World's Fare II

One of my favorite buildings at the Fair was the Schaefer Center, because, well, just look at it.

Besides its enormous circular bar, The Schaefer Center featured a restaurant that served rather run-of-the-mill cuisine (it's quite surprising how mundane the tastes of Fair goers seem today).

But to celebrate the opening of the Center, her employees were treated to a thank you dinner on May 16, 1939.  The menu from that occasion is preserved in the New York Public Library's collection.

All of the courses served were made, according to the menu, with Schaefer Beer as an ingredient.  Including the dessert, frozen beer pie.

Well, guess what?  The recipe for the pie is given in Crosby Gaige's Food at the Fair.  It was, according to Gaige, a contest-winning recipe submitted by an employee.  It is doubtful that it ever actually found its way onto the regular menu, though.  So of course I had to try it.  As part of a Fair-themed dinner party which I threw for myself for my birthday in February.

It wasn't bad.  It wasn't good, mind you, but it wasn't bad.  It tasted like a custard pie made out of, well, beer.  The recipe is below, should you care to give it a shot.  (Tomorrow we're making Canadian Cheese Soup with Schaefer Beer.)

Beer Frozen Chiffon Pie (Schaefer Center)

3 egg yolks                                       1 tablespoon gelatine
6 tablespoons sugar                           1/4 cup cold water
1 cup Schaefer Beer                          1 cup cream, whipped

Beat egg yolks, combine with sugar and beer; cook over hot water until thickened.

Soften gelatine in cold water; add to hot beer custard and stir until dissolved. Remove from heat; cool.

When beginning to thicken, beat until light; fold in whipped cream.

Pour into baked pie shell and chill until firm.

Cover top with additional whipped cream and sprinkle with crushed grape nuts.

Makes one 8-inch pie.

World's Fare

Finally, here’s a piece from my own collection, a “souvenir” that isn’t really a souvenir at all, but a genuine Fair relic.

Chicago restaurateur Dario Toffenetti opened his first permanent New York establishment in the summer of 1940, after his Fair concession proved a big hit with the public.

By all accounts, Toffenetti was something of a showman, known for the lofty, florid language with which he described his food. Here he is on the lowly spud:

Toffenetti’s was “famous for ham and sweets.” I must confess it took me some time to realize “sweets” meant sweet potatoes. “Spaghetti a la Toffenetti” was also a popular dish, and in typical Toffenetti fashion, was touted as “an old historical recipe of Mrs. Toffenetti, procured from the Castle of Count Belvidere.” By 1948 the story had become a touch more elaborate: “The sauce is made from a treasured recipe of old, discovered by Mrs. Toffenetti among the ruins of the ancient castle of the Count of Bonpensier in Bologna.” Ahem.

Whatever its origins, Mrs. Toffenetti’s meat sauce recipe has survived. Here it is, verbatim, as given in Crosby Gaige’s Food at The Fair:

This recipe is for six people. Two packages of spaghetti, seven ounces each, are used.

First prepare the sauce. Take three ounces [6 tablespoons] of butter and melt in a saucepan over the fire. Chop one ounce of onion very fine, place in butter and fry until brown. Grind one pound of lean round steak and place in pan with butter and onion. Then add a whole can of (six ounces) Paoli Tomato Paste, twelve ounces of water, one level teaspoon of salt, and one pinch of pepper.

Stir the whole mixture and bring to the boiling point, then let it boil for exactly 25 minutes, stirring it from time to time. Then skim surplus fat and your sauce will be ready.

Take a pot with one and a half gallons of water, bring it to the boiling point, add one teaspoon salt, two boxes (seven ounces) unbroken spaghetti, and boil for 25 minutes.

Drain water from spaghetti and place spaghetti in large mixing bowl. Grate two ounces of genuine Parmesan cheese, and sprinkle over the spaghetti in layers. Take your sauce, pour spaghetti [sic], mix thoroughly and place on a large platter, sprinkling over a little more cheese and you are ready to serve.

So guess what I had for dinner last night? With one very minor exception, I followed the recipe for the sauce exactly, right down to the “boiling” time. The only thing I did not do “a la Toffenetti” was measure out one ounce of onion; because A, I didn’t feel like getting out my kitchen scale for such a small amount, and B, because I love onions and one OUNCE of onion isn’t nearly enough. So I just chopped up about a third of a large yellow onion. (Oh. And I also didn't use Paoli tomato paste, whatever that is; I used Trader Joe's organic. Oh. And I also didn't grind my own beef. Trader Joe's again.) I ignored the directions regarding the spaghetti itself (boil for 25 minutes?!), but did follow the bit about tossing it with some Parmesan before saucing it.

The result? Pretty darn tasty, I must say. I really expected that it would be bland, but was quite pleasantly surprised. It was meaty and rich and not overly tomato-y. I’ll definitely be making it again.

By the way, the menu pages above are from the awesome collection of the New York Public Library. They have quite a few from Fair eateries, and you can browse the collection online here.  Bon Appétit!

It's Cocktail Time!

Okay, this isn't, strictly speaking, a Fair relic. But it is an interesting and fun little piece of Fair history that you can re-create at home. It's the Zombie, a rum punch popularized at The Fair during its second year. In 1940 Monte Proser opened an establishment at The Fair, named after the potent potion. Which he apparently stole from the drink's creator Donn Beach. Proser also stole the "no more than two to a customer" gimmick from Beach, as well. Which would have pretty much guaranteed that folks would come back for a third.

The original recipe was long believed to be lost, until 2007 or so when mixologist Jeff "Beachbum" Berry cracked the code of what he believes to be Beach's original 1934 recipe.

So...I followed Berry's recipe almost to the letter; I couldn't get some of the brands of rum he suggested, just the Appleton Estate. I learned what FALERNUM is, and bought a bottle. I EVEN made my own grenadine and cinnamon syrup! The result of this costly and time-consuming little lesson in 1930s mixology?

I didn't like it. At all. Heavily redolent of cinnamon, it tasted more of Christmas than voodoo. And, in a personal first, I had no trouble stopping after just one!

Recipes for the libation abound on the internet, including several from the 1930s. I may just steal one of those myself and pass it off as the genuine article.

(Non-copyrighted souvenir photograph found at Tikiroom.com.)

The White Mana Myth

It is an assertion repeated all over the internet. Lent credence by no less than The Gray Lady herself, The New York Times, it appears to be almost universally accepted, and wholly unchallenged. I am speaking of the common belief that the White Mana Diner in Jersey City, New Jersey, made its debut at The Fair as "The Diner of the Future".

Like probably dozens before me, I made the pilgrimage. After a ride on the PATH train, and a short walk through some rather dicey areas on a very hot day, we enjoyed some sliders that were certainly tasty, even if they could hardly lay claim to the title "Burger of the Future"!

I wanted it to be true, I really did. I wanted to believe that I was actually sitting and eating in a restaurant that had been at The Fair. That the burgers I was downing were the direct descendants of that first ground beef served up to hungry Fair-goers in 1939!

But, you know what? I don't believe it. In the three years since my visit to Jersey City, I have not been able to find one shred of documentary or corroborative evidence that the White Mana Diner (or any other diner, for that matter) was ever at The Fair.

It does not appear in any guide book. It does not appear in Crosby Gaige's "Food at the Fair". It does not appear in lists of places to eat distributed at The Fair. Surely, something as important as "The Diner of the Future" would have been advertised and promoted.

Where's the BEEF!?



Then there is the question of time. By all (the accepted) accounts the diner was bought and moved to Jersey City in 1946--a full six years after The Fair closed. While it is certainly possible that the diner operated somewhere else between 1940 and 1946, this begs the question: where was it during the War? The "official" account makes no mention of this period, and with all we know about war-time economy and rationing, I find it nearly impossible to believe that such a heap of metal was allowed to lie about undisturbed and untouched for the duration, when even the Oscars were made of plaster because every ounce of metal was needed for the War effort.

So here's the challenge, and remember, I'd really love it if the White Mana myth were proven to be true. I will give $100 to the first person--any person--able to provide documentary and corroborative proof that the White Mana Diner in Jersey City (or its sister in Hackensack, for that matter) was, in fact, at The Fair in 1939.

Now the fine print: documentary and corroborative proof MUST be in the form of a PHOTOGRAPH of the diner in situ at The Fair, and recognizable as such (i.e., another establishing landmark or landmarks such as the Trylon and/or Perisphere must be visible), and/or a LISTING of the diner in an official Fair publication, one that is generally recognized as authentic by the average Fair enthusiast and/or collector. Good luck!