‘Patio Daddy-O’ Resurrects ‘50s Food

Say what you will about the 1950s, food was simpler then.

Mom had her secret recipe for potato salad or great brownies. And, if the meal was being cooked outdoors, it was a given that dad would man the grill.

Karen Brooks and Gideon Bosker both remember the ‘50s as a great time to be a kid, as you can tell from their new cookbook, “Patio Daddy-O” (Chronicle Books, $12.95).

It’s filled with images of the era: aprons, salt-and-pepper shakers, magazine illustrations and advertising art. Even in the illustration of Elsie the Cow and her family, it’s Elmer at the grill (but what are those hamburgers made of?).

“After all, patio cooking was, for the man of the house, an act of profound symbolic importance,” Bosker writes in the introduction. “If bringing home the paycheck was a rather abstract exercise in family sustenance, then hands-on preparation of the patio meal was a concrete display of the father’s biological role as provider. And he made the best of it.”

The food in “Patio Daddy-O” evokes the ‘50s but is updated for the ‘90s, as you might expect when one of the authors is a restaurant critic for the Oregonian.

“I’ve been a critic since 1979, and I just feel like I’ve watched all the trends come and go,” Brooks says. “If I never see a hamburger on focaccia bread again, I would be a very happy person.”

“Patio Daddy-O” is definitely a focaccia-free zone. There’s also no goat cheese or sun-dried tomatoes in sight. Sophisticated though her tastes may be, Brooks loves the food of her childhood and wouldn’t dream of tainting it with trendiness.

Instead, she mainly worked at bumping up the flavors and substituting fresh ingredients for packaged and processed wherever possible. “I’d say the recipes are a blend of real straight-ahead classics and things the way we would make them today,” she says.

They had just as much fun coming up with names for the recipes: the Atomic Cocktail, Slab-O-Fun Barbecued Meat Loaf and The Best Backyard Brownies You Ever Ate.

“And they really are,” Brooks says of the brownies. “That was my mom’s recipe.”

Brooks remembers St. Louis in the ‘50s as a time when “everything had that idyllic glow” - parties that seemed to last all summer, when kids would be out of school and picnic baskets would be packed with food and lugged to the park along with balls, bats and gloves.

“We had all that food: fried chicken, coleslaw, potato salad and big pieces of chocolate cake,” Brooks says. “And of course, my dad standing there flipping burgers and hot dogs.”

There was an innocence about the era, she says, yet an anxiety, and a sense of danger: from the Cold War, the Communist witch hunts and the restless teenagers portrayed in the movies by James Dean, to name just a few unsettling elements.

That built-in tension could be one thing that makes the ‘50s so fascinating to Brooks, 46, and Bosker, 44, a Portland physician, author and self-described “connoisseur of popular culture.”

Both collect snow domes and salt-and-pepper shakers. They have the same type of ‘50s dining set. He collects vintage ‘50s fabrics; she has what she calls Atomic Cafe furniture. Their houses are so similar that Brooks calls them “parallel universes.”

They sound like they get along so well that it’s not surprising they were once married, although they no longer are. They work much better as close pals, Brooks says.

For instance, when Bosker called her and said, “Two words: patio daddy-o,” Brooks immediately knew what he was talking about, and food ideas for the book started coming to mind.

In a way, the food is a retro backlash, Brooks says.

“Experimental American cuisine I’m all for, but realistically, few people do it well,” she says. “You get a lot of ‘ongepatshket’ - that’s a Yiddish phrase, meaning everything is just sort of overly mixed up, so many dishes. So I think there’s a hankering for real food.”

Cheesy-Drippin’, Garlic-Fumin’ St. Louis Salad

The authors say what makes this salad special is the dressing, “thick with shreds of Parmesan and ignited by crushed garlic.” They suggest serving it on chilled plates to keep it extra fresh.

1 head well-chilled iceberg lettuce, outer leaves removed, torn into bite-size pieces

1/2 Bermuda (or other mild) onion, cut into thin crosswise slices and slices quartered

1 (6-ounce) jar marinated artichoke hearts, drained and cut into quarters

6 hearts of palm, cut into 1/2-inch-thick crosswise slices (optional)

1 small red bell pepper, seeded, ribbed and thinly sliced, or 1 (6-ounce) jar pimentos, drained and sliced

Dressing:

2 tablespoons balsamic vinegar

1/4 teaspoon stone-ground mustard

1 large garlic clove, crushed

1/2 teaspoon salt

Several grinds of black pepper

6 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil

1/4 cup (1 ounce) freshly grated Parmesan cheese

1/2 cup (2 ounces) freshly grated Parmesan cheese for topping

Arrange lettuce, onion and artichoke hearts in a large serving bowl. Top with hearts of palm (if using) and the sliced red pepper or pimento.

Whisk the vinegar, mustard, garlic, salt and pepper together in a small bowl. Slowly add the oil, whisking constantly, until creamy. Stir in the 1/4 cup Parmesan cheese and blend well.

Toss the salad with the dressing. Scatter the 1/2 cup Parmesan cheese over the top and serve immediately.

Yield: 6 servings.

Nutrition information per serving: 315 calories, 10 grams protein, 34 grams carbohydrates, 18 grams fat (47 percent fat calories), 10 milligrams cholesterol, 468 milligrams sodium.