Remains of the Day

By ABIGAIL CARROLL  Published: November 27, 2010, New York Times

Middlebury, Vt.  THANKSGIVING is a culinary commemoration of the “Pilgrim and Indian” feast. The turkey salad, turkey soup and turkey sandwiches that have dominated our lives these last few days, on the other hand, commemorate something else: a lost way of American eating, one in which leftovers played a central role.

During the hearth-cooking era, preparing food was time-consuming and labor-intensive, and early Americans cooked with leftovers in mind. In most households, at least one meal a day was based on the remains of a previous meal. If “hasty” cornmeal pudding was on the menu for supper, breakfast might feature the same pudding sliced, fried and served with milk or molasses. If the midday dinner was stew, supper was likely stew or cold meat and potatoes derived from it, with the possibility of more for breakfast.

In some households, this recycling of meals lasted at least through the late 19th century. The morning of the grisly 1892 Lizzie Borden murders in Fall River, Mass., the family breakfasted on mutton soup and cold mutton from the day before.

Leftovers for breakfast began yielding to bread and pastry in the early- to mid-19th century, thanks to the cookstove, which made baking a more predictable affair. Health fanatics like the Rev. Sylvester Graham, who praised the virtues of fiber and questioned Americans’ addiction to meat, also helped usher in the lighter, grain-based breakfast, setting the stage for the breakfast cereal revolution. By the turn of the 20th century, there was no longer much room for leftovers at the morning meal.

Nor was there much room at lunch. During the country’s industrialization, rigid factory schedules replaced agricultural work rhythms, pushing dinner to evening and reducing the midday meal to a short, informal refueling. No longer able to go home for a hot meal, workers and schoolchildren packed lunch pails with simple, filling foods like biscuits, potatoes, sandwiches and pie. Leftovers also found themselves in lunch pails, but they could be a hassle and sometimes carried a stigma. Increasingly, workers patronized lunch wagons, cafeterias and automats, and children eventually took advantage of school lunch programs.

That leftovers carried a stigma points to their association with class status. Slaves’ diets were often supplemented by leftovers from a master’s table; domestic servants took home leftovers from employers’ tables.

While the middle class did not want to be seen eating leftovers, it also didn’t want to seem wasteful. Consequently, a generation of cookbooks taught homemakers to hide leftovers in sandwiches, disguise them with garnishes, bury them in sauces and reconstitute them as new entrees. “Remaking” leftovers was a celebrated skill, and the woman who could convert cold ham into a dainty sandwich spread, appetizing casserole or tasty soup (or direct her servant to do so) was to be praised.

With two world wars and the Depression, leftovers enjoyed a resurgence. Eating leftovers came alongside victory gardens, home canning and meatless and wheatless days as a form of kitchen patriotism. In 1918, “Foods That Will Win the War and How to Cook Them” encouraged women to turn meat remainders into soup, and cold muffins into toast. By the late 1930s, reliable home refrigerators made storing uneaten food significantly easier. No longer was it necessary to pick at the same dish for consecutive meals until it spoiled. Appliance manufacturers published cookbooks with advice on putting, as Frigidaire advertised, a “lift in leftovers.” In the 1950s, Tupperware became available, followed by Saran Wrap and Ziploc bags, and since the late 1970s, Americans have been “nuking” leftovers in microwaves for instant snacks and meals.

Though technology has eased the task of dealing with leftovers, Americans have come to depend on them less than ever. For many eaters, repurposing leftovers has become all but obsolete, thanks to processed foods with long shelf lives and countless venues for eating out.

So if you find yourself struggling to turn Thursday’s turkey into yet another meal, remember that this was how Americans once ate day in and day out — and be grateful that there will probably be a new menu starting tomorrow.

Post courtesy of Abigail Carroll. 

Abigail Carroll is writing a book on the history of the American meal.