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Romaine lettuce, tomato, green onion, and cucumber glistened on the cutting board. Amy was at the sink, grumbling, as she washed out the salad spinner.
“Whoever used this last didn’t clean it. There are bits of dried salad stuck all over it.”
Sometimes it’s a bumpy road to the perfect salad.
“Dad, how do you make that balsamic vinegar dressing of yours?”
Ah, yes, my favourite oil and vinegar dressing. “Easy,” I said. “First take out a small dish. We start with the good flavours.”
- A clove of garlic, crushed and chopped.
- Fresh oregano and basil, also crushed and chopped. (How I love our little herb garden. In the winter I sprinkle in dried Italian herbs.)
- A bit of freshly ground pepper and a dash of salt. (When I’m being a purist, I throw in a pinch of coarse kosher salt; when I’m not, I shake in some seasoned salt.)
- Dijon mustard – just a bit on the end of a teaspoon. (This is optional, but I like it.)
- Now some oil – olive oil. (I’ll use other oils too. Canola or a blend if I want a milder oil flavour.) And stir it up to blend those flavours.
- OK, now the balsamic vinegar – not too much. Much, much less than the amount of oil. (Here again you could back off the intense flavour of the balsamic vinegar by diluting it with a bit of white vinegar or splash of water.) Stir again to really get those flavours together.
It’s ready now, but if you can let it rest, even a little bit, it’ll be so much better.
Amy was already dipping some freshly-baked crusty bread into the bowl. She popped a crumb into my mouth. Mm-m-m-m.
What’s left? Mix, mix. Toss, toss.
Some mothers are cookie makers. They always have fresh cookies in the cookie jar. Add a glass of milk and you’re in heaven. When I was growing up, my friend up the street had a mother like that. Boy, was his place ever popular with the neighborhood kids.
My mother’s regular sweet specialty was a cake she called “Standart”. (You’ll have to imagine the hard European pronunciation of the word.) I never knew where the name came from. Actually, I never thought about it. All I remember was that it was quick and easy to make, not too sweet, studded with raisins, and always baked in a bundt pan — So yummy with a big glass of cold milk.
It was a household staple that I missed until, one day, sorting through some old cookbooks, I came across an early 1950s Five Roses Flour Guide to Good Cooking. Inside, I found a marked up recipe for standard one-egg cake. Could this be it? (And is that where the name came from?)
I pulled out a mixing bowl, the ingredients, and a bundt pan. An hour or so later I knew I had found the lost secret recipe.
I’ve made it often since and it’s a real family favorite. It comes together quickly in a single bowl and by the time the oven’s reached temperature it’s ready to go in.
You can try it too. Here’s the recipe, right out of the book:
Standard One-egg Cake
1 3/4 cups Five Roses flour
3 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 cup sugar (scant)
1/3 cup shortening
one egg
Flavouring
1 cup sweet milk
I usually just whisk the ingredients together in a single bowl starting with the dry ingredients. (The texture is a little finer if you use an electric mixer, but I like the coarse crumb.) I use a little less sugar than the recipe calls for, and for shortening I use vegetable oil.
“Flavouring” can be almost anything. I usually throw in a handful of raisins and a little lemon zest (usually a squirt of Real Lemon). On occasion, I have grated in half an orange, substituted fruit juice for some of the milk, added nuts with the raisins — it seems happy with almost anything you care to toss in.
Out of tradition, I also use a bundt pan ( it just wouldn’t look right otherwise) and bake it for about 45 minutes to an hour at 375° (325° in our convection oven). If it’s not quite done, I let it go a few minutes longer.
The difficult part is letting it cool down so I don’t burn my fingers when I cut that first slice.
Enjoy!
