Should I trust a cookbook if it has "groaning" right in the title?

You might expect at least hint of feminist consciousness from the 1970s, but Our Groaning Board (1973) is by the wives of the medical officers and trustees of the American Medical Association, and in the preface the wives describe how they got the idea to raise funds with a cookbook as they "were waiting for [their] husbands to finish one of their meetings." Obviously, they have to accompany their husbands everywhere and amuse themselves while the menfolk take care of the serious business. In addition to hoping this project will help provide financial aid for medical school students, the women hope the recipes "will become your family heirlooms to hand down to your daughter, and she unto hers." Because, you know, women cook while men do the important business.

I kind of wondered if the recipes from the wives of AMA medical officers and trustees would be different from what I generally see in these community cookbooks-- maybe a little more sophisticated or health conscious?

I guess some of them don't rely on mixes as much, like this macaroni and cheese:

This is one of those recipes where the title is also pretty much the recipe. Mrs. Dwight Wilbur believes that macaroni and cheese should be just that-- and nothing else! I'm not sure how well it will work to just bake a package of cooked macaroni with a pound of cheese, but part of me suspects that the good old box mixes might end up being better than sauceless baked macaroni. Lucky bites get a bit of melted cheese while others consist of bare, oven-hardened pasta.

There are plenty of cooks who love mixes and packaged foods, though:

Yeah-- quick minestrone involved a package of dried minestrone soup mix combined with V-8, two different canned Campbell's soups, and a whisper of spaghetti sauce seasoning.

As for healthy, well, the group certainly seems to have a healthy appetite:

The Chicken Tetrazzini with two large stewing chickens, five pounds of ham, and unspecified amounts of spaghetti, cream sauce, olives, cheese, and buttered bread crumbs to bring it all together serves eight. Eight! That's at least a pound of meat per person before figuring in the add-ins.

My favorite recipe in the book might just be for the semi-sophisticated spin on the old favorite Frosted Sandwich Loaf:

This has the usual layers of varied fillings: egg salad, cheese, ham salad, and olive-nut. The frosting, though, is more sophisticated than the usual cream cheese coating: this has avocado frosting! I hope the mayonnaise keeps the avocado green, or the whole loaf is going to look like a slimy log by the time it gets served. Maybe the wives of AMA medical officers and trustees are too busy to worry about shallow things like appearances. (So, hey, maybe even a hint of feminist consciousness after all?)