(a.k.a.: My mom is an amazing cook … NOW!)

Once, long ago, before my mom actually became a fabulous cook, she created a truly awful meal. My apologies to her. It might have been my fault!

She was at wits’ end. My brother and I were the choosiest, most finicky eaters on the planet and our head chef was sick of KD and hot dogs. I don’t blame her.

Before proceeding further, I admit here that our demanding (and refusing) tastes were probably what led to the frustration provoking the dinner menu in question. Our terrible eating habits were also why, until then, not many adventurous culinary attempts were made in our house. Mom knew no one would eat them.

One day I returned home after an energetic post-school romp in the ravine. Hmmmmm. What was that strange aroma wafting from the cheerful kitchen?

Sorry Mom, the nose knows. This nose in particular.

“Do I smell … LIVER????!!!” I asked, completely appalled, and ready for a fight.

“Of course not!” replied the quick-thinking budding chef.

You know the old adage: when in doubt, lie. Sometimes it works. (Not on me, mind you, but I always do admire a sincere attempt!)

“I smell liver!” I screamed. There was an echo in there. And I was ready to run away from home. (Or at least go elsewhere for dinner.) (Someone, somewhere was making KD.)

“Don’t be silly!” Mom attempted to calm me down.

Yep, that had always worked in the past. Not.

The dish in question was a frighteningly unsubtle attempt to conceal a bit of protein. The offending substance was actually ground, sautéed chicken livers, in spaghetti sauce (which I already disliked, as it contained bits of unknown “ingredients”) (duh!!).

Okay, chicken liver spaghetti. Sure, that sounds like something picky kids would l-o-v-e. Parents, seriously: where do you get these ideas?

The rest of the evening passed uneventfully. That is: no one ate much. Not even the optimistic cook. We were mad, the house stank (sorry, Mom), dinner was truly awful. Mind you, no one left the province.

Liver was never attempted again. Cooking soon became much more exciting and adventurous as the whole family cultivated a sincere and lasting interest in varied ingredients, and meals other than macaroni. Food became an excuse for exploration and fun and shared research … of the eating variety. There were plenty of great meals from then on. And there still are!

This tale about attempting to inflict some variety still comes up often at family dinners, because that horrible dinner led to lots of wonderful cooking. And because I can be a bit of a pest with a bad story. And also because somehow there is nothing quite so much fun as a loving family joke.

The little experiment didn’t work Mom, but you more than made up for it!

Ok so this is not elaborate, or super healthy or healthy at all but I still get hungry when I think of my Mom calling me in from playing in the yard for ‘Bacon Snacks.’

1. a dozen Melba Toasts or Toasted Bread cut the size of sandwich halves

2. Place sliced cheddar on top

We used to get our cheddar from Maple Dale near Plainfield Ontario. Try it!

3. Place cooked bacon on top and brown in the oven. Now call your toddler over from whatever he’s playing with and he’ll love you for ever.

When I was growing up, my mom had a few specialties but one of my favourite treats was her lemon loaf. She would make it when we had guests or sometimes just because.

It’s been a while since I’ve had it; years actually. I’ve had other peoples’ but, like drinking milk at someone else’s house, it’s not quite the same.

I think it was the zesty sweet drizzle icing that did it. She poked holes into the loaf, so it would infuse the loaf. Always a treat.

6 tablespoons shortening
1 cup white sugar
2 beaten eggs
grind of one lemon peel
1 1/2 cups all purpose flour
1 half teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 half cup milk

Beat sugar into softened shortening, a little at a time.
Beat eggs well.
Add milk and ground lemon peel.
Mix dry ingredients together and add gradually to wet ingredients.
Pour into a greased loaf pan, 9″ x 5″ x 2″.
Bake in preheated oven @ 350 degrees.
While the loaf bakes, mix juice of one lemon with a little less than 1/3 cup of sugar.
Let baked loaf cool for 5 minutes, then puncture it with a knitting needle or other pointed
tool.
Pour sweet lemon juice over loaf.
Let cool completely before cutting.

Submitted by Rick Stender

By Patty Beiger

Tuesdays were my Elo’s favourite day, because on that day, and that day only, my Ela made “Pollo al sillao*” for lunch. So of course when I asked my Ela for recipes I could bring to Canada with me, my Elo blurted out “Pollo al sillao!”. Since then I’ve made it for many people, old and young, some finicky and some not so much, and it is everyone’s favourite, mine included, because it is not just delicious, but also simple.

*Sillao is what Peruvians call soy sauce.

For 6 people

INGREDIENTS:
12 chicken drumsticks
Juice from 2 lemons
1 tablespoon of dry oregano
2 cloves of garlic, minced
2 cups of low sodium soy sauce
Pepper to taste

PREPARATION:
Preheat oven to 400ºF.
Combine lemon juice, oregano, garlic, pepper and soy sauce. Do not add salt!
Place the chicken drumsticks skin up in an oven dish deep enough to hold the sauce
Bathe them with the sauce.
Place in oven and bake for 45 minutes.
Traditionally served with white rice, but anything goes; even fettuccine!

My late grandmother, Debbie Chodos, who immigrated to Montreal from Lithuania as a child, made delicious soups, and her cabbage borscht was a favourite. Because she never wrote down her recipes, it took me a bit of time to replicate the specific flavors of her version. She used “sour salt” (citric acid crystals) instead of lemon juice, and chuck instead of short ribs. And she often eliminated the stewing meat altogether, placing raw meatballs into the simmering borscht instead, where they’d soak up the soup’s flavours as they cooked. This can be a meal in itself, served with fresh, crusty kimmel bread (as seeded rye is called in Jewish bakeries in Montreal) or challah.

Makes 8 servings

2 pounds beef short ribs (flanken), each strip cut in half
1 large onion, roughly chopped
2 large carrots, roughly chopped
2 stalks celery, roughly chopped
1 clove garlic
1 bay leaf
8 cups water, plus more if needed
1 small head green cabbage, halved, cored and cut into 1/2-inch chunks
2 medium onions, finely chopped
1 large can (28 ounces) whole tomatoes
3 cups tomato juice
2 tablespoons granulated sugar or light brown sugar, plus more if needed
1 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more if needed
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper, plus more if needed
2 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice, plus more if needed (or sour salt, adding 1/2 tsp at a time, to taste)

1. In a large pot or Dutch oven, combine the beef, the roughly chopped onion, carrots, celery, garlic, bay leaf and water, making sure the beef is well submerged in the water (add more water if needed). Bring to a boil. Reduce the heat and simmer, partially covered, for 90 minutes, occasionally removing scum from the surface.

2. Using a slotted spoon, remove the beef from the pot and place it in a bowl. Strain the broth through a fine mesh strainer into a container; discard the vegetables, bay leaf, and any loose bones. Separate the beef meat from the bones and membrane; discard the bones and membrane. Cut or shred the meat into bite-sized pieces; set aside. (Note: At this stage, you may wish to refrigerate the beef broth overnight and remove the congealed fat before proceeding with the recipe. Be sure to refrigerate the meat in a separate container.)

3. In the same large pot or Dutch oven, combine 5 cups of the strained beef broth, the cooked beef, cabbage, diced onions, tomatoes and their liquid, tomato juice, sugar, salt and pepper. Stir well, lightly breaking up the tomatoes, and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat, partially cover the pot, and simmer, stirring occasionally, until the cabbage is tender, 70 to 90 minutes. Stir in the lemon juice. Taste the borscht and adjust seasonings as needed. Serve hot.

This recipe was first published in the Winter 2008/09 issue of Edible Toronto magazine.