The Compleat And Actual Adventures of Marcella White Campbell

New maxim: never bring a fully-loaded John Deere tractor into the office unless you intend to use it.

Last Week:

In Episode 5, “The Fog,” Don and little Sally shared a late-night meal of corned beef hash while Betty was in the hospital with little Gene. So last night’s main course was pretty self-explanatory.

If I do say so myself, it was easily the best iteration of this recipe (from Saveur Cooks Authentic American, a cookbook that is becoming increasingly dog-eared and food-stained with heavy use) I have made. I think it helped that I omitted the potatoes, although that means that, when I make hash tonight, I will have to boil some. The broth was richer than last time, and I also weighted the beef with heavier weights for much longer. Success!

Fun fact: did you know Corned Beef and Cabbage was on the menu at President Lincoln’s inauguration?

This week’s cocktail was lifted from AMC’s Mad Men Cocktail Guide. Since they must know, better than anyone, how to answer the question WWDDD? (What Would Don Draper Drink?) it seems best to just leave it to the experts. I made Greyhounds, since we discovered the site late in the game and I had a huge grapefruit sitting around.

(I am so proud of my little psychedelic glasses from IKEA.) Greyhounds are somewhere between five and ten thousand times better than Screwdrivers, and if I had remembered to salt the rims they would have been absolutely perfect.

On to dessert, again from Betty Crocker’s Hostess Cookbook:

Like most modern, space-age recipes from the sixties, this one calls for doctored cake mix — in this case, Betty Crocker brownie mix. It also calls for whipped cream mixed with instant coffee and brown sugar.

(Unfortunately, I couldn’t find the sterling silver Russian samovar I looted from the Romanovs, so it’s not in the picture.)

I know. It tasted awful, too. (Although, since I mixed the whipped cream with finely ground coffee and pulverized turbinado sugar, and shaved Valrhona chocolate on top, the frosting was great.)

Why did people in the Sixties hate dessert so much? They seemed to turn the full force of their futuristic industrial foods fetish on unsuspecting jello molds and ladyfingers.

So that was last week, and, overall, it was a success, if you didn’t eat the “cake.”

This Week:

Ken Cosgrove got a tractor, Don Draper got one of those new non-promotions everybody around the office is getting (in a weird echo of Pete Campbell’s previous promotion humiliation) then discovered he was apparently secret BFFs with Conrad Hilton, Joan heard further evidence she has married the least talented, most rapey doctor in the world, and everyone had to work on July 3 because the British invaded.

It was hard not to think about the Beatles when four Brits in similar suits started working the room, leaving a trail of swooning secretaries behind them.

(During most of the episode, Lane Pryce makes a very convincing Pete Best.)

All these stories came to a head during the episode’s most food-filled scene, Joan’s farewell party.

Guy, the British Don Draper who has invaded Manhattan to loot and pillage the American Don Draper’s brains and talent, gives a toast to cement his status as the new master of the office. He wishes Joan “caviar and children,” and, unlike the American men, calls her “Mrs. Harris.”

Joan has resigned on the assumption her husband will make chief resident. She has also just discovered that Dr. Harris is never going to make chief resident, she will have to find another job, and her husband wants to move to Atlanta to start over. Thus, an unusual display of genuine emotion:

Guy also encourages everyone to “enjoy the liquor, and delicatessen.” (I think this means we get Boccalone next week! I’m sure Guy meant handcrafted Italian salumi).

Up to this point, everyone has been pretending to be as industrious and strait-laced as possible for the benefit of their reserved British overlords. Cradling their champagne uncertainly, Pete, Ken, Kinsey, and Harry echo the Beatles-like formation (Pete is Paul, obviously; Ken is John; Kinsey is George, and Harry is always, always Ringo).

Interestingly, American management skips the party. Don ducks out to meet with Conrad Hilton. Meanwhile, when Roger goes to Cooper’s office to chat, the big dog is not drinking champagne — he’s eating chocolate pudding. None of these admen want what the Brits are selling.

Back at the party, as the liquor flows, the Americans begin to heed the Brits’ encouragements to suspend decorum for the moment. It’s a bad idea: all hell literally breaks loose.

It seems like clear foreshadowing that the Brits are not, ultimately, going to be able to tame the Americans. Also, it appears that Pryce’s strategy of holding himself stiffly aloof works better than Guy’s strategy of partying with the Americans and getting his foot severed by a tractor. Clearly, Pryce’s sobering effect is needed and Pryce gets his old job back.

In other food news: Betty offers Don a choice of swedish meatballs or chicken salad. Don chooses chicken salad, which he eats with Ritz crackers and a Bud. I am very nervous about the chicken salad recipes I am going to find in my vintage cookbooks for next week. I may end up with some kind of terrifying aspic. Luckily there will be salumi, caviar, and champagne to go along with, and probably a gross cake.

Note: Next week’s foodcap will probably come out on Tuesday, since Sunday evening is Yom Kippur and I refuse to watch Mad Men while fasting.

Refuse.