The Cost of Weird Old Books
I’ve realized that the appeal of strange, old books outweighs the financial cost and space constraints of bringing them home from thrift stores. So, I’ve resisted the temptation to indulge in these novelty items. Yet, sometimes, I just can’t resist.
The Tale of MEAT COOK BOOK
In 1965, Better Homes & Gardens released a cookbook titled MEAT COOK BOOK. Despite its unassuming title, this culinary guide exclusively focuses on meat. From kebabs to meat rings to dishes drenched in shredded Velveeta, this book covers them all. Its popularity soared, leading to an impressive eight printings by 1967, suggesting its enduring appeal.
Exploring MEAT COOK BOOK
Flipping through MEAT COOK BOOK, I couldn’t help but notice its impeccable condition. It seemed untouched, as if it had never ventured into a kitchen. Perhaps it was the result of being a well-meaning but unused gift. Alternatively, some previous owners may have cherished it enough to purchase a second copy, which they actually used. It’s intriguing to consider the stories behind each copy of this book—some pristine, others marked with stains and dog-eared pages.
Unveiling the Mystery of MEAT COOK BOOK
Is MEAT COOK BOOK the worst cookbook ever assembled, or is it a beloved relic of American culinary history? To find out, I’ve decided to delve into its recipes. I’ll be the daring explorer, venturing into the uncharted territory of dishes like “Liver Loaf” and jello-based creations. Join me on this journey as we taste the flavors of 1967 together.
The Fancy Transformation of Franks: Wiener Winks
Let’s start with a dish that combines whimsical presentation with ingredients we can actually imagine eating together. Feast your eyes on Wiener Winks, the franks dressed in toasty jackets! We won’t dwell on the questionable “creole” skillet or the mystery of the “sour” element—today, we won’t be boiling any hot dogs in sauce. However, we can still make franks fancy.
The Wiener Winks Adventure Begins
Wiener Winks call for butter, yet the recipe doesn’t explicitly include it. It assumes that every home cook in 1967 has a stick of butter constantly at hand. So why bother specifying its presence? The use of “fat” as an ingredient throughout the book, without mentioning butter, adds to this assumption. It’s clear that butter is a given—after all, you’re cooking!
The Recipe: Wiener Winks
- 8 frankfurters
- 8 thin slices of bread, crusts removed
- 1/2 cup grated Parmesan cheese
- 3 tablespoons finely chopped onion
- 3 tablespoons prepared mustard
- 8 stuffed green olives
- Boil frankfurters in water for 5 to 8 minutes. Drain.
- Butter one side of the bread. Dip the buttered side in grated cheese. Combine onion and mustard. Spread the mixture on the unbuttered side of the bread, placing a frankfurter diagonally on each slice. Secure the two opposite corners of the bread with a toothpick. Place the bread side down on a broiler pan. Toast for 2 to 3 minutes on each side, broiling it 3 inches from the heat. Garnish with olives on toothpicks.
Wiener Winks: A Simple Adventure
One of the most appealing aspects of this recipe is its simplicity. After weeks of complex directions, it’s refreshing to find a recipe that only requires chopping onions and buttering bread. Wiener Winks are an excellent introduction to the cookbook’s world. However, be warned! The toothpick placement and broiling distance proved challenging for me, and I managed to burn everything in the process. It seems I’m not as sharp as the 1967 housewife, Valium-free.
The Taste Test: Wiener Winks
As we suspected, Wiener Winks were not as repulsive as anticipated. They were surprisingly palatable, as long as you aren’t put off by olives or have an aversion to copious amounts of butter. These peculiar hot dogs, peeking out from their toasty jackets, reside in buttery buns with a hint of Parmesan that serves no apparent purpose. While the recipe may be unnecessary and strange, it’s not the revolting encounter we expected.
The question remains: Is this a point against or in favor of MEAT COOK BOOK? I find myself perplexed, unable to choose sides. Well played, 1967. Until we embark on our next meaty adventure, farewell.