By Patrick F. Cannon
At lunch the other day with some friends, the subject of mom’s cooking came up. Most of us are a bit older than average, so classic family dishes like tuna-noodle casserole were mentioned. One of the group mentioned her mom topped this classic with crumbled potato chips (I must try that, as I’m a potato chip aficionado). Nowadays, of course, culinary triumphs are photographed on one’s cell phone and shared with the world.
When my dear mother was cooking, the cell phone had not yet been invented, and I’m not too sure about the camera either. In fact, I don’t believe my parents ever owned a camera, so any surviving photos of their children were taken by someone else. Imagine not having your every move documented as you grow up? And not being able to “share” the images with all and sundry whether they want to see them or not?
Anyway, my mother’s culinary triumphs were never photographed for posterity. As her son, I feel some obligation to give a wider public some idea of her more imaginative recipes, so that others might try and enjoy them. Perhaps they could be defined as “Legacy” recipes?
We ate a lot of meat and potatoes, and there was nothing particularly adventurous in these everyday menus. She would take a big hunk of meat, salt and pepper it according to her mood, then pop it into the oven for at least 30 minutes longer than necessary. This would insure that all the savory juices were cooked out of the roast. But there was method here. To whatever was left of the juices and other stuck-on stuff at the bottom of the pan was added a mixture of flour and water, creating gravy that could perhaps add some life back to the gray and dry slices of meat and mashed potatoes. Adding some canned peas to the plate would create quite a picture!
But this was everyday stuff. When my mother’s imagination soared, she could create wonders. For example, she would buy a ham steak, of a thickness (or thinness rather) that would guarantee the fried meat would have the consistency of a roof shingle. Then, when it was fried just so, into the pan would be poured a bottle of Maraschino cherries to create a dish I like to call “Jambon al la Maraschino.” This would be accompanied by mashed potatoes (natch) and canned corn.
Another favorite was a preparation called “Casserole de Heinz.” Simplicity itself. To cooked egg noodles, add Heinz Ketchup (no substitutes please), mix thoroughly and top with Oscar Meyer (or your favorite) breakfast sausages. Pop into the oven for a half hour or so, and then serve with canned green beans. Wash it all down with a big glass of milk. Note the balance of protein, carbohydrates and vitamins.
Finally, there was my all time favorite – kidney stew. Take two or three lamb kidneys and cut into bite sized pieces. Put into a large pot full of water. Bring to a simmer and skim the crud off the surface until it stops forming. Do not open the windows, lest the neighbors call the police. Add potatoes and some carrots and cook until they’re very soft. Serve piping hot in bowls. A slice or two of Holsum Bread to soak up the gravy completes a unique experience.
Now, you are unlikely to find kidneys in your supermarket’s meat case. Fortunately, there are still old-fashioned butcher shops in most cities. While they might not have lamb kidneys in stock, they would be happy to order some for you. Despite the curious lack of demand, every little lamb has two kidneys, just like you and me. Chicagoan should consider Joseph’s Finest Meats on West Addison, or Paulina Market on North Lincoln Avenue. By the way, lamb kidneys are actually good for you!
Only I remain to carry on these family recipes. So, I hope one of my loyal readers will take up the challenge and try them out. If you do, please take a cell phone photo to share with your friends, and the wider world on Tik Tok.
#####
Copyright 2023, Patrick F. Cannon
cannonnadedotcom 
Made me recall Mike Royko’s comment when asked to recommend an Irish restaurant:
“Any Walgreen’s.”
LikeLiked by 1 person
Royko would be in his glory now.
LikeLike
In the birth lottery each of us plays, I drew parents of very modest means who sought nourishment in what is rather elegantly termed the “Mediterranean” diet. The phrase suggests images of brilliant sunshine, sparkling waves of blue water, fishing villages with colorful facades, yachts and lissome women in minimalist attire sunning themselves on narrow beaches. But if you look more closely (at the landscape, not the ladies), you will see a harsh and rugged land. Unlike France with its temperate climate and fertile fields, Italy and adjacent countries are composed largely of granite. The terrain is hilly and rocky, poorly suited to agriculture and grazing animals. The threat of earthquakes is ever-present. Mud slides are common. Erosion from forestry has depleted the topsoil. In many places, the hills need to be terraced, through arduous manual labor, so as to create flat spaces in small areas to grow olives, grapes, beans, leafy and root vegetables, and fruit trees. There would be poultry for eggs and meat, also lambs and goats for milk and cheese, and maybe a cow. The remainder of the diet was foraged: chestnuts, wild greens, mushrooms, herbs. Nothing was ever wasted. Some have characterized the cuisine that derives from such conditions as “povera” or poor, as in poverty. But a more accurate description would be adaptive, or better yet, inventive, born of necessity.
My mother was no accomplished cook, though she cooked every day, and very frugal. We always ate together as a family, so what you saw on your plate was what you got. I remember plenty of bean or vegetable soups, with hefty amounts of pasta or rice. There would be an occasional portion of meat, a lamb chop, cutlet, chicken or stew, and thankfully less frequently, a serving of offal: lamb brains, beef tongue, liver, tripe, head cheese, blood sausage. There always was wine on the table (from a gallon jug below it). I didn’t realize it then, but I was eating the components of what now might be considered a gourmet diet!
What I eat today really hasn’t changed that much (except for the offal), even though the available selection of food has expanded exponentially. I don’t care much for Mexican or Asian food. Sushi to me is a bucket of bait. I hate cilantro. And what’s with the bland green slime avocados? The local Hoosier cuisine is best avoided. Can you imagine starting the day with a plate of biscuits and gravy? Most mothers these days seem too educated and too busy with their activities or careers to bother about what their kiddos stuff their faces with. Women who cook for their families are a vanishing breed. I guess we were lucky.
LikeLiked by 1 person
We ate together too. While the cuisine wasn’t great, there was plenty and I was always hungry! I feel the same about sushi, but I can tolerate some Mexican food. My loathing of the avocado is well known!
LikeLike
I think a lot of American cooking in the 1950s was similar to what you got at home. Good old Anglo-Saxon fare. The increase in international travel and tourism seems to have improved things. In Dublin (B. Mason’s meeting), I remember the quality of vegetables etc., especially delicious potatoes, as actually being very good. The preparation was, shall we say, uneven. Same thing in New Zealand. I remember a steakhouse there that prompted the old joke: You can’t buy a decent pair of shoes anymore, all the good leather is going into steaks. I imagine (hope) by now they’ve got the cooking part down.
LikeLiked by 1 person