"Joy of Cooking" news and stories

• You'd probably think that newer versions of Joy of Cooking would include healthier recipes ... but that's not the case. The average calorie count rose 63% between 1936 and 2006 -- read more.
• Mark Bittman's new spin on food, and getting people off the "meatarian" habit.
• Upper Canada Cheese's Comfort Cream -- perfect when aged and gooey.
• Chef David Lee talks about the Chinese New Year and shares a recipe for Ginger-Steamed Wild Black Bass with Stir-Fried Chinese Greens.

While grabbing an image for my Globe and Mail post, I came across the attached picture from the Joy of Cooking in 1953.

My, how times change.

At the very least, I guess squeamish cooks can be thankful that the book chose to use illustrations and not actual pictures. I mean, look at the squirrel images! Take yar thar boot, step on that tail, and PULL! At least they let him keep his "pants." I suppose that's dignified skinning.

At least the rabbit is a white-eyed zombie with a creepy look that certainly cuts down on cuteness.

Thanks, atduskgreg!

Some things are just plain wrong. Tight-rolled jeans. Ketchup on eggs. The cat lady. And now: The Joy of Cooking frozen foods.

Even if you disagree about the ketchup, you've got to agree that one of the most brand-diluting stunts in eons is word that "The Joy of Cooking" is now being used to sell new frozen foods. "The Joy of Cooking cookbook has brought dinnertime joy to kitchens since 1931. Today its classic recipes serve as the inspiration for the new line of family-style frozen products." Baked taters. Chicken Florentine. Multi-Grain and Cheddar Ciabatta Rolls. Vegetable Lo Mein.

Pardon my French, but this is f**king ridiculous. What a way to taint a good name. Joy of Cooking is one of the big classics -- the book that inspires new cooks and gets people making things from scratch. It should not be a gateway to dinner laziness and selling foods that you don't cook yourself. There's a reason that Joy of Reheating isn't a book. It doesn't have the same ring, the same magic, the same respectability.

Is there anyone out there who can whip up some magic mojo and bring Irma Rombauer back to life so she can kick the crap out of these people? I'm embarrassed for her.

Despite the fact that I love cookbooks and continue to acquire them at an alarming pace, I don't actually use them much (beyond the pleasure of leafing through them). More often than not, when I'm looking for a recipe, I turn to the internet. After I've found three or four serviceable recipes, I'll cobble together something that most closely approximates the thing I've got in my head.

It's a method that works, but sometimes, I find myself longing for the pre-internet days, when people kept a couple core cookbooks and continually tweaked the recipes, noting their changes in the margins. I fear that the days of much-loved cookbooks (like my mom's Joy of Cooking that is pictured above) are nearly gone and the cooks of my generation won't have a tangible reference at the end of their cooking days.

I especially regret this change because of the pleasure that can be gotten from consulting a trusted cookbook. When it came time to make the cornbread stuffing for Christmas dinner this year, I used the Quick Cornbread recipe from the book above. After the stuffing was completed and dinner was a pleasant memory, I returned to the cookbook to make a note that for the future, the cornbread could use some additional salt if it was going to be part of stuffing (I also added a little herbs? to remind myself that adding some chopped rosemary or sage to the batter would also be a nice thing). It's a comforting thing to know that I've left all who consult that Joy a little helpful cornbread stuffing info.

How do the rest of you document your cooking successes and recipe adaptations?

It would seem that providence has brought me a country ham. Upon reading a Facebook posting of mine last night, crowing about (okay, showing off), my haul of whole hog BBQ from Ed Mitchell's The Pit in Raleigh, a dear pal inquired as to the possibility of my acquiring a ham for him while I was still in North Carolina. My husband Douglas and I were planning hitting the road at an unholy hour this morning, so I gave a Chapel Hill Harris Teeter the ol' Tarheel try 'round about midnight. Plenty of Harris' She Crab soup, Duke's mayo, Cheerwine and Peanut Butter Moon Pies to be had, but not so much with the artisanal pig products. Well shoot! I'd tried.