Chief Banks' Stroganoff

When my Dad achieved the rank of rear admiral, the Navy immediately sent him to Argentia, Newfoundland to shrink his ego back down to manageable size. Argentia was considered a hardship post but we have rarely had such a happy family situation as we did there.

Yes, the weather sucked big time but our quarters on the naval station were large enough that my sister and I no longer had to share a bedroom, a cause for mutual celebration. 


 The house was furnished; we didn't have to take our furniture along. The living room furniture was truly luxurious, nearly every stick of it covered in slippery damask in a rainbow of pastel colors, so funky it almost seemed like the decorator had a sense of humor. 


Dad had a den upholstered entirely in red - as I recall even the walls were red - we'd gather in there in the evening to watch the news and, once a week, the Huckleberry Hound show was on the snowy, fuzzy single black and white TV station. We never missed it - my usually gregarious family would even refuse social invitations on Huckleberry Hound night or invite others to join us to laugh at the antics of Yogi Bear, Boo-Boo and Huck.


We all learned how to bowl, as it was a sport that could be enjoyed indoors, and we spent many happy family hours at the bowling alley. There was a terrific and active teen club on base where my sister and I learned to dance and flirt.  


Best of all, Dad finally rated a steward.

Stewards, in those days, did everything from keeping Dad's uniforms in great shape to cleaning house and preparing meals. They are the ultimate perq, in my mother's estimation, although she still insisted that her children clean their own rooms and do their own laundry.

Our first-ever steward was a young, gentle, African American man named Benjamin Banks. Just typing his name fills my eyes with fond tears. He was more than heaven-sent household help - in four separate duty stations, he was a member of our family. In some ways, he was as much of a male role model to myself and my younger brother as our Dad was in those days. He dried my adolescent tears when I lost my first love and danced at my wedding when I finally started to live again. He vetted all my boyfriends and let me know which ones he considered to be keepers. He even re-enlisted in the Navy in order to stay with our family until Dad retired, attaining the rank of Chief early in his career.

Chief Banks and his wife Elizabeth had a true love match. 'Way back in Argentia, he showed me the love poem he wrote to her and had printed on a little blue card to carry with him always. I had never heard of anything so romantic in my life - I still haven't. When we were stationed in Japan, he and Elizabeth adopted a little girl from Korea, Kwan, who rapidly wrapped us all around her tiny fingers.

Chief Banks was a wonderful cook. He made me "smashed eggs" most mornings - scrambled eggs with real bacon bits mixed in. He invented a wonderful cold curried rice salad with lobster, pineapple, raisins and celery. He even prepared his signature beef stroganoff for me to serve at an early dinner for my soon-to-be-fiancé and let me pretend I made it; needless to say, it was a successful dinner. Talk about bait and switch!

I still make this dish to his recipe, even though the ingredients are a little rich for modern cooking and quite expensive. But, every now and then, I like to sit down to a plate of Chief Banks' stroganoff and remember all the lovely things he was to me and my family.

Chief Banks' Beef Stroganoff

2 lbs. filet of beef, cut into 1/2" thick bite-size strips
1 cup chopped onion
1 clove minced garlic
2 cups beef bouillon
1-1/2 cups sour cream
1/2 lb. fresh mushrooms, sliced
2 bay leaves
1/4 tsp. dill weed (I use more)
2 Tbs. butter
3 Tbs. flour
1/4 cup dry red wine
salt, pepper to taste

Heat 2 Tbs butter in a frying pan, add just enough beef strips at a time to cover the skillet bottom. Don't crowd them or they won't brown properly. Sear quickly on all sides, removing beef as it browns. It should be rare on the inside, brown on the outside. In the remaining hot butter, saute' onions, garlic and mushrooms about 5 minutes (I do the mushrooms separately first, then add the onions and garlic). Remove from heat, add flour, salt and pepper, stirring until smooth. Back on the heat, cook the flour mixture briefly before gradually adding the beef stock, bring to a boil and keep stirring as the sauce thickens. Reduce heat and simmer 5 minutes.

Over low heat, add 1/4 cup dry red wine, dill weed, bay leaves and simmer for a few minutes. To this point, it can be made ahead and will wait for the finishing touches, covered. Then, add sour cream and stir until incorporated - don't boil! When you are ready to serve, add the beef and heat just until the sauce and beef are hot. Serve over rice or flat noodles.

Bakin' Bacon

Chief Banks passed away last week. He was a chief steward in the Navy when he retired to a long, happy after-Navy life with his beloved wife, Elizabeth, but we met him when my Dad was a brand new admiral and Chief Banks was a Seaman Third Class. We were stationed in Argentia, Newfoundland. He was green as grass, newly married, young, earnest and baffled by having been sent from his home in warm Virginia to cold Newfoundland to serve in the admiral's quarters.

I was twelve. Chief Banks helped to raise me. He was with our family, on and off, for twelve more years. He saw me off on dates, gently scolded me when I sassed my mother (those were sassy years, I'm afraid), gave me good advice about boys, and even recognized my first husband before I did. He told me later that as soon as he met Jim, he thought, "That's the one she will marry." He came to my wedding but gently refused to come to the reception in the Officers Club - despite my urging, he said it wouldn't be fitting.

When, after many years of trying, Chief Banks and his wife realized that they would never have children of their own, they flew to Korea to adopt a little girl of about two - no one knew exactly how old she was. Kwon was the sweetest child ever. At the orphanage, they warned Ben and Elizabeth never to take food away from her as she had had to compete for it in the orphanage; but within two weeks, she was offering us all food from her plate. She knew she was safe and loved. For those few years, she became like a baby sister to me - her little hand offered trustingly just melted my heart.

One day, I arrived in the kitchen in Japan, where we were stationed at the time, to find Chief Banks lifting out of the oven a big pan of bacon. Bacon? In the oven? I didn't know one could bake bacon. He explained that he fried bacon in a pan for our family because that's what we were used to but, for his own family, he baked it. They liked it better that way.

This week, with a heavy heart, I baked a batch of bacon in his honor. That may seem like a paltry way to say goodbye but, for me and Chief Banks, it was fitting.

Hail To The Chief

Yes, Nueske's bacon! We made BLTs but jealously guarded the last two rashers for the next morning when we made Smashed Eggs. Smashed eggs are gently, gently scrambled eggs, patiently stirred over a low heat until they curdle moistly around the bacon bits that were heated in the same pan before adding the eggs.

Don't ask me why, but this tastes better than plain old bacon-and-eggs, even though they are the same ingredients. It makes no earthly sense but it is sublimely true.

I learned this trick from a Chief in the Navy, Ben Banks, who taught me how to make these. He taught me by example many other more important things - to take pride in simple tasks, to accept life's hard times with grace, to turn even adversity into joy - and I will always love and remember him for those life lessons. But the one that brings his smiling face to mind every time I make it is Smashed Eggs.

Thanks, Chief Banks.