“I tried that recipe, the Pillsbury Bake-Off^® first prize winner. It wasn’t anything special, and it wasn’t very good,” my cousin confessed to me a few years ago.

My heart swelled with putrid satisfaction.

Back then, I was addicted to cooking contests. I entered one practically every week. I knew my mastery of food play would confer some sort of recognition on me. I was wrong. I never won. Never placed. Never showed. I’m also a notoriously sore looser. I was a pill to know, during that phase.

I had an excellent reason for believing I was a winner-in-waiting. Prior to beginning my dismal contest career, I was chatting with a friend and flipping through a newspaper. I noticed an add for a baking contest sponsored by a jelly company.

I pointed it out to him and said, “I’ve got an idea. Swirl blackberry preserves into a basic cheesecake batter and bake it.”

“That’s a great idea!” he exclaimed. “Send it in!”

I thought about it and responded, “Nah, too simple. It’ll be disqualified.”

A few months later I came home to a call left on my answering machine by my unusually excited friend. “You won’t believe this but that jelly contest you didn’t enter? The winner was your recipe!”

A message from Destiny.

I’m not sure why I never won. I followed the rules, explicit and implicit. I subscribed to food contest newsletters and absorbed their advice. I (enviously) analyzed winning recipes and came up with some insights of my own.

Finally, I tired of giving away my recipes to companies that would never use them and forfeiting the ability to take official credit for them.

There have been some consolations. Cooking contests are often product specific. I learned to use a wide variety of products in unusual ways. At that time, simplicity was highly prized (this is even truer today). I learned to streamline with a vengeance.

Food fads and tradition play major roles in judging. This may have been my downfall. I have a marked tendency to avoid fads. Regarding tradition, I am definitely a Mom-person, my mom and I get along great, but I hate apple pie.

I also came up with some toothsome recipes, most of which have become family favorites. I have adapted many of those recipes, in fact, so I could use them for this column without getting myself into trouble (the judicious use of another skill acquired while pursuing cooking contest fame and fortune). For those of you with a taste for tartness, here’s a good one:

Sauer Supper

Prepare the rice according to package directions.

Slice the rope sausage and cut it into chunks. Defat the sausage by bringing it to a boil in a pot of water and letting it simmer for 5 minutes or so. Drain it. (I’m a manic meat defatter. Luckily, I’m living at the right time for this obsession.)

Dump the sauerkraut (my preference is the kind without added sugar or caraway seeds) into a 13” x 9” glass baking dish or a large casserole dish. Mix in the fennel seeds and the celery. When the sausage and rice are done, mix those in, too. Sprinkle cheese over the top (I prefer sharp, and I also love cheese; you could probably get away with less).

Bake 20 minutes, or until cheese has melted, is bubbling, and beginning to crust. Prepare a light dessert (this recipe really enhances dessert), invite 5 to 9 people (depending on their food capacity) over on a cool evening, and enjoy.

What’s that you say? I should have won the contest? Thank you, I quite agree.

Text, Recipes & Graphics ©1999 by Gail Rae Hudson

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