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Mother's Day Lunch - Yahoo Recipe Search
Food52Most people know of Proust’s madeleines, even if they’ve never read the first 100 pages of In Search of Lost Time. Those little cakes, dipped in tea, brought Marcel back to the days of his youth at his Aunt Léonie’s home. In Proust’s day, there was likely only one kind of madeleine to be found in the boulangeries of Paris and the provinces: the blond variety, with a familiar lemon or orange scent and a tender crumb. These days, one can find just about every kind of madeleine imaginable: chocolate, almond, pecan, hazelnut, matcha. There are unadorned madeleines and glazed madeleines (quelle horreur!). After learning firsthand how to make them from the excellent cookbook author and teacher Lydie Marshall, I can turn out a batch of classic madeleines at the drop of a chapeau. But for me, the madeleines that stand head and shoulders above the rest will always be the very unorthodox date madeleines that could only be found, until sometime in 1985, at the venerable tearoom on Manhattan’s East 37th Street, between Fifth and Madison, named Mary Elizabeth’s. Mary Elizabeth’s was a popular lunch haunt for people who worked in the nearby Empire State Building and for ladies who shopped at Lord & Taylor and its two now-defunct competitors, B. Altman and Best & Co. You can read online about the history of the establishment and find comments from loyal customers who still hunger for just one more taste of Mary Elizabeth’s coconut cake, crullers, and oatmeal cookies. When my mother came home after a day in the city with a box of Mary Elizabeth’s madeleines, we all rejoiced! What was so special about those madeleines? They weren’t golden, but a deep, almost gingerbready brown; they weren’t soft and light, but dense and chewy; they weren’t laced with citrus, but rather assertively flavored with dates and molasses. Was there a touch of ground cardamom or cloves in the batter, too? Possibly. All I know is they were exotic, and original, and wholly irresistible. I wish I knew the story behind those madeleines. Were they the brainchild of a creative baker determined to think outside the box, or were they just the result of some happy accident? (You know the story of the first tarte Tatin, right?) Did someone make a mistake one day when mixing the batter for date-nut bread and, rather than throwing it out, try to salvage it by baking it in madeleine pans with fingers crossed? Whenever and however these madeleines came about, they had a devoted following among Mary Elizabeth’s customers. I like a challenge, especially when it involves baking. I recently made it my mission to try to resurrect this gone-but-not-forgotten teatime treat. I can’t guarantee it’s identical to the original, but I can promise it will surprise and delight you.Food52Inji Kari is easily described as a sweet and sour ginger sauce. This particular recipe was my father in law’s favorite, and my mother in low made sure it was on the table for lunch every day for more than ten years. I like to remember this recipe by his name; we used to call him ‘Acha’. Ingredients:AllrecipesA man named George gave my mother this recipe when he was eating lunch one day while putting in a new furnace over 50 years ago!Food52Growing up, this was my favorite weeknight dinner on my mother's normal weeknight rotation The best part was that she would make an enormous pot of it so I knew I could enjoy it for days later. Similar to chili, it tastes better as the days go by and the flavors develop. It has a rich, tangy taste thanks to the buttermilk, punctuated by the sharpness from the garlic and ginger. The mustard seeds also add a distinctive flavor. The dumplings, which are essentially just little fritters or pakoras made out of spinach, become super soft -- they're fabulous just straight from the pan and there are always a few that never make it into the stew -- they end up in my tummy first! Essentially a one-pot meal, it is perfect served over simple basmati rice. Whenever I make it for my family now, I always look forward to having it for lunch the next day!Food52This is a fun recipe for me. Very nostalgic. My mother used to make a version of this little sandwich for me for lunch at day-camp when I was small and I've loved them ever since! Along with a few of my own modifications, this sandwich is still very close to the original, simply delicious summertime treat! Try it with a good pickle or vegetable chips and a tall glass of green iced-tea lemonade!Food52Growing up we didn’t each much junk food and fast food was only an option (mom made the decision, not us kids) that happened a few times a year. Pizza though, was a once weekly treat and ususally ordered from one of the local pizza places. Being from an area plentiful with Italians, we had many places to choose from. Fritz’s in Bay Shore (no longer in existence) was very memorable to me mostly because of the pizza that my parents ordered. Fritz’s made an “everything” pie which was loaded with veggies. I don’t recall if it had any meat on it. Back in those days I eschewed veggies on my pizza and was especially disgruntled (along with my brother) that a plain pizza was not ordered for us also. We spent much of the dining time (in the restaurant or at home) picking the veggies off the pizza and then consuming the naked pie. In hindsight I wish I would have left those delicious vegetables on the pie and eaten all of it. Making our own pizza became a regular and popular activity for my siblings and I starting in the 80?s. Originally, my mother would make her own whole wheat pizza dough (she may have gotten crust recipe from her sister) with leftover marinara or meat sauce (always sweetened a bit with some grated carrot) and topped with conventional mozzarella cheese. The 90?s brought about Boboli and “tube” crusts along with Italian bread and sometimes English muffins as a base. I began asking pizza parlors to buy their raw dough to make my own pizza in the early 90?s and got some perplexing looks and comments. Conventional mozzarella morphed into fresh mozzarella and our pizza started sporting grilled vegetables and pestos. I have come full circle and am now back to making my own crust just as my mother did. This pizza was inspired by some fresh asparagus I snapped up at my local farmer’s market (Islip Town Hall) this weekend and also by the ingredients in my pantry. I usually make my own crust as I prefer a whole wheat crust. It was delicious with a great combination of tang and sweetness. I would love to do this on the grill too. I also like that it tastes just as delicious the next day (I usually eat it cold) for lunch. Switch the veggies and cheese up as you wish! Mmmmmm. Whole Wheat Pizza Crust *This recipe makes 2 crusts and each crust will serve approximately 6 people prep time: 25 minutes cooking time: serving size: 6 slices, approximately *This is one of my favorite crust recipes which I altered slightly by substituting honey for sugar and using all whole wheat pastry flour and not any all purpose flour. Find the recipe at:http://allrecipes.com. Alternatively, make or buy your favorite dough!Food52The over-crowded bookcase above my mother’s kitchen desk did not discriminate between healthy cooking and indulgence. Adele Davis’ no-nonsense Let’s Eat Right To Keep Fit cozied up alongside James Beard’s Fireside Cook Book and Julia Child’s butter-stained Mastering the Art of French Cooking. Published in 1970, Davis’ timeless reference guide to nutrition served more as a suggestion and less as an ultimatum. My mother’s casual promotion of health food to a family devoted to lofty cakes and lattice-topped pies, aligned with my father’s dictum to diet and exercise. “Everything in moderation,” he would remind us after his morning jog, slicing off a small triangle of apple pie for breakfast and pouring himself a second cup of coffee from the Chemex. One might say my mother was a thin-shelled health food nut, while my father was a tough nut to crack. My mother’s interest in diet and nutrition stemmed from both her upbringing and her education. The daughter of a dentist, she enjoyed a lengthy career as a dental hygienist, admonishing us to brush our teeth and floss regularly. As children, a visit to my grandfather’s office overlooking Bryant Park, was a healthy contradiction. Armed with new toothbrushes and pocket-sized tubes of toothpaste, we paused by a behemoth glass jar on my grandfather’s desk to pluck a handful of cello wrapped candies. Planting a good-bye kiss on his cheek, we headed to Katz’s for hot dogs washed down with Dr. Brown’s cream soda. Even at the height of the health food craze, my mother’s approach was far from a religious pursuit, more akin to a hobby. Most mornings, she orchestrated four brown bag lunches. Even though her valiant attempts to coax us towards whole grains fell flat, I had to applaud her tenacity. She was subtle, sandwiching peanut butter or cream cheese or egg salad between two slices of whole wheat bread, cut on the diagonal. We pleaded for pedestrian white bread instead. She reluctantly obliged with multi-grain bread which was lighter on the wheat, adding an apple or a small box of Sun-Maid raisins for good measure. Lunch wasn’t the only meal exposed to a healthy upgrade. The Tupperware turntable in our kitchen cabinet designated to vitamins, flax seed, oat bran, and banana chips also housed unsweetened breakfast options. Spinning the turntable unleashed a waft of health-food-store-Brewer’s yeast that we considered toxic. Avoiding that turntable like the plague, Grape Nuts and Shredded Wheat were as far as we dared stray from sugar-kissed cereals. When carob chips and honey were touted as healthful baking substitutes, my mother combed through a stack of glossy food magazines until she found a recipe for carob chip cookies. The results were underwhelming at best, reinforcing Toll House morsels as a pantry staple. The lackluster cookies enjoyed a field trip to science class and a little extra credit for the baker; my mother was thrilled. The 1970s and '80s introduced consumers to kitchen gadgets that encouraged nutrition. New appliances intrigued but left my brothers, sister, and I nonplussed. The peanut butter spinning out of the Salton peanut butter machine was tasty but not sweet enough. The thermostat controlled yogurt maker produced five tangy portions yet severely lacked fruit on the bottom. We balked; my mother persevered. Although the counter-top bread machine turned out crusty loaves of multi-grain, slices dunked in skim milk were a far cry from challah French toast doused in Vermont maple syrup. Adele Davis encouraged fresh juices, prompting the purchase of a juice extractor. It wasn’t unusual to wander into the kitchen and witness a scene reminiscent of Muppet Labs. Strewn across the Formica countertop was a riot of carrots, apples, crimson beets, and knobs of fresh ginger. Standing at the helm was my mother, guiding the fruit and vegetables as they tumbled headfirst down the chute of the extractor. When offered a juice glass of the health tonic, I politely declined. My mother declared it, ‘out of this world’ while my father opted instead for a dry martini with an extra olive. I did share, however, my mother’s passion for lemons, both the thick-skinned grocery store variety and the elusive thin-skinned Meyer lemon. Squeezed over ice cubes in tall glasses or bobbing in a cup of hot water, we drank these beverages in lieu of coffee after dinner. In her classic yin and yang philosophy of sharing, my mother reminded me that lemons eroded tooth enamel but were packed with antioxidants. Circling the dining room table nightly provided an opportunity to over-share the day’s events, fill (and refill) our dinner plates, eating just enough vegetables to ensure smooth sailing to dessert. My mother’s attempt to replace white macaroni with whole wheat was almost as dire as introducing brown rice instead of white. The dinner table mutinies were blissfully short lived. “Your father prefers regular spaghetti,” my mother assured me as she squeezed fresh lemon juice over a bowl of whole wheat pasta salad. For a very brief period, I encouraged my mother to enroll in an aerobics class and promised to join her. With Billy Joel’s greatest hits pouring out of a boom box, our blindingly white sneakers zigged instead of zagged across the floor, turning to the left when the rest of the class was turning right. Desperately trying to avoid facing the wall of mirrors, we laughed more than we aerobicized. Class concluded with a series of cool down stretches and shoulder rolls. As Barry Manilow crooned “I can’t smile without you,” we decided he could, making a beeline for the car. We stopped for frozen yogurt on the way home.Taste of HomeThere is just something right about serving a roasted chicken! And my curry-rubbed chicken is packed with spicy flavors suitable for a bridal shower lunch, graduation dinner or Mother's Day brunch. —Merry Graham, Newhall, CaliforniaFood and WineIf you have ever had the pleasure of indulging in a Nanaimo bar, you know just how intoxicating it can be: that chocolate-coconut cookie base made with chopped nuts, layered with creamy vanilla custard, and topped with dark chocolate ganache. It’s a distinctly Canadian creation—and the thing I’ve craved the most since I settled in New York 20 years ago.The bar comes from the seaside town of Nanaimo on British Columbia’s Vancouver Island. The first official account of the recipe can be traced back to a cookbook published in 1952, but to this day the exact details of how and why it came to be remain shrouded in mystery. Regardless of its history, the Nanaimo bar is one of Canada’s most popular treats, included in every bake sale, sold at coffee shops and bakeries, and made in abundance for birthday parties and school lunches. I can still remember sneaking them off the dessert table at family celebrations and begging my mother to buy them every chance I had.For whatever reason, the bars never gained a following south of the border, and I have yet to come across anything like them here. I have always found this to be not just an unfortunate oversight, but a distinct and glaring hole in the American dessert lexicon—one I’m filling here with one of my own design, that layers a chocolate and coconut crust with buttercream frosting, hazelnuts, and chocolate ganache with swirls of tahini.You can thank me later. First, do yourself a favor and make these bars. Then share them. I think you’ll find you crave them as much as I do.
