Well, dear readers, it seems as though we are in the '20s again, and since "Dry January" seems to be a growing trend, I thought I would look at some historic alternatives to alcohol for those who don't imbibe or those who are taking a break.

Prohibition, the 18th Amendment to the Constitution banning importation, production, sale, and consumption of alcohol in the United States, officially took effect across the country in January, 1920. 

It was a long, long road to the Constitutional amendment. Begun in the late 18th century, the Temperance movement was a response to the increasing consumption of distilled liquor by the general populace. Rum, distilled by slaves from molasses produced by  brutal Caribbean sugar plantations, was flooding the market at the end of the 18th century. Cider, ale, and small beer were common daily beverages. John Adams was known to enjoy hard cider with breakfast. George Washington adored Maderia. All the founding fathers drank at levels that seem excessive by today's standards. And the Whisky Rebellion was just the beginning of American distilling. 

Alcohol was a way to preserve and consume calories (whether from apples or grain) and was known to be safer for drinking than most water. But it had unsavory unintended consequences. For Temperance advocates, alcohol enhanced all of humanity's sins: drunkenness begat violence, both domestic and public, and wasted hard-earned wages while children starved. 

In February, 1751, the famed British satirical artist William Hogarth published a pair of etchings in reaction to the Gin Craze. They were meant to be viewed side-by-side, with "Beer Street" at the left and "Gin Lane" at the right. The etchings were accompanied by the following poem:

​Gin, cursed Fiend, with Fury fraught,
   Makes human Race a Prey.
It enters by a deadly Draught
   And steals our Life away.

Virtue and Truth, driv'n to Despair
   Its Rage compells to fly,
But cherishes with hellish Care
   Theft, Murder, Perjury.

Damned Cup! that on the Vitals preys
   That liquid Fire contains,
Which Madness to the heart conveys,
   And rolls it thro' the Veins.

The pair of images was meant to illustrate the evils of gin consumption in London. In the above image, emaciated drunks line the streets. A drunken woman lets her baby fall to its death. A person has hung themselves in a dilapidated building and other dwellings are falling down. The distillery, pawn shop, and coffin maker are all doing very well and EVERYONE is drinking gin.

Meanwhile, on Beer Street, healthily rotund, industrious people are resting from their day's work to have a beer. The pawn broker's building is a dilapidated ruin, the dwellings in good shape as construction begins on another, and everyone is well-dressed and otherwise in good spirits. This images was accompanied by the following poem: 

Beer, happy Produce of our Isle
Can sinewy Strength impart,
And wearied with Fatigue and Toil
Can cheer each manly Heart.
  
Labour and Art upheld by Thee
Successfully advance,
We quaff Thy balmy Juice with Glee
And Water leave to France.
  
Genius of Health, thy grateful Taste
Rivals the Cup of Jove,
And warms each English generous Breast
With Liberty and Love!

If we were to compare 18th century Britain to America, we might replace gin with rum (with its problematic connections to slavery), and beer with hard cider, the drink of choice for thousands of colonists and later American citizens. William Henry Harrison won the 1840 presidential election by running as the "log cabin and cider" candidate - meaning a Western pioneer, the better to appeal to rural voters against the much-maligned Martin Van Buren, of upstate New York, who lost his reelection campaign. 

But while whiskey, rum, and "fortified" wines like Madeira and port remained popular beverages throughout the 18th and 19th century, alcohol consumption remained as a problem for women and children. Although many Temperance advocates initially just targeted distilled spirits, soon beer and wine and indeed, any alcohol at all, was decried as the root of many evils.

Many abolitionists were also Temperance advocates. Lyman Beecher, father to cookbook author Catherine Beecher and her more famous author sister, Harriet Beecher Stowe, was an early Temperance advocate. Connected to a religious revival in America as part of the Second Great Awakening, Temperance gained traction in communities throughout the United States. 

The above image is a 19th century analog to the Hogarth images. At left, a healthy-looking family kneels before a man who is perhaps a minister. The angel of Temperance with her anti-alcohol pledge floats down on a cloud, with cupids and a cornucopia of prosperity. In the background, a new and prosperous looking church At the right, a drunkard, bottle in hand, sprawls on the floor. His overworked wife and starving children huddle in the background, with the little girl praying to the glorious angel. Sad looking shacks appear behind them, with a mob of people in the street. 

​After the Civil War, the fight for Temperance continued. Throughout the 19th century, towns, counties, and even states held referendums on whether or not to go "dry." Some advocates installed drinking fountains in public squares in cities around the country. The Women's Christian Temperance Union, one of the strongest proponents of Temperance, formed in 1874. In 1900, Carrie Nation took to violence, chopping up saloons with a hatchet, to try to suppress alcoholism. In 1913, the federal income tax was instated. For the first time, the federal government had a form of tax income that did NOT come directly from the sale of alcohol, which had previously been the main source of tax income. 
​
During WWI, the Temperance movement and the Prohibitionists used the threat of wartime and even the need to conserve grain as a reason to instate Prohibition. 

Here, the threat of alcoholism and "hardened liver" is compared to the deaths caused by the common house fly. At the bottom, the flyer calls for a Constitutional Amendment. Published in 1917, this flyer was created at the outbreak of World War I.

Although the United States was not at war when the above image was published in Puck, it nevertheless made a case to reinstate the Army canteen, where beer and soft drinks were sold. Congress had apparently disbanded them by grace of the Women's Christian Temperance Movement - illustrated here by a hysterical older woman in blue and accompanied by an elderly minister and, in the rear, a "timid legislator." The comparison is made between an Army-sponsored canteen and a public "dive," where soldiers drink to wrack and ruin and can consort with the prostitute implied by her red dress and shoes in the lower right hand corner. 

This illustrates that some people still fought to keep beer and hard cider as a part of daily life, even as public opinion against distilled spirits waxed to a frenzy. Thirty-six states did, indeed, ratify the 18th Amendment on January 16, 1919. It read, "After one year from the ratification of this article the manufacture, sale, or transportation of intoxicating liquors within, the importation thereof into, or the exportation thereof from the United States and all territory subject to the jurisdiction thereof for beverage purposes is hereby prohibited." Prohibition, as it came to be known, went into effect on January 16, 1920. 

Prohibition came to represent government overreach into peoples' daily lives and the criminalization of alcohol allowed organized crime to flourish in the 1920s, despite the best efforts of police. Gangsters like the infamous Al Capone, wielding machine guns they learned to use in the First World War, made fortunes off of illegal distilleries, speakeasies, and other criminal enterprises, all while dodging federal taxes. Well, at least until the Feds catch up with you, right Al? 

The wealthy could afford to keep consuming booze (often from the wine cellars amassed on their private estates) as police and prosecutors largely looked the other way. The poor and middle class risked their lives on bathtub gin, wood alcohol, and methylated spirits (also known as denatured alcohol) which caused blindness or even death. The illegality meant that alcohol production was unregulated and therefore dangerous to human health. 

Prohibition was ultimately a failure. The stock market crash of 1929 and subsequent Great Depression left many people in severe economic (and mental) distress. It was repealed on December 5, 1933, with the ratification of the 21st Amendment, which specifically repealed the 18th. For many, the return of the ability to self-medicate with alcohol helped temper the despair of the Depression, although it likely ruined as many lives as it helped.

But while romanticized notions of the "Roaring Twenties" continue today, we can learn from the problems that Temperance sought to solve. Absenteeism and incarceration both declined during Prohibition. Alcohol consumption overall did decline in the 20th century, thanks in large part to the Temperance movement. 

Today, more and more people are reassessing their relationship with alcohol. In 2006, food writer John Ore coined the term "Drynuary" to describe what he and his wife considered to be a post-holiday alcohol detox. "Drynuary" or "Dry January" has been embraced by an increasing number of people and while the peer pressure to consume alcohol in social settings still exists, it is becoming more acceptable to abstain in public. Are we on the brink of a new Temperance movement? Probably not, but interesting to see the historical parallels. 

As we are in full swing of "Dry January," and as more people are embracing temperance, we can look to the past for interesting non-alcoholic beverages to tempt our palates. 

The nice thing about having an extensive library is that it is easy to do research when I want to - I just head upstairs to my little office and library, tucked up under the eaves of our little house. I pulled a couple of 1920s cookbooks that revealed some fascinating recipes.

Coffee and tea were the most common alcohol replacers in polite society, but a number of fruit-based beverages and punches were also popular. Of course, most of them are very heavy on the sugar. The rise of soda fountains in the 1900s was in part a direct response to Temperance - it was a wholesome place for young people, women, and families to meet and socialize. It also meant that many Americans were replacing the vice of alcohol with what we know today to be the vice of sugar. 

The first book I perused was not this one, but I thought I would start here because it is the oldest of the 1920s cookbooks I looked at and its recipes were among the most interesting. Good Housekeeping's Book of Menus, Recipes, and Household Discoveries was published in 1922. 

Don't these sound delightful? "Apple Tree Dulcet" in particular is a brilliant name, although it's much more of a dessert than a beverage.

"Gingerade," made with fresh or "green" ginger root also sounds delightful, if spicy.

Of these I think the Grapefruit Punch sounded the most delicious. I love both grapefruit and maraschino cherries, but have never had them together. I often drink half grapefruit juice, half ginger ale as a bitter-sweet winter tonic. 

2 cupfuls water
3/4 cupful sugar
1 cupful grapefruit juice
1/2 cupful grapefruit pulp
juice of 1 lemon
1/4 cupful maraschino cherries
mineral water

Combine the water and sugar, boil one minute, and let cool. Meanwhile, extract the grapefruit juice and to this add the grapefruit pulp and the lemon-juice. Allow to chill thoroughly and then add the maraschino cherries cut in halves. Dilute with mineral ice-water and serve very cold.

I love collecting community cookbooks - the earlier the better. This particularly nice one from Utica, NY (which is also where I found it), has just one page of beverages. Published in 1924, it includes a homemade version of what was likely a soda fountain drink: Strawberry Flip. Note that it calls for only one TABLESPOON of vanilla ice cream. Per serving, of course. 

The one that seems the most interesting to me is the first Fruit Punch, by Bessie C.B. Capron. 

1 cup sugar
1 cup very strong tea (black)
2/3 cup orange juice
1/3 cup lemon juice
1 pint ginger ale
1 pint appolinaris

This makes enough for 10 glasses.

Okay, this probably needs a little translation for most people. To make the tea very strong, steep 2-3 bags in one cup of boiling water. The orange and lemon juice should be fresh-squeezed. And the ginger ale is probably better if you can find something a little stronger than your garden variety - a craft ginger ale would do nicely. And appolinaris? That's a German type of sparkling mineral water. Known as the "Queen of Table Waters," Appolinaris was a brand name mineral water discovered in the 1850s that is still around today. Although these days it's owned by Coca-Cola. 

This recipe is actually somewhat similar to 18th century punches that called for sugar, citrus juices, black tea, and sparkling water, albeit with the addition of strong spirits like rum and brandy (see: Fish House Punch). 

Marion Lockhart's Standard Cookbook is a teensy tiny little hard cover (hence the fingers to hold it open). Published in 1925, it has a wide variety of punches, which is lovely. I do love malted milk, but I'm wary of raw eggs, so the "Egg Malted Milk" is not one I would probably attempt. However, the "Currant and Raspberry Punch" sounds divine. 

Take 1/2 glass (about 3-4 ounces) currant jelly and dissolve in 1 cup boiling water. To this add 1 cup raspberry sirup and 1 pint fresh water. Pour over ice in punch-bowl, then add 1 quart charged (sparkling) water.

This makes about 2 quarts and seems like the perfect pink party punch to serve for Valentine's Day or a girly party. Despite the syrup and jelly, it also probably isn't too sweet, as you're cutting about 1 pint of sweet stuff with 1 pint of water and a quart of sparkling water. 

And last but not least! The New Delineator Recipes. Published in 1929, this one comes with a few quite lovely photos. "Reception Chocolate" looks delicious and would be perfect for a winter hygge party. 

"Veranda Punch" listed here is very similar to the "Fruit Punch" listed above. 

Of all of these recipes, "Grape High Ball" sounds the most interesting, in part because it uses Niagara grapes. If you live in the Northeast, you can still find both Concord and Niagara grapes at some U-Pick orchards. If you've never had Niagara grapes, I recommend trying them if you see them. A dusky golden color, neither they nor the classic deep purple Concords are much like today's table grapes. Niagara grapes are very soft, with slippery-sweet insides and seeds. But they have a lovely flavor - almost perfumed, and would make a sophisticated beverage. 

For sake of ease, I am combining the two recipe instructions.

Wash grapes and boil [until] skin, pulp, and seeds separate. Press through a jelly bag and to every pint of juice add one-half cup of sugar. Boil for twenty minutes and chill.

​In glasses half-filled with shaved ice, add equal parts syrup and charged (sparkling) water. Lemon is an attractive addition.

Well, that's all for now folks. Are any of you attempting a Dry January? If so, what do you normally drink for festive occasions? Share in the comments! 

And, as always, if you enjoyed this (long!) post, please consider becoming a member of The Food Historian! You can join online here, or you can join us on Patreon. Members get access to members-only sections of this website, special updates, plus discounts on future events and classes. And you'll help support free content like this for everyone. Join today!

And what a year it has been! But Sarah, you say, a year? Didn't "The Food That Built America" only come out in August? Why yes, dear reader, it did. But the magic of television isn't created overnight. And it was exactly on January 16, 2019 that the dear folks hired by the History Channel to do the production of that wonderful series sent me an email through this very website. 

Although I have been on television before, this was my first interview of this length and professionalism. It took place on a frigid January day in a Brooklyn warehouse equipped with a very noisy heater. So it was off during filming. My 2 pm interview was constantly interrupted by the air brakes and backing-up beeps of the trucks that still visited the industrial area where we were filming. At one point you could see my breath on the air. But dear reader, it was so FUN. There were two cameras, one on a track to my side, which was a bit intimidating. The other was affixed with a mirror so I could see interviewer Thaddeus in the reflection (he was sitting to the side of the camera) and look right into the camera while appearing to look him in the face. Which made things much easier and less intimidating, to be honest. There were also about 10 people in the room with us, but of course they were so quiet it was easy to forget they were there. Thaddeus asked me lots of interesting questions, and I did my best to give good answers and, my specialty, lots of fantastic context to all the topics they were discussing. On several occasions, I even managed to repeat myself after each truck interruption without losing too much of the original quote. In all, I'm pretty proud of how I acquitted myself.

My only regret is the World War I context - Thaddeus didn't make it clear in his questioning that they were going to be talking primarily about the businesses during WWI, so my responses were all about the regulations on individual Americans. Had I realized, I could have pontificated at length about the impacts on food businesses and retail during the war. Oh well. No one's perfect. 

At any rate, a friend who teaches Family and Consumer Science (or FACS, as it is often called) told me the other day that FACS teachers around the country were using "The Food That Built America" in their lesson plans. And every couple of months another person I went to high school with or I know through work takes the time to mention that they saw me on TV, which is always fun. Although, sadly, I did not receive payment for my interview (as I'm sure few of the other interviewees did), I did get a free train ride and a car to pick me up, so that was nice. 

If you haven't seen "The Food That Built America" yet and you have cable - check out the History Channel from time to time - they seem to be replaying it quite frequently. Looks like they removed the online screening from The History Channel website, sadly.

BUT! If, like me, you do NOT have cable, you can purchase or rent the episodes through Amazon Prime. As an Amazon affiliate, if you purchase anything from this link, I will get a small commission.

Have you seen "The Food That Built America?" What was your favorite part? 

January is the time of year when many Americans, having made New Year's resolutions, try to eat healthier. But household food waste accounts for a good chunk of overall food waste, which besides being a big waste of water and energy, is also a contributor to the production of greenhouse gases. 

During both World Wars, food waste came up, but the First World War was a bit more significant. We were still coming off the effects of the Gilded Age, when wealthy Americans ate to excess, feasting on a great deal of meat, including some from rare or even endangered animals (for instance, terrapin, the diamondback turtle made so famous by soup, was hunted nearly to extinction and is still threatened to this day). Even as we underwent a series of depressions and industrial recessions between 1893 and 1914, the rise of restaurants and the proliferation of refrigerated railroad cars made more food accessible to more Americans than ever before.

But WWI made global competition for resources more intense than ever. As the United States entered 1917 with only enough wheat to feed itself, and hog, beef, and dairy production designed largely for domestic consumption, Americans had to conserve in order to free up enough food to send overseas. 

The United States Food Administration's anti-waste campaign was part of that conservation plan. Progressives loved statistics, and used them to good measure. If each American saved just one slice of bread per meal, for instance, it would add up to hundreds of thousands of loaves, which would translate into plenty of wheat flour to be sent overseas. 

Combined with messages of thrift (curbing waste saves money) were subtle messages about weight and consumption that fit in nicely with the new Progressive values of self-control, an active lifestyle, and the willowy Gibson Girl physique.  

This propaganda poster is a good example of just that. A rather large man, reminiscent certainly of the rotund gentlemen commonly seen in Gilded Age paintings and photographs, sits alone at a table, smoking a cigar. Clearly he has finished eating, although there is still food on all of the numerous plates in front of him, and two waiters in the background bear away trays containing more half-eaten food. One of the slender waiters looks back incredulously at the diner. The text says, "Sir, don't waste while your wife saves. Adopt the doctrine of the clean plate - do your share." Restaurants in particular would come under the jurisdiction of the United States Food Administration, but while there were restrictions on bread service and sugar bowls and meat on the menu, the federal government could not stop people from ordering as much food as they could afford, whether they ate it or not. The reference to the wife was perhaps meant to shame men. Women were largely in control of the household meals, and many middle and upper-class women were taking to voluntary rationing with a vengeance. Perhaps wealthy men escaped to restaurants to eat as they pleased. The federal government was urging them not to undo the patriotic war work of their wives and to pull their own weight in the fight for food conservation.

The first propaganda poster makes a slightly more subtle play, reading in part, "Leave a clean dinner plate. Take only such food as you will eat. Thousands are starving in Europe." Sound familiar? Perhaps your family used the (admittedly racist) "Children are starving in Africa," but the sentiment is the same. Photographs and images of children in Belgium and France were being used to good effect in the United States in an attempt to wake up isolationists to the terrors happening abroad. Both phrases use guilt and shame to get you to finish eating everything you took. Not exactly the most healthful advice, but at least during WWI they recommended you take only what you knew you could eat, instead of letting your eyes be bigger than your stomach. 

Although not as popular as calls to plant war gardens or can fruits and vegetables, the "gospel of the clean plate" nevertheless urged people to think more about food waste. Of course, as one woman complained in a letter to Herbert Hoover, the poor already saved food, planted gardens, ate less meat, and preserved what they could. 

Still it's advice that we would all do well to emulate today. We're pretty good at eating leftovers in my house, but sometimes we just can't finish them in time or (shocker, I know), dinner wasn't as good as you'd hoped, so eating the leftovers becomes a real chore. My leftovers usually make it to the compost pile, if not our stomachs. But other food waste reduction advice of the time included feeding 

But if you find yourself buying boxes or bags of leafy greens and salmon and fresh fruit in a fit of health this year, maybe hold off a bit, and eat down your cupboards instead. 

Most people know that the First World War official ended on Armistice Day - November 11, 1918 (the eleventh hour, of the eleventh day, of the eleventh month, to be exact). The war that was supposed to be over by Christmas had finally ceased, just four years after it began. But although the guns had stopped firing, the Treaty of Versailles was not signed until June 29, 1919. Armistice came on the heels of winter, after several devastating years of war in Europe. Agricultural fields were destroyed and so many men had been killed it was uncertain if labor would be available to cultivate fields again in the spring. ​

Herbert Hoover and the United States Food Administration​, along with President Woodrow Wilson, knew that the food supply for both American troops staying on in Europe  for the next few months, the Allies, and even the defeated Germans would continue to need food aid. 

Hoover was left with the difficult task of convincing Americans that not only did they have to keep saving food, despite the official end of hostilities, they would also have to feed their former Hun enemies. But the American harvest, geared up for another potential year of war, had been a good one. And the USFA began to lift restrictions on commercial food production, retailing, and food service industries. 

By December 22, 1918, the last of these restrictions had been lifted, just in time for Christmas.

The New York Times article above, published December 23, 1918, reads:

"LAST BAN ON FOOD IS LIFTED TODAY

Federal Administration Drops Restrictions on Public Eating Places

BUT URGES CONSERVATION

Its Activities Are Now to be Centered on Preventing Profiteering and Speculation.

Special to the New York Times.

WASHINGTON, Dec. 22. - Announcement was made by the Federal Food Administration tonight of the issuance of orders dropping all food restrictions beginning tomorrow morning. From time to time various regulations have been abandoned, and since Oct. 21 last the principal specific food regulations in force were those known as the "twelve general orders for public eating places." These latter are to be dropped, effective tomorrow morning.

In rescinding the "twelve general orders" the Food Administration emphasizes the need for continued care in food in order that the United States may meet its pledge to relieve conditions abroad. The twelve general orders for public eating places, which were designed as a war measure to restrict food at the time the devices of meatless and wheatless days and the substitution of one food for another were abandoned, went into effect on Oct. 21. It is estimated that 9,000,000 persons take their meals in public eating places - hotels, restaurants, cafes, clubs, and dining cars - and the food saving through this system of conservation is declared by the Federal food officials to have been very great, despite the fact that compilation of the total savings has not been possible to date.

In notifying the Hotel Chairmen on the staffs of the Federal Administration of the decision to rescind the present food regulations the Hotel Division of the Food Administration asked that they hold themselves in readiness to assist in putting into effect any specific measure which public eating places, through developments in world relief, may in the future be called upon to carry out. 

The twelve general orders provided that no public eating place should serve bread or toast as a garniture or under meat, allow any bread to be brought to the table until after the first course, or serve to one patron at anyone meal more than one kind of meat. Bacon was barred as a garniture. A half ounce of butter was regarded as a portion, and cheese was limited to a half ounce for a meal. Nos. 8 and 9 referred to the sugar restriction. The others referred to waste and the use of cream and butter fats.

Conservation Still Urged.
Notwithstanding the lifting of restrictions the Food Administration will not cease its activities entirely until a Presidential proclamation releases the public from the Food Control act, which may be some months in the future. Meanwhile, particular attention will be paid to profiteering and speculation in licensed food products. The profit and margin rules will be enforced as they have during the last few months. 

The New York Federal Food Board issued a statement yesterday urging the proprietors of eating places to continue conservation of foodstuffs.

"There should be no waste or extravagance in the use of any foods," said the statement. "All food should be prepared and served with the idea constantly in mind that America must send 20,000,000 tons of food to hungry Europe during the next twelve months and that the greater part of this food can be secured only by saving."

The board made public the following telegram from the Food Administration at Washington:

"Partial demobilization of the Food Administration and the withdrawal of many of its rules and regulations have given the impression in some quarters that all activities have ceased, or are shortly to cease. This is not the case. The act imposes upon the administration certain obligations, which continue until Presidential proclamation releases us from the Food Control act, and particularly the obligation to curb profiteering and speculation in licensed food products. This function must continue to be performed, and there is not intention of relaxing in this direction. It has been possible, now that peace is assured, to cancel many requirements for reports and many of the details of the regulations, but the profit and margin rules have been, for the most part, retained, and will be enforced by revocation of license and other appropriate penalties. It is expected that it will be possible from time to time to remove certain commodities from the license list, but this will be limited to commodities which do not seem likely to be subject to possibility of speculation and profiteering."

The above propaganda poster from the Chicago division of the US Food Administration, features doughtboys at a mess table and reads "You Saved Food for Them, Now Save to Make Their Victory Complete. Famine has spread throughout Europe - Anarchy is following. Feed the starving millions and Bolshevism will vanish. Are you doing your part? Eating only what you need - not all that you can. America must continue to save food. Live simply - follow the doctrine of the clean plate. The sooner normal conditions are established in Europe the sooner our boys can come home. Will you help bring them back quickly? Eat less, waste nothing."

Playing on fears of the 1917 Russian Revolution and the spread of socialism in Europe, the United States Food Administration used the admiration for "our boys" to convince Americans to keep up their thrifty wartime ways, even as food restrictions were being relaxed. 

Christmas, 1918, was likely a very happy one for most Americans - the war was over, the danger of German invasion a thing of the past, and the United States and her Allies victorious. Being able to have a basket of bread and butter before a restaurant dinner of steak probably didn't hurt, either. But many American soldiers remained in Europe, helping rebuild villages and roads, burying the dead, and otherwise securing the countryside. And 1919 would hold domestic unrest for the United States. It was the war to end all wars, and it changed the global balance of power, and Western society, forever.

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"Help in the Harvest - ICE is needed to Save Food for the Starving people of the World." Produced by the United States Food Administration in conjunction with the National Association of Ice Industries. 

This propaganda poster is a bit unusual for several reasons. For one, it does not actually feature a particular foodstuff. For another, the reason for this poster is the result of a very unique time period in American history.

For most of the 19th century and into the early 20th, if you wanted to keep food cold, you had to harvest natural ice on a pond, lake, or river, store it in an ice house packed with straw or sawdust, and hope that enough of it survived the spring, summer, and fall for you to keep your ice box well-chilled with enormous blocks of ice. If you lived in an urban area, the ice man would deliver weekly a giant block of natural ice to help keep meats, milk, and leftovers adequately chilled to prevent short-term spoilage. 

By the time of the U.S. entrance into the First World War, artificial refrigeration was on the rise, and frozen food storage and refrigerated rail cars were new and effective technologies.

However, artificial ice production, advertised as more pure than natural ice, which often came from polluted rivers and lakes, required ammonia to produce ice. But ammonia was also used to produce munitions, and during the war a shortage ensued. 

The harvest of natural ice was encouraged to assist with the shortage and ice was promoted to prevent food waste from spoilage. 

Following the war, the spread of electricity led to the increasing popularity of electric refrigerators. Present before the war but enormously expensive, by the 1920s they were approaching ubiquity in the nation's urban areas. 

​If you enjoyed this World War Wednesday post, consider becoming a member of The Food Historian! You can join online here, or you can join us on Patreon. Members get access to members-only sections of this website, special updates, plus discounts on future events and classes. And you'll help support free content like this for everyone. Join today!

Okay, so this is only peripherally about food, but it's an important image to give some context about.

During both World War I and World War II, gasoline was in short supply. It and rubber tires were actually rationed during the Second World War, as evidenced by the propaganda poster above. 

In it, a woman walks along, her arms full of packages. In the background, the silhouettes of soldiers, bayonets fixed, packs full, march behind her. She says, "I'll carry mine, too!" making a clear reference to the packs the soldiers behind her are carrying. Below it says, "Trucks and tires must last till victory." 

This image needs some context because most modern Americans don't realize what grocery shopping was like before the 1950s. As a rule, most cities did not have supermarkets as we know them today. That development was starting in the 1940s, but it was not until the end of the war that being able to roam a large store with a shopping cart and help yourself was a common occurrence for most ordinary Americans. 

Most Americans in the first half of the 20th century visited individual shops - a greengrocer for produce, a butcher for meat, a bakery for bread and pastries, and often yet another store for canned goods or staples like flour, sugar, and coffee. In big cities, you might also visit a cheesemonger, pickle store, or other specialty shop. Milk and other dairy products were obtained from a fluid milk dealer, who delivered. Although early in the century lower-quality milk was sometimes also available "dipped," meaning you brought your own pail and they dipped it out for you. This was largely consumed by folks who could not afford to have higher quality bottled milk delivered.

But many families also had other food products delivered. It made sense prior to the First World War. After all, milk, ice (for your ice box), and coal were already delivered. It was simple enough to use a telephone to place a weekly or even daily order from the butcher and greengrocer. But wartime meant efficiencies. So delivering small items to individual households multiple times a week was a waste of manpower and fuel. 

The campaign to cut down on deliveries started during the First World War as housewives were encouraged to actually visit the stores they ordered from. Propaganda persuaded housewives that they could better keep an eye on quality and sanitation if they went themselves. Which was likely true, as some housewives may have been duped by unscrupulous shopkeepers. But housewives visiting those shops themselves would have still had to place a request with a shop clerk, who would retrieve the items and weigh or measure them for you from bulk. With the exception of the increasing popularity of brand name products, many people still bought "generic" bulk goods. Gelatin, coffee, canned soups, boxed cereals, crackers and cookies, condiments like ketchup and mustard, spices, and coffee and tea were increasingly purchased pre-packaged. But someone else brought the package down from the shelf for you.

That way of shopping was changing by the 1940s, but home deliveries still abounded. During World War II, the emphasis was on saving fuel and tires. By walking and carrying her own goods, the housewife was saving on fuel, rubber, and manpower, too. 

Of course, changes to housing patterns post-war would also play a role. The development of suburbs meant that no longer could the housewife walk or take public transportation to the nearest store. She had to drive. Driving meant she could carry more, and bigger refrigerators and new deep freezers meant she could shop less frequently, too. It was a sea change in how life was lived. And the repercussions are what many people are trying to escape today, with a return to mixed-use and walkable neighborhoods. 

Despite living only a mile or so away from several grocery stores, there are no sidewalks in my neighborhood and I live on a very busy road where the speed limit is 55 mph. Which means I have to drive to stay safe. But I try to combine trips on my way home from work to be more efficient. 

In this day and age, communities are also increasingly banning or restricting the use of plastic bags. The county I work in has a total ban, and charges 5 cents for paper bags. As a result, I've started carrying reusable bags with me more often. But the lack of plastic packaging in this image is striking - the boxes are wrapped in brown paper and tied with string. In her paper bag, a bunch of carrots with green tops pokes out of top, along with what appears to be celery and paperboard boxes - maybe pasta or cereal? 

At any rate, it's a striking image, and one with some lessons in sustainability. Could we ever go back to an era of paper, cardboard, tin, and glass when we are currently so addicted to single-use plastic? Something to think about. 

How do you do your shopping? 

"Can Vegetables, Fruit, and the Kaiser, Too. Write for Free Book to National War Garden Commission, Washington, D.C." 

September is still preserving time, so I thought the next few World War Wednesdays would be about canning. 

This is another of my favorite World War I propaganda posters. Developed by the National War Garden Commission, the poster shows glass jars with zinc tops. Tomatoes at left, peas at right, and front and center, the profile of Kaiser Wilhelm II, German Emperor and King of Prussia. His spiky German helmet and saber hang on the jar, which is labeled "Monarch Brand, Unsweetened." 

Eminently clever, the poster implies that home preserving has the power to defeat the might of the German Empire and the Kaiser himself. 

The First World War was one of the first times that ordinary Americans were called upon to preserve food in their homes. Many Americans, especially those in rural areas, were already canning and preserving the bounties of their home gardens. But as commercial canning became increasingly widespread, inexpensive, and safer, people with easy access to food retailers found it much easier to simply purchase canned goods, instead of going through the bother of putting up their own. Many people were still using the tried-and-true, but not necessarily safe, methods of their forebears. And while water bath canning was increasingly outpacing the traditional food preservation methods of fermentation, drying, and sealing jam with paraffin wax, water bath canning low acid vegetables still was not 100% safe. 

But as the government encouraged food conservation and food preservation, the National War Garden Commission stepped up to the plate. Founded (and funded) by timber magnate Charles Lathrop Pack, the National War Garden Commission published a series of food preservation pamphlets that were used all over the country by home economists and women's groups to encourage home canning. 

The National War Garden Commission was also behind the school garden movement, but that's another post. 
​ 

The Commission would go on to produce a number of pamphlets on war gardening (renamed "Victory Gardening" post-war, a term that would be revived during the Second World War), including one pamphlet entitled "The War Garden Guyed," published in 1918. A clever play on words ("to guy" someone was to make fun of them, or ridicule), the "Guyed" contained cartoons, poems, and slogans both promoting and making fun of the gardening and food conservation movements. Submitted by newspaper editors, soldiers in the trenches, magazines, and ordinary people, the collection is quite a fun read, and not the only version the National War Garden created. 

"Raking the Gardener and Canning the Canner" predated "The War Garden Guyed" by one year - published in 1917, a quick turnaround indeed and indicates how quickly ordinary people adjusted to the idea of home gardening and canning.

You can view almost all of the National War Garden Commission pamphlets on archive.org. 

In 1919, the National War Garden Commission used the "Can the Kaiser" poster image again, this time on their revamped "Home Canning & Drying of Vegetables and Fruits," rebranded "Victory Edition" post-war. At the bottom of the cover, it reads, "The Kaiser IS Canned." 

Although the fervor for home canning, thrift, and self-sufficiency continued into 1919 and 1920, by the time economic prosperity had returned full-force to give us the Roaring Twenties, most ordinary people who took up canning for the war effort abandoned it in victory. 

But I like to think that many of the food preservation lessons learned during the First World War would be revived and put to good use by the time the Second World War rolled around.

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"Sugar means Ships. Consumption of Sugar Sweetened Drinks Must be Reduced. For your beverages 400 million lbs. of sugar were imported in Ships last year. Every Ship is needed to carry soldiers and supplies now."

This unobtrusive but nonetheless striking propaganda poster from the First World War was produced by artist Ernest Fuhr in 1917 for the United States Food Administration. 

In it, a soldier stands on the shores of Europe, rifle in hand, beckoning and shouting "Hurry!" to steamships carrying supplies from the United States as he heads toward the dark clouds of War. At left, in the foreground, a fashionable young woman drinks from a giant soda fountain cup. By sucking on the straw, she diverts more than half of the steamships, these labeled "sugar," back to the United States and into her cup. 

Although sugar was not rationed for civilians until the fall of 1918, a number of factors are at play here. First, is that unlike during World War II, the United States had poor mobilization of industry. In the short year and a half that the United States was in the war, not a single merchant ship was completed in time for war service, though 122 were started and completed after the war. In addition, even when the United States was a neutral country, German U Boats were always a risk (see: the sinking of the Lusitania). When it came time to ship millions of troops and supplies overseas, every ship possible was pressed into service. 

At this time, although the United States did produce its own sugar, largely through sugar cane plantations in Louisiana, it also purchased a great deal of sugar from the Caribbean, particularly Cuba. With railroads also tied up as goods and people moved east, ships were among the most efficient ways to ship shelf-stable staples like sugar. 

Leading up the U.S. entrance into the First World War, the United States had the highest per-capita sugar consumption in the world, consuming 85 pounds of sugar per person annually, compared to just 40 pounds in England. This extremely high sugar consumption was tied in part to the Temperance movement. Under the conventional wisdom of white, middle- and upper-class Protestants, alcohol was a social evil, and the basement saloons and bars that dotted urban neighborhoods throughout the country, with their free lunches to entice customers inside to drink more beer and other liquor, were dens of iniquity, tempting working class men to drink up their wages, to the detriment of their families. Nevermind that for many immigrant communities, social drinking was a convivial community event that often involved women and children (the Yankee reformers would be horrified). 

Soda fountains and tea rooms were a growing alternative. Soda fountains in particular were attractive to young people. And the reputation of fizzy "mineral" waters and "tonics" like Coca-Cola (which contained cola leaves - the main ingredient in cocaine) gave a veneer of health to what was otherwise sugar water. Ice cream was another extremely popular dessert turned snack in the Progressive Era and commercial production skyrocketed in the years leading up to the war. Tea rooms served fancy iced tea cakes and cookies, sweetened tea, and "dainties" like creamy fruit salads made with Jell-O - and plenty of sugar. The conventional nutrition wisdom of the time was that sugar was a carbohydrate, and carbohydrates gave you energy, therefore, sugar was good for you. 

Although sugar was not rationed for civilians during the war, it was for commercial enterprises. The production of ice cream and soda were both restricted during the war starting in the fall of 1917, and restaurants, hotels, and railroad dining cars were banned from leaving sugar bowls on the tables, as had previously been the norm. Civilians were encouraged to give up their sugar addictions, or at least transfer them to other sweeteners like honey, corn syrup, molasses, and maple syrup. Recipes for cakes, cookies, and preserving with these sugar alternatives were released to the public as part of the war effort. Although it's not clear if these efforts did have an effect on American sugar consumption during the war, the popularity of soda fountains, ice cream, gelatin fruit salads, and candies continued to be an American obsession. 

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I ran across this little political cartoon when researching for my book Preserve or Perish, which is about food in New York during the First World War. I also study wedding food traditions, so of course when I saw this, I cracked up. 

A wedding party is gathered at the altar, and everyone is turning to look at the best man, who is rushing up to the altar waving a piece of paper. The caption reads, "BEST MAN: 'Hooray! I've got written permission from the Food Controller to throw ten grains of rice after them.'" Although the New York Public Library doesn't list what newspaper or magazine it is from, it is dated as August, 1918. 

The cartoon is hilarious for a number of reasons, but the primary one is that it is a gross exaggeration of the level of food control in the United States during the First World War. With the exception of sugar toward the end of the war, mandatory rationing was never put into place for ordinary Americans. Only food producers and retailers had restrictions placed on them. On potential exemption from that (besides sugar) was the requirement that all customers had to buy two units of non-wheat grains or flours for every one unit of wheat they purchased. For example, by purchasing one pound white wheat flour, a shopper would be required to purchase an additional two pounds of some other grain (they could mix and match) such as cornmeal, rye flour, barley flour, rice, or oatmeal. 

Rice, however, was never rationed. In fact, although it was not as widely available as cornmeal, it was touted as a wheat substitute. But political cartoons are all about taking things to extremes, so the joke is that food is so heavily "controlled" that even a few grains of rice must have permission to be thrown away. Which also fits into the propaganda around wasting food that was prevalent at the time. 

The other interesting, although not particularly hilarious, commentary of this cartoon is that this is clearly a fairly wealthy family. Then men are wearing morning coats with tails and spats on their shoes. The bridesmaids are in matching outfits. The bride has a very long veil and there are flowers and greenery galore. It indicates that even the wealthiest Americans could not escape the reach of the "Food Controller" - a.k.a. Herbert Hoover, Federal Food Administrator (a term he vastly preferred to "controller" or even the popular-in-the-press "dictator," which did not have quite the same meaning then as it does now).

The early 20th century was when marriage traditions were starting to solidify as weddings became more formal, public affairs. Throwing rice at the couple at the end of the wedding was one of those "traditions" at this point. Along with a white dress, flower bouquet, white bride's cake to eat at the breakfast (yeah, they were still breakfasts at this point, although luncheons and teas were becoming more common) and spice/fruitcake groom's cake to take some as a favor. 

In all, it's a cute-but-biting commentary on food control during the First World War. And it made me laugh, so I had to share. 

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This week's #WorldWarWednesday post comes from Food Historian fan and First World War researcher and food conservation reenactor Sandra Dunlap, who sent me this gem of a recipe. I thought it would be a good follow-up to last week's post on conserving wheat.

Tested Recipe No. 9 - Rice Flour Sponge Cake
100% Wheat Substitute

4 eggs
2  tablespoons lemon juice
1/8 teaspoon salt
1 cup sugar
3/4 cup rice flour

Separate the whites and yolks of the eggs; beat yolks until thick and lemon colored, then add the lemon juice and salt. Add sugar and beat until light. Fold in the well beaten whites of eggs and the sifted flour and bake in a moderate oven.
Washington, April, 1918.

If you'd like to replicate it yourself, and Sandra and her daughter did, you'll need a few extra instructions. A "moderate oven" is 350 F, and Sandra and her daughter used an 8" round cake pan. And those egg whites will likely need to be beaten into stiff peaks. As for the unmentioned baking time? As Sandra recalls, it took about 45 minutes. 

These sorts of recipe cards and recipe booklets were extremely common during the First World War as a way for ordinary people to try to conserve wheat, which was in short supply and needed to be sent overseas to feed the Allies and American soldiers. 

Rice flour was not a common ingredient in American kitchens in 1918, but sponge cake certainly was. American housewives would have been very familiar with the basics of making a sponge cake and these simple cakes would either be served with just cream and fruit or might be cut up to make a trifle or other, fancier dessert. During wartime, because sugar was to be avoided, perhaps the cream would be sweetened with honey or maple sugar. Granulated sugar was necessary to make a sponge cake, however, which is why it is not omitted from this recipe. Any frosting was more likely to be a glaze or made with vegetable shortening than butter, which is also not needed for sponge cake. Conveniently for those who are gluten intolerant or who have celiac, this cake is not only 100% wheat free, it's also 100% gluten free! 

Although it's not in the title, Sandra called this a lemon sponge cake, and given that lemon is the most prominent flavor, it stands to reason that the cake would taste a little of lemon, too. I can imagine this being very nice with raspberry jam and a little whipped cream. Happy historic eating!

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