Almost twenty years after Allison’s Wells burned in 1963, O.C. McDavid, former managing editor of the Jackson Daily News and a noted sculpture artist, was approached by Hosford Fontaine to assist in a book with recipes. In turn, McDavid enlisted Marilyn Bonney, who owned Press & Palette in Canton Mart, to print the 68-page book. According to Marilyn, “I printed it using paper plates which were a one-time use. I don’t remember the exact number printed, but it was probably1,000. The plan was not to sell it, but O.C. and Hosford gave it to people they knew, and I did the same.” In a similar spirit, with hopes of perpetuating Hosford’s wonderful work, here’s Allison’s Wells: The Last Mississippi Spa by Hosford Latimer Fontaine.
Cucumber Sandwiches
Dear Ones,
Summer has come, so you must brush up on cucumber sandwiches. These dainties are among the noshes mandated for those incredibly fussy high teas you read about in rapacious Edwardian novels. Similarly, we serve cucumber sandwiches for gatherings where ostensible decorum rules; social luncheons, a patio cocktail hour, and of course the inevitable funeral. Note cucumber sandwiches at a kegger are the epitome of gauche.
Do not use those bloated green zeppelins from the local grocery; go to the farmers’ market and select good fresh cukes. If you can find a firm yellow one, cherish it’s sweetness. Partially peel fruit, refrigerate for an hour, and drain well before use.
Trim bread–no crusts, please–and cut to size. Top with a spread of cream cheese and mayonnaise 3:1, lime or lemon juice, white pepper, and salt. Top with cucumber and cool.
Mississippi’s Ark of Taste
The Ark of Taste is an online catalogue developed and maintained by the Slow Food Foundation, which records small-scale quality productions belonging to the cultures, history and traditions of our world, an extraordinary heritage of fruits, vegetables, animal breeds, cheeses, breads, sweets and cured meats. The Ark grows day by day, gathering alerts from people who see the flavors of their childhood are disappearing, taking a piece of us with them.
This is a selection of the foods in the catalogue tagged with Mississippi. Native Mississippians will find many familiar, some surprising, and a few objectionable. As a Calhoun County native, I’m proud to include two sweet potato varieties.
American Native Pecan
American Paddlefish
American Persimmon
Bradford Watermelon
Cotton Patch Goose
Hayman Sweet Potato
Louisiana Mirlitron
Mississippi Silver Hull Bean
Moon and Stars Watermelon
Nancy Hall Sweet Potato
New Orleans French Bread
Pawpaw
Piney Woods Cattle
Shagbark Hickory
Southern Field Peas
Traditional Sorghum Syrup
Tupelo Honey
Watermelon Pickles
White African Sorghum
White Velvet Okra
Wild Gulf Coast Shrimp
Yellow-Meated Watermelon
Parmesan Eggs
Sardine Salad
Disaster Relief
Mix a fifth of light rum with a fifth of dark rum, 2 cups lime juice, 2 cups orange juice, 1 quart passion fruit juice, and a cup of simple syrup. Serve over crushed ice. Keep a pour spout bottle of grenadine near the ice bucket, and don’t worry about garnishes unless you want to pick orange rinds and toothpicks out of the couch cushions.
Compromise Cake
One of my friends who has an eye out for old community cookbooks at rummage sales, flea markets, and thrift shops ran upon a Christmas Sampler from the girls of Ladies’ Night Out at the First Baptist Church of Florence, Mississippi. Therein I found a recipe for compromise cake, not just any old compromise cake, mind you, but “THE COMPROMISE CAKE.”
The recipe just stopped me in my tracks; just what kind of compromise does this cake represent? Given the zeitgeist I suspected some sort of quasi-political origin such as a traditional dessert for such a Southern political–a barbecue or fish fry–but when I passed the recipe around on social media for clues, a friend, upon seeing the applesauce ingredient, pointed out that apple cakes were traditionally served at hillbilly weddings back in the day, so maybe the compromise is between the groom cake and the bride cake.
That’s how I learned about apple stack cakes, which mountain housewives made from apples they’d dry for the winter. Pieces of apples were threaded onto strings and hung in the rafters or in a special outbuilding that had a small kiln inside for drying fruit and other foods. Dried apples were cooked with water and sweetening into a thick, fragrant sauce. The layers were made with sorghum, applesauce, and flour, thin and crisp, really more like a big cookie than a cake.
Stories were told about poor mountain brides who could not afford a wedding cake and were gifted with stack-cake layers donated by friends and family members. The layers were brought to the wedding, stacked and cut on the spot; the more layers, the more popular the bride. Stack cakes usually had at least five layers and most people believed there should be an odd number for luck. I’m sure someone had a stack or two ready in case things didn’t add up right.
The catch is that because of the dryness of the layers, a stack cake–at any height–must sit for at least two days. Given that time, the moisture from the apples–and more often than not the applesauce between–softens the layers a bit, melding the flavors and making the cake moist and delectable. Cutting into a stack cake as soon as it is assembled is a disservice to the cake and the cooks.
My theory that the cake was intended to go with the couple on their honeymoon in case things got out of hand was gently debunked by Elizabeth Carter, who said, “You’ve told a lovely story about apple stack cakes that is very true, but you missed the point of the Compromise Cake. My mother (who recently—2022–passed away at the age of 91 and I discussed this more than once.”
“My grandmother, aunts, and my mom all make an applesauce fruit cake that contains lots of assorted fruit and nuts, and no eggs. It’s very moist, but only bakes successfully if you put in the required cups of fruit & nut mixture.”
Elizabeth also remembers a newspaper article “back in the 1960s or 70s” about The Compromise Cake that retold the story from an elderly couple.”
“It seems the young bride tried to make the Applesauce Fruit cake their first Christmas but it didn’t go well and her husband didn’t want all the fruit. So to please her new husband they “compromised”, she only put in what fruit and nuts he liked, and added more ingredients as normal cake would have, and it baked just fine.”
Another correspondent, Kate, wrote, “I am going through my recipe box and just came across The Compromise Cake recipe. It is in my hand, and I believe I wrote it more than 50 years ago. The recipe is exactly as you have written with one exception: my recipe includes 2 Tablespoons of cocoa. I do not recall ever making the recipe, but vaguely recall having eaten it somewhere and having been impressed with it, copied the recipe.”
Here’s the recipe from the Ladies’ Night Out from the First Baptist Church of Florence, Mississippi.
The Compromise Cake
1 1/2 c. applesauce
1 c. raisins
1 c. chopped pecans
1 1/3 c. sugar
2 c. cake flour
1/2 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. cinnamon
1/2 tsp. nutmeg
1/2 tsp. cloves
1 1/2 tsp. baking soda
1 c. chopped dates
1/2 c. shortening
2 eggs
1 tsp. vanilla
Lightly oil and flour a 10-inch tube pan; refrigerate. Combine applesauce and soda; set aside. Mix raisins, dates, and pecans; set aside. Whip shortening with sugar, add eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition. Combine flour and spices; add 1/2 cup flour mixture to raisin mixture. Gradually mix very well remaining flour with shortening. Add applesauce and fruit/nuts mix. Stir in vanilla. Spoon batter into prepared pan. Bake at 350 degrees for an hour, or until toothpick dry. Cool thoroughly before removing.
Oysters D’Iberville
Refrigerator Pickles
Chances are you know a master canner who owes their vast and celebrated successes to a procedural mojo that carries with it an annoying smidge of smugness. These domestic deities take justifiable pride in their product. At any county fair, you’ll find home canned goods with an astonishing range and degree of artisanship. Competition is psychotic. Fortunately for us mere mortals, there’s a quick, delicious alternative to the sort of home canning that requires humongous pots and hubris. All you need for refrigerator pickles are a jar or two, running water, and a refrigerator.
Supermarket vegetables are unsuitable. Pack 6 cups sliced cucumbers and 1 cup sliced onion into quart jars. Heat a cup of vinegar with a cup of sugar, and a tablespoon of salt. I like a little black pepper. Pour over cucumber mix. Cool, cover, and refrigerate for a couple of days before serving. These will keep for a week or so.
Dill Shrimp
Bring a pound of shrimp to a short boil in a gallon of water with juice of a lemon and couple of bay leaves, 12 oz. beer, and a quarter cup of vinegar. No need for salt. Drain, cool, and peel; devein if you’re squeamish or just fastidious. Toss with one mayonnaise to one part sour cream, fresh dill, horseradish (a hint!), and minced capers. Throw in a little white pepper for a bit of bite. Serve over leaf greens with onion, toasted rye, pickled eggs, cucumbers and beets.










