Undaunted

Emma was born in 1892, and in 1980 I lived in her basement and she gave me a 1940 seafood cookbook pamphlet, me being a Midwesterner living on the east coast where fish was the cheapest food, and I have treasured the cookbook, especially the Fish Roll recipe I made several times to feed hungry me and drug-addled friends, all so mentally ill we stayed out 'til 4 a.m. listening to bands like The Young Snakes and Rubber Rodeo singing songs like "Life Sucks, Then You Die," and vomiting, etc. Emma didn't like when police came to the house looking for "Eric" or whoever. . . "Unexpected guests will not daunt a hostess who knows how to make a fish roll," said the cutline beneath the illustration -- and in honor of those days we used to sleep ("crash") on bare hardwood floors, today having on hand 1.5 cups of  leftover cooked fish and an onion and some parsley in place of green pepper, I got out the cookbook (pictured) and made the frugal fish roll (result, pictured).

I used one of those baggies of Bisquick baking mix. The recipe was supposed to serve 6. In 2019 it serves 3. Great way to make leftover fish appealing.

A daunted hostess? Me, never. In grad school out east, fellow grad students, easterners and Midwesterners, all of us extremely thin, dropped by my place to chat and after a while might venture, "Uh, you wouldn't have, like, anything to eat around here, would you?" Food has always been my second-highest priority, after rent.

Raisin Rye

Hankering for Raisin Rye bread I went from bakery to bakery inquiring. The bakers, sounding puzzled, said "Raisin rye?" "No, we never made that," as if they never heard of it. In Hermann, MO, where the German bakeries are, I again asked for raisin rye. None. Strange; I used to have it all the time (good with tuna salad, or for breakfast) -- or so it seemed. Friends hadn't heard of it. Did the world run out of it? Had I dreamt it? I googled it and it was not a dream.

I probably never bought raisin rye bread in St. Louis. It's not a German bread. Some say it has French origins but my hometown 400 miles from here is full of  Swedes and Danes, and they bake and are known for rye breads (as are the Finns) because in Scandinavia wheat won't grow but rye will. Dried grapes from warmer places on the continent came to Scandinavian port cities, and somebody put them in rye bread where they are very tasty. It's a food from my childhood. Thus my instinctual and inexplicable craving for it.

This fragrant home-baked loaf is probably a travesty because I added density and bite with a tablespoon of pumpernickel in with the wheat and rye flours. Recipes include shortening, molasses, cocoa, sourdough, coffee, cardamom, pecans or walnuts, fennel, orange zest, the water you plump the raisins in, grated Vitamin C, cinnamon, icing, buttermilk and starter, to name a few; such an array that raisin rye seems like an edible canvas bakers paint with their favorite flavors. Lots of bakers won't work with rye; it has no gluten so it doesn't assume the same lordly shapes of classic wheat breads.

Making Kale Chips in the Microwave

Crisp and ready to salt and eat.

This is an easy way to eat your kale. Wash the kale, tear it into bite-sized pieces and let it dry thoroughly, as thoroughly as you'd dry lettuce. Then toss the leaves with a small spoonful of olive oil until each leaf is oiled and shines. Now arrange them on a plate, with some space between each leaf. Then microwave on High for three minutes. Only 3 minutes, that's right! They will shrink but are now finished and crisp. Salt them to your taste.

Oiled and plated for cooking.

After microwaving.

Homegrown

Wildlife ate my perennial flowers every year, so to spite them I planted spring onions all around the house where flowers should go, and the onions grow unmolested and naturalize into huge crops, ready just now. An Asian cookbook showed me several new and strange recipes using scallions and other store-bought vegetables and fruits I'd bought too much of, simply because spring makes me do that, and I had to get cooking today.

In the photos, please see:

Korean Stir-Fry Noodles (cabbage, carrot, mushroom, scallions, with bean thread noodles and black sesame seeds); Hot and Sour Soup (with tofu cubes); Scallion Flatbread (unleavened, skillet-fried); and Two-Banana Salad made with bananas and banana peppers, thus its name; a taste sensation with lime juice and soy sauce, it definitely requires the use of bananas less ripe than mine, and chopped peanuts to top it off; it was the day's only misfire. Asian Asparagus-Spinach Salad I'll make tomorrow; today I made one familiar recipe, the Italian-flag Antipasto Bowl with steamed asparagus and mozzarella. Also shown, an inspirational bunch of homegrown scallions.

A Dutch Oven at Last

My brother-in-law, a garage-sale genius, happened upon boxes containing 5 brand-new 5-1/2 quart enameled cast-iron Dutch ovens manufactured in France by Le Creuset--among the world's most desirable cooking vessels, retailing today for more than $250 each. The owner asked $20 for each, my brother-in-law shelled out, and then asked on Facebook if anybody wanted one. I did! I did! I said next time I was up in Wisconsin I'd pick it up and pay.

My sister of took one of the five, blue to match her kitchen, and selected this sunny color for mine. When I saw it I was so delighted I wanted to roll on the floor, and packed it like a baby in blankets and towels for the ride back to Missouri. For three months I've done nothing but admire it,  and get up the nerve to use this item, coveted for years, almost purchased after our wedding except we chose instead a more practical stainless-steel kettle and never regretted it. But it was not an enameled cast-iron Dutch oven, the kind that outlives its happy owner, who becomes a cookin' fool for roasts, slow-baked beans, oven-cooked stews and all.

To prepare, I took a delightful class in baking artisan bread in a Dutch oven. A large mirror hung over the classroom's workspace so all in the room could see what the instructor did, and we got samples. Today--now that it's baking season--there's bread. Yes, the pot is heavy. But it's not as if I have to carry it in a backpack. I love anything that is both practical and beautiful. If it's food-related, all to the better.

Off My Feed

I felt unwell, too tired to eat, so on the first day of the annual ethnic food fest I lay on my living-room floor looking up symptoms on my phone, diagnosing "adrenal insufficiency," and was too tired to drive to the food fest and not hungry. The second day was the festival's final day and either I went and got the food I grew up with and would normally walk ten miles for, or would have to wait until next year.

So I went, waited in line, listened to accordion music, and watched the hall full of people dine and revel. I got a plate but had no appetite, so had it packed to go and here you see it, brought home, along with an extra box of cookies and a pair of four-cheese pastries purchased to tempt myself.  Normally I'd eat everything here plus seconds. I had a few bites and put the rest away.

I've posted about being Polish, but I'm half Serbian and grew up on this food. These old-fashioned dishes can be made only from scratch and are hard to make well. Greek food comes close but is far from exact. From top right: two inch-thick golden squares of gibanitsa, a four-cheese pastry made with filo, specialty of my godmother, Hristina Spasojevic; she used to make extra pans full because I said I liked it. The swirled pastry is homemade poppy seed roll with a rich, milky dough, not a bready one. Beneath it, a collection of homemade cookies made of ground walnuts, cream cheese dough, chocolate, butter, powdered sugar, with a piece of honeyed baklava. To the left, three cabbage rolls, called sarma, stuffed with ground beef and rice; four grilled Serbian sausages, made and flavored sort of like gyros, but better, called cevapcici; and Serbian-styled potato salad (with a mild, not vinegary, vinaigrette, potatoes sliced thinly, and green onion) and coleslaw (like Italian, has garlic and no mayo and is never wet). I did not take the Serbian bread (pogacha; cognate of focaccia) or the sliced white onions that go with the sausages.

One major difference between Greek and Serbian food: Serbs didn't grow olives or use the oil; they used butter. I didn't taste olive oil until I was 23.

Now it's 9:30 and I'm going to bed. If I don't feel like eating these things tomorrow I will call the undertaker.

A Night in the Kitchen

You know how you clip recipes and buy ingredients and time flies and those new recipes don't happen despite your best intentions--I always do that, especially when experimenting with the meatless, wheatless, or otherwise far-out, trying to advance my repertoire and learn. Last night I quit everything else and caught up.

Starting with the martini glass and going clockwise: That's Coffee Jello from food.com, topped with tofu whipped cream from the cookbook How It All Vegan. It's as good as it looks and takes 15 minutes. Delicious for breakfast. Next is a plate with three Strawberry-Coconut cookies, wheat-free, gluten-free and Paleo. Replacing white flour is coconut flour and ground flaxseed; coconut oil replaces butter; add unsweetened shredded coconut and chopped strawberries. A single one of these dense rich cookies satisfies. The round pita-like thing is a "Wheatbelly" (faddish no-grains diet) flaxseed wrap. Make the batter with ground flaxseeds, oil, an egg, and a spoonful of water, pour batter into a greased glass pie plate, microwave for 2 minutes, and I call this a new way to eat my morning egg: about 250 calories.You can make several at once and fridge them. In the yellow bowl is part of the result of 45 minutes of quartering a stack of 30 corn tortillas (cost: $2 and some) and baking them as chips. I planned to make my own salsa but then found a can of readymade. To its right you see a spatula's worth of Chicken Enchiladas, my meaty "Chicken of the Woods" wild mushrooms replacing the chicken. Served to a gaunt, sallow, and very picky vegetarian who loved it but ate it at room temp rather than letting me nuke it. Original recipe from Farm Journal's Great Home Cooking in America (1976; buy the hardback), the first cookbook I ever owned. Thanks, Mom. In the fall I wow guests with its Concord Grape Pie (page 83). In the green cup, egg-drop soup with fresh ginger, shown before I stirred the egg in.

All are wheat-free. Except for the jello, all are white-sugar-free and vegetarian. I'm an omnivore but have friends with every sort of dietary need.