Showing posts with label diet. Show all posts
Showing posts with label diet. Show all posts

Monday, April 8, 2024

Poppyseed Cake: or, Have you been to the library lately?

Happy National Library Week!

Poppyseed Cake
2 tbsp lemon rind
1 cup sugar
½ cup (4 oz) cream cheese, softened
⅙ cup (8 tsp, or ⅓ of a stick) butter or stick margarine, softened
⅛ tsp salt
1 tsp baking powder
2 large eggs
1 tsp vanilla
3 tbsp poppyseeds
1⅓ cups flour

Heat oven to 325°. Grease an 8" square pan.
Mix the lemon rind and sugar. Pinch them between your fingers so that the rind gets sanded against the sugar. This helps release the lemon flavor. Do this until the sugar is yellow and smells very lemony.
Add the butter, cream cheese, salt, and baking powder. Cream until light and fluffy. Add the eggs one at a time, beating well after each. Add the vanilla at the same time as one of the eggs. Mix in the poppyseeds, beat well. Add the flour, and stir just until mixed.
Pour into the pan. Bake 25-30 minutes, until a toothpick inserted in the middle comes out clean.
Frost the cake if desired, but it is very good uniced.

       Icing:
2 tbsp cream cheese, softened
2 or 3 tbsp butter, softened*
Pinch salt
¼ tsp lemon extract
1 egg white†
Powdered sugar

Wait until cake is completely cooled before making the icing.
Beat cream cheese, butter, salt, lemon extract, egg white, and about ¾ cup powdered sugar until very smooth. Gradually add powdered sugar, beating well, until the icing is thick enough to hold a shape and spreads easily.

*You can just use the remainder of the butter stick that's leftover from the cake.
†If you are worried about raw egg whites in the icing, you can either use pasteurized-in-the-shell eggs, or you can use 2 tablespoons of carton egg whites. As always when using carton egg whites, shake the carton immediately before measuring.

Adapted from Cooking Light

This year, National Library Week started off with the astronomical wonder of a lifetime. The moon and stars above give honor to public libraries, and so should we. Have you been to your local library lately?

As more and more people have noted, libraries are one of the last remaining places where no one expects you to spend money! In the past few decades, they have become community centers (and purveyors of eclipse glasses as of this writing) as well as places to get books. You should check your library's social media pages if you haven't. You will likely be surprised at all the events they're hosting- and almost all of them are free!

Speaking of events at the local library, I would be remiss not to share this:

I'm not the first person to say this: We do not deserve librarians.

And of course, libraries are the best place to find a librarian. When you can't find the answer to a question after hours of failed internet searching, a librarian will find it in half an instant. This brings us to why we salute libraries today.

My mother used to subscribe to Cooking Light magazine, and a lot of recipes from various issues made regular appearances on our dinner table. She cancelled her subscription when they tried to take their recipes to a higher tax bracket. Our house was on a Better Homes And Gardens budget, but Cooking Light started catering to the Real Simple crowd. Apparently upscale diet recipes weren't as popular as affordable ones, because Cooking Light quietly folded in 2018.

All of this brings us to today's recipe. The magazine had a feature where they'd take a reader-submitted recipe and cut the calories. One month, they reworked someone's grandmother's poppyseed cake. We clipped the recipe and made it many times. It tasted ever-so-slightly different than any other poppyseed cake I've ever had. Unfortunately, when I recently wanted to make it again, I found out that we no longer have the recipe. Mom got rid of a lot of cookbooks and food magazines she doesn't use anymore, including all of her back issues of Cooking Light.

No amount of trawling the internet produced the poppyseed cake. The magazine's website has long fallen off the internet. While there are a few Cooking Light recipes floating around online, the poppyseed cake is not among them. I tried finding the recipe on the Internet Archive's copy of Cooking Light's website, but that was futile. I added poppyseeds and lemon extract to Mrs. Wilson's one-egg cake, which was very delicious (seriously, you should try it) but just not the same.

And so, I contacted the local library. I could have gone in-person, but the weather was too unpleasant to traverse a parking lot. So, from the climate-controlled comfort of the sofa, I went to the library's website, found their chat link, and asked if they could find the recipe for this poppyseed cake I had not made in ages. The first line of my note was "Hello! I'm requesting a bit of librarian sleuthing." The library had closed a few hours prior, but I figured that my message would wait until the next day.

Only half an hour later, a reply came through: "Thank you and we love a good challenge. I've got the information needed and we'll get to work to see what we can find." Only fifteen minutes after that, I received a scan of the magazine page bearing the poppyseed cake recipe! Never underestimate librarians, especially if they are monitoring the reference chat after hours.

Source: Cooking Light magazine

You may think it's a little hard to read the numbers in the ingredient amounts- particularly the fractions. But because librarians think of everything, they sent a higher-resolution scan of just the recipe.

 



After only a short glance at the recipe, I found out what made this poppyseed cake so different from any other I've ever tasted. It uses half butter and half cream cheese in the batter. This meant that after making the cake, we would have a partial brick of cream cheese in the freezer waiting for us to find a use for it. But my desire for poppyseed cake would not be stopped by the menace of small edible ingredients accumulating in the back of the freezer.


I may be veering off the recipe directions, but one cookbook writer recommended that you sand your lemon rind against the sugar by pinching the two ingredients together with your fingers until the sugar is yellow. This releases the lemon flavor a lot better than if you merely stirred it in. I've done it ever since.

I've since found that if you don't mind the extra dishes, you can simply drop the lemon rind and a few spoons of the sugar into an electric coffee grinder and get the same happy result. I didn't think I would ever have a use for an electric coffee grinder. I certainly would never have actually bought one-- not even at thrift-store prices. But since one turned up in the cabinets, I've found it to be unexpectedly useful.

Anyway, we had creamed the butter and sugar, cracked in the first egg, and were ready to turn on the mixer when we realized we had forgotten to add the cream cheese.


I had tried to be organized and prepared with this recipe. I had all the ingredients measured out and waiting in a tidy row on the counter (or so I thought). I even remembered to set out the butter earlier in the day to soften, which practically never happens. However, I forgot to soften the cream cheese.

Fortunately, we had not ruined the recipe. We had merely caused our own slight inconvenience. But although the egg was already in the mixing bowl, I knew that if I beat it in before adding the cream cheese, I would end up with hard white cheese-clumps floating in an eggy sugar sludge. But with only a minor sacrifice of dignity, I could simply pour the egg back out of the mixing bowl with minimal mess.


The Mixmaster made short work of the refrigerator-hard cream cheese, and soon we had a mixing bowl full of what looked and tasted like a delicious whipped cheesecake.


Having actually remembered to add all our ingredients, we could finally proceed to the eggs as if we had gotten the recipe right the first time. The batter looked promisingly pretty.

I remembered this recipe using a massive heap of poppyseeds, and my memory did not lie. I've seen a lot of disappointing poppyseed cupcakes (or are they poppyseed muffins?) that barely contain enough poppyseeds to speckle them, but this recipe tells us to dump them into our batter with glorious abandon.


The batter was wonderfully thick, so much so that I feared that I had accidentally added too much flour. But the pan was prepared and the batter was mixed, so we could do nothing but get it into the oven and hope for the best. As a measuring note, the original recipe uses three eggs and I reduced it to two. Reducing all of the other ingredients by one third resulted in some perfect and tidy amounts. I didn't have to mutter to myself "What's one twelfth of a cup, anyway?"


I didn't get the batter perfectly smooth in the pan, but I should have. As we found out when we used cream cheese instead of butter in a cake, the batter simply will not spread. It holds its shape better than the stiffest of cookie dough. Those of you trying this at home (which you should) will want to do a better job of leveling off the batter than I did.


Now, I always liked this cake uniced. I distinctly remember deliberately choosing to omit the icing every time I made it. However, because I wanted to express appreciation for repairing the Mixmaster again, I asked the person who'd helped me get it back together if he wanted the cake frosted or bare. "I'd like icing on top."


I appreciate how the original recipe uses the entire brick of cream cheese. What doesn't go into the cake goes into the icing on top of it. However, I didn't want to have a heavy schmear of icing on this cake. (As aforementioned, I didn't want to ice it at all. But sometimes we must give into the demands of the adoring public.) This is why the icing in my typed recipe is different from the original one in the magazine.

I used the icing from my great-grandmother's cake, replacing half the butter with cream cheese. Since that icing uses so little butter, it comes out like a light doughnut glaze that happens to be able to hold a shape. I think it's so much better than heavy, over-rich buttercream. I think the icing works because it uses an egg white instead of milk or water. If I am right, the protein from the egg helps the icing keep its shape. I've seen people demonstrate how adding liquids to buttercream turns it into an irreparably runny mess by ruining the fat-sugar ratio (and also personally encountered the results), but they always use water or milk. They never use egg whites. As you can see, this icing holds its shape beautifully without containing enough butter to glue itself together.


And here is the beautiful cake, returned to my kitchen after far too long a deprivation. As soon as I tasted it, I was like "Yep! There it is! The recipe I've wanted back all this time!"

People rarely mention removing the cake from the pan, but I have to point out how easily this cake lifted right out. It didn't threaten to break apart or cling. Sometimes you need a spatula to support the whole slice as you raise it out of the pan, but for this cake you could practically pinch a slice on the sides and pluck it out.

In conclusion, this cake is absolutely delicious. It's so dense, and at the same time so wonderfully soft. The amount of lemon rind is just right. You owe it to yourself to try it. Though as aforementioned, I think it's better uniced. All those lovely delicate flavors in the cake come through a lot better when there's no icing on top.

Sunday, October 3, 2021

Sauerkraut and Frankfurter Pie: or, The dieting days of yore

 This is what happens when I have the house to myself.


I don't know if everyone has a stack of recipes they've been meaning to make but never got around to, but I sure as heck do. And one of them comes from 1972: The Retro Weight Watchers Experiment. In this experiment, Mimi tried the infamous original Weight Watchers recipes that probably gave "diet food" the reputation it still carries today. Weight Watchers used to permit a lot more frankfurters than anyone on a diet would eat these days, likely because they are so cheap. Anyway, I've been wanting to try this ever since I first saw it:


Frankfurter Pie
4 slices enriched white bread*
4 c sauerkraut, drained
1 chopped dill pickle (or 2 to 4 tbsp dill relish)
¼ c chopped green bell pepper
¼ c yellow mustard
1 pound frankfurters

Broil the hot dogs turning as needed, then slice them. I had better luck doing it on the Low setting- they didn't burn so easily. Then get the oven to 350°.
Roll the bread slices flat, then cut in half. Lay them in a pie pan to make the crust.
Mix else everything together. Put into your pie crust and bake 20 minutes.
This makes four servings.

*All the Weight Watchers recipes from this time specify "enriched white" bread. No idea why they disliked whole-wheat bread so much. But I used brown bread anyway.

NOTE: Some further reading shows us that if you want to scrupulously recreate the original, you will also add 2 tbsp chopped pimento.

Source: 1974 Weight Watchers recipe cards via 1972: The Retro Weight Watchers Project

I don't care about this as a diet recipe. I just really love sauerkraut (along with garlic, onions, and all else that is pungent in life). I'm sure my nearest and dearest curse the person who first introduced me to Reuben sandwiches because I then discovered you could just buy sauerkraut without all that meddlesome sandwich in the way. Ordinarily I couldn't make a recipe like this because of complaints about the smell. But as I said earlier, no one else is home. And so, it was finally time to happily get the ingredients for a gastronomic delight!


I haven't eaten a hot dog in a long time, and I forgot how straight-sided they are when you first rip open the package and accidentally drip that meat-scented brine on your clothes. Anyway, we put them under the broiler and then attended to our other ingredients. First, the one occurrence of fresh vegetables in this recipe. We cut a whole bell pepper, but we're only using what's in that tiny little cup.


I know I said I'm not going to comment on how this recipe would help people on a diet, or go on about how weird and punitively wacky dieting was in the 1970s. I didn't pick this recipe to slim down, but because I really like sauerkraut-laden things. The sour-salty pan of hot dogs and kraut seemed tantalizingly perfect. 

However, I must note my bewilderment that this recipe uses such a parsimonious allotment of fresh vegetables. The only non-canned produce in this entire recipe is a quarter cup of green bell peppers in a pie that serves four. If you remember to follow their serving sizes, that means you only get a tablespoon of chopped fresh greens in your serving of pie. It's quite the shift from the "vegetables contain evil carbs" rules of the 1970s to dieting today where you are encouraged to eat an entire salad bar every night (but only with fat free dressing). 

 Anyway, having put the rest of the bell pepper in the refrigerator for future delights (I like bell pepper a lot, so it absolutely would not go to waste), it is time to move on to our pie crust! I'm using brown sandwich bread instead of the enriched white specified in the recipe because that's what I have on hand. Whole-wheat substitutions like this may be why I've had to set aside some of my pre-pandemic clothes until I can fit into them again, but I wasn't about to spend some grocery money on white bread at mid-pandemic prices when no one in the house eats it.


I thought the bread would get a lot bigger after having at it with a rolling pin, but it stayed nearly the same size.


This has got to be the easiest pie crust I have made since I just unrolled one out of a box. And those bread triangles in a pie pan look so lovely in an orderly way.


But we didn't come here for bread and bell peppers. One can find one or both of them in some form on almost any restaurant menu. Also, just about everyone in the United States has eaten hot dogs at least ten times in their lives, even if they swore off meat later in life. Let's get to the really fun, polarizing, send-everyone-who-has-a-nose-out-of-the-room ingredient that had me maniacally chortling as I came home from the grocery store:

All of this in one pie.

That jar of pungent shreds shrinks a lot after you've drained all the kraut juice out of it.


And so, to this limp beige confetti, we just dump in everything else. In case you don't think sauerkraut punches you right in the olfactory nerve hard enough, we've also added a massive splat of mustard. I think it's because mustard is nearly calorie-free, and Weight Watchers steered their clients toward condiments that had less sugar and grease than ketchup and mayonnaise. And after carefully counting individual lentils to make sure you didn't over-ration yourself on legumes for the day, it feels nice to just take a big bottle of something (doesn't matter what) and squirt with abandon.


The last thing to go into this pie (for now) is of course our one chopped dill pickle-- or its factory-chopped neighbor on the pickle shelf. Dill relish was cheaper and already cut up a lot finer than I would have bothered, which makes me wonder why the recipe doesn't just tell people to use it instead (or at least suggest it as an alternative).


I don't know if the mustard makes the sauerkraut taste any better, but it certainly makes it a very happy-looking yellow. It almost looks like I splurged on saffron, doesn't it?


And now, let us get to the frankfurters! This is the first time I've eaten a hot dog in many years. I think the recipe has us cut them up after broiling them to hide how bulbous and deformed they look out of the oven.


I wasn't sure how long I was supposed to cook them since they're fully-cooked right out of the package, so I just guessed. I hope the blackened skin didn't ruin the recipe. It appears we're only cooking these to make them a little crispier on the outside and perhaps to make any excess brine evaporate. The inside of these looked stubbornly unchanged-- or maybe I didn't broil them long enough.


I know we're supposed to bake this, but I think the oven time is just to heat things up. I doubt anything is going to change after baking, so it looks like this bowl of sliced weiners in sunshine-yellow Easter basket confetti is our pie.


I didn't know why the recipe tells us to bake it aside from making it feel a bit more like making a (non-diet) pie. But there's nothing to make this pile of ingredients set as a cohesive pie, no raw ingredients that need cooking, no reason I can discern to fire up the oven for this pan of yellow kraut. It did brown the exposed hot dog cores a bit, though.

But you should know that it didn't smell a bit tart in the oven. In fact, this pie did not smell sour at all. The oven fumes scoured my nostrils so hard that I couldn't smell anything.


I know I usually get irked about pies that you scoop out of the pan rather than cut and lift by the slice, but in this pie I didn't mind. Aside from putting it in a pie pan, I didn't think of it as a pie to begin with. It was just a cute way to get more sauerkraut into your kraut dog than a hot dog bun would contain. But I do love how you can scoop out a big slice's worth of kraut pie and barely make a dent into what remains in the pan.


I'm not going to lie, I absolutely loved this. If you like a good kraut dog, this recipe is for you. The salty nuggets of it-might-be-meat were a wonderful contrast against the massive sea of sauerkraut in which they floated. It's the same intense salty-sour combination that leads me to really love vinegar on French fries ever since I went to Canada. The bread got crisp and just a little bit toasted on the bottom of the pan, which just added to the perfection. Even if you don't want to pretend this is a pie with a sandwich bread pie crust, that layer of toast on the bottom is so perfect with the pungent bliss piled on top. Though I had to get out a knife to cut the bread up because you just can't do that with the side of a fork like you normally might with a non-Weight Watchers pie crust. You might consider cutting the flattened bread into bite-size squares and laying them on the bottom of the pan instead.


As delicious as it was, we have to discuss the dieting origin of the recipe. Clearly the sauerkraut is meant to be a flavorful way to fill yourself up on zero-calorie comestible substances. But after I ate my delicious fill of this pie, it was like my body was telling me "That was good, now where is the real food?" You can try to fill yourself up on kraut and other near-nothing diet foods, but you won't feel sated until you eat something with actual sustenance. So, I don't recommend making this pie as your entire dinner. 

But while this would not be a satisfying one-pan dinner, it would be a really good side dish. If you're considering grilling now that it's not too hot to cook outside without risking heat stroke, I would definitely suggest you also cook an entire one-pound package (some of the cheaper ones are only three-quarters pound, beware!) of hot dogs to make this. Whether you grill or oven-broil your frankfurters, it would be a really good side dish for any gathering of your vaccinated friends. Just forget the whole pie presentation and make it in a square pan with a layer bite-size pieces of flattened bread instead of diagonal halves on the bottom. Also, consider plugging a toaster oven into an outdoor socket to bake it.

Saturday, November 30, 2019

Second-Stab Saturday: We're all happy losers on Thanksgiving Day

Happy weekend after Thanksgiving! We at A Book of Cookrye, to our surprise and ever-so-slight disappointment, have noticed that while the Christmas shopping ads started right on schedule in September (as they have since, like, the 1880's), the annual spike of crusty crankypantses on TV screaming about the War On Christmas has somehow not happened. In fact, for the first time in at least five years, no one has gotten on the news to rant about how the Starbucks holiday cups are nonsectarian instead of covered with swarms of baby Jesuses. Anyway, now that the shopping season is in its inevitable full swing, let's talk about Thanksgiving!
Well, this Thanksgiving everyone was on a diet. We are usually responsible for desserts, which really restricted our recipe choices. When told we should do diet recipes, we were like "Oh, I'll do diet recipes for you. I got your diet recipes RIGHT HERE!"
Remember when we signed up for the Pieathlon and got a 1970s diet pie?


We had thought, after making that recipe, that it had unrealized potential. That it was almost but not quite good. The biggest fault, of course, was the presence of whole pillow mints which froze into pillow rocks. Those we struck right out. But by adding a wee bit more sugar (because of course we did) and adding a pinch of vanilla and a tiny bit of salt, we arrived at... this!

Cool Mint Ice Cream
2 egg whites*
½ c nonfat powdered milk
½ c iced or refrigerated water
⅛ tsp salt
1 tsp lemon juice
⅓ cup sugar
¼ tsp peppermint extract
1½ tsp vanilla
5 drops green food coloring

Select a bigger mixing bowl than you may think- this will whip up and expand a lot. Beat egg whites, milk, water, and salt on high speed for 3 minutes. Add the lemon juice and beat one minute more. Beat in the sugar, about one tablespoon at a time. When adding the sugar, scatter it over the top rather than dumping it in one spot, lest the weight deflate what you've been whipping.
Continue beating until thick and fluffy, about two minutes. Beat in the extracts and food coloring until well mixed, about 15 seconds.
Pour into the container of your choice and freeze. Keep it in the freezer right until you serve it- it melts quickly. You may also freeze the bowls you want to serve it in.

*If raw egg whites concern you, use ⅓ cup egg whites from the carton. Remember to vigorously shake the carton right before you measure it, or else they may be too thin and watery to whip up.

adapted from Betty Crocker's Step-by-Step Recipes, 1975

This is not the first time we have foisted recipes from frightful times in culinary history on our unsuspecting family at Thanksgiving. Remember when we let everyone taste British Depression-era cuisine?
Well anyway, we decided that if everyone is on a diet, they can have a taste of what it's like to diet in the 1970s. Although we took issue with trying to serve this as a pie. Dumping your whipped green glop into an empty pie pan does not a make it a pie. We decided to serve this in individual portions. It was easier than figuring out how to serve up ice cream on Thanksgiving day. It's not like you can just leave it out on the table all day so everyone can help themselves. Especially this recipe, which (as we discovered) melts immediately.





Also of note, this recipe is definitely easy. How do we know? We actually didn't make it! We handed it off to our brother (well, one of them anyway). Despite not having ever cooked whipped and frothy fripperies, he made it without any problems on the first attempt.
This then brought us to the matter of packing it in individual servings. Were this at home, I would have put it in heavy glasses which would have insulated it for a bit when removed from the freezer. However, we were taking these to a gathering, and absolutely did not want to spend the latter half of it chasing down glasses to bring back. A disposable option was needed.

We're stacking the cups in the hope of adding air pockets of insulation. Styrofoam was considered, but I objected from an environmental standpoint. Our Brother of Cookrye saw the freezer full of tiny paper cups and said it looked like we were saving urine samples.
As for the frozen minty stuff itself...




It tastes like minty Cool Whip. If you like mint and if you like Cool Whip, you should definitely make this! Given its provenance as a 1970s diet recipe, I am very surprised to say that it is as good as the many diet ice creams that have conquered the freezer aisles of late.

Monday, August 20, 2018

Pieathlon the Fifth: Cool Mint Cookie Pie

Guess what today is!

Indeed, this is the fifth(!) Pieathlon! A big salute to Yinzerella of Dinner is Served 1972, without whom this would not happen. And so, let's see what we got this year!

Today's recipe comes to us from Vintage Recipe Cards. Believe it or not, we got one of her recipes two Pieathlons ago. To review, that pie was supposed to be a gelatin mold in a pie pan, but ended up looking like this.
Incidentally, this was also a diet recipe.

This year, we have yet another diet recipe! Hopefully this one will actually turn into a pie. You know, something that you slice and lift out of the pan instead of pouring out and claiming that you did exactly what the recipe said. The recipe writers for bonus points for adding gratuitous dieting tips under the heading "How to be a Happy Loser." Actually, they give some very common-sense advice, so I can't get annoyed. We've seen harsher diet advice in unexpected places. The 1928 Woman's Club of Fort Worth Cook Book has this grim page at the very end which tells you to avoid eating any of the many luscious recipes the ladies of the club submitted.
I'd like to point out that this doctor's parents named him Arvel.

To give further indignity, this is the chapter illustration that goes with the diet. Naturally, they put the diet and calorie counts right after the party menus.
Woman's Club of Fort Worth Cook Book, 1928

Speaking of being on a diet,we cancelled out this recipe's calorie avoidance with the pie we submitted. Retro Mimi got to make the pie I sent in, which is an unapologetic diabetes-bomb of butter and sugar. Since she currently writes about salads and previously made original Weight Watchers recipes from the 1970s, I know she will appreciate this thing landing in her kitchen.
All right, back to today's pie! To the recipe writers' credit, they didn't try to make me eat egg whites mixed with saccharin. So at the very least, we won't have a "pie" that has an unnerving metallic taste in it from fake sugar. Though to be honest, this looks less like a pie and more like something that in the Midwest would be passed off as a salad. Except it's in a pie pan.
This recipe, like so many diet recipes, follows the notion that if you put something in a pie pan it's automatically a pie. Since the crust is always a calorie bomb, diet recipes tend to omit it. To be fair, a lot of people I know will leave the pie crusts on their plates, especially if they taste bad. So simply not bothering to make a pie crust at all is actually fairly reasonable. Also, this means that we at A Book of Cookrye need not spend an excessively long time getting flour off of the counter when it comes time to clean.
Well, let's get on with it, shall we? First, I must note that this recipe works out really well for my cheap self because it uses a lot of things that were lurking forgotten in various corners of the kitchen, such as... these!

The frozen egg whites are left over from some dessert recipe that involved a lot of egg yolks. These are the last two.

The food coloring has dwelled among my kitchen so long I could announce that this pie contains antique ingredients.
The shelf life of food coloring is nothing short of amazing.

Rounding out the ingredients, the mint extract has been lurking in the cabinet for a few Christmases now. The powdered milk was not much of a stretch to purchase. No one drinks milk here, so for baking purposes we use the powder anyway. We still had part of a bottle of lemon juice from the pumpkin chips. One might argue that the bottled stuff can never match the glorious flavor of fresh-squeezed lemons, but would you really notice the difference in this recipe? But let's move on to the one thing that was really annoying to find: the stupid pillow mints. I made my way through multiple supermarkets trying to find these things, but apparently people don't like them anymore. I even thought I'd have to dig out a recipe and make them myself. Peculiarly, the one store that had them only had store-brand. There were no name-brand pillow mints at all.

I thought a little girl and dog walking over a rainbow of candy was an odd choice to print on the bag, but apparently Kroger really believes in this young child and her dog. They even printed a little story about them on the back.
Incidentally, I must note that there were a lot of college athletes at the grocery I went to. This is not unusual as there is a college nearby. What is strange is that about a fourth of them had insanely red hair. Is the University breeding redheaded sports players and sending them to grocery stores? Does the University extensively advertise itself in Ireland? Can I get one of these guys to bring over a brother my age?
Whatever. I always liked these little mints a lot. There was this one end-of-year banquet I went to where they filled plastic margarita glasses with these mints and used them as centerpieces. Some friends and I shared a glass between us and ate them like popcorn during the inevitable speeches. This drew some irked glances as we kept having to get yet another glass from someone else's table.
I did not know that they are in fact two-piece mints. Did you also think they were made of some solid mixture with different colors in it? If so, you are wrong.
The pastel coating is a lie!

Well, that's all the stuff purchased! Let's have a group photo of everything going into today's pie recipe!
I would just like to say that yes, that is a pineapple top growing in a sour cream carton. It has managed to stay alive for 2 months so far.

Much like the very first time we did a Pieathlon, we have very few ingredients to work with. But at least this time it looks like the only thing we have to do is dump things in a bowl and turn on an electric mixer. If we're going to end up eating a diet recipe from the 1970s, at least it's not one that you spend forever working on, following a tedious series of steps to turn powdered milk and a few Sweet'n Low packets into a cake (or cake-shaped object) only to eat something that tastes disappointing and bland.
Let's check in on our egg whites, which have defrosted into snot.

You should know that (as our ice maker is broken and therefore ice must be purchased) after I'd poured the iced water through a strainer I put the half-melted ice cubes back in the freezer.

All right, let's have a look at what will supposedly turn into a pie!

This is a very... monochromatic recipe, isn't it? I'm surprised at how white this is. It seems most older diet recipes incline toward beige, but this is an utterly blank canvas waiting for green food coloring.  Incidentally, I've seen a lot of diet recipe books claim you can make a passable whipped cream substitute with powdered milk and iced water. However, even the people I know who are on the strictest of diets will mutter under the breath that this never works no matter how hard you beat it. However, this does also have egg whites in it. Maybe the whites will make this stuff whip up?

....Hwell. I was not expecting it to work quite that well. It's like a low-budget version of Cool Whip, isn't it? If you didn't actually taste it, you'd think it was a big bowl of luscious whipped cream. I actually had to switch bowls. I didn't expect less than half an inch of stuff to rise over the edge of the bowl.

See? We're all the way up to the rim. Let's get a closeup in case anyone doubts me. I couldn't get over how astonishingly creamy this looked. I was expecting something that looked a lot more pathetic.

Looks like a big bowl of shaving cream, doesn't it?

At this point we're supposed to start adding what honestly seems like a tiny allowance of sugar. Though I really should not whine about this recipe- it's unusually good for a diet. As we all know, vintage diet dessert recipes did not exist to satisfy one's desire for sweets. They existed to punish you for wanting dessert. Each recipe was its own special kind of terrible. This one looks relatively benign. Instead of tasting metallic from having multiple packets of Sweet'n Low dumped in, it's merely going to be bland and empty. Perhaps because this is a diet recipe, adding the sugar made it look just a bit like cottage cheese. We all know that everyone on a 1970s diet ate ungodly amounts of cottage cheese, so now this pie recipe looks like their refrigerated friend.

Right, this is where the "pie" magic  happens. With just a few drops of food coloring and a spoon of mint extract, this will hopefully turn into a delightful pan of mint-green deliciousness!

I do so love how the mixer always makes stripes with the coloring at first. This brief sense of wonder made up for the unnerving way the mint extract fizzed on contact with the diet foam.

And indeed, we have a lovely looking mint-green pie! Note that I merely said lovely looking. We make no promises about whether this will taste any good. But every diet recipe tends to have at least one baffling addition, and this recipe is no exception. And so, let us finish this off by dumping in... these!

It's not a diet recipe unless you add something that looks utterly wrong. I double-checked the instructions to see if I wasn't supposed to whack these with a mallet or something. But no, these things apparently are meant to be stirred in quite intact. Given that these things are nearly pure sugar anyway, I would have gone mini marshmallows instead. They even come in the same colors, and have the significant advantage of not hardening in the freezer.

Given how well the green foam covers the mints, I got to serve this with a creepy smile and say "Guess the secret ingredient!" Now, the recipe says that this thing should be frozen for an hour or so. I've always found freezing times in recipes to be very optimistic. Sure enough, the pie needed about twice as long to freeze solid. You should know that this thing gave off a powerful smell in the freezer every time I checked to see if it was hard yet. It was like getting blasted with mouthwash fumes every time I opened the freezer door.
 However, that does not detract from the fact that (excluding time spent finding all the ingredients and stopping to take pictures) this thing only took 15 minutes to make. And so, we at A Book of Cookrye took this pie out into public to feast with friends! Now, the recipe takes to take one chocolate wafer and pulverize it on top. They probably meant one of these:

But we at A Book of Cookrye didn't want to buy those. In fact, we've only ever seen them in that recipe where you basically layer them with whipped cream and refrigerate it overnight. They don't even try to show the cookies by themselves on the box, but encased in something white and with sprinkles on top. The grocery store near me sells them in the baking aisle instead of with the cookies, further suggesting that most people don't open a box and commence eating them. Instead of using a single isolated Famous Wafer, we did this.
Surprisingly, neither myself nor my friends even had Oreos on hand. We had to buy them just for this recipe.

Indeed, that is one half of an Oreo with the filling scraped off. I know the recipe card says I'm supposed to be a happy loser and therefore probably throw the rest of the Oreo away, but we all know that I ate it instead. Actually, as I was describing the recipe to my increasingly apprehensive friends, I found myself repeatedly pointing out that even if this pie is terrible, we have a bag or Oreos to eat. My friends were less than impressed with this attempted consolation as they'd been the ones to go out and buy the cookies for me.

Doesn't look so bad, does it? I have to tell you, this pie melts really quickly. After a short drive from my kitchen to the house of my complicit victims (in which I wrapped the pie in multiple cloths because it was warm outside), it got so melty that we had to rush it into the freezer to resolidify before attempting to eat it.
But enough blathering. Let's get to eating!

"You put whole mints in this, didn't you?"
"....yes..."
"WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM WHY DID YOU HAVE TO DO THIS???"

"It tastes like ice cream!"
A second (and more camera-averse) person said "My mouth feels so clean now! It's like mouthwash! Like, if you don't have time to brush your teeth in the morning, you just eat this and get dressed!"
Then I tried it. It's not so bad. Kind of like mouthwash, but surprisingly good. The sugar was almost enough to make it taste right. I'd expected it to basically taste like frozen milk powder, but the recipe works surprisingly well. Then I bit into one of the pillow mints, which had frozen into a tooth-breaking rock.
I hope you all like my hair's photographic proof of how humid it's been lately.

As you can see, it does in fact lift very nicely off the pie pan. I did not think we'd actually be able to slice and serve this thing. I was dead certain we'd be scooping it out of the pan.
To my own surprise, this is surprisingly close to a competent recipe. But (aside from maybe another quarter cup of sugar) it was missing... something. Maybe a little vanilla to mellow out the harsh mintiness and make it taste less like dessert Listerine? Definitely a pinch of salt.
However, one must note that you have like ten minutes to eat the pie before this happens.

If you take out the pillow mints (or at least pulverize them first), this would actually be a pretty decent ice cream. It's right up there with the diet desserts one finds in the freezer aisle today. Though there is no point in even trying to pretend this is a pie.
However, let us at A Book of Cookrye point out that this recipe is not necessarily as diet-friendly as it may seem. Yes, if you strictly followed the directions, you have a "pie" with less than 100 calories per serving in the freezer. But you also have a box of chocolate cookies (minus the one you crumbled on top) and most of a bag of pillow mints in your cabinets. They will be staring at you, tempting you, and reminding you that if your diet gets too terrible, they are waiting for you. Perhaps you could gradually use the cookies one "pie" at a time, but making that many dessert pies seems counterproductive to being the happy loser this recipe card wants you to be.
However, this pie is not nearly as bad as I feared it would be. I left the rest of it in my friend's freezer. Two days later, I got  this screencap:
That's my friend in blue, and a complete stranger in gray.

I don't know who this person is at all, so they have no reason to try to lie and make me feel better. So not only did my friend keep the pie instead of throwing it out (or letting it melt down the sink), but this pie also visited even more people's houses! And they gladly received it!
Happy Pieathlon everybody! I never thought I'd say this, but I'm a little disappointed I got off so easy this year. But who knows what awful food the future will bring!
Be sure to see what everyone else made!