Retro Recipes and Traditional Fare

Chex Mix. It’s one of the simple things of life.

It seems to me Chex Mix has been around forever. I remember my mom mixing up a batch or two each year at Christmas time, following the directions on the box. I also clearly remember all the Wheat Chex remaining at the bottom of the bowl. No one seemed to care for those dark pieces, yet the Wheat Chex always went into the mix.

About 10 years ago, I got gutsy and broke my mother’s Chex Mix mold. I left out the Wheat Chex. I stirred in some Cheerios instead. I changed the seasoning ingredients. Nothing left in the bottom of the bowl any more. After making it at Christmas time and for Super Bowl games for a few years, I forgot all about that mix my family gobbled up each time I made it.

A couple of weeks before Christmas I was staying with my son and daughter-in-law in Fargo for a weekend. I noticed my daughter-in-law had a recipe on the counter for Chex Mix Cha Cha. She had gotten the recipe from me. I’m not sure how I could have totally forgotten about it. I copied it, feeling very uncertain about where I would look for it in my own recipe collection.

When it's incredibly hot outside, like it has been this month, standing by a hot stove is not something anyone wants to do. Grilling outside is another option, but when it's too hot to even do that, what do you do? Why not make a no-cook recipe, like a chilled soup? The cooling qualities of a cold soup are perfect on days where you need a refreshing respite from the sweltering heat. And there's no better way to achieve that than with a cold soup.

The tradition of cold, raw soups comes by way of Spain and their famous gazpachos. Originally, the recipe was made with just bread, garlic, and oil (bread and oil were the thickeners and garlic helped cool the body by way of sweating.) After the New World explorations, tomatoes were added to the recipe, creating what we know of today as the classic gazpacho. Many other nations have cold soups too, just think of borscht. In Hungary cucumber soup is very popular during summer. The pairing of cucumbers and yogurt is one that can be found in Mediterranean, Middle Eastern, and Indian cuisines. This recipe takes inspiration from all of these.

Be careful when you do a Google search for pasties. I was searching for the edible kind, the Cornish kind-- pastry stuffed with meat and vegetables. But, ummmm, you know, the other kind came up. Google misunderstood. It did try, though. Google asked: Did you mean to search for: all about pastry?

I had just returned to my office after a visit with Mark and Peggy Schultz, owners of a pasty (PASS-tee) shop in Turtle River, Minnesota, not far from where I live. After spending time in the Turtle River Pasties kitchen, watching Mark create very chubby pasties, all-butter pastry turnovers stuffed with beef and root vegetables, I was anxious to use the tips he shared with me to make my own batch.

I first learned of pasties over 20 years ago when I was in Ely for a state Legion baseball tournament. They were part of the line-up at the concession stand. A pasty is a little bit like a filled dumpling, but it's baked, not boiled. It's a little bit like a pie with a flaky crust, but it's eaten out of hand, not with a fork. It's a little bit like a sandwich filled with meat and vegetables, but there's no bread involved.

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.