Mom’s Lentil Soup

Name: Mom's Lentil Soup
Prep time: 10 min
Cook time: 2 h
Yield: 12 people
Ingredients: 1 pound green lentils; 1/4 pound bacon or ham (diced, or a meaty ham bone); 1 cup celery (finely diced); 1 carrot; 1/4 onion (finely diced); 1 clove garlic (minced); 1 bay leaf (optional); 1 tablespoon salt; 1 teaspoon black pepper (preferably freshly ground or more to taste); 3 quarts water

4 Comments

January 26, 2018

My father liked soup. Actually, my father really, really liked soup. Every few weeks my mother would make beef noodle soup as it was one of my dad’s favorites. Beef noodle is the soup we had most often. Goulash was the “stew” we had most often. In fact, I don’t remember my mother ever making an American-style beef stew.

The first American-style beef stew that I ever made was from a recipe that my sister started using after she got married. It was definitely not one of our family recipes, though it was good.

After the beef noodle soup that my mother made on a regular basis, other soups were just occasional affairs, though soups of various types appeared often on our table.

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Italian “Wedding” Soup was a favorite but not something that we had more than a three or four times a year. Everyone in the family really loved Wedding Soup but, honestly, it’s a lot of work. It’s coming to the blog next month but today we have my Mom’s Lentil Soup.

Let’s face it, lentil soup isn’t something people swoon over. At best it is good comfort food. That’s exactly what this is for me.

It’s also easy to make. A few minutes of chopping and some stirring off-and-on are rewarded with a really good pot of soup.

My mother’s lentil soup was unusual in that she put enough black pepper into it to create a distinct bite. The first time I tasted it, as an adolescent, I was surprised by how peppery it was but I loved it. Whether or not you add that much black pepper is entirely your choice but, in my mind, it’s the black pepper that sets my mother’s lentil soup apart from the pack.

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Consistent with my mom’s low-and-slow philosophy, this soup is cooked longer that would be typical, for the average American cook at least. Despite the long cooking, the lentils remain intact though soft. They don’t really fall apart the way that dry beans might.

This soup freezes well so a big batch shouldn’t be a problem.

While a ham bone makes great lentil soup, it’s not something that most households have on a regular basis but a handful of baked ham or a few ounces of bacon make an awfully tasty soup.

If you have a favorite family recipe and a bit of a story to tell, please email me at santafecook@villasentieri.com and we can discuss including it in the blog. I am expanding the scope of my blog to include traditional recipes from around the country and around the world. If you haven’t seen Bertha’s Flan or Melinda’s Drunken Prunes, take a look. They will give you an idea of what I’m looking for.

Mom's Lentil Soup

When my mother made this soup, she added enough black pepper to give it a distinct bite. The addition of a bay leaf is my only modification of the original recipe.

Course

Soups and Stews

Cuisine

American

Prep Time

10 minutes

Cook Time

2 1/2 hours

Servings

people

Ingredients

1 pound green lentils
1/4 pound bacon or ham diced, or a meaty ham bone
1 cup celery finely diced
1 carrot
1/4 onion finely diced
1 clove garlic minced
1 bay leaf optional
1 tablespoon salt
1 teaspoon black pepper preferably freshly ground or more to taste
3 quarts water

Course

Soups and Stews

Cuisine

American

Prep Time

10 minutes

Cook Time

2 1/2 hours

Servings

people

Ingredients

1 pound green lentils
1/4 pound bacon or ham diced, or a meaty ham bone
1 cup celery finely diced
1 carrot
1/4 onion finely diced
1 clove garlic minced
1 bay leaf optional
1 tablespoon salt
1 teaspoon black pepper preferably freshly ground or more to taste
3 quarts water

Instructions

Wash and pick over the lentils then drain.
Shred the carrot on the tear-drop side of a box grater.
Put all the ingredients in a large stock pot.
Cover and bring to a boil.
Reduce heat and simmer partially covered for 2 to 2½ hours.
Adjust salt and pepper to taste.
The soup should be thick and the lentils soft but intact.

Recipe Notes

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Spaghetti with Tuna Sauce

Slow-Cooked Pork Roast with Sauerkraut and Sausage

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December 29, 2017

I grew up in Johnstown, PA. The town was founded by a Swiss German immigrant, Joseph Schantz in 1800. Over the years, in various documents, recorders anglicized his last name, most commonly rendering it “Johns,” a name the family ultimately adopted. The name of the town was ultimately changed from Schantzstadt to Johnstown.

**Johnstown Panorama (Photo by Greg Hume)**

I can’t say there was much of a noticeable German influence when I was growing up in the 1950s to 1970s, except for one: New Year’s Day dinner.

Regardless of one’s ethnic background, the most common dinner on New Year’s Day was “Pork and Sauerkraut.” It was commonly acknowledged that this was a nod to Johnstown’s German heritage. And, much like black-eyed peas in the South, was viewed as a way to bring good luck to the coming year.

As you might expect, recipes for pork and sauerkraut vary. Sauerkraut and a large cut of pork are, obviously, essential. Sausages of some sort are common, as are dumplings.

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The recipe that I use is close to what my mother made except that I enhance the seasonings in the sauerkraut along more Germanic lines, with onion, carrot, apple, and juniper berries. My mother’s was more basic and similar to the way the Slovak side of my family prepared sauerkraut. My cousin Angie, of Italian heritage, added a brown gravy to hers, which also has Germanic roots.

**The Inclined Plane goes from downtown Johnstown to the suburb of Westmont (Photo by Greg Hume)**

Long and slow cooking is essential as much for pull-apart-tender pork as it is to mellow out the sauerkraut. Among Central and Eastern Europeans, sauerkraut tends to be cooked for several hours to tenderize it and tame its sour bite.

Kielbasa was a favorite sausage in our house and was always included in pork and sauerkraut. It was always locally made and never procured from large national meatpackers. Often times, other sausages, such as bockwurst or bratwurst, would also be added. But kielbasa was king in pork and sauerkraut and, in the sausage pantheon, second only to hot Italian sausage in our house.

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The kielbasa that we ate on a regular basis was made from pork, or pork and beef, but venison kielbasa was common too. The first day of deer-hunting season was a public school holiday. You can imagine the importance of venison.

Some of the hunters would have their venison (or some of it, at least) turned into kielbasa, flavored with garlic and smoked. I remember on several occasions going with my father to have work done on the car in late December. The service station had a big platter of meats, cheeses, and pickles laid out for customers to nibble on. Among the offerings was venison kielbasa made from a deer that the owner of the service station had shot.

One of my resolutions for the new year is to find a small, artisanal purveyor of kielbasa that’s as good as what I remember from childhood.

If you have a favorite family recipe and a bit of a story to tell, please email me at santafecook@villasentieri.com and we can discuss including it in the blog. I am expanding the scope of my blog to include traditional recipes from around the country and around the world. If you haven’t seen the post on Melinda’s Drunken Prunes, it will give you an idea of what I’m looking for.

Slow-Cooked Pork Roast with Sauerkraut and Sausage

Saueraut from the refrigerated section of the market is usually of better quality than canned, especially if the sauerkraut is from an artisinal producer. Draining the sauerkraut and rinsing it well under cool water will produce a more mellow taste. If you want dumplings with this (and who wouldn't?), remove the meat from the pan and keep warm while cooking dumplings on top of the sauerkraut on the stovetop. See the notes section below for my recipe for dumplings.

Course

Mains, Meats

Cuisine

German

Prep Time

20 m

Cook Time

6 1/2 hours

Servings

people

Ingredients

5 pound bone-in pork roast such as a shoulder or Boston Butt
4-5 cloves garlic
1/4 cup oil
1 cup white wine
2 onions
4 tablespoons butter or bacon fat or a combination
1 carrot
1 apple
2 pounds sauerkraut preferably refrigerated
1 tablespoon juniper berries
1 1/2 teaspoons caraway seeds
1 bay leaf
5 cups water
1 pound kielbasa
1 pound pork or pork-beef sausage of your choice such as bratwurst, bockwurst, and so forth
salt to taste
black pepper freshly ground to taste

Course

Mains, Meats

Cuisine

German

Prep Time

20 m

Cook Time

6 1/2 hours

Servings

people

Ingredients

5 pound bone-in pork roast such as a shoulder or Boston Butt
4-5 cloves garlic
1/4 cup oil
1 cup white wine
2 onions
4 tablespoons butter or bacon fat or a combination
1 carrot
1 apple
2 pounds sauerkraut preferably refrigerated
1 tablespoon juniper berries
1 1/2 teaspoons caraway seeds
1 bay leaf
5 cups water
1 pound kielbasa
1 pound pork or pork-beef sausage of your choice such as bratwurst, bockwurst, and so forth
salt to taste
black pepper freshly ground to taste

Instructions

Cut the cloves of garlic, top to bottom, into approximately 4-6 slivers each.
Pierce the pork around the outside about 1 inch deep with the tip of a sharp knife.
Insert slivers of garlic into the slits
Season the pork generously with salt and pepper.
Brown the pork in a heavy Dutch oven using the oil.
Add white wine, cover tightly, and transfer to oven at 350°F.
After one hour, reduce heat to 225°F.
Slice the onions in half top-to-bottom then cut crosswise into thin slices.
Shred the carrot on the tear-drop side of a box grater.
Cut the apple into small dice.
After the pork has been cooking for a total of about 3 hours, drain and rinse the sauerkraut.
Slowly sauté the onion in the butter or bacon fat until caramelized, approximately 20 minutes.
Add the shredded carrot and diced apple and sauté until heated through.
Add sauerkraut, juniper berries, caraway seeds, bay leaf, and black pepper to taste.
Add water and bring to a boil.
Add the boiling sauerkraut to the pork after the pork has cooked for a total of four hours (1 hour at 350°F plus 3 hours at 225°F).
An hour later nestle the kielbasa and other sausage into the sauerkraut.
Continue to cook, covered, until the pork is fall-off-the-bone tender. Approximately 1-2 more hours.
Remove the pork and sausages.
Skim fat from the top of the sauerkraut.
Put the Dutch oven on the stove and cook dumplings on top of the sauerkraut if desired.
Meanwhile, pull the pork into big chunks. Keep the pork and sausages warm.
Serve the sauerkraut in a separate bowl, or use it to surround the pork and sausages.

Recipe Notes

This is where you can find my recipe for dumplings.

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Recipes

Salsa Friulana d’Ivana (Ivana’s Friulan Tomato Sauce)

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November 17, 2017

My mother-in-law grew up in the town of Treppo Grande in the Italian province of Friuli. Friuli is in northeastern Italy. It is the major portion of the region of Friuli-Venezia Giulia.

Her father and two uncles lived with their families in three houses that wrapped around a courtyard. Her grandmother lived in the same complex. The extended family included numerous cousins.

Another uncle moved to the United States with his wife and their son early on. Two more children were born to them in the US.

At the age of 12, shortly after the end of World War II my mother-in-law, her brother (our Uncle Ray), and mother came to the States. Her father had been in the US working with the intention of bringing over the family but then the war broke out and the family could not be reunited until it ended.

One set of cousins stayed in Treppo Grande. Another set of cousins moved to France.

In 1990 the “cousins,” as the US contingent called themselves, hatched a plan to organize a group trip to their hometown of Treppo Grande and to Digoin, France where the other set of “courtyard cousins” lived.

Naturally, planning for the trip required many “meetings” among the cousins; meetings that were fueled with copious amounts of food and alcohol interspersed with a little “business!”

The trip happened in August 1991. My husband and I went along with the “cousins” and their spouses.

The “United States” cousins and three of four spouses in Treppo Grande along with Carolina Fabbro, a friend of my mother-in-law’s mother. She died a few years ago at more than 100 years of age.

We first met up in Paris for a day or two and did some sightseeing.

Afterwards, we were picked up in a small bus that had been arranged by Olvino, one of the original “courtyard cousins” who lived in Digoin. As I recall, the driver only spoke French. Among us we spoke English, Italian, Friulan (the language of Friuli), and a smattering of Spanish and German, but no French. Thankfully the driver knew where he was going and, for all other needs, we managed to communicate in some rudimentary, but effective, manner.

Interesting to me was that the vehicle had graph paper that kept a running record of the bus’s speed. Apparently the driver could be asked to produce the graph paper by the police and could be fined if it showed that he had exceeded the speed limit. Can you imagine that happening in the United States???

I was also fascinated when we stopped for lunch. The driver had a glass of wine. I will repeat that. This professional bus driver had a glass of wine with lunch then got behind the wheel. Apparently, he was legally permitted to have one, just one, glass of wine and still drive.

Admittedly, one glass of wine is not going to get anyone’s blood alcohol level close to a level that produces intoxication but it pointed out that 1) the French are highly (overly?) regulated and 2) Europeans have a more relaxed approach to alcohol (probably to life in general, actually!).

I had a similar experience in 1994 when I did several consulting gigs in Europe. I frequently had lunch with physicians from the hospitals where I was consulting. Everyone (yes, everyone) had a glass of wine or beer with lunch and then went back to the hospital to work.

But I digress.

We spent several fun days in Digoin, where the local cousins had rented out a small hall, with a kitchen, because none of them had a house big enough to host all of us, and all of them, for meals.

There must have been six banquet tables shaped into a “U” around which we all sat. The crowd included not only those of us from the States, but the cousins who lived in Digoin along with their significant others, their children, and their children’s significant others.

Conversations frequently included four languages. The “cousins” typically spoke Friulan with each other. From there, the conversation would get translated into Italian, English, and French so that everyone could understand anything of interest to the group.

I don’t remember what we ate for dinner the first night except for the pasta which was sauced with a red sauce made by Ivana, Olvino’s wife.

I was transported by that sauce.

Tomato sauces in Friuli are different from the rest of Italy in that they have noticeable amounts of “warm” spices such as cinnamon, cloves, and nutmeg. My mother-in-law makes a sauce similar to the one that Ivana makes but there are differences. For example, hers includes only beef. Today’s recipe, however, is a tribute to Ivana.

This is my interpretation of Ivana’s recipe. Since the original recipe contained a list of ingredients but no quantities, I had to figure out what worked.

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Salsa Friulana d'Ivana (Ivana's Friulan Tomato Sauce)

There should be a little bit of red-tinged oil floating on top of the sauce to improve the mouthfeel of the pasta—just a little. If you cannot find lean ground pork, you may want to grind your own. An actual meat grinder will work better than a food processor but if you’re using a food processor be careful not to grind the meat too finely. For the beef, I suggest using 93% lean. This recipe makes enough sauce for approximately 4 pounds of pasta. Extra sauce freezes well.

Course

Pasta, Noodles, and Sauces

Cuisine

Italian

Prep Time

30 minutes

Cook Time

3 hours

Servings

cups

Ingredients

1 pound ground beef
1 pound ground pork
4 cloves garlic chopped
1/2 medium onion diced
1/3 cup chopped fresh parsley leaves and tender stems only
7-8 fresh sage leaves
2 bay leaves preferably fresh
2 sprigs rosemary approximately 3 inches each
1/3 cup fresh basil leaves or 2 teaspoons dry basil
2 28 ounce cans whole peeled tomatoes or crushed tomatoes or tomato puree
1/2 cup dry red wine
1 1/2 cups water
1 inch stick cinnamon
4 cloves
1/4 teaspoon grated nutmeg
salt to taste
black pepper freshly ground to taste

Course

Pasta, Noodles, and Sauces

Cuisine

Italian

Prep Time

30 minutes

Cook Time

3 hours

Servings

cups

Ingredients

1 pound ground beef
1 pound ground pork
4 cloves garlic chopped
1/2 medium onion diced
1/3 cup chopped fresh parsley leaves and tender stems only
7-8 fresh sage leaves
2 bay leaves preferably fresh
2 sprigs rosemary approximately 3 inches each
1/3 cup fresh basil leaves or 2 teaspoons dry basil
2 28 ounce cans whole peeled tomatoes or crushed tomatoes or tomato puree
1/2 cup dry red wine
1 1/2 cups water
1 inch stick cinnamon
4 cloves
1/4 teaspoon grated nutmeg
salt to taste
black pepper freshly ground to taste

Instructions

If using canned tomatoes rather than crushed tomatoes or tomato puree, pass the tomatoes through a food mill and reserve.
Grind the pork if you cannot get ground pork in your market.
Grind the garlic, onion, and parsley in a food processor. If you used a food processor for the pork, there is no need to clean it. Alternatively, chop them very, very finely by hand.
Heat the olive oil in a heavy bottomed Dutch oven.
Add the garlic-onion-parsley mixture. Sauté until the raw smell is gone.
Add the ground beef and pork and sauté on high heat until the meat is browned.
Add the tomato puree or crushed tomatoes.
Add all remaining ingredients.
Sage
Rosemary
Basil
Bay leaves
Cinnamon
Cloves
Nutmeg
Simmer gently, partially covered, stirring frequently for approximately 2 ½ hours.
Adjust salt and pepper during cooking.
Toss approximately 1/4 of the sauce with one pound of cooked pasta.

Recipe Notes

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Recipes

Eduardo’s Chimichurri

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October 20, 2017

We’ve been to Argentina at least three times. Once as part of a trip to explore wine country in Chile and Argentina, once as part of a trip to Antarctica for which the ship left from Tierra del Fuego, and once with my in-laws to visit relatives who lived in Patagonia.

**Tierra del Fuego, the starting point for our Antarctic adventure!**

On each trip we spent some time in Buenos Aires, some more than others. And on each trip we did the Argentine thing of eating copious quantities of meat.

Eateries abound selling meats of various types cooked over live charcoal. The less fancy, but no less good, ones are often outdoor affairs with pots of chimichurri on each table. Often, the maestro de parrilla (grill master) is standing just feet away tending several large parrillas (grills) brimming with various cuts of meat. One of our most memorable meals of grilled meats was at just such a place in the suburbs of Buenos Aires with a friend from the States who married an Argentine and moved to Buenos Aires.

I developed a true appreciation for the extent to which Argentines love meat, however, at several family dinners at my husband’s Great Uncle Duilio and Great Aunt Juliana’s house in Puerto Madryn, Patagonia. Duilio is Fidalma’s brother. I’ve mentioned Fidalma several times in this blog.

We spent a week in Puerto Madryn and had two Sunday dinners with Duilio’s family (daughters, sons-in-law, and grandchildren).

To accommodate large family gatherings, one of Duilio’s daughters converted an outbuilding to host bacchanalian feasts. There was a large indoor parilla with grill racks, an iron cross to hold an entire lamb near the charcoal, and a hook to hold a cauldron over the heat. There was another parilla just outside the door, in the courtyard. The rest of the interior space was given over to a very, very long table and chairs.

**Indoor parilla with a whole lamb and sausages**

When we arrived for the second Sunday dinner, Eduardo, one of Duilio’s sons-in-law was frying 15 kilos (that’s 33 pounds!) of calamari in a large cauldron set over a fire in the indoor parilla. This was just to keep us from getting restless and hungry as the rest of the meal was prepared.

**Outdoor parilla with chicken and brochettes**

When we sat down to eat, the first course was grilled chicken. The grilled chicken course was followed by grilled sausages. The grilled sausages were followed by grilled lamb. The grilled lamb was followed by grilled beef.

Yep, each course was a different meat!

Truth be told, there were some vegetables on the table. But that doesn’t mean they were eaten by most of the family and the quantity certainly paled in comparison to the herd of animals that made its way onto the table in succession.

The seating arrangement was in strict age progression. Duilio and Juliana sat at the head. On either side of them sat my husband’s parents. Next to them on opposite sides of the table was where my husband and I were seated. After that came Dulio and Juliana’s daughters and their husbands. The remainder of the table was filled with grandchildren.

The vegetables started at “our” end of the table. Duilio and Juliana, as well as my in-laws and the two of us actually put vegetables on our plates. Duilio and Juliana’s daughters took a bite or two, as I recall. The sons-in-law and grandchildren wanted nothing to do with anything that was suspiciously related to a root!

And there you have it. Course after course of meat, no veggies for the “true” Argentines, a bit of dessert, and the obligatory cup of mate passed around the table.

Eduardo cooked all the food magnificently. This is his chimichurri recipe. It contains a few ingredients that might seem unusual but since his family has been in Argentina for many generations who am I to argue?

In addition to serving as the typical condiment for grilled meat, chimichurri is also as a marinade for the same meat. It will keep a week in the refrigerator so be sure to make enough to both marinate the meat and serve as a condiment.

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Eduardo's Chimichurri

While a few of the ingredients may seem unusual, Eduardo’s family has lived in Argentina for several generations so I don’t doubt the traditional nature of this recipe. Make extra and use some to marinate the meat before cooking. Pass the remainder at the table. You can use either red or white wine vinegar but I prefer white as it does not dull the bright green color of the herbs.

Course

Savory Sauces and Marinades

Cuisine

Argentine

Prep Time

20 minutes

Passive Time

3 hours

Servings

cups

Ingredients

1 teaspoon English mustard powder
1 teaspoon water
10 medium cloves garlic chopped
1/2 cup lightly packed fragrant fresh basil leaves
3/4 cup lightly packed fresh flat-leaf parsley stems removed
1 cup extra virgin olive oil
1/4 cup wine vinegar white or red (see note)
2 tablespoons dried oregano
1 tablespoon cracked red pepper
2 teaspoons salt
1/2 teaspoon cracked black pepper
1/2 teaspoon curry powder

Course

Savory Sauces and Marinades

Cuisine

Argentine

Prep Time

20 minutes

Passive Time

3 hours

Servings

cups

Ingredients

1 teaspoon English mustard powder
1 teaspoon water
10 medium cloves garlic chopped
1/2 cup lightly packed fragrant fresh basil leaves
3/4 cup lightly packed fresh flat-leaf parsley stems removed
1 cup extra virgin olive oil
1/4 cup wine vinegar white or red (see note)
2 tablespoons dried oregano
1 tablespoon cracked red pepper
2 teaspoons salt
1/2 teaspoon cracked black pepper
1/2 teaspoon curry powder

Instructions

In a jar with a tight-fitting lid large enough to hold the finished sauce, combine the mustard and water.
Allow the mustard-water mixture to stand approximately 7-10 minutes to develop the mustard’s flavor.
Meanwhile, in a small blender jar, combine the garlic and one-half of the olive oil. Blend until garlic is finely minced.
Add the basil to the garlic-oil mixture and blend again until basil is finely chopped but not pureed.
Add the garlic-oil-basil mixture to the mustard mixture.
Combine the remaining oil and parsley in the blender jar and blend until parsley is finely chopped but not pureed.
Add the parsley-oil mixture to the herb mixture.
Use the wine to rinse out the blender jar and then add it to the herb mixture.
Add all other ingredients. Mix well.
X
Cover and allow the chimichurri to sit at room temperature for approximately three hours to develop flavor.
The chimichurri can be refrigerated, tightly covered, for up to a week.

Recipe Notes

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Recipes

Mom’s Ravioli

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September 27, 2017

My strongest olfactory memory of childhood is gradually waking up on Sunday morning to the smell (perfume is a better characterization as far as I’m concerned) of garlic being sautéed in olive oil.

That was how most Sundays started.

My mother would get up early and start making her long-simmered Southern Italian Tomato Sauce (referred to as Ragu or Sugo if one’s Italian roots were close, “Gravy” if one grew up in New York or nearby, and often just “Sauce”). We unceremoniously called it “Spaghetti Sauce” though it was used on much more than spaghetti!

I think the better part of my culinary-cultural history is represented by that sauce. Every Italian family’s sauce is different, even if stylistic similarities can be identified. The sauces made by my mother and her two sisters that I knew, Aunt Margie and Aunt Mamie, were clearly related but also different. Each was good but it’s not as if they didn’t deviate from my Grandmother’s recipe. They were similar in that garlic and meat were browned in oil; tomato products, water, and seasonings were added; and the whole thing simmered for hours. The meats varied, the tomato products (tomato paste, tomato puree, whole canned tomatoes, etc.) and the proportions of them definitely varied as did the seasonings and other aromatics.

My mother’s “Spaghetti Sauce” to call it by its “historic” name, a name that I no longer use, is, without doubt, my most precious culinary treasure. I have only ever given the recipe out twice. In the 1970’s I gave it to John Bowker and his wife Margaret Roper Bowker. John was the dean of Trinity College in Cambridge, England. Recently I gave it to Robert Reddington and John O’Malley in Palm Springs after Bob lamented the loss of the recipe for the long-simmered tomato sauce he learned to make while living in Chicago.

With my mother’s sauce as the near-constant backdrop to our Sunday dinners, the rest of the meal varied. The sauce could be served with spaghetti or some other cut of dry pasta, or with my mother’s home-made fettuccine, or with ravioli. Although my favorite pasta is gnocchi, we never had those on Sundays as my father didn’t like them. Gnocchi (always home-made) were reserved for a weeknight meal during the times that my father worked out of town.

The sauce has an abundant amount of meat in it, pork, always cut in big pieces, never ground or chopped. Nonetheless, the pasta was often accompanied by my mother’s slow-cooked roast pork or maybe a roast chicken.

It seems incongruous now, but in the 1960s, before the widespread use of antibiotics, chickens were expensive! (I’m not in favor of the prophylactic use of antibiotics but I’m just saying that’s why chickens are relatively inexpensive now.) I still have a handful of my mother’s “City Chicken” sticks from the 1960s. They are round, pointed sticks slimmer than a pencil but thicker than bamboo skewers. Pieces of pork and veal would be skewered in alternating fashion on the sticks, breaded, and fried like chicken drumsticks. This was less expensive than chicken!!

But back to Sundays…

Sometimes, after the sauce was bubbling away, my mother would make ravioli. Next to gnocchi, they are my favorite pasta, but manicotti and lasagna aren’t far behind.

We would eat our big meal around 1 PM on Sunday and my mother would get all of this done in time for that meal, including taking time to go to church, during which my Aunt Mamie, who lived upstairs, would be tasked with stirring the “Spaghetti Sauce.”

Making ravioli in a group is a lot more fun. I also find that making the ravioli on a different day from the day they are cooked and eaten means that I am not as tired and I enjoy them more. The pictures in this post are from a Sunday when I got together with Rich DePippo, Susan Vinci-Lucero, and my in-laws, Marisa and Frank Pieri, to make ravioli. I think we made about 30 dozen ravioli!

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Mom's Ravioli

The filling can be made a day in advance and refrigerated, tightly covered. Ravioli freeze well. To do so, lightly flour a sheet pan that will fit in your freezer and put the ravioli in a single layer. Freeze about 30-45 minutes, until firm. Quickly put the ravioli in a zipper-lock bag and return to the freezer. Repeat with the remaining ravioli. My mother always made her dough by hand but I use a kitchen mixer and the beater, not the dough hook. Years ago, ground meat was not labeled with the percent fat. My mother would select a cut of sirloin, have the butcher trim off all visible fat and then grind it. I find that 93% lean ground beef replicates the experience.

Course

Pasta, Noodles, and Sauces

Cuisine

Italian

Prep Time

2 hours

Passive Time

30 minutes

Servings

people

Ingredients

Filling

10 ounces frozen chopped spinach
1 pound ground beef 93% lean
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 clove garlic minced
1 egg lightly beaten
1/3 cup fine dry breadcrumbs additional if needed
salt to taste
black pepper freshly ground to taste

Dough

4 cups all purpose flour
1 egg
3 egg whites
1 cup water scant

Course

Pasta, Noodles, and Sauces

Cuisine

Italian

Prep Time

2 hours

Passive Time

30 minutes

Servings

people

Ingredients

Filling

10 ounces frozen chopped spinach
1 pound ground beef 93% lean
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 clove garlic minced
1 egg lightly beaten
1/3 cup fine dry breadcrumbs additional if needed
salt to taste
black pepper freshly ground to taste

Dough

4 cups all purpose flour
1 egg
3 egg whites
1 cup water scant

Instructions

Filling

Put the frozen spinach in a small saucepan. Add a few tablespoons of water. Cover and cook, stirring occasionally, until the spinach is completely thawed.
Pour the spinach into a large sieve.
After the spinach has cooled enough to handle, squeeze handfuls of the spinach to remove as much liquid as possible.
Heat the olive oil in a 12-inch sauté pan until shimmering. Add the beef.
Cook over high heat until the liquid has evaporated, breaking up the meat while cooking.
Reduce the heat to medium and add the garlic, 1 teaspoon of salt, and black pepper to taste. Continue to sauté for 2-3 minutes more.
Add the spinach to the beef.
Continue to cook over medium to medium-low heat while breaking up the spinach and completely combining it with the beef.
When the beef and spinach are well combined and no obvious liquid remains in the pan, add the beaten egg. Stir well and cook two minutes more. The egg should completely incorporate into the filling and no longer be visible.
Adjust salt and pepper.
On low heat, add 1/4-1/3 cup of breadcrumbs and combine well to absorb any remaining liquid or oil. If necessary to absorb any remaining liquid, add another tablespoon or two of breadcrumbs. If you cooked off all the liquid when browning the beef, and used lean beef, 1/3 cup of breadcrumbs should be enough.
Cool the filling to room temperature before filling the ravioli.

Dough

Put the flour, egg, and egg whites in the bowl of an electric mixer outfitted with a paddle.
Mix on low until combined.
Add the water, a little at a time, until the dough just comes together. The dough should not be the slightest bit tacky. You may not need all the water.
Remove the dough from the mixer and roll into a log. Cover with a kitchen towel and allow to rest for 15 to 30 minutes before rolling out.

Assembly

Set up your pasta machine, either a hand crank version or an attachment for your mixer.
Cut off a small handful of dough.
Flatten the dough, dust with flour, and run it through the pasta machine on the thickest setting.
If the dough is catching on the rollers it may be too wet. Sprinkle liberally with flour.
Run the dough through the same setting one more time.
Run the dough through the pasta machine narrowing the setting by one notch each time. If the dough is getting too long to cover much more than two lengths of the ravioli mold, cut off the excess and continue.
When rolling out the dough, use slow, even motion. If the dough is not rolling out to the full width of the machine, or at least wide enough to cover the width of the ravioli mold, fold it in half crosswise and run it through the machine again on whatever the last setting was.
If the dough is not rolling out smoothly, and the issue is not that it is too damp, run the dough through the machine again on the same setting.
On most pasta machines with five settings for thickness, you will want to stop rolling out the dough on the next-to-thinnest setting.
Put the rolled out dough on a lightly floured surface and cover with a kitchen towel. Repeat with 2 or 3 more portions of dough.
Allow the remaining dough to rest, covered, while filling and cutting the first batch of ravioli.
To fill the ravioli, take the rolled out dough and lay it across the ravioli mold.
Add a slightly rounded teaspoonful of filling to each ravioli. Do not overfill or the ravioli may break when being cooked.
Fold the dough over the top.
Lightly pat the top sheet of dough.
Using a rolling pin, cut the dough along the zig-zag edges. Be careful to fully cut through the dough around the edges as well as between each raviolo.
Remove the ravioli and place on a lightly floured surface. Cover lightly with a kitchen towel.
Repeat with the remaining dough and filling.
Cook, refrigerate, or freeze the ravioli.

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Recipes

New Mexican Green Chile Sauce

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September 22, 2017

Those of you who haven’t spent time in New Mexico may not know that chile (definitely spelled with an “e”) has cult status in the state.

New Mexican food wouldn’t be the same without “red” or “green.” Chile, that is. Those are the standard sauces used in New Mexican cuisine.

When ordering most dishes in a New Mexican restaurant in Santa Fe, the first question from the server, if the customer hasn’t specified, is “Red or Green or Christmas?”

Just 70 miles away in Taos, the question is “Red or Green or Caribe?”

It’s not that you can’t get Christmas in Taos, which as you might have guessed is half red chile sauce and half green chile sauce, it’s that never, ever is Caribe an option in Santa Fe. It just isn’t. I believe this speaks to the development of related, but different, foodways in the historically isolated towns and villages of New Mexico.

The most famous of all New Mexico chile is Hatch. There are about six varieties of chile grown in Hatch but, if they’re grown there, they can all be labeled as Hatch Chile. The tiny village of Chimayó, just under 30 miles from Santa Fe in northern New Mexico, grows good chile, too.

When I buy roasted green chile at the Santa Fe Farmers Market, I usually head for the vendor selling chile from Chimayó. That’s exactly what I did last week to make a batch of Green Chile for this blog post (honestly, we don’t add the word “sauce” to the end as the context indicates whether one is talking about the sauce or the fruit. And, yes, chile is a fruit!). Chimayó has a multi-hundred year history of growing heirloom chile and I feel good supporting that history, if even in a very small way.

**A typical chile-roasting set-up found throughout parking lots in New Mexico in the late summer.**

I served that chile during a dinner party for a group of close friends. Among the ten of us, only one was born and raised in New Mexico, Pat Assimakis (aka Pat Paris if you’re a maître d’ and she’s ever made a reservation at your restaurant). I gave Pat a taste of my green chile, she thought for a second and said, “Chimayó?” She nailed it! It’s got a slightly different taste from Hatch chile.

New Mexicans have strong opinions about their chile, be it red or green. The usual divide is between those who put almost nothing but chile in their chile (see, you knew the first meant the fruit and the second meant the sauce, right?) except for a bit of onion and/or garlic and those who add herbs (like oregano) and spices (like cumin). I am firmly in the former camp. Onion and garlic help to round out the flavor but, to my taste, herbs and spices detract from the pure chile goodness.

The other divide is degree of heat. Back to the restaurant scenario above, a frequent question from the customer after the server says “Red or Green?” is “Which is hotter?” Restaurants stake out their territory, not only in how they make their chile, but in terms of which is hotter.

Since I’m a bit of a chile-head, given a choice between the medium-hot and the hot Chimayó chile at the Farmers Market, I opted for the hot. So, I was more than a little concerned when Doug Howe, one of the other friends at our dinner, and the first to ladle some green chile onto his plate, took three large spoonsful. Before I could warn him, he took a bite and was in agony. I relieved him of his green chile, putting it on my plate, instead. Pat and I sure enjoyed the chile, Doug not so much. As for the other seven diners, I’m not sure.

In case you missed it, here is my recipe for Red Chile.

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New Mexican Green Chile Sauce

This is classic New Mexican Green Chile. There are just a few aromatics and no herbs and spices to muddy the flavor. Removing the skin and seeds can be a chore as they want to stick to your fingers. Dipping the chile and your fingers in water makes the task a breeze however, you want to use that water as part of the sauce because all of the tasty liquid that collects inside the chile as it roasts would be lost otherwise.

Course

Savory Sauces and Marinades

Cuisine

American, New Mexican

Prep Time

30 minutes

Cook Time

45 minutes

Servings

cups

Ingredients

2 cups roasted green chile diced
1/2 large onion diced
2 cloves garlic minced
4 cups water
2 teaspoons salt

Course

Savory Sauces and Marinades

Cuisine

American, New Mexican

Prep Time

30 minutes

Cook Time

45 minutes

Servings

cups

Ingredients

2 cups roasted green chile diced
1/2 large onion diced
2 cloves garlic minced
4 cups water
2 teaspoons salt

Instructions

Roasted green chile ready to be cleaned.
Put two cups of water in a small bowl.
Holding the chile over a bowl to catch any juice, use your fingers to remove the skin of the roasted chile. Most of the skin should slide off easily. You may need to work on a few bits here and there. Remove as much skin as possible but a few bits of stubbornly sticking skin aren’t a problem.
Shake whatever skin you can from your fingers (it has a tendency to cling desperately to your fingers) then dip your fingers and the chile in the bowl of water to remove the clinging skin.
Still holding the chile over a bowl, remove the stem end. You can usually do this by pinching the top of the chile but a pair of kitchen shears works well, too.
Discard the stem end and any seeds that cling to it.
Split the chile in half lengthwise. Again, this is pretty easy to do with a fingernail.
Dip the chile into the bowl of water and scrape away the seeds.
Put the cleaned chile into a clean bowl and repeat the process with the remaining chile.
Cut the chile into long strips.
Cut the chile crosswise into small squares
Add any liquid that has collected in the bottom of the bowl from the chopped chile to the bowl of water.
Strain out seeds and bits of flesh from the water using a three step process. Strain the water through a large sieve.
Strain the liquid through a fine, small sieve.
Strain the liquid through several layers of cheesecloth or a paper filter.
Chop the onion.
Mince the garlic.
Combine ½ cup of chopped chile, onion, garlic, strained water, and salt in a saucepan. Bring the mixture to a boil and simmer for 20 minutes.
Using an immersion blender or a regular blender puree the chile mixture. This will help to thicken the chile sauce without using a thickening agent.
Add the remaining diced chile and two cups of water to the puree and simmer until the chile is soft to the bite, but not mushy, approximately 15-20 minutes, adjusting salt approximately 10 minutes into the simmer. If you used a regular blender in the previous step, use the water to rinse out the blender jar before adding it to the pot.
The green chile can be refrigerated or frozen. It will become softer if frozen so best to cook it for a shorter time if it is going to be frozen.

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Recipes

Angie’s Pickled Hot Peppers

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September 13, 2017

With one set of grandparents and many relatives hailing from Southern Italy, hot peppers and foods containing hot peppers were staple features of the cuisine I grew up eating.

Hot sausage, with fennel seed, was frequently on our table and, since it was often homemade by Uncle Joe Medile, it could be as hot as we wanted. When it wasn’t Uncle Joe’s sausage, it would typically have been from Lopresti’s Market in Geistown, a suburb of Johnstown, PA.

Spicy foods more often showed up at lunch, though. There was spicy salumi, including Calabrese salami, capocollo (of which there are several types but in our house it was always the spicy one), and sopressata, among others.

There were hot banana peppers fried until tender, usually with onions. The fried peppers could be a condiment or they could be used as the filling for a sandwich. Fried hot pepper sandwiches are still one of my favorite lunchtime treats!

There were various pickled, spicy vegetables like giardineria and pickled peppers of various types. These were usually store-bought except for my cousin Angie’s pickled hot peppers.

Angie is the daughter of my mother’s oldest sister. Angie, however, was born six months before my mother. It’s kind of interesting to think about the fact that my grandmother was pregnant with my mother at the same time that my grandmother’s daughter was pregnant with Angie.

Despite their inverted ages, Angie always called my mother Aunt Theresa.

Angie’s mom, my Aunt Rosie, died at a young age. I never knew her. Aunt Rosie’s husband, Uncle Dominic lived with their other daughter, Marie.

Uncle Dominic grew vegetables, including hot peppers, in the back yard. He’s the one who taught me about fried hot pepper sandwiches for which I am eternally grateful!

Usually I would make Angie’s Pickled Hot Peppers with Italian Banana Peppers but fresh New Mexico Green Chile is far more abundant in Santa Fe than Banana Peppers and the substitution works just fine. Years past, when we lived in Chicago and grew lots of peppers, I would even make these with jalapeno peppers.

These peppers are a breeze to make, just some slicing and dicing and pulling together a quick pickle. No actual canning or processing is required. They will keep for months and months in the refrigerator.

The recipe calls for a peck of peppers. A peck is an interesting measure. It is eight dry quarts. A dry quart, however, is not the same as a liquid quart (unless you use the British Imperial system in which case a dry quart and a liquid quart are the same volume but not the same volume as any quart used in America).

Confused? Oh how I wish we used the metric system!!!

A dry quart is slightly larger than a liquid quart. Eight dry quarts equals 9 1/3 liquid quarts. If you go to a farmers market, chances are you’ve seen produce displayed in baskets that are one peck in size. Not to worry, though. First off, the measurements aren’t that critical for this recipe, so plus or minus a quart (dry or liquid) isn’t a big deal. Second, if you have any type of large container, pot, or bucket marked in liquid measure, just fill it up a little beyond the 9 (liquid) quart mark and you’ll be good to go.

If you’re buying peppers in the supermarket and don’t want to carry a bucket to measure a peck, I suggest buying approximately four pounds of banana peppers. I found that amount of New Mexico Green Chile came very close to a peck when I measured it out.

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Angie's Pickled Hot Peppers

Though usually made with hot Italian Banana Peppers, I made this batch with hot New Mexico Green Chile which is far easier to source in Santa Fe than are large quantities of Banana Peppers. Four pounds of peppers should come pretty close to a peck. A peck is 8 dry quarts which is the equivalent of 9 1/3 liquid quarts. If there isn’t enough pickling liquid to fully submerge the peppers, make a little extra following the proportions in the recipe. These peppers will keep well in the refrigerator for many months. Try to let them mellow at least a couple of days before eating them…if you can!

Course

Canning and Preserving, Food Preservation

Cuisine

Italian

Prep Time

75 minutes

Passive Time

8 hours

Servings

quarts

Ingredients

1 peck hot banana peppers
6 stalks celery
1 quart apple cider vinegar
3 cups water
2 cups vegetable oil preferably canola
3 large cloves garlic minced
1/4 cup salt preferably canning and pickling salt
1/4 cup dry oregano

Course

Canning and Preserving, Food Preservation

Cuisine

Italian

Prep Time

75 minutes

Passive Time

8 hours

Servings

quarts

Ingredients

1 peck hot banana peppers
6 stalks celery
1 quart apple cider vinegar
3 cups water
2 cups vegetable oil preferably canola
3 large cloves garlic minced
1/4 cup salt preferably canning and pickling salt
1/4 cup dry oregano

Instructions

Wash and dry the peppers.
Cut off the stem ends.
Cut the peppers crosswise into rings a little more than 1/8 inch thick.
Cut the celery into ¼ inch dice.
In a non-reactive container large enough to hold all the ingredients, combine the vinegar, water, oil, garlic, salt, and oregano. Mix well.
Add the sliced peppers and diced celery.
Mix thoroughly. Cover and allow to sit at room temperature for 8 hours or overnight.
Using a slotted spoon, ladle the peppers and celery into clean jars.
Once the jars are filled, ladle the pickling liquid into the jars. Mix the liquid well with each ladleful so that you get the right proportions of vinegar/water and oil.
If there is not quite enough liquid to cover the peppers make a small amount more using the same proportions.
Cover and refrigerate until ready to use.

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Recipes

Fried Zucchini Blossoms (Fiori di Zucca Fritti)

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August 2, 2017

Fried Zucchini Blossoms are one of the joys of summer at our house.

Simple, unadorned flowers, coated with a small amount of an equally simple batter (flour, salt and water), are addictive.

Stuffed zucchini blossoms are common and often quite good but in my estimation the stuffing does not pay homage to the blossom. One really tastes the stuffing, not the blossom. This is fine if one has such an overabundance of zucchini blossoms that one can squander them by stuffing them.

**A zucchini blossom in our courtyard container garden.**

Don’t get me wrong, I like stuffed zucchini blossoms but I’d much rather nibble my way through the crispy fried flowers with a cocktail. Bourbon, did someone say bourbon?

On a summer trip to Italy a few years back, one of the pizzas that I kept seeing was topped with zucchini blossoms alternating with anchovies. It made a striking presentation (which I suppose was the point) but there was no way the taste of the blossoms could stand up to the anchovies. But taste isn’t everything. I’ll admit that appearance is equally important.

When I was in college I ate fried food with abandon. Most of it was fried in lard that I rendered. My roommate and I would sometimes do an entire meal of fried food in the Italian manner, a frito misto. These days I rarely eat fried foods except for fried zucchini blossoms and fried sage leaves in the summer.

Over my years of frying I have tried many different batters, with and without eggs (some with whole eggs mixed into the batter and others with the yolk used as part of the liquid and the stiffly beaten white folded in at the last minute to lighten the coating), with and without baking powder, and with club soda or seltzer in place of water or milk, among other variations. In the end, I settled on the simplest of batters that I had at Great Aunt Fidalma’s house in Tuscany: flour, salt and water.

It works beautifully, turning out a thin crunchy coating.

You can use the batter on most any kind of vegetable though watery vegetables like zucchini and mushrooms are challenging.

My only alternate coating (when I’m cooking in the Italian manner… which is most of the time) is the one my mother used for cauliflower. She would par-boil the cauliflower, cut it into florets, dip it in egg, and then coat it with fine, dry breadcrumbs. Because some of the breadcrumbs come off during the frying, the oil has to be strained after every few batches of florets are fried otherwise the loose breadcrumbs start to burn imparting a burnt taste to the cauliflower. It’s really pretty easy to accomplish as long as you’re prepared for it.

I set up a very fine mesh strainer over an empty pot and use it to strain the oil. A quick wipe of the pot used for frying and the strained oil can be poured right back in and the pot put back on the heat. The whole process takes less than 30 seconds.

I’ve always fried in a pot on the stove, never in a dedicated deep fryer. I’ve never even used a thermometer to test the temperature of the oil. I flick a drop of water on the oil and watch how it skitters across the top to judge when the oil is hot enough. There’s a lot of trial and error learning involved in this method so I’d recommend you invest in a deep-frying thermometer (or even a dedicated deep fryer) if you’re not already skilled at frying.

My two favorite pots for deep frying are a Lodge cast iron pot and an Indian-style karahee. The cast iron is better at holding the temperature steady but the karahee uses less oil because of its curved bottom. A karahee can only be used on a gas stove, however.

**This is the Indian-style Karahee that I brought back from Guyana in the 1970’s. Fifty-one percent of the population of Guyana trace their ancestry to the Indian subcontinent.**

Although I use lard for some baked goods, I don’t deep fry in in on a regular basis any longer. I use corn oil. I think it works a little better than other vegetable oils for frying. Results are even better if one adds a small amount of oil that was previously used for frying to the pot with the fresh oil.

Fried zucchini blossoms are always served informally in our house. Since they are best right after frying, with just a moment to cool down, everyone gathers in the kitchen, cocktails in hand. When the first batch comes out of the oil, the flowers are put on absorbent paper while the next batch is battered and put in the oil. The previous batch is then salted and passed around. It’s about one minute from the time the flowers come out of the oil until they are being eaten.

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Fried Zucchini Blossoms

These zucchini flowers are coated with the simplest of batters. The amount of water needed cannot be determined precisely as it will depend on the flour to some extent. Refrigerating the batter allows the flour to fully hydrate, after which it will need to be thinned with a bit more water. Cold batter also sticks to food better than warm batter. Gently scraping the battered flower on the edge of the bowl allows for the amount of batter to be controlled. The flowers should just brown slightly otherwise they can start to taste bitter. Zucchini flowers are very delicate and do not stand up well to rinsing under water so only wash them if absolutely necessary. One cup of flour will make enough batter for at least two dozen flowers.

Course

Appetizers and Nibbles

Cuisine

Italian

Prep Time

20 minutes

Cook Time

30 minutes

Passive Time

1 hour

Servings

persons

Ingredients

24 zucchini flowers
1 cup all purpose flour
1 teaspoon salt
3/4 cup water approximately
corn oil for frying

Course

Appetizers and Nibbles

Cuisine

Italian

Prep Time

20 minutes

Cook Time

30 minutes

Passive Time

1 hour

Servings

persons

Ingredients

24 zucchini flowers
1 cup all purpose flour
1 teaspoon salt
3/4 cup water approximately
corn oil for frying

Instructions

A batch of flowers ready to be cleaned.
To clean the flowers, remove the stem end by breaking the flower where it creases, about ½ inch above the stem.
Pull out the stamen and stigma.
Remove any green bits (calyx) at the base of the flower.
Lay the flowers on a tray or plate, cover lightly, and refrigerate until ready to use.
Mix the flour and the salt.
Add the water, a little at a time to the center of the flour, stirring in a circular motion with a fork to incorporate more and more of the flour.
Xxxx
Keep the flour and water mixture thick until all the flour is incorporated. The stiffness of the batter will break up any lumps that might form. You can tell from the ridges in this batter that it is thick. Thinner batter will have a smooth surface.
After a thick batter is formed, continue to add water, mixing well after each addition, until the batter thinly coats the fork.
Cover and refrigerate the batter for at least one hour and up to one day.
When ready to use, thin the batter with more water until it once again lightly coats a fork.
Bring oil to frying temperature, approximately 350°F.
Dip a flower into the batter, scraping off excess batter on the edge of the bowl.
Drop the battered flower into the batter and continue to add flowers, without crowding.
Turn the flowers frequently.
Just as they begin to turn golden, remove the flowers from the oil allowing excess oil to drip into the pan.
Put the flowers on absorbent paper. Batter the next batch and put the flowers in the oil.
Salt the previous batch and serve while still hot.
Repeat!

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Recipes

Auntie Helen’s Roman Chicken Cacciatore

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Pollo alla Cacciatora (Chicken Cacciatore, in English) means Chicken Hunter’s Style and there are as many styles as there are hunters and cooks.

I grew up eating a Southern Italian version in a red sauce with peppers and mushrooms.

This recipe, using anchovies and no vegetables, is from Rome and goes back to the late 1800’s at least. I learned it from Auntie Helen. Auntie Helen was actually the aunt of Eugene (Gene) d’Aquili, my undergraduate advisor at the University of Pennsylvania and the psychiatrist with whom I set up my psychiatric practice in Philadelphia many years later.

Gene’s grandparents left Rome around the turn of the 20th century and moved to Trenton, New Jersey with their four children, Guido, Helen, Louise and a fourth daughter who died shortly after the move.

Gene’s father, Guido, was an artist and part of what was sometimes referred to as the New Hope School after a town of the same name in Pennsylvania on the New Jersey border. He painted a series of Old King Cole murals similar to the ones Maxfield Parrish painted for the St. Regis in New York City.

Those murals ended up on the walls of my dining room in Berwyn, Pennsylvania. For several years, from early medical school until partway through my internship, I rented the carriage house on the d’Aquili estate in Berwyn. The murals were installed in the dining room after the d’Aquili family purchased them from the social club in Trenton that had originally commissioned them.

Here are some pictures of the murals.

There is a blog that features the murals and information about them, if you’re interested.

Here is a picture of my parents, standing in front of one of the murals in my dining room. I believe this was taken in May 1981 when I graduated medical school.

Auntie Helen and Auntie Louise never married. They both became school teachers and lived in Morrisville, New Jersey until the early 1980’s when they moved into the carriage house on the d’Aquili estate that I vacated after I bought my first house.

Auntie Helen was a wonderful cook. This recipe for pollo alla cacciatora came from her, and before her, from her mother. Don’t let the anchovies put you off, even if you don’t like anchovies. The “fishiness” cooks away leaving a savory, umami flavor. I will bet you that none of your guests will guess that there are anchovies in this dish.

In addition to her other wonderful Italian specialties, including brodetto, panpeppato, and cheese bread, the last of which unfortunately I do not have a recipe, among others, Auntie Helen made some American dishes that were fashionable at the time including Impossible Tuna Pie!

I want to give a shout out to Julie Paradise for reintroducing me to Impossible Pies. Julie is the master of the genre and her pecan version is going to end up on my table soon!

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Roman Chicken Cacciatore

As an alternative to cutting up a whole chicken, chicken parts can be used. Thighs work particularly well for the long, slow cooking technique. If using chicken parts, use about 3 pounds. This chicken goes well with polenta. I suggest using yellow cornmeal for a color contrast with the dark sauce. A link to my polenta recipe can be found in the Notes section following the recipe.

Course

Mains, Poultry

Cuisine

Italian

Prep Time

15 minutes

Cook Time

2 hours

Servings

people

Ingredients

1 3 1/2 to 4 pound chicken
3 cloves garlic
1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
1 x 2 ounce can anchovies
1 1/2 tablespoons red wine vinegar
1/4 cup water plus additional as needed
1/3 teaspoon dried oregano
salt to taste
black pepper freshly ground, to taste

Course

Mains, Poultry

Cuisine

Italian

Prep Time

15 minutes

Cook Time

2 hours

Servings

people

Ingredients

1 3 1/2 to 4 pound chicken
3 cloves garlic
1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
1 x 2 ounce can anchovies
1 1/2 tablespoons red wine vinegar
1/4 cup water plus additional as needed
1/3 teaspoon dried oregano
salt to taste
black pepper freshly ground, to taste

Instructions

Cut the chicken into pieces, legs, thighs, and breasts. You can cut the breasts in half crosswise if you like. Reserve the back and wings for another use.
Remove the skin from the chicken.
Bruise the garlic with the side of a chef's knife.
In a skillet large enough to comfortably hold the chicken, and that has a lid, heat the olive oil until it is almost smoking.
Add the chicken. Do not disturb the chicken until it is crusted and releases easily from the pan, 4-5 minutes.
Turn the chicken over. Add the bruised garlic to the pan. Brown the other side of the chicken, adjusting the heat as necessary to prevent the olive oil from smoking.
If the garlic starts getting dark brown, remove it before it burns. Reserve the browned garlic, however.
When the chicken is well browned on all sides (legs don’t really have “sides” so you will need to turn them around a bit), add the anchovies and their oil. They will splatter a bit.
Work the anchovies with a spoon so they start to disintegrate.
Have the cover ready. Turn the heat to low. Add the water and quickly cover the pan to reduce splattering. Wait 2-3 minutes until the rapid sizzling has slowed down.
Turn the chicken. Add the vinegar and return the browned garlic to the pan if you removed it earlier. If the water has evaporated when you remove the lid to add the vinegar, add another two tablespoons of water along with the vinegar and garlic. Add oregano and season with salt and pepper, to taste.
Braise covered for 1 ½ to 2 hours on gentle heat, turning every 20-30 minutes. Add water, two tablespoons at a time, whenever the liquid in the pan has evaporated.
Add an extra grinding of pepper before removing the chicken from the heat. Adjust salt if necessary.