It's BadMINTON!

I've blogged quite a bit about the work involved in keeping a June-like life, but have yet to spend much time on leisure activities of the 1950's. While watching yet another episode of Father Knows Best, my interest was piqued when the episode centered around whether or not Jim was too old to play badminton. Eventually, he and Margaret skip off (in a very youthful fashion, I might add) to play badminton with another couple for the evening.

I guess it's not much different than couples playing tennis together today, but it was just funny to me because I haven't played badminton since tenth grade gym class. And also...I thought it was "badmitten"...like fingerless gloves. Seriously, I figured out I was wrong for the first time today when I tried to type "badmitten" into Google search and all the results came up for "badminton." I guess they're wrong when they say computers will never be as smart as humans.

Anyway, badminton to me, seems just a little "cuter" version of tennis. Obviously, there are the logistical differences of a shuttlecock being used instead of a ball, and the court being a bit different, but it seems similar enough. I, not being particularly adept at tennis, am actually very interested in trying out badminton (for the second time ever) sometime soon.

Before I get ahead of myself, I think it's best to consult the expert on all things, Amy Vanderbilt on the topic at hand.

A sociologist or psychiatrist could glean considerable information about any [badminton] player's personality defects by watching his behavior on the court. In this game, the man stands revealed, even in a game of mixed doubles. He has plenty of room in which to throw a tantrum or his racket, lots of space to yell and hurl taunts at his opponent, many opportunities to cheat when there is no referee and his word as a sportsman and gentleman decides whether the shuttlecock is in or out (p. 163).

Now that gives us lots to look forward to, doesn't it? It sounds very similar to what I imagine will be my son and his peers interacting in about another year or so. Nevertheless, Margaret Anderson did look so snappy in her cute little badminton outfit - maybe I'll still give it a go!

No Rest for the Weary Wife

The time has come...to say goodbye...to a favorite ritual of mine.

The daily nap.

My son has recently switched from two naps to one and it has not been a very easy transition! He's doing fine now, but there were a few days last week where my husband couldn't get home from work soon enough because I was exhausted and my poor little non-napper was, too. Finally, I figured out it was a combination of being ready to switch to one nap a day, and the dreaded teething once again.

However, when I say farewell to the siesta, it's not his I'm talking about. Hopefully he'll keep that up until he's 3 or 4! It's, well...my own nap I'm having trouble parting with!

Go ahead, judge away - but it's tiring chasing a 13 month old, and keeping non-edible items out of his mouth, and getting your finger bitten several times a day, and on and on! I get up at 6 and on good nights get to bed around 10:30 - it's been so lovely to have a nap almost any day I want one.

But this 50's housewife life is a work in progress - and as I progress...or start to see less progress than I would like - I see it's probably only going to improve if I'm willing to part with my beloved nap. I couldn't even find time to make my mincemeat yet and that post was well over a week ago! If I'm going to do this, I'm going to do it all the way.

Wish me luck - and better wish my husband luck, too! I can imagine I'll be far less pleasant to be around sans-nap. If things get too out of control, Amy Vanderbilt has this advice:

A tired mother needing a bath and a nap might employ a baby-sitter to watch the baby in the playpen, sandbox, or nursery (p. 321).

Well, at least it's comforting to know that 50's housewives weren't robots after all...they got tired, too. That makes me feel at least a little better about life!

The Mystery of Mincemeat

Today, I have decided to embark on another 50's food adventure, this time from Successful Entertaining at Home. I will be making...mincemeat.

I have heard the expression "I'll make mincemeat out of you," and I have even heard of mincemeat pie, but I have no idea what mincemeat is actually comprised of (I fail to believe it is actually comprised of a person you have a beef with - pun intended).

Further research (aka typing "mincemeat" into the search box on Allrecipes.com) led me to the conclusion that there is actually meat in mincemeat. Well, huh. This leaves me with only one logical question: Who would want to eat a pie made of meat? I'm told it used to be quite common. Well, as has become my custom, I will say only this: this should be interesting.

Page 172 of my beloved 50's entertaining book suggests cooking mincemeat in a brandy sauce and serving it over vanilla ice cream.

Mincemeat Brandy Sauce

mincemeat

brandy

Put the desired amount of mincemeat for your sauce in a chafing dish, pouring enough brandy over it for flaming just before you serve it on vanilla ice cream. The brandy is lighted and when the flame dies down the sauce is spooned over the vanilla ice cream which has already been dished into the silver goblets.

This is a very attractive service one's guests will enjoy watching, and it is just as pretty when the ice cream is scooped up from a large crystal or silver bowl, to be served by the hostess on flat crystal plates and topped by the sauce from the chafing dish.

This all sounds great, but I still don't know how to make mincemeat. I suppose I will use the recipe from Allrecipes.com which can be found at:

http://allrecipes.com/Recipe/Blue-Ribbon-Mincemeat-Pie-Filling/Detail.aspx

The problem is, this mincemeat recipe makes THIRTY TWO whopping servings of the stuff, and I know it's going to be a hard sell to get my husband to try one bite. My plan is to pare down the recipe to 4 servings and serve it over vanilla ice cream (not sure if I will attempt the flambe or not!). If he starts to complain, I'll just pour a little extra brandy on top...or in a glass on the side!

I'll let you know how the mincemeat goes tonight once we've tried it for dessert. Consider this part one of the mincemeat blog. And just think: part 2 might include a rant from my husband about why 50's foods are not so commonplace anymore! Get excited!

The Lost Art of Asking

There are many things about the 1950's that I love, as you may have gathered from my previous posts. Although I haven't attained "June status" yet as a housewife, I am doing my best every day, researching and putting to use what I have learned as best I possibly can...while living in 2011. The more I learn about the fabulous 50's, the more I love about them. Sure, things weren't perfect then, and I don't expect they will ever be this side of heaven, but it seems that there was a greater sense of propriety and a shared societal understanding of what is and what is not appropriate behavior back then.

So I guess that's why I am more than just a little bit baffled that roughly 60 years later, some things have gone completely out the window.

For example, this past weekend I was fortunate enough to be able to take a "girls weekend" away to visit my best friend in Wilmington, North Carolina. We had a ball - went to the beach every day, out for nice meals, antiquing, and had plenty of great conversations. Saturday night after dinner, she wanted to take me to a rooftop bar where she and her friends often like to go. The place was great - it had a beautiful view of the city, it wasn't too crowded, and the dj was playing music I actually like. My best friend and a couple of other girls she knows were just doing our thing, having fun on the dance floor when out of nowhere my friend looks at me like a deer in headlights because she sees what's coming and I clearly don't. Some random dude has come up behind me and tries to start dancing with me (or some version of that) without even a) asking me or b) facing me.

I whip around just as this bonehead's arm is about to secure itself around my waist and promptly say: "Hi, although I really appreciate you taking the time to ask me if I want to dance, I'm hanging out with my friends. And by the way, I'm married." To which my friend added, "AND she has a baby!!" HA. That ought to do it! And with that, the rejected gentleman (and that's using the term loosely, believe me) disappeared into the crowd.

Just as we were getting back to getting our groove on, three more guys came over to us and said: "We just saw you tell those other guys you didn't want to dance with them, but..." And in my head I'm like "But what? You think you're different or special or better looking than they were?" I politely (as possible) pointed to the single ladies and went to the bar to get a drink. Momentarily, I was left to my own thoughts waiting for the bartender's attention and I couldn't help but wonder...how did we get here?!

According to Amy Vanderbilt, in the 50's, there were dance cards - not only did gentlemen ask the ladies if they would care for a dance, they basically scheduled the dances in advance! Oh, how sweet those days must have been! In the 50's (or at least at card-dance), no female was essentially danced upon unwillingly by a man with absolutely zero manners. And if a woman was asked for a dance by a man she didn't care to dance with, she had a choice in the matter - she had the option of politely refusing his polite request.

No lady need dance with anyone if for some reason she doesn't care to. But she must always be polite in her refusal (p. 218, Guide to Gracious Living).

You see the distinction? What Ms. Vanderbilt is suggesting is that there is never a place for rude behavior or speech. A woman is not a senseless object to be used however a man sees fit - most of all when the man doesn't even know the woman, or care to know her, as can only be assumed by the essential "hostage taking" that happens on dance floors in clubs today. I realize I may be coming across as prude, but I don't think women have to share my love of the 50's to share the opinion that men's dance club behavior has become an absolute abhorrence.

There were, of course, dames of the 50's who had to avoid their own awkward dance floor moments:

Girls, of course, get stuck too during interminable dances when no one asks to cut in. When no relief seems in sight either partner can suggest leaving the floor, usually under the pretext that there are too many couples dancing, that a drink, or a talk, or a walk in the air might be more fun (p. 218).

Ah, if only it were that simple again! To have the worst problem a girl could face on the dance floor be "getting stuck in an interminable dance." I do wonder how shocked women who had full dance cards in the 50's would be to see the hideous mess that has become of dancing in our society today. Because let's be honest...seeing a woman literally man-handled is shocking no matter what generation you grew up in. At least, it should be. Women nowadays put up with too much and ask for too little in return, if you ask me. I hope my son will grow up to be a gentleman and if I ever have a daughter...well, she's not leaving the house until she's 40!!!