ENTERTAINING : California Parties--Past and Future : THE FIFTIES

MY PARENTS WERE THE PERFECT RESTAURANT-GOERS: MY FATHER MADE GOOD MONEY AT THE MOVIE STUDIOS AND MY MOTHER COULDN’T COOK.

Thus, beginning in the early 1940s, Irene and Bob Andrews became habitues of most of what were then the best eating places in Los Angeles--among them Romanoff’s, Chasen’s, Scandia (the original one, across the street from its later location), La Rue, the Beverly Hills Brown Derby, the Tail O’ the Cock, and the dining rooms at the Bel-Air and Beverly Hills hotels.

They ate out so often that I’d be tempted to describe them as proto-Foodies, were it not for the fact that, even at the finest restaurants, they ordered their meat well-done, eschewed onions and garlic in every form, and, after cocktails, drank milk with their meals.

If they were the perfect restaurant-goers, though, my parents were also the perfect party-givers--generous, gregarious, naturally hospitable. Perhaps even more than they loved going out to eat, they loved assembling great lots of people at home, 100 or more guests at a time. During and just after World War II--and on into the mid-’50s--they sometimes entertained on this scale as often as once a month. Luckily, they had the room for it.

In 1944, about a year before I was born, my parents moved into a huge, new two-story house, Cape Cod Colonial in style, on Beverly Glen Boulevard, a few blocks north of Sunset. This was celestial territory. Vincent Price lived next door. Claudette Colbert’s property backed onto ours. And behind that was the exclusive Westlake School for Girls (which my younger sister, Merry, later attended for a couple of years, in the same class with the ventriloquist’s daughter, then known as Candy Bergen).

Bandleader Bob Crosby, Bing’s brother, lived across the street from us, on the corner of Saint Pierre Road, in the house my parents had previously occupied. Just up Saint Pierre lived Tyrone Power and his wife, Annabella.

Like most of the residences in the neighborhood, our place was a genuine mansion: It stood on two acres of land, along with a narrow but Olympic-length swimming pool, a tennis court, a shuffleboard court, two 40-foot-high deodar cedar trees, and a terraced hillside, opulent with flora, along which ran a shaded path complete with flagstone love seats.

Inside the house--which my parents had acquired, I cannot resist revealing, for the then-fair market price of about $20,000--were six bedrooms and nine bathrooms (including a maid’s room and bath off the kitchen), formal living and dining rooms, a library, an upstairs rumpus room, a sewing room, and an immense screened-in porch.

But the showpiece--the centerpiece--of the house was what we came to call “the playroom.” The playroom was 90 feet long, and, for at least half its length, as much as 50 feet wide. It was tiled in brown linoleum lightly patterned with what looked like wisps of smoke, and furnished with eight or 10 sofas and settees, six or seven coffee tables and as many area rugs, a couple of dozen chairs of various kinds, three or four card tables, several sideboards, and a big, blond Capehart radio and (78 rpm) record player. On a side wall towards one end was a huge brick fireplace; facing it across the room were three sets of French doors--elegantly simple, California-style doors hung with Venetian blinds, not the froufrou East Coast variety with fluffy valences and eyelet curtains. At the other end of the room were wraparound window seats with candy-stripe upholstery, his-and-hers powder rooms and a large, sunken wet bar complete with bar stools and a foot rail, over which towered a mirrored shelving arrangement full of cocktail glasses in every imaginable shape and color.

It was in this remarkable room that my parents staged their fetes. And I staged mine: My mother was a diligent keeper of scrapbooks, and thus, based on clippings from the society pages of several local newspapers of the time, I am able to report that, by the age of 2, I had myself begun entertaining (as one account put it) “Hollywood’s lollypop ( sic ) and milk-cocktail social set.” The guest list at one of these affairs included the offspring-- mostly with parents attached--of Alfred Hitchcock, Herbert Marshall, Pat O’Brien, producer Ray Stark, and composer Johnny (later John) Green.

It is not my own first parties that I remember most vividly, though--either my powers of observation were not yet sufficiently developed, or I was prematurely blase--but the ones my parents gave. Those I was allowed to attend, at least for an hour or two, almost from the time I could walk upright. Always properly dressed, I was encouraged to make the rounds in the early moments of these events, introducing myself to guests I didn’t know and greeting by name the ones I did. I was allowed to nibble the hors d’oeuvre. Then it would be suggested that it was time to make the rounds again, saying good night, and retire upstairs to bed.

The principle of these parties, as far as I can figure out in retrospect from my memories of attendance, was simple: Invite a good mix of people, and plenty of them. Put everybody together in one big room. Serve simple but tasty food, usually buffet-style to avoid the regimentation implied by sit-down service (and the thankless task of arranging place cards). Pour generous drinks of every conceivable kind (Old Rarity Scotch was more or less our house wine, I seem to recall). And make sure there are at least a couple of songwriters and/or entertainers in the crowd, who can be counted on at some point to sit down at the Steinway grand and dash off a few good-spirited numbers to the delight of the crowd (myself most definitely included).

The mix, I think, was particularly important. Because my father worked in the movie business (as a screenwriter), that milieu was of course always amply represented. My parents’ guest books from the period are a treasure trove of Hollywood autographs--those of the celebrity parents mentioned above, of course (Hitchcock added his trademark pen-and-ink self-profile next to his name), but also of Mary Pickford, Peter Lawford, Robert Walker, Glenn Ford, Dick Powell (I recall that, in greeting guests, I habitually confused Ford and Powell--perhaps because Ford was then married to Eleanor Powell), Ruby Keeler, Van Heflin, Jeanette McDonald, Jeanne Crain, Marie Windsor, Louis Hayward, Joe E. Brown (whose wife Kathryn was my godmother), screenwriters Frances Marion and Seton Miller, directors Jean Negulesco (“The Mask of Dimitrios,” “Johnny Belinda”), Rouben Mamoulian (“Blood and Sand,” “Silk Stockings,” the Fredric March version of “Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde”), and Clarence Brown (“Anna Christie”) and many more.

But these weren’t just show-biz parties. In the same guest books, interspersed among all those movie stars and filmmakers, are a bank president, the owner of an armored-car company, an heir to the Anaconda Copper fortune, a federal district court judge, an ornithological photographer--and, during and just after World War II, scores of soldiers and sailors. (My parents apparently considered that plying Our Boys on Leave with good liquor and introducing them to glamorous actresses was as good a way as any of helping keep up the morale of the U.S. military.) And there are Gloria Vanderbilt (the elder) and her sister, Lady Thelma Furness; surrealist painter Ivan Albright; author Michael Arlen (whose big hit was “The Green Hat” and who signed his address in one guest book simply as “Garrick Club, London W.1”); and, inevitably, a whole carte of restaurateurs, including Mike Romanoff, Maude and Dave Chasen, and Bob and Sally Cobb (of the Brown Derbys).

And those musicians . . . I honestly don’t remember ever having met or listened to Frank Loesser (“Guys and Dolls,” “The Most Happy Fella”), though his name appears in the guest books. I can recall--and sometimes almost sing along with the ghosts of--Harry Richman, the famed top-hat-and-cane vaudevillian who recorded “Puttin’ on the Ritz” and “I Love a Parade”; Gene Austin, whose original 1927 version of “My Blue Heaven” was the best-selling record of all time until Bing Crosby’s “White Christmas” 15 years later; Sam Coslow, author of “My Old Flame” and “Cocktails for Two”; Ben Oakland, composer of “I’ll Take Romance” and “Java Jive”; bandleader Ted Fio Rito; and, maybe most of all, Jimmy McHugh, my sister Merry’s godfather--whose great popular compositions include “The Sunny Side of the Street,” “I Can’t Give You Anything but Love,” “It’s a Most Unusual Day,” and “You’re a Sweetheart”--and his frequent collaborator Harold Adamson.

If music fueled my parents’ parties, though, there was fodder of a more corporeal sort as well. As noted, my mother was not famous for her culinary prowess. She did, however, know how to hire people who were. Thus, the food at our parties was usually supplied by one of my parents’ favorite restaurants--most commonly Scandia (little meatballs, huge platters of exotic Danish sandwiches) or Chasen’s (a whole array of chafing dish specialties, though surely not the restaurant’s famous chili, which wasn’t the kind of thing my parents liked at all)--or by private caterers. I recall watching the arrival of the caterers at our kitchen door, bearing all their tubs and pots and foil-wrapped platters full of food, with awe--as if they were latter-day Magi, visitors from another world, bringing us succulent, fragrant gifts.

The operative words at these buffets--especially during the war years when meat was being rationed--were “canapes” and “casserole.” The canapes were passed on doily-covered silver trays by black-jacketed waiters (supplied by the restaurants) or by young women dressed in old-fashioned maids’ outfits (who worked for the caterers). The casseroles were usually self-service, and used to gush steam like awakening volcanoes when some hungry actor or bank president plunged the first large spoon into them.

I also remember trays of crudites , spoke-like arrangements of finger sandwiches, miniature hamburgers on shiny-topped buns, and occasional whole roast turkeys or baked hams. Boston baked beans--served in wonderful, old, brown ceramic bean pots--were a popular side dish with the hams, as were glass baking dishes plump with au gratin potatoes.

Because food was not, however, the point of these parties--drinking and talking (“socializing”) were--there were no long banquet tables set up; no particular ceremony accompanied the consumption of the victuals. Guests balanced plates on their knees or on the arms of sofas as they congregated in little groups around the room, or pulled folding chairs up to card tables that had been set up. These latter were covered with thick paper tablecloths, usually decorated in accordance with some seasonal theme or astrological period, or else with colorful, “casual” cloth ones--one set (I still have a couple of them) was emblazoned with a splendid cartoon map of California. The plates and glassware of choice were ruby glass--considered very informal at the time, though worth a fortune now. (These, alas, I no longer possess.)

I may recall the particulars of service at my parents’ parties, but I was blissfully unaware of their underlying dynamics--of the grown-up stuff. I’m sure there were flirtations and snubs, incendiary arguments and boring chats, dangerous alliances and tragic disengagements galore in progress under (or rather above, considering my height in those days) my very nose at these affairs. But I doubt I would have cared much even if I had been cognizant of all that must have gone on. All I knew was that when my parents threw a party, our big, cold playroom suddenly grew warm with people, and radiated with the sights and sounds and smells of celebration--and that, even though my participation in the events was usually brief, for the time that I was present, I couldn’t imagine anywhere else on earth I’d rather be.

Following are the kinds of dishes caterers would prepare for my parents’ parties--all of them adapted from or suggested by recipes appearing in cookbooks of the 1940s and early 1950s. A slightly different version of these canapes appears in “The World’s Best Recipes” (Hawthorn, 1955). HAM PUFFS

2 tablespoons butter

1 tomato, peeled, seeded and finely chopped

2 green onions, trimmed and minced

1/2 cup finely chopped baked ham

2 eggs, lightly beaten

Puff Pastry Shells

Freshly grated Parmesan cheese

Melt butter in medium skillet, then saute tomato over low heat about 5 minutes. Add green onions and ham and cook 3 minutes more.

Add eggs and continue cooking, stirring occasionally, until mixture thickens. Set aside to cool.

When cool, fill Puff Pastry Shells with mixture. Sprinkle each lightly with Parmesan cheese, then broil 1-2 minutes or until cheese browns. Makes 24 puffs.

Puff Pastry Shells

1 (1-pound 1 1/4-ounce) package frozen puff pastry

1 egg yolk, beaten

1 tablespoon water

Allow pastry dough to thaw at room temperature 20 minutes. Unfold carefully on pastry cloth. Use 2-inch decorative cutter to cut 24 circles from each sheet of dough. Use 1-inch cutter of same or complementary shape to cut centers from half of circles.

Combine egg yolk and water and use to brush underside of circles with open centers. Place, brushed side down, over uncut circles. Place, open centers upward, on baking sheet covered with foil, dull side up. Brush with egg yolk mixture.

Bake at 425 degrees 10 to 12 minutes or until golden brown. Cool. Makes 24 shells.

The complimentary relish tray was once a staple of L.A.’s fancy restaurants. The idea for this party-sized elaboration is borrowed from “The Brown Derby Cookbook” by Leonard Louis Levinson (Dolphin Books, 1962; originally published 1949). GARDEN RELISH TRAY

2 large carrots, peeled and cut julienne

2 large stalks celery, cut julienne

2 avocados

1/2 cup toasted coconut

24 large stuffed green olives

24 cooked bay shrimp

Crushed ice

1 sweet red pepper, seeded and cut into strips

1 green pepper, seeded and cut into strips

Few fresh garden flowers (optional)

Chill deep metal or ceramic tray in freezer. Meanwhile, place carrot and celery strips in large bowl of ice water about 10 minutes to curl. Remove and pat dry.

Halve avocados and discard pits. Scoop out meat with melon baller into small rounds. Roll avocado pieces in toasted coconut. Remove pimientos from olives with wood pick and replace each with 1 bay shrimp.

Fill chilled tray with crushed ice, then arrange carrot and celery curls, avocado balls, olives and pepper strips on top of ice in attractive pattern. Garnish with flowers. Makes 12 servings.

Note: Reserve pimientos for another use such as following recipe for Baked Chicken and Rice.

The chicken dish is inspired by a recipe in “Sunset’s Host & Hostess Cookbook.” BAKED CHICKEN AND RICE

1 (5-pound) stewing chicken

1 small onion, halved

2 stalks celery, cut into large pieces

1 carrot, cut into 3 or 4 pieces

Salt

1 cup rice

1/4 cup butter

1/4 cup flour

1 cup milk

1 cup whipping cream

1/2 pound mushrooms, finely chopped

1 (2-ounce) can pimiento, drained and diced

1 cup slivered almonds, lightly toasted

1 cup bread crumbs

Olive oil

Place chicken, onion, celery and carrot in large stockpot. Add water to cover chicken and season with salt. Cover pot and bring to boil. Reduce heat to medium-low and continue cooking, covered, at slow boil 1 1/2 hours, or until chicken is very tender.

Remove pot from heat and allow chicken to cool to room temperature in broth. When cool, remove chicken from pot, discarding vegetables but reserving and skimming broth.

Remove and discard skin from chicken. Remove meat from bones, chop into medium-sized pieces and set aside.

Place rice and 1 1/4 cups chicken broth in saucepan. Bring to boil, reduce heat, and continue cooking over low heat about 10 minutes.

Meanwhile, melt butter in another saucepan. Stir in flour to make thick paste. Gradually add milk and then cream, stirring constantly until mixture is smooth. Season to taste with salt.

Line bottom of large casserole or baking dish with thin layer of cooked rice. Scatter about 1/3 chicken over rice and pour thin layer of white sauce over chicken. Sprinkle about 1/3 mushrooms, pimiento and almonds over sauce, then repeat process until ingredients are used, ending with layer of almonds.

Moisten with small amount of remaining broth if casserole seems too dry. Sprinkle bread crumbs over top of casserole and drizzle with small amount of olive oil. Bake at 375 degrees 35 to 45 minutes or until heated through and browned on top. Makes 12 servings.

This slaw recipe appears in different form in “The Perfect Hostess Cook Book” by Mildred O. Knopf (Alfred A. Knopf, 1950). COLE SLAW WITH FRENCH DRESSING

1/2 cup tarragon vinegar

1 cup extra-virgin olive oil

1 teaspoon dry mustard

1/2 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce

1/2 teaspoon celery seeds

Salt

2 ice cubes

1 medium head green cabbage, finely shredded

1 medium head red cabbage, finely shredded

1 tablespoon anise seeds

Freshly ground black pepper

1/2 bunch chives, minced

Place vinegar in mixing bowl and slowly whisk in olive oil. In another, smaller bowl, mix mustard, Worcestershire, celery seeds and salt to taste into thin paste, then stir into oil and vinegar. Add ice cubes to bowl, stir several times, then place bowl in refrigerator until well chilled.

While dressing is chilling, toss cabbages together in large salad bowl. Sprinkle with anise seeds, add pepper to taste, then toss again.

Remove ice cubes from dressing. Add chives and stir thoroughly. Toss slaw with about 1 cup dressing, or to taste. Makes about 20 servings.

This is another recipe adapted from “The Perfect Hostess Cook Book.” CALIFORNIA FRUIT BOWL

4 navel oranges

2 grapefruits

4 apples

1 pineapple

2 cartons strawberries

2 cartons raspberries

2 bananas

1/2 cup late-harvest California riesling

1/2 cup grated coconut

Peel oranges and grapefruits, then cut into horizontal slices about 1/2-inch thick. Cut slices into quarters and place in very large serving bowl.

Peel and core apples and slice into thin vertical wedges. Add to bowl and mix lightly.

Quarter pineapple lengthwise. Cut off and discard core. Cut fruit from shell, then slice each segment into thin wedges. Add to bowl.

Stem and halve strawberries, then add along with raspberries to bowl. Turn salad several times, then refrigerate at least 30 minutes for flavors to blend.

Just before serving, slice bananas into bowl, add wine and turn again several times. Sprinkle top of salad with coconut. Makes 12 servings.

STYLISTS: CHRIS JONIC, STEPHANIE PUDDY