Feeding the Masses

I’d like to say that this is a “throw-back Thursday” photo….but it’s not.  It’s also not prop food from “Fargo”.  It’s dinner.  At some point in Henry’s short life he went to a pot-luck and had tater-tot casserole, loved it and now requests it from time to time.  Today was one of those times.  Having grown up in the midwest, I have cream of mushroom soup coursing through my veins and I was in junior high before I realized potatoes didn’t grow in the form of little cylindrical crunchy barrels.  So I know my way around a hot dish.  And since I grew up in a pastor’s household, potlucks and the ubiquitous hot dish was a way of life. It wasn’t just that they were a staple of every potluck, picnic or funeral luncheon, and since we didn’t have a lot of money, a casserole or hot dish was a way for mom to stretch her very tight food budget.  

A few days ago I posted about the handwritten cookbook that mom gave me shortly before she died.  And if you page through it, you’ll find many examples of hot dishes that mom prepared throughout our childhood.   Some good, others not so good.  But all came from my mother’s hands.  A couple of our family favorites included something we called “Russian Hot dish” which we had for the first time at a Russian Orthodox festival in northern Minnesota.  This inter-continental dish was made with ground beef, elbow macaroni and ketchup.  Another staple at our table was a nod to the indigenous population; “Squaw Corn”. This native dish was made with ground beef, bacon and creamed corn.  When we wanted to go “oriental” we’d have beef chow mein; ground beef, the bottom can of La Choy Chow Mein, rice and the top can of crunchy chow mein noodles.  If we wanted it a little bit spicy we’d sparingly drizzle a few drops of soy sauce on top.  Later on in life we had a special hot dish that was fancy enough even for company; “Malaysian Hot dish”  This was sophisticated on several levels.  The first being that it was an exotic array of ingredients but also it was a deconstructed hot dish. The components were artfully presented and each individual assembled it on their own plate.  Malaysian Hot dish was comprised of hamburger, rice, and small bowls of condiments: shredded coconut, ground peanuts, cucumbers, tomatoes, green onions, pimento and I wish I had italics for this….crushed pineapple.  

But for me, my favorite hot dish was the one dish that happened at the end of the month; when the money was gone and even hamburger was beyond our budget.  It’s also the one dish my mom did not include in her book.  I don’t know if it held painful memories, or was just not one of her favorites, but I absolutely love it and to this day, I call it; “End of the Month Hot dish.”  It was simply Birdseye frozen mixed vegetables, béchamel sauce and homemade croutons on top made out of stale bread.  It was simple, wholesome and I loved the garlic buttery crunchy cubes of bread.  

I realize I sound like I’m making fun of my mom’s cooking, but her greatest assets were her ability to feed a family of six for under five dollars, and her sense of humor.  And she would have enjoyed my stories about our family.  As an adult, I appreciate how stressful it probably was for her to feed her brood on a tiny budget.  And who knows what sacrifices she must have made in order to feed us the occasional ham, roast or special dessert.  When she signed up for this gig, she probably had no idea what it entailed.  But we were always fed, sated and happy. 

 

 

Tater Tot Casserole

Baking With Beverly

Shortly before my mom died back in 1988 she gave me my most treasured belonging. In her distinctive script and teacher-like print handwriting, she wrote out some of her most favorite recipes in a simple notebook. This very worn and food-stained book also includes helpful household tips, table prayers and words of wisdom. If you page through it you’ll also find a few recipes where the ink has washed away from having edged into the bath water while I was reading it late at night in the tub. Most of these recipes are etched into my memory and I really no longer need to reference them. But over the years, I find I pull it out often, because of its transformative properties. Seeing the notebook pulls me back to those times when we cooked and baked side by side in her kitchen. If I press my nose against the pages I pick up the faint smell of flour, almond extract and chocolate, and I can still taste her Danish puff pastry, her German chocolate cake and her own mother’s Schaum Torte. When I read her words, I can again hear her voice inside my head, which over the years has become harder and harder to recall. In those raw weeks and months after her sudden death, I would have never thought that my memory of her would ever fade. But over the past twenty-five years time has taken its toll on those memories. I want so much for both Scott and Henry to know her in some manner. So I bake and I cook those special things that I can connect to her. And when Henry wrinkles his nose at the sweet and sour cabbage I place before him, I tell him my mom made it for me when I was his age, and someday he too will learn to relish it. And one day he’ll look through my book and connect those recipes to me as well. My mom grew up on the south side of Milwaukee and on occasions when we visited her family, we’d be treated to O&H Danish Kringle. And when we moved far from there and my mom missed its flakey goodness, she found a recipe for homemade kringle which she tweaked and mastered to make it her own. This year Henry discovered the goodness of Kringle, and while O&H is really fine, it’s not the easiest thing to come by way out here. So this afternoon, I brought out that well worn book and started a batch of my mom’s own Danish kringle. For a while today, mom and I baked side by side in my kitchen, and my hands became her hands gently kneading the dough. And when Henry takes a bite of Bev’s Kringle, maybe on some level, not yet apparent to him, he too will be transformed.