The White House’s new cuisine was dreary, but economical. Prunes, gelatin-filled salads, spaghetti with boiled carrots and sandwiches began to appear on White House tables; the kitchen served so much mutton that it became a joke throughout Washington. A typical lunch included cold jellied bouillon, salmon salad and bread and butter sandwiches. The First Lady experimented with foods like Milkorno, a Cornell-developed food supplement made with dried skim milk and cornmeal. The succession of bland, unappetizing meals became so notorious that visitors stuffed themselves with food before dining at the White House.
“Eleanor wasn’t just choosing a cuisine; she was defining her role in the White House, and the food had to deliver the right message,” writes historian Laura Shapiro in the New Yorker. The First Lady wanted her kitchen to be a showcase for American foods and modern American ways of cooking them.
To be fair, the Roosevelts’ food wasn’t much worse than what most Americans ate during the Depression. Nutrition, not taste, was paramount in a time of bread lines and soup kitchens, and Eleanor was trying to use her table as a way of encouraging and inspiring other Americans to get through a uniquely challenging historical moment. But the result was decidedly un-tasty—so much so that her own children tried to get off the hook.
“I remember [my son] James asked me if he could have a glass of milk by paying five cents extra,” Eleanor recalled years later. “If any blame is to be placed on anyone for things which displeased my husband in the running of the household, then I was the person to receive the censure.”
The White House wasn’t off the hook when World War II started, either: The Roosevelts ate rationed food just like everyone else, and Nesbitt came up with wartime menus for dishes like eggs stuffed with meat scraps, “noodles and mushrooms with chicken scraps” and casseroles. Even if meals in the FDR White House didn’t inspire the palate, they were intended to inspire the nation to get through hard times.