BOOK REVIEW: ‘A Square Meal: A Culinary History of the Great Depression’

OPINION:

A SQUARE MEAL: A CULINARY HISTORY OF THE GREAT DEPRESSION

By Jane Ziegelman and Andrew Coe

Harper, $26.99, 314 pages, illustrated

This is one of those rare books which deliver more than they promise. For although it is indeed an exhaustive examination of how Americans ate — and changed the way they did so — in those tough years, it is also a highly informative look at American culinary culture throughout our nation’s history. For example, the book begins with a description of the huge rations provided to American doughboys in France and the sumptuous meals they expected and got when they returned stateside.

There is an excellent intrinsic reason for this, because reaching back to the past provided fruitful inspiration for coping with a challenging present. Nothing sounds grimmer or more indicative of the exiguousness we might expect of a Depression-era volume than “The National Cookbook.” But the culinary historians who wrote “A Square Meal” show us that it was quite a different kettle of fish altogether: “If native cooks had recently lost their way, ’The National Cookbook’ was ’meant to call people home.’ “

Being introduced to its author Sheila Hibben is worth the book’s price all by itself:

“Hibben, who had spent years living in France, was well acquainted with the foods of la cuisine regionale and felt the same honors should be paid to American regional fare. South Carolina hoppin’ John, Pennsylvania pandowdy, and New England clam chowder were as good as anything found on the Continent.”

As the authors go on to write, “Fifty years before Alice Waters, just as the variety of canned and frozen foods was soaring, Hibben was preaching the gospel of fresh and local ingredients . Ingredients mattered.”

What you see in Hibben is a heartening reaffirmation of good old American ingenuity combined with practicality and making do with what was at hand:

” ’The fundamental problem of the year 1932 is the question of economic adjustment — in cooks’ terms, the problem of potatoes,’ Hibben wrote. ’But, although this is fundamental, so also is a balance between what we have and what we make of it.’ ” As the authors write, with characteristic perspicacity, “In other words, it was essential that our potatoes should be boiled, baked, or mashed to perfection. With food anxieties rising, there was something fundamentally reassuring in Hibben’s message. Food was to be enjoyed, and good foods were within our reach. ’Mink coats and period furniture are not always possible but at least we can have omelets that are soft and melting, and soups that are savory and even beans that are succulent and satisfying.’ While dieticians tended to our vitamin intake, Hibben was interested in the spirit-healing properties of humble food well prepared.”

But unfortunately, brightly though they shone, Sheila Hibben and her philosophy were an all too rare point of light in an era of dieticians and their ilk. Indeed, “A Square Meal” tracks the rise of home economics and its increasing dominance in the culture. It is unfortunate that perhaps the most enthusiastic adherent to its values was first lady Eleanor Roosevelt with her “appreciation for ’plain food, plainly cooked.’ Eleanor cared about food, not for how it tasted, but for what it represented.” So, of course, did Sheila Hibben, but there was an ocean of difference in those representations.

As Ms. Ziegelman and Mr. Coe write, “In home economics, Eleanor found a way of thinking about food that was consistent with her values. Built on self-denial, scientific cookery not only dismissed pleasure as nonessential but also treated it as an impediment to healthy eating.” So it is an understatement when we read that “Hibben must have been taken aback when she was summoned by Eleanor Roosevelt to advise on what to serve at the White House.” Although a few Hibben dishes made it to the Roosevelt table and the first lady seemed genuinely admiring of her outlook, “Caught between the two food initiatives, in the end Eleanor went with her progressive instincts and chose science over tradition.” Much to the dismay of her husband and guests at their table, whose condemnation of what they were fed was as fervent as it was universal. How ironic that had they seen the hearty meals served at the Federal Transient Camps described in these pages, they would have been green with envy and far more satisfied if they’d got to eat them instead.

In the end, I was struck by how much more telling this book’s title was than its subtitle. For what it affirms is the centrality of that square meal to American society and the remarkable thing about how our culture dealt with — and survived — the Great Depression was just how much ingenuity went into ensuring that so many ate so well when things were so bad. Amid all the privation and straitened circumstances detailed here, there was an astonishing number of square meals produced and consumed with gusto.

• Martin Rubin is a writer and critic in Pasadena, Calif.