Geo wrote:Wow, what a trip home this thread is! Who says you can't go home again?

I heartily agree, Geo, this is a terrific thread!
John Thorne has a memorable account of meal you reference in the chapter entitled "Spring" in
Simple Cooking(1987), however, in looking it up, I see that although the recipe involves red meat, mushrooms and onions, it is the young woman making Steak Subs (not Stroganoff) for the young man (Mr. Thorne himself).
For another retro treat by Thorne that fits into the spirit of this thread, I recommend the chapter, "Conflicted about Casseroles" from
Mouth Wide Open (2007) Thorne takes issue with Jim Villas, author of
Crazy for Casseroles: 275 All-American Hot Dish Classics who seems to suggest "that there is a happy middle ground between the boobs [those happy to make a casserole of any number of canned soups, and leftover or packaged ingredients] and the snobs [those who eschew all but the purest and best scratch ingredients], a place where reasonable folks-him, you, me- can stand tall." (p. 127 - my clarifications in brackets). Thorne dispatches this line of reasoning as follows:
"It's nice enough sentiment, sure, but it seems to me to lure the reader out onto awfully thin ice. It's like saying that beanbag furniture and lava lamps are okay, but not, heaven forbid, plaster gnomes and fake pine paneling." I'm wondering if anyone has thoughts on this. What are your culinary bean bags and lava lamps, your culinary gnomes and pine paneling? For gnome, I'm going to nominate the dish most often made for me by my college boyfriend, who had a serious hippie streak that found its way into a carrot, potato and onion curry heavily sweetened with orange marmalade and served over brown rice. It was the culinary equivalent of a huge macrame plant holder - hideous. It once made French student dinner guests flee our apartment, faking illness, a ruse I later uncovered. Worse still was another curry that made me break a lease promised to prospective roommates: a vile peanut butter and ketchup concoction served over bananas, apples and brown rice. I am honestly stumped to come up with a decorative equivalent - even Elvis's shag-carpeted ceiling at Graceland does not come close- it was perhaps the worst dish I have ever eaten. And I love curry.
Man : I can't understand how a poet like you can eat that stuff.
T. S. Eliot: Ah, but you're not a poet.