OMG a Recipe: It's a Mad Mad Mad Men World

I've been feeling the nostalgic vibe of late, especially after receiving a funky old Campbell Cookbook: Cooking With Soup cookbook from a friend who knows I love kitschy stuff like that. It goes nicely with my Philadelphia Cream Cheese cookbook, spiral ring-binding and all. Appropriately enough, the equally vintage AMC series Mad Men is kicking off its effing-finally-it-took-you-long-enough 5th season. To celebrate the return of the martini-swilling chain-smoking prodigal son, I thought I'd hazard a sampling of what the 1950s and 60s era cuisine tasted like, and cook something from the book that looked like it would have sat on Betty Draper's shelf, before things went off the rails.

Now you're cooking with nostalgia! - Photo by Wasabi Prime

These old cookbooks, much like an early episode of Mad Men, circa season 1, can be quite a hoot. Where else are you going to read about the four food groups, where the Milk Group includes a serving of cubes of "Cheddar-type cheese?" A time when capers were considered "crafty," there's dishes called "Spunky Ham Bowl" or "Cock-a-Leekie Soup" without a trace of self-awareness, and you could still get away with calling a dish "Oriental" as long as there's some soy sauce in it. Ah, those were the good old days. It's no wonder they were all raging alcoholics who drank their way through lunches to get through the day.

I found what could best be called a pantry straggler -- a lone can of chicken and rice soup sitting upon our shelf. Luckily it wasn't one of the newfangled line of Campbell's soups, so I could reference a recipe in the cookbook  using this soup flavor. Granted, my can o' soup was using wild rice, which I'm sure would have been considered too exotic for the post-Baby Boomer era, but even in its original white rice form, it wouldn't have changed much with the recipe I decided to use. Simply named Greek Lemon Soup, on page 163, the dish was just that: one can of condensed chicken with rice soup, water, 1 egg, lemon juice, nutmeg and butter. They dress it up a little by describing the soup as being called "Soup Avgolemono" to the Greeks, which means just that, egg-lemon soup or sauce.

Betty is DONE with being your haus frau - Photos by Wasabi Prime, Mad Men pic from AMC

Even the newly-singletoned Stepford-drone, Betty, would appreciate this soup, as it can be made for a serving of one, with minimal ingredients that are likely hanging around a forlorn-looking refrigerator and pantry. You basically heat the soup to the can's directions, and whisking the egg with the lemon juice in a separate bowl, you temper the egg and lemon mixture before incorporating it slowly into the soup, but off the direct heat, so the egg doesn't curdle. You're lightly cooking the egg in the soup, constantly whisking so that it just emulsifies and gives the soup a rich, surprisingly silky texture. I was actually -- gasp -- pleasantly surprised with what gently adding the egg to the soup would do for its consistency. The lemon juice brightened the flavor, which does any canned product some good, and the nutmeg just made it a little more interesting. What isn't interesting is the final result: Bland, Boring City. Even Don Draper would choose a different kind of liquid lunch before sucking down this snooze-worthy broth.

Option B... for Booze - food photos by Wasabi Prime, Mad Men pic from AMC

Not very exciting-looking, I know. So I drizzled a little olive oil and added some fresh-cracked pepper as these would have been ingredients hanging about a Mad Men-era household, and something they would have thought to add to the soup anyways: Voila! Slightly less Bland-Boring-City.

A little better. But a dry martini would make it perfect - Photo by Wasabi Prime

I had my vintage-era soup and then capped the day off early by signing off around three to start swilling cocktails and exercising poor decision-making skills that would make the fellas at Sterling Cooper proud. Perhaps later I'll have enough liquid courage in me to give recipes like "Curried Crax" a try, or figure out just what the hell a "Mulligatawny" is.

OMG a Recipe: Wouldn't It Be Lemon Lavender Loverly?

I admit, despite my love of breezy cool autumn days, there's nothing like the summer harvest of fresh goods like fragrant lavender. I was lucky to have a lion's share of fresh lavender and my summer-long obsession with homemade ice cream continued, with the creation of a Lemon Lavender Loverly Ice Cream!

I need to make this again, it's so freakin' good - Photo by Wasabi Prime

So I might break into song now and then, grumbling over why can't the English learn how to speak, or perhaps how the rain in Spain stays mainly on the plain, but no worries, my singing will of course be dubbed by the beautiful voice of Marni Nixon, so all will be well. But this ice cream was so wouldn't-it-be-loverly, I just had to share it with an OMG a Recipe post. And if you didn't get any of those My Fair Lady references, take a break from your reality TV world and watch a classic film now and then that hasn't been remade, reduxed or rebooted.

There's no Pygmalion-esque transformation needed for fresh lavender. It's right-purdy all on its own and a huge bundle of freshly picked lavender can be such a windfall for cooking and household uses. A few days laying flat and separated should give fresh lavender a proper dry. The tricksy-Hobbit deed of separating the fragrant little purple blooms from the tough stem is a bit of a conundrum, but leave it to Green Thumb Goddess, blogger South Sound Garden, to not only provide the lavender -- of which I'm very thankful for -- but the suggestion to use the little metal loop of a wooden clothespin to act as a tool to strip the blooms cleanly from the stalk. Genius! Even more thankful for that tip, as I think I would have rubbed off all the skin on my fingers trying to pull the blooms off with my bare hands, plus it made quick work of the bundle. Clothespins to the rescue, yet again.

Lavender is one of those tricky ingredients where a liberal hand means whatever you're making will taste like soap and that's not good. So tread lightly, heavy-handed seasoners! The best way to control the lavender taste in ice cream is to first make a simple syrup infused with the dried lavender. It also gives you a chance to strain out the little bits, so all you have is a sweet, floral syrup that you can add to other things like cocktails or plain seltzer for a fragrant homemade soda. I say "you can use it in other things" because you will have extra, so get an old timey lavender soda shoppe in the works and start growing out that old timey moustache with the curly edges, if you're able. It's fetching. No, really, it is.

Lavender Simple Syrup
2 cups sugar
2 cups water
1/4 cup dried lavender buds

Bring water to a simmer, add sugar and melt down. Let liquid reduce for a few minutes and add in lavender towards the end. Remove from heat and let mixture steep until syrup cools before straining lavender from liquid. Store in an airtight jar.

Loverly Lemon Lavender Ice Cream
3 cups heavy cream (or half and half)
1/2 cup sugar
1/4 cup lavender simple syrup
4 whole eggs at room temperature
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 rind of a whole lemon

Bring the cream to a low simmer and stir in the sugar. Stir until fully melted. Add the lemon rind to let the citrus flavor steep in the cream. Check the temperature of the liquid to make sure it's at 170-180 degrees before adding the eggs -- temper the eggs, by adding a little of the hot liquid to the eggs and warming them before adding them into the cream mixture. Whisk vigorously as the eggs are incorporated, to ensure they don't clump. Double check the temperature of the custard to make sure it's 180 degrees for food safe reasons and then turn off the heat. Whisk in the lavender simple syrup and vanilla extract while the mixture is still warm. Strain the custard into a separate bowl to remove any clumps and the lemon rind, and let it chill in the refrigerator before churning it in your ice cream maker.

As you're churning the ice cream, it's pretty to add a few little sprinkles of lavender buds for color, but it's fine to leave it out, as the texture can be a little chewy. The lightly sweet lemon flavor is nice with the fragrant lavender, and it's even nicer with some buttery shortbread -- the ones in the photos were from Wasabi Mom!

Fragrant sweet dreams of summer! - Photos by Wasabi Prime