"The Food of a Younger Land" by Mark Kurlansky

Such is the siren’s call of Mark Kurlansky’s new foodie-phile tome The Food of a Younger Land.

 

Yet, the book is not Kurlansky’s creation per se, but a well-edited collection of essays written in the 1930’s as a government-sponsored New Deal exploration of the U.S.A.’s varied culinary landscape. This lost Works Progress Administration effort was originally intended to be published under the title America Eats, but it never made its way into our literary history, being pushed aside by WWII and war-focused writing endeavors.

 

Needless to say, I can’t help but applaud Kurlansky’s initiative in bringing these mouthwatering yesteryear snapshots of American cookery to light. 

 

Beloved specialties and foodstuffs are spotlighted state-by-state, providing a long-forgotten picture of U.S. dining, before we ate fast-food hamburgers, ordered in national chain pizza pies and microwaved pre-packaged frozen dinners. Moreover, it was a period in time before our network of national highways blurred the line between the states, as well as regional traditions and idiosyncrasies.  

 

One might be tempted to call it a “simpler way of life,” but when it comes to food, nothing could have been farther from the truth. If this book proves anything, it’s that American food used to boast a rich and diverse menu that changed dramatically from sea to shining sea. Distinctive local fare and unique community feasts inspired intense devotion and pride. Even neighboring states could find themselves ensnared in fierce battle over the original creation of a popular dish or the slightest recipe differences. 

 

And if you think the notion of a heated conflict over Rhode Island Clam Chowder versus Long Island Clam Chowder is ridiculous and antiquated, you need only to look as far as at the corner of Passyunk Avenue and Ninth Street in modern day Philadelphia -- The City of Brotherly Love -- to see nightly smack-downs between Geno’s and Pat’s cheesesteak sandwich fans.

 

Which brings me to a powerful longing that took hold after I finished The Food of a Younger Land.   It was unavoidable. After reading all of those earnest, lip-smacking stories about Mississippi Hoecakes, Arkansas Cherry Bounce, Arizona Hopi Piki Bread and Montana Fried Beaver Tail, I became desperately curious about whether or not these historic eats are still readily available in their home states. (Well, maybe not the Montana Fried Beaver Tail, but nevertheless...) 

 

In the end, I couldn’t help but think that Kurlansky might just a big cook-tease, confronting readers with tales of Alabama Candy Pulls and Minnesota Booya Picnics, never to let us know whether or not remnants of these and other culinary customs continue to thrive -- just waiting for us to join in the chow-down. 

 

That said, it is certainly possible that Kurlansky wasn’t remiss in his duties. Perhaps all that is left of these historic foodstuffs exists within the pages of The Food of a Younger Land. If so, one can only be grateful for its hardbound existence.

 

But, if you do decide to pick up a copy, a word to the wise: This is a hunger-inducing anthology. Eating heartily is highly recommended before you crack open the cover. And, to stave off an overwhelming appetite, it’s best to steadfastly keep it on your nightstand, consuming its pages a nibble at a time. No need to devour it in one ravenous gulp. At its finest, The Food of a Younger Land is a volume to savor at a leisurely pace.