelatin-based dessert, is that I have a tendency to Want Dessert Right Now, Thanks, which makes the “chill until firm” part of the process a bit of a challenge for me.  So, true to form, I unmolded this too soon, and it kind of blobbed out onto the plate, so, sadly, I have no photograph for you of a perfect caramel sponge.  But, I figure this blog is a place to both celebrate my victories and almost victories, so here is an almost molded caramel sponge:

I promise it was more tasty than it looks.  It was really good.  It was fluffy and kind of mousse-like.  If anything, it might have been a bit too sweet – I probably could have lived without the second sugar addition.  But this was a really interesting dessert to make – a strange hybrid of custard and meringue and jello mold – and I think I might try it again, and use it as a base recipe for other flavors.  Meta has a recipe for something similar that is lemon-flavored that sounds pretty amazing, so that one might be next on the list.

We are learning some things about the 1950s as we do this project, yes, we most certainly are.  One of the main things I have learned is that a salad is something that has a fruit or vegetable in it somewhere, is usually served on a bed of lettuce, and usually has mayonnaise.  This salad is Banana Salad, which consists primarily of a fruit (banana), is served on a bed of lettuce (historically inaccurate arugula:  you can bet your 1950s housewife would have used iceberg), and has that lovely dollop of mayonnaise smack in the middle, which I further beautified using a sprig of sad, wilty dill that I found in the bottom of the vegetable crisper.  The use of exotic peanuts are really what sets this salad apart from the crowd, I’d say.  Would you like a banana salad of your very own?  Of course you would!  Here’s how you make one:

Banana Salad

3 bananas, well-ripened

1/4 cup orange juice

Chopped peanuts – or other nuts

Lettuce

Fruit salad dressing or Mayonnaise

Peel bananas, cut lengthwise in half and then crosswise in half.  To prevent them from discoloring, prepare salads just before serving and coat bananas at once with orange juice.  Roll in chopped nuts, pressing slightly to partially imbed them.  Arrange on lettuce and serve with preferred dressing.

One of my new favorite pastimes is to say to people “Hey, ever heard of banana salad?” and then read this recipe aloud to them and watch them try to put together, in their minds, an image of what it looks like.  It is sort of performance art that way.

Anyhow, shockingly, this salad was kind of delicious and we at all of it.  The orange juice made the bananas kind of tangy, and the mayonnaise paired very nicely with the peanuts.  Which is the strangest sentence I have ever written.  But as strange as it sounds, it worked.  I would actually consider making this again.  Actually.  Really.

Next up, Cream of Almond Soup.  Because that’s what one always serves after banana salad.

Cream of Almond Soup

(A Delicious Soup for Unusual Occasions)

1/4 cup of butter

1/2 cup of almonds, blanched

3 tbsps flur

2 cups milk

2 cups richly flavored chicken broth

4 thin slices lemon

Watercress

Heat butter in saucepan.  Add almonds, toss to coat.  Let almonds toast over very low heat, frequently tossing and stirring to brown evenly. When lightly browned remove from butter, let cool, then put through a food chopper.  Blend flour with butter left in pan.  Gradually add the milk and chicken broth.  Heat to boiling, stirring constantly.  if broth is unsalted, add salt to taste.  Add the ground almonds.  Serve piping hot with a thin slice of lemon and a spring of watercress floating on top.

(note – I used vegetable stock instead of chicken to make this vegetarian friendly)

So, while this recipe begs many questions (namely “Nut soup?”), the most interesting one might be “what is the nature of the unusual occasion at which one might serve almond soup?” and I can only conclude that the occasion must be that rare time when people show up, expect dinner, and all you have on hand is a bag of nuts and a quart of milk and some stock.  BUT ANYHOW, I know the question on your minds is clearly, what does nut soup taste like?  Well, it tastes quite nice, if completely bland (am I sensing a theme, Meta?) and once we added some black pepper, it was pretty delicious.  And yes, nutty.

So the real challenge this week was to come up with a three course meal from 1947 that was vegetarian friendly, because of visiting vegetarians.  This was a challenge because I’m fairly certain Meta Given had never heard of vegetarians before.  So, for the main course, we went with beans.  You will note that the recipe for Bean and Apple casserole does, in fact, call for salt pork.  Because I am not Laura Ingalls Wilder, I do not have a ready supply of salt pork, and since we were going veg anyhow, I topped the casserole with a vegetarian salt pork flavor equivalent that I invented, and that may or may not taste anything like actual salt pork,  consisting of several knobs of butter, some smoked salt, and a few liberal dashes of Maggi (Improves the Taste!) (It is also worth noting that when I looked Maggi up in Amazon just now, the “customers who bought this item also bought” list consisted of three different-sized bottles of Maggi, a box of potato dumpling mix, and I Spit On Your Grave.  I offer this fact without commentary, for your consideration).

Navy Bean and Apple Casserole

1lb. dried navy beans (2 cups)

6 cups cold water

1 tsp salt

3 large tart apples, peeled and sliced

1/3 cup brown sugar, firmly packed

1/4 lb. salt pork, sliced

Wash beans and turn into a 3-quart saucepan.  Add the water and salt, heat to boiling, and simmer, gently, covered, about 2 hours.  Drain, saving cooking water.  Arrange beans and apple slices in alternate layers in a greased casserole, sprinkling sugar over each layer.  Pour in 2 cups of the cooking liquid and top with slices of salt pork.  Bake, covered, in a very slow oven (250 degrees) for about 2 1/2 hours, or until beans are light brown and thoroughly cooked.  If they become dry in cooking, add more cooking liquid or hot water.  There should be enough liquid on the beans to make a gravy-like sauce over them.

So, this was baked beans and apples, and it was very nice, if you like that sort of thing.  Sweet, but not too sweet, considering all the brown sugar.  If I were to make this according to my own specs, instead of Meta’s, I would probably liberally douse this in chili powder and go for some kind of spicy sweet thing, but, as we have learned, such taste sensations had not been invented in the America of 1947.  And weirdly, even though I actually pre-soaked the beans (which Meta does not call for), and boiled them forever, and baked them forever, they were still kind of underdone by the time we ate.  I actually imagine this might have worked really well if left in a crock pot all day.

And then, because one cannot live on beans from 1947 alone, we had vegan black and white cookies that the fabulous Ms. Jill brought for dessert!

Special thanks to Sam, Jill, Nikki, and Aaron, who gamely ate bananas with peanuts and mayonnaise on them and at least pretended to like it.

Sorry pictures are crap this time out – I was stuck using the ol’ telephonecamera.  Will do better next time!