The cook book that claimed to be the cheapest in the world sold at a purse-friendly 6d also claims; ‘There is a right way and a wrong way of doing everything. There is also a best way’. This book provides-in quick succession- a series of paragraphs detailing the basic outlines for recipes.
Words like ‘cut’ are used repetitively throughout and the structure is a basic chronology of the actions of the cook. There is no first person narrative, but an instructive tone which commands the reader to cook as prescribed. Short sentences help to break up the instruction from its cramped form on the page. There are no appetising adjectives dropped in or luscious descriptions provided, but a stark terminology which almost creates a businesslike approach to the kitchen.
So what does hotpot taste like when compared to the descriptive structure? Well inedible was most certainly the most hooted word in the room, after both Jess and I endured the stench and steeled ourselves for the first bite- resulting in a cacophony of YUUUUK and two red faces. The meat was unbearable and the potatoes had soaked up so much of their juice that they too became dog fodder...
Perhaps there was a reason for the lack of appetising, saliva inducing descriptions. It would appear that there was a trend during the First World War to create recipes with un-exact or hazy measurements. Although I acknowledge that in the last posting I lay the blame at the foot of the editor, in retrospect, there may be another reason for such vague almost adjective measuring sizes. By using an adjective instead of the measurement such as ‘mealy’, it becomes the cook’s discretion as to the appropriate potato to pick. Now if... to hazard a guess... social circumstances dictate that there is no such thing as a mealy potato (and we allow this terminology to appropriate a large potato) coming anywhere near the vicinity of the everyday woman’s kitchen, then perhaps there is kindness in a conspiracy to allow such a woman to call undersized potato’s mealy.
Words like ‘cut’ are used repetitively throughout and the structure is a basic chronology of the actions of the cook. There is no first person narrative, but an instructive tone which commands the reader to cook as prescribed. Short sentences help to break up the instruction from its cramped form on the page. There are no appetising adjectives dropped in or luscious descriptions provided, but a stark terminology which almost creates a businesslike approach to the kitchen.
So what does hotpot taste like when compared to the descriptive structure? Well inedible was most certainly the most hooted word in the room, after both Jess and I endured the stench and steeled ourselves for the first bite- resulting in a cacophony of YUUUUK and two red faces. The meat was unbearable and the potatoes had soaked up so much of their juice that they too became dog fodder...
Perhaps there was a reason for the lack of appetising, saliva inducing descriptions. It would appear that there was a trend during the First World War to create recipes with un-exact or hazy measurements. Although I acknowledge that in the last posting I lay the blame at the foot of the editor, in retrospect, there may be another reason for such vague almost adjective measuring sizes. By using an adjective instead of the measurement such as ‘mealy’, it becomes the cook’s discretion as to the appropriate potato to pick. Now if... to hazard a guess... social circumstances dictate that there is no such thing as a mealy potato (and we allow this terminology to appropriate a large potato) coming anywhere near the vicinity of the everyday woman’s kitchen, then perhaps there is kindness in a conspiracy to allow such a woman to call undersized potato’s mealy.
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