Bragging-Rights-And-Blueberry-Boy-Bait
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She found it in that corner— The recipe, so rare. She made it to perfection, And asked us out to share. We had chicken, rolls and salad And things we couldn't make. But oh! the most delectable Was Annie's fresh Dream Cake. Now we're going out to Annie's, Just when the day is fair; For when we tried to make that cake The Dream was one nightmare. Welcome to Vintage Americana, exploring and restoring rural American culture. I'm your hostess, Holly, and today we're going to discuss that most hotly contested of rural skills - baking. Which is not to say that only rural people bake. But women in the country often maintain a reputation based on a specific baked good, for which they are renowned across the entire county. I remember Mrs. Boss was famed for her rolls. For my mother it was usually chocolate chip cookies. Her baked goods were always a draw, but the chocolate chip cookies were her real claim to fame. She made a batch nearly every week, then tucked them into old coffee cans and stored them in the freezer. My sister, my Dad and I each got some in our lunches every day. So beloved were those cookies, that they began to reach legendary status. At my high school graduation open house, in spite of the presence of cake - including Mom's nearly equally sought after chocolate-caramel in-between cake - my cousin sidled up and asked, "Does your Mom still keep chocolate chip cookies around?" "Yep." I responded. "In the coffee can? In the freezer?" "Yep." "Oh, good." The coffee can in question was empty by the end of the afternoon. Because feeding people is an expression of affection and nurturing, many women have (and do!) expend quite a lot of time and energy building skills in the art of food. It's so common, it's become a trope. Mothers, grandmothers, aunts who feed their loved ones. It ties in with hospitality, as well. There was a time when many a woman prided herself on always having something on hand to feed unexpected guests. Or even expected guests. Mom and the chocolate chip cookies were standard. Other baked good often meant company was expected. As curious little children, my sister and I tended to view Mom's baking habits as something of a canary in the coal mine. One afternoon, she was in the kitchen, making a batch of brownies. This was out of pattern. "Who's coming over?" She gave me an arch look. "Just making brownies does NOT mean that someone is coming over. Sometimes I just like to make brownies." Fair enough, I supposed, and wandered into the living room. Then my sister came down the stairs - drawn, most likely, by the alluring scent of chocolate beginning to fill the air. Mom's brownies are another recipe rather unique to here - a dense, fudgy confection utterly unlike anything that ever came out of a box mix. My sister stood on tiptoes to see what was in the saucepan. (It never did to get in Mom's way when she was in the kitchen.) "Who's coming over?" she asked. Mom was beginning to get a little annoyed. "I don't know why you just assume someone is coming over. I make brownies for you all the time!" Patently untrue. But not worth the wrath that would ensue by arguing the point. About now Dad came in from the yard, and noticed the telltale signs of incipient brownies. "Who's coming over?" he asked. Mom gave up. "The Vohwinkles!" she huffed. Busted. This was a habit she came by honestly. He great Aunt Jennie famously cleaned her house on Friday and baked on Saturday just in case anyone stopped by for coffee after church on Sunday. While it's true that offering a small bit of baked delight was occassionally an exercise in one-ups-manship, that subtle wrangling was formalized by baking contests that proved the competitive spirit of the aproned set was equal to anything seen on the grid iron. One of the more common outlets even now is the county fair. A blue ribbon, or even better, that rarest of honors, a Sweepstakes, confers an invisible pastry crown for the next year. If you've never been, most county fairs don't have a public participation in the tasting. In fact, most of them don't have public judging. Instead, you drop off your item, and then circle back later to see what - if any - ribbon is on your entry. And, naturally, to see what ribbons might be on OTHER people's entries... Some fairs do an outright ranking systems - the usual first, second, third, etc. There may or may not be a "Best in Show" ribbon to award. And sometimes a Sweepstakes ribbon is reserved for a particularly worthy entry - although it may not be awarded every year. Others use what's called "The Danish System," where entrants are judged against a standard, rather than against each other. So, multiple blue ribbons may be awarded, for instance. It's like your school grades. More than one student could get an A, if they did the work well. There are, too, fairs that included the baked goods entries in the auctions. All of the entries that place above a certain level are admitted to the auction that same evening. Just like a livestock or antique auction, each item goes to the highest bidder. If you have a good crowd and a good sense of humor, a little salesmanship and can increase your take! It also helps to know which items are crowd favorites, if your goal is to have the high sale. Cakes, for instance, might sometimes go for $200! The usual system splits the earnings between the entrant and the fair board, so it makes for a great fundraiser. Entering baked goods in the county fair is such a long standing tradition that it is something of an old movie trope. If you've never, go find the movie "State Fair." First, everybody should also make time for more Rodgers and Hammerstein musicals. I'm listening to the soundtrack while I write up my notes for this episode. Second, one of the threads of the plot revolve around Mrs. Frake and her mincemeat pie - entered against the woman who always wins first place! Later on, we'll have a talk about entering things in the County Fair, why you should and how to do it. I promise. The second of the Baking Bout Trifecta is a good old fashioned Box Social. This one may be unfamiliar to thoroughly modern misses, but it was a common activity. If you want to see one in action, go stream "Oklahoma!" (back to Rogers and Hammerstein, yet again!) The basic jist is that all the young ladies who are taking part pack a box or hamper with a meal for two - culminating in her best dessert. Then, the boxes are auctioned off. The young man who buys the hamper gets the meal, and the company of the young lady who made it. Simple, yes? Now, hypothetically, those hampers are all anonymous. But of course many a girl told her young man which box was hers. Or, as likely, a girl known for a specific dish would make her hamper identifiable by making it. Whether it's Laurie's hamper or Tiana's man catchin' beignets, we're all familiar with the concept. Vintage ads abound with similar sentiments. Swan's Down Cake flour reminds readers of Household magazine that "Men love Swan's Down Cakes - and the girls who make them!" and include a recipe for Pink Heaven Cake. Another encourages bakers to, "Put stars in his eyes with this Sugarplum Spice Cake." And another trumpets that "Swans Down mixes make Kissin' cakes!" And, of course, if you've conquered the county fair - and maybe the state fair, and been the Belle of the Box Social, it was time to tackle the Grand Daddy of them all: The Pillsbury Grand National, later known as the Pillsbury Bake-off. Before the Great British Baking Show. Before Cupcake Wars. The Bake-off was the Queen of baking contests. Starting in 1949, the competition encouraged home bakers to enter their best recipes. 100 finalists would compete in person - first in New York, later in Los Angeles, for cash prizes. It's been a part of American baking culture ever since. My mother went through much of the 80's and 90's with a dogged determination to win the Bake-off. Although she never so much as made it to the finals, anyone who knew her got to enjoy the cast-offs as she perfected and tweaked. I think my very favorite of her creations was a set of sweet scones made with frosting as the required ingredient. Used to replace much of the fat and sugar in the recipe, the frosting made for some delightfully soft, gooey treats. Maybe I'll share the recipe out on the blog, I've always saved it because I really thought they were a cut above much of the other recipes of the day that used mixes or other convenience products. Each year, after the finals had taken place, all the 100 final recipes would be published in a booklet. That booklet appeared in the grocery store check out shelves, and Mom would scour them until she got a copy. Scoping out the competition and planning for next year. The Bake-Off launched some recipes that have entered American baking lexicon and never left.