When I was twelve years old, we moved from a semi-suburban, overwhelmingly Mormon neighborhood to a neighborhood full of hippies. My Jell-O consumption, already shaken by the disappearance of my beloved Jell-O 1-2-3, took a nosedive. Gone were the block parties and playdates with their lime Jell-O jigglers and [...]]]> Jell-O and the Kewpies. New York: American Lithographic Co., 1915.

When I was twelve years old, we moved from a semi-suburban, overwhelmingly Mormon neighborhood to a neighborhood full of hippies. My Jell-O consumption, already shaken by the disappearance of my beloved Jell-O 1-2-3, took a nosedive. Gone were the block parties and playdates with their lime Jell-O jigglers and pistachio puddings; my mother started buying fruit leather and hummus from the local food co-op instead. Over the last few years, in my own mildly reactionary way, I have found my way back to Jell-O. I now own at least three Jell-O cookbooks and a variety of molds. I even had myself convinced at one point that Bavarian Creams (Jell-O style, of course) were just the thing for summer entertaining.

Jell-O did not worm its way into my heart by accident. Orator Frank Woodward, who bought the rights to Jell-O in 1897, was determined to dominate the American gelatin industry. He proved adept at marketing. In 1902, his company, the Genesee Pure Food Co., advertised Jell-O as “America’s Most Famous Dessert,” long before most Americans had ever heard of it. Catchy slogans were only one part of their plan. They also wrote, and cleverly gave away, colorful pamphlets with recipes for Jell-O. These pamphlets created a demand for Jell-O, as Woodward had hoped. Beginning in 1904, these pamphlets included pictures of the “Jell-O Girl.” Her face was displayed prominently on Jell-O boxes and advertisements, and was meant to differentiate Jell-O from its competitors. In 1908, the Kewpies made their first appearance. They were also used in advertisements, pamphlets, and packaging.

This pamphlet, published in 1915, begins with an earnest introduction of the Kewpies. They are “cheery little imps, who are always doing something to lighten tasks and brighten the dull spots in life, to make the easy Jell-O way still plainer and easier” (emphasis added). Jell-O was selling a lifestyle, not just a dessert. They were also, just to be safe, attacking other desserts: “Twenty years ago everybody ate pie and nearly everybody had dyspepsia…. Now there is scarcely a housewife in America who does not make and serve Jell-O desserts, and stomach-ache is not so common as it used to be.” Jell-O was easily molded *and* cured stomach ailments–a wonder dessert!

And, I admit, the desserts do look pretty wonderful. Marion Harland’s Pineapple Bavarian Cream (ingredients: lemon Jell-O, canned pineapple) and the Delmonico Dessert look great. Even the unadorned Raspberry Jell-O in the lower right looks beautiful. They had nicer molds in 1915.

Jell-O, as it happens, is more than just a pretty dessert. It is also, according to the Kewpies, “good for little folks, sick or well.” And though he goes unnamed, “one of the greatest physicians in America says that he found that by combining nuts and fruits with Jell-O he produced a diet which is both sustainable and delightfully palatable.” I might find an all Jell-O diet “delightfully palatable” for about a day, but I find it hard to believe that anyone would want to go much longer than that.

 The pamphlet comes with a little bonus: a section about Jell-O Ice Cream Powder. The box claims that the powder can be used to make “puddings, ice creams, sherbets, and ices.” Jell-O eventually abandoned the ice cream powder idea, and focused their attentions on pudding. These ice creams, though–tutti frutti, walnut, Neapolitan–look rather exciting.

The pamphlet ends with the Kewpies, this time in strange (military, housewife) costumes, guarding the Jell-O, and a reminder that “the famous Jell-O desserts can not be made of anything sold in any other kind of package.”

Jell-O has published countless pamphlets and recipe books. I recommend Carolyn Wyman’s excellent Jell-O: A Biography for those interested in learning more.

I was going to begin this post by triumphantly declaring that I didn’t own a single can of Campbell’s soup. But when I went to the kitchen to double-check, I found (of course) a can of cream of mushroom. I have no idea where [...]]]> Helps for the Hostess. Camden, NJ: Joseph Campbell Company, 1916.

I was going to begin this post by triumphantly declaring that I didn’t own a single can of Campbell’s soup. But when I went to the kitchen to double-check, I found (of course) a can of cream of mushroom. I have no idea where it came from, but there it was. My mother, raised in California in the 1950s and thus perversely fond of canned soups, would be proud. Some quick back-of-the-envelope math leads me to believe that I ate chicken breasts with cream of mushroom soup approximately three hundred times between the years of 1978 and 1996; green bean casserole (canned green beans, water chestnuts, cream of mushroom soup, Durkee French-fried onions) probably accounts for another hundred and fifty or two hundred exposures. My Campbell’s soup consumption, aside from the occasional can of chicken noodle when I was under the weather, was mostly in the form of these casseroles. I was not alone. John Thorne, in his wonderful Mouth Wide Open, points out that “purchasers us[e] one of every three cans as a recipe ingredient; with cream of mushroom soup, that figure jumps to 80 percent.”

Until 1916, when Campbell’s published Helps for the Hostess, canned soups were primarily marketed as, well, soups. Perhaps realizing that the demand for clam bouillon and mutton soup had its limits, Campbell’s devised new recipes. For the first time, the soups were used as recipe ingredients, rather than as stand-alone courses. Helps for the Hostess starts off with menus featuring Campbell’s soup, but eventually moves on to aspic, pointing out that with Campbell’s consommé and bouillon ”you [could] have a crystal-clear aspic without any labor.” No more “trouble boiling, straining with egg whites, etc.:”  

 The really brilliant turn, though, comes when the authors suggest that Campbell’s soups can be used as an alternative to “elaborate” sauces:

One of the most important and economical uses of CAMPBELL’S SOUPS is for sauces. Instead of taking time to make and season elaborate sauce, you need only use one of the many kinds of CAMPBELL’S SOUPS. Many times unattractive “left-overs” are thrown away when, by using a can of CAMPBELL’S SOUPS, they could have been made into an attractive, appetizing dish. You can combat the high cost of living by using CAMPBELL’S SOUPS as sauces, thus making a second meal at low expense and the quality of the sauces obtained in this way leaves nothing to be desired.

In 1916, though, none of Campbell’s 21 varieties of soup (there are now 81 and counting) came pre-thickened. They were condensed, but not sauce-ready. The pamphlet suggests making a roux with one tablespoon of butter and one tablespoon of flour, to which any of their soups could be added. This is marginally faster than making a sauce from scratch, but Campbell’s eventually realized that they could make things even easier for their customers. In 1934, Campbell’s introduced cream of mushroom, and “America’s béchamel” was born. Helps for the Hostess has a number of recipes based on tomato soup instead, like the vol-au-vent, halibut, and spaghetti below:  

For time-saving recipes, they are curiously involved. The rice for the vol-au-vent is carefully molded (and since when is a vol-au-vent made with rice?); the halibut is broiled and brushed with butter; the spaghetti (once the “tubes” are cooked) is tossed with a fancy ham/mushroom/green pepper/onion sauce. Canned tomatoes or even fresh tomatoes would hardly have been more work. If the aria below about their tomato farms and choice meats is to be believed, Campbell’s was trying to sell their customers on the idea of quality and consistency more than convenience, at least in the early days:  

Campbell’s has published many cookbooks and produced lots of memorabilia over the years, so much so that there’s a book just for collectors. Sample titles include: Campbell Kids Alphabet Soup, Cooking with Soup, and Back Label Recipes and More!