In the late 30s we lived in
Great River, N.Y., on Long Island. My first food memory is of eating Wheaties, the Breakfast of Champions, topped
with a banana and the flakes swam in 100 % full fat pasteurized milk. Did I
like it? Who knows? I ate it.
We moved to Sayville, NY for
a year or two. Sweet apple cider graced our tastes in a Halloween season. Sweet, very sweet and creamy icing birthday
cake tastes come back to me.
In the early 40s, dad was the
rector of Church of the Redeemer in Astoria, Queens, N.Y. On December 7, 1941, after
dinner, I listened on the radio to the news of the Japanese attack on Pearl
Harbor. I was lying on my stomach reading the comics. I was 10 years old.
This was the last time he was
rector of a parish. He held church services on Sunday. Afterward, Grandpa
Reinemann or mother would cook a traditional roast, mashed potatoes, vegetable
and dessert. Canned fruit salad was a favorite and I yearned for the pale red cherries.
Then after dad napped and the evening came, we had traditional Sunday night
supper, cold cuts of baloney, salami, liverwurst, Swiss cheese, mustard, green
pickles, bread and rolls to make sandwiches.
Two kinds of potato salad, German made with vinegar and American made
with mayonnaise were standards. Adults did not want to cook another meal after
a big dinner in the early afternoon. When we left Astoria dad worked in
hospitals, prisons and did interim work in churches around Brooklyn and Queens.
He was not home for Sunday dinner in the afternoons anymore. We did eat well in the evenings when he
returned home.
Grandpa Reinemann lived with
us off and on until his death. He often cooked dinner as my mother and father both
worked in the 1940s. He made lentil soup with frankfurters cut up in it. I
loved the salty, chewy texture of the meat and the rich nutty flavor of the
lentils. Nutty is not a word I would have used then to describe a taste. Grandpa also made spaghetti and meatballs
right out of the can. An Italian family lived next door to the rectory on High
Street in Brooklyn in the 1930s. The mother made real meatballs, brown atop red
sauce and pale spaghetti. I knew they were different from the ones Grandpa got
out of the can. But who cared? I didn’t. I ate any and everything put in front
of me.
Orange soda was our favorite
drink. My brother Edwin and I drank at least one bottle every day. After dinner
we dash out of the house and across the lawn to the candy store located two
doors down. Shirley took our small change, removed a cold bottle of orange soda
from the red icebox with Coca Cola written on it, popped off the cap and gave
it to her regular customers from next door. Off we would go, out to play in the
summer or into the house to listen to the radio in winter. I used to wonder why
I had so many cavities in my teeth growing up. I know now.
Going to the movies was
another culinary opportunity for us pre-teen kids. Saturday and Sunday
afternoons we ran off to the Loews Tri-Boro or Skouras Steinway for the double
features. For many years it we ate Black Crows, then multi-colored Dots and
then Raisenettes, sweet raisins covered with milk chocolate.
During the later war years,
my mother Helen would take Edwin and me out for “pitz ai ol.” That is how I
pronounced pizzeria. No such thing then as a pizza parlor or pizza by the
slice. We went to John’s Bar and Grill
on Fulton Street in the East New York section of Brooklyn, dad often worked
late during the war years. There was a bar with stools on one side of the
restaurant and red and brown booths on the other. We sat in one of the booths.
Mother ordered beer for herself and orange sodas for us boys. The pizza came in
one large round 24-inch platter. No such thing as salami, vegetables, pineapple
or sardine topping. It was just cheese and tomatoes, period. We scarfed up the
pizza slice by slice pushing the crust aside. Smooth and stringy cheese hung
from the slices and the tangy tomatoes blended in on top. Mother ate crusts and
all. We loved the pizza.
When we lived in Brooklyn,
mom and dad had some financial difficulties. Dad would say, “Three more days
until pay-day, so go easy.” But we always had food, shelter, heat, clothes and
a happy loving home. One day I got home from school and found a note that mom
and dad would not be home for dinner. I was 13. When I went to get something to
eat for Edwin and me, there was just some bread and butter. So that’s what we
had for dinner. When dad got home he saw
there was no food. He was aghast. He went to the hallway door and there was the
food delivery that he had arranged knowing that our cupboard was bare. The
delivery boy had put the groceries where we didn’t immediately see when we boys
got home. My father was apologetic, chagrined
and embarrassed. He hugged us and kept saying how awful he felt that we did not
have enough food. We goofy kids did not think much about it. Looking back I can
certainly see how awful he, and mother felt.
Dad loved the bakeries nearby
on Decatur Street and Ralph Avenue and Fulton and Warwick Streets. There were
always brown cinnamon buns with white icing, powder-sugared jelly donuts or
apple pies or their leavings around the house. Dad’s father had been trained as
a baker, owned bakeries and for many years was a bread maker at the Navy YMCA,
all in Brooklyn.
The war raged in Europe and
the Pacific. We boys played soldiers and sailors, built mock airplanes and
pretended to be air aces shooting down Japs and Nazis. Food stamps were issued.
Butter and meat were scarce, but we seemed to have whatever we wanted.
In August 1945 World War II
ended. For the following summer there were street parties every weekend evening
in various Brooklyn neighborhoods. Streets were blocked off from traffic. Small
bands of drums, trumpet, clarinet and guitar played for dancing and just for watching
and singing. Ah, the food. It was hot dogs, sausages, buns, sauerkraut, mustard,
relish, onions, pizza and donuts. There was always a keg of beer for the adults
and plenty of sodas for us kids.
When I was in high school in
summers I often went to Rockaway beach to swim in the Atlantic Ocean and ogle
the girls, bake in the sun and eat the sandwiches, which I brought with me from
home. I loved Silvercup, the World’s
Finest Bread, white, cushy with soft brown crusts. I spread one slice of
bread with peanut butter and the other with purple grape jelly. I made eight
such sandwiches, sometimes threw in an apple and put them in a brown paper bag.
I went to St. Paul’s School
in Garden City, New York for high school. Boarders and day students went to classes
together. Since the school provided
three meals a day for the boarders, we dayboys ate lunch in the dining room. We
had to wear coat and tie. I hardly remember the food except for two items that
everyone else hated but I liked and ate heartily. One was known as shit on a shingle. It was
creamed chipped beef on a slice of toast. I liked its salty tang and smooth
creamy sauce on a nice piece of toast. Most boys left their main course only to
be cleared away by whatever boy was assigned to the job for that day.
The other despised dish was a
dessert of prune whip. The prunes were spun into whipped cream in a tan amalgam
of sweetness and quite nice flavors. I always ate mine and took one or two
extras from the other boys who disdained theirs. We ate prunes at home from
time to time, so I liked the flavor. Since I lived in Brooklyn and my folks
never earned much money, I ate everything. The other boys at school came from
more affluent homes, had more refined foods, tastes or were just spoiled and
picky. I suspect the latter.
In summers I went to Camp
DeWolfe in Wading River, N.Y. on Long Island. I don’t remember the food at all.
However, I never complained and continued my pattern of eating what was
presented. One afternoon off, a group of us counselors went to a small
restaurant nearby for lunch. I ordered a liverwurst sandwich on rye bread. It
came with mustard, dill pickle and lettuce. I wallowed in the taste and sharp livery
flavor, the crunch of the lettuce and sense of satisfaction inhaling that delicious
sandwich. I did not like the flavor of Coca Cola so I ordered a Ginger Ale I
liked its snap and sweetness.
One summer’s day I went to
the West Side Tennis Club in Forest Hills, N.Y. with friends who were member.
They went off to watch some match, leaving me on the deck overlooking the deep
green lawns of the club. I ordered a Coke, for some damn reason I can’t fathom.
It came in a tall glass with ice cubes, a slice of lemon and a maraschino
cherry with a mint leaf flowering the glass. I took a sip and found the taste
refreshing and delicious. The sickly sweetness of the Coke was diluted. I
thought, I’m hooked. Oddly enough it never took. I may have had one or two more
like that one in my long life, but I never order a Coke.
I think I hate the ludicrous
profits made by that company and the teeth that it has rotted throughout the
world, especially in poor countries. It symbolizes to me the way American
companies have polluted the countries, citizens, profits and poor around the
world. Besides, I really don’t like the rich sweet flavor.
College, Seminary, Lillian,
Judith, Bachelor, Ann and Now.
Food during college and
seminary days was highly forgettable.
When we lived on Welfare
Island a cook came with my dad’s job paid by as a chaplain, a New York City
employee. Her name was Bertha, an enormous African American woman who came in
to work from 9-5 on weekdays. She did make wonderful soups. She made pea soup
rich with cream and salt, carrot soups and others. Otherwise she prepared
roasts, steaks, chops and fish. I have no idea if she used fresh vegetables.
I’ll bet she didn’t. She was always polite and pleasant but seldom really
friendly. I don’t even remember if she had a family.
I worked for a few months for
Nedick’s, a fast food chain that served hot dogs, hamburgers, orange drink and
coffee. I ate those hungrily and without noticing much about what I ate.
In seminary I ate the
institutional fare offered from the kitchen, fattening and producing naps. I
cannot remember any specific food I ate during those years.
Lillian and I had married by
then. At home we ate simple breakfasts of cereal, bacon and eggs and dinners
that she prepared with meat, some fish, occasional Spam and frozen vegetables.
This was in the fifties. The same diet prevailed during our whole marriage. Lillian
did make a fine beef stew, which I enjoyed, and miss even now. She liked salads
and we had those. Our daughters liked and disliked the various foods presented
depending on the varying tastes and interests they had at different times.
We moved to California in
1962 with our children, Leigh, Sarah and Jessica.
We dined much as we had while
we lived in seminary and in the East. Our daughters adapted to our eating
habits
One day a new friend, Don
George, invited me to lunch in a Japanese restaurant. I had never been in such
a place before. He said try this sushi, small pieces of raw salmon or tuna over
rice. I tried it and loved it immediately. I eat sushi every week now.
We divorced in 1969. I became
a bachelor and had to shop and cook on my own, which I did for thirteen years.
In the early 70s a revolution in food and cooking swept California and much of
the nation, especially in the major cities.
Fresh vegetables and locally
grown foods became popular – eggs, cheese, greens, meat, chicken and locally
caught fresh fish. Pasta-making fresh at home became popular, so also bread
making. Most of all that passed me by.
Judith came into my life. She
was a fine cook and I spent a lot of time watching her cook. Hearing her talk about fresh vegetables and
taking time to cook and really looking at and tasting food began to awaken in
me a desire to try things on my own.
One day she saw me open a
package of frozen broccoli. She said, “Robert, try fresh broccoli. I t is very
easy to cook, about eight minutes in a steamer. It takes about the same time to
open the package and cook the frozen vegetable.” After that, I did in fact buy fresh beans,
corn
and carrots and cook them when I cooked for
myself.
We often dined out. We would
pay attention to the food, discuss it and taste it more deeply that I had ever
done before. I began to enjoy food more. I added chicken, fish and pasta to my
meat heavy diet.
She introduced me to a wide
variety of dishes, tongue with a green relish sauce, cucumbers in vinegar with
a dash of sugar and a thick slit pork chop with prosciutto and cheese.
The San Francisco Dinner Party Cookbook by Judith Ets-Hokin, was published in 1975. I still
use some of her recipes.
I discovered the 60-Minute Gourmet, by Pierre Franey, recipes
from his New York Times column. I did
not want to spend a lot of time cooking. But these recipes gave a rich variety
to eating and asked for fresh ingredients. I have used this and other cookbook
recipes to this day.
After marrying Ann in 1983, I
did the shopping and cooking and enjoy those “wifely” chores. Ann is a fine
cook but she takes her time. Impatient me, I like to eat dinner on time and get
on with the evening. As I had a more leisurely schedule as a parish priest than
she did as a very busy high school English teacher, my cooking was a natural
and easy way to do things.
Ann did not want much meat
and I was easy about that. I often ate out for lunch and had hamburgers and a
steak more often than she did anyway.
I love to prepare chicken in
a wide variety of ways. My recent favorite is a chicken with Italian sausage
and potatoes with lots of rosemary baked in the oven for an hour or less.
Chicken in Mexican or Mediterranean style with olives, marinated chicken, fried
or baked chicken are also favorites.
When entertaining, I use
recipes from The Clay-Pot Cookbook by
Georgia McCloud and Grover Sales. We especially like Lamb Calypso, leg of lamb
cooked in Curacao, orange bitters, dark molasses, mace, cinnamon and allspice.
It is a pungent West Indian recipe served with brown rice and fresh steamed
vegetables with feta cheese. The clay-pot cooking needs no basting. Put it in
and take it out.
The Williams-Sonoma Chicken cookbook also provides many
different and interesting ways to cook chicken. We also love fish, mostly fresh
salmon as it has the most strong and distinctive flavor. I make it with an onion,
lemon, butter and caper sauce. We also love K-Paul’s seafood spices and we
enjoy snapper or other fish fried with K-Paul’s spice. We love pastas with clam
sauce, tomato sauce and especially basil pesto.
We eat well. Ann is more
health conscious than I. I still enjoy a good steak once in a while. On the
whole we are compatible in our diets and tastes. I love reading the food pages
in the newspapers, I can’t stand the TV cooking shows. I’d rather cook and eat
than watch cooking and then commercials.
We love to entertain. It is
my favorite entertainment-drinking, talking, eating and sharing our lives with
others. It beats the movies and TV for enjoyment and pleasure.
RWC
