jim henson

To a little girl of 5 — a composer of silly songs, a ratty-haired mischief-maker, a writer of skits, a hammy comedian — Jim Henson’s Muppets were hallowed.

In actuality, they were sacred to any fanciful child who digested that spur of creativity that dominated two decades of children’s television. They personified everything a child like that could ever want to become.

This, of course, was long ago, during a time before it became commonplace for parents to censor their children’s intake of playful ruckus, vaudeville humor and any sort of situation that could be misconstrued as politically or socially incorrect. A time before one-dimensional TV characters screeched of bland, yet safe mishmash.

Jim Henson is fairly responsible for educating children of the television generation to music, humor, art, make-believe, unbridled fantasy, and of course, numbers and letters.

His characters on “Sesame Street” and “The Muppet Show” barely graze the list of ingenious creatures that a myriad of young people looked to for inspiration. He had a knack for knowing how children’s minds worked. I’m pretty certain he knew just how far into adulthood his multidimensional work would follow these youths.

“As children, we all live in a world of imagination, of fantasy,” he once said, “and for some of us, that world of make-believe continues into adulthood.”

Whether it was an inventive creature, a fantastical doodle or a song that reached out to little kids feeling unappreciated — and reminded them that it’s not always easy being green — his work was genius. Yet, somehow, he made it seem so simple and easy, almost effortless, as if he had a natural-born talent for combining absurd creativity with wholesome candor. Much like fine food.

“Simple is good” always was Jim’s mantra. The connection between his work and a good chef’s is almost so similar it makes you wonder why he never dabbled in the culinary arts (although many of his characters — including Cookie Monster — got their start selling food during TV commercials). It’s a difficult task to balance creativity with simplicity, but true geniuses — either with their hands inside a puppet or inside a pot — can.

As a salute to Jim Henson, who would have celebrated his 75th birthday on Sept. 24, here’s a simple, yet delicious, recipe taken from an interesting source: “Muppet Picnic Cookbook.” This pamphlet was published in 1981, at the peak of popularity of “the Muppet Show” and distributed by Hallmark.

Favorite recipes from Muppet characters range from Kermit’s Swamp Salad, a spinach salad with a thick Parmesan dressing, to Fozzie Bear’s Corn “You’re Pudding Me On” Pudding.

The Bacon Upside-Down Cornbread, though, is perhaps the winner of the book. So simple, yet so tastefully ingenious. It’s almost a shame this very recipe wasn’t made renowned anytime before or after its publication. Prepared modestly with bacon and pure buttermilk, this recipe is clearly a tip of the hat to Henson’s work.

I was only 7 when Jim Henson died, but I still mourned for lost “Sesame Street” skits, the last of Rowlf the dog’s voice, and the fact that I’d never get to sit on a stool and discuss my favorite number with Kermit and Jim. As young and insignificant as I was, I knew the world had lost a supreme talent.

Like many others who grew up influenced by his artistry, I have him to thank for my own creative endeavors and artful tastes. Often, Henson fans have wondered just where his genius would have taken him if he were alive today — computer animation, more children’s programming, perhaps, and surely, today’s world of food would never be alien to Jim Henson.

“When I was young, my ambition was to be one of the people who made a difference in this world,” Henson once prophesied. “My hope is to leave the world a little better for having been there.”