The Food of a Younger Land (26 page)

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Stir well; serve with a glass of pure spring water on the side.

A stick of pineapple may be added if desired, but the original recipe did not include any pineapple. If pineapple is used, it should be fresh so as to prevent any addition of sugar which would be included in the prepared fruit.

CLARENCE KERNS

T
hough probably not legal under Mississippi’s rigid prohibition laws, pear wine is a common home-made beverage of real merit. Sand or “pineapple” pears are a superior fruit for cooking, especially preserving like quinces, but are so plentiful that they frequently rot on the ground, are fed to stock, or sold for as low as ten cents per bushel. Consequently the home-owner usually figures the cost of his champagne-like beverage at only 12 to 15 cents per gallon, the price of the sugar needed for it.

Juice may be obtained by grinding and pressing the raw fruit. The commoner and better way is to dice fruit, including some of the peel, and stew slowly in limited water till tender; squeeze out juice through bags; strain carefully; add 2½ to 3 pounds sugar per gallon; put into narrow-mouth containers of glass, stone, or wood; leave open for several days till fermentation is well started; cork (leaving a vent for gasses—preferably rubber tube with end immersed in water); store in cool, dark place; cork tightly when vinous fermentation (bubbling) ceases (2 to 3 weeks). Improves with further ageing.

Good ripe fruit, cleanliness, freedom from dregs or floating particles, proper moderate temperature, and exclusion of air, so that alcohol does not escape or acetic (vinegar) fermentation set in, are important factors toward best results. It is often advisable to drain from dregs and re-bottle for ageing.

K
entucky Colonels eat as well as drink, but the annual Colonels’ Dinner, during Derby Week in Louisville, is built around the mint julep, and Colonels have been known, at the conclusion of the banquet, to have remarked, “That’s the finest meal I ever drunk.” The Colonels, from every state in the Union, Canada, and Hawaii, discuss two subjects—horses and the correct way to make a Kentucky Mint Julep—the three or eight correct ways.

Historically, the mint julep was probably born in Virginia, but Kentuckians will stoutly insist it is a product of their state. There are, broadly speaking, two schools of thought regarding their preparation—the don’t-crush school and the do-crush school. The don’t-crushers austerely contend that an abundance of mint sprigs in the top of the glass, to give the partaker a fragrant aroma of mint as he sips the drink, is sufficient. The do-crushers insist that the mint should be bruised and crushed so that its flavor is incorporated in the drink itself. But here there are numerous differences as well. Irvin S. Cobb would crush his mint leaves around the interior of the glass with a spoon. The Sealback Hotel of Louisville practice is to bruise the mint on top of the crushed ice in the glass, then pour in the whiskey. The Louisville Pendennis Club would have the mint leaves crushed thoroughly in the bottom of the glass with sugar and a little water, to create a mint-flavored syrup, before the ice and whiskey are put in.

Arkansas planters were fond of cherry bounce. The manufacture of this is supposed to have come about when Negro houseboys would gather up partly used bottles of whiskey belonging to their masters—after their masters were past noticing the bottles—and fill them with freshly picked cherries, and let the mixture steep until Christmas.

(Recipe Furnished by Frankfort Distilleries)

P
ut 12 sprigs fresh mint in bowl, covered with powdered sugar and just enough water to dissolve the sugar, and crush with wooden pestle. Place half the crushed mint and liquid in the bottom of a crackled glass tumbler, or in a sterling silver or pewter tankard. Fill glass half full of finely crushed ice. Add rest of crushed mint and fill remainder of glass with crushed ice. Pour in (trade name omitted) whiskey until glass is brimming. Place in ice-box for at least an hour (preferably two or three hours—if you can wait that long). Decorate with sprigs of mint covered with powdered sugar when ready to serve.

(As Given by John Coyne, Bartender at Drake Hotel, Lexington)

T
ake ten-ounce container, two teaspoons sugar, one ounce of water, glass full of chipped ice. Pour in four ounces of bourbon whiskey. Stir thoroughly. Decorate with plenty of mint (no fruit). Serve with or without straws.

T
he epicureans of other cities seem ‘to keep their eyes skinned’ in regard to the style with which we do up small matters in Natchez. One of the last numbers of the
Philadelphia North American
has the following:

“ ‘
Refinement
—In Natchez they ornament the glasses containing mint juleps with moss roses.’

“This was a fact at the time we made the record; but, now at the present writing, we have newer and more exquisite delicacies. That same ‘moss rose’ house, ‘the Shakespeare,’ now puts strawberries in their milk toddies.

“Mr. Alexander, at the Steam-Boat Hotel, puts strawberries in his mint juleps, and it affords one of the strongest arguments in favor of temperance to see with what avidity the drinkers will dig among the lumps of ice for the strawberries, after the julep has evaporated.”

Mississippi Free Trader and Natchez Gazette
, Natchez, Miss., April 16, 1840, p. 3.

ILLINOIS
—responsible for the region
OHIO
INDIANA
MICHIGAN
MINNESOTA
WISCONSIN
IOWA
NEBRASKA
KANSAS
MISSOURI
SOUTH DAKOTA
NORTH DAKOTA

T
he Midwest is often thought of as the part of the country that isn’t a part of anywhere else. But midwesterners do have a sense of themselves and their own regional identity. And though today the cuisine has been ravaged by fast food, it was a region with a very strong sense of its own food. It was a simple food, based on local products and local traditions, often connected with a specific town. Sometimes it was connected with a certain immigrant group, such as Scandinavian lutefisk. But that was unusual. It was the kind of food best found in people’s homes and not restaurants. Today it is not easy to find local specialties in the Midwest, but it is surprising how strong that sense of regional cuisine was in 1940.

There are many noticeable gaps in the manuscripts left behind by the midwestern part of the project. Not only are certain states, such as Missouri, not represented, but there is nothing on Chicago, not even from Nelson Algren’s original ninety-eight-page manuscript. Had the FWP stayed together and the book been completed, such omissions doubtless would have been corrected.

But despite these deficiencies, the midwestern section seems to hold its own with as interesting and varied a cuisine as other regions, something that seems unimaginable today.

Of course, the Midwest is that part of the country that people long to leave, and midwesterners have a self-mocking charm to their humor. No other region would have produced a piece like “Nebraskans Eat the Weiners.”

HANS CHRISTENSEN

W
hile most Kansans are good trenchermen, few could be regarded as gourmets. The average male Kansan likes to look upon food in quantity, and is not one to bother about the intricacies of the culinary art, although he insists upon good cooking. Heavier foods appeal to him more than the vitamin-laden, but often scantily-portioned dishes prepared by the daughter who has returned from the state college with a degree in “Home Ec.”

A lover of beefsteak is Mr. Average Kansan, with potatoes and gravy, coffee, and pastries for dessert. The urban dweller eats his heaviest meal in the evening and it is known as dinner. Lunch, in the larger cities, is eaten at a downtown restaurant. Breakfast is a hurried affair, usually consisting of toast, cereal and coffee. The evening meal is the most leisurely and its menu often displays a certain degree of culinary sophistication, especially when there are guests to be impressed.

The usual dinner consists of a meat (usually beef ), potatoes baked, mashed or fried; a salad, a side dish of vegetables (fresh in season, otherwise canned), coffee and dessert. The average Kansas housewife seldom serves a soup or an appetizer except for a company dinner, then there is apt to be a fruit or tomato juice cocktail to start the meal. Chicken is considered a treat, and is consumed at Sunday dinners. Turkey is the traditional Thanksgiving fowl and most families prefer it at Christmas, although roast goose has many devotees.

To the Kansan, rural or urban, fried chicken is always associated with the 4th of July as is turkey with Thanksgiving. There is a good reason for this. Spring friers are ready for the pan at this time of the year. Corn on the cob goes well with fried chicken. Corn in the home fields is rarely ready for consumption so early in the season, but the groceryman has it and it’s cheap, so a platter of steaming golden ears inevitably adorns the table when the family sits down for the 4th of July dinner. Probably no dish is so widely acclaimed in Kansas as corn on the cob. Sometimes they are called roasting ears, for in the early days they were actually roasted in an oven or in a bed of coals. Now they are boiled until tender, piled high on a platter or in a vegetable dish, and eaten with the fingers. Butter is spread profusely on the ear, and it is salted and peppered to taste. Sliced tomatoes, green beans and green onions are on the table. Iced tea is the accepted beverage, and it is consumed in large quantities.

The holiday picnic in the summer season, usually 4th of July or Labor Day, is often laid in one of the city parks where there are facilities for that purpose. Outdoor eating is more fun, however, in the early spring or in the fall, when hot food may be prepared over a picnic stove or an open fire. The cool, frosty evenings are best for the steak roast or the weinie roast.

The city dweller welcomes this opportunity to get out of doors, work up an appetite and gorge himself with good, red meat. The method of preparing beefsteak has been undergoing a minor revolution in recent years. Many households are using the grill instead of the skillet and sirloin is fast replacing round steak on the family menu. The steak roast is a traditional social function. In the early days the steak was roasted by holding it over the fire on the end of a pointed stick. More recently it was pan fried. Now it is broiled on a grill over a bed of glowing coals, basted with barbecue sauce and eaten between a sliced bun with fried potatoes and a salad. Most popular of the salads for an outdoor feast of this kind is made with tomatoes, head lettuce, onions, sometimes a bit of garlic. These ingredients are chopped up in a bowl and served on the plate with French dressing.