Cool la la, it's Magic Florida Lime Icebox Cake!

Has this summer been the absolute toastiest one of my whole life? Thankfully, no, but it hasn't been the chilliest either, especially now that we're well and properly half way into August, a time of the year that is more than a little bit famous for its sweltering temperatures.

Given that many of us are presently watching the mercury climb so high it makes scaling Mt. Everest look like hopping over a molehill, I thought you might enjoy another fantastic ice cold vintage recipe today. This one from 1957 just happens to feature my all-time favourite citrus fruit, the humble, wildly zingy little lime.

I've always enjoyed the taste and scent of lime, perhaps in part because I tend to favour the underdog and/or less common ingredients, and lime (though popular in classic Key Lime Pie and wedged into bottles of Corona), doesn't get a massive amount of play in Canadian cuisine.

While others were die-hard fans of varieties such as Dr. Pepper and Raspberry (both admittedly terrific, too), as a youngster my Lip Smacker's flavour of choice was always lime, which came wrapped in a pretty, sparkly green tub and was so invigorating to dab on my lips before heading off to school.

Today's 1950s recipe is every bit as as refreshing and gorgeously scented as that was, and unlike like lip balm, you are thoroughly encouraged to tuck into a generous portion of Magic Florida Icebox Cake!




{While the text on this awesome 1950s frozen lime pie recipe is a definitely bit on the small side, fear not, if you click here you can see a larger version - which is a very good thing, because I think every citrus fan the world over should get a chance to cool off care of this scrumptious treat sometime this month. Vintage recipe image via Charm and Poise on Flickr.}



Though this recipe is bit more like a frozen pie or what's sometimes referred to just as a "freeze", I have no qualms with calling anything sweet that you make a pan a cake during these crayons-melting days of mid-August.

If you're not too keen on lime, or would simply rather opt for another citrus flavour, I'm quite certain that you'd have marked success if you gave this recipe a spin with lemon (especially Meyer Lemon), orange, blood orange, tangerine, pink grapefruit, mandarin orange, or yuzo (adjusting the type of frozen juice/lemonade concrete used as needed).

Perhaps it's the associate that one makes in their mind with this tranquil hue and mint, but there's just something instantly cooling about the sight of seeing soft, sweet green, such as the colour of this classic citrus infused icebox dessert.

One bite in and you'll no doubt be feeling considerably more refreshed, too, especially if you're slogging through the tail end of the dog days of summer right about now and really need an easy, completely delicious frozen dessert to help get you through until autumn returns.

Speak of the 1950s deviled eggs

Last month we delved into potato salad with a delicious, ingredient rich recipe from the 1940s. Today we're going to spend a little while with another summertime party, picnic, and cold cut based supper staple: the deviled egg.

Where exactly deviled eggs got their start is hard to say, as foods that included a notable hit of spice or piquancy have been called "deviled" since at least the 18th century, and stuffed/filled eggs have likely existed for that far back (if not longer), given how popular eggs have been throughout many cultures around the world for centuries.

Known, less commonly as salad eggs, eggs mimosa (no relationship to the drink), and dressed eggs, deviled eggs appear in scads of yesteryear cookbooks, and really began to gain in popularly from the 1930s onwards (with, I'd venture to say, the 1950s being their heyday). I'm sure that this is due in no small part to the fact that refrigerators were becoming more commonplace and thus eggs (especially ones that had been prepared with highly perishable ingredients like mayonnaise) could be safely stored in a chilled environment until they were ready to be served.

Much as with many other summertime finger foods and salads, most people put their own subtle spin on deviled eggs, though at its heart this relatively simple recipe remains fairly similar across the board. Hard boiled eggs are partnered with mayo, Miracle Whip or salad dressing cream, various seasonings, and often mustard. A sprinkling of paprika (or for those who like it extra spicy, chili powder) is commonplace, but not always a given.

In today's 1950s recipe for Deviled Eggs, the ingredient list is kept to a relative minimum, but there's no shortage of taste of crowd pleasing appeal here (especially since this recipes lends itself to being multiplied to your heart's content).





{A smile-inducingly fun illustration accompanies this 1957 recipe for Deviled Eggs, making it one that's worthy of printing out and pasting into your book of favourite recipes. Image via Charm and Poise on Flickr.}




I adore sweet relish, so I'd likely up the content there a little if following this recipe. If I was in the mood to deviate, I might ditch the ketchup and relish, and swap the yellow mustard for honey, Dijon, or grainy, swirling in a small handful of freshly picked chopped chives, parsley, basil, or tarragon. A dash of Worcestershire sauce can also be a wonderful savoury note to include in the filling when making this classic finger food.

If you like your Deviled eggs to be especially "evil" (aka, sizzlingly hot), you can always toss in a splash of tabasco, chili, or sweet chili (awesome with a little lemon grass) sauce, not to mention cayenne pepper, fresh or canned chili peppers, onions, or hot salsa.

If on the other hand, you prefer an stuffed egg that veers closer to being angelic, forgo the fire and stick with creamy, mild ingredients such as sour cream, French dressing, dill, pimentos, poppy seeds, sesame seeds, finely chopped celery, grated carrot, sun dried tomatoes, roasted garlic, or shredded cheese (such as cheddar, Swiss, or Havarti).

There's really no limit to the array of ingredients you can plunk down inside of a hollowed out half a hardboiled egg, and therein lies so much of the fun and appeal of this classic, quick-to-prepare, much beloved appetizer which, perhaps due to its name, is more than a little tempting to both make and consume!