Retro Recipes and Traditional Fare

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.

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.

When my friend Sara from Culinerapy visited Concord, Mass. last year, she made a reader’s pilgrimage to Orchard House, the historic home of Louisa May Alcott. Since Sara and I (and half the women we know) share an abiding love for Alcott’s 1868 novel Little Women, she sent me a thoughtful souvenir: the author’s recipe for Apple Slump. It’s a homey, deliberately simple dessert, comfort cousin to fruit buckles, bettys, cobblers, grunts and pandowdys. Still, reading the calligraphy-script recipe, I could see where I might tweak it. And I thought, who am I to edit Louisa May Alcott?

Not editing, really. Finessing. Alcott may have mastered prose at the desk, but in the kitchen she was likely closer to Jo March, for whom the “bread burned black” and the “cream turned sour.” Making Apple Slump would be like cooking with Ms. Alcott’s domestically-challenged ghost, and while I cored and sliced I considered my years reading and rereading the March girls, picturing Amy’s limes, Meg’s vain high heels and lonely Jo in the attic with apples, writing and cursing scarlet fever, the villain that stole Beth. I regretted that my little tweaks – dash of vanilla, an extra apple – could not make Laurie come to his senses and dump Amy. Pecans would add crunch but they would never make Jo marry Laurie, nor bring Beth back. They’re a matter of personal taste, like my feelings about Meg wedding that dull John Brooke, and while they won’t change the story they can at least enhance Ms. Alcott’s kitchen legacy, and certainly perk up the Slump.

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.