Behind the Recipe -- Jeri Quinzio

Coffee cans, pudding molds, and Boston brown bread

“Where can I get a metal coffee can these days?” a friend asked.

He wanted to make Boston brown bread but he was perplexed. The recipe called for the bread to be steamed in a coffee can. Since few of us buy coffee in cans anymore, he didn’t know how he could cook it.

I’m writing a book about puddings so I realized what the problem was. First, I explained that Boston brown bread is actually a kind of pudding – think English and plum rather than creamy and chocolate.

At one time, such puddings were steamed in metal pudding molds, which you can still buy. They are roughly the size and shape of coffee cans, though they usually have a more decorative look.

Before cooks had such molds, though, puddings were boiled in cloths or pudding bags. Cooks poured the pudding mixture onto a square of sturdy floured cloth, tied it up into a rough bag shape, submerged it in a pot of water or broth, and boiled it. Often they boiled up some vegetables and maybe some meat along with the pudding.

They also made puddings in deep pie pans or pottery basins. They buttered the container, poured the mixture in, then tied a cloth over the top, and put it in a pot with just enough water to steam the pudding.

When pudding molds began to be made, cooks switched to the molds since they were easier to use.

However, lots of home cooks didn’t have pudding molds, so they made do with whatever they had. They used tin pails and buckets. They steamed individual puddings in sturdy teacups. When coffee began to be sold in metal cans, they used those.

Now we’ve forgotten that the coffee cans were a substitute and think of them as the actual kitchen utensil.

So I told my friend that if he can’t find a metal coffee can, he can make his Boston brown bread in a cloth, or an earthenware basin, or several sturdy coffee mugs or teacups, or a metal mixing bowl. Or he can borrow my pudding molds.

Boston brown bread

Half cup each of cornmeal, rye flour, and whole wheat flour
One teaspoon baking soda
Half teaspoon salt
One-third cup molasses
One cup milk
Half cup raisins or currants
Butter

Grease a one-quart pudding mold or a one-pound coffee can or the basin or cups (see above).

Stir the dry ingredients together in a bowl.

Add the molasses and milk and stir until smooth. Mix in the raisins or currants.
Pour into buttered container. The mixture should fill the container with about one-third left for the bread to rise. Cover the top with foil and tie around the container with kitchen string.

Put the mold in a large pot and pour in boiling water halfway up the sides of the mold.

Either steam on the stovetop or in an oven preheated to 325 degrees for two hours. Test for doneness by inserting a thin knife or skewer into the bread. If it comes our sticky, continue cooking. When the skewer comes out clean, it’s done. 

Let the bread rest for an hour or so, then serve warm. It’s also good toasted the next day.

Mad about chafing dishes

 

Chafing dishes played a small role in the “Mad Men” Christmas party episode recently. But I’ve been thinking of them because I recently came across the recipe booklet that went with my mother’s. It’s titled “32 Favorite Chafing Dish Recipes.”

I have no idea as to what happened to the chafing dish itself. It was made of lacquered copper with a turned wooden handle and was quite elegant. A little container with Sterno sat under the dish to heat up whatever you cooked in it. It looked much like the one pictured above. Why the flimsy recipe booklet survived and the substantial chafing dish did not is a mystery to me.

As I read the booklet, it struck me that some of the dishes, like a simple cheese omelet or Swiss fondue, would be fun to cook and serve at the table. Others, well there’s a reason the ‘50s have a bad name in the world of good cooking.

“Chinese Chicken” was a combination of green peppers, canned cream-of-chicken soup, canned pineapple chunks, and cooked chicken. I don’t know what the cookbook writer had against China, but in another recipe – “Chow Mein, California Style” –  he or she called for grated luncheon meat. What was that? Spam? Baloney? The recipe also called for a half cup of Burgundy, that fine Chinese wine. 

Moving on to Spain, a recipe for “Eggs Esperada” called for “whipped” eggs, which I take to mean whisked. You were supposed to mix them into a sauce made with canned tomatoes, mushrooms, onions, and capers. It sounds like a cross between scrambled eggs and an omelet. Or perhaps the author was making a variation on a Spanish egg tortilla. “Esperada” means the expected or hoped for one in Spanish. Was the author hoping for or expecting a successful dish?

Then there’s “Lemon Barbecued Franks.” I like hot dogs too much to subject them to sliced lemons and canned tomato sauce and serve them on noodles, rice or mashed potatoes.

Some titles should never be used for food. The recipe for a creamed chicken dish, however tasty it may be, would never tempt me. It’s called “In Memorium.” For whom? The chicken?

Another recipe is titled “Majestic Hash.” Hash can be terrific. It can be hearty and delicious. But it cannot be majestic. Ever.

But I am a sucker for “Banana Flambée.” Bananas sautéed with butter and rum on a cool night is my idea of a perfect dessert. The recipe below is from the booklet and, of course, you don’t need a chafing dish. A sauté pan works just fine. I would, however, splurge and use four bananas for four people.

Banana Flambée

Serves 4

3 large peeled and sliced bananas
2 tablespoons butter
Brown sugar and cinnamon
Few drops of lemon juice
2 ounces rum or brandy

With top pan over direct heat melt butter. Place bananas in pan and sprinkle both sides generously with brown sugar and cinnamon. Sauté until lightly browned on both sides. Distribute a few drops of lemon juice over surface as bananas become soft, and pour in 2 ounces of rum or brandy. Flame the dessert immediately before serving.