Fun at Rummage Sales

Yesterday Nathan and I went to a rummage sale at the nearby Jewish temple.  We visited toward the end of the multi-day sale, and the organizers were starting to get desperate to get rid of stuff.  So they started handing out paper bags to customers and telling them that they could take whatever fit in the bag for $5.  This same thing happened last year at the Lutheran church rummage sale, except they were giving you the whole bag for $2, so they must have been more desperate to get rid of stuff.

Now, the thing is, at the end of a rummage sale, you probably aren't going to find a diamond ring to stuff in that paper sack.  And, truthfully, there was nothing there that I wanted to take home, even with the astounding "all-you-can-cram-in for $5" deal.

But I felt kind of bad for leaving empty-handed, and I reasoned there must be something I wanted in this giant room full of people's discards.  Plus Nathan started throwing some of the most random miscellaneous crap into the bag, like seriously broken toy parts and stuff, and ... well, this would be where I was supposed to use that parental technique known as "saying no," but I didn't think of that because my mind was too caught up in calculating all the amazing deals that could be had.

Eventually I stumbled upon this vintage cookbook:

 Helen Gurley Brown's Single Girl's Cookbook, copyright 1969

Like at the eye-catching orange and yellow swirls!  It's everything a turn-of-the-decade book cover should be: the psychedelic swirls of the sixties meets the hideous color palate of the seventies!  

I find the introduction on the front flap really funny:

Another cookbook?!

Yes, another cookbook.

And this particular one was four years in the preparation.  It's for single girls who haven't done much cooking before and for married girls who want to be as attractive as single girls in their husband's eyes.  Actually, it's so basic anybody can use it. 

First of all, I like how even in the late sixties, the market was already so over-saturated with cookbooks that she has to ask, "Another cookbook?!"  (And yes, it was in red font like that, and yes, she used the question mark/exclamation point combo, or interrobang or "quesclamation mark," which I foolishly thought was invented along with the Internet.)

Also, Helen Gurley Brown was like a major feminist, and in my college days I was informed that the term girls was demeaning to women and not at all politically correct.  Plus, the implication that you could cook your way into being attractive to your husband, to the point that you would be as attractive as a single woman ... hahahaha.  And how does being single equal being an inexperienced cook? 

Oh but wait, Helen's feminist slant comes out later in the introduction:

I believe passionately that any girl who wants to, can have a lovelier, happier life.  Not because it will be plopped into her lap but because she can do things herself to make it happen.  Cooking is one of them.  It's creative and you can please a lot of people with it.  You don't do all this cooking specifically for a man.  You do it for you, but if you follow the directions for each little dinner carefully, you can't help but wind up one of the most beloved hostesses in town. 

See, being a modern woman is about making success happen for you!  And there's no better way for a girl to get ahead in life than by cooking "little dinners"!  And oh, you're not cooking just for a man, you're sequestering yourself in the kitchen for you.  All this toiling in the kitchen is worth it, because you'll wind up one of the most beloved hostesses in town, and there is truly no greater honor that can be bestowed upon a woman. 

Note to self: Do not put the late sixties on your list of places to visit once you perfect that time-travel machine. 

But, as you can see, Helen Gurley Brown's Single Girl's Cookbook is a fun historical document.  And even though I have said before that my own person cabinet is as crowded with cookbooks as a 1969 bookstore shelf apparently was, it's still fun to have a vintage cookbook. 

Helen Gurley Brown begins by telling you the essential items you must have for the kitchen, and aside from "molds for aspic," the rest of the items seem like classic items that are still important today.  But I like what she says about the "Electric blender" :

This is a big investment, but I do think you should save up and buy one as fast as you can.  ... An electric beater, can opener, juicer--even a waffle iron and toaster--you can probably live without; a single girl doesn't--shouldn't anyway--eat a whole lot of toast or waffles, but don't wait too long to acquire the blender.

Did you get that?  If you're single, you aren't allowed to eat toast or waffles.  In fact, I shouldn't be telling you this, but the night before your wedding, your mom or another trusted female relative sits you down and gives you the true secret to making quality toast and waffles. 

Or maybe toast and waffles are really only for men, so that's why a single girl shouldn't have appliances that can make these food items? 

But for when you do catch a man, you might want to make "Rhett Butler Casserole You Can Feed Any Man" (p. 24), though I take exception with the "any man" part because it has sweet potatoes in it and my husband doesn't like those.  Perhaps he'd prefer "Deviled Kidneys with Mustard Butter and Bacon" (p. 66), except he doesn't like mustard.  (Plus, you know, it contains kidneys.) 

What is also nice is that Helen gives you menu options for very specific situations, such as "Summer Dinner for the Gang" or "When Your Boss Comes Over for Dinner in the Winter."  (Though I'm pretty sure when your boss comes over for dinner in the winter, the only difference between that and when your boss comes over for dinner in the summer is that you have to let him feel you up under a wool sweater as opposed to your sundress.  Presumably these recipes for when your boss comes over are kind of "hands-off" cooking, since you're too busy with your boss being "hands-on" with you in the living room.  A good single girl allows for the obligatory sexual harassment time.) 

Also: The "Winter Dinner for Relatives You Don't Like" menu, which has ... what? ... poison in it?  (Actually that menu just has more kidneys in it.)  Oh, and the "Summer Dinner for Relatives You Don't Like" features "Jellied Beef Tongue in Red Wine."  Relatives you don't like, indeed.  I think I'd prefer poison. 

Then on page 257, Helen gives us the recipe for "Wonderful Coffee."  Now, I realize in the sixties women weren't enrolling in college at the same rate as they are now, but how dumb were these single girls presumed to be?  The ingredients for "Wonderful Coffee" are: water and (see if you can keep up here) coffee grounds.  Thanks so much, Helen!  All these years I thought you were supposed to put kidneys in coffee!  

So, as you can see, this cookbook will prove to be infinitely useful.  Worth the $5 in and of itself!