I’ve had fig paste from Morocco, cloudberry jam from Newfoundland, and pearl jam from Seattle. If there is a place on earth whose fruit spread I have not sampled, it is only a matter of time before I do. So you can imagine my delight when I wandered into Walgreen’s and made rather unexpected discovery.

I was looking for shaving cream, but found myself lost in the feminine hygiene aisle when I saw it. Wedged between boxes of home pregnancy tests and Summer’s Eve, I came across a spread I never knew existed: Kentucky jelly. I was amused by its placement in the store, assuming perhaps that it was being marketed to pregnant women. Or at least very clean ones. If it was delicious enough to be recommended by gynecologists, it was good enough for me. I snatched up a box and headed to the checkout line, forgetting all about the shaving cream.

When I returned home, I pulled the jelly out of its box after I put my bread slices in the oven to do their thing. The pale blue container I held in my hand gave little away as to what flavors lay hidden inside. I did, however, admire the packaging: a squeezeable tube. So convenient for spreading upon one’s toast, I thought.

Unscrewing the plastic cap to remove the tamper-proof seal, I replaced it and squirted a generous amount of the jelly onto my hot toast. I was surprised by the clearness of it but, undeterred, I bit in.

It was not what I imagined Kentucky to taste like. I was disappointed by its glycerin flavor and viscous mouthfeel. And it was not organic. My friends from there are colorful and interesting, so why wasn’t the official jelly of The Bluegrass State the same? I tried to imagine Kat and Jackie spreading it on their muffins in the morning. And then I immediately tried to imagine something else.

KY jelly does a great disservice to The Great Commonwealth, no matter what gynecologists may think of it. When I think of Kentucky, I think of bourbon, racehorses, summer heat, bourbon, cherries, and bourbon. I think of good old-fashioned traditions upheld like Derby Day and the making of burgoo and hot brown. And though I may think of Loretta Lynn using Crisco in her pie, I never, ever think of her using KY Jelly.

Old Fashioned Kentucky Jelly

I decided to make my own Kentucky jelly, the old-fashioned way, just to take the bad taste out of my mouth. And when I say “old-fashioned,” I mean like the cocktail of the same name. Though my friends from The Hemp State might disagree, this recipe is how I imagine their signature spread should be:

Sticky, sweet, a whiff of bourbon, and the gentle kick of a thoroughbred thrown in for good measure.

Makes two 8 ounce jars of KY jelly. Keep one for yourself and give the other to someone you’d like to see use it.

Ingredients:
• 1/2 cups Kentucky bourbon
• 1 1/2 cups black cherry juice (Knudsen makes a great one using cherries and nothing else, which is ideal.)
• 2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
• 1/2 cup of sugar
• 3 or 4 good dashes of orange bitters
• The peel of 1/2 of an orange (large pieces are best, because you’ll want easy removal.)
• 1/2 teaspoon Aleppo pepper (or chile flakes, if you want a little extra heat.)
• 1 teaspoon calcium water (powder comes with your packet of Pomona Universal Pectin)
• 3/4 teaspoon of powdered Pomona’s Universal Pectin mixed with:
  1 teaspoon of granulated sugar

Preparation:



1. In a medium-sized, heavy-bottomed pot, add bourbon, cherry juice, orange peel, bitters, sugar, lemon juice, and pepper flakes. Bring to a boil, then turn off the heat and let stand for 30 minutes to allow the flavors to mingle properly.
2. Remove orange peel. Add calcium water and stir into your liquid. Add the sugar/pectin mixture, bring to a boil, and stir, stir, stir to prevent the pectin from clumping. To see if the concoction has gelled to you liking, place a small spoonful onto a chilled plate and see how it sets up when cool. Too firm? Add a little more juice and try again. Too runny? Add a little more pectin and see what happens.
3. Pour hot jelly in to clean, sterilized jars and process according to instructions from the National Center for Home Food Preservation.
4. To serve: spread it on toast, on crackers, on cheese, on any food stuff that seems in need of lubrication.

After my first visit to the confessional, I was absolved of my transgressions by Father O’Connor and told that, as soon as I said my ten Hail Marys, my soul would be light and unburdened by the weight of sin. When I had finished my last “Amen,” I ran outside to the church’s tetherball court and began jumping around the blacktop, convinced that with each leap, I rose higher in the air and therefore rose closer to God. It was a very good feeling.

When I took Holy Communion, I understood that, thanks to the miracle of Transubstantiation, I was accepting an actual piece of Christ’s body onto the tip of my tongue. But which piece? I didn’t dare ask the priest who was doling out the goods, so I’d just return to my pew and sit next to my mother with the Eucharist softening and balancing on my tongue. I was afraid to chew the wafer, thinking it would cause Jesus unnecessary pain, so I just let it rest there until it dissolved, wondering if I could tell from what part of His body it came. Was it from His thigh or His breast? Was it light meat or dark? If I were to have judged based solely on flavor, I would have come to the conclusion that I was eating a part of His sandal every time.

And yet I always found myself wanting to go back for seconds. We never ate before morning Mass, so I was always extremely hungry. When everyone else was praying for the souls of the recently departed, I was praying for breakfast. Ingesting the communion wafer may have brought me closer to Christ, but it also whetted my appetite as it found its way into my stomach and got my gastric juices churning. It was a uniquely Catholic torture.

At Easter Mass, which felt like the longest of the year, I found this torture even more grueling, which was appropriate given to constant reminder of Christ’s suffering and dying for our sins. I identified with Him because I was suffering and dying, too. Of hunger. I’d look at the altar and think the priests could have done a much better job at feeding their congregation if they had set it up as a buffet. It was already set with silver and a nice cloth, so they didn’t have far to go.

I never thought as to what they might serve at the buffet, but I was confident that whatever it was, they’d never run out of anything because Jesus would never let that kind of thing happen. Especially at one of his own parties.

For the bible told me so. And quite literally, for that matter.

Crucifixion Corn Dogs

If I were a seven year-old today and attending Easter mass, I know what I would like to see served at an Easter Service buffet. Naturally, everything would conform to a Jesus/Easter theme: Hot cross buns, hollow chocolate bunnies, and cereal in the shape of crosses and halos on one end; a deacon with a big knife to carve up the Lamb of God on the other. Or the Ham of God, since I wasn’t a fan of eating lamb back then.

And in the middle of everything would be a treat which would really bring home the drama of Christ’s Passion in edible form. Something delicious and filling, but would still remind us of Christ’s suffering with each and every mouthful: corn dogs on a cross.

They’re more substantial than a communion wafer, and more delicious, too. And, given the nature of hot dogs, you still won’t be certain from which part of the body they came.

With the Catholic church suffering a loss in attendance, even at Easter time, drastic measures should be taken to reverse the decline. Ordaining women, getting rid of the celibacy rule, and welcoming gay, lesbian, and transgendered would be nice, but I don’t see these things happening any time soon, so they might as well throw a nice, big buffet and see what happens. Or they might come up with some other novel approaches. All they have to do is ask the seven year-olds* of their diocese. After all, Jesus loves the little children.

This recipe is adapted from Saveur magazine’s State Fair recipe, which was, of course, gotten from poor people who work state fairs, who got it from some other people, who most likely got it from wheat and corn crops. And cows. And mustard companies. The using-a-chopstick-as-a-handle trick I learned from Ree Drummond’s website. She most likely learned this trick from Beatrice Lillie’s character Mrs. Meers in Thoroughly Modern Millie. And Matt Armendariz will very likely be including this recipe in his upcoming Holidays On A Stick! cookbook (publishing date undetermined).

If the idea of squirting a mustard Jesus onto your corn dog makes you uncomfortable, you can still stay in theme by creating a condiment version of The Penitent Thief. Or The Impenitent one, if that is more your style.

Serves 8. To serve multitudes, pray over this recipe’s ingredients for as long as needed if you are perfect and without sin. For everyone else, multiply the recipe by hand.

Ingredients:
• 2 cups all-purpose flour
• 1 1/3 cup yellow cornmeal
• 4 tablespoons sugar
• 2 tablespoons baking powder
• 1/2 teaspoon baking soda
• 1/2 teaspoon dry mustard
• 1/2 teaspoon ground white pepper
• 2 teaspoons kosher salt
• 1 3/4 cups whole milk
• 1/2 cup buttermilk
• 2 eggs, lightly flogged
• 16 6″ hot dogs. I have chosen to use chicken dogs, which is more than likely still offensive to practicing Catholics on Good Friday, but probably less so than beef franks.
• Vegetable oil, for frying
• 4 pairs of wooden take-out chopsticks to serve as posts, 8 coffee stirrers to serve as crossbeams.
• Yellow mustard and (non-yellow) catsup for garnish

Preparation:

1. In a large mixing bowl, whisk together flour, cornmeal, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, dry mustard, white pepper, and salt. In a separate bowl, combine milk, buttermilk, and egg until the trinity becomes a confusing, inseparable muddle. Add the liquid to the dry ingredients until all becomes binding and Universal.

2. In a wide, deep pan or Dutch oven (this requires more elbow room than an ordinary, non-Catholic corn dog recipe), pour oil to a depth of 2″ and warm over medium-high heat until the oil reaches 350°F.

3. As the oil is heating, make the hot dog crucifixes. To assemble, cut about 2″ off the narrow part of each chop stick which, under ordinary circumstances, be the end one would place in one’s mouth. Discard the circumcised tips. Gently insert the chopstick into one end of a hot dog, until all that is left visible is a 2″ handle. Cut a second hot dog in thirds, discarding/sacrificing the center piece. These will be the arms of the cross. To attach, cut a coffee stirrer to the appropriate length and slide through the center of the top half of the whole wiener, then slide on the remaining 2/3 of cut wiener. (See photo**).

4. Dip one crucifix into the batter, coating well. The batter should be firm and giving, but not run. If it is too dry, add a little milk. Too runny, add a little more flour. The batter is as forgiving as He is. Gently shake off any excess and lay directly into the pot of hot oil. Fry on one side for about 1 1/2 minutes. Using tongs, gently turn its other cheek and fry for the same amount of time. On the third minute, let it rise from the oil and rest on a shroud of paper towels to cool. Repeat until all crucifixes are battered and fried.

5. To serve, decorate with mustard. You do not have to put the image of Christ on every corn dog. If you have any martyrs in your family, feel free to squirt on their likeness and share it with them to show that you know how much they themselves have suffered, which will give them great comfort. Just please remind them not to bite into the coffee stirrer crossbeam, which most decidedly will not.

* Or eight year-olds. Luis Antonio de Bourbon was ordained cardinal on 19 December, 1735. He was eight years old

** Note: This is a photo of a practice-run crucifixion dog in which I discovered that coffee stirrers are excellent for sidebeam support, but terrible for for use as handles, which is why one should use chopsticks.

Unfortunately, the point driven home to me for the Holidays was that my capacity for coming up with interesting ideas is not always paired with the culinary talent for bringing them to fruition: the pot pie recipe I threw myself into wound up being thrown in the garbage, the Salted Carmelite nun candies I wanted to give out for Christmas looked warped and depressed in their nasty looking habits. I dare not go on. I will say that even my ability to fix myself a bowl of cereal with confidence was suspect.

It was enough to drive a person to drink.

Fortunately, I recalled the eternal wisdom of the great Maria von Trapp who once said to her flock, “Wenn der Herr eine Tür schließt, irgendwo Er öffnet ein Fenster,” which roughly translates (and I do mean roughly) to “When the Lord closes the door on your edible nun idea, somewhere he opens a window.”

As luck would have it, that window happened to shine a divine light upon my liquor shelf. Even more fortunate was the fact that I happened to be browsing the internet reading up on Tom Lehrer, the great mid-20th Century composer of such songs as “Poisoning Pigeons in The Park” and “The Masochism Tango.” It was if by some unseen force that I was willed to read the Wikipedia passage that mentioned Professor Lehrer’s (spurious) claim to have invented the Jell-O shot as a way to circumvent alcohol restrictions while working at Los Alamos Labs in New Mexico.

And, just like that, faith in my cooking abilities was restored like a Christmas miracle. Or maybe it was just the booze talking.

Whatever the case, it is thanks to Maria von Trapp, God, Tom Lehrer, and that bottle of absinthe collecting dust on my liquor shelf that I am able to bring you a recipe that is sure to please (and thoroughly sozzle) your loved ones, just in time for the Holidays. However, if anyone asks me where I got the idea, I’ll just say, “I got it from Tom, who got it from Agnes.” And then I will direct them to this video:

Recipe: Absinthe Jellies

These jellies are not for children, which is a good thing because in all likelihood, they would not like them. They are what they are, which is incredibly alcoholic. 110 proof. Please serve, suck, and chew them responsibly.

Makes enough to summon a legion of green fairies for you and all of your adult loved ones.

Ingredients:
• 3 cups of water
• 8 (1/4 ounce) packets of unflavored gelatin
• 1 cup of granulated sugar
• 2 1/2 cups of absinthe
• 2 drops of green food coloring (this is not entirely necessary, but it does make them more appealing)
• Plenty more granulated sugar for coating.

Preparation:
1. Pour the water into a medium saucepan and sprinkle the gelatin evenly over the surface. Leave unmolested for about five minutes, until the gelatin softens. Add one cup of sugar and whisk to combine.
2. Over low heat, stir the mixture with a rubber spatula, scraping down the sides of the pan as necessary until the sugar and gelatin are fully dissolved. It will take about 8 minutes to attain this state. Whatever you do, DO NOT BOIL. DO NOT EVEN SIMMER or the gelatin will not set properly and you will have wasted a lot of very expensive liquor, which is a crime in every state except Nevada.
3. Remove your pan of gelatin from the heat, add the absinthe and food coloring, then stir until all is well combined. If there is extra absinthe left in your absinthe bottle, wait until you have finished preparing this recipe until you drink it. Otherwise, I cannot claim responsibility for what happens.
4. Place an 8×8″ Pyrex baking dish onto a small baking sheet or tray that will fit such a thing, then pour your gelatin into the Pyrex dish. Place in your refrigerator to allow the near-liquid goo to cool and firm– at least 2 hours or, better yet, over night. There is no need to cover your gelatin unless you also have left items such as creamed herring or durian fruit uncovered in the same refrigerator.
5. To release your gelatin from its Pyrex confines, dip the container into hot water and (starting from the number one) count to the number seven. After you have wiped the bottom and sides of the Pyrex, place a small cutting board over the top of the container and quickly flip it upside down. The gelatin should now be released on its own recognizance. If it does not, repeat the t water trick and try again. Return the now-freed gelatin (still on the cutting board) to the refrigerator for a few minutes to the top and sides to re-firm themselves if necessary. Remove them only when you are ready to cut and serve.



6. Slice the gelatin into any size you wish. If you have made the error of pouring some of the gelatin into an ice cream soda glass, thinking that it might make for an amusing Christmas Tree-like shape, think again. You will end up with something that looks like an advanced-level sex toy (see: photo on right). Small one-to-two bite squares are ideal and much less disturbing to friends and family.
7. When you have sliced the gelatin into cubes, roll them in sugar, shaking off the excess. Serve immediately* to people you would like to see very drunk. If you decide against rolling them in sugar, they will not weep, but remain miraculously stable. However, they won’t be as sweet. Do with them what you will.

*When I say “immediately,” I mean “immediately.” These jellies are so laden with alcohol that the will begin to weep if left unattended without refrigeration which, coincidentally, is what the angels will do on your behalf if you eat too many of them. Should this occur (the weeping of the jellies, not the angels), re-roll them again in sugar before serving seconds.

By the time Winter arrives, my temper is as short as the day is long and my mood is as dark as the night.

The fountain of creativity that seems to flow so freely in the Springtime freezes under a layer of ice so thick over The Holidays that it could bear the weight of Santa Claus himself, should he find the time to skate upon it. In November I think to myself, “I can’t write, I can’t cook. I can’t do anything. It’s all over.” In January, I bubble and froth at the idea of writing again.

Every year it’s the same thing. I could probably scribble the date in red ink on my calendar if I paid closer attention to the warning signs: insomnia, low energy, high fatalism, the desire to hide from the world until after St. Valentine’s Day. February might be earmarked for Black History Month, but I always set aside November and December for Seasonal Depression Time. It’s just what I do.

Or rather what I used to do. This is the first time that I’ve realized, “Oh, wait. This is a thing that happens. And it’s a thing that happens not just to me, but to other people I know.” I never looked at the pattern, never understood the cycle. In previous years, I’ve always sunk under its weight, but now that I know it’s just “a thing that happens,” I can make the best of it, rather than letting it get the best of me.

One way to make the best of it is to eat light. And by “eat light,” I mean feed myself with as many (good) mood-enhancing ingredients as I can get my hands on. Not only will my mood be lighter and brighter this season, but my ass will still be able to fit into a pair of size 32 jeans come New Year. And that is one hell of a mood enhancer in my book.

There is a long list of foods which contain natural antidepressants: beets, salmon, molasses, citrus, walnuts, and leafy greens just to name a few. This Holiday Season, while I still plan on consuming my fair share of spiked eggnog and Christmas cookies, I’ll be self-medicating with more fruits and vegetables and less bourbon. A little less, at any rate. One must keep out the cold.

Beet and Orange Salad

Recipe: Beet and Orange Salad

Oranges ripen in the light; beets mature underground. I’ve been enjoying this combination of sun and earth all week. And I think I’m a (marginally) happier person for it. It’s my own version of light therapy.

There are no precise measurements for this salad, because none are necessary. Make as much or as little as you want, if you choose to make it at all.

Ingredients:
• Golden beets, cleaned with the root ends trimmed
• Fresh, ripe citrus. Seville or navel oranges, clementines or tangerines
• Toasted walnuts
• Maple syrup
• Olive oil
• Something green: beet tops, parsley, dandelion greens. Your choice. And when I say “something green,” I do not mean items such as M&Ms or dollar bills. However, you’re the one making it, so I will leave that up to you. If money enhances your mood, then go for it.
• Sea salt
• Cinnamon (Optional. Of course, many things are optional, but cinnamon is extra so.)

Preparation:
1. Heat oven to 400°F. Line a baking sheet or oven-proof casserole with aluminum foil. Lay another large, loose layer of foil in the pan. Place beets on the loose sheet, drizzle with olive oil, sprinkle with a few pinches of salt and cinnamon. Wrap beets in the top layer of foil an put everything in the oven. (When I say “put everything in the oven”, I mean the foil-wrapped beets and their roasting vessel [i.e. casserole or baking sheet]. DO NOT place iPhones, pets, or small children inside a hot oven.) Bake for about 45 minutes or until the tip of a knife slips easily into their centers. Remove from the oven and let cool.
2. When the beets are cool enough to handle, peel them and then slice them into whatever shapes you prefer. Transfer them to a bowl, squeeze the juice from one orange over them, drizzle with maple syrup, cover and refrigerate until ready to use. I prefer to leave them overnight. They will last for several days covered and refrigerated.
3. A few minutes before you feel you are ready to eat this salad, peel and slice your citrus. Suprèming (removing segments from their membranes using a very sharp knife) one’s citrus makes for an attractive presentation, but it is time-consuming. Peeling and slicing your oranges/tangerines/clementines crosswise is much less time-consuming/dangerous.
4. To assemble, toss sliced beets, citrus, and torn bits of greens in a small bowl with a spittle of olive oil and a good sprinkling of sea salt. Spoon out onto a serving plate and drizzle with maple syrup.
5. Cover salad well with cling wrap and head for the nearest high bridge. Offer salad to any and all potential jumpers. If your luring is unsuccessful, self-medicate with said salad. Then return home and pour yourself a very large bourbon.

Michelle Obama’s husband may have won The White House, but her citrus and amaretto-laced shortbread lost the Family Circle Bake-Off in 2008 to Cindy McCain’s plagiarized Butterscotch Oatmeal cookies. To date, she is the only woman to lose the bake-off yet become first lady.

Taking no chances in 2012, she has greatly toned down her sophisticated tastes and presents us with a subtle twist on a classic recipe:

Mama Kaye’s White and Dark Chocolate Chip Cookies

Makes 5 dozen

Ingredients:

2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened
1 stick Crisco butter-flavored solid vegetable shortening
3/4 cup granulated sugar
3/4 cup packed brown sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 eggs
1 cup each white chocolate chips, milk chocolate chips and mint chocolate chips (or Andes mint pieces)
2 cups chopped walnuts

Preparation:

1. Heat oven to 375°.

2. Whisk together flour, baking soda and salt in a small bowl. In a large bowl with an electric mixer, cream butter, vegetable shortening, granulated sugar, brown sugar, and vanilla extract.

3. Add eggs, 1 at a time, beating well after each addition.

4. On low speed, beat in flour mixture. By hand, stir in white and milk chocolate chips, mint chips and walnuts.

5. Drop rounded tablespoons of dough onto un-greased baking sheets.

6. Bake at 375° for 10 to 12 minutes or until golden brown. Cool on baking sheets for 5 minutes; remove to wire racks to cool completely.

What Michelle’s Cookies Tell Us:

It should be noted that this recipe was not developed by Michelle Obama herself. Rather, it is from her daughters’ godmother. Though she emphasizes that she and her husband sit down with their girls every evening “with good conversation and healthy food,” she admits that these decadent cookies are a “splurge.”

The current First Lady is firmly committed to healthy eating– adhering to organic principles in her non-organic White House garden. So why then would she use something as unhealthy as Crisco butter-flavored baking sticks, which contain fully hydrogenated palm oil, mono and diglycerides, and no actual butter? Shortening does have it’s benefits in terms of cookie baking (batters spread and brown less readily, for example), but it contains no heath benefits whatsoever. Then again, she explicitly stated that this is a “splurge.” Frankly I’d stick to butter.

Whether or not it was intentional, the inclusion of both white and milk chocolate chips is a touching nod to her husband’s heritage. The addition of chocolate mint chips adds a pleasant surprise note of interest.

If one cannot find chocolate mint chips, as I could not, the Andes Creme de Menthe Thins are good tasting, but are filled with more junk that the Crisco butter-flavored sticks. Then there is the labor of unwrapping and chopping the 30 mints it takes to fill one cup, not to mention the garbage left behind.

Approximate cost of making Michelle Obama’s cookies: $16.34

Both Michelle Obama’s and Ann Romney’s cookies could easily be labeled as junk food– there’s nothing very wholesome about either of them. That said, no one eats cookies for health reasons. Cookies are consumed because they typically taste good.

So it is beyond me why anyone would want to eat the crises of identity known as Mrs. Romney’s M&M Cookies. It would be much simpler (and, I think, far more satisfying/healthier) to dump a bag of M&M’s in a jar of peanut butter, grab a spoon, and have at it. I would then pay for my sins by consuming 4 1/2 cups of oatmeal, sweeten it with a little bit of Karo syrup for insurance, take a little light reading into the bathroom, and wait for atonement.

Mrs. Obama’s cookies may not be as wholesome as her personal food philosophies, but at least they tasted good. And, unlike Mrs. Romney’s, they stay on message. There is no confusion about what her cookies are about. If I had to vote for a cookie that best fit a husband’s political persona, my vote would go to Mrs. Obama’s.

The Ultimate Cost:

Some of you out there may or may not be thinking: “But Ann Romney’s cookies are less expensive to make. If they’re anything like her husband’s fiscal policies, these cookies must be good for the country.”

Yes, Ann Romney’s $14.60 versus Michelle Obama’s $16.34 looks like the better deal, but it isn’t. Romney’s recipe yields 36 cookies at 41¢ a piece; Obama’s recipe yields 60 cookies at 27¢ a piece.

I am no financial genius, as my parents will quickly tell you, but the Romney numbers are misleading. Less spending? Sure. But there are fewer cookies to go around. Obama may spend more at the outset but, ultimately, more people benefit from them being spread around.

And just think: if Michelle abandons the Crisco habit and uses butter exclusively in her recipe, her cookie largesse would spread even further.

PREVIOUSLY: ANN ROMNEY’S M&M COOKIES

Ever since Martha Washington became famous for serving up soft foods to her dentally-challenged husband, First Ladies of the United States have sought to bolster their presidential helpmates by virtue of their artistry in the kitchen– often with limited success: “Lemonade” Lucy Hayes’ refusal to serve alcohol made her unpopular with non-sober male voters; Edith Wilson’s hoecakes are rumored to have sunk The Lusitania; and Dolley Madison’s successful line of cream-filled pastries supplied her husband’s detractors with 200 years worth of political zingers.

Thanks to these women, the position of White House chef became one of ever-increasing power and importance. First ladies were now free to support their husbands in other ways. For example, John F. Kennedy and Ronald Reagan might never have been president if their wives were kept in the kitchen rather than by their sides.

A surge of interest in the baking habits of First Ladies– both incumbent and aspiring– occurred in 1992 when Hillary Clinton mentioned that she chose to pursue her own career after her husband was elected Governor of Arkansas rather than “stay home and bake cookies.” Every election year since, Family Circle magazine has presented a First Lady cookie bake-off– a depressingly old-fashioned, sexist, yet remarkably accurate bellwether of the real presidential contest.*

What is interesting about this contest is not so much about how good these cookies are (or aren’t), but rather, what each recipe says about the woman who submitted it. And, by extension, her husband’s political philosophies. Do these treats adhere to their respective party platforms? The only way to find out is to bake them.

First up:

Ann Romney’s M&M’s Cookies

Makes 3 dozen.

Ingredients:

1 cup granulated sugar
1 cup packed light brown sugar
1/2 cup (1 stick) butter, softened
1 1/2 cups crunchy peanut butter
1 tablespoon light corn syrup (such as Karo)
3 eggs
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
4 1/2 cups rolled oats
2 teaspoons baking soda
6 ounces chocolate chips
2/3 cups M&M’s candies

Preparation:

1. Heat oven to 325 degrees F. In a large bowl, cream sugars, butter, peanut butter and corn syrup on high speed until well combined. Beat in eggs 1 at a time. Beat in vanilla extract.

2. In a separate bowl, mix together oats and baking soda. Stir into peanut butter mixture until combined. Mix in chocolate chips and M&M’s.

3. Using a standard-size ice cream scoop, drop dough onto baking sheets (about 9 per sheet). Bake at 325 degrees F for 18 minutes or until lightly browned. Cool 2 minutes, then transfer cookies to a wire rack to cool completely.

What Ann’s Cookies Tell Us

As a self-proclaimed “avid baker,” it’s little wonder that her husband frowns upon any woman who would dare serve store-bought cookies rather than stay at home and make her own:

A passionate horsewoman, it isn’t surprising that Ann Romney would have plenty of oats on hand. The fact that she would include 4 1/2 cups of them is entirely in keeping with her public persona.

Politically speaking, this is truly a Romney-style cookie. It simply cannot take a firm position on anything. Is it a peanut butter cookie? Chocolate chip? Oatmeal? It tries to be all things to all people, but in the end, it tastes like none of the above.

Though it’s an interesting cookie to behold– garish bits of blue, green, and red M&M’s peeking out of a bumpy oatmeal lunar surface– it is heavy both in the hand and on the tongue. A little of this cookie goes a very long way.

But if you find that you have consumed too much Romney in cookie form, be comforted by the knowledge that, as an excellent source of fiber, oats act as “nature’s broom”– these cookies won’t be staying with you long. For added insurance, Mrs. Romney has included Karo syrup, which has osmotic properties and was once popular as a home remedy for infant constipation.

The approximate total cost of making Ann Romney’s creation: $14.60

NEXT UP: MICHELLE OBAMA’S CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIES

*The only woman to win the cookie bake-off and lose The White House was Cindy McCain, whose Butterscotch Oatmeal Cookies beat out Michelle Obama’s Citrus and Amaretto-laced Shortbread. It should be noted that McCain has been accused of stealing the recipe directly from Hershey’s website.