Retro Recipes and Traditional Fare

When I was growing up in England in the fifties and sixties, there was a snack called a flapjack that could be occasionally bought at bakeries but was more often found in homes, served up by diligent housewives. It was never found at my home: the only time my mother turned on the stove was to light a cigarette. But some of my friends’ mothers did make them, and the sweet, buttery smell of freshly baked flapjacks is one of those childhood aromas that still haunt me today.

Now, for the American reader a point of clarification is required. British flapjacks bear absolutely no resemblance to American ‘flapjacks’, which seems to be just another word for pancakes. The British flapjack is a unique item unto itself, but if a comparison is required, I suppose a granola bar would come closest in look and texture. But it is simpler, more elemental, only requiring four ingredients (long before Michael Pollan came up with his five ingredient mantra): oats, sugar, butter and golden syrup.

There is no soup more classic than the French onion soup. It's famous around the world and here in the United States, no bistro menu is without it. It's a soup that is ultimately comforting, flavorful, and adored by everyone who tries it. The best part is breaking through the irresistible topping of bread and melted cheese. No wonder so many people have claimed to be its inventor.

I first came across French onion soup a couple of years ago when a small group of friends and I gathered to celebrate my birthday at Cafe Deville, a rustic French bistro in the East village. We gorged on crusty bread, wine, escargot in butter, and ordered everything that was stereotypically French, including French onion soup. The cheese in that bowl was so stretchy that a knife was needed. It was a very memorable time. Good fun was had by all and the bottle of wine helped too.

“…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.

I love beans. There I said it. I mean, don't you love them too? Beans can stretch any meal far beyond the usual menu ideas.  There are countless sauces and toppings that can be incorporated with beans and served over rice and pasta. Let's not mention the affordability of this very fine staple.

I do suppose there are those who suffer lots of intestinal-distress when consuming beans, luckily, I am not one of them. Too much information? Maybe.

Anyway, these white beans in tomato sauce, scented with rosemary, are even better a day or two after cooking. They make a great side dish and are easily reheated. My favorite way to eat them is with a generous helping of freshly, grated Parmesan cheese. It melts all over the warm beans and it's just fantastic.