Simple. Make lunch for them.
I suppose that would make sense if you’re Julia Child or Graham Kerr. In this case, the author is comedy supporting actor Carl Reiner.
He did one of those interviews that ends with some “favourite” recipes (it’s questionable whether some of the interviewees have ever seen the recipe attached to their name). It appeared in newspapers on March 29, 1958. But before that, we’ll look at Reiner’s early career as he was just getting going with Sid Caesar. It’s from the Detroit Free Press of August 9, 1953.
The Rise of Reiner: From Grease to Grins
"I started at $12 a week and, through my own ingenuity, hard work and perseverance I ended by making $8 a week," says Carl Reiner, now on ABC-TV's The Name's the Same and featured on Your Show of Shows on NBC-TV. Reiner wasn't talking about his career in show business.
Carl Reiner was born in the Bronx, March 20, 1922. He was graduated at 16 from Evander Childs High School, and went to work as a shipping clerk in New York's garment district.
That's when he made his meteoric "rise" in the business world, from $12 to $8 a week. The $8 job was as a machinist's helper in a shop which made millinery equipment.
"I used to take off a half-hour early, because I was going to a dramatic school. I never seemed to get all the grease off my hands."
AFTER EIGHT months of drama school, he played in a little theater group. "We played every night," he says. “It was terrific experience, but I wasn't getting any money for it. Nobody else in the troupe was, either. But I got uppity one day—after all, the audience paid admission—and demanded to be paid.
"They offered me $1 a performance, and I was satisfied."
THE FOLLOWING summer Reiner played stock in Rochester, N. Y., for room and board.
Between times he appeared in National Youth Administration programs on a New York radio station, and one summer he appeared in a revue at a Catskill Mountain (N. Y.) resort.
IN 1942, Reiner went into the Army, studied French, was awarded a diploma as a qualified interpreter and then was sent to Hawaii as a teletype operator.
When Maj. Maurice Evans arrived in Hawaii, Reiner auditioned for him, using routines he had perfected at Army recreation halls in the States, and then toured the South Pacific for a year and a half in revues which he wrote.
After his discharge from the Army, he wore out considerable shoe leather on Broadway before he landed a part. Later he was in a Broadway musical on which Max Liebman, producer-director of Your Show of Shows, did considerable work.
IN 1950 Liebman hired Reiner as a character and comedy actor and emcee for NBC-TV’s Saturday show.
Except for baseball, for which he has an almost pathological affection, Reiner has no hobbies.
“When I was a kid,” he says, "I wanted to be a big-league pitcher. When I go to a game today I put myself in the role of the pitcher. Boy, can I act it up!" Reiner is married to the former Estelle Lebost, an artist. They live—with their two children, Robbie, 6, and Sylvia Anne, 4—in an apartment in New York! "The Bronx!" Reiner says proudly.
Carl Reiner Doesn't Waste Any Time;
He Acts, Writes and is Quite a Chef
By MARGARET McMANUS
NEW YORK—Once there was man who came to dinner and he bad such an elegant time that he stayed on and on. In fact, he lingered so long on the premises that they finally wrote a play about him.
Then there is the man who came to our apartment to cook lunch for our children. This guy didn't even stay long enough to help with the dishes, he bolted before the coffee was cool in the cup.
Now I'm sure as I can be that the children had nothing to do with this. Absolutely nothing. After all, he’s a family man himself. As he will be the first to tell you, some of his best friends are children.
Carl Reiner is a man of considerable, versatile talents. As the second banana to Sid Caesar for the past four years, he currently appears with Caesar and Imogene Coca on "Sid Caesar Invites You,” 9 p.m. Sundays on ABC-TV.
He is also the author of a new novel, his first, "Enter Laughing," which was published last month. He is also an amateur chef who bows to no man in accomplishments with omelets.
The poet who runs the press department of the American Broadcasting Company came up with the lyrical suggestion that Reiner, the chef, who has nothing better to do on his day off, come up one fine Spring day and cook lunch for Mary, who is almost five, and 5ean, who is three. Both, of course, are gourmets.
Reiner arrived, the guest perfect. Not only did he come prepared to cook, but he brought his own groceries.
A tall, genial, black-haired man, 38 years old, apparently at ease in anybody's kitchen, he put his bundles on the counter, explained that he needed no protection for his well-tailored dark-blue suit.
"One of the first things a good cook learns is that you must be very neat while cooking,” he said. "An apron is unnecessary. It's such bad form to be messy.” Mr. Reiner unpacked his supplies: eggs; a small potted plant which turned out to be herbs; a bunch of parsley; sour cream; red caviar: and a jar of rosemary leaves. Such a pretty name to be edible.
He looked past the copper-bottom skillet, polished for his coming, which stood waiting on the stove and poked about among the pots and pans in the cupboard.
WHAT, NO OMELET PAN!
“I suppose you don’t have an omelet pan," he said finally, with wistful courtesy. He was right. We don’t. "An omelet pan is quite important if you want to get absolutely perfect results," he said. "I should have brought mine along. You never wash an omelet pan, you know. You just wipe it out and hang it up. It isn't unsanitary becauae the minute you put a fire under it, the fire kills any germs."
I told him maybe I'd ask for an omelet pan for Christmas. It sounds like one of those luxurious necessities vou're supposed to get from Santa Claus, like a gold car key or a sterling silver telephone dialer.
"Another important thing about omelets," the dedicated Mr. Reiner explained, "is that you never, never mix milk with the eggs. If you want a really light omelet, you beat the eggs with water.”
The world should know that Carl Reiner is an orderly, systematic chef. He fines up his provisions with care, works with the deft, precise motions of the professional, talks as he works, dispite distractions.
My only contribution was to hand him the plates at the moment tor dishing up, and then bolt for the dining room to be served. As soon as the children were anchored to their seats, Reiner served them with the suave flourish of the maitre d'hotel at "21."
He then stood behind waited, as artists are wont to do, for a little respectful appreciation.
DISDAINFUL PATRONS
Mary looked at her plate, and to be specific, what she said was: "I don't want eggs for lunch. I had eggs for breakfast. I want a peanut butter sandwich.”
Personally, I think her attitude was infinitely kinder than Sean’s. He said: “I want a boiled egg, Mom.”Mary attempted graciousness. She took a taste of the sour cream, topped with red caviar, and she made a most distressing face. It’s only a guess, but I think she was expecting a taste similar to vanilla ice cream and marashino cherries.
“I don't like those berries," said my innocent child. “That ice cream's sour.”
Later, after the children had finished their peanut butter sandwiches and apple sauce, Mr. Reiner and I finished the four omelets and the parsley and the sour cream. Even chilled, the omelet was delicious, worthy of a master. And the chef, the father of an 11-year-old boy, Robby, and a 9-year-old daughter, Sylvia Anne, was quite understanding.
"Look," he said philosophically "you can lead yhem to the table, but can you make them eat?
Not super-sensitive by nature, Reiner was in such an elated mood about the Sunday night television show, and the publication of his book, that two unappreciative, nonco-operative children couldn't make a dent in his composure.
GRATIFIED OVER HIS BOOK
"I tell you the truth,” he said, “getting this book published is about the most gratifying thing that ever happened to me. It's been much more exciting than the television show has ever been. A lot of people contribute to the success of the television show, but this book is just between me and the typewriter.” He wrote "Enter Laughing" during this Summer holiday last year.
The Reiners, who live in New Rochelle, in Westchester County, N. Y., also have a Summer house on Fire Island where they go during the months the television show is not on the air.
"I used to spend all my time in the summers with the kids," he said. "Now they're a little bigger and have their own friends. They don't want me hanging around all the time. Last Summer I had some time to spare, so I wrote. Now that I know I can do it, I can hardly wait for Summer to try again.”
Carl Reiner, author and chef, did one other small piece of writing before he left to take his son bowling. He wrote out his two favorite recipes, guaranteed to make you a more successful dinner hostess than Elsie herself.
TWO OF HIS FAVORITE RECIPES
Try them at your own risk. They read so well you may get the man who came to dinner. They you'll wish you had stuck with peanut butter sandwiches.
FILET OF SOLE NAVOROFF
Chop pound fresh salmon. Add white of one egg, 1 tablespoon cream, teaspoon salt and fresh pepper. (You can add chopped parsley or chive.)
Make pockets in filets. Fill with salmon mixture.
Poach fish in 1/4 cup sauterne, ¼ cup water, 1 bay leaf and a few peppercorns. (Put wax paper under cover of pot.) Put in medium oven (350°) for 15 minutes. Serve with sauce.
SAUCE FOR FISH
Blend 2 tablespoons flour and 2 tablespoons butter. Add ½ cup milk and 1/2 cup fish stock (from above). Bring to a boil, stirring constantly. Add 2 tablespoons sweet cream when done.
STUFFED VEAL CHOP
Make pocket incision in loin veal chop (one-inch thick chop) and stuff with stuffing (see below). Brown chops in brown butter on high flame. Cover and cook on low flame 20 minutes, till done. Add ¼ cup flaming sherry.
STUFFING
Saute 1 chopped medium onion in ½ bar butter. Add 3 stalks finely chopped celery and saute a few minutes longer. Add croutons which have been dried out in oven (1 slice bread per chop). Add salt and pepper and stuff chops.
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