1. The voice.
We recently were watching two of Vincent Price’s better films, The Great Mouse Detective (1986) and The Thief and the Cobbler (1995), and at some point realized we had forgotten about A Treasury of Great Recipes . It is the ornate, lavishly overproduced, somewhat strange and unequivocally good cookbook that he co-wrote with his second wife Mary in 1965. It turns out that they collaborated on a number of other books too, including Come Into the Kitchen , their celebration of American foodways, in 1969.
Of course, Price played delicious villains in both films. Ratigan, from The Great
Mouse Detective , owes more than a little to the Moriarty character as played by Nigel Bruce in the great Sherlock Holmes movies starring Basil Rathbone. In fact, Mouse Detective owes more to the Rathbone vehicles than to Conan Doyle; the ‘Holmes’ character even is called Basil of Baker Street. Price dominates the film; his voice drips easy evil and he sounds like he is having so much fun (it was, he said, his favorite role).
His role as ZigZag, the Grand Vizier in the undervalued Thief and Cobbler , which encountered unaccountably uncharitable reviews on release and promptly sank from public consciousness, is even better. He is the most whimsical (while also comfortingly villainous--this is Vincent Price after all) character in a hallucinatory musical cartoon that, belatedly, has acquired a modest cineaste cult.
The version released in American theaters during 1995 as Arabian Knight has proven controversial among film pedants, who revere its original producer. This edition was the synthesis of a 31-year production process, the longest gestation of any film in history. The project had been the obsession of Richard Williams, a legendary animator whose career was capped by Who Framed Roger Rabbit . Working versions of The Thief and the Cobbler have been known variously as Nasrudden , The Amazing Nasrudden , Nasrudden! , The Majestic Fool , The Thief Who Never Gave Up , Once… , along with Arabian Knight and, in the cut-down version released in Australia and South Africa, The Princess and the Cobbler .
Williams had believed that The Thief and the Cobbler rather than Roger Rabbit would be the capstone of his oeuvre, but after bouncing between a series of studios, the picture wound up with an entity called ‘The Completion Bond Company’ and then Miramax. They fired Williams in 1990 after he failed to complete the picture on schedule--a reasonably understandable move given his inability to finish it for 26 years. This fact alone, however, has ensured that admirers of Williams would vilify the Miramax product. Wikipedia, for example (but caveat emptor) is dismissive without offering a citation to its argument: “The end results have been compared to Saturday morning cartoons from Korea… the primary concern was to complete the film in as little time and for as little money as possible.” Williams’ son labeled it “more or less unwatchable.” ( Animation World )
They are unfair; Williams’ personal story is sad, but in fact The Thief and the Cobbler along with any number of other movies suffers not at all from its serial parentage, and it is more than arguable that the painful evolution of many films drastically improved them. The production of Gone with the Wind , for example, was foundering before Victor Fleming took over its direction from George Cukor. The production history of another classic, The Wizard of Oz , was altogether chaotic. Its first director was Richard Thorpe, who was followed by Cukor, fired again in favor of Fleming, who left the black and white Kansas scenes to King Vidor after leaving the set to salvage… Gone with the Wind .
In a May 2009 New Yorker article, David Denby makes a case for the genius of Fleming, who usually is neglected by movie nuts and film schools, as well as auteurs and their worshippers. Along with some predictably pious regret over Gone with the Wind’s obviously “enraging and embarrassing moments; the racist kitsch is, regrettably, part of the nation’s collective past,” Denby includes the best description in print of Scarlett O’Hara “as personified by [Vivian] Leigh--a selfish, greedy, flirtatious yet sex-hating, intractable green-eyed demon who is every inch and flounce a heroine.” ( New Yorker 72-73)
For undeterred purists, Roy Disney, whose company shoplifted a lot of Thief’s uncompleted visuals for the blander Aladdin , generously began editing Williams’ footage in an effort to reflect his original intent, but the project died when Disney left Disney in 2003. ( Animated Movie Guide 23-24) It was revived in 2006 by Williams’ animators and appears online at www.cartoonbrew.com as The Recobbled Cut.
The replacement producer of The Thief and the Cobbler , Fred Calvert, added many in the cast and much of the content that makes the movie so appealing. His additions include Jonathan Winters as the thief, a character who did not speak in the Williams version. The set must have been a madhouse when the actors assembled; it seems that Winters improvised most of his lines in a running stand-up routine and he just about steals the show. At the very least it is hard to imagine the film without him.
Calvert also added Jennifer Beals as Princess YumYum; Matthew Broderick as the cobbler; Eric Bogosian (Phido, a previously mute vulture who shares an uneasy alliance with ZigZag) and Toni Collette as both YumYum’s musclebound nanny and a wizened and deranged but holy old witch. A number of characters, including Price, remained constant.
Broderick does a particularly good turn in his standard ingénue role with more than his usual understatement in falling for Beals, whose YumYum is dead sexy (her animated body must have given censors the slip); the nobly eccentric and sadly late George Melly appears briefly as a dwarf; and the supporting cast of monsters, creepy soldiers and anthropomorphic animals adds raucous mayhem too.
Price had completed work on ZigZag by 1973 but it is considered his last role because Thief was not released until two years after he died. Alone among the film’s characters, ZigZag speaks only in verse, and the conceit gives Price the chance to enjoy himself even more than in Great Mouse Detective . He is by turns insinuating and exasperated, and plays with a broad vocal register. It really is a star turn.
There are lovely, even thrilling visual touches throughout the film; ZigZag’s long feet uncoil propulsively as he moves like a Don Martin character made kinetic by the beat of Price’s diction. The palace where much of the plot unfolds is a funhouse of psychedelic spatial distortions; there is reference to the sixties graphic icon Escher and to Yellow Submarine . The Evil One Eye’s arsenal of war machines and YumYum’s veils put their computer-generated descendants to shame.
The Thief and the Cobbler tracks a lot of plotlines for a cartoon. Price’s ingratiating but supercilious ZigZag tries to steal the kingdom by marrying YumYum. This ploy understandably vexes her narcoleptic father, King Nod, who regards his vizier with no little social disdain and refuses to grant him his daughter’s hand. The shy cobbler also inadvertently undercuts Zigzag’s plotting because his calmly kind demeanor attracts YumYum--to the vexation of Nanny.
A parallel line propels Winters’ smelly thief who always is orbited by flies; when he sees bubbles emanating from YumYum’s bath, along with quite a bit of YumYum, he notes that soap is something he has "heard about in story books and songs.” In a series of slapstick schemes involving high wires (“Rule number two - always wear underwear...or you'll attract a sizeable crowd”), pole vaulting, Icarus wings and other devices, the thief tries to steal three golden balls kept atop a spire to ‘protect’ the realm. ZigZag, however, appropriates the idea by appropriating the balls; his henchmen steal them in a plot to give the vizier ‘credit’ for retrieving them as a means to ‘save’ the kingdom, but One Eye, who lounges on a living throne of slave girls, launches an invasion in the meantime. ZigZag approaches One Eye with an eye to betraying Nod but the inscrutable invader regards him warily and ZigZag in turn is betrayed, to be eaten by his erstwhile allies, a seamlessly choreographed crew of amoral alligators.
YumYum conscripts the Brigands as her personal guard to help save the kingdom from One Eye. Long before she encountered them, these burly but bemused ruffians had been posted, then stranded, on the desert frontier because none of them could read their recall orders. Their endearing song-and-dance routine is a cautionary tale; “badada bing bang boody-oody bibbity boo, we’re what happen when you don’t finish school.” It all works out for them, the love interest and the thief in the end.
2. His life.
Unlike any of the characters in The Thief and the Cobbler , Price admired, ate, cooked, and chronicled British food. He also earned a degree in art history from Yale, studied at the Courtauld in London, served on the art faculty of USC and put these experiences to good use.
Price was a lifelong art collector and promoter (there was a line of paintings sold through Sears of all people) with a good eye for the emergent and offbeat as well as the conventional--as his fan base might expect. As with film and food, Price the collector was both populist and intellectual but no dilettante; he wrote or contributed to publications about American, Asian and Italian art, German Expressionism and Sioux painting, compiled a “visual autobiography” called I Like What I Know and wrote a regular arts column during the 1960s for the otherwise conservative and even prudish Chicago Tribune , including a spirited defense, “Why a furor over Nudity in Art?” (Price 250-51)
Price drew too (and constantly scribbled notes on anything to hand, including ticket stubs, boarding passes and scraps of paper) although he maintained that he “had no talent at all.” (Price 34) An undated self-portrait in middle age, however, does catch his character and mischevious charm.
He also was a selfless benefactor. Instead of giving pictures to an institution like Yale or the Metropolitan Museum of Art like so many donors seeking prestige and reflected glory, he turned down requests from UCLA and gave much of his collection to a community college in East LA. The college had invited Price to lecture students about the “Aesthetic Responsibilities of the Citizen;” on arrival he found himself “speaking in a Quonset hut on a mud flat.” (geocities.vprice 2) He was so moved by the response to his talk and the college’s lack of resources that he donated some 90 works of art to establish the first teaching collection at any community college in the country. Price returned to East LA regularly for openings, to lecture and to raise funds. By the time he died, Price and others had given East Los Angeles Junior College in Monterey Park, California, over 2000 artifacts worth millions of dollars. The Vincent Price Gallery there continues to mount what one website describes as “world-class exhibitions;” admission is free. (wikipedia_Price 4)
Price was complicated and there is a whiff of sadness about his life. He had three turbulent marriages and numerous liaisons, probably was bisexual, and suffered from bouts of depression. Sometimes he drank too much. (Price 183-84) His daughter writes that during the 1970s, Price “grew increasingly despondent about the state of his career. He was particularly sensitive to the fact that his friends and colleagues didn’t seem to respect his work….,” although Boris Karloff and Marcello Mastroianni both apparently admired it. (e.g. Price 275) “He worried that his work was taken less than seriously by his fellow actors; few of them went to see his films….” (Price 275) To be fair, Price was a bit of a huckster who did make some films for the money alone and who was happy to capitalize on his fame through ventures like the Sears contract.
Victoria Price describes “years of despair” during her father’s life that were relieved, at least to some extent, by the success of his one-man portrayal of Oscar Wilde in Delights and Diversions on a nationwide tour. To Price’s consternation, however, the play then bombed on Broadway before a successful revival at the off-Broadway Roundabout and an international tour. (Price 300-01)
Price claimed that his favorite lines are those of the devil from Shaw’s Don Juan in Hell :
“Is man any the less destroying himself for all this boasted brain of his? Have you walked up and down the earth lately, Don Juan? Well, I have. And I have examined man’s wonderful inventions, and I tell you that in the arts of Life, man invents nothing. But in the Arts of Death, he outdoes Nature herself and produces, by chemistry and machinery, all of the slaughter, of the plague, the pestilence, and the famine… I could give you a thousand instances, Don Juan, but they all come down to the same thing. The power that governs the earth is not of Life but of Death…. I know that beauty is good to look at, that music is good to hear, that love is good to feel. I know that to be well exercised in these emotions is to be a refined and cultivated being. And I also know, Don Juan, that whatever they say about me, the Devil, in churches on earth, it is universally conceded in good society that the Prince of Darkness is a gentle man.” (Price 276-77)
Shaw of course has become unfashionable, at least in the academic world, but we like him too.
Despite these inner doubts and demons, Price retained a loyal coterie of friends and fans that included David Hockney, Dennis Hopper, Karloff, Norman Lloyd, Roddy McDowell, Diana Rigg, Jane Russell and many others. Hopper, who threw pots and painted large abstract canvasses at Price’s studio (it included a kiln) in the 1960s, said that his “whole life would be enormously diminished without having met Vincent Price.” (Price 315) Toward the end of his life Price met Tim Burton and Johnny Depp on the set of Edward Scissorhands and they too became fast friends.
Price could be engaging or irascible by turns and had difficult relationships with his children but, as the East LA narrative shows, his instincts were good. Lloyd found “a decency about him no matter what you put him into.” (Price 275) Price overcame a youthful anti-Semitism (by way of somewhat lame excuses, he was raised in a decidedly provincial Missouri, adored German culture and spent time in the febrile atmosphere of prewar Vienna), and made it onto Joseph McCarthy’s farcical list of “Premature Anti-Nazi Sympathizers” along with Eleanor Roosevelt and others. (Price 94, 173) He invited gossip by openly socializing with gay friends in an intolerant age, supported civil rights and championed Native Americans before their cause was fashionable. It seems like he did nothing in moderation.
3. Price and food.
Price drilled full-bore into matters culinary, an interest that, in a certain way, ran in the family; its fortune stemmed from the “Dr. Price’s Baking Powder” and related cookbook that his father produced. Price himself was, characteristically, both serious and playful in his approach to food. He traveled the United States towing an Airstream to sample regional cuisines in a publicity stunt for the manufacturer. Price hosted a cooking show on television, threw lavish Hollywood dinner parties and famously steamed fish in a dishwasher on The Tonight Show . (Price 275) In serious mode, he also wrote or co-authored those books on food and wine in addition to his Tribune column. As noted, we are interested in two of the books at britishfoodinamerica; A Treasury of Great Recipes from 1965 and Come into the Kitchen: A Collector’s Treasury of America’s Great Recipes from 1969.
Unlike Come Into the Kitchen , A Treasury of Great Recipes includes some nods to the Price screen persona, but the few mildly ghoulish asides and a couple of campy photographs feel like afterthoughts inserted by a marketing department. They may, however, have originated with Price himself, who had his own wry knack for both publicity and self-mockery, along with a significant strain of self-doubt and, in common with Marlon Brando and Harrison Ford, a measure of disdain for his profession.
It is no original notion to admire the Treasury ; in October of 2009 it hit number one in sales of out of print cookbooks at the Advanced Book Exchange, and people are right to want it for both its voice and its instructions. The Treasury includes recipes from 35 American restaurants, including the Four Seasons, Galatoire’s and Locke-Ober (good choices then and now), eight European countries including England (and its frequent companion in culinary neglect, the Netherlands; four decades later Mark Bittman would omit both countries from his global survey of recipes); and several dozen of the Prices’ own preparations, which are utterly unpretentious. Two are for hot dogs, more than anything else because Price loved baseball: “No hot dog ever tastes as good as the ones at the ball park. It is a question of being just the right thing at the right time and place.” ( Great Recipes 399) One of his own favorites is an easy, improvised Senegalese based on canned cream of chicken soup. Basically, you add curry powder and put the Campbell’s in a blender with cream and crushed ice.
4. English food.
Price included England in the book because he liked working on the London stage, because Mary was British and because he liked the food. He realized that his choice of England was iconoclastic: “London does not have the reputation for fine dining that Paris does, and England in general suffers even more by comparison with France. But for my money both are grossly underrated.” ( Great Recipes 149)
That was not a conventional or popular view in 1965, before the advent of Elisabeth Ayrton and Jane Grigson or the revival of British dishes in British restaurants; as Price noted,
“Restaurants in London, as in any cosmopolitan center, reflect a broad cross section of international cuisines. The only country that is not so well represented is England itself. Try to find typical English dishes in a top flight London restaurant and you will be greeted by the maitre d’s iciest stare.” ( Great Recipes 150)
Price further noted with prescience that any place offering “an occasional British specialty did it “strictly as a sop to the tourist trade.” ( Great Recipes 150) British tastesetters despised their native cuisine as much as everybody else in the sixties.
So Price did us a service by reminding his American readers of a neglected tradition. From the quality and authenticity of his recipes, Price must have conducted diligent research. For example, he gets Welsh ‘rabbit’ right instead of calling it ‘rarebit’ and even notes the sequential development of uncertainty over the original name; a nice touch. We know that Price spoke with the proprietors and ate at a number of British restaurants, including The Ivy, but unfortunately, as with Come into the Kitchen , A Treasury of Great Recipes includes no bibliography and only scattershot attribution.
There are some forty British recipes (some of them include more than one preparation) and a primer for brewing a good pot of tea, along with a recipe for Caesar salad that appears from its introductory paragraph to have been placed in the ‘England’ section through an editing error. Price includes a sensible way to roast beef (not as common in cookbooks as a reader might think); potted shrimp properly made; soused mackerel, using a good acid foil to the oily fish (suitable for bluefish too); an easy salmon kedgeree; another characteristically British treatment for salmon from The Hole in the Wall (still going strong in Bath forty years after the Prices’ visit) stuffed with ginger and currants, then baked in pastry parcels for service with a delightful herb, mustard and lemon sauce (as Price notes, “… salmon can stand a fairly sharp sauce”); the fundamentally British but now widely neglected devil for beef ribs; boiled lamb with caper sauce, itself a preparation that deserves revival; Lancashire hotpot with kidneys; and the classic roast chicken with bacon and bread sauce. There is one mistake, an odd recipe for “Melton Mowbray Pork Pie” made with cooked veal and pork instead of raw pork; it also omits the essential anchovy as well as mace or allspice, both admittedly options, but ones we like (along with dry mustard). Otherwise, however, his choices ably represent the British tradition and are reliably tasty.
As its subtitle implies, Come into the Kitchen has less breadth than A Treasury of Great Recipes ; it also has considerably more depth. Its purpose is nothing less than the revival and promotion of traditional American foodways. Price therefore retained two historical researchers along with a wine consultant to work with him and Mary on the book. Historical documentation or reconstruction is not its primary concern, however; Come into the Kitchen is a practical guide to preparing food for eating on a regular basis. In her ‘Introduction,’ Helen Duprey Bullock (author of The Williamsburg Art of Cookery ) explains that:
“This offering of heritage recipes is neither a primer nor an encyclopedia of American cookery; it is rather a sampler of treasures from the past…. With such a wide variety of recipes to try which evoke an era or an ethnic tradition, preference has been given to foods which can be prepared and enjoyed today in the modern home, and to ingredients which are easily available.” ( Kitchen xiii)
The Prices group their recipes into six eras, from “Recipes of Early America” through the nineteenth century and into “Recipes of Modern America.” A two-page summary of background and sources introduces each section. There is some discussion of manuscript sources and early cookbooks, but to the extent that Come into the Kitchen addresses the past it is popular history rather than primary research or sophisticated analysis. It is, however, good popular history that does not just parrot received wisdom. For example, it was unusually rigorous during the 1960s in distinguishing Creole from Cajun cuisine. ( Kitchen xiii)
Our interest primarily is in the first two sections; there, Price has succeeded where others often failed in evoking the British ‘ethnic tradition’ in America. The preface to “Recipes of the Young Republic,” for example, describes the continuing cultural influence of Britain on the United States during the revolutionary and early national period. That influence was particularly strong on foodways:
“English cook books continued to pour from American presses. The Compleat Housewife , after its debut at Williamsburg in 1742, was published from New York in 1764. Susannah Carter’s The Frugal Housewife appeared in 1772 both in London and in Boston; the latter edition was graced by Paul Revere’s plates. Came the war; but in 1792 (and for another decade) the Carter anthology continued to help ex-colonials with their kitchen problems. The Art of Cookery by Hannah Glasse, the British edition of which had appeared when Washington was a teenager, reached the American scene in 1805. Maria Eliza Rundell’s A New System of Domestic Cookery went through 67 London editions and almost as many in America from 1806 to 1844.” ( Kitchen 44)
The selection of recipes and their adaptation from these and other sources is good. Price includes directions for making walnut ketchup (“catsup”); duck boiled with onions, a wonderful dish later also revived by Jane Grigson in English Food ; and even spiced beef. A lamb hotch potch is cooked, in characteristically British style, with lettuce and dried peas. Pea soup, the street food of Georgian London, makes an appearance, along with an adapted devil sauce for clams. A traditional preparation of oysters and sweetbreads is seasoned with mace, the quintessential British spice; a batter pudding (if Ronald Johnson’s American Table is an accurate indicator, these were particularly prevalent in British North America and the early republic) for chicken is included; potatoes are cooked with cream in a premonition of Elizabeth David; there are Bath buns and Sally Lunn; a chutney; maids of honor; syllabub; and trifle with custard.
5. Spiced beef.
How significant was all of this when Come into the Kitchen was published in 1969? The inclusion of the spiced beef, a dry cure of salt, sugar and spice, provides a signal example. According to David herself, this 300 year old tradition had all but disappeared from Britain by the middle of the twentieth century, although Jane Grigson notes in 1974 that it survived in Ireland, particularly at Christmastime, and britishfoodinamerica has found an English recipe that remained in print at least until 1949. (Sarson) Writing at some point in the 1960s, David claimed to have ‘rescued the dish from neglect’ by publishing her recipe in British Vogue during 1958; the master butcher at Harrod’s read the article and decided to pickle beef silverside (basically bottom round), for customers to cook at home during the Christmas season. ( Salt, Spices 74-75, 263) It would have remained unknown, however, to all but the very few Harrod’s customers with the inside information that enabled them to order it--a miniscule proportion of the British population.
Before conducting our own initially theoretical research last year, spiced beef was unknown here at britishfoodinamerica; our informal polls indicate that it remains utterly mysterious today and we have no American acquaintance who remembers the dish.
David notes that traditionally the cured beef was braised in a slow oven under cover of suet and sealed with inedible paste to keep it from drying but, writing sometime before 1970, she omits those steps and substitutes a seal of kitchen paper under a heavy lid. ( Spices, Salt 174) Price, however, is steadfastly old school: “In a large covered baking dish place the suet with the meat on top of it. Pour on the water [a scant cup; authentic too]. Seal the casserole with a strip of dough.” ( Kitchen 50) His recipe reflects rigorous scholarship; other American cookbooks from the sixties do not include recipes for spiced beef, let alone authentic ones.
What was Price’s source? He was chronicling American foodways, so the original imprint ought to have been American. It probably was; his recipe has another earmark of authenticity that initially appeared to us to be an oversight. British spiced beef recipes usually include juniper, but Price omits it from his cure. David observes that cooks outside of areas where the bushes grew wild, including Cumberland, Sussex, Wales and Yorkshire, also traditionally omitted juniper until her revival of the recipe: “The presence of juniper berries among the pickling spices makes the recipe somewhat unusual.” ( Spices, Salt 173)
If the attributes of Price’s recipe point to authenticity, they still do not reveal its source. Neither the notations made between 1749 and 1799 assembled by Karen Hess as Martha Washington’s Booke of Cookery nor Amelia Simmons’ American Cookery from 1796 , ‘the first American cookbook’ according to Dover publications, includes a recipe for spiced beef. No such instructions appear in The Carolina Housewife by Sarah Rutledge (1847) either.
Instructions “To Dry Beef for Summer Use” and “To Corn Beef in Hot Weather” do appear in The Virginia House-Wife from 1824 (also called “[t]he first truly American cookbook” by Dover), but they omit spices altogether. We can rule out the recipe for cured beef from the 1839 Kentucky Housewife : It omits the berry too, but boils the beef immediately after salting and spicing rather than allowing it to steep in the mixture, which unlike Price’s includes “cloves, cinnamon and nutmegs and cayenne pepper” in addition to his allspice; also unlike Price, it adds molasses to the sugar and smokes rather than braises the meat--because the Kentucky version was meant for summer preservation rather than Christmas feasting. ( Kentucky 30)
In Southern Food , however, John Egerton makes tantalizing reference to “an old Nashville cookbook” that includes a recipe for a dry cured “spiced round.” Unfortunately Egerton neither identifies his source nor includes anything from Nashville in his bibliography. As reproduced by Egerton, the recipe itself points to English antecedents. It uses a cure based on salt, brown sugar and saltpeter that is seasoned with allspice, cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg and black pepper. Like Price, Egerton also specifies cooking the cured meat with fat, in his case either suet or, in a departure from English practice, pork fat. Readers are invited to identify Price’s source for spiced beef; britishfoodinamerica will be happy to recognize their research.
Incidentally, Price also passes the test with his recipe for Senegalese soup from Come into the Kitchen : It includes an evolved, or perhaps devolved, version of the simple soup made from scratch as opposed to the convenient version that relies on canned cream of chicken outlined in A Treasury of Great Recipes , because, it seems, authenticity trumps convenience in the former book.
To embellish Come into the Kitchen , Price commissioned Nicholas Amorosi to make line drawings of old cooking implements, and Charles Wysocki to create “decorative color illustrations,” in this case those endearing spindly and timebound drawings from the sixties that were an intended evocation of folk art.
Justly recognized for the verve of his acting, the perspicacity of his eye and the range of his charitable causes from ‘Meals on Wheels’ to the otherwise obscure community college that he befriended, Price also deserves recognition for his work to preserve the traditional foodways of Britain and early America.
Several variations on spiced beef appear in the practical .
Jerry Beck, “The Thief and the Cobbler,” The Animated Movie Guide (Chicago 2005)
Mark Bittman, The Best Recipes in the World (New York 2005)
Lettice Bryan, The Kentucky Housewife (Cincinnati 1839)
Elizabeth David, Spices, Salt and Aromatics in the English Kitchen (London 1970)
David Denby, “The Real Rhett Butler,” The New Yorker (25 May 2009)
John Egerton, Southern Food: at home, on the road, in history (Chapel Hill 1993)
Jane Grigson, English Food (London 1974)
Karen Hess (Ed./transcriber), Martha Washington’s Booke of Cookery (New York 1981)
Ronald Johnson, The American Table (Weston, CT 1984)
Mary and Vincent Price, A Treasury of Great Recipes (Port Townsend, Washington
Come into the Kitchen: A Collector’s Treasury of America’s Great Recipes (New York 1969)
Victoria Price, Vincent Price: A Daughter’s Biography (New York 1999)
Mary Randolph, The Virginia House-Wife Or, Methodical Cook (Washington, DC, 1824)
Sarah Rutledge, The Carolina Housewife (Charleston 1847)
Henry Sarson, Home Pickling (London 1949)
G.B. Shaw, “Don Juan in Hell,” from Man and Superman (New York 2006)
Amelia Simmons, American Cookery (1796: OUP facsimile from 1958)
Alexander Williams, “The Thief and the Cobbler,” Animation World Magazine (March 1997)