Breakfast at the Palomino Room

The old Palomino Room in Sacramento was a steak house. They served lunch to local businessmen, and, at night, they produced fine grilled steaks. True, they had other stuff on the menu, but what the regular crowd showed up for were the steaks. Dad liked the lion sized rib steak, grilled rare, with a baked potato on the side – Dad like his slavered with butter and nothing else.

Then, on Sunday mornings, there was something really special.  See, the Palomino Room was closed every Sunday, as used to be traditional in the restaurant industry.  But some Sunday mornings, Harry and Ray and their chef, Nick would be in the restaurant, cleaning things up, making necessary repairs, and preparing for the week to come.

Whether this custom started merely to feed the staff that was in house on Sunday morning or as a thank you to their regular customers, I do not know, but word got around to the regulars that, if they came by on Sunday morning, breakfast would be served. The bar was open, and Mon and Dad usually ordered Ramos Fizzes or Bloody Marys.

The star of the show, however, was the salty and succulent breakfast served up by Nicolas. He got tremendous quality city style hams that he cut into thick, ½” thick steaks, 10” around. He broiled them on the grill until they had crosshatched carbon grill marks, making the ham utterly delicious. As a garnish for the ham, he grilled a slice of fresh pineapple. It was magnificent in its simplicity. He served it with simple, coarsely cut spuds that were buttery and had a hint of onion, and a pair of eggs, cooked to order. In those days, mine were scrambled wet, Mom’s were poached, and Dad’s, over easy.

Early on a Sacramento summer Sunday, it was heaven. I cannot find ham that compares to that in quality and texture, nor can I find the ambition to fire up the Weber at that time of day, but I may try soon.  It will never be the same at home – it will never be the dear old Palomino Room.

The Volcano Combo

When I was a wee lad, as the temperatures headed for the triple digits, my sainted mother would break out the backyard barbecue grill, a decidedly pre-Weber Kettle affair, and she would often serve dinner at a picnic table in our gargantuan back yard. To ease the dense Northern California heat, she would break out a variety of cool beverages, and one of the adult favorites was the Volcano Combo.

She credited its invention variously to a restaurant or a resort located in Volcano, California. Her version of it was, however, her own interpretation, and it was a classic. I remember Sally & Doc, Sully & Eddy, and numerous others sitting in the back yard, deep in grown-up conversation and drinking pitchers of these things. Here is the secret of ice-creamy, boozy deliciousness:

Volcano Combo

Ingredients

·         1 quart, good vanilla ice cream

·         1 pint, Cognac

·         1 pint, Dark Crème de Cacao

·         2 quarts coffee, room temperature

Method

Put all in a big pitcher, allowing the ice cream to get soft and the liquids to get icy cold before serving. Serve in chimney glasses with long straws. Be sure to provide lounge chairs for all.

Canned Salmon

I have come to realize in recent years that I deeply despise canned salmon.

In my sainted mother's pantry, canned salmon was something to be revered. I was allowed, even encouraged, to make lunch out of the tuna, but never, ever, the salmon. It was kept for things like salmon loaf, or, if we were very lucky, mom would make salmon croquettes, which was a summertime treat on the hot afternoon with a pitcher of lemonade and homemade tartar sauce. I still have fond memories of those things!

So, recently, I decided that it would be a good idea to recapture that particular part of my childhood. I found a recipe that was essentially similar to Mom's, and I headed off to the Bel Air for a supply of salmon. I wanted the good stuff, but I was certain that Mom's cans were labeled "Pink Sockeye Salmon", so I shied away from the more expensive cans of "Red Salmon". I went with a respectable national brand, not something I found t the dollar store.

When I got it home, and had my mise en place, en place, I cracked open the can to start the process. 25% of the product in the can was bone and skin. Now, I have read that it is acceptable to devour the smaller bones found in canned salmon, but, frankly, I don't want to. And the skin is just icky.

I was looking forward to a product akin to Bumble Bee Solid Pack White Tuna in Spring Water: clean, salty, faintly flavorless. It is for a recipe that is a product of Midwestern ingenuity, and I did not expect "good" quality salmon, per se, but neither did I expect this chum.

For the next go-round, I plan to buy a bit heavy when getting salmon filets for the grill, and I am going to cook an extra pretty well-done, in order to simulate the doneness of the canned product, and I am going to attempt the croquettes again using that as the base. Report to follow.

Mama's Birthday

My beloved mother, rest her eternal soul, would have been 94 years old today, had she lived to see it. By the time she passed on, she was quite decrepit and her mind had left her. I deeply wish, however, that she had retained her faculties and that she had lived another decade. I miss her very much.