I (Beef) Heart Archives

Been looking at some of the stats for the blog...

Typically, we get an average of 50 page views a day (more if I'm posting regularly, less if I'm taking a break). During months with fresh content we average around 2,000 page views per month.

For the past several months the most-visited archived post is the one about cleaning out the chicken coop. I believe that has to do with a nice Reddit link posted by Anisa at The Lazy Homesteader. There is quite a number of visitors to the post describing when we slaughtered a chicken for the first time, too.

For a good portion of last year a lot of traffic ended up on the post where we caved in to air-conditioning during our rationing summer. Apparently, folks like pictures of the Wicked Witch of the West.

Much traffic comes to the site from searches such as "rationing in WWII" and "1940's women." No surprises there. What I have found very interesting, though, is that searches for "mock apple pie recipe" and "beef heart recipe" regularly appear in the top ten searches that lead people to the site.

Strange, no?


--Rational Mama

Rational Top Ten

Can you believe it? Tomorrow is the last day of rationing! Since tomorrow will be filled with family gatherings and festivities we thought we'd highlight what we think are the top ten highlights from the rationing year (in no particular order).

Here goes!

1. Realizing, midway through the first month, that we had been allowing ourselves too many blue/green points. Like, 75% too many.

2. The recipes! Without the rationing project as an excuse there is no way we would have even dreamed of making jellied ham loaf or beef heart kabobs. The historic recipes have encompassed the good (nutburgers, victory pancakes), the bad (six layer dinner, full o'bologney, sausage loaf), and the ugly (hot cabbage slaw and...)

3. Liver. Really, even though it's an historic recipe and could be listed above it deserves a solitary mention. Nothing, nothing, we ate during the rationing year made the same impression as liver. If you've never read this post you really should.

Oh, thank goodness we didn't have to try this!

4. After a good four or five years of discussion we finally installed an attic (or whole house) fan. This was critical because of our decision to...

5. Sweat it out during the summer by not turning on the air conditioner in the house. It turned out to be one of the hottest summers in the past decade and even with the attic fan and other remedies (cool baths, oscillating fans, popsicles, etc.) we were miserable. Sticking to your sheets and running out of deodorant miserable. Eventually, we caved and turned on the air conditioner. In the end, this was probably the best decision because...

6. We learned that running the attic fan, ceiling fans and oscillating fans along with the dehumidifier used just as much energy as if we had run the air conditioner in the first place. So I guess you could say that sweating it out over a month of summer heat was a miserable but beneficial learning experience.

7. Local fruit. Man oh man, you just can't beat the fresh blackberries, apples, pears, strawberries and mulberries we munched on this summer. And we even have some extra blackberries in the freezer for the long winter months!

8. When a bottle of ketchup costs nearly half of a week's worth of rationing points, nothing says "Suck it, rationing system!" quite like making your own ketchup. Let's face it - ketchup is not a necessity, it's a luxury. Having the ability to make your own (and control the ingredients) is definitely a guilty pleasure. I don't know if we'll ever buy commercially-prepared ketchup again.

9. Having regular commentators from the all across the United States, the U.K. (especially you, Mr. Graham), Eastern Europe, Canada and visits (per traffic reports) from every continent except Antarctica made Rational Living a truly international community. Kinda seems fitting since the real-life scenarios the project was based on included an international community as well.

10. Even with all the planning required by the rationing project and the huge learning curve experienced in the first few months, no other micro-project during the rationing year was harder that the week we followed U.K. rations. The plan was actually to go two weeks on U.K. rations but the meager servings and food limitations (along with nearly constant hunger complaints from the girls) made us cave at the end of the first week. That week was actually a big turning point for the project, as it really hit home that our voluntary, meager rations (and hunger) were choices for us, whereas plenty on this earth have less than that due to circumstances beyond their control.

And, of course...reader feedback on the blog always made our day. This project wouldn't have been nearly as interesting if we didn't have the helpful and insightful comments from YOU. Thanks for sticking with us through the entire project. This blog will continue on, but we're not quite sure as to the content and form. Stay tuned.

So, are there any other scenarios that we missed that you would have included in a top ten?

--With Love, from the Rational Living family

Historic Recipe: Nutburgers

What's a rationing momma gonna make for dinner when a writer from the local parenting magazine is coming over to interview the family about the rationing project?

This momma made nutburgers.

In hindsight, I should have made an historic recipe with which I was already familiar; something tried and true like macaroni and cheese or even heart kabobs. But the nutburger recipe (from the most awesome Betty Crocker rationing cookbook) had been floating around on my to-do list for a while. Hence, I latched on to the excuse of the interview to get out of a menu rut and finally make them.

It's really quiet simple: combine a bunch of stuff, let it chill for two hours and then drop spoonfuls of it into a skillet with hot grease.

Stuff
1 1/2 cups ground pecans
1 cup soft bread crumbs
1 egg (beaten)
1 tsp diced onion
2 TB diced parsley (or 2 tsp dried parsley)
1 1/2 tsp salt
1 cup milk

I used the food processor to grind the pecans (finely ground nuts greatly improve the texture) and to make homemade bread crumbs. Oh, and be careful to only cook the burgers 4-5 minutes on each side as nuts burn easily.

On a side note, let me say that it's a little nerve-racking to cook with someone photographing you and your kitchen! But the photographer was so sweet that all remained calm and we quickly passed the time with chit chat.

When dinner was ready the photographer left and the four of us plus the writer sat down to the table to see how the recipe fared. Served with green beans and (locally grown) baked squash, the entire arrangement made a pretty plate.

And yup! That's a white sauce on top of the nutburger (per Betty's recommendation).

I can't remember who dove in for the first bite...I think it was Eowyn. She gave a big thumbs up and then the rest of us gave it a try. All of us (sans Sissy, big surprise) made nummy noises as we worked on our nutburgers. Granted, they wouldn't replace a traditional cheeseburger, but the flavor and texture were surprisingly meaty. In fact, all the adults (even the writer) had second helpings - that's how good they were!

They were good enough, dear reader, that as I'm writing this up I'm thinking they need to be on next week's menu. Yum!

--Rational Mama

T-Minus 26 Days and Counting

Can you believe it? We have less than a month left of rationing! The end is near!

So, how's it going?

This is traditionally a very busy time of year for us; between Thanksgiving and the middle of January we have four family birthdays, three holidays and two birthdays of very dear friends. Plus, this year we're dealing with trying to decide what life will look like after rationing and all of the house stuff. Luckily, by now we're whizzes when it comes to rationing and it doesn't take much brain power to come up with a ration-friendly menu and point total.

In fact, we've gotten so accustomed to rationing that lately we're using only a fraction of our points. During previous months I tried to use up all our ration points as best I could without crossing that fine line between maintaining a surplus and hoarding. After all, ration points seldom went unused during the 1940s. But at some point that tactic seemed to contradict the idea behind rationing - focusing instead on wants rather than needs. And so I've been trying to "shop" the freezer and cabinets, so to speak, and use what we already have on hand.

As a result we will be ending the month of November with a surplus of 95 red and 45 blue/green points (!).

We are starting to make some headway and consensus on what life will be like after rationing. Some small changes, some big changes, some things dropping to the wayside and some things status quo. Over the next month I'll be revisiting some of the original rationing project posts to bring you up to date.

In the meantime, thanks for sticking with us!

--Rational Mama

Based on a True Recipe

Hmm...what to say about the Six Layer Dinner?

Well, it's from the most-awesome Betty Crocker rationing cookbook.

But...I made it for dinner back on September 17th and I'm still trying to find the words to make it sound interesting and exciting.

It's been harder than I thought. It's just layers of potatoes, ground beef, peppers, onions and tomatoes (I know - no white sauce!). I did add some cheddar cheese on the top and some extra seasonings (garlic powder, oregano) to make it palatable. Otherwise, there wasn't much hope for it.

Maybe, rather than focus on the actual historic recipe I should instead go all Hollywood on it and add some sizzle. You know, "based on a true recipe." Yeah, that sounds good.

Six Layers of Fury Dinner: You Will Be Hungry

Mind-Bending Ingredients:

2 cups sliced angry and raw potatoes
2 cups chopped celery with something to prove
2 cups ground beef so fresh it's still moo-ing
1 cup onion, sliced by Jackie Chan fighting off three ninjas
1 cup finely cut green peppers picked by a migrant worker with dreams of becoming a internationally-known songstress
2 cups cooked tomatoes, dripping with lycopene
2 tsp salt gathered by slave laborers in SE Asia while Angelina Jolie protests nearby
1/4 tsp pepper so spicy it's kept under lock and key - until Jason Bourne is on the scene


Directions - Destroy After Reading:

1. Layer ingredients in a shallow 9 x 12 baking dish, careful not to trigger the sensitive detonation device buried within.
2. Bake for 2 hours at 350 degrees, or for only 3 minutes when the sun goes supernova after North Korean spies hijack a nuclear missile.

What do you think? Shall I call Spielberg?

--Rational Mama

Historic Recipe: Jellied Ham Loaf

This is yet another recipe from Betty Crocker's rationing recipe booklet. Now, there's been more than one recent work of web-based journalism covering some of the horrific concoctions we Americans have managed to create with humble Jell-O. Since most of these stories end with me throwing up in my mouth a little, I was a dubious about trying a meated gelatin recipe. I don't even like most of the fruit-based Jell-O recipes. But, in fairness to the rationing year and to those generations who grew up during WWII (and its shadow) I decided, despite my misgivings, that it was a must.

After all, serving a Jell-o dish during the summer was a sign of wealth in the late 1930's/early 1940's. Since Jell-O (and any gelatin, for that matter) requires a cool environment to set, serving a Jell-O-based dish in the summer heat was a subtle yet unmistakable way of saying,"Take, that, hussy - my man can afford to buy me a refrigerator," at the neighborhood picnics.

Despite this status I did have one very strong warning from friend/colleague Ms. Grasslands when she heard the next historic recipe was to be a jellied ham loaf. "Jellied ham loaf," Ms. Grasslands wrote, "Was literally the only dish I could not eat as a child. It made me choke. I could eat everything else you've blogged about, including liver and onions, heart, tongue, but not ham loaf. I'm retching even as I type." Egads. This definitely made me second guess my choice, especially considering how our last historic loaf recipe turned out. But, I made a firm decision to be optimistic. After all, this was a rationing recipe that did not require a white sauce (gasp!) and, as TMOTH pointed out, we'd basically just be making our own SPAM. Right?

Before we get too far into the details of the recipe, I want to point out that the first ingredient listed is ham shanks. This is one of those mythical meats that I've heard of but never purchased and really have no idea as to it's original placement on the pig. The first result from my Google search entitled, "What is a ham shank?" informed me that it is, apparently, a pithy name for an act of masturbation. Umm...luckily the second result informed me that a ham shank is from the lower portion of the pig's leg. According to this source, ham shanks have less fat and are not as meaty as the traditional butt end ham.

Rationing-wise they're also considerably cheaper on the point scale than traditional ham. On our handy-dandy chart ham shanks are five points a pound, whereas traditional ham is a whopping 12 points per pound. I'm sure this fact alone made creative ham shank recipes popular during WWII rationing.

Here's a quick run-down of the recipe:

1. Simmer 2 1/2 pounds ham shanks in a pot of water for two hours.
2. Pull ham meat from the bone and grind enough meat to make 2 cups.
3. Soften 1 TB gelatin in 1/4 cup cold water.
4. Dissolve 2 beef bouillon cubes in 2 cups hot ham stock.
5. Combine gelatin mixture, bouillon mixture and ham together with 2 tsp horseradish, 2 tsp prepared mustard and 1 1/2 cups corn or bran flakes.
6. Chill until firm in oiled bread loaf pan.
7. Unmold and slice.

Let me tell you that there is nothing pretty about this recipe. Ground ham shank looks like reject dog food and once you combine it with the bran flakes and warmed broth/gelatin mixture it looks more like a science experiment gone horribly wrong rather than something edible (at least, something edible to an organism that lives outside of a petri dish). Rather than pat it into a loaf pan I used a roundish bowl instead. I felt like the cubic confines of the loaf pan could not contain the organic awesomeness of the ham loaf. That, and I thought it would look prettier on a plate if it was round.

Oh, and I was very much thankful that the girls were not in the kitchen while I made this up in the morning. I knew that if they saw the taupe, viscous mixture in its un-gelled state then it would be over before it all began.

After a very hot day (automobile thermostat declared the outside temperature at 112 degrees at one point) which included swimming, piano practice, laundry and such dinner was a snap since all I had to do was cook the fresh corn on the cob and decoratively arrange the jellied ham loaf on plate. Of course, I still had to get the loaf out of the mold.

Now, when the directions said to place the concoction in a oiled pan, I took the "oiled" part seriously, slathering what seems like way too much canola oil along the inside of a metal mixing bowl. I assumed that this ensured a nice, quick slip of the molded meat onto the plate come dinner time.

I was wrong.

My first attempt at flipping the loaf bowl contents onto a plate resulted in...nothing. So I kept the bowl turned over on the plate and hammered the outside of the bowl with the blunt end of a wooden spoon. Still, no slippage.

I took a butter knife and ran it around the outside edges of the loaf, sure that it would release the mold just as the same technique releases a cake from its pan. No go. Not even when I banged it some more with the wooden spoon.

Did Newton every write a law about the physical inertness of jellied meats?

Confounded, my next act was to use said butter knife to slide around the side of the loaf again and pry the bottom off of the bowl's surface. A quick flip over onto a plate and...nothing. A few more thumps of the wooden spoon and soon I heard the satisfying slurping noise of the loaf disengaging from the bowl and landing firmly on the plate.

Thank goodness I didn't use a real fancy mold or else I would never have been able to get the loaf out in one piece.

And yes, friends, it was very reminiscent of the sound molded moist cat food makes as it slurps out of its tin can and into kitty's dish. And you know what, it looked a lot like it, too.

When I sat the jellied ham loaf on the table for dinner the girls gave it a quizzical look and proceeded to poke it, as they had previously done with the SPAM. After asking them to stop poking the meat I used a knife to carve slices off the loaf. "Carving" might be a a generous term to describe the sectioning of the loaf, since it didn't slice very cleanly. I placed portions on each of the girls plates (along with a squirt of the obligatory ketchup) and waited for them to take a taste.

Since it was not a bean or vegetable-based dish Sissy was the first to dive in. "It tastes a lot like SPAM," she replied, and soon Eowyn was taking a bite of her slice. Eowyn agreed with the SPAM comparison. And then they kept on eating.

TMOTH and I both though the loaf was palatable, but suspected it would be better pan-fried (if the gelatin would hold up to the heat).

At one point one of the girls said, "It would be better in a sandwich, with ketchup and mayonnaise." Actually, that must have been Sissy because she thinks anything can be made better with mayonnaise. We all agreed with her statement so off she went to get bread from the kitchen. And she then proceeded to eat another slice of the jellied ham loaf while Eowyn finished all of her original slice and had a few bites of another.

So, I guess this was, surprisingly, a success. Go figure.

As for leftovers - oh, there are leftovers! The recipe says it will feed 8 to 10 people and I wish I would have read that before I made the recipe. I took a few slices in my lunch the next day and under the fluorescent glow of the break room the loaf definitely look less edible - mottled grays and pinks with an occasional ham string hanging out. I quickly ate my slices before anyone else came in to the room so that I didn't have to explain why I was eating cat food.

The next day I asked the girls what they have for lunch (they were home with TMOTH), and they said they had ham loaf sandwiches. "Were they good?" I asked. "Yes." was the unanimous reply.

Will we make jellied meat loaf again? Well, I don't plan to - at least, not immediately. I'm happy enough to say we made it and ate. Of course, we never know what the Randomizer will throw at us...there may be some week where all the red points we can afford for meat will make ham shanks (the meat, not the act) look like a good deal. In that case, jellied ham loaf it is.

At least it's not jellied pigs feet.

--Rational Mama

P.S. This seems to be the Rational Living post with the most potential for sexual euphemisms, considering the mentions of ham shanks, butt ends, meat grinding, and meat poking. Don't worry, we won't have our heads in the gutter for too long.

Stop the Presses!

Stop the presses!

We just made Victory Pancakes for the second time and Sissy ate an entire pancake!

Do you realize that 80% of that pancake was vegetables?

I'm speechless.

--Rational Mama

Historic Recipe: Full O' Bologney

This is the second recipe we've tried from the awesome Betty Crocker rationing cookbook. It's a meat and potatoes meal, literally. Whereas tradition (at least in this country) is to serve scalloped potatoes with ham, this recipe highlights the use of bologna instead. At eight red ration points per pound bologna was a more thrifty choice than ham, which on our handy dandy chart comes in at 12 red points a pound.

Oh, and apparently it's Irish, according to "O'" and misspelled Italian locale in the title. This makes it international and exotic.

Here's a recap of the recipe...

1. In an 8" x 8" buttered casserole dish, alternately layer 2 cups thinly sliced potatoes and 1 1/2 cups cubed or sliced bologna with a flour mixture (6 TB flour, 1/4 tsp salt, 1/4 tsp pepper).

2. Dot with 3 TB bacon fat (according to the recipe) OR 2 TB butter (what we did).

3. Pour 2 cups milk over contents of casserole dish.

4. Bake uncovered at 350 degrees for 1 hour.

Yes, this recipe serves to further reinforce my opinion that most rationing recipes can be reduced to "Random Ingredient in White Sauce."

How did it taste? Well, it tasted like a basic scalloped dish but, I have to admit, it wasn't nearly as satisfying with the bologna as it would have been with the ham. Eowyn, in true form, asked for extra helpings of the potatoes but didn't want to eat more than the obligatory bite of the bologna. Sissy ate the bologna but didn't want to eat more than the obligatory bite of potato. I tell you, it's like Jack Sprat and his wife with those two.

An attempt to get Sissy to admit the dinner wasn't too bad didn't go quite as intended. When asked if the dinner was a thumbs up or down she replied with an even shake of the fist.

TMOTH asked her where, on a scale of 1 to 10, the meal placed.

"On a scale from one to ten," she clarified, "It's a zero."

"Really?" TMOTH questioned. "This is really a zero? I thought zero would be like eating cold dog poop. This is like eating cold dog poop?"

There were chuckles, but Sissy never did fully answer the question.

Maybe we should have her try beans in a white sauce...I wonder how that would rate?

--Rational Mama

Historic Recipe: Victory Pancakes!

This recipe is the first recipe that caught my eye in the new (1943) Betty Crocker cookbook. Well, positively caught my eye - there were a few that caught my eye for less-than-appreciative reasons, such as "Jellied Ham Loaf." It's got vegetables and references pancakes and is patriotic - how much more awesome can you get?

A quick glance at the ingredients made it clear that it's basically shredded vegetables (potatoes, carrots, onion, spinach, lettuce) in a modest batter. I'm sure that the vegetables added could be adapted to what is on hand, but for the first go-around I followed the recipe exactly, except I had to add milk for moisture (apparently I had drained too much "juice" out of the shredded vegetables).

Mmm...veggie pancakes cooking on the griddle.

Here's how they looked served with a cheese sauce (the recipe suggested topping the pancakes with cheese sauce and to refuse an opportunity to top something with a cheese sauce is most definitely unpatriotic).

When I first read the recipe I thought these would be more like traditional pancakes, flecked with shredded vegetables. In reality, they are more like croquettes - lots of vegetables held together just enough with a thick batter.

TMOTH and I loved, loved, loved these. Eowyn ate a decent helping and Sissy...well...if you've been reading this blog for a while you can imagine what she thought of the Victory Pancakes.

Regardless, we'll be pulling these into the dinner rotation regularly. It will be an easy, quick dinner that will adapt to whatever excess produce is on hand.

Yum!

--Rational Mama

Historic Recipe (And a Life Lesson): Peanut Butter and Chocolate Cupcakes with Peanut Butter Frosting

Egads.

Have you ever had a recipe that was more than just a recipe? Maybe a recipe with a strong nostalgic correlation, or a recipe that was a defining moment for your taste palate?

When I set out to make chocolate and peanut butter cupcakes with peanut butter frosting (both recipes from Grandma's Wartime Baking Book: World War II and the Way We Baked) I started out with the idea that it would be a nice, simple thing to do (and eat) on a day that the girls and I were home while TMOTH was at work.

I mean, what could be easier than cupcakes and frosting?

The recipe for the cupcakes was pretty basic, except that some of the fat came from the (not rationed) peanut butter. The recipe as written was for 12 cupcakes, so I greased up my dozen cup pan and equally poured the batter into each cup.

When they came out of the oven they looked like this:

This was not good. I had not greased the top of the cupcake pan, so I was now confronted with cupcakes which where hermetically sealed by a dome stuck to the pan surface. I had successfully baked cupcakes with built-in safety seals.

After sufficient cooling I used a butter knife to carefully pry the top edges of the cupcakes off the tray and then slid the knife along the outside wall of each cupcake. I then quickly flipped the pan over so the cupcakes could slide out.

It didn't go so well.

Did you know it's possible for a cupcake to be simultaneously moist AND crumbly?

Okay, what to do with this mess? Give up? Start over?

In true WWII homefront style I decided to be flexible and adapt my plan to what was on hand. I decided to press half of the "cupcakes" (I have to use parentheses because at this point I didn't think it was still accurate to refer to them as legitimate cupcakes) into a bowl. My idea was to then spread half of the frosting on this bottom layer, press down the remaining "cupcake" bits on top of this and then spread the top with the remaining frosting.

Now, I'll admit that when I think of frosting I think of something somewhat fluffy and containing only enough adhesive properties to stick to its destined cake. Oh, and most likely loaded with fat. I'm not a big German chocolate cake fan, so the fact that frosting can be a sticky, glue-like mess sometimes escapes my mind. When the frosting consists of sweetened condensed milk and peanut butter heated in a double boiler until it thickens, the frosting is especially sticky. Like, Shelob's web sticky.

So, I didn't so much spread the frosting on the bottom layer but instead poured and coaxed the frosting. I then topped it with the remaining "cupcake" bits and poured the remaining frosting on top.

In the end, it looked like this:

The cake was tasty and sticky but, in my opinion, nothing spectacular. I supposed if you were a 1940s civilian used to lots of sweets then cake of any kind would be something to be quite happy about. As it is, we're not a big sweets house so we usually have plenty of sugar on hand when the mood strikes. No need to beg your neighbor for a sugar ration stamp here.

But what did strike me about this cake was the lesson it reminded me of: that no matter how well you plan and follow directions, sometimes in life you end up with different results than you expected.

Fifteen years ago I was an undergraduate student in anthropology. I had plans to finish my PhD, get a professorship and raise a family while I continued my research.

What a nice, pretty cupcake that would be.

I didn't know that I would hate graduate school (except for the teaching part) and quite early, not have a lot of options for anthropological employment, and start a family sooner than anticipated. I didn't know of all the heartaches we would experience, including TMOTH's cancer.

This life has been one messy cupcake, indeed.

But you know what? Life can be messy and still be good, as long as you're willing to be flexible. I now work in public outreach and children's educational programming and I absolutely love it. Life might require you to think outside of the box at times, or occasionally compromise. But it will usually be worth it and sometimes might be even tastier than you expected.

And as long as you're willing to eat sticky cake instead of cupcakes.

--Rational Mama

Historic Recipe: Spring Casserole

Today's recipe comes from the May 29, 1943 Topeka Daily Capital. It's a simple recipe with on-hand ingredients so I couldn't resist. Here's what you need:

*1 1/2 cups dried macaroni

*1 1/2 cups milk
*1/4 tsp paprika
*1 tsp salt

*1/4 tsp celery seed or celery salt

*1/3 cup cream

*2 cups milk

*1 cup fresh peas, slightly cooked (we used frozen since fresh peas have been long gone)

*3 TB minced fresh parsley

*2 TB minced onion (I used green onion)

*3 TB green pepper, diced

*3 boiled eggs, sliced

*3 TB cream cheese, softened

1. Cook macaroni until al dente (the original newspaper recipe said to cook it for 20 minutes - blah!).

2. Combine flour, paprika, salt and celery seed.

3. Mix together flour mixture and cream in small sauce pan until smooth.

4. Add milk and stir until smooth. Heat over medium heating, stirring constantly, until mixture boils.

5. Reduce to a simmer and stir contents until they thicken (approximately 15 minutes).

6. Add noodles and stir until well mixed.

7. Pour into buttered 8"x8" casserole dish and top with egg slices (you can mix the eggs in, but since the girls are a bit hesitant about boiled eggs I made them easily accessible for removal).

8. Mix cream cheese with green pepper and spread on top of macaroni mixture.

9. Bake at 370 degrees for 20 minutes.

With a side of fresh green beans here's how it turned out:

The verdict: very plain but palatable. Eowyn happily ate her portion (she loves peas), Sissy declined (she "wasn't that hungry," sigh) and TMOTH and I ate hearty helpings with the addition of a fair amount of salt and pepper.

I like this recipe for it's simplicity (meatless, most ingredients are regular kitchen stock) and because it requires very few ration points. If you have fresh (or home preserved) peas the only rationed item required to make this dish would be the cream cheese - of which the amount used represents only around one red ration point.

But I'm afraid it does little more for me than to further my belief that the majority of 1940's cooking can be reduced to "Random Ingredient in a Doctored White Sauce," (click here and here for other examples).

But then, I guess a lot of recipes these days are really like that, too. Just think of how many recipes require a can of cream of mushroom or cream of chicken soup - those are just the modern processed versions of a white sauce (albeit with a ton more sodium and preservatives).

But I admit I'm a sucker for cream of chicken and wild rice soup and also that traditional Thanksgiving green bean casserole. What's your favorite version of a "doctored white sauce" recipe?

--Rational Mama

(Kinda) Historic Recipe: Beef Heart Kabobs

If you've never purchased a beef heart in the grocery store, I highly recommend you give it a try.

I've been scoping out the beef hearts in our grocery store for a few months, ever since I promised TMOTH after he suffered through the liver incident. Not wanting to renege on my promise, I decided that this was the week we'd eat beef heart.

When I did next week's grocery shopping on Thursday night I was quite surprised to find that they were out of beef heart. I had many questions: When does the next shipment come? Will it come in time? Who in this town is eating so much beef heart that the grocery store is actually out? And why?

Have no fear, when the girls and I headed to the grocery store yesterday they had at least a baker's dozen of beef hearts. In case you didn't know, this is what they look like at the store:

Oh, yea! Fresh, never frozen! (#obvioussarcasm)

Beef hearts are big. Most of the hearts at the store weighed in just under two pounds each, and at $1.19 a pound they're a bargain for lean beef. Of course, during WWII rationing beef hearts were also a bargain when it came to point values; organ meats were quite low on the point value list.

They are also a fun (and cheap!) way to test the personalities of your local grocery store personnel. When the teenage girl running the register picked up the heart to scan it, her hands hesitated over the scanner for just a moment while she registered exactly what it was she was holding. A true professional, she never lost her composure and slid it down the track for the bagger.

The teenage boy who was our bagger did an honest to goodness double-take when he picked up the heart. And then he froze. I'm not sure if he was contemplating what we were going to do with it or if he was having flashbacks to fifth grade dissection lab, but for one brief moment he was lost. He looked quite relieved when we picked up the bag and left.

At home it was time to prepare the beef. After reading through several beef heart recipes it was clear that beef heart is apparently best if marinated overnight in a marinade with a relatively high vinegar content.

I threw together the following marinade:

3/4 cup homemade zesty Italian vinaigrette salad dressing

1/4 cup cider vinegar

1/2 tsp cumin

10 drops liquid smoke

salt & pepper (not to be confused with Salt-n-Pepa)

Next up was to cut the heart into kabob-sized chunks. First, I had to remove the heart from the package.

Not so pretty, huh? Hmm...what can I say about cutting up beef heart? It has a slightly gamey smell and texture. If I didn't have experience processing deer meat the smell and tough texture combination might have been difficult to handle. Visible fat, pericardial tissue and anything that looked valve-ish was removed to the waste basket (not much at all, really).


Once combined, the beef and marinade mingled together in the fridge for just under 24 hours.

In the meantime, I learned that in Peru beef heart kabobs (known as anticuchos) are a party favorite.

Tonight I skewered the heart chunks along with some veggies to make a traditional kabob. At this point, the heart looked, felt and smelled just like regular chunks of traditional beef steak.

After grilling, and with basil-scented rice and steamed fresh snow peas, this is how they looked:
So how did they taste?

Eowyn was the first to dive in, grabbing a heart chunk in her hands (why, oh why, doesn't that girl find using a fork a natural thing to do?) and taking a big bite. She chewed, she swallowed.

And then she exclaimed, "It's delicious!"

TMOTH and I both thought the heart tasted just like regular beef steak, albeit a tad bit firmer than what we are used to. Victory was at hand! This was not going to be a repeat of the liver incident!

Sissy, suspicious of any new food in the house, took the tiniest nibble in the world and then stated that she didn't like it. And then she admitted that it "wasn't really that bad," but that she didn't want to eat it. TMOTH and I both believe that had she never known it was heart she would have happily gobbled down her share (Sissy's love for meat and is a strong and pure thing).

I asked her, "If that meat was wrapped in a tortilla with cheese and lettuce like a taco, would you eat it?" Sissy squinted her eyes at me; she knows that I know that soft tacos are an absolute weakness for her. Cautiously, she replied, "Yes." And then she added, "But we don't have any tortillas."

"But we do!" I said, calling her bluff. I plan on making cheese and black bean enchiladas later in the week, so tortillas were on hand.

And you know what? Sissy did eat the heart meat in a tortilla with cheese and lettuce.

So I guess that the moral of this story is that beef heart is actually quite acceptable (if you partake of beef in your diet). And I wonder how many children and husbands ate beef heart during rationing and were none the wiser.

Oh, and Sissy did say at one point that she prefers the idea of eating tongue more than the idea of eating heart.

Be careful what you say, little one.

--Rational Mama

(Kinda) Historic Recipe: Rhubarb Strawberry Crisp

While I was going through more newspapers from the spring of 1943 this week (What? You don't do that, too?) I noticed lots of rhubarb recipes on the ladies' pages. In honor of this fine tradition (and local rhubarb AND strawberries at the farmer's market today!) I whipped up the following dessert for tonight. It's a little rhubarb-heavy (I have other plans for the strawberries so I couldn't spare too many) but it was delicious. Yum!

Ingredients:
1 cup flour
3/4 cup oats
1 stick melted butter (or margarine, but ewww)
3/4 cup brown sugar
1 tsp cinnamon
3 1/2 cups chopped rhubarb
1/2 cup chopped strawberries
1 cup granulated white sugar
1 cup water
2 TB cornstarch
1 tsp vanilla extract

Directions:

• Combine flour, oats, brown sugar and cinnamon and press half of the mixture into the greased bottom of a 9" x 9" square pan.
• Top with rhubarb and strawberries.
• Combine sugar, water and cornstarch in a small saucepan and cook until thickened and syrupy. Take off the heat and add the vanilla.
• Pour syrup over rhubarb and strawberries.
• Top with remaining oat mixture.
• Bake for one hour at 350 degrees Fahrenheit.

We had ours with all-natural vanilla ice cream. Such a wonderful late spring/early summer treat!


--Rational Mama

Historic Recipe: Cabbage Delmonico (and, a farewell to a good friend)

Friends, throughout the course of this experiment you've read my ruminations about cabbage. Ah, that staple of restricted wartime winter diets; the only source of semi-fresh green leafy things for many months. We've baked it, made various salads out of it and had moments of frustration with it.

Today, I honor cabbage with another historic recipe: Cabbage Delmonico. The recipe comes from Joanne Lamb Hayes' Grandma's Wartime Kitchen: World War II and the Way We Cooked and is described as a "meatless main dish." Here's my version as I made it...

Ingredients:
2 lb head of cabbage
2 TB butter
3 TB all-purpose flour
1/2 tsp dry mustard
3/4 tsp paprika (Hungarian is best)
3/4 tsp salt
2 cups milk
1 cup grated extra-sharp Cheddar cheese
1/2 cup bread crumbs

Cut cabbage into 6-7 wedges and cook in boiling water for about 5 minutes (the recipe said to boil for 8 minutes but I didn't want to overcook my cabbage, per grandmum's instructions). Drain the cabbage.

In a small saucepan melt the butter over low heat. Gradually stir in the flour, mustard, paprika and salt until smooth. Gradually stir in the milk, stirring constantly over low heat. Add in the cheese bit by bit and stir until all the cheese is melted.

Place cabbage in 9" x 9" baking dish and top with the cheese sauce. Sprinkle the bread crumbs and extra paprika over the top and bake for 20 minutes.

This is what it looked like coming out of the oven:

And this is what it looked like on the plate:

Sigh. Can't cabbage ever look attractive? If you have an even half-way decent imagination then you can ascertain how this dish turned out. After all, it's pretty much just cabbage and a mild cheese sauce. I'm not sure if the "meatless main dish" description is historically true, or just one the cookbook's author felt fit well. Either way, there's not enough protein or carbohydrates to make this a satisfying meal.

Cabbage, dear cabbage...you're like the Susan Boyle of rationing. Humble? Yes. Comely? Yes. Underestimated? Yes. And then you get your chance to shine and surprise us all by how tasty you can be in such dishes as baked cabbage and Asian cabbage slaw.

But like Susan Boyle, your moment to shine will fade...and so fade, you must.

Due to the seasonal restrictions on our produce selection, this will be the last time we purchase/prepare cabbage in the house until late summer. The next few months will be filled with fresh spinach and lettuce and many other green vegetables which have waited anxiously to have their moments of recognition.

And so, cabbage, this is farewell. At least, until late August.

Adieu.

--Rational Mama

Kinda Historic Recipe: Soybean Hamburger Casserole (or...How to Make Your Nine-Year-Old Leave the Room Crying...)

Actually, I really wanted to use the following title for the post (but Blogger said it was too long):

Kinda Historic Recipe: Soybean Hamburger Casserole (or...How to Make Your Nine-Year-Old Leave the Room Crying and End Up Having a One-Hour Discussion About Expanding Personal Freedoms and Responsibilities)

Friends, we all have things that we started a little too late in life to really master. For me, I learned the basics of crocheting in my early 20's and then pretty much abandoned the craft until my mid-30's. As a result, my crocheting skills are limited to simple flat pieces and an occasional three-dimensional piece that uses only the most basic increasing and decreasing strategies. Need a potholder? I'm your gal. A basic ball? Bingo. Life-size Einstein doll with chemistry set? No, most definitely no (although, how awesome would that be?).

For Sissy, it's the eating of beans.

I blame myself, really. For whatever reason I didn't start my "we need to eat more beans" kick until Sissy was nearly six years old. Always the less adventuresome eater of the two girls, she did not do well with the introduction of legumes into her diet. Diligently she would pluck each individual black bean from her quesadilla and extract the chickpeas from her pasta dish. Due to our one-bite rule and repeated exposure we have now, after three solid years of frequent bean-based meals, gotten to the point where she will politely comply with beans mixed in with most Mexican fare and happily gobble up all the hummus in the house. Anything beyond this, however, is asking for trouble.

And asking for trouble is exactly what I did with Soybean Hamburger Casserole.

A bit of history first. Soybeans where touted as the preferred non-rationed meat replacement in the U.S. during WWII rationing. Soybeans were plentiful, cheap and provided a near-identical protein profile as meat. When rationing began soybean recipes became prominently featured in recipe books, ladies magazines and government publications. Usually, soybeans were used to extend the modest amount of meat used in a casserole or loaf recipe. Many baking recipes were adapted to include varying amounts of soy flour. Occasionally, soybeans were featured in a completely vegetarian main dish.

To experience a bit of this patriotic legume I chose a basic casserole recipe: Soybean Hamburger Casserole. A little meat, a little soybeans, a little cheese: should be a crowd-pleaser. Granted, this recipe is from the More-With-Less Cookbook, not a 1940's publication, but it so closely mimics the 1940's recipes I've seen that it's rationing-friendly at heart. By the way, if your are not familiar with this cookbook I highly recommend you check it out. It is a cookbook that will change your life. Seriously.

Anyhoo, here's my modest adaptation of the very basic recipe (found on page 110):

Saute in a large skillet:
2 TB cooking oil
1/2 cup onion
1.2 cup celery
1/4 cup green pepper (I used frozen since it's not in season)
1/2 lb ground hamburger

When meat is brown ad:
1 tsp salt
1 tsp garlic salt
1/4 tsp pepper
1/2 tsp seasoned salt
2 1/2 cups cooked soybeans (I couldn't find canned soybeans and the only place I could find dried soybeans was at the local natural food co-op)
1 1/4 cup tomato sauce
1 cup beef broth
2 cups brown rice

Simmer a few minutes and then place contents into a 9" x 13" baking dish. Cooked uncovered in 350 degree oven for 45 minutes.

Top with:
3/4 cup extra sharp cheddar cheese

Return dish to the oven just long enough to melt the cheese.

With a side of pan-seared cabbage here is how dinner looked:

I will confess that this dish has all the worst possible traits of a casserole: dull color, squishy texture, amorphous composition (there is NO way you can make out what is what in this thing). That being said, it was actually really tasty.

Of course, Sissy had to be convinced of that fact.

TMOTH and I happily gobbled up our servings, and Eowyn (who is a bean-lovers kinda girl) did pretty well with her portion, although the significantly firmer texture of the soybeans threw her off (think boiled peanut, rather than soft black bean).

Sissy poked and prodded her helping of Soybean Hamburger Casserole. She picked at and reorganized the mass. Her eyebrows did that scrunchy thing they do when you ask her to do something painful. She stalled. And stalled. All we asked for was one bite.

Eventually she took that bite and quickly followed it up with a giant swig of milk. But the casserole didn't go down. After a slightly panicked looked crossed her face she managed to swallow the bite. And then she refused to take another.

The rest of dinner was not so pleasant, as Sissy fumed and pouted about the (in her opinion) less-than-acceptable meal placed before her. We calmly explained that dinner was what it was, and it was neither disgusting nor painful and that eating it was her choice. She left the table in tears and headed up to her room.

Over the next hour TMOTH and I tag-teamed parental conversations with Sissy (who had, by this time, buried herself in blankets, eyes swollen red with tears). She expressed her opinion that we are not respectful of the fact that different people have different tastes. We explained that we understood that dinner was not to her liking, but that we did provided a dinner (which we do every night) that was not only nutritious but not inherently revolting. And we pointed out that many children in our own town don't even get that every night. The casserole, despite not being her favorite meal of the week, was something to be grateful about.

I so felt like I was about to channel the late-40's mantra of "There are starving children in China..."

But the conversation morphed and turned and she also talked about how she wants to be able to do more independent things like walk the dog around the block without supervision and other life matters which are critically important to a nine year old girl.

Readers, it's hard to be a nine year old girl. It's even harder when you're rationing.

So after amends were made and Sissy had a stomach full of cottage cheese as a dinner alternative, we settled down and managed to enjoy the rest of the evening.

And in acknowledgment of how hard it is to be a nine year old girl, I promise that next week's beans will be soft and black and encased in a gooey layer of cheese between two tortillas.

I promise.

--Rational Mama

Historic Recipes: Vegetableburgers, Crunchy Vegetable Salad and Maple Nut Pudding

Goodness!

Looking back through the archives I see we haven't done a historic recipe since the liver episode (and subsequent suspicious implosion of the oven range).

A nice, relatively safe (and organ meat-free) recipe seemed in order, and this gem on the left from the April 7, 1943 Topeka Daily Capitol seemed just the ticket.

A whole meal of rationing appropriate edibles: Vegetableburgers, Crunchy Salad (vitamin filled!) and Maple Nut Pudding.

Let's see...vegetableburgers first. Remember, this was in the days before Boca Burgers and Morningstar, so commercially-prepared alternative meat products were not an option. While most contemporary do-it-yourself meatless burgers are either legume-based (lentil burgers, black bean burgers) or grain-based (quinoa burgers, bulgur burgers), this recipe is a novelty in that it has neither. It's a simple mixture of diced cooked vegetables and a white sauce shaped into a patty, breaded and then fried. Since the girls are highly dubious of mushrooms (poor girls) I served the burgers on buns with traditional hamburger toppings.

The crunchy vegetable salad is about as simple as it gets: cut (mostly raw) vegetables in a thin coating of salad dressing. For the record, bottled French dressing was widely available in food markets in the 1940s. I didn't have any so I made a small batch from scratch.

The verdict on the main two dishes? Well, the vegetableburgers (and yes, it bothers me too that the two words are smooshed together into one larger word) were palatable, but quite mushy in the middle due to insufficient binding. I think they could have benefited from less white sauce and the addition of either a grain or more egg/breadcrumb substance to stay together better during the frying process. Both the grown-ups ate their burgers and each girl ate well over half of theirs, with stuffed-mouth comments of "It's okay but not my favorite."

The salad was, as promised, crunchy. And very pink due to the dressing and the beets. That's about all there is to say about that.

Now the pudding! Of course, how could we eat our pudding if we didn't eat our meat? Well, that's for Pink Floyd to take up since it was a vegetarian meal. I had never made pudding from scratch before and was quite surprised at the simplicity of the recipe: combine basic ingredients, stir a lot over low heat and then chill. The pudding was a big hit - hints of butterscotch without the scotch, thick and creamy and yummy. I think the girls would gladly eat more vegetableburgers if it meant maple nut pudding in the end.

So there you have it: one of the more successful historic recipe nights at the Rational Living household. And in all the entire meal used only 1 red ration point (on two tablespoons of butter) and no blue/green ration points.

Hopefully historic meals will only get better from here on out (although I did just remember I promised TMOTH we would try tongue or heart at some point...).

--Rational Mama

This Week's Scenarios and Menu (and Premature Spring)

I declared this weekend a "sit on my rear and do nothing weekend," so I'm pulling myself away from the crafting and my self-orchestrated Colin Firth movie marathon to bring you this update.

A few notes about last week...Remember that maximum surplus of roll-over miles TMOTH previously described? Well, with our little mini-vacation last week we finally had to delve into that reserve. In all, we used 264 miles last week, which is 71 miles over the weekly allowance. Thus, our roll-over miles have now been reduced from the maximum of 530 miles to 459 miles. That's still a ridiculously large amount of miles, in my opinion.

Also, last week's menu got a little improvised, between my temper tantrum and other situations. A few meals were cooked on different days and two meals got rolled-over into this week's menu:

Saturday: sandwiches and chips (who wants to leave a Colin Firth marathon to cook?)
Sunday: vegetable burgers, crunch vegetable salad and maple nut pudding (historic recipes that didn't get prepared last week)
Monday: freezer soup (whatever is in the freezer and unaccounted for is going in a soup)
Tuesday: spaghetti marinara and canned green beans
Wednesday: French toast casserole and canned fruit
Thursday: chole saag and rice and Spaghettios (the latter is for the girls)
Friday: beefless stronganoff and baked cabbage

Amazingly, we had no scenarios this week. Sissy was rolling the die for the week and casually said, "We could really use a six," knowing a six means no scenarios for the week. And then she rolled a six. I'm taking that girl to Vegas!

Also, I just realized that I didn't spend all of our ration points last week - we had five spare red points and two spare blue/green points. Beginning in 1944 the OPA started issuing red and blue tokens so that retailers could give change back for food bought with ration stamps. It allowed folks to be more precise with their purchases and created a mechanism by which one could save up a few extra ration points at a time. In the spirit of this, I'm going to consider the left-over points from last week as OPA tokens and roll them over into a future week's allotment.

Otherwise, last week was a lovely early spring week. Lots of sunshine lasting later into the evening, warm weather and the sprouting of many green things. On Thursday evening I took the following pictures...

There were the pretty crocuses:

The girls making mud pies (and muddy knees and foreheads and...):

TMOTH digging out a lilac bush to relocate to a different area so the blueberry bushes(!) can be planted:

And Fat Cat basking in the sun on the encolsed porch, listening for birdies:

Really, it was a lovely weather week. And then on Saturday morning we woke up to around four inches of snow.

Sigh.

At least I know that with tomorrow's highs in the 50's most of the snow will be gone shortly and we can return to our spring happiness.

In the meantime, I'm gonna make some hot tea, curl up on the sofa with a blanket and watch some more Colin.

--Rational Mama

Video: Two Cooks and a Cabbage

I had to wonder while watching this 1941 film from the BFI National Archives...

If I grow cabbage this summer do you think Eowyn and Sissy would be so excited about cooking their own?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2evv45stEHw

Not sure why the embedding isn't working anymore...

--Rational Mama

(Kinda) Historic Recipe: Crisp Lemon Liver

Friends, it was liver night tonight at the Rational Living homestead.

Liver was a frequent wartime meal because liver and other "organ meats" could be purchased with fewer ration points as compared to other traditional cuts of meat.

I tried to prepare as best as I could for tonight. I searched RecipeZaar.com (my favorite recipe site) for a highly-rated liver recipe. I found one that was ration-friendly and had numerous comments along the lines of "my kids never eat liver and they ate it right up!"

I went to the store, looking for nice, fresh calf liver, as described in the recipe. Apparently, however, in our town if you want fresh calf liver you have to go to the butcher's shop which would be about 11 miles round-trip. Ever sensitive to the mileage allotment (and being somewhat lazy) I settled for the generically labeled "beef liver" available in our local grocer's freezer section. In the back of my mind I thought it a bad sign that they didn't keep fresh liver on hand because, in my rationale, if liver is good enough that normal people eat it then the meat department at the local grocer should at least keep a tiny amount of fresh calf liver on hand to appease those loyal patrons.

But, no.

So I brought home a one pound package of frozen, sliced beef liver. And in it's sterile, firm packaging the staggered slices look quite benign.

TMOTH and I talked about the approaching liver night after the girls went to bed. I have no specific memory of eating liver as a kid and I know I've never eaten it past the age of, say, ten. TMOTH was raised with the occasional liver and onions dinner. Now, there are two things that, after nearly 16 years together, I know never to offer TMOTH: any form of olive and/or gratuitous amounts of onions. So, when TMOTH shared his memories of the horrible taste of liver and wrinkled his face in sincere grimaces of disgust I thought that maybe some of his disdain for liver had to do more with the onions rather than the meat itself. He assured me otherwise but promised to take one bite of the prepared liver since we have a one-bite policy in the house. And we both agreed to not tell the girls what the meat was until they, too, had had their one bite (so as to not prejudice their opinions).

When I arrived home tonight I grabbed the package of liver out of the refrigerator. No longer frozen, the package had turned into a bright red, bloody, squishy mass. Very squishy. I soon learned that thawed, sliced beef liver has the consistency of wet tissue paper and also attracts the family dog. I grimaced as I cut the liver in to slices for the recipe, but was optimistic since I couldn't detect any noticeable foul odor from the meat.

The recipe was quite simple and the liver cooked up in a flash. I was surprised that the odor wasn't too bad. I asked TMOTH (diplomatically making himself scarce) if the odor was bothering him in the adjacent room and he replied that it was pretty manageable. I started to get excited - could this be a victory meal?

After preparation, this is what the meal looked like:



I was hopeful; it had a sort of stir-fried, mini-chicken-fried-steak thing going and was drizzled with a lemony-bacon sauce. One the side? A generous pot of saffron rice and canned pears.

Sissy, ever the enthusiastic carnivore, took the first bite. She quickly spit it back out, saying it was too lemony and tasted a little strange. The piece of liver spent such a short time in her mouth I was doubtful if she really got the full flavor.

Eowyn, always a bit more reserved around meat, fondled a piece of liver in her mouth and then spit it out. Party pooper.

TMOTH was next. Like a champion he put an honest bite into his mouth and began to chew. After two chews his eyes became all squinty. After three chews his mouth was grimacing, apparently in a wrestling match with his mind. On the fourth chew the mind won and out came the (thoroughly chewed) liver.

Friends, I feel like I should tell you that chewed, cooked liver looks like cat-sick (as the author of On the Ration might say).

I was the only one left. Talk about peer pressure. I was ready to prove them all wrong. I put a good nickle-sized piece of liver in my mouth. I was pleasantly surprised by the texture; the wet tissue paper had been replaced by a tender meat, very similar to chicken fried steak. Another bite and I could taste the lemony-bacon sauce. Salty and tangy at the same time. Mmm... This wasn't bad at all. With the third bite I committed to the chewing - this piece was awesome and was going to make it all the way down unlike the other losers at the table. Four chews. Five chews. What a bunch of pansies, they couldn't keep the liver in their mouths for more than

OH MY HELL, WHAT IS THAT TASTE?

Why does it taste like burning plastic in my mouth? Did a chewing-activated enzyme just turn my piece of food into motor oil? What the hell is going on?

Friends, my piece of liver became reacquainted with my plate.

And then we all looked at each other around the table.

I think the rest of the family was a little proud of me. I think they would have been worried if I actually liked the liver. TMOTH said for the first several of my chews he thought I was really going to make it and be able to swallow that piece of liver.

Sissy sympathized with me, saying "I understand. At one point I had this thought that if I swallowed it I would chuck it right back up."

Eowyn quietly kept to her rice and pears.

Friends, I'd like to tell you that this will be the one and only "organ meat" recipe attempted during rationing year, but I'd be lying.

You see, I promised TMOTH that in exchange for his honest try at liver we could try a heart or tongue recipe in the future.

The best laid plans of mice and men...

--Rational Mama

The Doldrums

Another week, another menu... *yawn*

I'm afraid we've reached the doldrums...listlessly shuffling from one rationing week to the next, counting our points, making the same meals with the same *sigh* seasonal produce.

Same, same, same...

Of course, in 1943 most food rationing didn't begin until late February, so folks didn't have to wait very long at all for the growing season to begin and thus quickly had colorful and tasty options for their menu. Plus, they had nearly a year to plan ahead and preserve that bounty so they wouldn't get stuck with only cabbage and carrots next winter.

Us? We started in late December, so cabbage and carrots we have.

Why, oh why, didn't we wait to start rationing until the end of February?

Anyhoo...after TMOTH rolled a five last week for the Randomizer I wasn't going to chance it again and gave the die to Eowyn for this week's scenarios. And she proceeded to roll a five (head smack!). BUT, at least two of the scenarios we pulled for this week we're favorable, unlike last week, so it wasn't too bad in the end.

• Beef - limited, only 1/2 the normal purchase amount available
• Fresh Vegetables - limited, only 1/2 the normal purchase amount available
• Canned Fruits - Victory Special! available at only 1/4 the usual ration points
• Nuts and Nut Products - none available for purchase
• Poultry - surplus, available for only 1/2 the usual ration points

Luckily, the only beef on the menu this week (Monday's meal) was leftover from last week - we ended up not making the meatballs last Sunday and so can use that beef instead of buying new for this week.

The fresh vegetable shortage is a bummer and I had to downsize several portions for the week.

The Victory Special on canned fruits allowed us to buy a few extra cans of peaches and pears and a much coveted jar of applesauce.

I usually try to have a spare jar of peanut butter in the house since it is a staple at Rational Living. That will come in very handy this week since we can't purchase another. Also, there is a pecan pie scheduled for a special meal with guests on Friday that was in jeopardy until I remembered that we still have a stash of locally-grown pecans we picked a few seasons ago hiding out in the back of the cupboard. Whew!

Since poultry was available for reduced ration points I bought a pound of chicken breasts for future use and then obtained a nice quantity of turkey deli meat for a yummy sandwich night on Saturday (all those Subway commercials during the Olympics convinced me we needed a yummy sandwich night).

So here's how our menu shaped up for the week:

Saturday: deli-style sandwiches and chips
Sunday: roasted turkey, gravy, canned green beans and homemade stuffing
Monday: cabbage, tomato and beef soup with fresh baked bread
Tuesday: out to eat (our once-a-month splurge)*
Wednesday: hot dogs and oven-roasted potato fries
Thursday: crisped lemon liver, rice and canned fruit
Friday: bacon-wrapped venison tenderloin, baked sweet potatoes and baked cabbage

*Since it is an eating out week our point allotments for the week were reduced by 1/14th.

Did you see that on Thursday? It's a liver recipe. *shudder*

Liver seems to be a very generational thing, in that generations before mine eat it but subsequent generations don't. I tried to find a recipe that wouldn't be too anachronistic for our experiment but had a very favorable rating. I don't think I will tell the girls it's liver until I see their reaction - but more on that in a special "liver" post after Thursday night.

In the meantime - liver has such a reputation that I am curious as to if there was anything particular that your family cooked that you just couldn't bare to eat?

For me, it was these hamburger/shredded potato patty combinations...it seemed the potatoes were never fully cooked and made the entire patty a bit slimy. My stomach turns a bit just thinking about it.

Sorry, Mom.

--Rational Mama