Recipe #1: Oreo Cake

Now this is the way to open a cookbook. A lesser volume – one written by an actual chef, say – would likely start off with some sort of appetizer, maybe an arugula and elaeagnus berry canapé with a Béarnaise reduction sauce… but not here! You think Republicans do arugula? (Do you even think they do acute accents?) Nope! If being sort-of Libertarian includes jettisoning any notion of saving dessert for last – who needs the ministrations of some prim, elitist dietician? – then I’m almost ready to sign up.

Put it this way: Would the Michelle Obama Cookbook even include an Oreo dessert, much less start with one? Don’t bet your skinny jeans on it.

But first, to smash some Oreos.

Just because it’s 2012

Those would be special, 2012-only Birthday Cake Oreos, all decorated out to commemorate one hundred years of chocolate sandwich cookie goodness. (So the debut of Oreos was contemporaneous with the Titanic disaster. Who knew? Maybe Mrs. John Jacob Astor IV consoled herself with a cold goblet of milk and a silver tray piled with Oreos.) Peggy Paul notes in her recipe: “I use double stuffed [sic],” but I thought I’d commemorate the year Ron Paul is making his most prolonged grab for the brass ring yet by using these 2012-specific cookies.

These commemorative Oreos won’t stay fresh forever

It’s a pretty simple recipe, chock full of sugar and fats, as most worthwhile desserts are wont to be.

The ingredients

The cake basically is supported on a crumbled Oreo crust, and the commemorative centenary sprinkles certainly stood out amidst the brown crumbles.

A break from monochrome Oreos

After that, it was the layering of the gloppy stuff: cream cheese mixture, chocolate pudding, Cool Whip.

Careful layering

“Decorate with slivers of chocolate or crushed cookies,” saith the recipe, but was there even a choice? If I’m going to go Oreo I’m going to go all the way Oreo.

I probably could’ve crumbled the Oreo topping more finely

The result? I let the cake cool in the refrigerator (as instructed), but perhaps not as much as optimum (but there’s always subsequent portions for that). The pieces cut with a plastic spatula held together well enough.

Pretty together

And they found favor with most of my family, myself included. “Just like a regular Oreo pie,” it was pointed out to me. It is a rich dessert. If anything, it was maybe a touch too sweet, but I wonder how much the special-flavor Oreos are responsible for that. (Probably no worse than Double Stuf would be.) To me, the big pan of it brought to mind nothing so much as the even bigger trays of gloppy desserts to be had at the dessert counters of Golden Corral… and I mean that in the most appreciative, jam-another-spoonful-into-your-stuffed-belly way.

So: this venture started with a most functional, no-sugar-barred markedly sweet dessert, liked by one and all who tried it. It’s clear the Ron Paul family is doing its sugar-laden best to ingratiate itself with ours. They’re off to a good start – culinary, if not political – with this.

Lesson learned: Gather ye commemorative cookies while ye may.

Rating: 90 out of 100 notional birthday candles

Intro

“boudin sausage”?

What I hope to get into here is, mainly, a bit of fun, as I can’t take the Ron Paul Family Cookbook entirely seriously. Who could? It seems such an anomaly. That’s one thing I like about it.

I’m not out to ridicule the Ron Paul Family Cookbook – I actually find it quite charming that a major-party would-be presidential candidate would, in this day and age, (partially) raise funds for his campaign by selling such a humble, homey booklet. Would that all the candidates did the same! Would that they all – dare to dream! – only raise money by selling such trifles. Take that, Citizens United!

I ought to dispense with the political considerations forthwith: I live in Texas, so my vote in the upcoming presidential election will have exactly null effect. I don’t expect to vote for Representative Paul, or any other Republican. (I’ve almost always been out of step with how most everyone else around me votes, no matter where I’ve lived. Most often, the people I vote for lose. You’d think I’d be used to it by now.)

I am not now, nor have I ever been, a member of any political party: I am, in the pollsters’ parlance, an independent. (Not that anyone has ever polled me on my opinions). Republicans are big on stirring in faith with politics, but the closest I myself come to that is by taking it on faith that no one wants to hear about my politics. They’d make for boring reading. So: though it’s inspired by a political artifact, I don’t intend there to be a lot of political opining in this blog… only as much as levity warrants.

I know, I know: By purchasing my copy of the Ron Paul Family Cookbook, I contributed to the campaign of a Republican, something I’m not otherwise known to do. (But for a copy of a Warm Sauteed Bananas recipe it was worth it.) I mostly disagree with Ron Paul, albeit less than I do most other Republicans (though, about the racist and otherwise bigoted ravings in his past newsletters, I can only strongly state that it is, at best, inexcusable for him not to have known better), and the points with which I do agree with him (not supporting a marriage amendment to the federal Constitution; dispensing with the war on drugs; opposing the so-called Patriot Act, wanting to bring the troops home) basically ensure he will never be a Presidential candidate in the Republican party. No one holding those positions could be – in his lifetime, anyway. (Dare to further dream!)

So… since it’s not mainly political, I intend for this blog to be mainly culinary. Though… that could be too fancy a word for it, and for my attitude toward cooking in general. Food-oriented, let’s say – a more aptly humble term. I do enjoy cooking, but day-to-day I don’t set out to cook anything particularly complicated. I’ve got (lots of) other things to do. So I tend to keep my meal preparation on the simple side. (It’s telling that when my father told me I could have just about any of his extensive collection of cookbooks it didn’t even occur to me to take his copy of Mastering the Art of French Cooking. [I did, however, openly covet his copy of Mr. Food Cooks Like Mama, with which he wouldn’t part.]) Do people still use the word “gourmet”? Whatever they’re calling it nowadays, I’m not it.

If nothing else, this cooking venture should lead me to present new dishes to my family.

And it will be the other members of my family to judge many of them, as I’m happily vegetarian, and not even the Ron Paul Family Cookbook could inspire me to want to eat the fish or meat dishes. I’ll gamely cook them, though (as I often cook non-vegetarian meals for my family). For the vegetarian dishes, I’ll include my own assessment in their rankings.

I have decided to follow the recipes in the Ron Paul Family Cookbook as closely as possible (with the sometime exception of fractioning some of the higher-yield ones). I will resist my usual urge to “healthify” the recipes: I won’t use whole wheat flour if the recipe simply calls for “flour”, for instance. (While doing so would be technically accurate, I’m just assuming it’s not what the Ron Paul family would do.) And much as I love the big ol’ jar of coconut oil sitting in my pantry, if a recipe calls for Crisco I’ll just see to it that I make my first-ever purchase of the canned shortening. I want to get the full effect of the recipes, to get the dishes as the recipes’ authors intend them to be.

So that’s the what and why. This little project is being fun already! Get me started cooking!

Idea

Inspiration

You know how there was this food blog? And in it this married woman in New York City sets out to make all the recipes in Julia Child’s Mastering the Art of French Cooking, and writes about it all? And along the way she happens upon lessons of Life and Love and Living As A Hip Young Person In The City? You know, and it becomes really famous? Meryl Streep starred in the movie.

Well, maybe I could do the same thing, only using the Ron Paul Family Cookbook – surely as influential a culinary volume as any of our time. I think I’ve got the kitchen skills to pull this off. There’s a Walmart only three miles from my house, so getting all the exotic ingredients shouldn’t be a problem. I, a married suburban middle-class shlub, could start at the beginning and work my way through each recipe in turn, and see what lessons in Love and Life and Abolishing The Fed I encounter along the way. And, to see if my family becomes quasi-Libertarian (if not outright Republican) by the time the last morsel of Creole Praline Yam Casserole is consumed. 2012 seems a good year to start this.

Adam Scott could play me in the movie.