Retro Recipes and Traditional Fare

Well I'm back.  I guess I took a vacation of sorts.  Since my Mom was visiting I took some time to hang out and just relax.  Except we didn't relax at all.  If we weren't out and about, we were cooking and cooking and cooking.

I swear it was like America's Test Kitchen.  As soon as we would take a pie out of the oven we would put another back in.  Sometimes it was the same type of pie, just a different crust.

Ultimately in our pie-baking ventures, we concluded, crusts made with shortening are easiest to work with and taste the best.  The butter crusts just didn't compare.  I really didn't believe that would be the case but was so true.  The shortening crusts were flakier and much easier to roll out.  My Mom has always made her crusts with shortening and it was nice to finally do side-by-side comparisons.  Shortening is definitely the way to go.

When I was a kid, we always had Mom's Mile High Lemon Meringue Pie.  I was always impressed by the sheer beauty of this dessert.  I could never understand how the fluffy topping could go in the oven and survive.

Traditionally this fish would be cooked in parchment paper, and opened at the table (See NY Times article: "The Envelope Please: Cooking En Papillote") but I find the task somewhat tedious and prefer the much easier-to-use aluminum foil.

Haddock or Cod work best in this recipe and the few simple ingredients make it easy to throw together – especially in the summer when the zucchini is abundant and the tomatoes are at peak flavor.

You can make the fish packets ahead and just bake them when you’re ready for dinner.

I spent a year living in Europe, and six months of that was in Italy. Having eaten a lot of Italian food, I like to think I understand it, perhaps just a little. In fact, whenever I try to recreate an Italian dish I think back to earlier versions that I've eaten. What was it that I liked about it? What was the essence of the dish?

In all my time in Italy, I don't remember trying mostarda. It's not surprising really because the most well-known versions come from Veneto, Lombardia and Piemonte. Most of my time was spent in Tuscany. But I still think I understand mostarda, just a bit. It's like an Italian chutney I suppose. Don't make the mistake of translating it as "mustard". Mostarda does have a little bit of mustard in it, but it's really a combination of preserved fruit in syrup with a bit of a kick. The kick comes from mustard oil, mustard essence, dry mustard, mustard seeds or some combination thereof. Other ingredients include sugar or honey, wine, vinegar and sometimes citrus juice.

When I am developing a recipe, I often look for several variations then strike off on my own. The recipes I found for mostarda varied greatly--some used dry fruit, others fresh fruit. Some cooked slowly others cooked quickly. Some had lots of mustard, others barely a pinch. My own experiment lead me to this conclusion: Mostarda is very forgiving and can easily be made to your own taste. You can taste as you go and make changes.

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.