I’ve spent the last few days looking for a cookbook that I’d last seen in early January. I knew it had to be around here somewhere, but that covers a lot of hiding places when you get right down to it. It’s very easy for a book to get lost in my office, for example, there being a lot of such things there.
I found it last night. It was right where it should have been. I just didn’t see it the first three times I checked there. In my defense it’s kind of a dark corner for a book with a dark cover.
I’m not really sure why I was looking for it other than it has some sentimental value and I’d rather it not be lost.
The book’s full title is Bull Cook and Authentic Historical Recipes and Practices, by George Leonard Herter and Berthe E. Herter of Herter’s, Waseca, Minnesota. It was first published in 1960 and it is a very strange book indeed.
For one thing, it reads like the original recipe blog. There are no lists or step by step instructions. Instead on every page there are headers with the name of a recipe, followed by full paragraphs of text covering the history of the recipe, some of which go back to the medieval period, the ingredients and how to obtain and prepare them (there's a section on how to clean and gut a turtle, among other things), and eventually how to put them all together into a dish. It also has a surprising number of halftone black and white photographs, some of which are there to help you see what you have to do and some of which are there mostly for scenery.
The recipe for Oysters a la Rockefeller, for example, takes four full pages of text, much of which describes the history of Antoine’s restaurant in New Orleans (a place where Kim and I have actually eaten, and let me tell you the décor hasn't changed) as well as several photos of Antoine’s in particular and New Orleans in general and more than a few editorial comments about Antoine’s, oysters as a dish across the board, and John D. Rockefeller. I assume that if you follow the steps that are, eventually, outlined in the recipe you will end up with a tasty version of Oysters a la Rockefeller, but I will not do that because in my sad experience oysters are just salty snot bombs best left to others who prefer that sort of thing. More for you, dear oyster lover! More for you.
The book was was a gift to my grandfather from a guy named Bill Saunders, about whom I know absolutely nothing other than this fact. Bill inscribed it jovially to my grandfather and then listed the place where he gave him this book – Madison, Wisconsin – and the date, which is exactly the day I was born.
So I know where he was on that day. He was a long way from Philadelphia.
My grandfather was not a cook. He left that to my grandmother, and he took care of other things that needed doing. I have no idea whether any of these recipes ever made it into their kitchen.
I am very tempted to find one to try, though.
Today would have been my grandparents’ 84th anniversary. They’re long gone now, of course, as are so many other people who would have appreciated this story. But it is important to tell the old stories, because otherwise they get forgotten and that is when people are truly no longer with us.
Happy anniversary, Nana and Pop!
I found it last night. It was right where it should have been. I just didn’t see it the first three times I checked there. In my defense it’s kind of a dark corner for a book with a dark cover.
I’m not really sure why I was looking for it other than it has some sentimental value and I’d rather it not be lost.
The book’s full title is Bull Cook and Authentic Historical Recipes and Practices, by George Leonard Herter and Berthe E. Herter of Herter’s, Waseca, Minnesota. It was first published in 1960 and it is a very strange book indeed.
For one thing, it reads like the original recipe blog. There are no lists or step by step instructions. Instead on every page there are headers with the name of a recipe, followed by full paragraphs of text covering the history of the recipe, some of which go back to the medieval period, the ingredients and how to obtain and prepare them (there's a section on how to clean and gut a turtle, among other things), and eventually how to put them all together into a dish. It also has a surprising number of halftone black and white photographs, some of which are there to help you see what you have to do and some of which are there mostly for scenery.
The recipe for Oysters a la Rockefeller, for example, takes four full pages of text, much of which describes the history of Antoine’s restaurant in New Orleans (a place where Kim and I have actually eaten, and let me tell you the décor hasn't changed) as well as several photos of Antoine’s in particular and New Orleans in general and more than a few editorial comments about Antoine’s, oysters as a dish across the board, and John D. Rockefeller. I assume that if you follow the steps that are, eventually, outlined in the recipe you will end up with a tasty version of Oysters a la Rockefeller, but I will not do that because in my sad experience oysters are just salty snot bombs best left to others who prefer that sort of thing. More for you, dear oyster lover! More for you.
The book was was a gift to my grandfather from a guy named Bill Saunders, about whom I know absolutely nothing other than this fact. Bill inscribed it jovially to my grandfather and then listed the place where he gave him this book – Madison, Wisconsin – and the date, which is exactly the day I was born.
So I know where he was on that day. He was a long way from Philadelphia.
My grandfather was not a cook. He left that to my grandmother, and he took care of other things that needed doing. I have no idea whether any of these recipes ever made it into their kitchen.
I am very tempted to find one to try, though.
Today would have been my grandparents’ 84th anniversary. They’re long gone now, of course, as are so many other people who would have appreciated this story. But it is important to tell the old stories, because otherwise they get forgotten and that is when people are truly no longer with us.
Happy anniversary, Nana and Pop!
2 comments:
"It is important to tell the old stories ..."
Truer words have never been written. Although I believe I would've emphasized the word important - but that's just one of my many quirks.
Lucy
I figured the message would get across. :)
Historians aren't good at the small stories that make life interesting. We're good at big things, but not small things. That's why these stories have to be told and retold by those who know them.
It's a mission.
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