Aspirational Southern Cooking Circa 1929

I found a little 64 page cookbook written in 1929 called "Our Favorite" and Tested Recipes compiled by some sort of committee of ladies from Atlanta. It must have belonged to my paternal grandmother. In the forward these ladies write:

Realizing the complexity of the present mode of life, and the high cost of living, this book has been collected and complied for the young housekeeper, who needs some tested and not too expensive but good recipes, from the homes of some of Atlanta’s good housekeepers, and their friends, noted for their good dishes. To them this Book is dedicated with the wish that there is never a failure.

And by “housekeepers” they do not mean hired help. They mean wives. How nice of them to think of young women and their need to never have “a failure.” I guess if housekeeping is all one puts her energy into, an unsatisfactory meal would have a certain emotional weight about it that it might not today.

What is also interesting is how very few of the recipes listed are what we think of as particularly “Southern” in nature. No fried chicken. They list chicken a la king, then croquettes, fricassee, panned and escalloped chicken. That is it. They list more puddings, not desserts, but puddings, than they do chicken recipes. There is an extensive list of different cakes and cookies. I have to say I don’t disagree with these ladies’ priorities. It’s hard to have a failure if you’ve got a good dessert.

I’ve included a recipe from the “Sandwiches” section that sounds delicious. And Southern. The name of the lady who submitted it is listed along with how to make it. Credit must go where it is due.

 

The Varsity Blues

varsityplaque.jpg

My mom died in 1997. My father called me at 6am and met me at the airport a few hours later.

When we walked in the door at home, it was already beginning to buzz with my mother’s close friends. Ann C and Ann P, our housekeeper Geraldine, Mrs. N. They were in the kitchen, mostly, doing I-don’t-know-what. Keeping busy. Trying to help.

By this time, I was drained, dazed, sad, yet relieved mom was no longer suffering. It had not been a matter of whether she would make it or not, but when she would go.

I didn’t really want to talk. What was there to say? I didn’t even need to cry. I was cried out. Watching the women at work, I felt a little lost.

The past few months my visits home had been about helping care for my mom, relieving my dad so that he could rest, and now there was nothing much for me to do.

He, too, seemed not to know what to do with himself. My mother always said, “Your father is good in a crisis.” Which is true. Those situations always bring out the best in him. But after the crisis? What is one supposed to do then? I think he picked up the newspaper and pretended to read. I wandered around the house trying to look occupied. Family would arrive soon enough. The house would fill up, and we would be busy with preparations for the funeral, but not yet.

There was a knock. My father’s friend Neal stood on our front porch with two boxes from The Varsity. Hamburgers, french fries, chili dogs, slaw dogs, pimento cheese burgers, onion rings. He presented his gifts and left a few minutes later.

It was such a small thing. Maybe it seems like an odd choice. But it was perfect for my dad and me. Neal read the situation exactly right. We didn’t need to talk it out. We didn’t need more “help.” We did need comfort. And Neal brought it to us, almost wordlessly, in a cardboard box.

The deviled eggs and casseroles would show up in their own good time. But I’ve never been happier to see that red box in my entire life. In my grief, I didn’t even realize I was starving.

 originally posted on justapinchofsouth.tumblr.com March 15, 2012

An Atlantan Ordering A Beverage in a Northern Restaurant

​No, Pepsi is not okay.

​No, Pepsi is not okay.

INT. YANKEE RESTAURANT – NOON

Waiter:                What would you like to drink?

Atlantan:             A Coke, please

Waiter:                Sure. Is Pepsi okay?

Atlantan:             No.

Waiter:                No?

Atlantan:             No.

Waiter:                What would you like then?

Atlantan:             Iced Tea. Do you have sweet tea?

Waiter:                Yeah, I guess. It's sweet.

Atlantan:             Wait. Is it from a mix or is it brewed?

Waiter:                 Brewed? You want hot tea?

Atlantan:             No. Iced tea. Is it made with tea bags or a powder?I don't want it if it's made with a powder.

Waiter:                 It comes out of the same thing as the Pepsi. You know, the drink        machine (points to the soft drink dispenser).

Atlantan:             Water. Just bring me water.

*Originially written for justapinchofsouth.tumblr.com