Health
warnings and changing tastes have rendered foods that
were staples in earlier times anachronisms today.
I’ve already discussed organ meats. There’s just not much call for
lamb kidneys anymore, popular as they once were, and versatile as they are.
There are no “In-and-Out Sweetbreads” stands and no “International
House of Calves Liver” restaurants.
Other foods, once common, also have vanished from menus, or are virtually gone.
Youngsters today probably would gag at the thought of eating garden critters
such as snails, frogs and turtles. But escargot, frogs’ legs and turtle
soup, though never cafeteria fare, all were consumed by a broad segment of the
populace.
Escargot is still found on menus in French restaurants, generally served with
garlic butter. You’ll encounter escargot elsewhere, though with far less
frequency than in years gone by. Though associated with the French — who
were introduced to snails by Roman troops when Caesar invaded Gaul — this
common mollusk had been eaten by various civilizations, going back (according
to archeologists) to prehistoric times.
I haven’t seen frogs’ legs on a menu in a good long time. Those born
in the Kennedy era or later probably cannot imagine that any part of a frog was
once consumed by humans. The legs were, and they were delicious. There was “frogs’ legs
sauté meunierre,” a meunierre sauce being comprised of melted butter
with Worchester sauce and lemon. The amphibian’s gams were offered in garlic
butter, in a tomato based broth, french-fried, and in a multitude of other ways.
While not something served at church socials or featured in a TV dinner, frogs’ legs
were not strictly gourmet fare. I recall having frogs’ legs in a hotel
coffee shop in San Bernardino in 1964. I’m sure of the year because I was
there for a Goldwater rally.
Turtle soup is no longer served, or at least by law shouldn’t be. (I recently
saw it on a menu in a Chinese restaurant.) Since 1978, sea turtles have been
protected under the Endangered Species Act.
It is lawful, of course, to sell “mock turtle soup,” which originated
in England in the mid-18th century as a low-cost substitute (made with calves’ heads).
But it’s probably not profitable to offer it on menus. If people don’t
know what real turtle soup tastes like, they’re not apt to find interest
in an imitation of it.
Creamed dishes, once common, are now passé in light of the concern over
cholesterol — a danger, by the way, which my wife’s consultation-by-phone
doctor in Boulder, Colo., who specializes in metabolic medicine, dismisses as
hokum. In light of prevailing medical thought, however, it might be prudent not
to discount the notion that excessive cholesterol leads to heart disease.
On the other hand, preoccupation with current health theories should not lead
to total abstinence from foods that have long been enjoyed. The praised-today,
condemned-tomorrow nature of medical advice on foods should point to a need to
avoid dietary absolutism.
Yet, in these days of anticholesterolism, chicken à la king, for example — once
a standard dish everywhere from lunch counters to “classy joints” — would
be a surprising inclusion on menus.
Usually served on toast, chicken à la king is also known to be ladled
on rice. Or, I should say, was.
Virtually taboo in these times, along with that dish, are creamed turkey, lobster
thermador, any kind of shellfish in newburg sauce, or the eggs goldenrod I extolled
recently.
Various other foods are becoming, or have become, relics of past tastes.
Bone marrow, found on menus in a time earlier than I can recall, is never, never,
on menus nowadays.
Seldom found are prune juice, sauerkraut juice or (an unfortunate omission!)
clam juice.
“Pink Champagne” is a song which has outlived the availability of
its subject matter. Crepe suzette, baked Alaska and huckleberry pie are deserted
desserts, and Welsh rarebit is a bit of a rarity.
I wonder if a retro-cuisine restaurant — with decent service, appropriate
motif, and recipes faithful to the originals — would succeed.
The "55-Plus" column
is written especially for those over the age of 55, by a veteran California
journalist who is himself eligible for the club. Roger M. Grace has written
and edited newspapers for more than four decades, and has been a lawyer for
more than three.