Aunt Amy’s Giant Hamburger

 

A reunion of New York and Texas Alters
April 2017 in Tomball, Texas

We were in a classy Italian restaurant, contemplating the selection of appetizes with the thought of some shared plates. But when I suggested meatballs, I was astounded that my friend said, “You go ahead. I don’t eat ground meat. Thoughts of all she was missing ran through my brain. We eat a lot of ground meat at my house, partly because it’s easy on the budget and partly because of its versatility.

Aunt Amy’s Giant Hamburger is a recipe that has stood the test of time for me—like probably fifty years. It’s written in Amy’s careful hand on a 5 x 8 notecard which now makes me wonder if she was in school when she wrote it. The card is yellowed and stained with splashes, the ink fading and smudged. It’s a recipe that I’m glad to share with you because sharing puts it into my computer and a more permanent form.

Aunt Amy is the wife of my late ex-husband’s only brother. Despite divorce and death, my family has stayed close to the New York Alters, who live in the Bronx. I have not been to NYC since Mark and Amy’s wedding which has been a lot of years, but my children have all visited them. And the New York Alters (almost the entire three generations) have been to Texas for reunions at least twice. I’m not sure Amy knows I still cook her giant hamburger, but I will send her this column.

A word about technique: if you have a fish grilling basket, that makes it easier to make this hamburger. Double bonus if you can do it on the grill and get that good smoky flavor. But don’t despair if you don’t have the grill or the pan. Broil the burger on both sides, being careful with the flipping process. I’d suggest using a couple of plates rather than trying to flip it with spatulas as you do a smaller hamburger. I’ve also discovered that many dishes, like meatballs or salmon patties, hold together better if refrigerated before cooking. My mom’s trick was to throw in a handful of dry tapioca, but I can’t find that on the market these days. Also you’ll note the recipe calls for a three-oz. jar of chopped mushrooms, which dates it. I gave up buying canned or chopped mushrooms years ago—just chop a quarter lb. of fresh mushrooms. I’ve also written out the margarine in favor of butter.

Ingredients (makes six servings):

2 Tbsp. butter

1-1.5 cups seasoned herbed stuffing mix, crushed (about ¾ cup)

3-4 oz. chopped mushrooms

1/3 cup beef broth

¼ cup sliced green onions

¼ cup sliced almonds, toasted (I don’t like nuts in a lot of things and omit these—you do you.)

¼ cup snipped parsley (also optional)

1 tsp. lemon juice (do not omit—makes a big difference)

1 egg, beaten

2 lbs. ground beef

1 tsp. salt

Directions:

Melt butter in a medium saucepan. Remove from heat and add stuffing mix, mushrooms, beef broth, onions, parsley, almonds if using,  and lemon juice. Thoroughly stir in the beaten egg. (Add it last so that other ingredients will cool the butter and not let it cook the egg.) Set mixture aside.

Combine meat and salt and divide into two equal portions. On sheets of aluminum foil, pat each half into an 8” circle. Spoon stuffing over one circle of meat, leaving a half-inch margin at the edges. Top with second circle and peel off the top piece of foil. Seal the edges of the two patties by pressing together. Invert the meat pattie onto a well-greased grill basket or sheet pan and peel off remaining foil. Grill over medium coals 10-12 minutes on each side or until done. (See above for doing in the broiler.)

Cut into wedges, like a pie, and serve with ketchup. Aunt Amy suggested warmed ketchup, a nicety I’d never thought of. Potato salad would be a good side, because it seems like a picnic meal.

And on another note: Did you know you can still buy original Tupperware? Simply search Heritage Tupperware on Amazon. Now if Amazon would only do that for Corningware!

 

A Sunday night supper

 

 

My Canadian daughter and her husband leave Tuesday for their move to South Carolina. They plan to drive it in one long day, since they will have two young and rambunctious doodle dogs with them. God speed their journey. I have been to a large-ish farewell party for them but felt I wanted to do a more personal goodbye. I figured by Sunday night their kitchen would be packed, and they wouldn’t want to cook. So I’d invite them for happy hour with heavy appetizers. At first I thought I’d serve cheeseburger sliders and bean salad, but that somehow didn’t sound right. So I’ve settled on a big antipasto platter. And that got me to thinking about charcuteries, cheese platters and antipasto, the differences and the similarities.

I think of these as versions of the same dish. All three are easy to put together if you plan ahead and have the ingredients. A cheese platter may be the easiest, but with the price of good cheese these days, it may not be the least expensive. Charcuterie is the traditional meat platter of France. Antipasto is traditionally the first course of a formal Italian dinner, but in this country, it has gone from the seated table to the happy hour coffee table. You often find the same ingredients on charcuterie and antipasto platters. The key to all three platters is variety in taste, texture, and eye appeal.

 Cheese platters: You can choose from four basic types of cheese: aged (cheddar, brie, gouda, goat, various types of Swiss); soft (camembert, Havarti, feta); firm: Manchego, Parmigiano, Pecorino; blue: (blue, gorgonzola, stilton). For a small gathering of perhaps four people, three choices, one each from three of the groups, are probably enough. Count on a third of a pound per person. Offer a choice of crusty breads and crackers. I’d put each cheese on a separate dish or board, so they don’t “share” flavors, and be sure to put out a separate knife for each.

Refrigerate cheese until two or three hours before serving; bring to room temperature.

Possible accompaniments: honey, chutney, artichoke hearts.

[Note: a favorite treat a young friend recently introduced me to: put a bite of blue cheese on a cracker or slice of apple or pear and then drizzle just a drop or two of honey on it. Delicious! You can also spread a really thin layer of honey on a slice of feta and bake it briefly.]

Charcuterie:  Traditionally this is a platter of cold, cured, or preserved meats. Once again, you want to mix texture and taste. Use one or more salamis, perhaps a hard and a soft; a pate or terrine; sausage; thinly sliced ham, possibly rolled for easier eating; prosciutto or its beef cousin bresaola. If you include a smoked meat, limit it to one. As one chef says, after a while all you taste is smoke.

[Note: a pâté is meat in a spreadable paste texture. Most people think of duck or chicken liver as pâté and it’s true those are most common, but pâté can be made of beef, game, fish, even vegetables. They are usually richly seasoned with herbs, spices, and either wine or brandy. Often, they are made in a loaf or terrine pan, chilled, and sliced. A terrine is distinguished by its texture. Ingredients are coarsely chopped. Pork is the most common base ingredient but again, game, seafood, poultry may be used.]

Two ounces of meat per person is usually enough, since the meats tend to be rich.

Suggested accompaniments: olives, nuts, a good grainy mustard, cornichons, chutney, or jam. Serve a variety of crusty breads and plenty of forks. Small individual plates are a good idea.

Antipasto: an antipasto platter makes wider use of a variety of foods. Cured meats such as prosciutto and salami may be the basis, but add cheeses, perhaps bocconcini (those mozzarella balls), a hard Pecorino or grana, and a provolone somewhere in the middle. Vegetables are also prominent on the antipasto platter—cherry tomatoes, artichoke hearts, broccoli or cauliflower pieces, sliced sweet onion or whole scallions, hearts of palm, celery slices, baby carrots, capers. If you’re ambitious, devil an egg for each of your guests Bread sticks are traditional but it’s nice to offer bread too, maybe crusty baguette slices.

Garnishes: my mother, a fabulous cook, always told me food is half eaten with the eye. It’s particularly important to remember that when laying out these platters. Tuck a leafy green—radicchio or watercress or flat Italian parsley—here and there among the meats and cheeses. Use grapes as a focal point. Stand back and look at your platter to see if the colors and spacing draw your eye.

Once you get the hang of these platters, you can put one together in minutes. An unexpected or last-minute guest? Just whip up a platter, and you’ll rank high as host or hostess.

I haven’t quite made the final decision for Sunday’s antipasto, but I resisted the temptation to add pickled herring, because I figured I was the only one who would eat it. And I did add liverwurst—we’ll see who eats that. But I hope there’s enough variety for everyone. And, yes, I will devil some eggs—I found a recipe the other day where you put in tiny bits of almost every spice in your cabinet, but it’s for a dozen eggs. Not sure I can reduce it enough for four eggs! I also resisted white anchovies, another taste I love, because I know Sue’s husband Teddy doesn’t like them.

I do hope no one will go home hungry, but I’m a bit worried about Christian. Several things he won’t touch, so I’ve added some sliced roast bison and some black olives specifically for him.

Adapted from Gourmet on a Hot Plate: Tiny KItchen Tips and Recipes: Alter, Judy, Alter, Judy: 9780996993531: Amazon.com: Books

 

 

In praise of peanut butter

 

Image by Freepik

When I was a kid, peanut butter and mayonnaise sandwich was a staple in our household. I loved it, still do, but to this day when I mention it, it’s like I recommended eating liver for supper (that’s not bad either). Most people seem never to have heard of the sandwich combination although truth is it has been a staple in southern America since the Great Depression. The combination of tangy mayonnaise (I do not think Miracle Whip is an acceptable substitute) with salty peanut butter was a cheap and good source of nourishment. Traditionally, the sandwich, like a tomato or pimiento cheese sandwich, was always made with white bread, what I call “cotton candy bread” because of the way it dissolves in your mouth. I prefer a good rye bread with my peanut butter.

Some weird variations have come to my attention over the years. The “Elvis sandwich” adds crumbled bacon and sliced bananas. Some people add lettuce for a bit of crispness—my mom was of the lettuce school. Others add grated cheese—sharp cheddar adds a distinctive flavor, while the milder cheddar gives the sandwich a creamier texture. When really hungry, I’ve been known to add bacon, cheese, and lettuce to the basic sandwich.

The other day I ran across one of those online glimpses into what we ate in the past. This harked back not to the food of the Fifties which so intrigues me but to the wartime days of the forties, when men were recruited as civilian defense workers and air raid wardens. (I remember walking our neighborhood with my uncle, looking for illegal cracks of light peeking through blackout curtains.) Whoever compiled these sandwich fillings meant them to sustain these men, many working outdoors for the first time in their lives.       

Peanut butter was a staple. With chili sauce. With prunes and pickle relish (an odd combination, to my mind). With green pepper and celery (nice crunch and okay if you like bell pepper, which I don’t). With raisins (maybe, but mayo would help). With chopped ham, vinegar, and salt and pepper (no idea how much vinegar, but I’m skeptical).

Cheese was another staple. Grated, with ketchup, onion, Tabaso, and cream (I’m still trying to figure out what the cream was doing in there). Sliced, with ham, Worcestershire sauce, cream, and mayonnaise.. Cream cheese with ham and mustard. Cream cheese with grated raw carrot, a few drops of lemon juice, and salt and pepper. (A digression: as a child, my Colin loved a cream cheese and mayonnaise sandwich, and I can still hear one of his playmates protesting, “But Colin, it has no flavor!”)

And then there were some surprises: Veal salad made with celery, lemon juice, mustard, salt and pepper, and mayonnaise (veal must have been considerably cheaper in those days). Liver sausage salad with pickle, onion, and mayonnaise (maybe popular during the war but probably wouldn’t get many takers today).  Mashed baked beans with mayonnaise. Or add applesauce to those beans. Crab meat salad had pimiento, cucumber and mayonnaise. And then, of course there were egg salad and ham salad.

I don’t expect many to try these odd combinations, but when was the last time you made peanut butter cookies? In the spirit of leaving you with a usable recipe from this weekly column, here’s my peanut butter cookie recipe. I bet it sounds familiar to you but, like me, you haven’t thought about it in a while.

 

Peanut butter cookies

1 cup dark brown sugar, packed

½ cup white sugar

1 cup butter, softened to room temperature—Mom may have used the new margarine, I’m not sure, but I can imagine her using two sticks of butter. I recommend butter, however.

2 eggs

1 cup smooth peanut butter

2-1/4 cup flour

2 level tsp. baking soda

½ tsp. salt

Cream sugars and butter. Add eggs and peanut butter. Add flour, soda, and salt.

Roll a small amount of dough in the palm of your hand to make a round ball. Place on greased cookie sheet. With a fork,  press down on dough ball, first in one direction and then in the other so that you create a criss-cross pattern. This is the hallmark of peanut butter cookies, and they won’t taste the same without it.

Bake at350^o for 12 – 15 minutes or until edges barely start to brown.

PS: A warning. Do you feed your dog peanut butter? I used to slather it on a cracker to hide a pill, but some peanut butters today have a sugar-free ingredient called xylitol. It can be fatal to a dog within minutes. Read your labels when buying peanut butter—or anything else.

 

Norwegian hamburgers

 

A couple of days ago I shared a short story I’d written several years ago as part of my Kelly O’Connell Mysteries. The story was built around a small café that Kelly wandered into. The owner, a sweet older lady, served her a delicious meal. At the center of it were what the woman called meat cakes.

I learned about meat cakes from Colin’s mother-in-law, Torhild, who grew up in Norway and came to this country at the age of seventeen to marry her soldier, John Griesbach. Torhild’s meat cakes were an immediate hit with my whole family, but we call them Norwegian hamburgers. (No buns needed.)

 I could believe they had packaged gravy mixes when Torhild was young, and I was sure that’s an American shortcut she introduced! But then a friend did a little research

Torhild calls them Norwegian meat cakes, but we’ve all come to use the term hamburger. I thought these cakes or patties were called kjottkaker, but that's the word for meatballs; in Norwegian, meat cakes are karbonader. (Think of beef carbonnade which is a beef stew of French of Belgian origin.)

I couldn’t believe they used packaged gravy mix when she was young—I thought that’s an American shortcut she introduced! Turns out they had packaged gravy mixes in Europe as early as the Twenties. The U.S. probably saw the sudden popularity of prepared foods that’s probably when we got gravy mixes.

 

Norwegian hamburgers

3-4 slices of onion

3 Tbsp. butter (do not use oil)

1½ lbs. extra-lean hamburger (extra-lean is important)

2 eggs

3 Tbsp. cornstarch or potato starch

½ tsp. pepper

Milk as needed

4-5 envelopes instant gravy mix, prepared as directed

2 beef bouillon cubes

Sauté onion in butter. Mix hamburger, eggs, cornstarch and pepper. Add milk as needed; start with ¼ c. and add ¼ c. at a time, but DON’T let the meat mixture get soggy. Shape into patties, chill briefly to help them hold together, and brown in same skillet as onions. Remove.

Make gravy in skillet, according to package directions. Add 2 bouillon cubes or tsp if using a concentrate. When gravy thickens, return burgers and onions to pan and simmer 45 to 60 minutes.

 

Want to avoid prepared gravy mixes and make your own? Here’s a quick recipe”

Gravy Mix (this makes enough for eight batches of gravy)

Ingredient

3 Tbsp. beef bouillon granules; do not use concentrate

3/4 cup plus 1 Tbsp. all-purpose flour

1/4 to 1/2 tsp. pepper

Store in air-tight container in a cool, dry place for up to six months.

For each batch, add:

1/8 dry mix

4-1/2 tsp. butter

3/4 cup cold water

To prepare gravy: In a small saucepan, melt butter. Add 2 Tbsp. gravy mix. Cook and stir until lightly browned, about 1 minute. Whisk in water until smooth. Bring to a boil; cook and stir for 2 minutes or until thickened.

Serve with white rice, egg noodles, or boiled potatoes. Peas, beets, or green beans are nice with this. If you want to be traditional, serve some lingonberry sauce on the side.
Skål!

 PS There's a twist to the short story. If you haven't read, "The Village Gaarden," read it here: View from the Cottage: 2024 (judys-stew.blogspot.com)

 

The evolution of a recipe

 

This is the tuna I order by the case 
from a small fishing vessel in Oregon.

In working on my possible cookbook about my mom and me in the kitchen and the food of the fifties, I’ve been fascinated to realize that while I often use Mom’s recipes just as she did, I also sometimes adapt a recipe to tastes seventy years later. Few things in life are more trendy than foods, so it’s fun for me to rescue some old goodies from undeserved obscurity or to see how things change. My pot roast, for instance, builds on what Mom did but I add my own touch. Or meatloaf—she made it one way but I have three or four choices I like, all of them family favorites.

So I was interested when a friend sent me a recipe for a tuna spread, along with an explanation of the changes she made. I followed her recipe last night—but made some of my own changes. Tuna and cream cheese are the base for all three versiions. Here’s the original recipe:

Tuna spread

Ingredients

2 (6-1/2 oz,) cans tuna, drained

8 oz. cream cheese, softened

1 tsp. grated onion

Salt and pepper to taste

½ cup mayonnaise

3 Tbsp. hot sauce

2 Tbsp. chopped fresh parsley

Dash of lemon-pepper seasoning

1 tsp. Worcestershire sauce

Chill overnight before serving.

Updating the recipe

Anne wrote that she halved the recipe and used less hot sauce and what she had was old, so not too potent. She added a sprinkle of cayenne. She also stirred in some lemon juice and grated parmesan.

My first thought was that Anne was absolutely right to halve it. Two cans of tuna and a whole package of cream cheese would make enough for a large party. Almost as quickly I thought that 3 Tbsp. of hot sauce would render anything inedible for my palate—like Anne, I’m a wimp about hot things. I don’t even keep hot sauce in my kitchen, nor do I have lemon-pepper seasoning. And I don’t grate onion. For dips, I always use one or more green onions. Then I found I had a partially cut lime in the fridge, so I substituted that for lemon. It struck me that Worcestershire was an unusual ingredient with tuna, but I used it and believe it added a bit of depth to the spread.

The result of all my adapting was good—I served it with wine and after my guest left made myself a sandwich. But I thought it a bit bland. For one thing I should not have been so hesitant about the cayenne. Here’s the recipe I would recommend.

Judy’s revised tuna spread

Ingredients

1 6-1/2 oz. can tuna in water, drained

4 oz. cream cheese

1 green onion, including most of the top, minced very fine

Salt and pepper to taste

¼ cup mayonnaise

¼ tsp. cayenne

Juice of one lime

2 Tbsp. fresh parsley plus some for garnish

1 tsp. Worcestershire

Blend all ingredients and chill at least four hours.

A note about my sandwich: I remember having chicken salad sandwiches at Neiman Marcus—there was always a slice of bacon in the middle. Last night I was frying bacon for Jacob’s supper and thought why not? So I put a slice of bacon in my sandwich. Delicious! The flavors didn’t fight at all, and the crunch was nice. Reminded me that I sometimes put potato chips in a tuna sandwich for the crunch.

I have sons-in-law, two of them, who won’t touch canned tuna. I can’t imagine a kitchen without it!