Tag Archives: World War II

I Love Kewpie ♥️ Some Reflections on Mayonnaise in Postwar Japan

By Motoko Lezec and Kana Jenkins

Tatsuta Maru, Nippon Yusen Kaisha (NYK) Line. Credit: Björn Larsson Collection

At the University of Maryland’s Gordon W. Prange Collection, we are lucky enough to hold a set of souvenir dining menus served aboard trans-Pacific liners before World War II. These came to us as part of recently acquired additional materials from the Japan-America Student Conference (JASC), a non-profit educational and cultural exchange program for college students from the United States and Japan. With the beautifully designed menus as a starting point we will introduce several culinary publications from Japan’s Occupation era (1945-1952) focusing on one unlikely condiment: mayonnaise. 

First class dinner menu on the Tatsuta Maru, July 21, 1936. Credit: Japan-America Student Conference (JASC) archive,Gordon W. Prange Collection, University of Maryland Libraries.

Let’s take a close look at a menu (image) from July 21, 1936. The high speed luxury liner, owned by Nippon Yusen Kaisha (NYK), is the Tatsuta Maru, which departed from San Francisco for Yokohama. Perusing this menu, as well as over a dozen others in the archive, what caught my attention was the salad course, always served right before the dessert course following Continental practice. 

The idea behind the salad greens, dressed simply with oil, vinegar and salt, was to aid digestion. Here, though, the chefs perhaps missed the mark in terms of providing a palate cleanser. Offerings include “California Heart of Lettuce” with ketchup and mayonnaise-based “Thousand Island Dressing” or a commemorative “Liberty” salad served on the Fourth of July . The  “Sayonara” menu, served on September 20, 1940 aboard the Kamakura Maru returning to the U.S.,  features a “Mimosa” salad served with mayonnaise dressing (mayo is also served with a cold course of split lobster).  I had to look up “My Lady” salad, which apparently belongs to a family of mayonnaise-based salads of East European origin, such as “Russian” salad involving boiled potato and carrot, onion, cucumber and cold meats.

These salads got me thinking about mayonnaise, classified by Escoffier as the French mother sauce of cold sauces. Its Japanese incarnation, Kewpie mayonnaise, created in 1925, is today a beloved condiment with near cult status. During the Pacific War however, production of Kewpie mayonnaise was halted due to supply shortages, and did not resume until 1948, three years into Japan’s Occupation.The Tatsuta Maru was requisitioned by the military and served as a transport vessel for troops until she was torpedoed by a U.S. submarine and sunk.  Kewpie’s comeback, on the other hand, can be seen in a newspaper ad that appeared in Nishinippon Shimbun on August 16, 1949. 

“Have some fresh salad”, newspaper advertisement for Kewpie in Nishinippon Shimbun in August 16,1949. Gordon W. Prange Collection, University of Maryland Libraries.

A number of publications in the Prange Collection provide a snapshot of the state of affairs around mayonnaise during this period.. The first, Akabori’s Cookery Book (1948) is by Akahori Senkichi, a pioneer in the popularization of Western cuisine in Japan. Before the war, Akabori was attached as chef to foreign embassies. Reflecting his fluency in English, the book is bilingual. In the author’s preface Akabori writes that after the war, despite his advanced age, he entered the employ of the family of a U.S. military commander in the Occupying Forces. In the forward, the Commander’s wife Delphine R. Suarez commends the recipes for being “proven and adaptable” and writes they will “prove most helpful in furthering the interest of worldwide cookery.”   

Akabori’s Cookery Book (1948) by Akabori Senkichi. Gordon W. Prange Collection, University of Maryland Libraries.

Akabori’s recipe for Mayonnaise Dressing is fairly classic; egg yolk, oil, salt, a touch of mustard, and a splash of vinegar. A pair of chopsticks is used to create the emulsion. He also included novelty versions such as Green Mayonnaise (with spinach) and Red Mayonnaise (with beet) for color variation when presenting hors d’oeuvres, speaking to the fact that a large part of his function was to create visually striking party menus for entertainment. What, then, was served for everyday meals?  What is Served in an American Family – Cooking Guide for Japanese Homemakers (1948) by Matsumoto Keiko offers this perspective. Matsumoto, known as the Japanese translator of Little Women and mysteries by Agatha Christie, writes in the bilingual preface that the recipes were collected while visiting the home of an American Occupation family and represent basic recipes for a family of four, substitutions encouraged. As such, a “slow” (slaw) dressing recommended for raw cabbage involves simply cooking together flour with milk and a beaten egg as a creamy vehicle for seasonings. 

How to eat imported food supplies (1947, author’s translated title).  Gordon W. Prange Collection, University of Maryland Libraries.

Both of these cookbooks were published in 1948, when Japan was in its third year of reconstruction after the devastations of war.   Food shortages were severe and despite thriving (though illegal) black markets, the spectre of starvation was real for much of the population. While the aforementioned cookery books have brightly colored, modern designs, other publications that came out just one or two years prior are printed on drab-colored paper of poor quality. How to eat imported food supplies (1947, author’s translated title), for example, published by the Hiroshima Prefecture Association for Funshoku, is a malnourished-looking pamphlet printed on yellowish brown paper. 

“Funshoku” refers to a diet based on processed grains as opposed to Japan’s traditional diet of whole grain rice. Included are suggestions and advice for how to get the most out of emergency relief supplies such as cornmeal, milo meal, soybean meal. Interestingly, in the “salad” section, a substitute mayonnaise recipe is given: cooking soybean meal in hot water to achieve a creamy consistency, before letting it cool and adding flavorings of salt & pepper, mustard powder and vinegar. This was to be mixed with whatever plants that could be found, including wild weeds. Delicious ways to eat wild grass, 1946, author’s translated title) gives a recipe for dandelion salad with aster leaves, dressed with oil, salt and a boiled egg.

But better times lay ahead. By 1948, Kewpie was back in business and magazines for housewives were full of cheery, child-pleasing recipes such as edamame suspended in gelatin, served with sliced cucumber and apple, store-bought mayo on the side. Nothing screams mid-century quite like a jello mold. Spreading to other parts of Asia and crossing back to America, we’re seeing a “boom” of Japanese-style “sando” – egg salad, potato salad, macaroni salad and the like, all slathered with Kewpie mayo, a non-negotiable ingredient, and sandwiched between slices of shokupan milk bread. The iconic cherub logo has certainly come a long way.


As curator of the Gordon W. Prange Collection at the University of Maryland Libraries, Kana Jenkins assists with research and course-integrated instruction focusing on the Allied Occupation of Japan. Kana is eager to showcase the newly acquired items in the Prange Collection.  

Motoko Lezec works as Collection Coordinator in the Gordon W. Prange Collection. She holds a BA degree in Political Science from International Christian University in Tokyo, and an MA in History of Art & Architecture from Harvard University. She has held curatorial positions at the USC Pacific Asia Museum in Pasadena, CA and the Smithsonian National Museum of Asian Art in Washington DC. While her research centers on modern and contemporary Japanese prints, she is an avid consumer of writings about food – history, memoirs, poetry– as well as its representations in art and film. Her food-related posts on the Prange blog include topics on bread and pastries

 

Curry Goes to War: Indian Army Field Rations in World War Two

By Pradeep Barua

The Indian Army participated in both  world wars in the twentieth century. During the First World War (1914-1918,) 1.3 million Indian soldiers fought for the British Empire. Another two million men joined the Indian Army and fought for the allies in World War Two (1939-1945).[i] In the latter case, feeding this massive army in various theatres of war, ranging from the jungles of Burma (Myanmar) to the deserts of North Africa to the frozen Apennines of Italy, proved to be a major challenge for the Army.

Alongside the challenges of the battlefield and terrain, the Indian Army was also a multi-faith army comprised of Hindus, Muslims and Sikhs. In addition to religious differences, Hindu and Sikh soldiers were subject to caste considerations. Food and rations had to be prepared along strict guidelines to adhere to caste and religious sensitivities. Two cooks or Langris were assigned to a company of soldiers (about 100 men). Depending on the company’s composition, the cooks would be Muslim, Hindu or Sikh, and of a particular caste as needed. The presence of the Langris ensured that food for the different religions and castes was provided for in the right way. The Indian Army also supplied stackable cooking pots, so soldiers could prepare their own meals in the field. This was especially important to high caste Brahmin Hindu soldiers who had to prepare and eat their own food in order to preserve their caste status.[ii]

Frontline British soldiers had access to 24-hour ration packs that included tinned bully beef, spam, steak, kidney pudding and sausages. These were not acceptable to Indian soldiers, and it was subsequently a challenge to keep them fed on the frontlines. To aid in this, dehydrated lentils, fish, vegetables, and fruit were provided to Indian soldiers engaged in combat.[iii] Indian soldiers, like their British counterparts, also foraged for fresh eggs, fish, and poultry as the situation allowed.

Whether it was lentils, fish, or meat, the favorite form of preparation was a curry. It was slow cooked in a pot and served on an enameled metal plate roughly 12 inches across.[iv] The slow cooking tenderized hard dehydrated lentils, dry fish, and even tough cuts of meat. Crucial to the curry was the addition of a blend of powdered spices that each Indian soldier carefully hoarded and carried into the frontlines. A base curry spice blend included turmeric, cumin, and coriander. To this, people added other spices such as chili, black pepper, cinnamon, or nutmeg depending on regional preferences. The curry was usually eaten with a flat wheat bread called the chapatti, which was made every day by the Langris. The curry and the chapattis became synonymous with Indian troops in various theatres of conflict. Many civilians in the combat zones, who were assisted by Indian troops, fondly recall the food that the Indian soldiers shared with them. In Italy, for example, villagers today remember with gratitude the curries and chapattis that Indian soldiers distributed among them to relieve starvation during the Italian campaign in World War Two.[v]

Food traditions of the Indian Army developed at the regimental level. The regimental messes evolved and enshrined curry recipes over periods of up to a century.[vi] This knowledge was passed on to the regiment’s battalion cooks. On festive occasions these dishes were cooked in the rear areas and transported to soldiers in forward positions.

What follows is a small representation of curry recipes unique to Indian Army Regiments:

Assam Regiment:

The battalions of this regiment fought mainly in Assam and Burma during the Second World War. An iconic dish is Machoor Tenga Jhool or Fish Sour Curry.

A bowl of red curry with seafood.
Fig. 1. Machoor Tenga Jhool or Fish Sour Curry. Image courtesy of author.

Jammu & Kashmir Regiment:

The battalions of this regiment also fought in Burma during the Second World War. Its iconic dish is Rogan Josh or Mutton Curry.

A bowl of brown curry with mutton.
Fig. 2. Rogan Josh or Mutton Curry. Image courtesy of the author.

Sikh Regiment:

The battalions of this regiment fought in all the major theatres of war that the Indian Army participated in during the Second World War. Its iconic dish is Sarson ki Saag aur Makki ka Roti or Mustard Greens Curry and corn flat bread.

A plate of green curry with a flatbread.
Fig. 3. Sarson ki Saag aur Makki ka Roti or mustard greens curry and corn flat bread. Image courtesy of the author.

Ultimately, the Indian Army regiments enshrined regional customs and traditions. Food served an essential purpose in maintaining these regional identities. The Indian soldiers’ curry rations played a vital role in ensuring that the Indian Army’s morale and well-being was in the best condition during the Second World War.

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[i] See Pradeep Barua, The Late Colonial Indian Army: From the Afghan Wars to the Second World War (Lanham, MD: Lexington Books, 2021).

[ii] “An Army Marches on its Stomach,” National Army Museum, UK, https://www.nam.ac.uk/explore/army-marches-its-stomach

[iii] Kristen Ann Ehrenberger, “Dehydrated Rations for Indian Soldiers in the Second World War,” H-Nutrition, 22 June 2017, https://networks.h-net.org/node/134048/discussions/182894/dehydrated-rations-indian-soldiers-second-world-war

[iv] “Tales From the Supply Depot: Indian Army Enameled Plate,” 18 May 2015, https://hatchfive.wordpress.com/2015/05/18/indian-army-enamelled-plate/

[v] War and Chapati: The Role of Indian Soldiers in Italy during WWII, documentary produced by Assocoiazione Universarte and directed by Harvinder Singh, https://globalhistorydialogues.org/projects/war-and-chapati/

[vi] Regimental Zaikas: Indian Army Regimental Dishes (Bangalore: ASC Centre and College, 2019).


Pradeep Barua is Professor of History at the University of Nebraska at Kearney. He is the author of several books on South Asia and military history including Gentlemen of the Raj, The State at War in South Asia, The Military Effectiveness of Post-Colonial States, and The Late Colonial Indian Army.

Pulverized Food to Pulverize the Enemy!

By Nathan Hopson

This is the third in a planned series of posts on nutrition science and government-sanctioned recipes in imperial Japan.

Nukapan. Let me introduce our teatime specialty, rice bran fried in a pan. Mix wheat flour and rice bran, add a little water, and fry in a pan. Add no eggs or sugar. Fry for two minutes. It looks just like good custard. But it tastes bitter, smells like horse dung, and makes you cry when you eat it.[1]

Nukapan is an exemplary Japanese wartime culinary abomination, so much so that it features in Arthur Golden’s Memoirs of a Geisha, where the taste is upgraded from horse dung to “old, dried leather.”[2] However, it is not nukapan’s dubious gustatory merits that make it representative of the joys of cooking during the Pacific War. Instead, it is the use of flour and attention to waste reduction that make this a consummate early 1940s delight. Nukapan was both a direct response to food and nutrition shortages caused by catastrophic war planning failures and a manifestation of principles derived from a longer history of national nutritional activism in modern Japan.

Even before Japan plunged into the Pacific War, warning signs indicated the fragility of the Japanese food supply. True, despite constant Malthusian anxieties, Japan proper had achieved high levels of food self-sufficiency in the 1930s, but only by relying on its colonies, suzerains, and neighbors to make up the deficit. Japan’s wartime plan, such as it was, followed the Roman dictum, bellum se ipsum alet. Japan’s war planners believed they could fully integrate the resources―food, oil, etc.—of Southeast Asia into the metropole’s economy. “That strategy,” wrote Daniel Yergin, depended “on the integrity of Japan’s own shipping system.”[3] It failed. American forces decimated supply convoys, incapacitating Japanese shipping. Rice imports fell to ten-percent of prewar levels even before B-29 superfortresses destroyed over 130,000 tons of staples stored in Japan proper. No wonder, then, that the American Hunger Blockade was, according to postwar testimonies by Japanese leaders, “the Allies’ most effective tactic in ending the war.”[4]

Despite “adversity that stood a half-century of better living on its head,” the principles espoused for an ideal wartime diet remained relatively consistent.[5] By spring 1942, the daily menus that had been a fixture of Japan’s newspapers for two decades began the transformation from a combination of sensible middle-class fare with occasional aspirational “bougie foods” à la Japonaise to a grim set of “recipes for disaster” with dour headlines such as, “Meeting minimal nutrition needs with ingredients on hand.”[6] Though the punditocracy expressed confidence to the bitter end that “creative solutions for full use and consumption of foods to eliminate waste and maximize nutrition will appear,” they did not.[7] Instead, Japan doubled down on rationalization (viz., waste reduction and labor and resource optimization) and the substitution of nutritionally equivalent foods. The latter had been promoted by the Imperial Government Institute for Nutrition during the interwar years. Substitution’s primary wartime aim was to reduce rice consumption by supplementing or replacing it with other grains, potatoes, etc. Substitution was not limited to staples, however. No, substitution was comprehensive alchemy. Bread and noodles substituted for rice; beans, fish, insects, and wild birds for meat. Used tea leaves morphed into vegetables while potatoes evolved from vegetables to staples. Daikon and squash leaves―uneaten in better times―doubled as leafy vegetables and waste reduction. Porridges, soups, and other catch-alls dominated the menu, soaking up otherwise discarded ingredients and allowing creative caloric and nutritional supplementation. Potatoes were the most ubiquitous and despised of late wartime substitutes, but the keystone of substitution was “flour.”

Figure 1. Wartime postcard promoting rice conservation (setsumai). Author’s collection.

Perhaps the representative “flour-based food” (funshoku) was kōa pan (“Rising Asia Bread”). In fact, from acorns to kelp to rice hay, anything and everything that could be was powdered or pulverized and eaten, and animal feed and fertilizers such as soymeal and fishmeal found their way onto the menu, too. Comparatively, then, kōa pan might have been relatively harmless. A 1940 women’s magazine recipe called for flour, soymeal, baking powder, salt, powdered seaweed, fishmeal, substitute vegetables, and even sugar―which soon became unavailable. The accompanying illustration included butter; surely nobody was fooled.[8]

Figure 2. Kōa pan illustration (1940), reproduced in Saitō Minako’s Senka no reshipi (Iwanami Shoten, 2015:41).

These flour-based foods were controversial. Some praised their portability and long shelf life, others the ease of mass production and nutritional supplementation by eclectic mixing. Dissenters pointed out that many were, well, gross, and matched poorly with soy sauce, miso, and other traditional seasonings and condiments.[9] Digestive complaints abounded. Nevertheless, “flours” of all sorts gradually came to dominate wartime discourse―if not dinner―pushing out traditional “granular foods” (ryūshoku) such as rice.


In my next post, I will examine the surprising continuities of “flour-based food” in the early postwar years, and how American agricultural surplus helped complete a dietary transformation already underway during wartime.

This post is based on my “Women, Waste, and War: Food, Gender, and Rationalization in Wartime Japanese Discourse.” In Gender and Food in Contemporary East Asia, edited by Jooyeon Rhee, Chikako Nagayama, and Eric Li. Lexington Books, forthcoming.


References:

[1] Quoted in Thomas Havens, Valley of Darkness (Norton, 1978), 114.

[2] Arthur Golden, Memoirs of a Geisha (Vintage, 2011), 346.

[3] Daniel Yergin, The Prize (Free Press, 2014), 333.

[4] Sheldon Garon, “The Home Front and Food Insecurity in Wartime Japan: A Transnational Perspective,” in The Consumer on the Home Front: Second World War Civilian Consumption in Comparative Perspective, ed. Hartmut Berghoff, Jan Logemann, and Felix Romer (Oxford University Press, 2017), 51.

[5] Havens, Valley of Darkness, 123.

[6] “Asu no kondate,” Yomiuri Shimbun, March 3, 1942.

[7] Tsutsui Masayuki, “Kanso seikatsu no shihyō (12),” Yomiuri Shimbun, May 6, 1944.

[8] Saitō Minako, Senka no reshipi (Iwanami Shoten, 2015), 56.

[9] “Funshoku no senji futekikakusei,” Yomiuri Shimbun, September 4, 1944.