Every now and again I add another example to my Welsh Rabbit recipe collection, and I must be due to give you another one or two of them. If you remember from the original posts on Welsh Rabbit Which is Not Rarebit (here and here), one of the theories about the name is that it originated in an ethnic slur. I came across another variation of the that sort of friendly nationalistic joking (?) the other day while searching for something completely different. The header was “Sure and there’s no bird in it at all” – and the slurred ones are the Irish.
Here is the recipe for Irish Turkey, from Mrs. Elmer Trump of Allentown , PA November 12, 1939 .
Irish Turkey
“Here is my recipe for Irish Turkey that is both delicious and satisfying.”
“I buy a pig’s stomach. Clean and set it in water overnight. The next morning I make it as follows: I judge whenI have enough potatoes cut in small cubes to fill it. On the day before I cook 1 pound nice lean pork and ¾ pound of very nice veal. To this I add 1 teaspoon salt. When cool cut in pieces. I keep the broth to roast the stomach in and dip 3 slices of bread in it and cut in cubes. When the potatoes are almost steamed 1 put in 1 onion cut real fine, 2 eggs and sweet marjoram or parsley and salt and pepper. Last of all I put the meat in the pan, fill the stomach, and sew the end up and roast it. This I roast for 1 ½ hours, then remove the top of the roaster and brown it nicely. I also prick the top of the stomach with a fork on account of bursting. Put on a large plate and slice. I pour brown butter over it. This is an inexpensive substitute for chicken or turkey. I serve it with cranberries and dried corn. I bet you cant beat it, that is if you are not like some people and afraid of a pig’s stomach.”
I think I definitely have another subject heading for recipes – Cooking by Ehnic Slurring. If you have any good examples, do please let us all know in the comments.
Quotation for the Day ...
Laughter is brightest, in the place where the food is.- Irish proverb
2 comments:
An inexpensive substitute, she says. My, times have changed.
When I was growing up my mother frequently served something called Irish spaghetti on Fridays (we were Catholic). It was spaghetti noodles boiled to death and then baked in a casserole dish in a tomato sauce with cheese but no meat.
It was pretty awful.
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