Spaghetti with Mushrooms? Is this a trick post?

That's what you'll be thinking soon, because my first recipe sounds pretty innocuous. Tasty, even.

But first, some backstory. (You know where I said that my favorite things were my weird cookbooks? Well, I lied. My favorite thing is telling people I'm going to tell them something and then not telling them, sliding off instead into some kind of long-winded digression. Which in case you haven't noticed, is what I'm doing right now.)

You see, you really should know that this post almost didn't happen. Last night I thought I had found the perfect first recipe to post--perfect in that it was 1) made with two kinds of Jell-O and 2) looked like a colored photograph of a revolting skin disease. But then I realized that a large part of this recipe's appeal was the gruesome photograph of what happens, apparently, when Home Economists lock up suspicious-looking boxes of Jell-O, treat them roughly, subject them to unutterable humilation, and then TAKE PICTURES.

But with no way of uploading the picture, I thought it would be better to start with unillustrated recipes.

So, still shuddering faintly, I picked up one of my weird old cookbooks (The Modern Priscilla Cook Book: One Thousand Recipes Tested and Proved at the Priscilla Proving Plant, Boston, 1924). But I made the mistake of perusing the text in order. Well, the problem with that is that The Modern Priscilla Cook Book is arranged in strict order; first beverages, then breads, quick breads, crullers, doughnuts, griddlecakes, waffles, muffins, then cakes--what the hell was I going to do? These kinds of recipes are unfuckupable. These are the foods of the gods. I mean, I'm always looking for the ultimate cornmeal batter cake recipe, so picture my excitement when I spotted a recipe for corn waffles. Can you imagine them with butter and good strawberry preserves?

But dammit--this was getting me nowhere! So I flipped to entrees. (If that didn't work, I was going to head right to the heart of darkness--the chapter on salads.)

And then--I found it:

Spaghetti with Mushrooms

• 1 cup spaghetti • 2 tablespoons butter
• 1 can tomato soup • 1/2 cup cheese
• 1/2 cup mushrooms, diced

Cook spaghetti in boiling salted water until tender. Drain, rinse with cold water, and add to tomato soup. Brown mushrooms in butter and add with cheese to spaghetti. Heat thoroughly and serve. Serving, 4.

(That last part must be a typo--don't you think it should say "Serving, 1 garbage can?")

Oh, what a subtle, evil genius it was who concocted this recipe. How the name, "Spaghetti with Mushrooms," quickens the imagination. We envision a steaming plate of pasta tossed with a voluptuous amount of sauteed mushrooms. And then comes that can of tomato soup to spoil it all. And then--please note the cooking--you should excuse the expression--"technique." Note that the noodles go into the soup where they sit, rather like someone soaking her feet for a pedicure, until the mushrooms are browned. Then the whole mess gets combined and heated again. Can you imagine the sogginess?

Do you think this is where Chef Boyardee got the idea?

--P.