My favorite book about entertaining is, without a doubt, Elsa Maxwell’s How to Do It, but the Better Homes and Gardens Guide to Entertaining has its moments too. Published in 1969, it covers everything from picking the right guests (”a party revolving [...]]]> Better Homes and Gardens Guide to Entertaining. New York: Meredith Books, 1969.

My favorite book about entertaining is, without a doubt, Elsa Maxwell’s How to Do It, but the Better Homes and Gardens Guide to Entertaining has its moments too. Published in 1969, it covers everything from picking the right guests (”a party revolving around touch football would be inappropriate for your elderly friends”) to the setting (”You can even decorate the garage, carport, or attic, for parties if you wish”) and, of course, the menu (”if you’ve invited foreign guests–their religion will often determine what they can eat”). Relentlessly upbeat, it promises a “comprehensive treatment of all elements of entertaining so that you may find the answer to any hostessing problem.” The solutions they suggest to these problems resemble, at best, the set of a Douglas Sirk movie and, at worst, a Jell-O and maraschino cherry fueled nightmare. I think this table setting falls squarely in the center of that continuum:  

I sort-of like the placemat (it’s cheerful!), but the aggressively painted egg-carton flower arrangement is a little too much for me.

I *love* anything that touches on teens and their blossoming hostessing skills. The Guide doesn’t disappoint, noting that “[s]picy, hot, unusual foods seem to be teen favorites.” Their suggested menu: Tamale Hero Sandwiches, “pickle-sickles,” and ice cream. Yum.

The menus for the adults aren’t much better. The meal below is, as promised, “colorful and eye-appealing,” but I have some doubts about the flavor combinations. I would probably secretly enjoy that ham/cheese/mushroom/cornflake casserole (the dishes aren’t labeled, so I’m guessing about the contents), but I feel less certain about the artichoke and mandarin orange salad, and more than a little worried about that (canned?) cherry parfait.

Aside from a delicious-sounding recipe for Swiss Baked Eggs (bacon, light cream, Swiss cheese, eggs) and some truly lovely mid-century modern furniture lingering in the background, I’m afraid that The Better Homes and Gardens Guide to Entertaining hasn’t aged so well. But if you, like me, have a soft spot for the garish and optimistic hostessing styles of the 1960s, this book is a treasure trove.

The editors of Better Homes and Gardens are responsible for many other books, including the famous “Plaid” cookbook, now in its 12th edition.  

The lacquered lobster on the cover was all it took. I was unable to resist buying Jim Fobel’s Beautiful Food  when I found it in a used bookstore several years ago. To its credit (as promised on the jacket), it has been a “constant source of [...]]]> Fobel, Jim. Beautiful Food. New York: Van Nostrand Reinhold, 1983.

The lacquered lobster on the cover was all it took. I was unable to resist buying Jim Fobel’s Beautiful Food  when I found it in a used bookstore several years ago. To its credit (as promised on the jacket), it has been a “constant source of delight and inspiration to [me]” since then. Possibly more delight than inspiration–I’ve never actually made any of the recipes, which range from the merely fussy to the totally insane. The premise of the cookbook is that “meals in minutes” must be vanquished, and that food should be as much (or more) about appearance as taste. While I’m all for lovely presentation, Fobel sometimes took things a bit too far, in a completely charming sort of way. On Thanksgiving, for instance, he recommended dressing up the turkey “with a tailor-made pastry outfit,” otherwise known as a tuxedo:

(Recognizing that it might be difficult to freehand those spats, he was kind enough to include a template.)

 As Fobel mentioned several times, his background as a painter and potter (in San Francisco, in the 60s) informed his ideas about food. He saw his dishes as “finished edible creations,” fertile ground for experimentation. Unsurprisingly, his antipasto jars and Bas-Relief Oat Bread were a sight to behold.  The Mosaic Shrimp-and-Salmon Mousse was especially elaborate and exciting:

 As with most of the recipes, the mousse was accompanied by helpful diagrams (like this one) and detailed structural advice. Fobel seems to have recognized that his Erector Set-approach to cooking needed ample documentation.

One last treat: the author photo. I LOVE the cats.  

All in all, a delightful, if not so useful, cookbook. And it’s going for $.20 on Amazon! A steal, if you ask me.

Fobel wrote at least nine other cookbooks, including Jim Fobel’s Old-Fashioned Baking Book, Jim Fobel’s Big Flavors, Jim Fobel’s Casseroles, and Jim Fobel’s Diet Feasts.

(Housekeeping note: I finally put all of my cookbooks on LibraryThing.) 

Cookbooks that focus on one ingredient are often published by companies with a vested interest in promoting filberts, or mayonnaise, or what have you. According to Amazon, Be Bold with Bananas was produced for Fruit Distributors Ltd, Banana Importers of Wellington, New Zealand. When a company trying [...]]]> Be Bold with Bananas. New York: Crescent Books, [1972?].

Cookbooks that focus on one ingredient are often published by companies with a vested interest in promoting filberts, or mayonnaise, or what have you. According to Amazon, Be Bold with Bananas was produced for Fruit Distributors Ltd, Banana Importers of Wellington, New Zealand. When a company trying to sell bananas decides to put together a cookbook about bananas, all sense of perspective apparently goes out the window, with predictably hilarious results. The basic premise of the book is that bananas will improve and enliven every meal you cook, from dinner (banana meat loaf, anyone?) to dessert (perhaps you’d like the banana jelly custard?). Things really begin to fall apart, though, with the photography:

I’ve seen a lot of questionable food photography, but this “banana candle” is in a league of its own. What, you have to wonder, were the editors thinking? Did they somehow (and it’s hard to imagine this) fail to notice the incredibly phallic nature of that banana? Was it some sort of elaborate practical joke? Did they actually think it looked nice? Why anyone would want or need to make banana candles is a question for another day. The recipe, should you want to try it at home:

3 bananas
2 tablespoons lemon juice
6 pineapple rings
2 tablespoons mayonnaise
3 glacé cherries

Halve the bananas crosswise, dip in lemon juice and place each half, end uppermost, in a pineapple ring. Drip mayonnaise down the sides of the bananas.
Using a toothpick, fix half a cherry on top of each banana. It will resemble a burning candle in its holder. Place each “candle” on a small plate, lined with lettuce leaves.
Orange slices can be used instead of pineapple rings.
Serves 6.

Are bananas and mayonnaise even edible together? Are they meant to be? None of this is made clear. Instead, the authors move blithely along to other banana delights: banana paella; potato and banana nests; salad mould (featuring green peas, pineapple, and banana, all suspended in gelatin); banana marshmallow; banana jelly; iced banana; nine types of banana cake; four kinds of banana tart; and three different kinds of banana chutney. The tone of the book is upbeat, encouraging readers to try the banana sambal (”Something new at a barbecue! Why not try it next time?”), the caramel banana (”It is popular with children!”), and biriani (”a particularly tasty dish!”). The authors REALLY want you to try cooking with bananas, that much is obvious.

The back of the book promises “easy-to-prepare recipes [that] will garnish your table, delight your palate and turn your mealtimes into truly festive occasions.” Though I remain a little dubious about the “delight your palate” claim, these recipes are nothing if not festive. Banana candles would delight the guests at almost any dinner party, I imagine, if not in quite the way that the authors intended.

More banana books: Everyday Banana Recipes, Bananas Take a Bow, The Chiquita Banana Book, and The Banana Lover’s Cookbook.

Bonus: A frighteningly comprehensive banana bibliography.