Holiday Magic from Highland County Seniors

I'm going to tell you a secret. This is the first new post I've written in months. I knew fall semester was going to be crazy busy, so everything I've posted since the end of August got written over summer vacation. I just did quick edits and posted leftovers for the past few months.

But now I've got a bit of actual time to look through new old cookbooks and write new posts! When I had trouble picking a theme for today's featured cookbook, I decided to go with a Christmas just because I can make it seasonally appropriate in real time! I'm too lazy to put up any decorations this year, so pretending a thoroughly ordinary community cookbook is Christmassy is my rough equivalent of stringing up some multicolored lights.

The Highland County Senior Citizens Center went with the thoroughly original title "Cook Book" (now with scare quotes!). As the cover indicates, it's from 1976, and I guess the vaguely boxy building is the senior center. Looks like a really warm, inviting place... or maybe an abandoned factory. Could go either way.

We'll start with the holiday recipe that grandmas were known to force on people as a gift-- with one slight twist.

If you're not on board for fruitcake, I'm not sure whether the addition of pork makes it sound more or less appealing. At least it will be a different kind of weird....

I remember reading about making snow ice cream somewhere when I was a kid, and I remember thinking that it had to be made up. Nobody made it, right? I mean, sugar dumped on snow would basically be the crappiest version of a snow-cone ever. But apparently, snow ice cream was a real thing (and it did involve more than just snow and sugar, so my imagination clearly fell short).

Maybe the cream and vanilla (along with constant tossing) would make this more worthwhile.... But the chance of eating twigs, dead leaves, and/or dog piss still leaves me underwhelmed by the thought of snow cream. (Maybe the holiday magic of Christmas Snow Cream makes the debris turn into candy? Just keep telling yourself-- hey, that's chocolate!)

For those who like to give away mini baked goods as gifts, the book has an idea I hadn't really considered before:

The 7-Up Pumpkin Nut Bread doesn't just use 7-Up as an ingredient. Look at the baking directions. you're supposed to bake it in 12-oz. 7-Up cans for four mini loaves. It's a cute idea, though I'm not sure how easy it would be to get out. It's the gift that says, "Happy Holidays, and good luck enjoying this present!"

If you want pumpkin and there's a shortage, though, the pumpkin bread won't do. Doesn't matter-- the book still has you covered. I'm going to call this a distant cousin of mock apple pie, though no crackers are involved.

Yes-- Magic Pumpkin Pie turns pineapple-- through the magic of spices and Eagle Brand milk-- into a pie-like thing that you can unconvincingly tell people is pumpkin. I'm guessing it would be especially unconvincing if you used a can of pineapple rings. (This doesn't specify what kind of canned pineapple after, all!)

I just hope the book has enough holiday magic to make your week a little bit weirder, like Aunt Bethany's Jell-O mold (which is somehow not in this book, possibly because it predates Aunt Bethany's reign of benevolent terror by more than a decade).