Sunday, June 15, 2014

Woolton Pie with Potato Pastry

We'll Eat Again: A collection of recipes from the war years selected by Marguerite Patten

Woolton pie was named after the Minister of Food in WWII, Lord Woolton.  It is designed to work with severe rationing, with vast amounts of vegetables, no meat, and very little wheat flour.
















Woolton Pie
Cooking time: about 1 hour    Quantity: 4 helpings

Dice and cook about 1 lb of each of the following in salted water: potatoes (you could use parsnips if topping the pie with mashed potatoes), cauliflower, swedes, carrots--you could add turnips too.  [I used turnip instead of swede/rutabaga.]  Strain but keep 3/4 pint of the vegetable water.

I halved the recipe.  This is 1/2 lb. of each.

















Arrange the vegetables in a large pie dish or casserole.  Add a little vegetable extract and about 1 oz rolled oats or oatmeal to the vegetable liquid.  Cook until thickened and pour over the vegetables; add 3-4 chopped spring onions [I used a lot of chives.]

Top with Potato Pastry or with mashed potatoes and a very little grated cheese [I used two adult people's cheese ration for the week- 4 oz. total.  I'm American, so it should be allowed under cultural exceptions] and heat in the centre of a moderately hot oven [375 F.] until golden brown. [half an hour-ish.  Depends on how thick the pastry is.]  Serve with brown gravy.

This is at its best with tender young vegetables. [Nope.  Turnips and parsnips are so unpopular, the only ones around look pretty beat-up. Oh well.  There's a war on.]


















Potato Pastry
This is a pastry that should be used a great deal as it helps to lighten the flour and makes our rations of fat go much further.
Sift 6 oz. self raising flour with a pinch of salt.  Rub in 2-3 oz cooking fat, add 2 oz grated raw potato.  Mix well and bind with water.  Roll out on a floured board and use as ordinary shortcrust pastry.


Verdict: 














Well that isn't the wartime spirit I was looking for.  Husband and I thought it was actually pretty darn good.  Especially with the aid of a large amount of vegetable flavored "Better Than Bouillon" to serve as the vegetable extract.  Mmmm.  Husband even said he'd like to see it again!  It could use some more color, though.  Parsnips, rutabagas, potatoes, cauliflower and turnips do not have very striking contrast.

2-year-old, who had just been woken up from a sorely needed nap prematurely, was so offended that she wouldn't touch it and instead tried to knock over the precious ration of orange juice to which she, as a child, is entitled. Upon failing, she flowed off her chair and onto the floor like syrup and assumed the position shown in picture 2, to prevent me holding a carrot near her face on a fork.  An hour later, she ate half her serving and liked it.

A Fine Venison Pie and Rhubarb Cups

The Lady's Receipt-book, Eliza Leslie, 1847

















A FINE VENISON PIE.
--Cut steaks from a loin, or haunch of venison, which should be as freshly killed as you can get it.  The strange prejudice in favour of hard, black-looking venison, that has been kept till the juices are all dried up, is fast subsiding; the preference is now given to that which has been newly killed, whenever it can be obtained.  Those who have eaten venison fresh from the woods, will never again be able to relish it in the state in which it is brought to the Atlantic cities.

















Having removed the bones [I didn't.  I cut around them after the steaks were cooked.], and seasoned it with a little salt and pepper; put the venison into a pot [A slow cooker, in this case], with barely as much water as will cover it, and let it stew till perfectly tender, skimming it occasionally.  Then take it out, and set it to cool, saving the gravy in a bowl.  Make a light paste, in the proportion of three quarters of a pound of fresh butter to a pound and a half of flour.  Divide the paste into two portions, and roll it out rather thick.  Butter a deep dish, and line it with one of the sheets of paste.  Then put in the venison.  Season the gravy with a glass of very good wine, either red or white, a few blades of mace, and a powdered nutmeg [I did not use an entire nutmeg, because I am not an insane person].  Stir into it the crumbled yolks of some hard-boiled eggs. [I used six] Pour the gravy over the meat, and put on the other sheet of paste as the lid of the pie.  Notch it handsomely round the edges, and bake it well. If a steady heat is kept up, it will be done in an hour.  Send it to table hot.

















Instead of wine, you may put into the gravy a glass of currant-jelly. [I did.]

Any sort of game may be made into a pie, in the above manner.

















RHUBARB CUPS.
--Take twenty stalks of green rhubarb; cut them, and boil them in a quart of water.  When it comes to a hard boil, take it from the fire; strain off the water, drain the rhubarb as dry as possible, and then mash it, and make it very sweet with brown sugar.  Have ready half a pint of rice, that has been boiled in a quart of water, till soft and dry. [No.  Victorian people were very bad at cooking rice.] Mix the rhubarb and the rice well together; beating them hard.  Then mould it in cups slightly buttered, and set them on ice, or in a very cold place.  Just before dinner, turn them out on a large dish.  Serve up with them, in a bowl, cream and sugar, into which a nutmeg has been grated; [again, not an entire nutmeg.] or else a sauce made of equal portions of fresh butter and powdered white sugar, beaten together until very light, and flavoured with powdered cinnamon, or nutmeg, and oil of lemon or lemon-juice.

Verdict:

A Fine Venison Pie:  Fabulous.  I over did it on the currant jelly, adding half a jar.  Two or three tablespoons would have done better.  The mace and nutmeg were delicious.  People who say that people in the past only put nutmeg, cinnamon, fruit, sugar, etc. on meats because they wanted to show off because it is awful are terribly misinformed, because it was super great. I was inspired to up my game (ha) by Food History Jottings, which is jaw-droppingly incredible and that you should read right now.  After finishing here.

Rhubarb Cups:  I chose this recipe because I have been canning rhubarb juice!  The byproduct of this was a gallon-size bag of sweetened, drained rhubarb pulp (plus the lemon and orange peels it was cooked with). Perfect!  Rhubarb doesn't seem to be very popular, which is a shame.  If it does appear, it is usually adulterated with strawberries.  Not that there's anything wrong with that, just... let rhubarb be rhubarb sometimes.

Notice that the recipe calls for green rhubarb stalks.  I'm not actually sure why.  Color is not an indicator of how ripe the rhubarb is.  Some varieties are completely red, some are completely green, and most exist on a spectrum between the two, with shades of both on the same plant.  They taste identical, one is just prettier.

I thought it was delicious.  Although, to be honest, I'd probably eat a wooden plank if it came with cream poured over it.  The orange peel mashed up with the rhubarb made it above average, so although it is not in the original recipe, I recommend if you are going to try this.

Saturday, June 7, 2014

Moorish cubbub, barley water, and carrot pudding

The Cook Not Mad, or Rational Cookery; Being A Collection of Original and Selected Receipts, Embracing Not Only the Art of Curing Various Kinds of Meats and Vegetables for Future Use, but of Cooking in its General Acceptation, to the Taste, Habits, and Degrees of Luxury, Prevalent with the American Publick, in Town and Country. To Which are Added, Directions for Preparing Comforts for the SICKROOM; Together with Sundry Miscellaneous Kinds of Information, of Importance to Housekeepers in General, Nearly All Tested by Experience. 
By Anonymous. 
Watertown, NY: Knowlton & Rice, 1831.

This is apparently one of the very first American cookbooks.  A year after its publication, it became Canada's very first cookbook*, but with "Canadian" instead of "American" in the title.  No other changes.  And a lot of it is plagiarized from other cookbooks.  Anonymous apparently did not meet the industrious American ideal.  

*Edit: this is apparently quite wrong.  The first Canadian cookbook is La Cuisinere Bourgeoisie by Menon.  Thanks to Anje of Kitchen Historic and Early Canadian Cookbooks, who should know.  




A Moorish method of cooking beef, as described by Captain Riley, the ship-wrecked mariner.  
"Mr. Willshire's cook had by this time prepared a repast, which consisted of beef cut into square pieces, just large enough for a mouthful before it was cooked; these were then rolled in onions, cut up fine, and mixed with salt and pepper; they were in the next place put on iron skewers and laid horizontally across a pot of burning charcoal, and turned over occasionally, until perfectly roasted:" [Query: --Does he mean that the skewers be run through the pieces of meat? we think he must, as it would be difficult to make such small pieces lie on the skewers, without falling through into the fire; especially when the meat came to be turned.]  "This dish," continues Captain Riley, "is called cubbub, and in my opinion far surpasses in flavour the so much admired beef steak; as it is eaten hot from the skewers, and is indeed an excellent mode of cooking beef."
Remark.--How would it do to cut up flakes here and there on our common steak pieces, and put under pieces of raw onion, pepper and salt, and fasten the flap down by means of little wooden pins or pegs, to be pulled out after cooking?


Barley Water
Upon one ounce of pearl barley, after it has been well washed in cold water, pour half a pint of boiling water, and then boil it a few minutes; the water must then be strained off and thrown away; afterwards a quart of boiling water must be poured over the barley, and which should then be boiled down to one pint and a quarter, and strained off.  The barley water thus made is clear and mucilaginous; and when mixed with an equal quantity of good milk and a small portion of sugar, is an excellent substitute for a mother's milk, when infants are, unfortunately, to be brought up by hand.  Without milk, it is one of the best beverages for all acute diseases, and may have lemon juice, raspberry vinegar, apple tea, infusion of tamarinds, or any other acidulous substance that is agreeable to the palate of the patient, mixed with it.  


Carrot Pudding
A coffee cup full of boiled and strained carrots, five eggs, sugar and butter of each two ounces, cinnamon and rose water to your taste, bake in a deep dish without paste, one hour.  


Verdict:

Moorish cubbubs: Isn't the recipe wonderful?  I love how the author is utterly baffled by the idea of kebabs (which is, of course, what this is).  I feel a kinship, I think.  An author shamelessly plagiarizing the recipes of others, while at the same time being totally flummoxed at times at what the heck is going on and what the recipe wants you to do because whoever wrote it took for granted you'd know how it should work. If anyone can figure out what they're trying to do with the wooden pins, let me know.  Anyway, it wasn't very flavorful.  Just... beef chunks.  Eh.  But that isn't the point.  

Barley water:  This is of particular interest to me, because I am Mormon.  In 1833, approximately contemporaneous with this cookbook, the Word of Wisdom was introduced.  The Word of Wisdom is a list of health suggestions, later amended to commandments.  Among them, "strong drink" was prohibited.  

That inasmuch as any man drinketh wine or strong drink among you, behold it is not good, neither meet in the sight of your Father, only in assembling yourselves together to offer up your sacraments before him.

This section, a while later, has been the source of a lot of argument and speculation:

 16 All grain is good for the food of man; as also the fruit of the vine; that which yieldeth fruit, whether in the ground or above the ground—
 17 Nevertheless, wheat for man, and corn for the ox, and oats for the horse, and rye for the fowls and for swine, and for all beasts of the field, and barley for all useful animals, and for mild drinks, as also other grain.
Some people have made the argument that what that last bit means is beer, because that is the only drink they know of that they feel fits the description.  "Mild", because beer is less alcoholic than many other forms of alcohol.  

Because of barley water's great popularity in so many cookbooks before and after this time period, especially listed as a drink for invalids, I'd put my money on that.  If I were allowed to gamble.  

It didn't taste like very much of anything.  Possibly a little dusty.  

Carrot Pudding: This was actually really nice.  It is very much like pumpkin pie filling (as those who have had pumpkin pie made of pureed carrots will be totally unsurprised to hear), but with rosewater.  And it goes really well, too.  I added a capful, which is probably between 1/4-1/2 teaspoon.  I have designs on it for breakfast tomorrow.  I'd think about adding rosewater to a pumpkin pie on Thanksgiving, if I didn't think total outrage would result.  






Saturday, October 5, 2013

Raspberry, Strawberry, Currant or Orange Effervescing Draughts

Things a Lady Would Like to Know [1876]




This is a third attempt at an effervescing drink, for teetotalers such as myself.  The first two were Effervescing Fruit Drinks and Effervescing Jelly Drinks, both from Mrs. Beecher's Domestic Receipt Book [1850], both absolutely wretched.  How will this new challenger from the world's most moralizing cookbook fare?  

A masculine woman must be naturally an unamiable creature. -Rev. James Fordyce, D.D.

Raspberry, Strawberry, Currant or Orange Effervescing Draughts.--
Take 1 quart of the juice of either of the above fruits; filter it, and boil it into a syrup with 1 lb. of powdered loaf sugar*.  To this add 1 1/2 oz. of tartaric acid**.  When cold, put it into a bottle, and keep it well corked.  When required for use, fill a half-pint tumbler three parts full of water, and add 2 table-spoonfuls of the syrup.  Then stir in briskly a small tea-spoonful of carbonate of soda***, and a very delicious drink will be formed.  The colour may be improved by adding a very small portion of cochineal**** to the syrup at the time of boiling.

*Regular, granular sugar.  The sugar it refers to is a solid brick or cone of sugar, that has to be smashed before use.  I prefer a hammer.  Or to buy it free-flowing.

**Tartaric acid may be found at specialty brewing stores.  Or might not.  In lieu of tartaric acid, the much more commonly available citric acid can be substituted.  Citric acid is 4x less acidic than tartaric acid, so you have to increase the amount by 4x.  Citric acid can be found by asking at a pharmacy, or by keeping your eyes open during canning season.  If you get it from the pharmacy, as I did, expect to pay through the nose.  $24 for the amount that I needed for this recipe.  RIDICULOUS.  All the recipes I've used citric acid for (one) call for just a little bit, so I thought it would last a while.  Nope.  Entire bottle.  Little did I know, two aisles over in the canning section of the exact same store was twice the amount for $3.  I found that out a couple days later by accident, and felt so very angry.

***baking soda

****Cochineal are wee little bugs that live on cacti, valued for their excellent red dye.  And yes, it is still used as a food dye.  People whined about it a lot less when they were literally smashing up bugs in the kitchen to dye confections than they do now where you never see any evidence, which I find strange.  Feel free to substitute pre-prepared food coloring, if you do not wish to mash up bugs.

Verdict:
Very, very nice!  The citric acid works a lot better here than vinegar.  I didn't strain my raspberries like the recipe says, because I am lazy.  I tell myself that the seeds make it look more rustic and homemade, and I think I have a good point.  And once again, it took until I dumped the baking soda in to go, "Oh RIGHT!  Citric acid is made of ACID!" and run breakneck to the sink while it threatened to explode over my hand due to the chemical reaction.

Husband enjoyed it, Toddler threw a tantrum when she finished hers because it was gone, and I thought it was delightful.  Very refreshing, tingly in your mouth like soda but not as sweet.  I think some cream stirred in would be fabulous.  As a bonus, it's just so darn pretty.  It looks like a drink from My Little Pony.

Friday, September 13, 2013

Mock White Fish (Vegetarian Dish.)

Aaaaaand I'm back!  I'm going to go ahead and blame it on the fact that today's dish took six months to make.  Mainly in my backyard.  And why?  Because you can't buy salsify.

What is salsify?  Let us refer to the Horticultural Register and Gardener's Magazine [1836]

Left: the only attractive specimen obtained.  Right: what most of them looked like.  It isn't the salsify's fault.  My carrots are also pretty homely. 

Salsify is a native of England, and is universally esteemed there to be very wholesome and nutritious.  So much so, that there are but few families that have a garden, who are without a profusion of this delicious culinary vegetable.  The root, which resembles a parsnip in appearance, is white, long and tapering, and is the part most valued for culinary purposes.  It is boiled and eaten like a parsnip, or parboiled, cut into slices, and fried, and dished up for the table as a sauce for boiled fowls, turkeys, &c.  When sliced and fried in batter, it very much resembles in taste the oyster, whence its local name, Vegetable Oyster.  

Salsify is one of the many root vegetables that have fallen out of favor with the advent of mass produce transport, along with Jerusalem artichokes, rutabagas, and turnips.  It was very popular in the 1800's, mainly as a fish and oyster substitute.  I suspect its popularity was also due to its color.  Victorians were huge fans of any white- or cream-colored food, to the point of engineering ordinarily colorful vegetables to be pale and anemic looking.

I have wondered for a long time, however, how well this hideous vegetable actually works as a substitute for fish.  And today, my dream has come true.


Mock White Fish (Vegetarian Dish.)
Mrs. Beeton's Everyday Cookery (1861)

Ingredients. --Salsify, milk, butter, flour, lemon-juice, breadcrumbs, salt and pepper.  
Method.--Scrape the salsify, cut the roots into 1-inch lengths, cover them with lemon-juice, or white vinegar, and water, and let them remain 1 hour.  Drain well, barely cover with boiling salted water, cook gently until tender, then strain and preserve the liquor.  Take equal parts of liquor and milk; to 1 pint allow 2 oz. of butter and 1 1/2 ozs. of flour.  Heat the butter, add the flour, stir and cook for a few minutes without browning, and put in the mixed liquor and milk.  Stir until boiling, season to taste, and add a little lemon-juice.  Place the salsify in coquilles, cover with sauce, sprinkle thickly with breadcrumbs, and add 2 or 3 small pieces of butter.  Bake until the surface is nicely browned, then serve. 
Time.--To cook the salsify, from 25 to 30 minutes.  Average cost, 2d. to 3d. each.  Allow 1 to each person.  

Verdict:  Danged if when I was peeling and grating, it didn't smell vaguely of fish.  Not... not food fish, but more like that smell when you walk past the fish department at the grocery store.  Sort of like raw fish and a little like cleaning solution.  Most salsify recipes tell you to drop the pieces into water while you are working, and this is a good idea.  On exposure to air, they start turning black.  They also leak white milky sap onto your hands, which make you smell slightly like a fish counter.  

But does it taste like fish?  Yes.  It actually does.  In a mushy, squishy way, similar to cod.  The lemon juice in particular makes it taste very close.  I should mention that cod is my least favorite fish.  I ate two pieces of mine, Husband ate most of his, and 2-year-old ate the rest of mine, cramming pieces in her cheeks like a hamster, chanting "Salsa-feeeeeee!  Salsa...FEEEEEEEEE!", and ignoring her spaghetti.  I suspect she liked the mushiness and the sound of the word "salsify."

This would be a good dish to make if you had time to spend, space in your garden, and a serious and worrying grudge against a vegetarian frenemy who hated fish.  

Friday, October 26, 2012

Safeway's Fourth of July Patio Picnic Menu

Welcome to 1962!  This menu comes from the Safeway's Meal Planner cookbook, a gift from a reader.

SAFEWAY'S Fourth of July Patio Picnic Menu
Just For YOU...

Golden Barbecued Chick-a-Dee
Tropical Sweet Potatoes
Chili-ghetti
Pineapple Cole Slaw
Peaches and Cream Pie
Cool Lemon Tea
Suggested Bread Type: Grilled Roma Torpedo Rolls with Lawry's Garlic Spread wrapped in foil.  

To my sorrow, and I assume to yours, I was not able to make everything on the menu.  Forgive me.  Like myself, you must be contented with the bolded dishes.  Besides which, chicken AND a meat casserole?  What?  I thought this was 1962, not 1862.  D'oh ho ho!

For those who take offense to the fact that it is not July 4, I refer you to the title of the blog.  



Tropical Sweet Potatoes (Serves 6)
1 can, No. 3 squat, TOWN HOUSE sweet potatoes, drained
1 tablespoon lemon juice
1 tablespoon CROWN COLONY pure rum flavoring
1/4 cup brown sugar
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
2 tablespoons butter

Place each sweet potato on a double thickness of heavy duty aluminum foil.  Brush with combined lemon juice and rum flavoring.  Sprinkle generously with brown sugar and cinnamon; dot with butter.  Wrap the foil securely around the sweet potatoes, twisting ends.  Barbecue on grill 7 to 9 minutes or on briquets 4 to 5 minutes.




Let your table setting be in the spirit of the occasion by having the theme colors of red, white, and blue.  Start with a white paper tablecloth, blue napkins, and red and white insect repellent candles that may be found in your Safeway hardware section.  Spread the theme throughout your entire patio with pale blue candy dishes filled with Roxbury mint straws and balls.  



Chili-ghetti (Serves 10)
In a large skillet melt 2 tablespoons butter; brown 1 clove garlic, minced, 3/4 cup chopped onion, and 1 pound ground shoulder.  Drain off excess fat, then add 1 can, No. 303, TOWN HOUSE solid pack tomatoes with 2 15-oz. cans chili con carne with beans; simmer for 45 minutes.  Meanwhile, cook 3/4 of one 12-oz. package CHIEF brand spaghetti according to package directions; drain.  Remove skillet from heat and stir in 3 cups shredded Cheddar cheese until melted; then fold in 1/2 pint LUCERNE sour cream.  Preheat oven to 350 degrees F.  Combine chili mixture and spaghetti, mixing well; turn into a 2-quart casserole.  Top with 1/4 cup SAFEWAY grated Parmesan cheese and bake 45 minutes.

Chili-Ghetti may be prepared ahead and refrigerated until ready to bake.  It may also be frozen after baking.*



Peaches and Cream Pie
Arrange 4 cups sliced fresh peaches, one layer deep in an unbaked 9-inch pastry shell.  Mix 1/2 cup sugar, 2 tablespoons flour, 1/8 teaspoon salt, 1/4 teaspoon nutmeg, 1/2 teaspoon vanilla, and 1/2 cup sweet or sour cream, pour over peaches.  Bake 450 degrees F. for 10 minutes, reduce heat to 350 degrees F. for 40 minutes.  Bake until filling is set.  Cool and serve.


Verdict:

Tropical Sweet Potatoes: Wow, these are... rummy.  Please note, you don't sprinkle rum on, you sprinkle rum flavoring.  It is VERY STRONG.  This is also maddening to make.  You have to double wrap every tiny nubbin of sweet potato.  INDIVIDUALLY.  Grahhhhhhhh!  And what do you end up with?  Little wrapped nuggets of soggy brown moosh that make you smell like a bum in the gutter. 

Chili-Ghetti: This is the culinary equivalent of a warm, fuzzy blanket.  Eating it on a cool day is like snuggling up in front of the fire with hot chocolate and a purring tabby, while fat flakes of snow drift gently down upon the land.  I did freeze half of it, and it was even better the second time.  Yes, it is terrible for you.  But let us not speak of that.  It is your grandmother's kugel.  It is the love of a child.  It is the Moonlight Sonata. It is cookies fresh out of the oven.  It is a hammock on a perfect summmer's day.  You shall not say a word against it, for I will defend its perfection to my last breath.**

Peaches and Cream Pie: An uglier pie I have rarely seen, especially the next day.  Brrrrr.  The sugar in the sour cream sauce draws out the juice in the peaches, leaving wells and rivulets of juice cracking the surface.  Not bad in taste, but not terribly inspiring either. 



*Chili-Ghetti may cause shortness of breath, rash, fertility, hipsterism, lollygagging, aphasia, balding, tomfoolery, and shenanigans.  Time Travel Kitchen cannot be held liable.  

**Probably of heart attack. 

Wednesday, September 19, 2012

WWII: Mock Fried Egg and Wheatmealies

Eating For Victory: Healthy Home Front Cooking on War Rations [reprinted WWII instruction leaflets, 2007]

Husband has become leery of "mock" anything.  It is almost never good.  If it's "Mock Something" in recipes from the last few decades, it is usually because it contains some weird processed food that is taking the place of a real food.  For instance, crackers instead of apples in apple pie.  In quite old recipes, like Victorian and Regency, it is because a cheap food is being disguised as a fancypants rich person food.  A calf's head instead of a turtle, for instance.



The Second World War is my favorite era of mock foods, however.  This is because of the imagination and nerve it takes to disguise vast quantities of vegetables as totally preposterous and laughable things, like geese.  I admire the sort of mindset it takes to say, "No fried eggs?  The hell you say!  I will have a fried egg if I have to construct it of twine and sticks."  

As substitutions go, this one seems... a little bit genius.




Mock Fried Egg
1 egg (reconstituted from powder);
2 slices wheatmeal bread;
Salt and pepper.

Method.--Beat the egg.  Cut holes from the centre of each slice of bread with a small scone cutter.  Dip the slices quickly in water and then try on one side until golden brown.  Turn on to the the other side, pour half the egg into the hole in each slice of bread, cook till the bread is brown on the underneath side.  The bread cut from the centres can be fried and served with the slices.



Wheatmealies
Half-dozen slices stale bread, 1/4 inch thick. 
Cut into 1/4-in. squares.  Put on a baking sheet and bake in a slow oven till brown and crisp.  Store in a tin.  Serve with milk and sugar to taste.  


Verdict:

Mock Fried Egg:  It does seem genius, doesn't it?  I mean, if a person wants a dang fried egg, and all there is is powdered egg, egg-in-a-basket is a pretty neat solution!  Unfortunately, there were... other factors.

Yes... I am afraid this picture was the result of following the directions.  All the moisture in the reconstituted egg was either sucked into the bread or vaporized on the pan, leaving a thin membrane of leathery egg.  Which then stuck to the pan and had to be chipped off.  What worked much better was to put the equivalent of about three eggs in the middle.  Which kind of defeats the purpose.  It tasted fine, though.  And were I set on a fried egg and had nothing but my number 10 can of dry egg... I might consider it.  And then I'd make scrambled eggs, because this is ridiculous.

If there are any dried egg experts out there, please lend your expertise. Where did I go wrong?  Is this feasible?



Wheatmealies:  As a homemade cereal, this actually wasn't bad.  You have to eat it at lightning pace, of course, or it will turn to goo.  Like Cap'n Crunch.  Sugar and cream also help a great deal.  Husband didn't like it, but I would not complain about eating it again.  The addition of some fresh berries would be lovely.

For a beverage, I served this with some black currant juice.  It is the best way to get vitamin C if your orange juice supply is blockaded, or indeed.... if it isn't.  Black currants have four times as much vitamin C as oranges.  During WWII, the British stepped up their black currant production for this very reason.