Not For Coarse Palates
:: Pickled Mushrooms ::
:: Viennese Stuffed Eggs ::
:: Paliscenta ::
Vincent Price was one smooth orator. Listening to him to talk on any subject is gratifying, but hearing him talk about cooking is -- and this isn't a word I use often because I think people would hit me if I did -- splendid.
He was quite the gourmet, and in 1977 he put out this series of audio cookbooks intended to be an international cooking course. Were people's turntables situated close enough to the kitchen for this to be worthwhile? If not, did you have to crank the volume on your living room stereo to previously unacceptable levels just to be able to hear it in the kitchen? Well, it doesn't really matter, because people weren't going to buy this so much because they wanted the recipes; it was all about hearing Vincent, right there like he was dispensing the culinary advice in person. If you were unelegant, and got this series on cassette, it was called Push-button Cookery.
This edition I found sealed, with a price tag still attached from the long-gone Santa Monica department store, Henshey's. That place has been gone so long that the Toys R' Us that was put up in its spot has even been gone for a few years.
Hearing Vincent Price proclaim that he loves mushrooms is strangely comforting, even though I hate mushrooms. According to Vincent, this means I have a coarse palate and am not sophisticated enough to enjoy his appetizer. That's okay, because I am sophisticated enough to say "wash" instead of "warsh." Gotcha that time, Vinny! Anyway, these three recipes for Austro-Hungarian appetizers will warm the aortae and ventricles of anyone who ever loved Vincent Price.
In closing, I'd like to add what will have to pass for my own Vincent Price anecdote. A few years ago when I took the tour of Forrest Ackerman's house, a veritable museum of sci-fi and horror memorabilia, ephemera, and well, junk, there was one item that really stood out to me. In Forry's living room, on a wall near the piano, and in a tiny frame, was a personal check from Vincent Price, written to an upholstering company. I can't remember whether it was cancelled or not, but at some point Forry had added it to his collection. That's weird, right?