Over the past couple of weeks you've been doing one or more things to excess, what with the holidays and all. Among the possibilities:
Eating fudge.
Drinking vodka tonics.
Napping.
That's all well and good, but you know, New Year's is in a couple of days. As such, you should probably start making some resolutions for 2010, one of which statistically will probably be to lose weight or get back in shape. Am I right?
According to a study published in the Journal of Clinical Psychology in 2002, 40 to 50 percent of Americans make New Year's resolutions and the most popular resolutions include quitting smoking, losing weight, and starting an exercise program. Among participants making resolutions in that particular study, 31 percent resolved to lose weight in the new year. And this year, a survey by Dorthy.com found that 63 percent of respondents cited weight loss, fitness, or improved health as a resolution for 2010. Anyway you cut it, a lot of people are going to be resolving to try out a healthier lifestyle over the next few days or so. Most will be big fat unhealthy failures within a few weeks, but you can't blame them for giving it a shot.
With that in mind, today's Weird Cookbook isn't really so much a cookbook as it is a diet planner. And what a diet it is: The Drinking Man's Diet [Also Recommended for Ladies and Teetotalers], copyright 1964 by Gardner Jameson and Elliott Williams. Basically, the Drinking Man's Diet was a precursor to the low-carb phenomenon that was popular earlier in the Aughts: think South Beach or Atkin's, with a twist.
And that twist is two-fold: it involves hard liquor and is aimed at dudes. (Although, as the booklet's subtitle suggests, ladies and teetotalers are also welcome to try it out).
"Did you ever hear of a diet which was fun to follow?" asks the introduction. No, actually!
However, the Drinking Man's Diet is different, according to the authors. It is fun! It is masculine! If you follow it you can have "two martinis before lunch, a thick steak generously spread with Sauce Bernaise" and not gain an ounce. Two martinis before lunch? What? That happened?
Or you can go to dinner with your "favorite girl," feasting on squab, hollandaise, and drinking fancy French wine, only to follow it all up with an "evening of rapture and champagne." ("Rapture" means your favorite girl will put out, wink, wink).
Anyway, the focus of the Drinking Man's Diet is simple: no more than 60 grams of carbs per day. You're probably well familiar with that language if you knew anyone who did the low-carb diets that were popular earlier in this decade.
Carb-heavy food in moderation, then! Instant results! And since hard liquor is low-to-no-carb, you can drink as much of it as you want! Well, to clarify, as much as "you think is good for you," which of course, could be a lot. And as the booklet points out, "if you can't control your drinking, you should be in Alcoholics Anonymous." Really.
Never mind the fact that a). hard liquor is highly caloric and b). mixers can be high carb. I suppose the drinking man of the early 60s wouldn't have bothered with mixers, though.
If nothing else, this little pamphlet (which sold for a dollar back in the day -- it's literally smaller than a standard mailing envelope, too) gives us a good glimpse of the life of the man-about-town in the early 60s. If you're into Mad Men, you might appreciate it for the kitsch factor. The writing is kind of hilarious, as the pamphlet refers to "one good swinging cocktail party" or, check out this testimony from "Paula P., woman-about-town:"*
"Frankly, I like my cocktail. But I don't like to go sashaying around with rolls of fat pushing their way around the shoulders traps of my evening dresses. ...[Before the diet] my face would get haggard and frighten children. Now ... I don't wear a girdle anymore."
Hotness.
Also, fun fact: the following foods are "man-type:"
meat
fish
cheese
salads (clarification: ones topped with Roquefort dressing, none of that pussy-assed French stuff)
The introduction lays out the purpose of, and the science-ish stuff behind, the Drinking Man's Diet, then the rest of the pamphlet is composed of tables measuring carbohydrates in various quantities of foods. Including the booze.
The diet was quite the phenomenon when it was first published. Time Magazine wrote about the pamphlet in 1965: "the book's contents are a cocktail of wishful thinking, a jigger of nonsense and a dash of sound advice." The Time article quotes the American Medical Association's top nutrition expert as saying that the diet is not scientifically sound and full of errors. Does that sound familiar?
Despite the flaws seen in the diet almost 45 years ago, it experienced a rebirth of sorts in 2004 -- you know, when South Beach and Atkins were peaking. Forbes covered the reissue of the pamphlet (which was offered at a heftier $4.95). Interestingly, Jameson and Williams were noms de plume of one person, Robert Cameron, a "San Francisco bon vivant." Who apparently made quite the bankroll off the initial publication of the pamphlet.
If you are actually interested in making some less retro-hip health-related New Year's resolutions, and are willing to part with your two-martini lunchtime pre-game, check out the National Institute of Health's Weight Loss for Life pamphlets. They are free, and while they lack a certain charm that the Drinking Man's Diet possesses, their advice is generally pretty sound.
1. What did you do in 2009 that you’d never done before?
Lived by myself. Really, never done it before. Was kind of not excited about it at first, but get this: I totally realized I love living by myself. It's like the best thing ever. The only thing I'm missing is proper motivation for getting out of bed in the morning (angry bedmate yelling at me to stop fucking hitting snooze on the alarm clock; timing showers before work with housemates so everyone gets out of the house on time). Whatevs. I can eat dinner in my underwear, buy the kind of toilet paper I like, and most importantly, paint my dining room orange.
Look it is orange.
2. Did you keep your New Year’s resolutions, and will you make more for next year?
I didn't make any -- resolutions aren't just for New Year's. That said, the My 100 project is a goal/resolution for next year. Getting back to running is another one. I seem to remember a time, not too long ago, when I could run a mere three miles without wanting to die. Three miles! Also, another goal is figuring out what the hell I'm doing with my house.
3. Did anyone close to you give birth?
Nope. No new babies. Phew.
4. Did anyone close to you die?
No family members or immediate friends. My best friend lost her father-in-law right before Christmas, though. That counts.
5. What countries (or new places) did you visit?
I didn't do a lot of non-family-related travel in 2009. I'm hoping that'll be different in 2010, but we'll see. I did get to explore Louisville a lot in May (it's a great city) and I've gotten to know Cleveland a lot better.
Cleveland!
6. What would you like to have in 2010 that you lacked in 2009?
Really, how can I answer this? I don't feel like I was hurting for much, which seems weird given how strange and at times, difficult, 2009 was.
7. What date from 2009 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?
New Year's Day 2009 was the day of my Big Breakup. Boy, did January 1 suck a lot. This forthcoming New Year's Day should be much better because I'm going to Melt for lunch with Cleveland Whiteout and some other folks. I did not get Melt last January 1. Already 2010 is looking better!
I can't really pinpoint a lot of dates specifically related to my father's cancer, but basically February through June were a blur of days when I was consumed by what was going on with him.
May 22 was my birthday, one of the best I've ever had, because I was with my family and my dad, post-operation, was able to eat solid food for the first time! It doesn't sound like much, but it felt like an amazing present because he was so overjoyed to be eating a little hamburger at the dinner table. And later that night, it was so cool to sit out on my aunt and uncle's deck drinking milkshakes from Graeter's and eating cupcakes from a schmancy bakery together. We were celebrating my birthday, but really, we were celebrating a lot more.
8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
Professionally, advancing in some organizations I belong to. Personally, working on some self-reflective stuff, branching out socially, rethinking a lot of things that I'd held near and dear for several years, dealing with feelings. Keeping a cool head. Reconnecting with my family.
Overall, honestly? This blog. It's not much to look at but it's gotten me writing again, and I really like doing it.
9. What was your biggest failure?
I have a hard time admitting failure. So we'll go over the categories again.
Professionally: not branching out enough, expanding horizons, making any great career leaps. I maintain the status quo too much, methinks. Not a bad thing in this economy, I guess, but still...
Personally: really? I was a-OK. I mean, I guess the Great Breakup was a failure in some respects, but so much positive has come of it that it's hard to chalk it up that way in the end.
Overall: probably stretching myself too thin periodically. I'm an introvert and need to realize sometimes that I need downtime. Part of the awesomeness of living alone!
10. Did you suffer illness or injury?
I was sick a lot. Immunity was just shot. Bleh.
Injuries: sprained ankle in March in the dumbest way ever (it fell asleep while I was sitting at my desk chair, then I fell on it when I stood up and tried to walk to the bathroom from my office); almost chopped off left thumb during Zuni Chicken incident; cut finger with new immersion blender; slammed right thumb in office door. Yeah, it was a shitty health year.
Just for Wende, here's a gratuitous pic of my fridge moments after the Great Zuni Chicken Knife Incident of 2009:
That's my blood. Ew.
11. What was the best thing you bought?
The dishwasher! Also, living room furniture. And I found a stack of like 50 Gourmets at Half-Price Books for fifty cents apiece the weekend after the closing of the magazine was announced. Sweeeeet.
12. Whose behavior merited celebration?
So many of my good, kind friends, who were amazing when I was wading through crappy-assed waters earlier this year. Also my dad, who has handled being sick with good humor, dignity, and resilience. For the most part. He's entitled to a fair amount of crankiness every once in a while. ;)
13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?
On the personal front, no one who reads this blog, which is a good thing; it's not really worth discussing anyway. One thing I've discovered is my tolerance for bullshit has gotten really thin, and that sometimes, cutting the cord with bad behavior is the best practice. Yes, I'm talking about The Ex.
Otherwise, I dunno. I'm pretty pissed at Joe Lieberman. Also the birthers. I'm almost always angry at Republicans. That never changes.
14. Where did most of your money go?
The HOUSE. Baking supplies. Books. New hairstyles and color. Eyebrow waxes. Ladythings, you know.
15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?
Blogging. Daring Bakers Challenges. Several shows, including Neko Case at Playhouse Square and They Might Be Giants at the Beachland. And I was inexplicably excited about Jonathan Richman and Vic Chesnutt at the Beachland in June. Mostly because, at the time, I wanted to hear Jonathan Richman sing "Abominable Snowman in the Market" (which he didn't) but also because I knew Vic Chesnutt's set would be awesome, which it was. So sad that he passed on Christmas, as his record At the Cut was one of my favorites this year. I'll miss him.
(I did not film that, BTW, although I totally was there).
16. What song will always remind you of 2009?
"People Got a Lotta Nerve" by Neko.
That song, along with "This Tornado Loves You," I listened to constantly from like February through June or July.
17. Compared to this time last year, are you:
i. happier or sadder? Happier. Immensely! ii. thinner or fatter? About the same iii. richer or poorer? Poorer
18. What do you wish you’d done more of?
Sleeping; saving money; housework.
19. What do you wish you’d done less of?
Spending money. Worrying about things I couldn't control.
20. How did you spend Christmas?
It was quiet. I spent Christmas Eve with my dad, and then with my family, and Christmas Day with my dad again. We had roast chicken and dressing for dinner. Very low-key, very calm. Actually a pretty lovely holiday. Both the fall/winter holidays -- Thanksgiving and Christmas -- were really good this year.
None, actually. I'm not sure why that seems surprising to me.
24. What was your favorite TV program?
I don't really watch the teevee.
25. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year?
Hate is a strong word. I feel differently about a lot of people than I did at the end of 2008, but isn't that natural? There are certainly a few [older] friendships that changed dramatically, though. Which is fine.
26. What was the best book you read?
Cookbook: I Know How to Cook. Sumptuous. Still lusting over it and trying to figure out how to put it to best use.
Probably rediscovering that I love live music, I like discovering new bands, and I've missed the Beachland. That said, two new discoveries for 2009: Eagle and Talon and The Blow.
28. What did you want and get?
A dishwasher.
29. What did you want and not get?
A waffle iron. Hint, hint.
30. What was your favorite film of this year?
I loved An Alternative to Slitting Your Wrist, which I saw at the Cleveland International Film Festival back in March. It was seriously uplifting in a non-corny way, and it hit me at just the right time, I think. Recommended!
I really liked Julie and Julia, too, but the Julie parts less than the Julia parts, obviously.
My favorite zombie film of 2009 was either Otto or Dead Snow.
31. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
I turned 31:
I went for a run; took my dad to the doctor to have his trach tube out; relished him eating solid food for the first time in a few weeks; sat in the warm May air, listening to crickets, sharing milkshakes and cupcakes with my father, uncle and aunt. Best Birthday Ever.
32. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?
I have to say even though there were some rotten things that happened this year, it was satisfying, ultimately. I don't feel crushed by anything looking back, and although things like not going through a major breakup or not dealing from a distance with a father with cancer would have made the year easier, so many good things happened in 2009 that I honestly can't say I'm not going into 2010 feeling some degree of satisfaction.
33. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2009?
Dressing better than before. Also, dresses over jeans = hot. I invented that look, but you can steal it if you'd like.
34. What kept you sane?
Prattle and drinks with good people. Exercise, occasionally. Regimented blogging. Quiet time.
35. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?
Meh. Oh wait. Christine probably wants me to say Big Chuck. So. Big Chuck.
36. What political issue stirred you the most?
I honestly should have been more moved by health care, as I grew up without insurance and watched a whole lot of family drama unfold over that. I just felt burned out on it because of the way it was covered in the media, and the way the ridicutards on the right handled it.
37. Who did you miss?
I missed my father a lot when I was in Cleveland and he was in Kentucky. I missed my pal Mark a lot when he moved to Chicago. I missed my friends the Scientists when they moved to Lakewood from the East side.
38. Who was the best new person you met?
This is a hard question to answer because a lot of new people I met in 2009? Read this blog. And you are all awesome.
Therefore I'll go with Crazy Charlotte and Hurricane Olivia, my two newest animal pals:
Only Charlotte belongs to me, but Olivia's daddy keeps threatening to make Miss Puggle come live with me.
39. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2009:
Stay away from hippies.
40. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year:
"Pick up that rock, drink from that lake
I do my best but I'm made of mistakes
Yes, there are things I’m still quite sure of
I love you this hour, this hour today
And heaven will smell like the airport, airport
But I may never get there to prove it
So let's not waste our time thinking how that ain't fair" -- Neko Case, "I'm an Animal."
A quiet week on the food Intertubes. I mean, there was a lot of last-minute buildup to Christmas, but I don't want to bore you with Christmas chatter -- let's move on, shall we?
OK, first, let's take a look back at 2009 in food memes, courtesy of Serious Eats.
Reflection over. Let's look forward to New Year's Eve festivities! What're you doing for New Year's? I hope that it will be safe and fun, and will somehow involve food and drink.
NPR's story on cheese balls inspired me to make Amy Sedaris' Lil' Smoky cheese ball for my aunt's Christmas Eve party. You can't really go wrong with cheese balls -- they are easy to make, easy to transport, and scrumptious.
YumSugar had a slideshow of some pitcher drink recipes for you to try. White wine sangria is awesome!
Slashfood shared some recipes for holiday-appropriate mocktails. You know, if you're the DD, under 21, pregnant, or just don't feel like drinking. Yes, that can happen.
Four Pounds Flour is a Cleveland native! Who knew! And this week she provided her readers with a crawl of some of Cleveland's best pre-Prohibition-era pubs. I've never been to the Flat Iron or the Harbor Inn, but I can attest that the rest of the spots Sarah hit are amazing.
Speaking of Cleveland, Scene Magazine provided a round-up of 2009 in terms of the city's food scene. Summary: everyone still loves Michael Symon, a bunch of decent places closed, ethnic food is getting hot. Good news for some of my faves in 2010: Melt's opening an East side location within generous stumbling distance of Casa Cookbook, and Le Petit Triangle is expanding! Woo-hoo!
You know how I fucked up that gingerbread house assignment for Daring Bakers? Homesick Texan had to go and rub it in with her Gingerbread Alamo!
Cookbooker is billed as LibraryThing for cooks. It's an interactive online community where you list the cookbooks you own, then rate recipes you've tried from each. Brilliant, wish I'd thought of it.
...here are my mini-mincemeat pies. All pre-fabulicious (jarred mincemeat filling, Jiffy pie crust mix), and baked in a muffin tin because as I mentioned, my father doesn't own a pie pan.
I have discussed almost ad nauseum how crappy my holiday baking forays have been this year. First there was the matter of the shitty peppermint bark. Then there were the Martha Stewart dark chocolate cookies that turned to hockey pucks. I had some good luck with German chocolate brownies toward the end of the stretch, but really, Holidays 2009 = a shitstorm of bad baking experiences, overall. And this is the last time I'll complain about it. Let's forget it ever happened, shall we? The bad stuff, I mean.
That baking ennui (for lack of a better term) is part of the reason why this month's Daring Bakers' Challenge, a gingerbread house, caused me such anxiety. While the instructions the fearless leaders, Anna and Y, gave didn't seem overly complicated, I knew a gingerbread house would require some patience and some aesthetic sense. I seem to be wearing a bit thin on both fronts lately.
But I tried. Really. I pumped myself up, silently willing myself to Just DO IT. Because that is how I talk myself into almost any endeavor I know I should follow through on, but don't wanna. I just trash-talk myself until I move my lazy ass out the door to the gym, to a party with strangers, to work. You know.
Anyway, the hosts made gingerbread house construction seem quite simple: all you gotta do is make some dough, cut out some house-y shapes, bake 'em, then stick 'em all together with royal icing or simple syrup. I figured it would take at least a couple days, but I was prepared. Slow and simple wins the race in Daring Bakers Challenges, and even though I haven't a lick of artistic talent, I figured I could make at least a rudimentary gingerbread house that would be Good Enough.
But it was not meant to be.
First of all, my dough was a little...funny. We were given two options, one adapted from a Good Housekeeping recipe for spicy gingerbread dough, and the other adapted from a Scandanavian recipe. I chose the Good Housekeeping recipe because it seemed spicier, and I like my gingerbread spicy and flavorful and bold. No matter that I hadn't really thought through the fact that gingerbread houses are hard to gnaw on.
Anyway, here's the dough in progress.
It didn't seem moist enough, and was lumpy and weird when I put it in the fridge to chill.
When I took it out to roll it, it seemed normal enough but kept cracking.
Cutting out the dough, so far so good:
Coming out of the oven. Oh wait, look it is all crumbly and fucked-up:
Snap.
End result: like a trailer park after a tornado:
So yeah, my construction was structurally unsound, it crumbled, and I didn't have the time, energy, heart, or ingredients to redo everything, so this was a Daring Bakers FAIL. Waaah.
I made regular cutouts with the rest of the gingerbread dough, which were fine:
I wasn't all that satisfied with the gingerbread itself -- too mild, too gummy, if that makes sense -- but it was a better use of the dough than a whole house would have been, at least for me. Because I ate like half a dozen of those bitches.
Don't worry. I'll be back on track next month. I swear. I guess if I learned anything from this month's challenge it's that, with baking, especially super-intricate, end-result-is-beautiful baking, you've got to be patient. I'm sure the gingerbread would have been better had I spent more time working with it. I'm sure my rush to get the house thrown together before my trip home for Christmas led to it crumbling in my hands. You can't rush beauty.
All that said, I'm really impressed with what I've seen from other Daring Bakers so far this month! Check out the Flickr pool -- there are some talented bakers in the ranks, and I salute each and every one of them for rocking out this challenge!
Every single Christmas, my father and I play this game. It starts on Thanksgiving. We're usually sitting in the kitchen and he'll say, "What do you want for Christmas?" I shrug, because I know he's not going to try to shop for me, ever. He tried doing that when I was a teenager, and it almost always ended in tears or fisticuffs. Imagine shopping for bras when you're fifteen with your dad. Ugh.
Anyway, I usually shrug, and then I ask him, "Well, what do you want?" And he says "No, no, I don't want anything, it's enough to have you home." And in the end, he gives me cash and I give him something like slippers if I have to guess or else something he actually wants because the thing about my father? He's really good at dropping hints. I've never in my life been able to figure out whether he drops them on purpose, but some of the best presents I've given him have been a result of him mentioning something off-the-cuff, me buying it, and him being really happy on his birthday, Father's Day, or Christmas.
So this year, I didn't do a present. Frankly, it seems weird to give my father presents at this point for a variety of reasons (he buys whatever he wants anyway) but also because the sentiment of opening presents isn't there anymore. There's a reality that sets in when your parent is ill, one that says things should go on as normal, but honestly, if they're gone in six months you don't want to be the one to brush the dog fur off the camouflage Snuggy and take it home. It seems like stuff is less significant than just being there in person.
That's not to say I didn't start out, like almost everything else I made stabs at this holiday season, without good intentions. My dad was complaining to me that he can't find good American-made handkerchiefs anymore (my father has always carried hankies, always, even when he was working HVAC, even when he would come home with dirt under his fingernails every night).
So I got the brilliant idea to make him some hankies. I found an online tutorial and everything. But the thing about that is, I suck at sewing. So I have a bag of fabric sitting at home in my sunroom, waiting to be turned into something beautiful. I'm sorry, fabric. I'm afraid I can't help you, not right now.
Every year, my dad gets nostalgic at Christmas about mincemeat pie, which was apparently a staple of my grandmother's holiday table. You know, mincemeat, the stuff from Dickens novels that pretty much no one under the age of 60 has ever tasted (I know some of you have, I'm exaggerating). It contains chopped meat and spices, and like, apples or something. It is not something that seems hip and fancy enough for the 21st century. This is why you don't find it in supermarket bakeries, and why a can of mincemeat filling costs $6.99 at the grocery.
So this morning, I headed out to the Kroger to shop for ingredients for my and Dad's Christmas dinner (roast chicken), a cheese ball I decided to make for my auntie's Christmas Eve shindig tonight, and some other stuff (a toothbrush, since I thought I had left one at Dad's house on Thanksgiving, but hadn't.
And as I was wandering the aisles at Kroger, I thought about what I could do for my father that would be nice and food-related, besides making Christmas dinner. We had just talked about mincemeat pies earlier, and this look of nostalgia had crept across Dad's face. I mean, he really loved that stuff, apparently -- he generally only gets that look on his face when he's remembering my grandma's or Mamaw's cooking.
I checked the bakery, which was of course done in vain, as they only had pumpkin and sweet potato pies with dry crusts and too-sweet fillings. No, if I was going to give my father the gift of mincemeat pie this year, I would have to make it myself.
Which either meant from scratch or from a jar.
Guess which option I picked. I thought about totally from scratch, but every single recipe I found online was complicated, and I don't feel like going complicated this Christmas.
I'm not even making a homemade crust, because even though that's one of the most ridiculously easy things to do, I'm not feelin' it. Instead I bought Jiffy pie crust mix, which is sorta homemade. I mean, I have to add water and roll it out and stuff.
Also the mincemeat stuff has to be mixed with egg yolk and milk. Mmmm!
I knew I'd done right when my father was helping me unpack the groceries and he pulled out the jar of mincemeat. He smiled big, which was nice, because he's feeling bad and sort of cranky this visit.
And yeah, I'll try it. But only because it'll make my Dad happy.
This week's cookbook is Caroline Elizabeth's The Dysfunctional Christmas Cookbook: Rantings & Ravings of a Southern Cook. It's a funny little spiral-bound cookbook that seems to have been self-published, as it is blissfully free of copy editing, typeset in a font that looks suspiciously like Comic Sans (and includes some great clip art Santas), and there is almost no information on it anywhere on the Internet. I think I might have scooped up the last copy available for sale on Amazon. So I don't know the real back story on Caroline Elizabeth and her so-called dysfunctional family, whom she writes at great length about to introduce us to her recipes.
The introduction sets the scene as Elizabeth introduces herself to us. she's Southern, she works at the Welfare Office, and "studied Psychology 101 the the Community College." In a weird way, she ties her work with the freaks at the welfare office, including one Uncle Henry, her training from the community college, and Christmas cooking all together. Yeah, it's a leap. Yeah, it seems too weird to be real, but that said, it probably is for real, based on the grammar errors in the introduction alone.
"Christmas isn't Christmas without FOOD," she writes. Yeah. The recipes that follow are a hodgepodge of cookies, cakes, pies, sweets, drinks, salads, and other dishes ostensibly placed on the holiday table by Elizabeth's wacky, effed-up family. Honestly, some of the anecdotes that lead in to the recipes are a little long and trite, but the recipes have clever titles, like Down in the Dumps Cobber, Underachievers Salad (Lackluster Cranberries), and Cultural Diversity Fudge.
Other highlights:
There's a recipe for Veg-All Casserole. You know, Veg-All. The gross canned vegetables.
Also, there is a recipe for raccoon: "Macho Maniacs and Coons." Oh good lord, maybe this woman is for real after all, because who in their right mind uses the term "coon?" Basically you clean your raccoon, stuff it with apples and onions, surround it with sweet potatoes, cover it with bacon, and roast. I would have tried this, you know, but the raccoons in Cleveland Heights are wiley. Also, gross, no way am I eating a raccoon.
The most perplexing recipe (yes, I was perplexed by something more than the raccoon recipe) by far was the one for Man-Bait Cookies, which Elizabeth credits to "Sally Sue." How do you catch a man? With sex or food. Duh!*
So Elizabeth and Sally Sue devised this recipe, and you know what? It is the Nestle Toll House recipe. Um, you did not devise this "bait," you lifted it from the back of a bag of chocolate chips!
For the most part, The Dysfunctional Christmas Cookbook belongs to the same genre as the Ruby Ann Boxcar book I profiled last week: it tries too hard to be funny. That said, it's not a horrible little book, it's just there's nothing super-special about it. Besides the raccoon recipe.
Big-mouthed dirty East side lady. An ex-hipster information worker/creative person at heart who chases cats, bakes dubious pastries, and [often] spews ill-formed opinions. Backward and in sensible heels.
