Retro Recipes and Traditional Fare

I had a cooking breakthrough this past week that I want to share with you. Because Jill is eating more and more veganly and handling a lot of her own shopping and preparation, I end up cooking a lot of dishes for myself. And I’m finding this has liberated me in a number of ways.

Instead of measuring or checking the recipe for amounts, I just say to myself, “How much of that do I feel like today?” And I throw in just that much.

Without having to worry about this person’s salt problem, that person’s meat problem, this person’s wheat allergy, that person’s fat phobia – my dishes are turning out just the way I like them.

A recent carbonara is a perfect example: Carbonara is an emotional dish – it’s bacon and eggs, on pasta, with cheese, with lots of black pepper.

One theory is that the name “carbonara,” which means, “in the style of the coal-workers” really comes from the fact that the black pepper scattered on top looks like coal dust. I’m going with that theory. I think a lot of pepper makes this dish.

Allora.

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.

Leave it to my grandmother’s generation to have a delicious dessert with gelatin. A standby ingredient of the “greatest generation,” gelatin is often forgotten these days. Yet, this one ingredient provides a fantastic texture and appearance for dessert dishes. Strawberry Charlotte Russe is an “oldie but goodie,” for its name is derivative of Russian royalty and French culinary prowess.

With strawberries coming into season here in the Deep South, this Farmer is exploring a few old faithful recipes. A Charlotte Russe is delicious with any in season berry (black, blue or rasp) but especially good with strawberries. Though there are methods of ringing the mousse like dessert with additional lady fingers, tying with ribbons, and presenting in more formal fashions, I simply prefer to mound this delicacy in a pretty serving dish, scoop onto lovely dessert serving pieces, eat and enjoy the very essence of the season. There is something special about using family pieces, and my Mimi’s great Aunt Mamie's china is just the token for a dainty dessert. Though highly elegant, this dessert is severely easy to prepare and it's sure to be a hit with you and yours.

Making gumbo is a ritual in my family. We make it when the New Orleans Saints play their first game of the season. We make it after Thanksgiving. We make it Super Bowl Sunday. We make it for just about any occasion that falls between Friday and Sunday, since it gets better every time we heat it up and we want those three days to enjoy it.

Gumbo is the reason for the big variety of hot sauces in my fridge. It's also one of the reasons I work out at least an hour every day. And it reminds me of when my family lived in Shreveport, Louisiana.

It's no accident that all of the food I'm passionate about leads back to family. It was Faith Ford, a born-and-raised Louisianan, though, who first introduced me to the food from the Creole State. She made an amazing gumbo, along with mind-blowing black-eyed peas that are a Southern tradition on New Year's Day. They're thought to bring good luck and wealth.

But it wasn't until my youngest brother, Pat, married his wife, Stacy, who is also from Louisiana, that we all became gumbo zealots. You get a good sense of the two of them as soon as you find out their recipe begins with a six-pack of beer---and those are for the cooks (they assume at least two cooks) to consume as they make the gumbo.