Photo: Kat Kinsman.

It would seem that Zero Mostel was a sucker for foot jelly -- a veritable fiddler on the hoof. And it must be said that there's a tremendous visceral appeal in having a trotter all a-bubble on the stovetop for the better part of a day. For goodness sakes, many a savory pie or festive aspic demands it, and heaven forfend that boeuf go sans gelée.

It's the "pleasant gas" part of this recipe that perplexes. Sure, Sammy Davis Jr. was all peppy for petrol in this early '60s Shell Oil ad, but it's not especially likely that the Candy Man was tapping out "What a Gas!" in celebration of cholodetz. Seeing as I had a Styrofoam tray full of cow feet in the freezer on this past, rain-drenched Saturday, it seemed written in the stars -- or by the stars assembled by Ms. Dinah Shore in her 1966 "The Celebrity Cookbook" -- that I find out for myself.

Read on for highlights from 'The Celebrity Cookbook' and see how the Calf's Foot Jelly recipe turned out after the jump.

Scanned from Cooking and Traveling the Cape Cod Way (1953)

Forefather's Day isn't celebrated until tomorrow, but I'm posting this in anticipation of the East Coast's wintry mix blowing up the collective skirt of many folks' salt pork acquisition schedules. I'm a huge sucker for dishes made expressly in observance of regionally significant holidays and events -- especially so when the tenor of the recipe matches the spirit of the occasion. In New Orleans at Mardi Gras, it's all wild-hued, cream-slathered King Cake. On a chilly Christmas Eve in North Carolina, there is sweet, hot Moravian Love Feast coffee, and light potatoey buns, made to be split and shared.

It seems appropriate that a feast in commemoration of the Pilgrims' arrival in a bitter and bleak new terrain would involve some rather hardscrabble fare -- sustenance and utility, rather than sybaritic excess. Then again, I could be projecting 'cause I've never met a succotash I've really liked. Should I be able to get my frozen paws on some pea beans within the next 24 hours, I'll give this one a go.

If you should decide to do the same, please let us all know how it goes in the comments below. All I ask is that you remember to pay for the corn.

Scanned from Time to Entertain by Charlotte Turgeon (1954)

Fifty-four years after this printing, I'm hard-pressed to argue with Ms Turgeon on the import of having a few staple schmancy things tucked around the house, should mid-week meal boredom encroach or a party break out. Can't say I'm especially aligned with her specifics, but that could easily be a function of the 5+ decade divide.

I pride myself on being able to entertain at a moment's notice, due to the presence of these just-slightly-left of my central (olive oil, stock, Parmesan, fish sauce, double-black soy, tomato paste, rice/red wine/balsamic vinegars, fresh herbs) everyday ingredients.

Scanned from Be Milwaukee's Guest, Recipes Collected and Tested by the Junior League of Milwaukee - 1959

I could scarcely be crankier at myself for muffing the opportunity to present this comb-bound recipe gem on a particularly Wisconsin-centric holiday, such as the recently passed St. Nick's Day, but hey -- any day is a great day for pork cake!

I'm a big fan of the melding of meat and sweet (mmm...bacon candy...), and surely have been known to savor a sumptuously larded crust, but I can't swear that I've ever seen a baked good quite so aggressively piggy as this. Pinwheel rolls studded with flecks of seasoned ground beef, yes, but those were generally presented as a savory, hand-wielded Wellington sort of course rather than spiced, as this seems to be, in the manner of a dessert or breakfast sweet. I'm pleading woeful ignorance about the pastries of the Badger State here, so might someone be so kind as to enlighten me -- is this a traditional Wisconsin breakfast or dessert treat, or a relic of the cookbook's era? If the former, I'm booking a trip on Midwest Airlines posthaste. If the latter -- who's up for a bake-along this weekend?

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.

Previously - Vegetable Supper Salad

From The Silent Hostess Treasure Book (1931), 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.

Previously - Brain Loaf

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.

Previously - Jellied Bouillon with Frankfurters

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.

Previously - Corned Tongue in Aspic

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.

Previously - Ham Mousse

Not only does Betty Crocker's New Dinners for Two contain a wealth of retro recipes, it also offers some rather unusual advice. Specifically, I am referring to the "Sunset Years Guide", a list of dietary tips found at the back of the book. It starts off well enough, advising people to keep protein as part of their diet, but it then begins to fly in the face of what is now the typical medical advice to people in their "sunset years". In addition to recommending that one avoid high fiber foods, the book suggests that "eating creamed foods, custards, cheeses and ice cream" are good ways to keep calcium intake high. It also selects liver and egg yolks as being excellent sources of nutrients, along with green leafy vegetables and citrus. In fairness, the "guide" concludes by making the recommendation that high fat foods should be substituted for lower fat ones, although it seems as though that might prove difficult with all the egg yolks and ice cream someone in their "sunset years" should be eating.

[Photo by Nicole Weston]

Looking through older cookbooks is always entertaining. There are almost always lots of interesting illustrations and the recipes themselves even have entertainment value. Betty Crocker’s New Dinner for Two cookbook has some good recipes and some ones whose popularity didn’t last beyond 1964.  The book is geared for anyone who is a "bride, a buisness girl, career wife, or a mother whose children are away from home," so all the recipes serve one or two, with a few large-scale ones thrown in for entertaining purposes. This is the first edition of the book, those subsequent versions were released into the 1980s.

Perfection Salad made me laugh out loud, with a combination of pickles, pimento, celery and cabbage, suspended in lemon-flavored gelatin and served with mayonnaise. I wasn’t tempted by that one. Peanut Crunch Slaw and Tuna and Chips Casserole were not likely to make my mouth water, either. Strawberry Shortcake, Ham and au Gratin Potatoes and Grapefruit and Avocado Salad all sounded fine, though, and I think that I might even be persuaded to try the Pineapple Marshmallow cream.