Retro Recipes and Traditional Fare

Just the mention of my favorite cake and I’m ready for a piece. Not a huge fan of icing or frosting, my traditional birthday cake is always a pound cake, plain and simple. Sour cream, cream cheese, chocolate, fruit flavored and even rum pound cakes abound in the culinary world.

As a fan of most all of these very simple, very elegant, and VERY delicious cakes, the plain ol’ pound cake or whipping cream pound cake just might be my favorite... sour cream and cream cheese respectively in the top three. Mama made this one as is her custom for my birthday...or any other time I pester her enough so she’ll cave in a make me one! The basis is the same. A simple cream (sour, whipping, or cream cheese) that combines with flour, butter, and sugar to make the perfect consistency of cake – augmented by a note of pure vanilla.

Even a scraping of vanilla bean adds the slightest of flavor and visual delight to the cake and whipped cream dollop. Though, for my first birthday, I managed to actually sit in a bakery cake piled and piped with sugary icing and eat my way out of the Sesame Street cake; yet, I developed a love for the goodness that is simply pound cake. Flavor, yes, a major factor, but also for versatility is why this cake is so dear to my heart.

It’s rhubarb season. I took me a while but I have discovered rhubarb. And what I have discovered is that I like them. I like them in a crisp, in a buckle, in a muffin, stewed with other fruit, and in a pie. The word rhubarb was a turn off for me. I don’t know why. I just had a visceral aversion to it.

Then one evening, while out with some of my best friends, at one of my favorite restaurants – Gjelina – we ordered the strawberry rhubarb crisp for dessert. There were several other sweet treats on the table that night, but it was this particular dessert that blew our taste buds away. And it is forever etched in my memory. Cannot wait to go back. I’ll order a few of my favorite small bites and this crisp.

I picked up some rhubarb at the farmers market last weekend. Came home with it and the rest of my loot, and sat down in my comfy, oversized, vintage leather chair. I opened up one of my favorite books; rustic fruit desserts and searched for something to make. I earmarked the rhubarb buckle with ginger crumb as well as the rhubarb oat and pecan crumble.

In celebration of mother’s day, I made the buckle. What could be more satisfying than a piece of this cake, along with a cup of tea for a Sunday afternoon snack? I really can’t think of anything more satisfying...

Whenever I fire up the grill, I always grill corn. I think it makes the perfect summer side dish eaten right from the cob with nothing, not even salt. But often enough after a family dinner, especially the one this past Labor Day weekend, I find myself with a few leftover ears. I'm always trying to come up with new ways to use the corn. I slice it from the cob and use it in rice dishes, in salsas, or make a succotash. But one of my favorite ways to use leftover corn is in a chilled soup.

Here I reimagine the classic French chilled soup, vichyssoise, with the addition of corn. The base of leek and potato is still the same. It's very mellow, but once the corn is added, it brightens and sweetens the soup. My secret ingredient is a sprig of lemon thyme, which adds a citrusy woodsy note. The soup could also be eaten hot, but why not have a bowl of cold soup during the dog days of summer? It's thoroughly refreshing, savory, sweet and most of all cooling.

“…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.