Whenever I hear people talk about the latest food trend popping up on social media, I find myself wondering about the social aspect of cooking — one that that seems lost to the lightning pace of viral trends.
Like many women of the “Silent Generation,” my Grandma JoAnn accumulated community cookbooks over decades, an impressive collection that lives on in our home. Long before likes, follows and algorithms, communities were gathering recipes from the people they trusted most. Most were spiral bound and of typewriter print on inexpensive paper, and sold to support local causes.
Church fundraisers, hospital auxiliaries, school organizations, women’s clubs and civic groups all published one just about every year. The covers weren’t particularly glamorous and even sometimes hand drawn by the winning artist of the respective community.
As I look at them now, those relics are somehow so familiar despite many of them being more than 65 years old. I can recall my grandmother flipping through them to find a friend or acquaintances’ name while considering it like a recommendation.
Some have food stains on the pages. Others contained handwritten notes in the margins, substitutions scribbled next to ingredients and stars marking favorite recipes. When considering the collection as a whole, each is essentially a snapshot of what people were excited about eating at that particular moment in time.
Long before recipes went viral, community cookbooks were the local cooking trend setters. When you think about it, you can learn a surprising amount about a generation by looking at its recipes. The ingredients people used, the shortcuts they embraced, the dishes they served at gatherings and the foods they considered worth sharing all tell a story about how they lived.
In the 1950s and 1960s, convenience became a full-fledged movement. Gelatin salads, casseroles, frozen foods and shortcut recipes filled community cookbook pages.
Modern kitchens were supposed to make life easier, and home cooks proudly embraced products that saved time and simplified life in the kitchen — a notion we are still searching for today. I would be lying if I said I never utilized an occasional ready-to-microwave rice pouch to save time when I am trying to pull together a late dinner for cr-angry kiddos.
By the 1960s and 1970s, global and/or health-conscious cooking was finding its audience. Recipes featuring yogurt, whole grains and natural ingredients began appearing more frequently. I remember hearing stories of my parents and grandparents hosting progressive dinners from a featured region of the world.
Certainly, global flavors abound in modern cooking, and many of the same conversations happening around protein, gut health and functional foods can trace their roots back to this era’s growing interest in nutrition and wellness.
The 1980s celebrated abundance. Usher in the oversized portions of everything including rich, very sweet desserts and restaurant-inspired dishes, reflecting a culture increasingly interested in dining as an experience. The 1990s shifted again, ushering in low-fat cooking, lighter recipes and an entire generation convinced that fat-free versions of favorite foods were the future. Food trends existed then just as they do now; however, the difference wasn’t the food but about the speed.
A recipe that once spread through church suppers, neighborhood gatherings, family reunions and fundraiser cookbooks can now reach millions of people in a matter of hours.
What once took years can now happen over a weekend. The community cookbook served many of the same purposes that social media serves today. People shared recipes they loved. They exchanged ideas. They discovered new ingredients and techniques.
Most importantly, they found connection through food. A recipe wasn’t included in the annual edition because it was the newest thing anyone had ever seen. It was included because people asked for it repeatedly. It was the chocolate cake everyone requested for birthdays.
The casserole that disappeared first at the potluck. The cookie recipe people copied onto index cards and carried home. In other words, community cookbooks captured the recipes that had already stood the test of time.
Today’s social media platforms operate differently. They reward novelty, speed and visual appeal. Recipes often rise to popularity because they are surprising, photogenic or easy to replicate. Some become permanent additions to our kitchens. Others disappear as quickly as they arrive.
Perhaps that’s why I still find those old cookbooks so fascinating. They offer a different measure of success. Instead of asking what is trending today, they reveal what communities valued enough to preserve.
Despite how much technology has changed the way we access information, one thing remains remarkably consistent. We still want to know what everyone else is making for dinner. The recipe below represents one of those kinds of desserts that had a star next to it in a nostalgic cookbook passed along on my mom’s side of the family.
It’s a recipe that embraces premade cookies and just enough technique to create a rich layered dessert with very few ingredients. You’ll just need a little planning to start it the day ahead.
White Family – Mary Douglas
Ingredients:
Directions:
Sheridan Lane is director of culinary programs and operations at Lincoln Land Community College.
Lincoln Land Community College offers credit programs in Hospitality and Culinary, and non-credit cooking and food classes through LLCC Community Education.
Cooking or food questions? Email epicuriosity101@llcc.edu.
This article originally appeared on State Journal-Register: What old community cookbooks teach us about food
Reporting by Sheridan Lane, Special to the State Journal-Register / State Journal-Register
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By Sheridan Lane, Special to the State Journal-Register | USA TODAY Network
