My mother, Margaret Somerville Stewart Mathews was born on this day in 1911. That would make this her 99th birthday. She would have loved to have been here for it, especially if there were any kind of party involved. She was a true extrovert. She loved to laugh, dress beautifully, enjoy a cocktail or three, travel far and wide, keep up with a
circle of friends that literally dated from first grade at the Trafalgar School
for Girls. She was full of fun, told
wonderful stories, volunteered for every possible charitable, civic and club activity, took
what life gave her and had an uncanny ability to believe that whatever she had
was the best. She loved life and would have gone on living indefinitely had
cancer not taken her from us at 88 years of age. About the only thing she truly did not like
about life was cooking.
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| My nephew, Michael, Mom and my son, Alex at her 85th Birthday |
Now
this is not to say she didn’t enjoy eating.
She and my father had epicurean appetites and spent a great deal of time
at better restaurants everywhere. Since
we lived in Montreal growing up, there were plenty of opportunities to indulge
their mutual passion for fine food and endless martinis. But for Mother, somehow the joys of the table
never translated into the Joy of Cooking.
So you can imagine her delight when frozen food was introduced and much
of her kitchen labor was reduced to slipping boiling bags into hot water or
firing up the oven and feeding us all TV dinners at every opportunity.
Her
sister, Helen Douglas Stewart Rankin Prescott, on the other hand positively
excelled in the kitchen. She attended
cooking classes given by the doyenne of French Canadian cooking, one Jeanne
Benoit. She was always, almost
reverentially, referred to as Madame Benoit. And Aunt Helen absorbed everything Madame
Benoit taught her. She was particularly
fond of making soup. And I mean soup
from scratch. No College Inn here.
Stocks were prepared using bones hand selected by Aunt Helen. Hours were spent simmering and reducing and tasting
and salting and pureeing. And this was
pre-Cuisinart! My mother’s reaction to all
this activity was succinct: “Why not just open a can?”
I
must admit that my own coming of age in the kitchen came as a kind of an answer
to one of my mother’s horrified response to my divorce. “You’ll never eat again!” she protested. I thought, oh yes I will. And I’ve enjoyed cooking ever since. In fact, I enjoy it so much that it now
consumes the better part of my day.
Between getting Brick Kiln Kitchens LLC up and running and getting
Chewing the Fat written and published, I have become a virtual slave to the
kitchen my mother worked so hard to avoid. And
today, in her honor, I want to share a recipe for that most comforting of
meals, a bowl of soup. In this case, Split
Pea soup. A rich, deeply satisfying soup where the ingredients literally melt in the pot soaking up all the goodness of the Ham bone, becoming one beautiful shade of green. It’s a delicious way to use the
last of a Monte’s HamTM. And in honor of
my Mother, it’s incredibly easy to make.
Recipe for Split Pea
Soup the Monte’s Ham way
1 large white onion diced, about 2 cups.
2 tbsp. Olive Oil, bacon fat or butter.
2 lbs dried Split Peas
1 Monte’s HamTM bone
Kosher Salt and Freshly Ground Pepper
1 cup pancetta in ¼ inch dice, cooked. (Optional)
Sour Cream (Optional)
1.
In a large stock pot or dutch oven, heat the olive
oil, bacon fat or butter over medium heat.
2.
Add the onion and cook it stirring until it is
softened but not browned.
3.
Add the split peas and the Monte’s HamTM
bone. Cover with water until the bone
and the peas are submerged.
4.
Cook for two hours over medium low heat, stirring
occasionally.
5.
Continue to cook until the ham is falling off
the bone, about another half hour.
Season to taste with kosher salt and freshly ground pepper. Remove the
ham bone. (The meat around it is exceptional and the cook should enjoy
it.)
6.




