As a followup to my Eggs Benedict extravaganza, I now dedicate a piece to foods that have delighted me and, more so, to the people who made them for me.  Not unexpectedly, most of these dishes were prepared at one time or another by my spouse of 50-plus years.

But let’s start with a few of my mother’s classics.

Lottie’s Chili

I’m not going to recite recipes, that’s not the point.  Rather, I’m here to share memories and experiences of dishes I enjoyed many times, and my mom’s chili — basic as it was — heads the list.

Lottie’s chili contained ground beef, red kidney beans, canned tomato parts of some kind (which tells you I’m no cook), chili powder, bay leaves (maybe) and — the coup-de-grace — elbow macaroni.  Now, I know that the thought of elbow macs in chili makes some people squirm in their seats, but my mom found a ratio of macaroni to other-chili-stuff that made the dish stand on its own, a very respectable and satisfying dinner.

I also remember that her chili reheated well in the teflon-lined saucepan we owned.

My spouse, to her credit, has tried to replicate Lottie’s chili based on my mom’s notes and my descriptions.  She has at times suggested additions, subtractions and substitutions but by and large she has graciously adhered to the winning formula.  Truth be told, I no longer recall how much macaroni “belongs” in Lottie’s chili — but being my lifelong comfort food, it seems there can never be enough.

Lottie’s Twice-Cooked Pork

Lottie’s pork, a holiday tradition, was one of those “acquired tastes” one might pass off as a kitchen mistake if you didn’t know the dish’s purpose or pedigree.  I’m guessing that Lottie made it thus: bake the pork in a roasting pan until well done; divide the roast into coarse one-inch pieces; spread the pieces on a cookie sheet and douse them liberally (and I mean Bernie Sanders liberally) with salt and pepper; bake/broil until dry and crisp.

The first time I ever had tender pork — and discovered that it could be prepared other than Lottie’s chewy/crispy way — was at a dinner-date at Sue’s house.  After tasting tender pork, I was able to appreciate Lottie’s twice-cooked pork as the old-world delicacy it was.

That said, tender pork roasts from now on, please.

Lottie’s Waldorf Salad/Jello

Wikipedia writes that “Waldorf Salad is a fruit and nut salad generally made of celery, fresh apples, walnuts, and grapes, dressed in mayonnaise, and traditionally served on a bed of lettuce.”  Lottie faithfully incorporated those ingredients but put her own twist on the dish: instead of serving the mix over lettuce, she stirred the fruit and nuts into a glass baking dish filled with fresh-dissolved raspberry Jello and then tucked it in the fridge.

When the Jello had set, Lottie would serve her “Waldorf salad” atop a single lettuce leaf  with a dollop of Miracle Whip on top.  My usual strategy was to scrape off the fake-mayo and head straight for the grape-halves, walnuts and Jello.

Lottie’s Cherry Tarts

If I don’t get a bit more economical in these descriptions, you and I will be here all day.  Well, at least I will.  So here’s the condensed version:

Usually around Christmas, but not exclusive to Christmas, Lottie would lay down a layer of pie-crust dough (probably a Bisquick recipe) on a cookie sheet, then pour a can (or two?) of Thank You cherry pie filling over the base, until it was maybe an inch thick.  She would top this off with another layer of pie-crust, sprinkle some sugar and chopped walnuts on the crust, and then bake ’til golden-brown.

When I was a kid, I could have eaten a whole tray of these at one sitting if my conscience hadn’t stopped me.  Whereas now, the thought of those super-sweet tarts… well, I wouldn’t mind trying one again for old time’s sake.

Sue’s Hummus

It’s time to highlight my spouse’s specialties, starting with her hummus.  Now I don’t know the first thing about hummus except that it involves garbanzos, oil, garlic, lemon and a  Cuisinart.  But there has to be more to it than that, because Sue’s hummus is hands-down the best I’ve ever had in terms of flavor and texture, and both are equally important to me.

This is one of several foods Sue has ruined for me forever, in that eating any other version than hers requires a lowering of my expectations.

Sue’s Linguine with White Clam Sauce

Another dish Sue has likewise ruined for me is linguine with white clam sauce.  She drains the liquid from three cans of chopped clams into a sauté pan, adds butter, olive oil, lemon, and garlic and reduces it all down.  Right before pouring the sauce over the bowl of pasta, she adds chopped parsley from the garden.

What I like most about Sue’s linguine is how the lemon, butter and garlic flavors balance without any one note overwhelming, yet the whole is full of flavor.  And it goes great with buttered baguette slices.  I’ll never order this dish out again.

Sue’s Apple Pie

I could eat Sue’s apple pie any time, any day.  In fact, one fall day long ago when we lived in New York and our family went apple-picking, Sue made pies that afternoon and told the kids they could have pie for dinner — not after dinner, but for dinner.  It was that good.

The next day, our kids couldn’t wait to tell their teachers what they ate for dinner.  When we see the kids at Christmas, I will have to ask them how the subject came up at school.

Apples are apples but Sue’s crust is one-of-a-kind.  I don’t dare try to describe her process, because it even takes her a good ten minutes to explain it to a friendly audience.

Sue’s Dutch Oven Bread

Although Dutch Oven Bread is a more recent addition to Sue’s repertoire, we’ve probably enjoyed it more often than any other item in this list.  The problem is, making the bread is a two-day process: Day One is finding out you’ve run out of bread; Day Two is getting an early start on preparing the dough so it has enough time to rise before the baking begins around dinnertime.

I play a minor part in the bread-making, in that I help convey the Dutch Oven in and out of the 500-degree wall oven, and I help to (carefully) lift the loaf out of the Dutch Oven when the baking is done.

Again, there is nothing like this bread, either for toast or for basic chewy enjoyment.

Dad’s Tuna Noodle

I shouldn’t call this tuna noodle casserole recipe mine, but I think I sort of own it by virtue of having made it so often in my dad years.  Frank Sinatra had a similar relationship with his signature ballad My Way, a French song Paul Anka re-wrote with Mr. Sinatra in mind.  Frank’s song was a classic.  My casserole… well, they ate it up and spit it out.*

My tuna noodle recipe came from Microwave Cookbook from Litton (1981), the kind of recipe book that accompanied every microwave oven ever made, back in the days when microwave oven manufacturers marketed their product to us as a time-saving replacement for conventional ovens — when all we ever asked them to do was reheat yesterday’s coffee.

I somehow held onto that Litton recipe book over the decades, and so that well-worn tuna noodle recipe page survives and is shown below (with my annotations).

The bottom line is, I wouldn’t be without these dishes and I wouldn’t be me without them.

Happy Christmas, friends, and happy memories.

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* “But through it all, when there was doubt / I ate it up and spit it out / I faced it all and I stood tall and did it my way.”