From The Heinz Book of Meat Cookery (1930), HJ Heinz Company
I'm interrupting the semi-regularly scheduled Midnight Sausage series to share molded food images and recipes from my personal collection of early-to-mid 20th century cookbooks. There will be aspic. There will be mousse. There will be various gelatins. All will be semi-solid and of debatable degrees of edibility.
Please feel free to shimmy and shake your way to the comments section to share your very own magical, masticable molds of yore.
From The Best of Taste: The Finest Food of Fifteen Nations (1957), The SACLANT-NATO Cookbook Committee
I'm interrupting the semi-regularly scheduled Midnight Sausage series to share molded food images and recipes from my personal collection of early-to-mid 20th century cookbooks. There will be aspic. There will be mousse. There will be various gelatins. All will be semi-solid and of debatable degrees of edibility.
Please feel free to shimmy and shake your way to the comments section to share your very own magical, masticable molds of yore.
From Cooking with Soup (1968), A Campbell's Cookbook
I'm interrupting the semi-regularly scheduled Midnight Sausage series to share molded food images and recipes from my personal collection of early-to-mid 20th century cookbooks. There will be aspic. There will be mousse. There will be various gelatins. All will be semi-solid and of debatable degrees of edibility.
Please feel free to shimmy and shake your way to the comments section to share your very own magical, masticable molds of yore.
From 500 Snacks: Bright Ideas for Entertaining (1941), Culinary Arts Institute
I'm interrupting the semi-regularly scheduled Midnight Sausage series to share molded food images and recipes from my personal collection of early-to-mid 20th century cookbooks. There will be aspic. There will be mousse. There will be various gelatins. All will be semi-solid and of debatable degrees of edibility.
Please feel free to shimmy and shake your way to the comments section to share your very own magical, masticable molds of yore.
From Dainty Desserts for Dainty People (1915), Knox Gelatine
I'm interrupting the semi-regularly scheduled Midnight Sausage series to share molded food images and recipes from my personal collection of early-to-mid 20th century cookbooks. There will be aspic. There will be mousse. There will be various gelatins. All will be semi-solid and of debatable degrees of edibility.
Please feel free to shimmy and shake your way to the comments section to share your very own magical, masticable molds of yore.
These days, we do what we can to rely on local products, but what about bringing the farm right to your back yard? UK's Sunday Times has published an article on the wonders of mini-cows. That's right -- moo machines that don't need a big farm to thrive. The size of a cuddly German Shepherd, these cows will give you 16 pints of milk a day, chew up that pesky, ever-growing grass, and then become tender, omega3 fats-rich meat at the age of two. It's certainly a way to save costs and get an ever-present supply of milk. Those who have dipped into mini-cow delights will artificially inseminate to produce a new calf per year and get the most for their money.
Now, this sounds great, but I don't think selling people on the temperament of the mini-things is a way to get cows for milk and meals -- "Bessie is not only a 2-year animal friend, but a tasty piece of meat!" Then again, I'm tainted by a childhood experience where I befriended my family's cow before it got slaughtered for meat, and I not only lost a friend, but we couldn't eat her -- the cow had a disease that tainted the meat.
But back to the mini-cows -- is this something you'd add to your backyard?
Looking for a way to make the header of your food blog a little more interesting? Why not use this Value Pack Meat Typeface to give your site a little more meaty goodness? Created by artist Robert Bolesta, each letter was carefully hand-shaped, packed and photographed. I particularly love the details of the font, including the stickers and the fact that each letter includes the price and weight labels.
Despite all the food reading and writing I do, I often find myself falling back on the same five or six dinners. When I get home from work, unless I've planned ahead to try something new, the combination of hunger and weariness drive me to make the things I know by heart. These include things like turkey burgers, omelets, big salads with grilled chicken or a can of tuna, quesadillas, beans and rice with salsa and quick pasta dishes.
Tuesday night, it looked like it was going to be another one of those nights, with more of the same. On auto-pilot, I grabbed a pound of ground beef* from the freezer and set it in a bowl of water to defrost. I cut up some root veggies to roast and chopped up a bit of onion real fine to go in the meat. Instead of forming the meat into regular sized burgers, I decided to go with mini patties, making my very own sliders. It was a little adjustment, but it made for a far more interesting meal. Topped with some local blue cheese, thinly shaved onion, bright red tomato and a ruffled lettuce leaf and sandwiched between two toasted sourdough rounds, it was the best things I've cooked all week.
*One of the smartest things I've done in a long time is join a buying club for meat and poultry. Once a month I place an order and a week later, I pick up a bag of neatly packaged frozen beef, chicken, pork and turkey at a friend's house. It's all local, organic, grass fed/finished and means that there's always something wonderful in the freezer for dinner. It has helped immeasurably with the 'What to do for dinner?' question.
I'm posting images of sausage counters the world over each weeknight (and occasionally weekend) witching hour until I run out. Please use the comments section to post links to your Flickr or personal site faves, and perhaps you'll see 'em posted here late some evening.
Think you can tell cotto salami from Dutch loaf or summer sausage? Prove you're not just full of baloney with AOL Food's Cold Cuts ID Quiz, then come back to share your score.
Last night, I met up with a friend for sushi and a movie. While I was pouring over the nigiri section, he was scheming up his salmon rolls and something super-tasty that I hadn't had before -- Negima Yaki. It's thinly sliced grilled beef wrapped around green onions and lathered in teriyaki sauce. It's basically small rolls of awesome, making me daydream about cooked rolls of beef all day.
And then I see one of yesterday's posts on Serious Eats. It featured the picture above, for rolled flank steak with chimichurri. You can check out the mouth-watering recipe there, but in the meantime:
Do you ever roll up some thin slices of steak for a meal? If so, what are they rolled up with?
Over the past few years, as wine has undergone repeated studies, it has started to seem like the modern-day fountain of youth. According to its various supporters, it can fight off streptococcus bacteria, reduce the risk of Alzheimer's disease, and flush one's system with antioxidants. Still, all of these pale beside wine's greatest claim to fame: the so-called French paradox.
For years, scientists have wondered how the French, who have one of the most saturated-fat rich diets in the world, manage to have such a low incidence of heart disease. While they haven't been able to scientifically determine the mechanism at work, anecdotal evidence has suggested that France's impressive wine consumption might have something to do with the paradox. Recently, scientists at Hebrew University in Jerusalem have confirmed the link and have even determined part of its mechanism.
According to the researchers, when the body digests meat, particularly turkey and red meat, it produces two toxic chemicals, malondialdehyde and hydroperoxide. These compounds can cause cancer, inflammation, and heart disease. However, red wine contains polyphenols, a particular kind of antioxidant, that neutralizes the toxins and prevents their absorbtion into the bloodstream.
Preserved meat counter at an Ipercoop supermarket in Italy. From Flickr user cary b's Flickr.
I'm posting images of sausage counters the world over each weeknight (and occasionally weekend) witching hour until I run out. Please use the comments section to post links to your Flickr or personal site faves, and perhaps you'll see 'em posted here late some evening.
I remember once, while I was around 7 years old and playing at a friend's house, my mom stopped by with lunch for me (they were doing her a favor by watching me and she didn't want to impose on them to feed me as well). It consisted of a napkin-wrapped hot dog that she pulled out of her purse. I remember looking at with distaste, as the hot dog was wrinkled and grey, and the bun was also a sad affair. It was edible, but certainly not exciting. That experience colored my perception of hot dogs and it was years before I ate them with gusto.
Fast forward to the present day and I am singing a very different hot dog song. This conversion is in large part due to gourmet meat producer D'Artagnan's new line of exotic (and very tasty) hot dogs. They come in four varities - pork, beef, buffalo and duck and they are made from meat that was never treated with antibiotics or growth hormones. They are uncured, which means that they are nitrate-free. For all the fancy varieties of meat, they do still taste much like your classic hot dog. Larger than the traditional frank, they are filling, which means that while the pack only comes with four dogs, you'll only need to eat one to be satisfied, so there's plenty to go around.
I recommend eating them with potato salad and some good, whole grain mustard. Very tasty!
The weekend is time for barbecue and so it is the perfect time to feature a gorgeous picture of some saucy, tender ribs. The image comes to us from Michael in Toronto, and he made the ribs based on a recipe out of How to Cook Meat by Chris Schlesinger and John Willoughby. Looked good enough eat!
A jar of honey can become a sticky mess. Next time you're adding honey to another dish or a mug of tea, use a honey dipper to prevent a thick gooey layer from spreading.