This is a card I found a year ago in a Brooklyn paper and card shop. Though I tend to mostly bake cookies, I’d be interested to see the recipe she’s working from. Where did she find it? The Malleus Maleficarum? I studied that text–the “legal” text used by the church to prosecute witches–in college and it includes some of the best dick jokes I’ve come across this side of a Judd Apatow movie. When is it going to be adapted into a movie? Film development execs–call me!
Archive for ‘The Anti-Girlfriend Cookbook’
I’ve been reading a lot of Sloane Crosely lately ever since the anonymous book fairy in my building left her first book of essays in the mailbox room. (Whoever you are, I love you! If I leave a tooth or dollar under my pillow, will you leave me a copy of Miranda July’s stories?)
In “Smell This,” an essay that appeared in I Was Told There’d Be Cake, Crosely describes her efforts to bake a tart for a dinner party she was throwing for her friends. But before she got to the actual baking, she imagines what would happen if pastries could reproduce sexually:
Unless you are a professional, you will find the tart to be a high-maintenance, unforgiving whistle-blower of a pastry. If they could sprout sexual organs and mate, they’d go extinct on the jungle floor. Chocolate chip cookies, impossible to fuck up, would breed like deer. Tarts are the red pandas of the baking Amazon. They are all about what you’re not allowed to do. The crust alone: don’t knead it too much too fast, don’t sprinkle too much water, not that much butter, cool it first, don’t cook it too long. This is a polite pastry. A civilized pastry.
First, while I adore this passage in particular and the book as a whole, it is possible to fuck up chocolate chip cookies. Screwed up versions of this dessert abound–they’re simply called “crunchy.” Personally, I think that crunchy cookies are blasphemous and a waste of butter and chips. The only kind I bake and will accept are the chewy ones.
As for tarts–I’ve never tried to make one so I will just have to trust Crosley’s assertions of their fussiness. From her description, the tart sounds like a lady–so we’re talking lights off, missionary style sex. The tart is a prudish bitch.
Thanksgiving is certainly not a sexy holiday. Stuffing oneself with turkey, yams and pie is hardly an attractive activity, and the post-meal stuffed gut doesn’t go well with skinny jeans. (Or really, any jeans.)
Thankfully, most of us end up at our family’s homes where we are unlikely to meet someone worth trying to impress so I don’t have to bother with deodorant or matching socks tomorrow. My nieces don’t care if I smell funny while I play Barbies with them.
But for those of for whom Thanksgiving is yet another day at the meet (or should I say turkey?) market, here are some more pages out of Ruth G. Satzman’s book, To Cook a Bachelor’s Goose.
“The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach,” or so the saying goes.
Well, I’ve tried that tack and even though I bake incredible chewy chocolate chip cookies (ask any of my friends), this hasn’t really accomplished all that much other than making my friends and former students incredibly happy, which is actually a pretty worthwhile end in and of itself.
Anyway, a good friend dutifully photographed several pages of To Cook a Bachelor’s Goose, a cookbook by Ruth G. Satzman from 1969, thinking that this would be exactly what the Anti-Girlfriend wouldn’t (or would if she was feeling particularly snarky) use to get a man.
Let’s take a quick look at the introduction to this tome:
Catch your bachelor with a winsome smile, and he’ll resent the first frown you toss him. Corner him with clever chatter, and he’ll be hopelessly bored when you’re in a meditative mood. Wow him with a fabulous figure and you’ll panic if you gain a pound. But catch a man with creative cooking, and he’s caught forever…
Ah, because the worst thing you can be as a woman is inconsistent. If he met you in a smiley mood, you must always smile. You’re a lady, which means you cannot have more than 1-2 emotional states. Remember that!
So if a day comes when you wonder why you aren’t married, look in the kitchen, not the mirror. Then bait your own brand of tender trap with the recipes you’ll find on the following pages.
Over the next couple of weeks, I’ll put up more of the scanned and photographed pages, courtesy of the fabulous Tova S., so you can try your hand at some of the recipes and report back if they work on the guy you just met on OkCupid.
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