Relay-Version: version B 2.10 5/3/83; site utzoo.UUCP Posting-Version: version B 2.10.1 6/24/83; site allegra.UUCP Path: utzoo!linus!decvax!harpo!floyd!whuxlb!pyuxll!eisx!npoiv!npois!hogpc!houxm!hocda!spanky!burl!sb1!ll1!otuxa!we13!ihnp4!cbosgd!mhuxi!mhuxt!eagle!allegra!don From: don@allegra.UUCP Newsgroups: net.philosophy Subject: Existentialism Message-ID: <1725@allegra.UUCP> Date: Sun, 7-Aug-83 18:36:17 EDT Article-I.D.: allegra.1725 Posted: Sun Aug 7 18:36:17 1983 Date-Received: Mon, 8-Aug-83 14:31:28 EDT Organization: Bell Labs, Murray Hill Lines: 52 The Horrible Cookbook Although I had slept late Saturday, 30 minutes of vigorous exercise and the reading of a book of stories by J. P. Sartre left me feeling wide awake and rather smug. The next big event of the day was dinner, something I always look forward to with enthusiasm. I decided to give in to the sudden urge to eat pancakes, and I rushed into the kitchen. Knowing that I was about to get my heart's desire gave me a rush of euphoria, and I had to suppress a giggle. We had several brands of mix in the cupboards, but they tend to produce flat, doughy pancakes. I knew we had flour and baking powder, but I didn't have a proper recipe. It was then that I remembered my housemate's cookbook which we never used. I got it out; a collection of home recipes submitted by women belonging to some club in Louisiana. Ah... some of the best food in the country can be found there, so I quickly looked up pancakes and found this: 1 oz. bread 1/4 c. skim milk 1 egg 2 pkg. Sweet & Low 1/2 tsp. vanilla Blend all ingredients together and "fry" in a Pam sprayed pan. Serve with dietetic pancake syrup. I was stupefied! I paged though the book a little and found things like chocolate pies made from Cool Whip and melted candy bars, but I kept coming back to the pancake recipe. Like the day I found our pet cat in the road with its cute little head run over, I was transfixed and nauseated by this brutal confrontation with Being and Existence. The image of mashing bread in skim milk to make batter was sickening. Needless to say, I was completely put off pancakes. My next thought was, 'what kind of woman would serve crap like this to her family', but the hatred welling up in me was suddenly choked as I pictured her. She was the Archetypical Mother walking towards the dinner table, her family basking in her maternal love and occasionally eyeing the casserole she carried with apprehension. For these children, life was good, but meals were strange encounters with the Absurd. Like helpless characters trapped in a Kafka story, they would watch their mother's secret smile as she unveiled a weird creation of hotdogs and pearl tapioce. I remembered how my father and I suffered after my mother discovered Hamburger Helper. No, it was not the woman's fault, it was the culture she was immersed in. This horrible cookbook was the first truly honest American cookbook. A person from France or Germany might now experience the bizarre petrochemical cuisine that is a part of our everyday life here. The disire for instant gratification was to blame! I closed the book and sighed. Then I rung up for a pizza.