Brief infatuation with From Mr. Bingle’s Kitchen aside (the recipe for fruit pizza was and is awesome), I never had much interest in children’s cookbooks. I was a strictly Better Homes and Gardens kind of girl. (I have a weakness for binders, not [...]]]> Oliver, Michel. La Cuisine Est Un Jeu D’Enfants. Paris: Plon, 1963.

Brief infatuation with From Mr. Bingle’s Kitchen aside (the recipe for fruit pizza was and is awesome), I never had much interest in children’s cookbooks. I was a strictly Better Homes and Gardens kind of girl. (I have a weakness for binders, not to mention plaid.) From what I could tell I wasn’t missing much, just a lot of knife-less, stove-less, fun-less recipes. My position has softened a bit lately. I’ve found a few good books (see Alice Waters, Marion Cunningham, Heston Blumenthal), and at least one great one: Michel Oliver’s La Cuisine Est Un Jeu d’Enfants*. It has whimsical illustrations, ambitious recipes (coq au vin, cheese soufflé), and an introduction by Jean Cocteau. I would have *loved* this book when I was eight. Take, for instance, this recipe for Lapin à la Moutarde:

I like the idea of this refined, bib-wearing rabbit having a mustard snack in preparation for becoming dinner. If the rabbit already loves mustard, why not slather him in it? As this recipe suggests, Oliver’s definition of children’s food was generous. He kept the ingredients and the steps to a minimum, but the flavors were complex (in a traditional French kind of way) and he wasn’t afraid to involve knives or an oven.

If your French (like mine) is a little lacking, there is also a lovely English translation, called Cooking is Child’s Play, by Charlotte Turgeon. The entire book is reproduced in the original French, with monochrome English translations after each recipe. Like this, for our friend the rabbit:

The translation includes a small note at the top about buying quartered, frozen rabbit if whole, fresh rabbits are not available. This is apparently not a problem when the recipe is in French.

One last picture, because I love this chicken and his swimsuit. (English version here.)

Also by Michel Oliver: La Cuisine Est Un Jeu De Grands Enfants, La Patisserie Est Un Jeu D’Enfants

*Apologies for the somewhat crappy scanning. This book is HUGE, and my poor scanner couldn’t handle it.

Written by F. T. Marinetti, The Futurist Cookbook was published in 1932 in Italy. The book aimed to bring the tenets of Futurism into the kitchen, via “aerofood” served at meals with grandiose names like the “Synthesis of Italy Dinner” and the [...]]]> Marinetti, Fillippo Tommaso. The Futurist Cookbook. Trans. Suzanne Brill. San Francisco: Bedford Arts, 1989.

Written by F. T. Marinetti, The Futurist Cookbook was published in 1932 in Italy. The book aimed to bring the tenets of Futurism into the kitchen, via “aerofood” served at meals with grandiose names like the “Synthesis of Italy Dinner” and the “Get-Up-to-Datee.” Marinetti had a special vitriol for pasta; he felt it made the Italians sluggish and complacent. He proposed a radical new cuisine, based on the idea of food as art rather than food as sustinence. Lesley Chamberlain, in her introduction to the cookbook, argues that Marinetti’s proposal was, in fact, “one of the best artistic jokes of the century.” The thrust of the book does seem to be more about performance than consumption, but serious or not, it’s certainly good fun.

The names of the dishes are all fantastic. Some of my favorites: Tasty Equator + North Pole; Like a Cloud; Futurist Risotto with Cape Gooseberries; Carnaleap; More-Less-By-Division; Fisticuff Stuff; Manandwomanatmidnight; Strawberry Breasts; Senate of the Digestion; Pocket Book Turnips; and, of course, Carrot + Trousers = Professor. A few of the recipes are also accompanied by helpful little illustrations, like the Tennis Chop below:

I’m also fond of this illustration for the Elasticake. I think the prune looks like a tiny beret:

The recipes are, on the whole, more lyrical than useful, more focused on the placement and consumption of the ingredients than on their taste. For example:

Words-In-Liberty
(formula by the Futurist Aeropoet Escadamè)

Three sea dates, a half-moon of red watermelon, a thicket of radicchio, a little cube of Parmesan, a little sphere of gorgonzola, 8 tiny balls of caviare, 2 figs, 5 amaretti di Saronno biscuits: all arranged neatly on a large bed of mozzarella, to be eaten, eyes closed, letting one’s hands wander here and there, while the great painter and word-in-liberty poet Depero recites his famous song ‘Jacopson’.

It all sounds so round and lovely, but I can’t imagine it would actually be a nice snack. Nor would most of the dishes; but they do make for excellent reading.

More by Marinetti: The Futurist Manifesto, The Untameables, Futurismo e Fascismo, and Mafarka the Futurist.