I recently bought a vintage cookbook from the 1920s called Cook and Be Cool. I couldn’t resist the directive in the title. It turned out to be more literal than I thought, referring to “hot weather housekeeping” and summer luncheon recipes that could be made without turning on your oven. The cover is illustrated with a glamorous flapper-style hostess gazing demurely at her elegantly set table, the title in pale pink letters hovering over her head. The collection is presented as a series of formal menus, each one beginning with a carefully conceived appetizer. Reading through it, I could perfectly visualize a single stuffed sardine, tomato canapé, or bouillon wafer sitting placidly in the middle of each plate.