How Lovely to be a Woman

Jake and I had a real grown-up dinner last night. We hosted one of his colleagues and her boyfriend, and set the table with cloth napkins and everything. Like many traditional households, the meal was fixed by the (post-semester) stay-at-home spouse, while the (all-year-round) working spouse came home pretty soon before dinner started and put in the bare minimum of work before the guests arrived. Of course, in our house, Jake is the stay-at-home spouse (he works incredibly hard most of the year, but he's in that post-semester, pre-summer work limbo right now) and I'm the all-year-working spouse. And. He's the better cook.

At one point after dessert, conversation turned to old cookbooks and the recipes inside. Jake pulled out his copy of Joy of Cooking, from 1964--a wedding gift to his parents--which boasts recipes for, amongst other things, squirrel. Complete with a "how to skin" guide, and tips on which kind of squirrel is best. (Hint: red squirrels are gamey.) The book has no pictures and is almost didactic, but it's very utilitarian and still pretty modern, even though its first printing was in the 1930s.

On the opposite end of the aesthetic spectrum is my favorite old cookbook, the 1961 edition of the Betty Crocker Cookbook. God, this thing is wonderful. I first fell in love with it at my in-laws', when my mother-in-law showed me the recipe she uses for cinnamon rolls. After coming back to the DC area, I set to work getting myself a copy. I found out--pretty unceremoniously--that a mint-condition copy could run you $400. I decided I wouldn't spend more than $45. So, to eBay I went, and after losing out on four auctions, I finally got myself a copy for $42, plus shipping.

Here's the thing. I'm sure this book has some pretty awesome recipes that really stand up to the test of time. But I haven't been able to get myself past the layout, the pictures, the amazingly awe-inspiring early-1960s-ness of the whole thing. It's I Love Lucy, it's Mad Men. I'm obsessed with the whole thing of it.

I have a nascent collection of etiquette books (both the modern kinds like Kate Spade's Manners and Occasions and eBay-ed ones like 1921's two-volume Book of Etiquette) and other volumes on femininity and what it means to be a woman. The current crown of my collection is 1846's The Young Mother.

As a third-wave feminist, I grew up with the Barbie slogan "We girls can do anything," and I'm fascinated by eras in which we couldn't even try. I constantly struggle with my love for the trappings of traditional feminism, and have been asked more than once how I can be a feminist and wear lipstick; how I can be a feminist and want to be a mother; how I can be a feminist and wear an apron. (The short answer: 'cause feminism is about choice, and that's what I choose!) But still, I try to reconcile my admiration of the past with a look toward the future. And it's hard sometimes. I have to continue to think about it.

All that said, enjoy some of the details from the 1961 Betty Crocker Cookbook after the jump...while I watch pretty people dance on TV!

The first few sections of the book are the best, and the illustrations are priceless. This is all before you get to the section that suggests menus, like Caroline Kennedy's birthday party menu (roast chicken, mashed potatoes with clown faces--what?--green peas, ice cream molds in clown and animal shapes) and "Jimmy Durante's Choice" (shrimp cocktail, tossed salad with Umbriago dressing, broiled steak, baked potatoes, fresh asparagus, fruit in season). I'm coming to realize that Americans have always eaten lots of food, when economics have allowed them to.

Then, there are these pages...

 The Betty Crocker test kitchens, complete with Betty Crocker-employed model women.

 Kitchen Know-How with Hints for the Homemaker, including "Plan Ahead" (assemble your ingredients), "Be Comfortable" (wear easy-fitting clothes, and remember, "Good posture prevents fatigue"), and "Refresh Your Spirits" (which apparently means "Think pleasant thoughts" and "have a hobby," not "Mother's Little Helper never hurt anyone"). The woman in the top left corner is teaching her lower-right-hand daughter well.

This woman is using her super-modern kitchen-sized computer to make recipe calculations. And above her, my favorite illustration in this whole book...

"Oh my good Lord, my husband is bringing his boss home for dinner and I haven't any baking soda!" (I think I just watched this episode of Mad Men. Betty had to give her steak to Roger Sterling.)

This is actually really useful. There's a whole section on how to prepare foods for cooking, with illustrative photos.

Men cooked in the 1960s! Well, you know, they grilled. (Oh, man, something supremely nerdy just clicked for me. I'll spare you, but it's fascinating in my head. It's about ancient Greece, so I'll spare you.)

And finally, this is what a good dinner spread looked like in 1961. If you were serving an international menu of Sukiyaki, Chicken Curry, and Enchiladas:

Yum.