Food for Thinkers: A Few Good Menus

When GOOD food editor, Nicola Twilley, called upon various bloggers to discuss food writing, it forced me to stop and think more about the things I choose to write about. Usually it's as simple as finding interesting materials in my day-to-day job as a librarian and wanting to share those stories and objects with others. But on deeper reflection, the books and documents I work with often tap into different way of seeing social history and material culture. For example:

Let’s say you want to try a new restaurant in New York City. There are many ways to find one to your liking.

Perhaps you’ve read about some promising places on a few restaurant blogs, and maybe you scan the Sifty Fifty iPhone application for recommendations from Sam Sifton, the New York Times restaurant critic. Yelp provides helpful user recommendations, Menu Pages allows you to look over the menu in advance, and Open Table is there to put in your reservation.

Isn’t it funny then, that when you finally sit down at the restaurant of your choosing, you’re given a piece of paper.

In a world where one could very easily go through a day reading only off a screen, the restaurant menu may well be one of the few documents regularly and preferably distributed in print. In fact, one could argue that the menu, rather quaintly, is one of the last hold-outs of a thriving print culture. Sure, you can look up the menu online, but most still expect a physical document upon seating.

Chicago Great Western, 1900, NYPL Rare Books Division

Menus are ephemeral. They are used to convey information and when that information is no longer relevant, the item is often disposed of.  The asparagus appetizer in April may not be available in August. The chocolate mousse from October 1st is not offered on October 31st.

However, like many pieces of ephemera, a menu's informational value rarely stems from its original, intended use. And that, for me, is where things get interesting.

At their most basic, menus tell us about a place or event and what was served. But dig a little deeper, and one can often find out how much a dish cost, on what date the meal was served, and who was in attendance.

Dig a little deeper still -- perhaps with the help of old newspapers or a biography -- and wider contexts and connections are made. For example, the 1908 menu below celebrates the accomplishments of Harvey Washington Wiley, the chief chemist for the Department of Agriculture, a crusader for pure food, and the "Father of the Pure Food and Drug Act" of 1906. And while on first glance, the menu resembles many other "testimonial" dinner menus, further study show annotations explaining the chemical make-up of many of the dishes, a clever way of demonstrating the very labeling Wiley campaigned for.

Dinner for H.W. Wiley, 1908, NYPL Rare Books Division

Or that the menu of Restaurant Florent, which resided in what was once a gritty New York neighborhood, advertised a separate children's menu, a gesture hinting at a fast-changing neighborhood and the need to cater to that new clientele. 

Or that when President McKinley was assassinated in 1901, his fellow Ohioans at the Gifford House demonstrated their grief by printing a daily bill of fare on black paper.

Gibson House, NYPL Rare Book Division

Or that a popular, "see-and-be-seen" restaurant in New York's West Village has, at its roots, tuna fish salad with a side of potato chips.

Ye Waverly Inn, NYPL Rare Book Division

For historians, graphic designers, food enthusiasts, and chefs, menus are a sometimes overlooked source for inspiration and information, and can provide researchers with valuable insight into our social history in a way few other texts can do. I write about the food and menus and restaurants as a way of seeing the small details of history and celebrating the rich print culture they inhabit. On a very practical level, I am fortunate to have a job which not only allows but encourages exploration and research. The only thing more rewarding than that, is the charge to keep it up and share what I learn.

So, the next time you're sitting at a restaurant -- any restaurant -- look for the potential informational value in the menu. And then order some food. You must hungry by now.

Food for Thinkers is a is a week-long, distributed, online conversation looking at food-writing from as wide and unusual a variety of perspectives as possible. Check it out. 

God Serve the Queen

Queen Elizabeth II's first state visit to the United States took place in October, 1957. After a few days in Canada, she and Prince Philip met with President Eisenhower in Washington, D.C., watched a football game in Maryland (with a brief detour to a grocery store), and then wrapped up their trip in New York City, where the royal couple stayed for a mere fifteen hours: "A teaser" remarked the Queen. (Indeed!)

The dinner given to the Queen and Prince on their final night took place -- as lunch also did -- at the Waldorf-Astoria. The menus from both meals are included in the Library's holdings.  The dinner menu is especially intriguing, but not because the food offerings are unusual ("American simplicity" is what the New York Times called it), but because of the memo found inside.

Type-written on thin white paper and folded in half, General Instructions for Waiters (below) provides a rare glimpse from the other side of the swinging door.  And while the instructions don't reveal anything juicy or even anything terribly interesting (politeness and courtesy are emphasized, cigarettes will be at the tables, candles stay on all night), finding a menu from a worker's point-of-view is unusual, especially for such a high-profile dinner.  I also like to imagine how these instructions came to the Library. Did a waiter keep a menu as a souvenir, tucking the memo inside? Who thought to preserve such an ephemeral document? Whoever it was, I'm glad he/she did; these are the very types of items libraries treasure, as they offer evidence of an event largely, if not completely, undocumented elsewhere. These instructions provide us with more of a complete story of the event -- not just that the Queen ate green turtle soup, but that it was a served in plates with fines herbes -- and it reminds us of those who shuttle in and out of the dining room all night, carrying  filet of beef Perigourdine, savarin au rhum, and butter -- but only on request, of course.

The Queen's Trip to an American Supermarket

(photo by s.alt via flickr)

On October 19, 1957, in West Hyattsville, MD, Queen Elizabeth II and Prince Philip paid an unexpected visit to a local supermarket, their first to any American grocery store. The New York Times reported that the royal couple turned into the appropriately named Queenstown shopping mall on the way home from a football game at College Park and wandered into a "giant food store. " The Queen, escorted by the store's manager, looked over the vegetables, "then moved to the dairy food counters where methods of keeping the food chilled were explained."  She was, apparently, also intrigued by the meat counter: "The Queen seemed especially interested in chicken wrapped in transparent plastic and looked hard at a large counter filled with steak." Meanwhile, Prince Philip wandered around the store, eating cheese and crackers.

Next: The Queen's dinner at the Waldorf-Astoria, and the menu left behind.