Don't tell them it's healthy! Unless you do...

In the introductory chapter to Carlton Fredericks Cook Book for Good Nutrition (updated 1974 edition), Fredericks admonishes readers to "never place a dish or a meal before your husband and the children and announce that it's (a) a new one, and (b) good for them." I'm not so sure he believed part b of this rule, though, as he sometimes gave recipes titles that give away the game. (And it was a game because "taking care of oneself ... is essentially a feminine philosophy," and "American men, doubtful of their masculinity, suffer great anxiety when asked to participate in something they consider feminine. They therefore are charter-bound to reject anything that is good for them." I swear, the more I read this book, the more depressingly current it seems...) 

But anyway, don't let them know you're serving something good for them. Just call it Soybean-Bran Yeast Muffins. That name certainly doesn't have the stench of "health food" about it.

Or maybe whip up a nice big Vitamin B Protein Loaf.

Granted, "protein" might not be so bad if the man of the house thinks only in terms of gains. But still, the vitamin B shouldn't lead, and "protein loaf" doesn't exactly have the most appetizing sound. If you're going to eat a meat-based loaf, you probably want to know what kind of meat it is. Presenting it as mystery meat probably isn't the best move.

The next item-- Vitamin-Protein Cookies-- might sound nearly acceptable to the types of guys who now buy things like Lenny & Larry's Complete Cookies (and they are definitely not a sponsor. In case you don't realize, I am kinda making fun of them! Plus, I have, like, 12 readers, so asking me to advertise anything would be a total waste of money.), but 1. the original target audience for this book was not exposed to that kind of marketing, so I'm guessing this title would be a harder sell, and 2. even Lenny & Larry know "complete cookie" sounds better than "vitamin-protein cookie."

Of course, if you're giving the family a cookie that is enjoyed by children primarily for its "chewing exercise" because it consists of nothing more than skim milk solids, wheat germ, a little sugarless sweetener, and whatever variety of baby food the household has on hand (up to and including strained meat), it probably doesn't matter what you call it. I'm guessing most family members will be pretty goddamn resistant.

So maybe Fredericks just ignored his own rules because he realized they may not be particularly helpful--it would take very little effort to deduce that this stuff is supposed to be "healthy"-- and hoped the readers wouldn't catch on until after they bought the book? Or maybe he was just lazy, like I am as I end this post somewhat abruptly.