Food for Thought:
Rinktum Ditty

Sometimes I’m asked how I got interested in food. To be honest, I grew up in a family of foodies, even before “foodies” was a word. So not really certain I can take any credit for having an interest in food, any more than I can take credit for eye color.

My dad was the one who pursued the exotic, having grown up working in a hotel in St. Petersburg, Florida, where most of the people he worked with were Cuban, African American, or Seminole. (Had to work as his dad died when my dad was 10.) Then he went to North Africa, Israel, and Iran during World War II. (North Africa and Iran were with the Army Air Corps. Israel was because he had the chance, when he was on leave, to work on archaeological digs.) It is because of dad that I had an early introduction to many cuisines, especially Cuban, when we visited his mother in St. Pete. But he was always on the hunt for something new—and that actually accelerated after he went with the airlines.

My mom's side of the family included several generations of good cooks, including my grandmother, who had degrees (U of Toronto) in Food Science and Home Economics, and then went to work developing recipes for a big Canadian food company, before moving to Chicago at age 27 to get married. As a result, even before I bought my first historic cookbook, I had cookbooks from my mom, grandmother, and great-grandmother (original 1897 volume of the Fannie Farmer Boston School of Cooking Cookbook), all clearly showing the signs of heavy use.

I loved, and still love, those old cookbooks, and I enjoy going through them, looking at what has changed and what is the same—and what might be worth bringing back. While flipping through one of old volumes, the name of one recipe caught my eye: Rinktum Ditty. This is something of a spin on Welsh rarebit (or do you say “rabbit”—both terms are ancient and correct), except in this dish, tomatoes take the place of beer.

It appears that Rinktum Ditty came from Cheshire in the U.K. The dish became strongly associated with New England, though its popularity did spread in time. By 1917, it appeared in recipe collections as far west as Arizona. Why not. It was cheap and tasty. But what about the name. I've searched, and all I come up with is “origin unknown,” though one site did suggest it might have origins in some British dialect. Otherwise, all one finds is a description of this dish.

Some versions of Rinktum Ditty call for cooked tomatoes, others for tomato sauce, and a few versions from the Great Depression (when it became very popular) used canned tomato soup. I compromised and used a can of “petite diced” tomatoes. It made it a bit chunkier, but the flavor of the cheese came through a bit more, and it was thicker and heartier.

The first recipe I ever saw for this simply called for “cheese.” I wondered that no specific kind was named, but after I made it, I realized it was because almost any good melting cheese would work. I used a good, sharp cheddar, but I imagine a nice smoked gouda would be amazing. And since the recipe apparently came from Cheshire, Cheshire cheese could be appropriate.

Because of its antiquity, as it spread, the name got written down phonetically, and a variety of spellings arose, including Rum Tum Ditty, Ring Tum Tiddy, Rink Tum Diddy, and a few other options. But Rinktum Ditty is the most common spelling. It’s an easy dish to prepare, even finding its way into the repertoire of early logging camps on the frontier. Some recipe collections note that, because there is no beer, it is suitable for children. It's also mighty tasty.

It is traditionally served over toast. Some versions specify crackers. I also tried it over pumpernickel, which was great. As I type this, I'm thinking baked potato would work, too. Enjoy.