Charles Dickens in Boston

1842 & 1925

Charles Dickens was enthusiastically fêted when he visited the United States in 1842 and 1867-68.  For many years afterward, these grand affairs lingered in the collective memory of the novelist’s most ardent admirers, as revealed by a menu from a dinner of the Dickens’ Fellowship in Boston in 1925.

In the Good Old Summertime

Wilmington, Delaware

1911

This postcard marks the second day of a trapshooting competition at the DuPont Gun Club on July 11, 1911. The recreational club had been established the previous year on the grounds of the Experimental Station of the DuPont Company that was then in the business of manufacturing gunpowder. Interestingly, the card includes the lunch menu—fried chicken, potato salad, and ice cream. The scene recalls the song “In the Good Old Summertime,” a popular tune of the era when life was seemingly less complicated.  

Economic Precarity

1864-1938 

One of the underlying themes of American ephemera is the expansion of the middle and upper classes. Over time, higher incomes and increased leisure time fostered a culture of consumption and new social customs like eating outside the home. Not surprisingly, menus become increasingly scarce as you descend the economic ladder. By the time you reach the lower classes and those living in poverty, such material evidence is practically nonexistent. Nevertheless, menus and photographs occasionally surface that reflect segments of the population being pushed from a livable life, often by a financial crisis or war.

Om Shanti

Los Angeles, 

1971 

The front of this large menu from 1971 features the word “om” in Devanagari script. Underneath is a description of this sacred sound in Indian religions that ends with the mantra “om shanti,” meaning peace. Since the name of the restaurant is not shown on the cover, the menu is sometimes thought to have originated from a place called Om Shanti. It actually comes from a Los Angeles vegetarian restaurant named H.E.L.P., an acronym for health, education, love, and peace. The menu marks the moment in culinary history when vegetarianism began to enter into the mainstream of American life.

What is this, Gluckstern’s?

New York City, 

1948 

The Dairy Restaurant is a fascinating new book by writer and cartoonist Ben Katchor. Jewish dairy restaurants attracted patrons who followed the dietary laws that forbid the mingling of meat and any milk-based product, and those who simply yearned for the comforting dishes of Eastern European Jewish cuisine, such as borscht, salmon, potato latkes, blintzes, and kreplach (small dumplings filled with cheese).1 These eateries have now almost completely vanished, barely leaving a trace. The lack of primary source material prompted me to take a fresh look at menus in my collection from Jewish restaurants of all kinds. Two in particular caught my attention. The menus came from Gluckstern’s and Isaac Gellis, kosher meat restaurants located on opposite ends of Manhattan. They were saved in 1948 by an anonymous couple who marked the dishes they ordered with X’s or O’s. The simple notations evoked a reminiscent feeling similar to what one reviewer described as Katchor’s “melancholy yiddishkeit,” recalling bygone eating places that were once a part of everyday life.

A Sunday Dinner

New York City, 

1882 

Menus are generally the only documents that speak to how people dined outside the home in the nineteenth century. Yet, it is nearly impossible to get a visceral sense of a list of dishes from a bygone era, especially when it is removed by more than a hundred years of radical changes. On rare occasions, patrons marked the dishes they ordered, thereby enriching the historical evidence. An annotated menu from the Grand Central Hotel in New York provides a case in point, showing what two guests ordered for dinner on Sunday evening, February 12, 1882. The anonymous diners, identified simply as “A” and “E,” understood the nuances of the menu and took full advantage of the opportunity. 

Plenty Sight-seeing!

Savannah, Georgia 

1896-1907 

The message inscribed on the back of this postcard from the De Soto Hotel in Savannah, Georgia closes with the exclamation, “Plenty sight-seeing!” Unfortunately, the guest did not mention what he or she had seen in 1907 that prompted the enthusiasm. Tourist sights change over time based on the evolving interests of visitors. A menu from this hotel provides a clue, revealing at least one of the local attractions at the turn of the last century. 

Artistic License

Washington, D.C., 

1859 

One of the last glittering events of the antebellum era occurred in February of 1859 when a ball was held for British ambassador Francis Napier and his wife.1 The ballroom at Willards’ Hotel was festooned with flags and adorned with portraits of George Washington and Queen Victoria for the occasion. At midnight, a curtain was raised to reveal the adjoining dining room where buffet tables were laden with delicacies and decorated with ornate sugar sculptures. Despite the sumptuous display however, there was some question about the quality of the cuisine, at least according to the correspondent from the New York Times who reported it was “an intolerably bad supper.” For journalists who wanted to hail the ball as a triumph, describing the problematic supper would require a fair amount of artistic license. Americans had become sensitive to the negative perception held by many Europeans about the eating habits in the United States. The Washington Evening Star put a positive spin on this gastronomic inferiority complex, reporting “the supper and wines were upon a scale of magnificence…rarely seen at such an entertainment on this side of the Atlantic.” Another publication employed so much hyperbole that it unwittingly articulated a new way to define the national cuisine. 

President Harrison’s Great Railroad Journey

The South and West 

April 14 – May 15, 1891 

In the spring of 1891, two years after being in office, President Benjamin Harrison embarked on a month-long political tour by rail through the South to the West Coast.1, 2 He was accompanied by First Lady Caroline Harrison, their daughter Mrs. Mary McKee, Postmaster General John Wanamaker, Secretary of Agriculture Jeremiah Rusk, and eleven other close officials and family members.3 Thirty-one menus from the train convey the length and rhythm of this unprecedented journey through numerous states, some of which had only recently entered the Union.4 

“Bet-a-Million” Gates

New York City, 

1905 

John W. Gates (1855-1911) was a steel magnate, financier, and gambler. He became widely known as “Bet-a-Million” Gates after falsely claiming to have bet a million dollars on a horse race in England. Nevertheless, he did gamble large amounts and would bet on practically everything. From 1894 onwards, Gates maintained a suite at the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel where he conducted high-stakes poker parties and baccarat games. A hotel account book shows that the storied capitalist and his wife were in residence on Christmas in 1905 when they hosted two dinners. Oddly, the cost of the meals was not recorded.