How to Make a Classic Timeless

The other day, I was surprised by sappiness.* I was in the middle of doing something I love--picking up and examining every single plant for sale on a large table at my local garden center. I was focused only on the plants. I had forgotten, completely, any troubles held in the world, or in me, personally. I had achieved a meditative, blissful state. I was oblivious to anyone around me, but I was half-listening to the nursery's radio. And so I heard Linda Ronstadt. 

Let me say, fist (with respect): I am not a fan--not of the song "Long, Long Time," and not of Linda Ronstadt, generally. But, without any warning from myself, I burst into tears less than halfway through the song. Maybe it got to me because I had completely forgotten anything that could have upset me, and so wasn't protecting myself from being upset. Maybe it got to me because, every once in a while, the weirdest, sappiest, cheesiest, most-unlikely things get to us. I have no idea why this happened, but whatever the song unleashed was extreme. 

Several hours later, when I was finally done with my crying fit, I complained to some friends. I don't mind that these things happen to me--surprise emotional attacks happen to most, if not all, of us, and often through unlikely triggers. I do mind that I was somehow moved to tears (lots of tears) by this particular song, a sappy relic of a most unfortunate musical era. 

"It's not a bad song, really," opined my friend Pamela. "The problem, as you said, is that overblown 1970s orchestration. I'd like to hear it sung with just an acoustic guitar (kind of like the version of  "The Long and Winding Road" without all the George Martin orchestration, which was Paul's original conception of the song all along)."  Unfortunately, we weren't able to find a satisfying remake of "Long, Long Time." (Anyone know of one? Any musicians want to try one?) 

I believe my comments about the orchestration had been no more than random potshots. Pamela put it all together brilliantly. Some things need to be lifted from their original context and allowed to shine on their own. Or, maybe, some "classics"--ones that are very much a product of their era--need to be freed from the elements that date them, and allowed to become timeless classics, instead.

So it is with some recipes. I can think of a few from the Victorian era--maybe we'll talk about those another week--but, since we've already tripped lightly back a few decades in America, let's start with green bean casserole. This dish originated in the 1950s. I remember eating it in the 70s (and so it's sort-of linked with Linda Ronstadt in my mind). I hated it then, and, when it surprised me** at some too-traditional-for-me Thanksgiving dinners in the early 2000s, I was unable to feel anything more positive about it.

To echo my friend Pamela, it's not a bad dish, really. The problem is the over-processed arrangement of 1950s convenience foods. This is a dish that cries out for a remake, a cover--anything. 

Unlike "Long, Long Time," green bean casserole has been "remade," many times. Over the past twenty years or so, a panoply of fine chefs has made it into gourmet comfort food. I'd like to separate out a few elements: frozen green beans, mushrooms, some sort of dairy (or dairy-like product), crisp-fried onions.

This is not a casserole. I like recipes that cook faster than casseroles usually do. Is it timeless? I don't know. Maybe it counts as an acoustic version.

Green Bean Casserole This Is Not 

 

2-3 tablespoons flavorful olive oil

1 onion, sliced in half lengthwise, then each halk sliced into "half moons"

I package frozen green beans (your choice of cut, "French style," etc.)

1/2-3/4 teaspoon whole cumin seeds

i package fresh mushrooms, sliced thinly

salt and freshly-ground black pepper to taste

freshly squeezed lemon juice, to taste

crumbled feta cheese

optional: toasted chopped walnuts

Madhur Jaffrey offers this method for crisp-fried onions:

 Put the oil in a medium saute pan and set over medium-high heat. When hot, add the onion. Stir and fry, turning the heat down as needed, until the onion is reddish-brown and crisp. Remove the onion with a slotted spoon and spread out on a paper towel.***

 These need to cook for about five more minutes

Empty the green beans into a strainer or colander. Run them under hot tap water until they're no longer frozen. Set aside.

 Add the cumin seeds to the hot oil in the pan (you might need to add a little more oil) and stir them for a second or two. Add the mushrooms and cook until the mushrooms release their water. 

Add the green beans, salt and pepper. Cook for a few minutes. The beans will be cooked much less than they are in traditional green bean casserole; that's part of the point. 

Turn off the heat and add a squeeze of fresh lemon juice. You can either put the onions on top, or stir them in. Top with feta cheese and, if you like, toasted walnuts. 

When green beans are in season, use fresh, not frozen. When it's not green bean season, I find the frozen ones are often better. Frozen, we could say, are more "timeless," in some ways.

*with apologies to C. S. Lewis, who was surprised by joy

**surprised by green bean casserole: worse, and far less cathartic, than surprised by sappiness

***from Madhur Jaffrey's World Vegetarian, p. 61