Culinary Delights

I love cookbooks, old and new. My collection fills an entire bookcase, and I am nowhere near finished with buying them. I justify this excess by reminding myself that I do use them, both for cooking and for reading cover to cover, like novels.

Lately I've been reading my copy of "The Joy of Cooking." It was originally published in 1931, but mine is the updated 1964 version. It features a lot of really good, basic recipes and most hold up well today. A few of them, however, left me either scratching my head or suppressing my gag reflex, like . . .

• Peppers Stuffed with Creamed Oysters (What, oysters aren't slimy enough? You have to cream them on top of it?)

• Kidney Nuggets (Con: Requires four lamb kidneys. Pro: Also calls for eight slices of bacon!)

• Tongue in Aspic ("A fine-looking dish.")

• Rollmops (Herring fillets layered with capers and gherkins, steeped in the fridge for 10 days and served cold.)

• Head Cheese ("Clean teeth with stiff brush; remove ears, brain, eyes, snout and most of the fat.")

• Cannibal Mound (Sounds worse that it really it; it's actually steak tartare.)

There are also detailed instructions (some with drawings!) on how to prepare pigeons, opossum, woodchucks, bears, beavers and muskrats. And did you know that, according to the authors, roasted squirrel is just exquisite served over polenta with a walnut gravy??

American Idols

This week I've been watching VH-1s "100 Greatest Teen Stars" countdown. It's a lot of fun to see how everyone has aged since their glory days. Most of the women fared pretty well. Phoebe Cates is still drop-dead gorgeous, and Melissa Sue Anderson and Lynn-Holly Johnson are quite lovely. I was happy to see two of my faves, Deborah Foreman and PJ Soles, doing well.

The men were a mixed bag. Some of the dorkier looking ones, like Patrick Dempsey, eventually grew into their faces. But a lot of the pretty boys are not looking so hot. My first crush, Shaun Cassidy, appears awfully hardened these days compared to his smiley, feathery '70s goodness. Christopher Atkins has a serious case of hatchet face. Leif Garrett and Corey Haim look particularly rough; guess we can blame the smack for that. Willie Aames isn't too bad from the neck up, but I am still traumatized by the sight of his moobs (man-boobs) on "Celebrity Fit Club."

And, I love him to death, but Curtis "Booger" Armstrong qualifies as a TEEN star? I'll buy that only if "umpteen" counts as an age.a

Overheard . . .

. . . During a conversation about music genres: "I don't like the blues at all; it's just so . . . depressing."

You don't say!

Things That Go Bump In The Night

I've had a most unusual problem this week. When I wake up in the morning I am covered with bumps, cuts, scratches and bruises that I don't remember getting during the day. I've thought of three possible scenarios:

1. Someone is sneaking into my apartment in the dead of the night and punching me in the face without disturbing my sleep.

2. My apartment is haunted by unfriendly poltergeists.

3. I am thrashing about violently in my sleep due to repressed hostility/anxiety and should probably be restrained like a mental patient.

I'm not sure if I should call ADT, Ghostbusters or a psychiatrist.n

Skilled Labor

Recently my boss needed to hire someone to deliver our product to stores one day a week. The last person to do the job was a real humdinger. He couldn't count to 20 without removing his shoes, couldn't make change and always managed to lose most of the invoices (he claimed they blew out of his car window). One week he didn't show up for work. A few days later he came by the office and explained the reason for his truancy: he had been in jail.

Naturally, an upgrade was in order.

The help wanted ad for the job mentioned that basic math skills were required. The ad ran for over two months and got no response whatsoever. My boss changed the wording and removed the basic math skills requirement. Suddenly the office was flooded with phone calls and visits from every Cletus and Brandine in the county. You would have thought we were handing out winning lottery tickets. The moral of the story? When all else fails, appeal to the lowest common denominator!ˇ