The TV Chef who got fired for licking her fingers

Meet Monica Sheridan, Ireland's feisty first celebrity chef. This photo seems to convey a sense of her personality, doesn't it, positioned in Ireland's version of the Brady Bunch house, smoking a cigarette and swinging a large alligator bag?

Here are a few more shots of Monica.

Make note of the turkey as you read on.

Monica is quite young in this picture. 

And still looking wonderful lifting lids in this one.

But what's the story about getting fired? This video hilariously tells the tale 20 years after it happened.

There aren't a ton of videos available for Sheridan, so I'm not sure if the sassiness in this one was typical, or if she just got fiery with age. But if you watched it, you'll hear her complaining that she was stuffing the worst, purplest, most disgusting turkey she'd ever encountered. Clearly not the charmer of the previously noted bird. 

And after manhandling it, I certainly hope she didn't lick her fingers.

In the video, Sheridan says she got sacked for doing just that on her show, but according to this story, she was fired for other reasons.

Apparently supporting Pigs and Bacon was controversial.

But that didn't stop her from seeking other sponsorships, though Cup-a-Soup feels controversial for other reasons. (I mean...she's a chef, for crying out loud.)

You can watch a video of that ad here: https://ifiarchiveplayer.ie/royco-soup/

I encountered Sheridan's work through a wonderful old cookbook titled The Art of Irish Cooking. 

It was an entertaining read, but I never expected to discover that the author was a rebel, a pioneer, and a dedicated finger licker. 

New Feature: Polls!

Cookbook Love has added a new feature for my enjoyment and edification, and hopefully yours.

Polls!

The first poll is about turkey. To brine or not to brine, THAT is the question.

What do you do?

Check it out, over there on the right. (Your right. My left.)

Let's talk turkey!

Turkey Divan and fear of pie-ing

When I was growing up, my mother was a competent cook who presented the simple, basic foods of the day. She didn't experiment much but stuck to her familiar repertoire. We had homemade sloppy joes, chili, boiled dinners, fish sticks, awesome potato and macaroni salads, and the occasional breakfast for dinner (which began my guilty love affair with Spam).

I still occasionally get a craving for macaroni mixed with sliced hot dogs and tomato soup or stewed tomatoes.

She occasionally made homemade bread, pickles, cinnamon rolls, and the best brownies I've ever eaten.

At the time I couldn't tell how she felt about cooking. It seemed like something that just needed to get done, and registered a sort of emotional neutral.

With two notable exceptions.

First, pie crust. For some reason making pie crust sent her into a tizzy. She had a primal fear of tearing. I eventually learned to leave the house when pie was in the making.

The results always turned out beautifully; the fluting on the crust looked like a picture from a magazine. I can't replicate it.

But was it really worth it?

Keep in mind, this was before the days of Xanax, and she wasn't a drinker. Where was all that angst supposed to go?

To this day, the legacy of crust avoidance continues. I still fear the pie shell. I can only pray that my children will break the cycle and step into tart freedom. But only time will tell.

The second example of Mom's emotional cooking was the day she made chicken divan for a ladies event.

My mother was never the kind of woman who attended bridge parties or things of that sort. She was too busy working. I'm not sure what event therefore prompted the divan debacle, but it did involve ladies. And so I couldn't help but notice the recipe below, the starring dish of a Ladies Luncheon menu.

Looking back I know that it wasn't the recipe itself that gave her agita. Especially now, when I see her making spinach souffles, marinated asparagus, complicated desserts and many other dishes.

It was Something Else.

I'm guessing her fear was all about expectations. She didn't want to disappoint anyone. Same as with the pies.

Luckily she no longer seems to be burdened with such unnecessary food fears. Cooking after all is about love, and sharing. It is a gift of self, and should be judged as such.

That being said, I don't think I've ever made chicken divan. Nor am I planning to.

But for those of you adrenalin junkies who like to live on the edge, here's the recipe from the book.

Turkey Divan

1 1/2 lb. fresh broccoli or 2 pkg. (10oz. each) frozen broccoli spears

6 slices turkey (about 1/4" thick) or 1 1/2 to 2 cups pieces of turkey

6 slices cheese

1 can (14 1/2oz.) evaporated milk

1 can (10 1/2oz.) mushroom soup

1 can (3 1/2oz.) French fried onion rings

Heat oven to 350 degrees (mod.). Cook broccoli to crisp-tender stage. Put turkey in bottom of oblong baking dish, 11 1/2 x 7 1/2 x 1 1/2". Cover with broccoli; top with cheese slices and cover with mixture of milk and soup. Bake 25 min. Cover with onion rings and bake 5 min. more. 4 to 6 servings.