The Rahmeyer case doesn't have the Drew store's variety among the pastries. But there is the Swiss tart which is made in a crinkle edge patty pan, one brought from across. The pastry shell is of short cookie dough, the filling unsweetened, chopped apple, baked without seasoning. A restrained dusting of powdered sugar rests lightly on the top crust.
The fruit squares, six cents each, are tender squares of crust, sandwiched with a mixing of currants, raisins and sweet crumbs. Spiced granulated sugar is sprinkled over the square when it comes from the oven, and while still warm this is cut into small oblong pieces.
Two carloads of reindeer carcasses arrived in New York City for holiday eating, and there is still reindeer enough to last out the season. Here's meat that came a long way, from Minivak Island off the Alaskan coast where it was rounded up under government approval and with the natives assisting, then slaughtered, dressed and frozen for shipment to the States.
A black-haired, idea-ridden young Coldwater, Michigan farmer by the name of Ed Butters brought in the reindeer, enough to make forty tons. Ed Butters is the Southern Michigan farmer who keeps a couple of hundred wild buffaloes at home on the range. They got there because Ed had the crazy notion to breed wild game as other farmers breed cattle.
It was during a meat-scarce period three years ago that Butters went into the buffalo business in a big way. He not only rounded up buffaloes from all over the country to sell as a point-free steak, but he stocked his farm with the animals and started building a herd. His plan is to supply the game market annually with at least 100 head. The buffalo venture led to other ideas, reindeer for one.
The Minivak Eskimos make their reindeer round-ups on foot. Six of them working a week or ten days can bring in a herd of a thousand. As they near the home village a smoke signal is given and the town turns out, men, women and children, to help with the capture. The butchering is done in a modern abattoir where all carcasses are carefully processed under government inspection, then cooled for forty-eight hours before being frozen. After that into cold storage compartments of freighters and off to the market.
The meat is selling at E. Joseph's in Washington Market. Prices of the choice cuts run as follows: Boneless shoulder roast ＄1.50 a pound, legs and rump ＄1.25 a pound, shoulders 90 cents a pound, steaks ＄1.75 a pound, rib or loin chops ＄1.50 a pound, stew meat 50 cents a pound, chopped meat patties with bacon 75 cents a pound.
Sea-fresh oysters, trade-marked “Fireplace,” have been a mail order since 1938, handled by J. and J. W. Elsworth Company of Greenport, Long Island. The first year oysters went traveling from sea bed to table only 600 boxes were shipped. The next year over 4000 boxes were mailed. Last year the total was 12,000 boxes, this year to date 16,000 orders have been filled.
The Elsworth firm is no upstart in the business, a going concern since 1839. Even the express package idea credited to young J. W. the third is just a variation on a gamble his great grandfather, Joseph William the first, took back in the days of the “forty niners.”
The story is that a man named Morgan came from the West Coast to try to buy oysters for delivery in San Francisco. There the gold rush was on and men who hit pay dirt would pay anything for a favored food. Morgan went to the Housman Company, suppliers for hotels and restaurants, and asked if they would send a barrel of oysters on trial. Those Dutchmen were taking no chances. To ship a barrel of oysters across the continent would cost ＄200 and if it spoiled en route they were out of pocket. Great-Grandpa Elsworth heard of Morgan's request and said he'd take a chance. The old boy must have shipped more ice than oysters for the bivalves arrived in perfect condition. They sold in the West for ＄10 apiece. After that Morgan went whole hog for oysters and the Elsworths shipped them by the hundreds of barrels.
That man Morgan had another idea; he would cultivate oysters in the San Francisco Bay. He ordered the Elsworths to ship “seed” along. Five or six barrels were turned overboard into the bay and soon plumped into shapely maturity. Thereafter the Elsworths shipped “seed” to the West four or five carloads a day through the season until the earthquake. The upheaval ended the oyster-growing venture by turning the bay's bottom topsy-turvy and burying it deep under silt. Just for the record, the bay has been cleaned in part and oysters are being raised again on a small scale. Yes, the Elsworths send the “seed,” about two carloads a month during the season.
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