The holidays are stressful enough without having to spend time with people you hate--and you will be spending time with people you hate over the holidays. Relatives are like seasonal affective disorder: You can't really avoid either during the holidays. And while you probably have some relatives you like and actually enjoy spending time with, it's a sad fact of life that your nice relatives come mixed in with relatives you can't stand.

To make your time with people you hate tolerable, The Stranger suggests that this year you cook for people you loathe. Cooking for someone is usually considered a loving act, of course, but it doesn't have to be that way. Cooking for your dad's third wife, your annoying young half-sibling, or your kinky ex-boyfriend is a surprisingly good way to take your revenge. To that end, The Stranger is proud to present its first-ever recipe collection. Each of the recipes Stranger food critic Sara Dickerman has compiled is 100 percent guaranteed to make the holiday guest of your choice absolutely miserable. Cold or hot, revenge is a dish best served on the holidays. Enjoy. --Dan Savage

FOR YOUR DAD'S NEWLY SKINNY THIRD WIFE


It might look like a meat lover's fantasy, but our faux-Atkins meat loaf is a little mountain of bread crumbs smothered in a sugary ketchup glaze. It's the perfect way to pack some pounds on the annoying "low-carb" dieter in the family. Don't serve anything else that an Atkins fan can eat, and you'll be calling her StepBlob again in no time.

MEAT LOAF

1/2 pound ground round steak
1/2 pound ground pork
2 cups fine bread crumbs
1 onion, finely chopped
1/2 cup chopped celery
2-3 tomatoes, fresh or canned, chopped
1 egg
2 tablespoons butter
1/2 cup chopped parsley
salt and pepper, to taste
Worcestershire sauce
1/2 cup ketchup
1/2 cup brown sugar
5 strips of bacon

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
In a frying pan, cook gently the butter, onion, and celery, until the onion and celery look transparent and limp. In a large mixing bowl, put the meat, egg, bread crumbs, tomatoes, parsley, salt, and lots of fresh ground pepper. Add a shot of Worcestershire sauce. Mix it with your bare hands, adding the onion and celery mixture at the end.
Mix together ketchup and brown sugar for a sweet glaze. Paint it onto the top of the meat loaf, and then camouflage it with bacon strips.
If you have a loaf-shaped Pyrex oven pan, put your meat loaf in that, or shape the mixture into a round loaf and bake it in any oven pan, including your frying pan. If too much fat accumulates in the bottom of the pan, pour it off carefully. After cooking, let the loaf sit in a warm place for 10-15 minutes before serving.

Adapted, unfaithfully, from The Male Chauvinist's Cookbook by Cory Kilvert (Winchester Press, 1974).

FOR YOUR HYPOCHONDRIAC STEPFATHER

Nobody obsesses about poop (and backaches, angina, migraines, "the AIDS," and West Nile virus) more that your mom's second husband. Give him something to worry about with this wholesome, tasty beet recipe. Beets, of course, turn your poop a deep maroon--which isn't a problem for the non-hypochondriacs among us, but it will leave your stepfather panicked about the blood in his post-holiday stool. You'll be able to laugh (under your breath) all the way to the emergency room on December 26.

BEETS á LA KING

5 medium-sized beets, cooked
1 tablespoon butter
1 tablespoon flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/8 teaspoon paprika
1/8 teaspoon pepper
1/2 teaspoon sugar
3 tablespoons vinegar
3 tablespoons cream Skin the beets and slice them. Melt the butter, add flour, seasonings, vinegar, and cream. When the sauce is thick and smooth, pour it over the sliced beets.

From The Joy of Cooking by Irma Rombauer (facsimile of the first addition, Scribner, 1998).

FOR YOUR HOLIER-THAN-THOU VEGETARIAN BROTHER


Does your vegetarian brother constantly harp on your brutal carnivorous ways? Sick of hearing about the horrors of factory farms and animal testing? This chanterelle terrine looks and tastes like a fancy vegetarian pâté made especially for him, but it's filled with mild-tasting baby cow, otherwise known as "tortured calves separated from their mothers at birth and raised in crates that aren't even large enough to let them turn around." If he asks you what's holding the whole thing together, just say eggs.

CHANTERELLE TERRINE

1 tablespoon butter
2 shallots, sliced
3 thin slices of white bread, crusts removed
1/2 egg white
2 tablespoons light cream
5 ounces lean boneless veal, cut in strips
3/4 cup whipped cream
1 1/2 pounds fresh, whole, small chanterelle mushrooms
3 tablespoons oil (or duck fat!)
1/3 cup diced shallots
3/4 cup jellifying veal broth
1 teaspoon chopped caraway seeds
2 tablespoons chopped parsley
butter for greasing mold
1-quart pté mold

Cook sliced shallots in 2 teaspoons butter until tender. Leave to cool. Soak the bread in egg white and cream, then place on a sheet pan with the veal. Season with salt and pepper; then grind twice through a fine meat grinder. Push through a fine strainer, then beat until smooth and silky. Gradually add the whipped cream and fold in thoroughly.
Braise the chanterelles in oil and drain well. Soften the diced shallots in the remaining butter and add the veal broth. Add the caraway and reduce the liquid to a thick glaze. Strain, then add the chanterelles. Let cool, then fold into the veal mixture along with the parsley. Cook the mixture in the pâté mold in a water bath for about 35 minutes. Let terrine cool before serving to your unsuspecting brother.

Adapted from Pâtés and Terrines by Friedrich W. Ehlert, et al. (Hearst Books, 1984).

SOUP FOR YOUR PEANUT-SENSITIVE HALF-SISTER

Do you have an issue with your new "sister," the annoying three-year-old brat that your father and his 26-year-old girlfriend decided to have? It's too bad about the ADHD, huh? And the screaming fits? And your stepmother's refusal to rein in the brat? Oh, and that allergy of hers that forces your stepmother to scream and yell at waiters about deadly peanuts....

This African classic, a tasty soup thickened with a healthy dose of peanut butter, is the answer to your prayers. A perfect holiday starter, the peanut butter in this soup blends in seamlessly, leaving no one to suspect its peanutty secret. Don't call it peanut soup; just call it delicious--and deadly.

GROUNDNUT SOUP

3 cups chicken stock
1 small onion, minced
1 small sweet green pepper (or bell pepper), minced
1 clove of garlic, crushed (optional)
salt (to taste)
black pepper, cayenne pepper, or red pepper (to taste)
1 hot chili pepper, minced (optional)
1 carrot, chopped fine, or 1 sweet potato, boiled and mashed
2 tomatoes, chopped
1 cup natural unsweetened peanut butter
Combine all ingredients except the peanut butter and simmer over medium heat until everything is tender. Reduce heat, add the peanut butter, and simmer for a few minutes more. Working in batches, purée the soup in a food processor or blender until there is no trace of peanut texture to it at all. Serve warm.

FOR YOUR RELATIVES AND FRIENDS WHO WERE WAY MORE FUN WHEN THEY WERE DRUNKS

Admittedly your dad and your best buddy had drinking problems--but they were a lot more fun when they were drunk, weren't they? After giving up alcohol five year ago, their real personalities emerged, and now you long for the good old days of drunken brawls and sloppy show tunes. So try this recipe for a delicious refrigerator pie, where pure unadulterated Jamaican rum is masked by a healthy dose of sugar and cream. You'll have your dad and your best friend back in no time. You might want to change the name to "Fun Bavarian Pie."

RUM BAVARIAN PIE

9-inch pastry shell
6 egg yolks
1 cup sugar
1/2 cup Jamaican rum (more or less or more)
1 tablespoon gelatin
1/2 cup cold water
1 pint heavy cream
1/2 pint whipped cream for topping (spike this too, with a healthy dose of brandy)
shaved bitter chocolate

Beat the egg yolks slightly; add the sugar and the rum (and don't be stingy!). Soak the gelatin in the cold water, then set in a pan of boiling water until it is dissolved. Pour this into the egg mixture and stir thoroughly. Whip heavy cream until stiff, and fold into the mixture. Refrigerate until it begins to set, then pour into the cooled pie shell and place in the refrigerator to chill. When firm, garnish the entire top with whipped cream and sprinkle with bitter chocolate, shaved with a vegetable peeler.

Adapted from The Esquire Party Book by the editors of Esquire magazine, with Scotty and Ronnie Welch (Harper and Row, 1965).

FOR YOUR INCESTUOUS UNCLE

Did your creepy uncle slip you the tongue shortly after you hit puberty? Now it's your turn to slip him some tongue (mold). Very few people like beef tongue, just as very few of his nieces like your uncle. The beauty of this recipe is that no one will know it's tongue until you tell them--which you can do right after your awful uncle swallows some.

SPICED TONGUE MOLD

1 1/2 tablespoons unflavored gelatin
1/4 cup cold water
2 cups stock from cooking tongue
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/8 teaspoon pepper
1/2 teaspoon dried mustard
1 tablespoon lemon juice
1 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce
2 cups chopped cooked tongue
2 hard-cooked eggs, sliced
4 tablespoons chopped sweet pickles
1/4 cup mayonnaise

Soften gelatin in cold water, then dissolve in boiling stock. Add seasonings, lemon juice, and Worcestershire sauce. Chill until mixture begins to thicken, then fold in remaining ingredients. Chill until firm. Serves 6.

From 250 Ways to Prepare Meat edited by Ruth Berolzheimer (Consolidated Book Publishers, 1940).

FOR YOUR NEAT-FREAK SISTER

When you're cooking at your sister's Stepford home, make sure to leave a sticky trail behind you. Not only does this recipe ruin a baking dish, but it also tends to overflow in the oven, and leaves children's hands covered with gloppy brown goo.

EASY STICKY TOFFEE DESSERT

For the cake:
scant 1/3 cup dark brown sugar, packed
1 cup plus 2 tablespoons self-rising flour
1/2 cup whole milk
1 egg
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/4 cup unsalted butter, melted
3/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons chopped, rolled dates

For the sauce:
3/4 cup dark brown sugar, packed
approximately 2 tablespoons unsalted butter in little blobs 2 1/4 cups boiling water

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees and butter a 1 1/2-quart-capacity baking dish.
Combine the sugar with the flour in a large bowl. Pour the milk into a measuring cup, beat in the egg, vanilla, and melted butter, and then pour this mixture over the sugar and flour, stirring--just with a wooden spoon--to combine. Fold in the dates, then pour into the prepared baking dish. Don't worry if it doesn't look very full: It will do by the time it cooks.
Sprinkle the sugar (for the sauce) over the mix and dot with the butter. Pour over the boiling water (yes, really!) and transfer to the oven. Set the timer for 45 minutes, though you might find the dessert needs 5-10 minutes more. The top of the dessert should be springy and spongy when it's cooked; underneath, the butter, dark brown sugar, and boiling water will have turned into a rich, sticky sauce. Serve with vanilla ice cream, crème fraîche, or heavy or light cream as you wish.
Serves 6-8.

From Nigella Bites by Nigella Lawson (Hyperion, 2002).

FOR YOUR FRIEND WHO'S INTO WATERSPORTS

So you broke up with your ex-boyfriend because he was way too kinky for you. Now he brags to you about how much his hot new boyfriend loves to drink his piss. Put a cramp in their urinary fun by serving them asparagus, and plenty of it, for the stinkiest pee this side of a parking garage stairwell.

ASPARAGUS TOPS FRIED á la MIRANDA

Bend and break off the tender part of the asparagus into one-inch lengths; blanch them well in salted water; drain and dip in fine cracker dust, then in beaten egg, and finally in bread crumbs; fry, drain, salt, and dress on a folded napkin, laying a bunch of fried green parsley on top. Serve apart a sauce made with one hard-boiled egg yolk mingled with one raw yolk, mustard, salt, and pepper; beat vigorously, stirring in a little olive oil and tarragon vinegar.

From The Epicurean by Charles Ranhofer, former chef of Delmonico's (self-published in 1893; republished by Dover, 1971).

FOR YOUR SISTER-IN-LAW, THE PRIMA-DONNA COOK

Does your sister-in-law think she can outcook Rocco DiSpirito? Does she rake in praise and attention for her holiday dinners? Slip these candies into her dessert buffet--in between the Baked Alaska and the profiteroles--and no one will ever eat at her house again. (Note: Don't let your bulimic niece get wind of these or she'll make off with the whole box.)

IPECAC CORDIALS

1 box chocolate-covered cherries
1 bottle syrup of ipecac
1 food syringe (like the Norpro Flavor Injector, available at cooking supply stores and online)
Carefully open the box and use the syringe to pull a little liquid out of each chocolate, then fill the needle with ipecac and shoot a bit into each and every bonbon. Replace chocolates in box. (Please note: Syrup of ipecac induces immediate and explosive vomiting. Do not serve ipecac cordials in your own home.)

Recipes compiled by Sara Dickerman.