Death Star Okra: Or, How I Confronted My Inner Martha Stewart

Yeah, so, ok, I guess you could say I'm just a teensy bit bothered and conflicted about Martha Stewart.   Something just rubs me the wrong way about a former-stockbroker-CEO-powerhouse-reality-tv-villainess who has made a vast fortune selling a myth of rustic domesticity and traditional home life.  But, I secretly admire Martha's flair for the domestic arts, done with a little modern panache.  Argh, well, anyways, I'll stop the embarassing Martha rant now.

I bought my first Martha Stewart cookbook in college, Martha Stewart’s Pies and Tarts.  It was filled with gorgeous shots of fruit enclosed in pastry, tarts topped with intricate latticework, and pies of every variety and persuasion, none of which turned out decently when I tried to make them.  To add insult to injury, Pies and Tarts "helpfully" featured a side-by-side photo comparison of an egg from a chicken at Martha’s Connecticut estate, orange and glowing, with a pallid yellow egg, the kind that the reader could get at the supermarket.  It was made super clear to you that you, reader of Martha, could never produce the jewel-like confections pictured in the book.  And in my case, that was definitely true. 

After a particularly crushing lemon curd failure, a friend of mine who worked for the Martha Empire confided in me that, in truth, many of Martha’s recipes were not properly tested.  My efforts to be that woman in the apron next to Martha in the pictures, proudly holding up her bubbling, crusty sour cherry pie, were obviously doomed to abject failure.

In any case, I have developed a fondness for the more recent Martha Stewart Baking Handbook, a book that has obviously been meticulously tested and thoughtfully organized (and has pretty, pretty pictures…).  So, when the Martha Empire released two new compilations, I decided to give Martha Stewart Living, Original Classics a whirl.

And that's where I found it. 

The most horrifying, perplexing, fascinating-for-its-sheer-transgressiveness, nutritional-trainwreck-of-an-okra-recipe ever to confront this omnivore.  Okra fried in -- I am not making this up, I swear -- five cups of vegetable shortening.  Yes, nestled among innocent enough looking recipes for vegetable gratins, casseroles, and "fit to live" low-cal quiches was a recipe utilizing 5 cups of cold, hard at room-temperature, toxic, forbidden, artificial ("fully hydrogenated"?!!) fat.  If there were an evil empire, plotting the undoing of human civilization, I think this recipe could be part of their arsenal. 

Of course, I knew I had to try it.

My husband was not pleased when the family-size Crisco made its way into our grocery cart. Out in the open, on my kitchen counter, it was a menacing presence, with its sinister "fully hydrogenated fat" and "no trans fat" (?) labeling. I chickened out and bought some kind of kindler, gentler shortening from Whole Foods and used it to make the okra, which were just "eh." Clearly I am no expert in vegetable shortening deep frying, and to tell you the truth I am just fine with that.

But enough about the okra.  The salads and entrees were otherwise okay but a little dull.  The Shaved Beet Salad was gorgeous-looking but didn't taste like much of anything.  Perciatelli with Tomatoes, Walnut and Breadcrumbs was yummy once doctored with extra parmesan and nuts (but, then again, what isn't?).

The one standout aspect of this cookbook is, I think, the baked goods.  The Shallot and Rosemary Popovers rose to spectacular heights and were uncommonly delicious.  The Cheddar and Pecan Flowers - sort of like a salty crossover between a pecan sandie and a spicy cheese straw - were right up my alley snack-wise.  There are obviously some crack pastry chefs behind the scenes at the Martha Empire these days.

At the end of the day, it's hard to know what to say about a compilation like this, ultimately a mishmash of ten years of recipes from the magazine -- including low fat recipes and carcinogenic free-for-alls, pretentious dishes and all-american type comfort foods, minimalist, low-brow recipes and fussy, elegant recipes.  To the extent that there is a principle or style animating this book, I would have to call it "cutesy food for entertaining."  But, it did have a lot of good baking tips and recipes.  I guess, like everything else Martha-related, this is a book you must learn to identify with selectively.  Sense of humor not included.

Comments

[tina]

maintaining your usual combination of elevated standards of cuisine along with a flair for the comedic.I enjoyed the post, as I too at times have fallen prey to Martha's lure.

[Mr. Addict]

I can attest that the giant Crisco can was frightening to say the least!
That being said, I really enjoyed the Popovers. I am not usually a popover fan, but the combination of rosemary and shallots really transformed them into something entirely different.

[captious]

Where is the okra? I thought for a minute perhaps hidden in the beautiful popovers, but after reading through the post I suspect not. I want to see the death star okra! (Who wouldn't want to see death star okra? Do you mind if I steal the name for a non-fried okra recipe? Hmm, what should it contain? I think okra, star anise, and chickpea flour would make a good start.)

I enjoyed reading your blog. The pictures are gorgeous and posts are full of authentic sentiment and humour. Thanks for sharing!

[Cookbook Addict]

hey captious,

After much debate we determined not to include the okra shots, I guess I was too uninspired to gussy them up and try to make the greasy little blobs look pretty...

You are, of course, very welcome to construct your own death star okra, I am sure that anything that does not begin with 5 cups of shortening will be significantly tastier and less evil than mine were ---