In which my collection is judged to be in rather poor taste

My next post will be for the Pieathalon! Just as I did last year, this year I have invited a special guest to help me. This guest was notably less enthusiastic about the prospect. I'm not sure why he agreed, but I suspect his interest in food and morbid curiosity drew him to my little project despite his better judgment. When I promised he could choose the recipes for the last post before the Pieathalon, his eyes briefly brightened.

Then he saw my collection. "I didn't expect you to have Modernist Cuisine, but really.... I would hope at the very least for an English translation of Larousse Gastronomique. This collection is appalling! The recipes aren't fit to feed even a child."

"The point of my blog is not usually to make the food," I countered. "I'm just interested in food history. Well, that and making fun of really terrible recipes."

"Your collection seems ideally suited for that," he sniffed. Thoughtful pause. "So tell me, what is your interest in making fun of recipes? Were you teased as a child? Who are you really trying to hurt, Poppy, by making fun of these books that you clearly love?"

"You don't have to look if you don't want to," I countered, not wanting to play his game. "You'll either help me or you won't."

In the end, he wouldn't. I couldn't entice him to so much as touch my books, so I promised to pick the recipes for him. My visitor just asked me to emphasize that he didn't choose the recipes himself. "I wouldn't want to be associated with that kind of butchery," he explained.

Perhaps he won't be too disappointed. I dug out one of my classier books (House & Garden's New Cook Book, 1967) and searched for something suitable. These are for you, my friend. At least they have fresh herbs in them, so they are about as sophisticated as recipes get on this blog.

We will see you on Monday! Be ready for some pie.