Mom and Dad’s Favorite Drinks

Everyone knows Big Mary can make a mean gimlet. But what you might not know, is that PhatPat can make a damn good Manhattan as well. Both drinks are simple enough and can be served on the rocks. But the Hurns like them best shaken and served up in a martini glass.




Mary’s Vodka Gimlet

(Traditional gimlets, like martinis are made with gin. But Big Mary prefers hers with vodka.)
4 oz Vodka (or more if your martini glass isn’t “chincy”—Mary uses Ketel One or Skyy)
¾ oz Roses lime juice
2 wedges of fresh lime

Shake the vodka and Roses with ice and pour into a chilled martini glass. Garnish with lime. Save the “dirty ice” for adding later if you drink loses its chill.







Pat’s Manhattan

4 oz Whiskey (Pat prefers Seagrams VO Canadian Blended Whiskey)
½ oz sweet vermouth
Dash of cherry juice (This is what makes it special. He swaps the traditional dash of bitters, for something a bit sweeter)
1 maraschino cherry

Shake the whiskey, sweet vermouth, and cherry juice with ice and pour into a chilled martini glass. Drop the cherry to the bottom of the glass. Enjoy.

Rachael Ray's Black Pepper and Fennel Breadsticks

My Mother (Grandma Liz) is one of the great cooks of all time. While she has some old standbys, she always likes to try new recipes. She found a recipe for Black Pepper and Fennel Breadsticks in Rachael Ray Magazine a few months ago. They are fantastic...as the article said, “why wait until the last course to show off your baking skills?”

Black Pepper and Fennel Seed Breadsticks
Rachael Ray Magazine

½ cup lukewarm water
1 ½ tsp. active dry yeast
1 ½ cups flour
1 tsp. salt
2 tsp. pepper
3 tsp. crushed fennel seeds
2 T. olive oil

In a small bowl, combine the water and yeast. Let stand until bubbly, about 5 minutes.
Using a food processor, pulse together the flour, salt, pepper, and fennel seeds until combined.

Whisk the oil onto the yeast mixture, then add to the food processor. Pulse until dough forms a ball, about 30 seconds. Turn out the dough onto a lightly floured surface and knead until smooth and springing, 2 to 3 minutes. Place in an oiled, medium bowl, cover and let rise until puffy and doubled in size, 45 minutes.

Position racks in the upper and lower thirds of the oven and preheat to 350 degrees. Cover 2 baking sheets with parchment or foil. Turn dough out onto a lightly floured work surface and press with your fingers into a 9 x 9 square. Quarter the dough, then cut each piece crosswise into 6 pieces to make a total of 24 pieces. Stretch and roll each piece of dough into a 14 inch bread stick. Place breadsticks lengthwise about 1 1/2 inches apart on the prepared baking sheets.

Bake, switching and rotating the pans halfway through the baking until golden and crisp 20 to 25 minutes. Transfer to rack and let cool.

"Grandma Florence's" Pecan Pie

Looking back on all of my Thanksgivings growing up, a few dishes always come to mind: rutabaga with bacon, sausage stuffing, and green bean salad. But let’s be serious. You can’t have Turkey Day without pie. Every year Grandma Florence makes a pumpkin pie and a pecan pie, which was always my favorite dessert: sticky and crunchy and sweet.



One year while dad was unloading the Oldsmobile, he took the tray of pies—both in glass pie pans—out of the car and accidentally dropped them on the driveway. Thanksgiving ruined! (Ok, not really, but I was really mad not to have my pie).

The funniest part of this story, however, is that after bugging Grandma Florence for the recipe, she said matter-of-factly, “I’ll give it to you, but you know it’s just the recipe from the label of the Karo corn syrup bottle, right?” And the buttery, flaky crust? “Frozen.”



“Grandma Florence’s” Pecan Pie

3 eggs slightly beaten
1 cup of sugar
1 cup light Karo Corn Syrup
2 T. butter melted
1 tsp. vanilla
1 ¼ cup coarsely chopped pecans
1 9 inch unbaked pie crust

Preheat oven to 350. Beat eggs slightly, add sugar, corn syrup, melted butter, and vanilla. Stir until blended. Stir in pecans. Pour into prepared crust.
Bake 50-55 minutes or until knife inserted halfway between center and edge comes out clean. Cool on wire rack.

Grandma Liz's Fried Zucchini

My family misses me a lot now that I live in New York. Of course, I get homesick, too. And while there are many things that New York has that can’t be found anywhere else, my grandmother’s cooking is one thing that can’t be found on the streets of Manhattan.

So my mother has this really cruel thing she likes to do sometimes when we’re chatting. The conversation goes a little something like this:

Little Mary: So what are you guys doing today?

Big Mary: Oh, you know, the grandmas are here. We’re watching the Rays and Grandma Liz is making fried zucchini.



And I just start seeing red. I’ve been known to eat an entire plate of Grandma Liz’s zucchini straight from the pan; risking social humiliation and scalding the roof of my mouth with hot oil. It’s just that good. Before the frying process even begins, she lets garlic and hot chilis sizzle in the oil, infusing it with a peppery kick. Then using a simply seasoned flour and eggs she dips and drops the zucchini into the iron skillet to crisp. A little salt and pepper and you’re done.