The Apron Book: Making, Wearing, and Sharing a Bit of Cloth and Comfort
by EllynAnne Geisel (Andrews McMeel, $16.95, 0740761811, September 2006)
"Wearing an apron is just good sense . . . It's your armor against the
splatter. It's your oven mitt, ingredient gatherer, jar opener,
dishrag, counter wiper, window defogger and smoke swatter." EllynAnne
Geisel's cheery book pays tribute to the homey aprons of our
grandmothers, the fancier ones moms used for company, holiday aprons,
housework aprons, barbecue aprons and others. For a later generation of
women, "the apron was a relic of values and a lifestyle that no longer
applied," and many of those women tossed the garments out. But aprons
have made a comeback, along with sewing and crafting, and women who
hadn't saved family aprons are now combing thrift stores for them.
The author describes in great detail how to construct an apron,
assuming that the reader is a rank amateur, even explaining what "right
side up" means for fabric. This is not overkill for people new to
sewing or those with a sad sewing history (the bib apron pattern
enclosed with the book brought back memories of home ec class
humiliations, although apron-making was snap compared to zipper
installation). Spread throughout the book is a feature called "Every
Apron Tells a Story," with people's reminiscences about and photos of
beloved aprons, including a paean to ironing that almost makes you want
to sprinkle clothes again. One woman's story about her father's
barbecue apron includes his sauce recipe; another's features Coke and
Cherry Jell-O Salad. Harold Sasaki remembers his grandmother, whose
apron was her purse: "She wore it all the time. It was quite plain,
full-length, with crossed straps in the back and front pockets, which
always held Bull Durham tobacco, cigarette paper, and matches. She
rolled her own cigarettes, so her fingers were stained brown from the
tobacco--not exactly a ladylike image, but she smoked like a lady,
taking tiny puffs of her cigarette." Jean Rather's grandmother ran a
country store in Texas and carried penny candies in her apron pockets
to give to laborers' children.
Filled with recipes, household hints, patterns and above all, a
multitude of charming aprons, this is a book that warms the heart and
kindles memories.
The Apron Book also has one of the sunniest,
prettiest covers around, and in the dark days of winter deserves to be
displayed in the kitchen for its healing properties alone.
Talking with My Mouth Full: Crab Cakes, Bundt Cakes, and Other Kitchen
Stories by Bonny Wolf (St. Martin's, $24.95, 031235357X, October 31,
2006)
Bonny Wolf is an apron fan and can't go into the kitchen without hers,
saying that for her, wearing an apron has always been empowering; the
secondary dictionary definition is "protective shield," and she feels
incomplete without donning hers. Like EllynAnne Geisel, she has a
cherry Jell-O recipe, but it's a dessert made with red wine. Her
chapter on this jiggly food highlights her witty style: "There's no way
of knowing how long the Jell-O renaissance will hold its shape. Like
all culinary trends, it may dissolve at any time. It will, however,
probably come back. Whether it's nouveau or retro, there's always room
for Jell-O."
After carefully collecting recipes in a binder, then stashing recipes
in between the covers, Wolf had to move the entire collection to a bag.
Deciding finally to sift through the bag, organizing and culling, she
"found the story of [her] life," and a rich, friend- and family-filled
life it is. It's also, in a way, the story of American food--German,
Mexican, Hungarian, Chinese, Italian and all the amalgams that make up
our culinary heritage. Every chapter has at least one
recipe--Oven-Roasted Ratatouille, Real Texas Chili, Stephanie's Fried
Chicken (a two-apron affair), Ann's Chocolate Sauce--that will have you
amending your shopping list. And every chapter is a delectable
mini-memoir, with opinions: "New Jersey is perfect in at least one way.
You can get breakfast all day almost anywhere . . . for me, the
required ingredients are bacon, eggs, and starch." A woman after my own
heart, and stomach.
The chapter on family recipes makes you realize what has been lost with
the profusion of cookbooks today--the treasured few cookbooks of mom
and grandma were filled with notes in the margins and additional
recipes written in cherished penmanship, in the days when one or two
cookbooks was all that was needed. In "An Ode to Toast," it's
gratifying to read that M.F.K Fisher was fond of milk toast (toasted
bread in a bowl with warm milk, butter, salt and pepper), which my
grandmother prescribed for any out-of-sortedness. Wolf says, "There is
an innocence and purity about toast that you turn to in times of need.
You smell toast and you feel better. Let it snow. Let it get dark at
4:30. You're in a warm house, wearing fuzzy slippers and a warm
nightgown, and you're making toast. If you're really lucky, you have a
shaker filled with cinnamon and sugar." A recipe for contentment:
toast, butter, a soft apron, strong coffee, maybe a warm cat--and this
satisfying book for a companion.--Marilyn Dahl