January 25, 2022

Dear friends,

We’re in a slum version of an RV park in Riviera Beach, Fla. It’s the only place we could find after searching for a campsite for eight months last summer and fall. Covid-ridden  Florida may be a crazy place to spend the pandemic, but that hasn’t stopped snowbirds  from trying.

What’s more, I’m happy to be here despite the cigarette butts that litter the ground and a neighbor who panhandles us for money. I relax in a lawn chair, eyes closed to the imperfections, grateful it’s not minus-11 degrees.

That my friends sojourn in fancy condos on the Gulf while I camp in near squallor seems appropriate to me. At heart I’m still the kid from East Liverpool who rode second-hand bikes and went to college on scholarship.

That’s probably why I didn’t bat an eye at making a cornstarch-thickened pudding last week. In some circles, it’s the Hamburger Helper of pudding. In my prime I would have separated eggs and patiently thickened the yolks in a double boiler to enrich and clot the cream. Now, I consider cornstarch a big step up from a box of instant, kind of like my campground vs. Ohio at minus-11 degrees.

I just had to make the pudding after tasting a Jamaican rum version at a nearby street market. The vendor, who calls her cottage business Taste T’s Pastries, crumbles crunchy, rum-soaked ladyfingers into the rich, silky stuff. Tony wasn’t interested until I forced a spoonful on him. His eyes actually widened before he said, “Wow!”

Taste T’s pudding is thick and satiny with a serious rum kick. I’m sure she thickens it with eggs. Mine is less thick but still delicious, with a rum kick that could probably get you tipsy if you ate too much.

A couple of notes: The ladyfingers that I used and I’m pretty sure Taste T did, too, are crunchy like amaretti. I bought Goya brand in an Hispanic market. The other note, and this one is very important, is to resist stirring the pudding after it bubbles. As the mixture heats up, stir less and less. Before the first bubble appears, put the spoon down. Simmer without stirring for the last minute. Otherwise, the pudding will never set up. I don’t have a photo this week because mine didn’t set up. It was ugly but delicious.

RUM PUDDING

1/3 cup sugar

2 tbsp. cornstarch

Dash of salt

2 cups half and half

1/4 cup (4 tbsp.) rum

4 crisp ladyfingers

Combine sugar, cornstarch and salt in a saucepan. Stir in about one-fourth cup of the half and half and stir until smooth. Stir in remaining half and half. Cook and stir over medium heat until mixture almost comes to a simmer. Stir in 3 tablespoons of the rum. Stop stirring. When pudding begins to bubble, cook for 1 minute longer without stirring.

Remove pudding from heat and let stand at room temperature until pudding cools and thickens. Pour into a lidded container and chill. Meanwhile, sprinkle ladyfingers with remaining 1 tablespoon rum. Just before serving, break ladyfingers into chunks and place in each of four custard cups. Spoon thickened pudding over ladyfingers. Makes 4 servings.

GUT CHECK

What I cooked last week:

Cream of wheat and avocado toast; katsu don (panko fried pork cutlet over rice with sauce and steamed egg); rum pudding.

What I ate out/carried in:

Roast sticky pork ribs, fried plantains, black beans and rice from Presidente Supermarket in Mangonia Park, Fla.; noodle salad with marinated pork and spring rolls at Pho & Hot Pot in Lake Park, Fla.; a Cuban sandwich from the Connection Deli in Jupiter; rum pudding from Taste T’s Pastries food cart; jerk chicken, cabbage, rice and peas from Yaad Spice in West Palm Beach; a bacon and cheese croissant from Yankee Produce in Juno Beach; gyoza and California roll from Ninja Sushi in Riviera Beach; empanadas and Jamaican meat pies from Publix Supermarket; steamed shrimp, braised beef in puff pastry, a stuffed baked oyster and a sugared doughnut at Mikada Buffet in Stuart; a chicken empanada and guava pastry at Tulipan in North Palm Beach.

THE MAILBAG

From Peggy P.:

Please don’t let our aging brains hold you back from writing. Please know that those of us who have been with you all these years are older, too. And we are patient. Good grief, if living through these last two years doesn’t prove that, then there is no proof.

Dear Peggy:

I can’t argue with that. Thank you.

From Jenny O.:

I have your original black bean soup recipe from the Beacon Journal. Would you like it or do you have it by now?

Love your column and I don’t mean to pressure you, but it would be crushing to me if you stopped your column. It means so much to me. But I want you to do what’s best for you. I just want you to know how much you are appreciated for all you do for us and how much I look forward to hearing from you every two weeks. You are a wealth of great recipes and information. Every recipe I make from you is just wonderful and goes to my “Go To” file. So, many thanks to you for all you do.

Dear Jenny:

This is a perfect example of why I contemplated quitting. In more rigorous times,  modesty would forbid me from running your letter. I’d just send you a private thanks and shut up about it. But my standards are slipping and what the heck, I need Mailbag fodder. So here you are. Thanks so much for your kind words.

As for the soup recipe, I do have it and make it about once a year. This is a good time to remind everyone that all of my Beacon Journal recipes are available with a library card from the Akron-Summit County Public Library. Just log into the library online, call up the digital version of the newspaper from the library’s digital database, and type the recipe name or whatever info you recall into the search program. Presto.

January 12, 2022

Dear friends,

I’m lucky to have a friend like Jan Norris, whose family goes back five generations in Florida. Not only is Jan deeply rooted in the state, she knows just about everything worth knowing about its food. She was the food editor of the Palm Beach Post before she retired, and one of the finest reporters and food writers of our era.

Jan and I met on the road. We have shared cocktails in Dallas, nectarine and blackberry crisp in Portland, Ore., and squab baked in acorn squash in Atlanta. We ate all over North America together in pursuit of food stories. But we never met on home ground until Tony and I began spending winters near her digs in Riviera Beach, Fla.

Having a food editor as a tour guide is as exciting as it sounds. Sunday she took us on a multi-hour food tour with a stop for a stupefying Southern brunch that began with a warm cinnamon roll as big as a softball, with caramel sauce on the side.

Jan promised to sketch a map of all places she pointed out during our tour — the Cuban bakeries, European delis, German grocery stores, the best bagel shop, tea houses, fish stores, top sushi restaurants and best waterside spots for cocktails. She also promised to give me the recipe for her mother’s famous Fresh Florida Orange Cake, made every Christmas Eve for the buffet spread to which half the town was invited. I’ll let Jan tell the story:

My mother, Nellie Harrelson, from Pensacola, Fla, made this cake every

Christmas — and only at Christmas. It requires fresh Florida juice oranges, and never out of season navels or others. Certainly none from California. Native Floridians make

several versions of this: I like this simple one best.

Our family lived in Wilton Manors, Fla., a town adjacent to Fort Lauderdale. My

parents would hold an elaborate open-house buffet each Christmas Eve in our small

home.

This party with family, friends, neighbors, and my dad’s clients (he was a painting

contractor for the well heeled) went on for 15 years; no invite was required. Everyone

knew to just show up. Judges, doctors, attorneys – roofers, dockhands, it didn’t matter.

My father told everyone to “come for a drink and a bite.”

On the groaning round table would be a fresh ham, a cured ham, a turkey and a

roast beef. Dozens of Southern sides — mom’s cornbread dressing, sweet potato

casserole, green beans with tiny potatoes, ambrosia, and so on would be crammed on the table in our small dining room.

But the crown jewels were the cakes.

My mother was not a baker: It’s the only time of year she’d make these cakes.

Her buttermilk pound cake sufficed the rest of the year, and usually for picnics and

funerals. Every now and then, she’d make a pie or cobbler.

But for this feast, she would make the fresh orange cake, a traditional Southern

coconut cake, a boozy, beautiful Lane cake, and long before it became a fad, a red velvet cake. It took days to complete all this cooking and baking— especially the Lane cake with all the fruit and nuts that had to be chopped. The house smelled sensational.

The orange cake was made last: It was always fresh, and she kept spooning the

syrup up over it till the first guest arrived.

She would bake extra cakes, and trade a Lane cake and a coconut cake with a

cousin and an aunt. They made duplicates of their 12-thin-layer chocolate glazed cake,

and a pecan-studded German chocolate cake, respectively, so everyone had a variety.

Six cakes in all stood lined up on the bar. There were pumpkin and mince pies,

too, and someone always sent a bar of fruitcake, but those homemade cakes were the

“show” — and the reason many showed up for this affair that rocked until midnight. A

couple arrived in the wee hours one year, catching my parents putting together toys for us girls. My always-gracious mother fixed them a plate and they ate while helping Dad build a tricycle.

We’d eat for a month, entertaining others, on all the leftovers. That fresh ham

went into a pot of turnip and mustard greens for New Year’s Day — another party for our

Southern friends and kin.

My parents started to plan a move to Hawthorne, Fla., as they aged and we girls moved

out with our own families. They discontinued the open house tradition sometime in the

1980s.

But every Christmas Eve while they still owned the house, a few people would show up, expecting it, and my mom would feed them with whatever we had — and

always a piece of cake.

I make all the cakes now in the family: My sister doesn’t bake. It’s a warm and

very tasty connection to my mom.

NELLIE’S FRESH FLORIDA ORANGE CAKE

For the 1-2-3-4 cake:

3 9-inch cake pans

1 cup unsalted butter (2 sticks), softened slightly

2 cups white sugar

4 eggs

3 cups sifted all-purpose flour

1 tsp. salt

3 tsp. baking powder

1 cup milk

1 1/2 tsp. vanilla extract

For the orange syrup:

1 12 oz. can frozen orange juice concentrate with pulp, thawed

Juice of 6 Florida juice oranges (small, thin-skinned)

Grated zest of 6 oranges (about ½ cup)

1 ¾ cups white sugar

Directions:

Prepare three 9-inch metal cake pans: Spray with baking spray or use a thin coating of

shortening and flour to coat sides and bottom. Set aside. Heat oven to 350 degrees.

For the cakes:

Cream butter and sugar on medium speed of an electric mixer until light and fluffy. Add eggs one at a time, beating after each addition. 

In a medium bowl, whisk flour with the salt and baking powder to combine.

Briefly beat the vanilla extract into the creamed eggs and sugar. Alternately add milk and flour to beater bowl, a little at a time, mixing on medium-low speed just until combined.

Mix at medium speed for 1 minute, scraping sides of bowl.

Spoon 1/3 of batter into each cake pan. Knock bottom of cake pans on counter to release air bubbles.

Bake at 350 degrees in center of oven for 25-35 minutes, or until cake tops are browned

slightly and center springs back to touch. Let cool in pans 10 minutes, then turn out onto rack to complete cooling.

While cakes cool, prepare orange syrup:

Pour orange juice concentrate into medium bowl. Add freshly squeezed juice and orange zest, using wire whisk to combine.

Add sugar, ¼ cup at a time, stirring well after each addition with spatula to get sugar

from bottom of bowl. (This takes time, but sugar must be incorporated thoroughly.)

To build the cake:

For the least mess, use a cake plate with a lip. Slice cake layers in half horizontally.

Begin with a cut side up, placing in center of plate. Spoon syrup over cake surface, poking holes in cake as you go with a medium-sized skewer. Cover cake surface with syrup thoroughly.

Continue with remaining layers, saving a rounded layer for the top. Place rounded side up. Poke holes all over cake top. Spoon all remaining syrup over top, and let drip down sides. Spoon syrup that pools on plate over top of cake, allowing it to soak into cake.

Let rest, then sprinkle reserved zest, tossed with a little sugar, over cake.

Refrigerate cake and leftovers. This cake freezes beautifully (wrap well) and is delicious directly from freezer.

GUT CHECK

What I cooked recently:

Black bean soup; oatmeal with raisins; pan-grilled hamburgers; chicken noodle soup (homemade stock, purchased noodles) for Oscar, who had 11 teeth pulled; pan-grilled filet mignons, stir-fried sugar snap peas and baked potatoes with sour cream;  chicken salad with pecans and dried cherries.

What I ate out/carried in:

Pepperoni pizza from Big Star in Copley; ham and cheese sub from Subway; pulled pork and slaw sandwich, corn bread and potato salad from Smok’n Pig BBQ in Valdosta, Ga.; jerk chicken, fried sweet plantains, cooked cabbage and a meat pie from Sweet Jamaica Flava in Morrow, Ga.; marinated quarter chicken, yellow rice, black beans from La Granja in Riviera Beach, Fla.; beef empanada, alfajores cookie and cafe con leche at Tulipan Cafe & Bakery in North Palm Beach, Fla.; marinated, roast chicken quarters and fresh corn tortillas from Tortilleria Gallo de Oro in Port Salerno, Fla.; cheese arepa from La Granja; cinnamon roll with caramel sauce, grilled ham steak, eggs over easy, grits and seeded wheat toast at Butterfields Southern Cafe in Royal Palm Beach, Fla.

THE MAILBAG

From Joy in British Columbia, Canada:

Hi Jane. Hope you had a good Christmas considering the restrictions we have to adhere to if we hope to stay safe from the godforsaken, unpredictable virus.

How is your Oscar doing? Still giving his Mom lots of doggie hugs and kisses?

I thought I’d do a little search after receiving your second email regarding not using the black bean soup recipe in your Dec. 29 newsletter because it was not complete. I came across a black bean soup recipe created by you in a 1999 Chicago Tribune link.  You mentioned the inspiration for your black bean soup came from Sarah Leah Chase’s “Cold Weather Cooking.” I have the same book and it’s a lovely book, actually.

Anyway, I hope this will be of help and perhaps bring back a few fond memories.

All the best in the New Year, Jane, and let’s hope 2022 brings a complete turnabout for the good in everyone’s lives. Enough is enough.

Dear Joy:

You said it — enough is enough of this virus. l stayed home on Christmas rather than visit family, who were all ill. I’m grumpy about it.

The soup recipe I shared and then jerked back was more than just incomplete. It was embarrassingly bad. I plead age-related mental lapse. My former favorite soup, the one I compared my latest to, is the one you saw based on a recipe from Sarah Leah Chase’s terrific book.

I created the recipe for my latest black bean soup in November, and it was so delicious I couldn’t stop eating it — even cold, for breakfast. But Thanksgiving loomed, and then I had to come up with Christmas recipes, so the bean soup newsletter was put on the back burner. I didn’t write down the recipe because I was sure I would remember it.

When I finally wrote the newsletter, I was fuzzy on the recipe but sent it to my publisher anyway, figuring I’d have time to re-test and amend the recipe if necessary. I retested and the soup was awful. Worse, I didn’t know why. Even worse, my publisher said the newsletter had already been sent.

So there you have it — yet another sign that I should hang it up. As you can see, I’m still writing but wary of brain slips. I’ll continue as long as I don’t make an utter fool of myself, because I do get encouragement from readers to keep going. I’ll try.

By the way, Oscar is great now, after having 11 teeth pulled the Tuesday after Christmas. We had held off on dental work because anesthetic can be dangerous for old dogs (he is 15). We shouldn’t have. Thanks for asking.

From Sandy H.:

I wondered if you have Shisler’s Chicken Salad recipe (from Copley)?  If so, can you print it or send it along?

Dear Sandy:

I don’t have it but I know a lot of people do. If someone would send the recipe to me, I’ll share it for everyone to enjoy. I was too late to copy the recipe from the page posted in the kitchen when the deli was closing. How nice that the opportunity was extended to everyone who dropped by.