Grandma’s Polenta Stew Recipe

By Janna Cuneo

My great grandma was known as Maringa, and that was a Genovese dialect nickname for I don’t know what. She was a wide and solid woman who only wore black dresses and black stockings, and she was in her 90’s for at least 30 years, by all family descriptions. When my dad was seven, she would take him to the woods in Southern CT and they would go mushroom hunting all day, because it made her feel more at home, and less like an immigrant.

Maringa was also a badass. She had this tomato garden that was her pride and joy, and she took any and all attacks by wild life very personally– so much so that she took to sitting in a rocking chair in the middle of the vegetable garden. With a 2 x 4 in hand.

My mom tells me that she was frequently served a delcious polenta stew on Sundays, with rich tomato sauce and slow cooked meats inside. I guess my dad forgot to tell that any animal that crossed Maringa’s path was sacrified (using the aforementioned 2×4) and deliciously prepared  for the family. My mom has refused to make polenta since 1973, but I think it’s damn tasty. Please note: This recipe does not require you to bludgeon your own protein.

*Substitutions are welcome. White cannelini beans are a good meat replacement. Lacinato kale is also excellent with this.

POLENTA:

5 cups of cold water
2 tbsp. extra virgin olive oil
2 fresh bay leaves
1 1/2 tsp. kosher salt
Shredded fontina or Good Parmigiana
1 cup yellow polenta

Pour water and olive oil into your heaviest pot, add salt and bay leaves, and boil. Add polenta by the handful by sprinkling into the boiling water, and whisk steadily. Whisk while at a medium boil, and lower heat and stop stirring after you see big bubbles coming up out of polenta. Put the cover on the pot part way, and simmer. Stir frequently for 25 minutes, until polenta is shiny and uniform. Should be soft, not firm! Add 1 cup shreaded fontina on top, and serve with a big slop of sauce in the middle.

SAUCE:

8 slabs of bacon
2 crushed garlic cloves
1/3 cup olive oil
8 fresh sage leaves
2 cups chopped onion
1/4 oz dried porcini mushrooms
1 tbsp dried rosemary
1 tbsp kosher salt
2 cups dried red wine
2 cups broth (pick whichever kind you like)
6 cups canned plum tomatoes
1/2 toasted pine nuts

Chop spices with pine nuts and 2 tbsp olive oil in a food processor, and set aside. Add olive oil and onions and garlic to pot, cook til translucent. Now add porcini and sage, pinch of salt, and carmelize onions. Now add bacon, chopped into bites, cook until crispy and tender. Remove bacon and set aside. Add the wine and reduce it by 1/3. Add tomatos. Add the pureed nuts and spices, cook over medium heat, slowly adding stock. Stir regularly on low heat, 2 hrs minimum.

Grandma’s Pumpkin Pie Cake Recipe

By Elana Riffle

Ah, Masontown, Pennsylvania. This picture, of a loving couple with their two kids in front of their picket fence, appears to be completely normal.  And yet, this picture of my grandmother, Mary Blanche, is not what it seems. The man is not my grandfather; he is, in fact, my great-uncle.  When Jim spent time in the military as an Air Force pilot, he would often get asked about his family back home.  Since he didn’t get married until the ripe old age of 74 (to a feisty lady of 65), he asked my grandmother to pose for this faux-family photograph to stave off too many inquiries into his home life. What a cavalier fellow.

My only memory of him was that all the time in the service made it difficult for him to hear, and so I had to scream into the phone as a kid; not that kids can really modulate their tone all that well at that age. I’m thinking of elementary school glee clubs, like this one.

But this story is about my grandmother. She was a wonderful lady; thoughtful, kind, generous, with a tittering laugh and crinkly eyes, and a mole in the middle of her back. She always smelled like Tone Soap and send me funny post cards of latrines from Maine, and bring back Zydeco music from Louisiana, so we could dance around the living room to it. She would take me on wild wanders, metal lunch pail in hand, and let me stop and smell each and every flower. You could always tell when I returned from a walk with her, because my nose would be powdered yellow. We would stay up late, playing 500 Gin Rummy, like they did during the war, and she would tell me stories about going to school in a one-room schoolhouse, with her twin brother, Park, and four sisters.

Every night, as she went to sleep on the green pull-out sofa in the living room, when she stayed with us, in the dark, she would verbalize her gratitude, for all the people who made her life what it was. Growing up during the Depression stays with you, I guess. She saved everything, reused it, and she loved trying cuisines from all over the world. It seems sappy to write so plainly about her, but through her love, she made my life so much better.

Anyways, this is a family recipe. Everyone knows exactly what it is, exactly what it tastes like, and gets cravings for it, like they do for MBR herself. It’s horrifically sweet, usually served best chilled (like out of the fridge in the middle of the night), with milk.  I would use butter instead of margarine, lose the pecans, and put cardamom in it…but I do that with every recipe. Chalk it up to a generational difference.

I love her handwriting, but, as having difficult handwriting is a Riffle family trait, I’ve transcribed it below.

PUMPKIN PIE CAKE

(Can do 1-2 days ahead, leave in pan.)
CAKE:
1 Box yellow cake mix
½ stick margarine
1 egg
1 large can pumpkin (29 oz)
Filling:
3 eggs
3 tsp. cinnamon
½ cup brown sugar
¾ l. evaporated milk

TOPPING:

1 cup of cake mix (see step 1)
1/2 cup white sugar
¼ cup melted margarine
Chopped pecans (optional)

Remove 1 cup cake mix and put in a small bowl set aside for topping.
Melt margarine and add to cake mix.  Add eggs.  Stir together.
*Press* this in bottom of 9x13x2 inch baking pan.  Set aside.
In *another* bowl, mix pumpkin, eggs, cinnamon, brown sugar, and milk.
Pour over the mixture in the pan.  I like to push the 1st later up
the sides a *little* to form a crust.
Combine the extra cup of cake mix, the white sugar, and the melted
margarine. Sprinkle on top of filling.  Add the nuts on top.
Bake for 1 hour at 350 degrees.
Serves 20-24, depending on number and size of squares.

Grandma’s Prune Muffin Recipe

By Sahar Baharloo

I’ve never really had a grandmother to bake me stuff. I never met my mom’s mom and my dad’s mom was a Persian aristocrat who had a lot of servants to do everything for her. I think she even had one that just carried the bag of rice for when they went on vacation. She really doesn’t know how to cook. Once I made her a grilled cheese sandwich and she couldn’t figure out the ingredients in it.

Because I don’t have any normal grandmothers, I’ve had to compensate by becoming prematurely grandmotherly. One of the ways this has manifested itself has been these prune muffins that I make on occasion. One of the first times I made it, I had to run to Plaid Pantry (a shitty chain of corner stores in the Pacific Northwest) to get some milk. The people in line in front of me were a couple of young women about my age. They were buying a strawberry blunt, presumably to smoke marijuana in or something. I sighed and felt like an old lady. While they were enjoying illicit drugs and acting like normal early-twenty-somethings, I was a going to go back to my house and whip up some muffins with prunes in them.

This recipe is mostly taken from Mark Bittman’s How to Cook Everything. I just spiced and pruned it up.

PRUNE MUFFINS:

Makes about a dozen.

3 tablespoons melted butter, plus something to grease the muffin tin.
2 cups flour (this recipe is really good with spelt or whole wheat flour.
1/4 cup sugar (or honey)
1/2 tsp salt
1 tsp cinnamon
1/2 tsp on allspice
1/2 tsp ground ginger
1 pinch cloves or nutmeg
3 tsp baking powder
1 egg
1 cup milk, plus more. What I’ve found is that if want the muffins to be more scone-y use less milk. If you want them to be more fluffy use more milk.
1/2 cup chopped up prunes
1/2 cup walnuts
some extra cinnamon and sugar for making a crunchy top

Baking this mofo:
Preheat your oven to 400 degrees.  Mix all the dry ingredients together. In a separate bowl beat the egg with the butter and milk.  Make a whole in the dry ingredients bowl and pour the liquid in in it. Then fold it all together. Try not to over stir. Add more milk if needed. Gently stir in the nuts and prunes.

Spoon the batter into the muffin tin. Sprinkle cinnamon and sugar mixture on top if you want crunchies. Put the tin in the oven and then bake them for about 20-30 minutes. Let cool before taking them out of the tin or they sort of fall apart.

Grandma’s Refrigerator Rolls Recipe (And Bonus! Sweet and Sour Chicken)

Kurt B. Reighley

My adolescence in suburban Northern Virginia was storied, to say the least, but among the things I’d list in the “pro” category was our local paper. That’s right: Our tiny town actually supported a weekly independent newspaper. This is undoubtedly where I developed my unrealistic expectation that I should be featured in a prominent media outlet at least once every 3-4 months. Looking online, I see that the Herndon Observer only ceased publication in mid-2010. That’s better than a lot of periodicals that have wasted valuable column inches documenting my misadventures in the arts.

My favorite section of the Observer was “Neighbor To Neighbor,” a column penned by Anne Crocker, one of the earthier gals from St. Timothy’s Episcopal Church. Every week she spotlighted a local homemaker and her recipes. My Mom was the designated Neighbor on April 1, 1977, about two years after we’d moved to Herndon from Pasadena, California. Among the four recipes she shared was one that I remember well from holiday gatherings: Refrigerator Rolls. What I didn’t realize back then was that this recipe had been handed down from her Mom, my maternal grandmother. I’m well aware of the influence of my Dad’s mom on our family cookbook, for better (tandoori chicken) and worse (tomato pudding), but this is the only instance that springs to mind of the culinary legacy of the Tucker side of the clan on our dining table.

I’m also including Mom’s recipe for Sweet and Sour Chicken, as she was—and still is—especially proud of it. It subsequently appeared in several church and charitable cookbooks. I suspect she’s probably modified it with the passing of years, to keep up with “eating light” trends, but this is the version I remember from childhood. For all the trouble I gave my Mom when I was an adolescent, I’ll always be grateful to her for instilling me with an appreciation for the domestic arts. And don’t be deceived by the excerpts below. In addition to keeping house and raising my brother and me, Mom also worked two days a week as a dental hygienist, attended math and science classes at the community college, and volunteered at the church and for our scouting troops, too. (And yet she insists I got my workaholic tendencies from my Dad. Yeah, right.)

*    *   *   *   *

Sewing is more than a hobby for Carolyn, who makes most of the clothing her family wears. Her well-designed and organized sewing-laundry room is a homemaker’s dream and reflects the efficiency with which Carolyn keeps the beautiful Reighley home. Her hobbies include crocheting and embroidery.

Carolyn likes to cook and often experiments with recipes to make them uniquely her own. The following roll recipe is from her mother’s collection. They can be made with half whole wheat flour. Carolyn uses the dough hook attachment to her mix to make these, eliminating the hand kneading. The sweet and sour chicken is a good company dish – it doesn’t dry out if kept in the over on “Warm” for up to an hour past the baking time.

REFRIGERATOR ROLLS

1 cup milk
1 cup water
¼ cup shortening
5 tablespoons sugar
½ teaspoon soda
1 tablespoon salt
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 package yeast
Soak yeast in ¼ cup water with 1 teaspoon sugar added
1 egg
6 cups flourScald milk, cool and add water, sugar, shortening, 3 cups of the flour, soda, and baking powder. Beat well. Add the yeast, beat again and let rise ½ hour in a warm place until bubbly. Add the egg, salt and remaining flour gradually. Knead well, place in bowl and let rise in a warm place until double in size. Mark out what rolls you want immediately and store the rest of the dough to use as desired. This may be used as a tea ring, cinnamon rolls, etc. Give the rolls three hours to rise at room temperature after being in the refrigerator. 

SWEET AND SOUR CHICKEN

1 cup milk
1 cup water
¼ cup shortening
5 tablespoons sugar
½ teaspoon soda
1 tablespoon salt
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 package yeast
Soak yeast in ¼ cup water with 1 teaspoon sugar added
1 egg
6 cups flour

Wash and dry chicken. Coat with flour. Heat oil in pan. Add chicken and brown on all sides. Remove as browned to shallow roasting pan, arranging pieces skin side up. Sprinkle with salt and pepper. Preheat oven to 350.

Make Sauce: Drain pineapple, pouring syrup into 2 cup measure. Add water to make 1¼ cups. In medium saucepan, combine sugar, cornstarch, pineapple syrup, vinegar, soy sauce, ginger and bullion cube; bring to a boil, stirring constantly. Boil 2 minutes. Add pineapple and green peppers, bake 30 minutes or longer. Makes 4 servings.

Grandma’s Apple Square Recipe

Post by Lauren Orso

About 40 years ago, my grandma was diagnosed with high cholesterol, which left her resigned to a life of egg whites and broiled fish. But, she was already a grandmother at that point, and so had to continue to bake everyday, whether or not she could eat it, so her grandmother’s license was not revoked.

Hands down her best recipe, the one everyone goes nuts for, the one  fistfights will break out over corner pieces for, and the one she claims *every time* she makes is the last time she’s made it, is apple squares. That I can go 10 seconds without devouring these is a miracle, but that she’s gone something like 40 years is something of a supernatural phenomena.

Here is the recipe, which she would kill me for giving out, but it deserves to be eaten:

Apple Squares

Filling:

4-6 tart cooking apples

1 cup water,

1 1/4 cup sugar,

1 tsp. cinnamon

1/4 tsp. salt,

2 tbsp. corn starch

1/4 cup water

Pare and core apples, then cut into eigths. Bring water, sugar, cinnamon and salt to boiling point. Add apples and cook slowly for 10 minutes. Blend cornstarch and 1/4 cup water and add to mixture. Cook 5 minutes longer, stirring gently.

Crust:

3/4 cup lard

2 cup pastry flour

1/2 tsp. baking powder

1/2 tsp. salt

1 tsp. lemon juice

2 egg yolks,

1/2 cup water

Cut shortening into sifted flour, baking powder and salt. As for pie crust, mix lemon juice, egg yolks, and water together. Sprinkle over flour mixture, blend lightly, divide into 2 parts.

How To:

Roll first piece of dough to line pan about 9×13. Fill with apple mixture. Roll remaining dough to fit top, seal edges and cut slits to vent. Bake in hot oven (450) for 20 minutes, then reduce heat to 350 and bake 30 minutes longer. Ice with thin confection sugar icing.

Cut into squares to serve.

Grandma’s Corn Pudding Recipe

I wish I could remember how my grandma convinced me to try corn pudding.

Growing up, I hated eating things that looked slimy.  Or lumpy. When I was 4, I wouldn’t eat anything except macaroni and cheese. I made it to college thinking I disliked beans, mushrooms, any soup that was creamed, any form of sushi, cooked leafy green vegetables.  I
still can’t stomach the pulpy texture of a raw, ripe tomato.

Corn pudding fails all the tests.  It is a milky yellow, a color that seems natural on the cob, but decidedly false in a baking dish. It is gelatinous, with strange gobs of corn kernels peeking through the goopy surface.  How on earth did this get into my mouth, I wonder.

Honestly, my grandma is not known for mincing words. She probably told me to stop whining and eat it.

And I am eternally grateful to my sharp-tongued grandma for bullying me, because corn pudding is mind-bogglingly delicious. The sides get brown and crunchy, and offset the light sweetness of the warm pudding. I’ve learned that corn pudding is most often a southeastern delicacy, and I have no idea where Grandma Milly, a Brooklyn Jew, dug up a recipe for it. I don’t know why she made it a staple of every Thanksgiving dinner. I don’t know how she convinced me to eat it.

I’m sure glad she did, though.

Corn Pudding
Makes 3 generous servings.
1 cup grated corn
½ tsp. Baking powder
2 tbsp. Flour
2 tbsp. Sugar
2 eggs
1 cup milk
2 tbsp. melted butter
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Mix baking powder with flour and sugar.
Beat eggs. Add dry ingredients gradually to eggs. Beat in milk. Add
melted butter and season with salt and pepper to taste. Bake for 45-55
minutes, or until firm, like a custard. Serve directly from baking
dish with a spoon.