My favorite book about entertaining is, without a doubt, Elsa Maxwell’s How to Do It, but the Better Homes and Gardens Guide to Entertaining has its moments too. Published in 1969, it covers everything from picking the right guests (”a party revolving [...]]]> Better Homes and Gardens Guide to Entertaining. New York: Meredith Books, 1969.

My favorite book about entertaining is, without a doubt, Elsa Maxwell’s How to Do It, but the Better Homes and Gardens Guide to Entertaining has its moments too. Published in 1969, it covers everything from picking the right guests (”a party revolving around touch football would be inappropriate for your elderly friends”) to the setting (”You can even decorate the garage, carport, or attic, for parties if you wish”) and, of course, the menu (”if you’ve invited foreign guests–their religion will often determine what they can eat”). Relentlessly upbeat, it promises a “comprehensive treatment of all elements of entertaining so that you may find the answer to any hostessing problem.” The solutions they suggest to these problems resemble, at best, the set of a Douglas Sirk movie and, at worst, a Jell-O and maraschino cherry fueled nightmare. I think this table setting falls squarely in the center of that continuum:  

I sort-of like the placemat (it’s cheerful!), but the aggressively painted egg-carton flower arrangement is a little too much for me.

I *love* anything that touches on teens and their blossoming hostessing skills. The Guide doesn’t disappoint, noting that “[s]picy, hot, unusual foods seem to be teen favorites.” Their suggested menu: Tamale Hero Sandwiches, “pickle-sickles,” and ice cream. Yum.

The menus for the adults aren’t much better. The meal below is, as promised, “colorful and eye-appealing,” but I have some doubts about the flavor combinations. I would probably secretly enjoy that ham/cheese/mushroom/cornflake casserole (the dishes aren’t labeled, so I’m guessing about the contents), but I feel less certain about the artichoke and mandarin orange salad, and more than a little worried about that (canned?) cherry parfait.

Aside from a delicious-sounding recipe for Swiss Baked Eggs (bacon, light cream, Swiss cheese, eggs) and some truly lovely mid-century modern furniture lingering in the background, I’m afraid that The Better Homes and Gardens Guide to Entertaining hasn’t aged so well. But if you, like me, have a soft spot for the garish and optimistic hostessing styles of the 1960s, this book is a treasure trove.

The editors of Better Homes and Gardens are responsible for many other books, including the famous “Plaid” cookbook, now in its 12th edition.  

Published in 1931, Lovely Food was the work of an English socialite and hostess, Ruth Lowinsky. Her husband, Thomas, was a Surrealist painter, and they collaborated on the book. She wrote the menus and the recipes; he drew centerpieces to go [...]]]> Lowinsky, Ruth. Lovely Food: A Cookery Notebook. London: The Nonesuch Press, 1931. 8vo. 127pp

Published in 1931, Lovely Food was the work of an English socialite and hostess, Ruth Lowinsky. Her husband, Thomas, was a Surrealist painter, and they collaborated on the book. She wrote the menus and the recipes; he drew centerpieces to go with them. Lowinsky’s emphasis was more on entertaining than on cooking; many of the recipes are mere outlines. When preparing clear mushroom consommé, she simply tells the reader to “make a good consommé,” neglecting to go into what that might actually involve. The result is recipes that read more like instructions from mistress to cook than tips for a novice in the kitchen. The references to servants sprinkled throughout the book make it seem likely that this is, in fact, what Lowinsky had in mind.

Lowinsky, merits at the stove aside, was clearly an energetic and entertaining hostess. The menus in the book are all centered around witty, and occasionally improbable, dining scenarios. In one, she imagines that the reader’s stuffy father-in-law is coming to dinner, “prepared to judge you as either the laziest housekeeper in Europe, or the most extravagant, or even a subtle combination of the two.” Under the circumstances, she suggests consommé, smelts, chicken, meringues, and a centerpiece that looks like it might have been made from a slinky:

In addition to in-laws, Lowinsky addresses a number of other possible dining companions: those who don’t eat red meat (a rarity, one would assume, in 1931); those who fancy themselves gourmets but really only fancy their own opinions; and my favorite, a “dream party” made up entirely of her intellectual crushes. She acknowledges that “one can never hope to meet, or if met, be remembered by: Einstein, Mr Charles Chaplin, Freud, Virginia Woolf, Stella Benson, Mussolini, P.G. Wodehouse, Mistinguett, Lydia Lopokova, and Jean Cocteau,” but she suggests a menu nonetheless. Apparently, they would best enjoy a slightly exotic meal, interpreted through the lens of classic French cuisine:

Her old stand-by, consommé, makes an appearance, but this time it is bolstered by the addition of some curry powder and “desiccated cocoanut” (perhaps for Mussolini’s benefit?). The tomatoes are Spanish, the salmon “en suprise.” The centerpiece looks like a wedding cake.

Though the menu suggestions may seem a bit over the top, and the recipes occasionally under-developed, Lovely Food has an undeniable charm. It’s worth reading for the centerpieces alone. And who else would tell you what to make if P.G. Wodehouse was coming over to dinner?

Ruth Lowinsky’s other books include: More Lovely Food, Food for Pleasure, and Russian Food for Pleasure.