Curious Facts

Everything below is in the book — each fact links straight to the page it comes from.

At gentlemen's dinners, the rum soufflé arrived on fire. The book notes that Soufflé au Rhum "should be slightly underdone inside," then adds, almost in passing, that "at gentlemen's dinners rum is sometimes poured around soufflé and lighted when sent to table." Read it in the book →
The famous Boston bean-pot gets debunked in its own cookbook. Farmer concedes that the reputation of Boston Baked Beans "has been attributed to the earthen bean-pot with small top and bulging sides," then flatly deflates it: "Equally good beans have often been eaten where a five-pound lard pail was substituted for the broken bean-pot." Read it in the book →
Terrapin travelled north packed in seaweed and had to be cooked alive. Turtles were shipped up from the South "packed in seaweed, and may be kept for some time in a dark place." The salt-water Diamond Back from Chesapeake Bay "command a very high price," and the book is blunt about the method: "They should always be cooked alive." Read it in the book →
To serve raw oysters in style, melt a hole in a block of ice with hot flatirons. "Use a rectangular piece of clear ice, and with hot flatirons melt a cavity large enough to hold the oysters," pouring off the water as fast as it forms. The block was then set on a folded napkin on a platter and garnished with parsley and lemon. Read it in the book →
A delicacy of "unknown function" that vanishes as the calf grows up. The sweetbread is the thymus gland: "It is prenatally developed, of unknown function, and as soon as calf is taken from liquid food it gradually disappears." Buyers are warned that each animal yields a heart and a throat sweetbread, and to "avoid buying two of the throat sweetbreads, as the heart sweetbread is more desirable." Read it in the book →
The book opens by telling women they are to be "loaf givers". A Ruskin epigraph faces the frontispiece: cookery "means the knowledge of Medea and of Circe and of Helen and of the Queen of Sheba," and "the economy of your grandmothers and the science of the modern chemist... it means that you are to be perfectly and always ladies - loaf givers." Read it in the book →
Scotch Woodcock has no woodcock in it, and English Monkey no monkey. Scotch Woodcock is chopped hard-boiled eggs in white sauce seasoned with anchovy; English Monkey is bread crumbs soaked in milk with melted cheese and an egg, "poured over toasted crackers which have been spread sparingly with butter." The chafing-dish chapter is full of such names — Shrimp Wiggle, Devilled Bones, Jack's Oyster Ragout. Read it in the book →
Canapés were the standing-up course, taken with sherry before anyone sat down. Canapés are "served hot or cold, and used in place of oysters at a dinner or luncheon." And: "At a gentleman's dinner they are served with a glass of Sherry before entering the dining-room." Read it in the book →
A winter tomato could cost a dollar and a half a pound. "Hothouse tomatoes are in market during the winter, and command a very high price, sometimes retailing for one and one-half dollars a pound." Winter hothouse asparagus was equally extravagant — "about one dollar per bunch" — and "not very satisfactory." Read it in the book →
University Pudding: frozen custard laced with rum and brandy, served in small beer jugs. It begins as Frozen Tom and Jerry — custard with rum and brandy — then a cup of glacé cherries, Sultana raisins, citron and candied pineapple "soaked in brandy to cover for twelve hours" is beaten in. "Serve in small beer jugs, and garnish with cream, whipped, sweetened, and flavored." Read it in the book →
Fruit sugar was sold under the brand name "diabetin". "Fruit sugar is obtained from sweet fruits, and is sold as diabetin, is sweeter than cane sugar, and is principally used by diabetic patients." The same passage notes grape sugar is only two-thirds as sweet as cane, and appears as the white bloom on raisins and dates. Read it in the book →
Black coffee was recommended for a stomach "overtaxed by a hearty meal". The book states that coffee retards gastric digestion, but that "where the stomach has been overtaxed by a hearty meal, café noir may prove beneficial, so great are its stimulating effects." A period medical opinion, not modern advice. Read it in the book →
A scrod is not a species — it's a cod with its backbone taken out. "A young cod, split down the back, and backbone removed, except a small portion near the tail, is called a scrod." Haddock, the book notes, "is also so dressed." Read it in the book →
Soup was garnished with "Mock Almonds" — bread carved into nut shapes. Stale bread is sliced an eighth of an inch thick, cut with a round cutter, then trimmed "in almond-shaped pieces," buttered and browned. The same chapter offers Fritter Beans squeezed through a colander into hot fat, and a "White Bait Garnish" made of fried puff-paste scraps. Read it in the book →
Massachusetts had just broken Philadelphia's monopoly on capons. "Philadelphia, until recently, furnished our market with Philadelphia chickens and capons, but now Massachusetts furnishes equally good ones." Of the birds themselves: "At an early age they are deprived of the organs of reproduction, penned, and specially fatted for killing." Read it in the book →
Never stew fruit in a tin pan — the book warns of a "poisonous compound". Fruit must be cooked in earthenware or granite ware and stirred with silver or wooden spoons, because all fruits contain acids, and "when exposed to air and brought in contact with an iron or tin surface, a poisonous compound may be formed." Read it in the book →
The author signed her landmark preface with three initials. The preface predicts that "the time is not far distant when a knowledge of the principles of diet will be an essential part of one's education," after which "mankind will eat to live... and disease will be less frequent." It is signed only "F. M. F." — Fannie Merritt Farmer. Read it in the book →