Retro Recipes and Traditional Fare

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.

What a perfect time to declare it to be New England clam chowder week because the temperature here in Maine has been zero degrees at night and the wind has been a howling! Recipes for chowder are pretty personal  around here. Some old salts would never use rendered bacon fat to sauté their onions in, they'd stop listening to you, roll their eyes and turn up their noses. Salt pork is how the old timers started chowder, period. Quahogs, not likely, either.

I'm telling you from experience you can't please too many people here in Maine with chowder because it's never like their mother's. Perhaps they will taste it, but if you leave the room they all will be chatting about "where did she learn to make chowder, Howard Johnson's"?  But, I'll take a shot at MY way of making it and hope that I don't take too much heat for it.

First off, you need 2 1/2 to 3 pounds of steamer clams, yup, steamers. What's a steamer clam, you ask? It's a soft shell clam that lives in sandy or muddy Atlantic shoreline. If you're lucky enough to have a choice, pick the mud clams. Nothing complicated, the mud washes away after several soakings, but God couldn't get all the grit and sand out even with an army to help. There's alway some crunchy grit left, period! Clean the fresh steamers well and go directly from the sink to a waiting large 6 quart heavy bottomed pot, turn the heat on medium and cover. You caught me, no water! Be brave...

Okay, It is true, I admit it!  I make skillet jam, no really, I DO...No fanfare, no canning jars or water bath cauldrons just a non-stick skillet, some ripe, fragrant fruit, sugar and a lemon. That's it! This may not sound like a shortcut, but once you put this on the table some Sunday morning you'll forget that it took you half an hour or so to make. Well maybe 45 minutes until you get less nervous about making jam...

I prepare the fruit by peeling and cutting it into inch-size pieces or in the case of berries mash lightly with a potato masher.  My formula is 3 cups of fruit, 1/2  to 3/4 cup of sugar to taste and all the juice of half a lemon. Start on medium heat, stirring to combine the sugar into the cut fruit with your best wooden spoon. If it seems like there isn't enough liquid add water or wine or fruit juice-be creative, there are NO rules and this is suppose to be fun and it is all YOUR creation, no one else's!  I let the fruit cook down (simmer happily) but if the there are some fruit pieces that are too large for your liking use your wooden spoon to "gently" breakdown the fruit into the size you prefer. Taste it, does it need more lemon juice? Perhaps more sugar, a touch of vanilla extract?

There used to be this hole-in-the-wall place in Hollywood serving these super-juicy out-of-this-world burgers. Cheese and kraut were literally melting and dripping down the sides as well as my fingers and chin. I swear these burgers were messier than a Tommy's burger, and that's saying something. I used to frequent this place when I was interning for an entertainment company right across the street from the old Grauman's Chinese Theater.

I wish I could remember what the place was called, but twenty years have passed and I can barely remember last week. It was the type of eatery only locals frequented or knew about. The bead board walls were shabbily painted red. There were a few scratched up tables and not much else but a giant flat top grill and a register. Two guys in the back flipped some of the best burgers I can recall. They took "cash only". Who knows if they are still around, but their kraut burgers have lived on in my mind.

Since Father's Day is on the forefront it's time to start thinking about "manly food" and what to make for the dad's in our lives. Fermented foods like sauerkraut have also been on my mind. My current work with Sargento has me investigating fermented foods as a culinary trend.