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Don't disdain those back-of-the-box dishes S cratch any passionate cook and you'll find a kitchen show-off, a chef who's secretly delighted to display her culinary skills. She's the woman who spends a day babysitting bread dough, just so she can pass a basket of homemade focaccia at dinner. She's the gal who searches stream banks for perfect blackberries, then tucks them into crust so flaky her guests say it's a shame to eat the pie. She's the woman who tosses pizza dough with a flourish, then pretends to be surprised she still knows how. The only reason I know these things is because I know this woman. Heck, on a good day, I AM she. But the truth is, most days are not good days. In truth, most days are just kind of OK days, at least when it comes to food. On those merely OK days, a kitchen show-off can use a few tricks up her sleeve, a few tools in her chest, a few rabbits she can pull out of her toque. In my opinion, that's why God created back-of-the-box recipes. Now, don't look away. Don't wrinkle your nose in disdain. Don't fling the paper onto your perfectly broiled artichoke frittata and simple summer fruit medley. Even food snobs get the blues. Some of the best dishes I've ever served have come from labels, boxes and those free little pamphlets they glue to the top of the Eagle Brand Milk cans. And why wouldn't they be good? The recipes are dreamed up, after all, by people whose professional purpose is to get you to buy their stuff over and over again. It wouldn't do, would it, to put a simply so-so recipe on the back of the box of instant rice? Once the box was empty, the cook could simply trash it. But just put a killer recipe for a quick, tasty dish _ Italian Supper Scramble, say _ and a good cook will buy the rice again to get the recipe. She might even cut it out and file it away, a permanent testament to the power of marketing. No, the recipes food firms devise for promotional purposes are the good ones, the keepers. Most of the time, they're created by hired-gun chefs who spend months contemplating the best uses for creamed corn or canned chilies. Sometimes they're even designed by famous chefs, those white-coated, tall-hatted demi-gods of upscale kitchens. So you'll find Leslie Revsin, the first female chef at the Waldorf, whipping together Blueberry Coffee Cup Cobblers for the folks at Driscoll's berries. You'll find Tori Ritche, the food editor of San Francisco Magazine, touting Honey Sponge Cake for the National Honey Board. You'll find Walter Royal, executive chef at The Angus Barn, a world-class restaurant in Raleigh, N.C., dishing up spirit-doused Braised Quail for the agency that represents B&B Liqueur. The truth is, many of those recipes are well worth the trouble it takes to squint at the small print on the side of the soup can. My personal label favorites include a terrific orange-ginger marinade courtesy of a tag tied to the soy sauce bottle. There's also a great glazed strawberry cheesecake pie taken from the cream-cheese wrapper, and a pretty nifty breakfast quiche gleaned from the side of a pack of sausage. I try new label recipes all the time, just the way I sample new cookbook offerings. I took one particularly successful dessert to a recent potluck party. Guests cleaned the bowl. Provided by the famous makers of coffee liqueur, this Kahlua Chocolate Trifle is just another way for a passionate chef to show off. Easy Kahlua Chocolate Trifle 1 18 1/2-ounce box chocolate cake mix (plain, not pudding type) 1 cup Kahlua coffee liqueur* 2 small cartons whipping cream 2 3 1/2-ounce boxes instant chocolate pudding 3 1/2 cups milk 6 chocolate-covered toffee candy bars, crushed Bake cake in a 13-by-9-inch pan according to package directions. After cooling, poke holes in the cake and pour Kahlua over it. Refrigerate overnight. When ready to assemble trifle, whip cream. Add milk to pudding mix and beat according to package directions. Cut cake into cubes. Layer in a clear glass trifle dish or glass bowl: one third of cake cubes, one third of pudding, one third of whipped cream, one third of crushed candy bars. Repeat layers, ending with the whipped cream and candy bars. Makes 16 to 20 servings. NOTE: If whipping cream is too much trouble, try using non-dairy whipped topping instead. From pamphlet: "The Best of Kahlua: A Guide to Food and Entertaining." Send cooking questions to JoNel Aleccia, The Mail Tribune, P.O. Box 1108, Medford, OR 97501. Call 776-4465, or send e-mail [email protected] Mail Tribune Copyright � The Mail Tribune 1999, Medford, Oregon USA