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After Thursday night and Friday night and Saturday night at the grill with meat, meat, meat, I was feeling kind of carnivored-out yesterday evening. I needed to go vegetarian or pescatarian in the worst way, and there were two things I was craving: Lamprie, a Sri Lankan dish that, although can be made meaty, to my mind is best consumed without it. The dish’s base is basmati rice, but in neat little piles on top come caramelized onions and eggplant, jackfruit, cashews, green beans, and a crunchy lentil cake, all wrapped and steamed in a banana leaf. Crazy, right? And so good. I cannot begin to express to you how fun it is to unwrap that leaf and behold all the delicious surprises within, and I swear I’m going to find you (and me) a recipe for this.
So that was lunch, at my favorite Sri Lankan spot. Dinner, though, I wanted to do in. We had a friend coming over who’s partial to gin-and-lime cocktails, and I was trying to think of what would be a nice follow up—and then I remembered one of my favorite, easy recipes from The New Basics Cookbook, published in 1989. Like anything conceived in the Now, whenever that now happens to be, and manages to go the distance, the name has become kind of ironic. After all, what was thought up as new twists on old favorites in the 80s is, well, now 20-plus years old. Do you know what I was wearing in 1989? Oh, I think you can guess: Put on the Cure or a little REM, proclaim how utterly misunderstood you are, start with a pair of Doc Martins, and work your way up. The funny thing is, I didn’t even buy this book until about five or six years ago when my good friend Cynthia made me an amazing, unforgettable scallop dish for dinner one night. But while you won’t find me falling prey to leggings and stompy shoes of yesteryear, I do still dig The New Basics, and that lime-y, gingery scallop dish was just what I was craving last night.
A couple of years ago on a milestone birthday, I was poking around an antique cookbook store here in NYC looking for something special to mark the occasion. A first edition of How to Cook a Wolf did the trick, but I also came across a little demitasse cup, hand-painted with gold letters that spelled out the words, “Remember Me.” I bought it along with that treasured book without a moment’s hesitation. I can’t speak for all writers, but I can say that along with a driving, insatiable need to express things with words on pages (or, at times these days, on screens), to say that looming mortality isn’t a factor that drives a person in this job would be a lie. Part of writing is proclaiming, “I’m here! I’m here! Remember me…” before a lonely epitaph is what’s left. It’s ensuring you get to write your own, really.
Sheila Lukins, co-author of The New Basics (as well as her and Julee Rosso’s other timeless tome, The Silver Palate Cookbook), passed away just about a year ago. Last night, my friend and my husband and I mmm’d our way through Lime Ginger Scallop Saute over jasmine rice, the sounds of forks clinking and laughter and conversation drifting into the warm summer night, alive and happy, embracing a simple summer moment together. An old basic, really—friends, family, conversation, food—but like Rosso and Lukins’ recipes, one that never feels dated, and whose permanence, however permanent we may be, matters so very much.
Do you have any old standby cookbooks whose recipes continue to feel modern?
Lime Ginger Scallop Saute
(serves 2)
- 1 TBSP olive oil
- 1 TBSP unsalted butter
- 1 lb sea scallops, patted dry
- 3 TBSP fresh lime juice
- 4 TBSP Lime Ginger Butter*, chilled
- 1/3 cup walnut halves, lightly toasted
- Chopped fresh parsley, for garnish
Heat the oil and butter in a large skillet over high heat. Add the scallops and stir until golden, about 2 minutes. Pour off the fat.
Stir in lime juice and cook 1 minute. Then lower the heat and stir in the Lime Ginger Butter, 1 tablespoon at a time. Cook just until a thick sauce forms. Stir in the walnuts, sprinkle with parsley, and serve.
*Lime Ginger Butter
- 4 TBSP (1/2 stick) unsalted butter, at room temperature
- 2 tsp grated lime zest
- 1 tsp ground ginger
- 1/2 tsp salt
- Freshly ground pepper to taste
Stir all ingredients together in a small bowl until smooth. Shape in a cylinder 2 1/2 inches in diameter, and wrap in foil or plastic wrap. Refrigerate until firm, about 1 hour.
Amy Zavatto has been writing about wine, spirits, and food for ten years. Her work appears in Imbibe, Gotham, and Every Day with Rachael Ray, among others. She is the author of The Complete Idiot's Guide to Bartending and the co-author of The Renaissance Guide to Wine & Food Pairing.
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Well I like to pull out a 50tys copy of "Mrs. Beatons" every winter holiday, excellent for game recipes. I do in the summer trot out the older southern summer recipes for desserts and sides. Nothing like surprising people with a colorful Ambrosia or two. Mom gives me all the end of the year "Southern Living" recipe collections she finds. The 1962 is priceless for recipes no one has seen in decades but remembers with extreme fondness.
Is that fresh Jackfruit or..?
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I believe it's fresh (certainly not the dried version), but it's cooked in a stewy way, so I suppose it could be canned. We have a really large Sri Lankan population here, though, and there's enough demand where fresh would probably not be out of the question. It's the only way I've eaten jack fruit, though, so there's no point of reference beyond this. I'm going with fresh, but I'll ask them next time I get a hankering.
Some nice, cold ambrosia would be kinda nice right about now!
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Yeah all I can find in my area, by way of Asian store is canned with syrup so.... and then it well taste likes Justy Fruit gum. In fact I think it used to be Jack Fruit gum till someone decided to change the name. Yes please ask, I'm curious.
Summer yes; watermelons and ambrosia. Doesn't feel like a happy summer without them.
