Retro Recipes and Traditional Fare

My Dad was crazy about this; it's what I recall him craving the most. He always happily obliged my mother as chief taster when she was in the kitchen trying to get the flavors just right.

I know my Dad was smiling down from heaven the other day as he watched us make his prized Sauerkraut.

However, sauerkraut is not what we called this dish, being Polish, we referred to it as kapusta (kah-POOS-tah), a word meaning cabbage. It just sounds wrong.

Anyway, I grew up on this stuff. Just the aromatics alone take me back to my childhood kitchen. I can still see the pot my mother cooked it in and my Dad standing there, waiting to inform her if it was sour enough or needed more salt.

It's a good memory but one that leaves me a bit emotional.

With the blustery weather the Northern hemisphere is having right now, there are plenty of reasons to stay in and gather with family over holiday food. And for safety's sake, I just hope that is what most people are doing. There are many dishes that create a sense of togetherness, but none is as famous as fondue. This dish of melted cheese originates from the Alps. The Swiss popularized and designated it a national dish in the 1930s. It eventually crossed the pond and became extremely popular in suburban America during the 1960s. There are also French and Italian versions, like Fonduta, as it's called in Italy.

Fonduta is a specialty of Piedmont and Valle d’Aosta. It is made with fontina, a young cow's milk cheese that melts much like mozzarella. Its taste is similar to other Alpine cheeses, like Gruyère and Emmental from Switzerland. The big difference between Swiss fondue and fonduta is that the Italian recipe does not include wine, garlic, or cornstarch as thickener. Instead fonduta is made with butter, milk, and egg yolks as thickener. It comes together much like custard and is made in a bain-marie, a double boiler. The final dish is richly flavored and silken. It's ideal for a communal gathering of family or a New Year's Eve party with friends. Just add a roaring fire, and complete the Alpine feel.

Chex Mix. It’s one of the simple things of life.

It seems to me Chex Mix has been around forever. I remember my mom mixing up a batch or two each year at Christmas time, following the directions on the box. I also clearly remember all the Wheat Chex remaining at the bottom of the bowl. No one seemed to care for those dark pieces, yet the Wheat Chex always went into the mix.

About 10 years ago, I got gutsy and broke my mother’s Chex Mix mold. I left out the Wheat Chex. I stirred in some Cheerios instead. I changed the seasoning ingredients. Nothing left in the bottom of the bowl any more. After making it at Christmas time and for Super Bowl games for a few years, I forgot all about that mix my family gobbled up each time I made it.

A couple of weeks before Christmas I was staying with my son and daughter-in-law in Fargo for a weekend. I noticed my daughter-in-law had a recipe on the counter for Chex Mix Cha Cha. She had gotten the recipe from me. I’m not sure how I could have totally forgotten about it. I copied it, feeling very uncertain about where I would look for it in my own recipe collection.

One day when I was a little girl watching my mom make dinner, I asked her why we weren't a "meat and potatoes" family. She said, "That's because we're Italian, and we eat good food."

I remember thinking, was meat and potatoes bad food? Would it make you sick? I suddenly felt sorry for all those kids at school whose moms cooked meat and potatoes. I secretly wished I could bring them home for dinner so they could have good food like my mom's eggplant parmigiana, escarole and beans, and macaroni with gravy and meatballs.

Other than the once-a-year New England boiled pot roast with potatoes and carrots, my mom never made meat and potatoes meals, and I don't either. The closest I get to making meat and potatoes is a burger and fries, which suits Jeff just fine since his mother also never made meat and potatoes.