I'm not gonna lie -- I'm rough on my books. There's a school of thought treating the physical manifestation of the written word as a sacred object, and I fully respect that. However I, for one, shove an old copy of "How to Cook a Wolf" into the bottom of my bag with the notion that at some point it'll sustain me on an overextended subway ride. I read "The Devil in the Kitchen" in the bathtub, A.J. Liebling over a lunchtime reuben, and good gosh a-mighty are my cookbooks covered in schmutz.

But hey, it's thematic goo; "Molto Italiano" is spattered in tomato sauce, "Pie" -- seen above -- is all a-smear in lard, "Charleston Receipts" in Otranto Club Punch and "Staff Meals from Chanterelle" slicked with a fine mist of rendered rind bacon. To my mind, these books are being honored, used, proven. Should these books at some point have a subsequent owner, they'll know what's been tested, made and made again.

Still, am I dishonoring the object or the authors when I'm getting the books all mucky? I posed the question to Matthew Lee (whose book "The Lee Bros. Southern Cooking" I've doused in all manner of pickling brine), and he noted that he and his co-author, his brother Ted have debated pre-mucking-up copies of their book to nix the blank canvas factor. The recipes therein are warm of heart and humble of origin, so it's not out of character, but would, say, a gellan-gumming of Grant Achatz's "Alinea" be a crime against the rather expensive and exceptionally lovely object?

Do you keep your cookbooks in pristine condition, or do you just accept page stains as collateral damage?

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?

Lo these many years ago, a UK-born boss of mine attempted to wheedle me into swifter production by offering me a small mincemeat pie if I finished a pressing task by 4 p.m. I begged to be allowed to take only half if I knocked it out by 3, and remain fully un-minced if I had everything squared away by 2.

In theory, I should love traditional mincemeat. I'm a huge fan of a meat 'n sweet one-two punch -- especially when there's cookin' booze involved -- but I've never been able to wrap my head around the flavor of suet. It's the hard fat from around the loins and kidneys of sheep and cows, isn't especially full and meaty like lard, and is possessed of a particularly high melting point, making it the perfect base fat for many classic British steamed puddings. It seems to be the definitive flavoring agent in all the mincemeat I've had, but I've not been able to convince myself to care for it. I tend to be a stickler when it comes to ingredient lists for traditional dishes from my vintage cookbooks, but I'm wondering if there's a fat I can sub in that would render a texture that would cleave closely to the original. Most suet-centric recipes I've come across warn that the use of butter, margarine, lard, shortening et al leaves the whole dish overly greasy and flat, but if any of y'all have met with a successful swap, I'm all ears. There may even be a bit of Spotted Dick in it for you.

Other Cooking and Traveling the Cape Cod Way highlights include Forefather's Day Succotash (look for that recipe on December 21st), Beach Plum Jelly, Irish Moss Pudding, Scootin'-Long-The-Shore, Skully Joe and a wicked lot of mouthwatering Portuguese cookery. I'm more than happy to share if there's any interest.

I found this adorable retro cooking-and-lifestyle book from 1965 in a vintage store in Wisconsin. Enchanted by the title, I picked it up (for fifty cents) and have never regretted it.

Written by two Stanford roommates, this book is hilariously frank and provides great tips the modern Bachelorette can still use.

Example: Here's an excerpt from the Table of Contents:

4. Food fit for a...

• Man in a Brooks Brothers Suit
• Man's Man
• Man in a Garret
• Lover with a Leica
• Man in the Gray Flannel Lederhosen

The list goes on. It's not misogynistic, it's hysterical. Other chapters include "Deadly Little Dinners" and "Happiness is a Very Dry Martini." Each includes an introduction, usually with an anecdote, and often with a warning about putting plastic bags over your head or something silly. I'm certain that Jinx and Judy would have been girlfriends of mine.

I recommend this book. And guess what a simple Googling told me? In 2006, they updated the book! Same gals, still funny. Visit saucepansandthesinglegirl.com to read about it and see where to buy!

I added this volume to my ever-growing collection of vintage cookbooks while I was in Chestertown, MD over Labor Day weekend. It was sitting on the shelf, a burst of vibrant, mid-century color amidst a row of brown and mustard-colored spines from the seventies. As you can see from the price tag on the cover (I couldn't get it off without ripping the dust jacket), I paid $3 for it. That's more than I typically pay for interesting old cookbooks, but I just couldn't let this one slip away.

Written by the Spice Islands Home Economics Staff, The Spice Islands Cook Book was published in 1961 and offered housewives a comprehensive guide on how to incorporate a full spectrum of spices into their cooking.

In addition to offering 150 pages of recipes (everything from appetizers to main dishes to drinks), the authors also incorporated a comprehensive glossary of herbs, so that those cooks who wanted to learn more about the rosemary they were sprinkling into their meals would have easy access to information. There is also a table of equivalents that offers tips on how to substitute one ingredient for another so that a recipe wouldn't be ruined by an empty spice bottle.

Some of the standout recipes from the book include Herb Corn Bread (page 128), Hawaiian Bean Pot (page 94) and the Greek Walnut Cake (page 142). Heidi at 101 Cookbooks also has a copy of this volume and several years ago, posted the recipe from it for Gold Coast French Toast. Yum!

In the days before the internet, cooking shows had to figure out an easy way for viewers to get a hold of the recipes featured on their programs. There was typically an address that one could write to to obtain the recipes. Alternately, they would leave the ingredient list and instructions up on the screen for some time at some point during the program, so that a quick transcriptionist could hurriedly jot them down. Sometimes, the only option for the viewer was to take notes while watching (my Aunt Doris always watched Julia Child with steno pad and pencil in hand).

This book, Julia Child and Company, was something of a revolution. Printed in 1978, it came out at the very same time as Child's show of the same name began to air. That way, viewers could watch the show at leisure, unworried about catching every nuance of the recipe as they knew they'd have Child's clear and careful written instructions to reference later on. Now, thirty years later, we can't follow along with the series, but we can still utilize the recipes in the book.

It is organized by menu, which is fun in that you can see just how Child would have served a meal (it's not just French food in this volume, she incorporates a variety of cultural favorites). However, if you don't want to recreate an entire show's worth of food, you do have to poke around a bit more to find what you're looking for. If you're a fan of Child and want another opportunity to "hear" her calm, helpful voice in the kitchen, this is a good book to add to your collection.

Just in time for 2008, I'm reviving a Slashfood feature that went fallow sometime last spring. That's right, I'm talking about the venerable Cookbook of the Day! However, I'm adding a twist. In addition to featuring new cookbooks, I'll also be shining the spotlight on an assortment of vintage, kitschy and community cookbooks from my very eclectic collection. And let me tell you, I've got some doozies.

Today's Cookbook of the Day is James Beard's Fireside Cookbook. Written in 1949, it is billed as the "Original basic cook book by America's foremost culinary authority." I think that Joy of Cooking and Fannie Farmer might argue with that particular assertion, but it is does offer a comprehensive assortment of recipes. The best part of this cookbook is the narrative that is interspersed among the many recipes. Beard's voice comes through so strongly in this book that it feels as if he is speaking directly to you.

This volume is currently out of print, but there are a number of used copies available on Amazon.

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.

  

Has your baking bug bit? Here's one way: take a peek in a vintage cookbook, especially one like Amy's beautiful Fleishmann's pamphlet. It makes me just want to head to the kitchen and bury my fingers in flower, butter, sugar and lots and lots of cinnamon. On my schedule for tonight's late-night baking fix: either orange-lemon bundt cake or toasted hazelnut cake from Patricia Wells' Trattoria (I'm in love with Patricia today). Hmm...

Are you inspired to bake in this gray, drizzly, cold days?