For five months I waited to hear the outcome of the "The Spirit of Betty Crocker" multiethnic facelift
competition. All this time, I've secretly pictured a portion of my Irish nose or a sliver of my crooked smile
printed on the boxes of cake mixes, muffin mixes, scalloped potato dishes -- and yes, even Hamburger
Helper -- from coast to coast.
Well, I wasn't among the 75 winners whose faces will be digitally morphed into the new Betty. I did get an
honorable mention, though, which I guess is good, considering my notorious track record in the kitchen.
I must confess that more than a few eyes rolled when I entered the competition, which was part of Betty
Crocker's 75th birthday celebration. And my family and friends weren't at all surprised to learn I didn't win.
I don't think it had anything to do with the fact that I burned a frozen pizza while writing the required contest
essay. Actually, it was mostly the cardboard on the bottom of the pizza that burned. And I didn't mention
the incident in the essay.
And I don't think it had anything to do with the fact that I've turned numerous pot roasts into roast pots and
have baked marble cakes that only a sculptor could appreciate.
I just didn't win, that's all.
It would have been a great honor to be part of the new Betty Crocker, because I truly believe that the
kitchen is the heart of the home and the home is the heart of society.
But I'd be the first to admit that I'm no prize in the kitchen.
As a matter of fact, there were several years when my husband, Dan, knew we were having a chef salad
for supper the minute he walked in the door. He didn't smell anything burning.
My friend Linda is still seething about the five pounds of sugar I wasted one Christmas back in the mid
1970s when sugar was extremely expensive. We decided to pool our sugar that year to make a batch of
fudge and some sugar cookies.
Unfortunately, she cut out the cookies. I got tired of stirring, and it ended up crystallizing.
One thing, though, is that I've learned from my mistakes. I've never made the same one twice. And I've
also learned the secret of good cooking is to follow the recipe and not substitute something just because
it happens to be the same color.
For example, one year, while making frosting for my son Richie's birthday cake, I poured too much milk
into the powered sugar frosting. With no more powered sugar and friends and family scheduled to arrive
at any minute, I resorted to instant potatoes. Not only would the white flakes thicken the frosting, cleverly
thought, they would add nutritional twist to the chocolate cake. It didn't, however, do anything for the flavor.
Anyway, the Betty Crocker competition gave me a slim chance to redeem myself.
All I had to do was write and essay. I've been told I can write much better than I can cook.
In the essay, contestants had to describe how they enjoy cooking and baking, are committed to family
and friends, resourceful and creative in handling everyday tasks, and involved in the community. I could
do all that with confidence.
Also, we each had to include favorite Betty Crocker product or recipe. Evidently it didn't matter what the
outcome of that product or recipe was in our kitchens.
But maybe it was a mistake to go back 30 years to one of my first kitchen experiences. I was making
peanut brittle during a home economics class in high school.
After adding way too much baking soda, the treat turned out a little green and was quite bitter. I'll never
forget the look on the teacher's face when she tasted my conglomeration.
To be fair to myself, I've come a long way from the days when I thought sherbet was a horse that couldn't
lose, and on most days, I'm able to show my love for family without burnt offerings.
Actually, I have mastered some of my family's favorite recipes, like jambalaya with polish sausage.
Unfortunately, that mastery comes at a time in my life when I'm more health conscious. Recently, I've
switched to low-fat dishes. That means new cookbooks. New recipes. Trial and error again before
scrumptious success.
I've been doing okay for the most part, with the exception of a double batch of no-fat fruit cookies I made
the other day. They were so bad the squirrels wouldn't even pick the raisins out of them. Even so, my
family is appreciative of the meals I continue to put on the table, so appreciative in fact, they pray before
each meal. Come to think of it, I've seen them pray before eating just about everything that comes from
my kitchen.
What a thankful bunch.
competition. All this time, I've secretly pictured a portion of my Irish nose or a sliver of my crooked smile
printed on the boxes of cake mixes, muffin mixes, scalloped potato dishes -- and yes, even Hamburger
Helper -- from coast to coast.
Well, I wasn't among the 75 winners whose faces will be digitally morphed into the new Betty. I did get an
honorable mention, though, which I guess is good, considering my notorious track record in the kitchen.
I must confess that more than a few eyes rolled when I entered the competition, which was part of Betty
Crocker's 75th birthday celebration. And my family and friends weren't at all surprised to learn I didn't win.
I don't think it had anything to do with the fact that I burned a frozen pizza while writing the required contest
essay. Actually, it was mostly the cardboard on the bottom of the pizza that burned. And I didn't mention
the incident in the essay.
And I don't think it had anything to do with the fact that I've turned numerous pot roasts into roast pots and
have baked marble cakes that only a sculptor could appreciate.
I just didn't win, that's all.
It would have been a great honor to be part of the new Betty Crocker, because I truly believe that the
kitchen is the heart of the home and the home is the heart of society.
But I'd be the first to admit that I'm no prize in the kitchen.
As a matter of fact, there were several years when my husband, Dan, knew we were having a chef salad
for supper the minute he walked in the door. He didn't smell anything burning.
My friend Linda is still seething about the five pounds of sugar I wasted one Christmas back in the mid
1970s when sugar was extremely expensive. We decided to pool our sugar that year to make a batch of
fudge and some sugar cookies.
Unfortunately, she cut out the cookies. I got tired of stirring, and it ended up crystallizing.
One thing, though, is that I've learned from my mistakes. I've never made the same one twice. And I've
also learned the secret of good cooking is to follow the recipe and not substitute something just because
it happens to be the same color.
For example, one year, while making frosting for my son Richie's birthday cake, I poured too much milk
into the powered sugar frosting. With no more powered sugar and friends and family scheduled to arrive
at any minute, I resorted to instant potatoes. Not only would the white flakes thicken the frosting, cleverly
thought, they would add nutritional twist to the chocolate cake. It didn't, however, do anything for the flavor.
Anyway, the Betty Crocker competition gave me a slim chance to redeem myself.
All I had to do was write and essay. I've been told I can write much better than I can cook.
In the essay, contestants had to describe how they enjoy cooking and baking, are committed to family
and friends, resourceful and creative in handling everyday tasks, and involved in the community. I could
do all that with confidence.
Also, we each had to include favorite Betty Crocker product or recipe. Evidently it didn't matter what the
outcome of that product or recipe was in our kitchens.
But maybe it was a mistake to go back 30 years to one of my first kitchen experiences. I was making
peanut brittle during a home economics class in high school.
After adding way too much baking soda, the treat turned out a little green and was quite bitter. I'll never
forget the look on the teacher's face when she tasted my conglomeration.
To be fair to myself, I've come a long way from the days when I thought sherbet was a horse that couldn't
lose, and on most days, I'm able to show my love for family without burnt offerings.
Actually, I have mastered some of my family's favorite recipes, like jambalaya with polish sausage.
Unfortunately, that mastery comes at a time in my life when I'm more health conscious. Recently, I've
switched to low-fat dishes. That means new cookbooks. New recipes. Trial and error again before
scrumptious success.
I've been doing okay for the most part, with the exception of a double batch of no-fat fruit cookies I made
the other day. They were so bad the squirrels wouldn't even pick the raisins out of them. Even so, my
family is appreciative of the meals I continue to put on the table, so appreciative in fact, they pray before
each meal. Come to think of it, I've seen them pray before eating just about everything that comes from
my kitchen.
What a thankful bunch.
| My Contest Dreams Went Up In Smoke |
Photo Patricia Lieb
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |