Pan-Fried Bananas

You know that feeling you get when you want to eat something but no one is around to cook you food? This happens to me almost every day. Instead of feasting on my large stash of leftover Halloween candy, though, today I decided to try a new vintage recipe.

I looked in the kitchen to see what sounded good. I spotted some bananas and thought I could probably make something quick and easy from the Chiquita Banana's Recipe Book and I was right! Here is my interpretation of:

Pan-Fried Bananas

1) Peel four firm bananas. 

Or maybe just peel one banana because I'm not sure how this is going to turn out. Also because I'm only making this for myself and not a party of four. Though fried bananas probably wouldn't be my first choice of party food even if there were four of us here.

2) Keep whole or cut crosswise into halves. Fry bananas slowly in butter or margarine until tender...easily pierced with a fork...turning them to brown evenly. 

3) Sprinkle lightly with salt. Serve hot as a vegetable. Four servings.

Serve hot as a vegetable? What does that even mean? As opposed to a mushy lukewarm fruit? How is this banana going to transform into a vegetable just because I let it spend some time in a skillet with butter? I looked again to the photo for help and noticed this notation under the recipe:

IMPORTANT: Pan-Fried or Broiled Bananas, served as a hot vegetable, are excellent flavor partners with fish, meat, poultry or eggs for luncheon or dinner. Pan-Friend Bananas with hamburger patties and whole carrots make an appetizing, colorful and nutritious plate combination.

So it's about what you serve it with. Okay. I looked again in the fridge and found some sausage patties and baby carrots. Close enough--let's do this!

At the bottom of the page there was another recipe for "Bananas Pan-Fried with Ham and Eggs" where I read this note/variation:

Sausage or bacon may be used in place of ham but should be fried separately. Sausage or bacon and cooked bananas make an excellent flavor combination. 

And you know what? They're right! All in all, this weird little plate of food tasted pretty good! There's something about the salty sausage and the sweet banana that's really good together. I'm not sure where the carrots come in, but I guess it added a little veggie legitimacy to this dish.

I might make this again sometime--after all, who isn't looking for good vegetable recipes?

Betty Crocker’s Absurd, Gorgeous Atomic-Age Creations

For all of you mid-century fans out there, you may have already enjoyed perusing this article that ran last week in the New York Times. It's a delightfully eye-popping attempt to make sense of the strange culinary concoctions from the 1950s and 60s. 

Betty Crocker’s Absurd, Gorgeous Atomic-Age Creations   

The iconic brand’s midcentury recipes evoke the era’s peculiar optimism, encased in gelatin and smothered in mayonnaise.
 

Photographs by MAURIZIO CATTELAN AND PIERPAOLO FERRARI and TEXT BY TAMAR ADLEROCT. 27, 2015

One of my favorite passages from the article:

And yet maybe because I was born too late — because I am unscarred by the trauma of festive buffets abundant with canned green beans in white sauce — I see qualities in the Betty Crocker Recipe Card Library that do not seem ridiculous or deserving of pillory.

Its recipes weren’t written to appeal to the palate. Their instructions were designed to make the Teenage Fondue or Party Sandwich Loaf look a certain way: theatrical, performative, misleading. The focus on tuning precise colors and shapes — the shocking green of ‘‘Lime Ribbon Delight’’ or the perfect heart shape of ‘‘Cherry Berries on a Cloud’’ or simply the persistent symmetry of concentric circles and shingles — is here, as in all arts and crafts, a means for triggering observation.

There is something very human in the desire to turn food, which we are impelled by biology to notice, into a spectacle.

It certainly speaks to what I've enjoyed about writing this blog--and maybe a little of what you've enjoyed about reading it. :) 

So feast your eyes on this delectable spread and come back here soon for my latest take on such a fascinating era of food. You know, maybe it's time to break into the gelatin recipes...

The Stew of Distinction

There's this strange phenomenon that happens every time we visit our parents. No matter how long the visit, we always seem to come home with food. Here are some commonly heard statements as we're packing up the car to go home:

"Do you want anything from the freezer? There's a cooler on the back porch."

"Dad made you this whole tiramisu. I'll wrap it up for you."

"We made [insert dish of choice here] last night and had a ton of leftovers. Now you'll have dinner for the next six days!"

"Want this half gallon of milk? It's about to expire."

"I made salsa from the tomatoes in the garden. Here's a Tupperware full of sloshing red liquid for the car. Oo, watch that lid, now."

"We still have a bunch of cherry tomatoes in the garden, want to take some? Great, here's 500 in a plastic bag."

Don't get me wrong, we are SO grateful to have four parents who are so generous with their surplus food. It made a world of difference when we were first starting out with no money and an over-reliance on Hamburger Helper. Even now--six years, a house, a dog, and many paychecks later--these offerings continue to add some tasty, home-cooked variety to our fridge.

The last time I was in Urbana, my parents made the following decree before I left: "Take some beef from the freezer. We need to make room for another half cow coming from the butcher on Tuesday."

We don't eat much red meat so I didn't know what I was looking for or how much we would need. I looked through the dozens of cuts of meats in the freezer and randomly selected a roast and a package of beef cubed for stew. (My mom called later to tell me I didn't take enough. Go figure.)

I wasn't sure what to do with this new bounty of meat, so I flipped through The Homemaker's Meat Recipe Book to guide me in my beef consumption. On the first page of the cookbook I found this epic recipe, and suddenly I knew exactly what I would make with that cubed beef:

"Featured on the front cover and reproduced here is a distinctive version of a great American dish--the stew. That this meat dish can be truly outstanding on any table is borne out by the photograph and recipe appearing on this page."

The Stew of Distinction
1 1/2 pounds beef, veal, or lamp for stew
3 tablespoons lard or drippings
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
Pepper
3 cups water
4-6 medium carrots
4-6 medium white onions
1 small bunch celery, cut into 4-inch pieces
Tomato dumplings
Paprika

1. Brown meat slowly in lard or drippings. Season. 

Strangely enough, cutting open the package of drippy red meat is the hardest part for me. It's gross and I'm afraid I'm going to under cook everything and make everyone sick. I know this is irrational, but I think this is why I generally tend to avoid cooking meat. With more practice, that fear should subside.

2. Add water. Cover and simmer about 2 1/2 hours for beef; 2 hours for veal; 1 1/2 hours for lamb.

Okay, that's done. Now what am I going to do for another two hours or so before it's time for the next step? Oh I know, I'll work ahead! This recipe calls for onions, carrots, and celery, but doesn't indicate to chop them. From the picture, it looks like everything is supposed to be cooked whole in the pot and then ladled and arranged on a platter. I wanted this to be more of a soup-like stew, so I decided to get a head start on chopping my veggies into bite-sized pieces.

Ten minutes later, I still had quite a bit of time on the clock. And some leftover celery. Knowing I had miles to go before dinner, I decided to make a snack to tide me over.

Yes, those are two varieties of ants on a log: regular ants (raisins) and fire ants (craisins). Sheila supervised the peanut butter application and this snack was *this close* to turning into ants on a dog! Groan, I know. (That pun was courtesy of Taylor, by the way.)

Let's fast-forward about two hours!

3. About 30 minutes before meat is tender, add carrots, onion, and celery. 

4. Fifteen minutes before serving, drop Tomato Dumplings on top of meat and vegetables.
Ah, what's a tomato dumpling you ask? Let's consult the recipe book!

Tomato Dumplings
1 1/2 cups sifted enriched flour
1 teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon baking powder
1 egg beaten
1 tablespoon lard, melted
1/2 cup tomato juice

 

Sift together flour, salt, and baking powder. Combine egg, melted fat, and tomato juice. Combine mixture with dry ingredients, stirring only until flour disappears.

This results in a sticky, doughy mixture, which I dropped by the spoonful on top of the stew.

5. Cover and cook 12 minutes without removing cover. Remove stew to hot platter, arranging vegetables and dumplings in separate mounds around meat. 

Look how pretty those dumplings are! They rose up but still stayed sticky--for some reason I imagined they would be more like biscuits, but they were definitely dumplings.


6. Sprinkle dumplings with paprika. Thicken liquid with flour for gravy, if desired. 4 to 6 servings.

I didn't serve the stew in mounds on a platter, but I did ladle it out into bowls for dinner.  Like a normal person. And it was really good! The tomato dumplings were...new...but they added a nice texture to help thicken up the stew. And the beef was tender and thoroughly cooked, much to my delight. I'll definitely make this again!

Now, we do have a ton of leftover tomato juice after this recipe. I wonder if our parents might like to take some home with them next time they come to visit...