Aprons and Hankies: Time, Ties and Trends

Aprons and hankies. What is it about these vintage textiles that makes our hearts go pitty-pat like they do?

Is it the memories of our mothers, our grandmothers? I don't know. Grandma was a fan of the housecoat, and my dear mom was more inclined to find flour on her jeans than she was on any apron. And hankies, well, Mom received one each year as a gift from a beloved family friend. These remained squirreled away in a drawer for safe-keeping for a day that would never come. They were too precious to use, she said. Too important to tuck into a sleeve, to dare touch a nose in need. They existed entombed wood and in mothballs, waiting for some curious archaeologist to break them free some day. They belonged in a museum, not in daily life.

Well, maybe it's the texture. The soft, gentle feel of a handkerchief against the cheek. The starched, crispness of a crepey apron.


Perhaps it the color. Vibrant shades that call to mind the joy of culinary exploration. Of the smart reuse in a casserole. Of the order and art of a Jell-O mold.

Or maybe it's the patterns. A garden of flowers abound, and a year of holidays is celebrated, all in this fabric of the past.


But most likely, it's all of these, and more. As the years have passed, aprons and hankies have become symbols-- not of our oppression as wives, mothers, and career women and home-makers-- but of a gentler time. Of some idealized place in our minds and hearts where there's always something baking in the kitchen, and where good manners still exist, inviting you in to have a seat and a cup of tea. In a world that may feel cold, harsh and entirely too busy, aprons and hankies are tangible representations of the little niceties that bring comfort and stability, femininity and love.

It's probably a place that never really quite existed. The standards are just too high.



I still see Mom with the flour on her jeans, a box of Puffs in the kitchen. But as I make her Crock-pot potroast this morning, to simmer all day, the scent wafting through the house the way I did the home in which I grew up three decades ago, the aprons and hankies still somehow say what needs to be said. Here's me, cooking in my pajamas, of all things. Not bothering to style my hair first. To put on heels. To tie that apron to my waist. But the hankies adorn a table top. An apron might serve as a valance.

They make me happy to see because they say the niceties are still here. With us. Ready to make home a place worth coming back to. They're just a little bit different now.

Well, that's all for today. If you missed my Wednesday feature "Good Books and New Blogs" you might want to click here to check that out. That has a fun little tag, as well as an announcement about new bloggy goodness. And maybe I'll see you THIS Wednesday as we have another "Treasure Box" feature which showcases some finds uncovered in the South Hills. (Yes, I actually wasn't snowed on and made it out to the thrifts this week!) Take care, my nice invisible friends. Thanks for being there.

Good Books and New Blogs

Because Mother Nature put the kibosh on thrifting this weekend by tossing down more of that tiresome white stuff, I'm afraid there's nothing spiffy to showcase in the Treasure Box this Wednesday. But that doesn't mean I've forgotten about you all! Nope-- instead, I have something completely different...

TWO somethings, really. The first is a happy little announcement:

I've just launched a brand new blog...


It's called, "Of Cabbages and Kings" and while it's 100% thrift-free (and hypo-allergenic!) it's designed to tickle your funny bone. This last year while writing The Thrift Shop Romantic, I've had ideas for posts that wouldn't quite fit here. And rather than MAKE them fit-- like the way my grandpa used to try to put puzzles together (THAT was always interesting... Many a puzzle bit the dust that way, let me tell you)-- I decided to branch it off into a blog of its own. If you have a moment, I'd love it if you'd check it out:

http://cabbages-n-kings.blogspot.com

Okay, NEXT! I have a Tag to fulfill from my "invisible friend" Ms. A. over at Livingwithoutmoney.blogspot. Actually, this is a pretty fun tag, too, because it's the first one I've participated in that's dealt with books. Also, I'm never not reading SOMETHING. This tag asks for the tagged blogger to share the book she's currently reading, and then enter a few paragraphs from it. Mine happens to be the Hotel Paradise by Martha Grimes.


For those unfamiliar with her, Martha Grimes is a mystery novelist with a knack for wit and an unexpectedly poetic turn-of-phrase. Though she's an American living in Maryland, one of her best-known detecting duos is British-- Detective Superintendent Richard Jury and his friend, the eccentric Melrose Plant.

This particular book, however, is not a part of that series, (though lovers of mystery, you might really enjoy it). Instead, in The Hotel Paradise, Grimes turns to small town America in the 60s and transports us to a time where gentility was still something people valued, and where the present is haunted by the mysteries of the past. The story follows pre-teen Emma, a precocious girl with a Nancy Drew streak, as she examines questionable events in town history which others have long forgotten or set aside.

The tone and atmosphere of the book is reminiscent of Harper Lee's "To Kill A Mockingbird," painting pictures of the small town folk and adult-sized problems from Emma's smart, sassy perspective.

Much of the book has the feel of the elegant or eccentric deep South-- and as a result, the descriptions are something I think any romantic decorator could easily get behind. Those are a couple of the passages I'll share with you today.

We join Emma as she visits Miss Flagler and Miss Flyte, two elderly ladies who run quaint adjoining shops within the town.

With her cat named Albertine and her comfortable kitchen with its smell of cinnamon and ginger, I imagine there are worse lives than Miss Flagler's... I am sometimes invited to share their morning coffee or afternoon tea (oh, those fresh cinnamon buns!) and could think of them as just putting up with me, but I don't. For some reason I feel at home with old ladies, as if I wear, in my ancient twelve-year-old soul, pince-nez and cardigans...

We sit on turquoise and buttercup-yellow painted wooden chairs (that have me revising my notion of a lack of gaiety in Miss Flagler's life) pulled up to the white kitchen table. In winter we are warmed in front of the black cast-iron stove into which Miss Flagler shovels fresh coals...

Soon, as an introduction to pumping her adult friends for information, Emma gets the older ladies to begin reminiscing about their youth and a particular social event of the time...

Miss Flagler's dress had been ice-green organdy, with a silk lining. She had worn it to a garden party, which she described to me as "all white": white dresses, white suits, white pumps, white roses, white-iced cakes.

I was momentarily carried away, or carried back, to this fairy world of garden parties and organdy dresses. I have personal experience of neither. I try to picture Miss Flagler moving airily around in her ice-green organdy, a punch cup in one hand and a plate of tiny sandwiches in the other. The color sounded both cool and delicious. I decided it must be the color of Albertine's eyes.

Those pretty bits of purple prose enchanted me while I was sitting at the car dealership recently, reading and waiting for my car to finish inspection. (Of course, most things seem romantic compared to emissions testing.)

Anyway, I guess I need to tag five people in turn. So here goes:

• Rose Mary at Life in a Cordwood Cabin (because I know she's always reading, too!)
• Rosemary at Rose's Petite Maison (because I play no favorites between my friends named Rose :) )
• Lidian at Kitchen Retro (because she's funny and I think would have something witty to share
• Vallen of Queenly Things (because this woman really knows how to write)
• and Lynn over at the Vintage Nest (because she's always up to something fun)
  

That said, for those who might have missed Sunday's post regarding some questionable serving tips courtesy of Amy Vanderbilt, click here. And for the rest of my online friends, may this week bring you a spring in your step, and some Spring in your weather, too.

Artichoked Up Over Befuddling Vintage Vittles

Ah, Amy Vanderbilt: the Martha Stewart of yesteryear. But even Martha has her "off" days, right? (Cooking and crafting ones, I mean. Not ones that involve electronic ankle bracelets; this blog can only cover so much.)

What I'm trying to say is: not all creative ideas withstand the test of time... or, say, make it comfortably through the digestive process. And those are the recipes I hope you'll get some grins from today.

The first comes from the 1966 Amy Vanderbilt Success Program for Women cookbook, "Serving Food Attractively."


The book tells us, "Artichokes, halved, filled with jellied madrilene and topped with a slim slice of lemon are beautiful to look at and wonderful to eat." Merriam-Webster defines madrilene as "a consumme flavored with tomato." So basically, we're talking cold brothy-tomatoey jelly veg-nests here.

To look at this dish and its display-- complete with spoon-- reminds me a bit of the dinner scene in Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom. Only they used monkey heads instead of artichokes.

But what is it we have over here? The book tells us an important part of good eating is in the presentation. So what exactly adorns our table?


Why, artichoke candlestick holders, of course! Made from fresh artichokes. And over here on the wall-- what says Old World Charm more than a wrought-iron wall plaque adorned with... yes, that's right... MORE real artichokes?


Ah, dig deep into your refrigerators, my friends-- it could be a whole new world of decorating inspiration. Store salt in your squash, pepper in your pears, and hang shallots from your chandelier to give it that special je ne sais quois (translation, "Why the heck is THAT up there?).

Do you test spaghetti by tossing a strand against the wall? Leave it. Enough pots of pasta and soon, you'll have a unique, handcrafted sculpted art installation, envied by all your closest friends who also tap into the Food Pyramid for decor options.

And when you tire of it? The candlesticks and wall art of today might just be the main course of tomorrow. There's no END to the possibilities.

Or, you could just, you know, shell out five bucks for some thrifted candlesticks and some paintings. Either way, really.

Well, how about this?

Here we are in the Tower of London. Ah!-- aren't the Crown Jewels stunning? And--

Oops, my bad. That's lamb. But, wait, what's that bubbling up from inside that little roast volcano?


A little hard to tell from here. Let's read the caption, shall we?

"Try your favorite recipe for crown roast of lamb. Top it with a combination of sauerkraut, rice and honey..."

Sauerkraut, rice and honey? So... okay, cabbage and then...

"Brussels sprouts make a flowery center for a frill of golden yams, and the spectacular spumoni make this an exciting holiday dinner."

I'll say it'll be exciting! A holiday dinner of twenty people devouring heaping plates of cabbage and brussels sprouts? And we all know what Great-Uncles Ernest and Eugene were like at the family picnic after a couple of plates of baked beans. With great mounds of these gaseous greens, a Silent Night it's unlikely to be!

Well, let's move from the holiday table to more practical, everyday eating, with the Amy Vanderbilt Success Program For Women "Casserole Cookery" book. And this book truly understands the pain of the modern 60s homemaker:

"Does your husband groan when you mention you are going to have a casserole for dinner?... Between you and me, many a delectable casserole has been made from left-overs, but husbands usually have to be shielded from the information that left-overs are the prime ingredient..."

(The poor dear flowers. So sensitive.)

"...Casserole cooking should be creative and stimulating, both in an intellectual and gustatorial manner..."

That's right, folks. "Intellectual" and "stimulating." So with that, I give you:


Kraut and Frankfurter Tahitian-- "a flavorful combination of sauerkraut, pineapple, onion, green pepper and frankfurters."

Ah, Tahiti... the waves, the breeze, the outdoor stands where you can get a red-hot with kraut on it for just under a Pacific franc.

What, you'd heard Tahitian cuisine was based on the island's French and Polynesian heritage? No, no, no! That's just for TOURISTS. TRUE island cuisine reflects all the processed meat gusto of an Oktoberfest in Munich. Remember, this dish is "intellectual." So it knows about culture and context and all of that stuff the rest of us don't. Trust the cookbook. It's a lot smarter than we are.

As proven by the inclusion of this little guy...


This is the island god, Ozca Maia. He's protector of the processed meats and ensures the prosperity of the island's vast cabbage plantations. You use him to distract your husband from the fact he's eating leftovers by prompting a fresh and exciting dinnertime conversation.

Conversation like, "Honey, what is this wooden thing, and why does it look like it's yodeling?"

That's when you tell him that yodeling was a popular ancient Polynesian pasttime, vital to tribal morale and communication. In fact, Tahitian Idol, as they called it, was the island's most popular weekly evening event.

See, how much more this cookbook knows than we do?

Now that we're done with cultural exploration of the South Seas, we move on to our friends in the North. The Far North. With "Swedish Pancakes with Tuna."


Note the gelatinous mold in the background, which is a to-scale replica of Sweden's famous ice hotel...

Or possibly the end scene in Ghostbusters after Mr. Stay-Puft exploded over that art deco apartment building.


Well, ice hotel or achitecture coated in nuked Fluff , it's an elegant way to showcase your culinary talents and distract your guests from the pot o' cheesy fishy bed-rolls before them.

Finally, today we unveil a side dish...


"Red Cabbage with Marrons and Bacon." This is described as "a delicious combination of flavors and a good accompaniment to meat, especially pork." Because, of course, what goes better with pork than... more pork? These vintage cookbooks are about nothing if not variety.

That aside, in my own ignorance, (because as I'd said before, I'm not as intellectual as this cookbook), I had to look up what marrons are. Merriam-Webster defines marrons as "chestnuts, and especially Spanish chestnuts, preserved in vanilla-flavored syrup."

So, looking at the full ingredients here, we're talking cabbage, bacon, red wine, a quarter pound of butter, and then nuts preserved in vanilla-flavored syrup?

The nice thing about this dish is how it caters to the low-cal heart-health set.

And best of all, when you're reaching for your insulin and clutching your chest from the angina, you might not even think about how much this dish looks like a human rights organization example of how undetected landmines hurt millions every year.

In the mood to read additional posts on questionable recipes of the past? You might enjoy:

• "Dubious Dinner and Riotous Retro Recipes," where sausages swim in synchronized routines and vegetarian dishes may very well be man-eating... click here

• Or "The Horrors of Home Cooking: Recipes of Yesteryear" where Worchestershire sauce demonstrates its versatility as well as its ability to instill gastronimic fear. Click here for that one.

Or, if that's not your style-- click here to check out last "Treasure Box Wednesday: In the Pink with Pottery, Pyrex and Plates."

Otherwise, I hope to see you this coming Wednesday! (Hmmm... I'm hungry. Time to remove that vegetable wall display and have a nosh.)