Retro Recipes and Traditional Fare

Tuscans have a very simple and rustic cuisine, characterized by hearty stews, soups, baked goods, and beans. Tuscan bread is the one that's famous for being made without salt. Outside of Tuscany, many people are unfamiliar with the traditional foods, namely sweets. But there's one dessert that's particularly popular around this time of year in Tuscany.

Castagnaccio is traditionally made in the fall and winter months, and is often served during the holidays. It's like a cake but it doesn't rise. It's made from chestnut flour since chestnuts (castagna) are abundant in Tuscany. The cake is not so much sweet as it is earthy. The only ingredients it needs are water and oil. The toppings are what make it special—wine-soaked raisins, pine nuts, orange zest, and rosemary. It's really a cake that's meant to be paired with a glass of Vin Santo and slowly savored at the end of an evening.

The texture of the cake is unique, maybe a little thick and even fudge like, but only in appearance. You'll need a large shallow pan, like a paella, to make it. The chestnut flour can easily be sourced in Italian markets. If you prefer, you could substitute the pine nuts with chopped walnuts and the raisins with other chopped dried fruit. The rosemary adds a nice aromatic touch, but if you don't like herbs on your dessert, you can omit it. You'll really like castagnaccio this Christmas!

For some reason, I recently had a hankering for Chocolate Mayonnaise cake, a staple in our house when I was growing up. If you're not familiar with it, it's a wonderfully moist chocolate cake that was created, according to food legend, by the wife of a Hellman's mayonnaise salesman to help increase his sales. Although it may seem like an odd ingredient, the mayonnaise is used in place of eggs and oil, making it handy to throw together with just a few pantry ingredients.

It was probably one of the first cake recipes that I could make on my own (by age 11 or so), carefully following the directions on the back of the Hellman's Mayonnaise jar. I thought that I'd be able to find the recipe online, but it proved to be a bit of a challenge. None of the current recipes matched the one I followed years ago (most used a cake mix). I knew that original recipe called for boiling water, because it was the one step that always made me nervous as I poured the hot water in a measuring cup.

I felt my big toe push a hole through my fishnet stockings as I stepped on the gas and drove south on Fairfax. I nibbled on the broken corner of my dark red thumb nail and made a right turn onto Pico Boulevard.  I thought about lighting a cigarette to calm myself but didn’t.

I was driving to see “Vertigo Road”, a band that my recently ex-fiance and I knew quite well and my social fears were getting the best of me.  They were playing at a bar with one of those anti-esoteric names I can’t remember exactly, like “The Place”, or “The Gig”, or “The Thing”. 

It was an unseasonably cool night for Los Angeles in early September so, when the closest parking space I found was 8 blocks from the bar, I knew I wouldn’t mind walking.  I flipped down the mirrored visor to check my lipstick and stared at my reflection for a moment.  I hadn’t seen many of these people since the break up and I knew they would search my face and demeanor for clues as to how I was doing.  I wanted to look amazing.  I wanted to seem like I had it all figured out.  I knew that was going to take some effort.  I applied more lipstick.

When I turned off my Honda, it suddenly sounded like I had parked in a war zone.  Sirens screamed and glass shattered.  I was overtaken by the smell in the air.  It was luscious and earthy and charred.  I shut my eyes and gulped the aroma down for a moment and then walked quickly toward the commotion on Pico.  It was a fire.  A big one.  And as mesmerizing as the flames were, nothing could compare to the smell.

The bounty from the berry bushes in my backyard has been great this year. I was able to make another quart of red currant jelly just like last year. The raspberry bushes yielded so much fruit that the options for consumption were unlimited. I wanted to make something more special than jam and it was impossible to eat all the berries fresh. I decided upon making a trifle, one of the most elegant and almost bake-free deserts. Instead of one big trifle, I made six individual trifles for a light dessert to end a recent summer gathering. These personal-size trifles are perfect for those who don't like to share dessert and since there are no seconds, they're guilt-free too.

I had never eaten nor ever heard of a trifle until I traveled to England. Once I had a taste of it there, I immediately became a fan. A week wouldn't go by without a need for me to satisfy my craving for the beautifully layered treat. So I ended up becoming a die-hard devotee of store-bought trifles from Marks & Spencer. Sold in little sealed cups, they were the ideal dessert for me who was always on the go. Every time I passed by a store I would be sure to stop in for either a raspberry or strawberry trifle. I was quite the trifle addict.