Well, color me impressed, darling. Ree Drummond has gone and made a cookbook full of essential recipes — as if my husband’s idea of an “essential dinner” wasn’t just meatloaf shaped like a football and a Jell-O mold that jiggles like his mother’s approval.
Ree, bless her, calls them essential because apparently she knows the panic of staring into a 1950s Frigidaire, wondering if tuna casserole is truly the pinnacle of cuisine. (Spoiler: according to my bridge club, it is not.)
The photos are glossy, the food looks edible, and unlike those terrifying 1956 recipes involving marshmallows and mayonnaise, these meals wouldn’t get me kicked out of the church potluck. Ree has chicken dishes that don’t require a can of condensed mushroom soup (scandalous, I know), and desserts that actually make you look like you enjoy being in the kitchen. Imagine!
My husband glanced at the book and muttered, “Why try new recipes when meatloaf works?” — but that’s the same man who thinks salad is a garnish for steak. I told him, “Darling, Ree Drummond makes ranch life glamorous. You can barely make mowing the lawn look competent.”
So yes, I’ll be using this cookbook. Not because it’s essential, but because if Ree can wrangle cattle and whip up a cherry crisp before sundown, then maybe I can manage something more impressive than ambrosia salad for once.
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