There was little at times to be had but black bread and soup and tea, this was the Russian’s regular diet. A few Americans came along one day to my place talking about “pancakes.” I set them chopping out a mill-race; we got some poor barley and ground it. I got a little reindeer milk and let it sour on the back of the stove, then using the bicarbonate of soda from my medicine kit, I got them to rise (a little). We had some poor treakel [sic] for sweetening and then I made a griddle (as I told you) from a locomotive boiler.The cakes stuck to the griddle—until I greased it with a Swedish turnip cut in two—then we had pancakes. Somehow that got into print.
My last venture with pies was at the Eagle hut in London a few weeks before the Armistice. When I landed in London in August of ’18, I had had no word from my family—no mail—since Christmas. I immediately looked around to find, if I could, someone from Cincinnati, and ran across Claude Shafer. He was giving cartoon lectures at the Eagle Hut. I went with him and found the boys all fed upon English Raspberry tarts (and other kinds) so Claude suggested I make a batch of sure-enough pies. There was plenty of good material available there and I made a big batch while Claude drew a cartoon of me, which he sent home to his paper (in those days, The Post). The English cooks caught on to the upper crust business and their tarts thereafter became sure-enough pies. --from Rev. Jesse Halsey's account of his service with the Y.M.C.A. during World War I