Easy stuffed mushrooms

 

As some of you may remember, I am working, now and then, on a cookbook based on the theory that the food of the Fifties has an ongoing effect on the way we cook and eat today. It’s easy to scoff at the idea of food of the Fifties—all those jellied salads and prepared foods. Yet there were dishes that many of us treasure to this day—meatloaf, salmon croquettes, tuna casserole, chicken Divan, steak Diane, deviled eggs, green salads—the list is long but maybe someday you’ll read the book. I think it’s going to be titled Mom and Me in the Kitchen, because it’s turning out to be a tribute to my mom who was a great cook, not a chef but just a darn good cook.

Perhaps all this is on my mind this morning because I’m still getting back to reality after a wonderful Christmas with seventeen of my family. The girls have taken over the kitchen, and as I watched them cook, I realized that they were doing things the way my mom taught me and I, in turn, taught them. They stuffed a turkey with onion and celery and made dressing on the side (okay, it was cornbread whereas Mom’s and mine were always white bread—I guess we have to give in to Texas on some things). They made classic green bean casserole and apple pie. And best of all, they used Mom’s recipe for yeast-rising dinner rolls (the altitude in Santa Fe did them in a bit, but they were still good). One of the delights of Christmas Day was watching my oldest son and his daughter roll out the dough, watch it rise and shape the rolls.

One of Mom’s signature dishes was stuffed mushrooms. Far as I know, she invented the cheese mixture she used for stuffing them. So imagine my surprise this week when I was reading Ruth Reichl’s Substack column and found something she calls Poor Man’s Tarte Flambée. Reichl as you know is the chef/editor/author/restaurant critic who critiqued restaurants for the New York Times and led Gourmet Magazine until its demise. She is one of the premier figures on today’s American food scene. Her recipe calls for grated sharp white cheddar, diced raw bacon, onion and horseradish, salt and pepper. This mixture is spread on toast and broiled. I laughed aloud: it was so close to Mom’s stuffed mushrooms, which she was making long before Reichl picked up a measuring spoon.

Here’s what she did for mushrooms (sorry, but there are no precise measurements):

Mom’s stuffed mushrooms

Large mushrooms, de-stemmed and wiped clean—I figure about three per person

Grated sharp cheddar, probably about a cup

Green onion, sliced thin, both white and green parts; if it’s a big one, cut down the middle, before slicing

A couple of dashes of Worcestershire sauce

Dry mustard—careful, this is potent stuff and too much can ruin a dish. I’d guess use a half teaspoon.

Just enough mayonnaise to bind.

If you are stuffing mushrooms, fill each cap with the mixture and place on a rimmed baking sheet. The cheese will inevitably run over so it’s best to use parchment paper if you can. Bake in a slow oven, maybe 300 or 325—you want the mushrooms to soften before the cheese gets too brown. Serve warm.

This is also good spread on toast and broiled; for a side dish, top it with lightly cooked fresh asparagus.

Need a quick appetizer for an unexpected guest? Just whip up a batch of this and serve it with crackers.

And raise a toast to my mom—a cook who was ahead of her times. You might also toast Reichl because she’s pretty inspirational in the kitchen.