Retro Recipes and Traditional Fare

I was given this recipe by a friend over 10 years ago. and I have been making it for years. It’s perfect for a bar-b-que side dish that always gets rave reviews, and it does in fact feed a huge crowd. The original ingredients were filled with preservatives; Jiffy corn bread mix, canned creamed corn, canned corn, etc.

I haven’t made it for over a year and with this coming week being a holiday, the invitations to dinners and pool parties was on the agenda. All of the fresh corn at the farmers market inspired me to dig up the original recipe. I knew I wasn’t going to use the boxed ingredient, for two reasons; it’s boxed and it’s not gluten free.

After searching for creamed corn without all of the stuff in it, I decided to simply make my own. No, really, it’s not that hard. The additional ingredients of eggs, butter, and sour cream all still worked.

Be careful when you do a Google search for pasties. I was searching for the edible kind, the Cornish kind-- pastry stuffed with meat and vegetables. But, ummmm, you know, the other kind came up. Google misunderstood. It did try, though. Google asked: Did you mean to search for: all about pastry?

I had just returned to my office after a visit with Mark and Peggy Schultz, owners of a pasty (PASS-tee) shop in Turtle River, Minnesota, not far from where I live. After spending time in the Turtle River Pasties kitchen, watching Mark create very chubby pasties, all-butter pastry turnovers stuffed with beef and root vegetables, I was anxious to use the tips he shared with me to make my own batch.

I first learned of pasties over 20 years ago when I was in Ely for a state Legion baseball tournament. They were part of the line-up at the concession stand. A pasty is a little bit like a filled dumpling, but it's baked, not boiled. It's a little bit like a pie with a flaky crust, but it's eaten out of hand, not with a fork. It's a little bit like a sandwich filled with meat and vegetables, but there's no bread involved.

“…definitely the tuna tartare, and the hazelnut crusted chicken, and… then a nice, big crudite platter…”

My client was reviewing my menu suggestions for her 150-guest cocktail party, adding the last one on her own.

“NO”, I said, a little more aggressively than I had intended. “No”, softer now, but with the same sentiment. “I just can’t do crudite anymore.”

My client paused. The phone was silent. “Ok”, I caved, “we’ll figure something out. Maybe a small crudite is alright.”

Years ago, I worked as a free-lance chef for a big-time catering company in Los Angeles. We would cater colossal parties for the astronomically rich, where every display was over the top. There were epic platters of food – with sausages and cheese flown in from other countries and cupcake towers the size of New York brownstones.

We would cut vegetables for days, whittling jicama and carrot wedges into little pointy daggers, nipping the tops off radishes, and blanching broccoli and sugar snap peas into the brightest green they could be. It was a thing of beauty for sure, but we had to buy and cut three times more veggies than anyone could ever eat.

Catering is all about making platters look full at all times – which means there has to be tons of coverage. We have to make sure that if someone suddenly goes on a Persian cucumber binge, the display still looks abundant. Hey, nothing says success like excess, right? Well, 75% of the cascading peppers, baby tomatoes, and asparagus would wind up in the garbage. It was heartbreaking.

Growing up I spent a lot of vacations traveling up the California coast.  It always seemed our first stop was a small town just north of Santa Barbara known as Buellton.  Here we would stop at Pea Soup Anderson's to have...wait for it...their famous split pea soup.
 
I don't think it was the best pea soup I've ever had but I do know it is where I became a fan of this hardy, green liquid.  There was something about stopping at Pea Soup Anderson's that seemed special.  I'm not sure if it was the giant windmill turning out front or going into the gift shop and buying some candy that made it exciting.  I just remember loving it.

Split pea soup is so easy to make.  It falls into the category of "set it, and forget it" for me.  This recipe is quite tasty and doesn't require any additional seasoning.  We love it with crusty bread on these beautiful but cold winter days.