
We don’t hype a lot of cookbooks here at ES because, well, they’re all so boring. In fact, if I get one more press release along the lines of Learn to Cook Family Favorite in 20 Minutes or Less! I’m going to barf all over my laptop. But once in a blue moon we get one that actually sounds like our style. Clearly, Fart Without Fear falls into that category.
Now this is not your run of the mill anti-farting cookbook. FWF is not here to tell you to forgo the black bean nachos or the macaroni and cheese pizza. Come on, we wouldn’t do that to you. Nor do they share instructions on how to make these fatty foods flatulent-free. We all know that’s not possible. No, this is much more complex that that. Instead, Fart Without Fear promises a more attainable goal — 70 comfort food recipes that the book’s authors swear result only in the less offensive kind of farting, i.e. weeding out the ingredients that result in “bad flatulence (a. k .a. smelly farts, silent but deadlies, air biscuits, backdoor trumpets, poots, etc.)” They promise their recipes will show readers how to:
Reduce the pungent, eye-tearing, sulfur-laden farts from recipes for breakfarts, loaded lunches, oop soups, sneaky snacks, appetooters, side splitters, dangerous dinners, and deadly desserts…Decide which ones to prepare using the authors’ very own scientifically based and politically incorrect rating system, the Original Boston Baked Bean Odor Index.
Finally, a cookbook that actually wants to help.
“Do you know the name of the large black bean?” I asked our waiter, shoving my arm into my winter jacket’s sleeve. BS and I had finished our Rancho Gordo three bean salad at Flatbush Farm, a Brooklyn restaurant focusing on humanely raised animals and vegetables, and we were steps away from the door. But I had to ask. It was the best bean salad I’ve ever had.
A warm and tender polenta base, as smooth as hummus, provided the backdrop to lovingly cooked beans. Soft but not mushy, like the pillows in a furniture showroom.
The waiter, having taken an American Apparel ad too seriously, sported perfectly cuffed trousers showing just the right amount of white sock. “I can find out for you,” he answered back.
He walked behind the bar and pulled out a binder, or what Flatbush Farm refers to as its playbook. Along with the slim binder, filled with printed pages and handwritten notes, the waiter brought out a glass with a variety of dried beans. Feeling his way around the beans, he simultaneously flipped through the binder’s pages.
“Scarlet Runner Bean,” he answered.
We thanked the waiter and walked out. “Holy crap that was cool,” I blurted out as the door closed behind us. “He just whipped out a book and told me exactly what kind of bean was in that salad. He didn’t have to ask the chef or anything. Do you think other restaurants have that kind of book? I’ve never seen it before.”
“Maybe you should start to ask to see the playbook everywhere you go,” BS replied.

After all the chocolate and beer desserts of last few posts, I thought I would lighten it up some and make something non-chocolate. You know, get back to basics like pie or cupcakes — better yet let’s just fuse the two for some banana cream pie cupcakes.
Let me say, it’s like finding nirvana between the pleats! On your way, you’ll find a vanilla cupcake stuffed with some banana cream filing and topped with some good ol’ fashion whip cream. To round it all out I rimmed the whip cream with some crumbled coconut and pecan graham cracker crust and then drizzled it with some caramel sauce — and done! Enjoy.
Banana Cream Pie Cupcakes
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