All That Meat & No Potatoes

Round 2 of more delicious recipes, 1950's style! Deliciousness not guaranteed. In fact, it's pretty much understood that most recipes from the 50's should never be eaten, under any circumstance.

This time, the fun continues with 1959's cookbook called How to Become a Cookout Champion: Win with these New Bar-B-Tricks. Please note: there are no interesting "tricks" for meat and you will never become a champion of the cookout. Your macho friends will mock you mercilessly, call you Mary and put you in charge of putting doilies underneath everyone's beer cans while they're watching the foosball match and fixing carburetors. (That is what manly men do, right?)



While I fully support the swell silver tinfoil cover, I do not condone the khaki slacks, blue socks, matching blue Keds and those Judy Garland-approved eyebrows. But why no meat on the grill? And why is lubing up the grill with ketchup? This bbq is off to an awesome start.



Men like meat on sticks, true dat. Adding tofu circles is questionable. And nothing says "crazy summer fun with the boys" like serving a hot cup of coffee.



Serving shit in hollowed-out melons and breadbowls and the like is so hokey it makes me a little stabby, but I guess in the 50's and 60's it was a novel, ca-razay par-tay trick. So I'm not hatin'. Except on another page of the cookbook, all of the dishes are served on ice in a wheelbarrow. Aww, how cutesy-tootsie. I'm pretty sure any man who served his meat-on-sticks in a gardening appliance at a party would get his ass kicked into next week. Except perhaps if he served it while riding the lawnmower. Wheelbarrow presentation is right up there on the hokiness scale, next to toilet bowl planters in the front yard.

But can I just address the beverage choice? Squirt. SQUIRT. "Wherever there's Squirt...there's fun"? I BET there is. A man must have written that ad, because I'm pretty sure no woman would find anything squirting in her general vicinity to be a good time. And sure as hell not in the punch bowl.

Come On-A My House

So yesterday I was saying that I have a new hobby of sorts. It's called "obsessed with vintage cookbooks." Now, before you get all "wow lame-o, could you any be any dorkier?" I would say A.) did you not catch my Chandler Bing impression? and B.) wasn't my Chandler Bing impression proof enough that I couldn't get any dorkier? But vintage cookbooks aren't as boring as you think. The graphics and models in these books are wonderful. In fact, the fembot housewives posing by the BBQ pit like they're Vogueing is hilarious...not to mention the mid-century modern furniture in the background and the cars and clothes could kill me in my tracks. So vintage cookbooks aren't as boring as you might think. (Or maybe they are and I'm the dork. Damn proud of my nerd status, too.)

My obsession started the usual way, by total accident. A couple weeks ago, a few of my out-of-town friends stopped by for dinner and drinks. After a few more drinks, we started playing records and had a few more drinks. And you know that it rolls, you have a few mai tais and start scheming and making plans which sound like a great idea at the time, but then then next morning you're all "Why am I wearing different clothes? Why is the floor sticky? Where's my goldfish? And who is that sleeping on the couch?"

What we came up with is an idea to throw a period-correct, 1959/'60 style dinner party, complete with the apropos clothing, music, cocktails, appetizers, dinner and dessert. We're gonna party like it's 1959. Literally. At the time that sounded swingin', but guess who's stuck doing all the work? Google. And then me. I've been searching vintage food, vintage recipes, vintage desserts, you name it, looking for what would have really been served at a swanky party in 1959. And so this is how I stumbled across the vintage cookbooks that have taken over my life. Either the folks who wrote these cookbooks were part of some 1950's conspiracy of brainwashing housewives across America to believe that in order to prove you're NOT a Communist, you will use pimiento loaf on a daily basis- or- people just really ate that way, which I cannot accept the idea that anyone could enjoy dinner that was made in a mold.

Can I get a witness? The following delights below come from the 1962 cookbook "Knox On-Camera Recipes: A Completely New Guide To Gel-Cookery".



Thanks for gettin' our backs, Knox. I'm sure I'm not the only one bored with your old guide to gel-cookery. Also, there never should have been any guide written with the words "gel-cookery".

Behold the culinary atrocities that only the 1960's could bring! Warning: if you haven't eaten yet, you may want to skip these pictures. Most of these dishes look like they've already been eaten.





What the HELL? Really?! Stupid Knox jerks. Lemon jell-o with corn and a side of olives sounds perfect.



This is my favorite. Not only do I not want to even go near this, what with it's pale complexion and questionable meat paste filler, but it looks like something you'd go to the doctor to get removed.

9 To 5

Hey, hey, kids! Contrary to popular belief I did not get taken captive by a traveling group of nomadic breakdancers, I am not moonlighting as a von Trapp singer and I did not fall off the face of the earth due to a moon boot malfunction. Although, breakdancing in moon boots sounds interesting. (Note to self: Start an 80's revival new wave band. Name it "Breakdancing In Moon Boots".)

Update time. Here's the haps: I've been multitasking like a crackhead and because of which I've not been blogging my face off like usual, simultaneously annoying and slightly amusing some in the usual manner. You know how I roll. For that, I'm sorry. (For the not-blogging part, not for the face coming off part. Because having no face would be gross. And unsanitary.) I just got in a mountain of vintage to consign for some of my bitches, and while that is delightful, it's also panic attack-making, what with all the work that needs to be done. And how can one get work done when there's American Idol to be watched? So there's that. Lots of new vintage, lots of work to go with it and waning mojo. And while I may not be super worker USA, as jebus as my witness I shall never be without my mojo. So back to work. Wa-pssssh! (That was indeed a lame attempt at making a "crack the whip" sound. What do you expect from 4 hours of sleep and not enough coffee? Must I keep reminding you that I'm not a hilarious comedian like Carrot Top? Although I would like to smash some crap like Gallagher.)

Be warned: in the next few days I'll be posting my very first giveaway! What could it be, you ask? Something way nerdy, you can bet. If you like free crap-free vintage crap- make sure to stay tuned and sign up. Or don't. You'll be crying your eyes out when you don't win an Evel Knievel lunch box. (It's not an Evel Knievel lunch box.)

Also, I have a new obsession which has been eating up my time lately. I'll get into the details of it later, perhaps in the next day or so. But it is way nerdy, yo. Which is also how I roll. I can tell you that my newest obsession is not: starting a Baywatch coffee mug collection, adopting Russian refugees or learning to speak Elvish.