September 18, 2017

When I was growing up, we mostly socialized within the extended family plus a very few close family friends (that’s you, Joe and Betty Slivosky!).

It was a time (the 60’s) and place (small-town Western Pennsylvania) where it was rare to call in advance of a visit. One just showed up. This usually happened in the evening after dinner, though almost never on Monday or Thursday when the stores downtown were open until 9 PM and we dressed and went shopping after dinner.

Everyone would sit around (usually in the kitchen) drinking coffee (with caffeine), chatting…and smoking. Oh, the smoking! Occasionally the men would drink beer but unless it was a holiday or celebration of some sort, hard liquor was a rarity.

On Sundays, visiting frequently occurred (or at least started) in the afternoon and there might be two or three stops before heading home.

I can’t tell you how many times I heard the same stories. It’s one of the ways I developed a connection with family members, like my maternal grandparents, who died when I was very young.

To be sure, sometimes my cousin Donna and I would abandon the adults and pursue some childhood activity but we still hung out in the kitchen much of the time.

Often times the conversation would veer towards food; things my grandmother would make, the huge platters of cannoli one of my great aunts would make, what was eaten on holidays, and on and on.

There was the oft-repeated reminder of how my grandfather could come home late at night with a group of friends and how my grandmother would cook for them near midnight. There were stories of my grandmother cleaning and cooking chicken feet. My mother would talk about the time she killed a chicken in the basement and it got away from her and ran, headless, around the room. My father would remind everyone that the only food he didn’t like was gnocchi.

Food was a central feature of our lives.

So was conversation.

There were also times I would just sit in the kitchen and chat with my mother for hours. Relatives and food were common topics of conversation. There were dishes my grandmother made that I heard about over and over but never tasted because my mother never made them for some inexplicable reason. One of them was a quickly sautéed veal chop with a pan sauce made of the drippings in the pan, crushed canned tomatoes, peas, and seasonings. Back in the days when I cooked veal, I actually made it. Now I do it with pork chops.

The other dish that stands out in my memory from these conversations is Tiella. My mother talked of it frequently but never made it. The instructions were basic, a layer of pasta, a layer of potatoes, a layer of zucchini, and a can of tomatoes crushed by hand and poured on top. The whole thing was then baked. There wasn’t much of a discussion of which seasonings to use or proportions of ingredients. It was just assumed it would have garlic (of course it would have garlic) and the herbs that were commonly used in our family. Proportions…well…it just needed to look “right.”

For the number of times my mother rhapsodized about this dish, I can’t figure out why she never made it.

The first time I tried to make it was in the early 1990’s at our little house on Griffin Street in Santa Fe. That first time around, it didn’t live up to the hype, for sure, but it christened the house in an odd way.

In November 1992 my mother, my husband’s mother, and my husband’s grandmother traveled to Santa Fe with us for Thanksgiving week. We looked at property and fell for a little (1151 square foot) house on Griffin Street. My mother was terminally ill at the time. When we got back home, my mother insisted that we use her money for the down payment, which we did. She kept saying that she wanted to live long enough to return to that house in the spring. It didn’t happen. She died in early January.

All of the kitchen gear, china, and glassware for the house on Griffin came from my mother’s house. So, it was fitting that I should make this dish for the first time using my mother’s kitchenware in a house that we owned thanks to her.

It took me many years of working (off and on) on the seasonings and proportions to get it to taste great. (Well, I think it does.) The only real liberty I took with the dish is to use fresh tomatoes rather than canned when I make this in the summer.

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Tiella (Southern Italian Vegetable and Pasta Casserole)

This is a wonderful late summer dish when tomatoes are at their peak. If you make it at other times, use a 28 ounce can of whole tomatoes in place of the tomato puree and fresh tomatoes. Pour the liquid in the can over the potatoes instead of the puree. Crush the tomatoes by hand, add the seasonings described for fresh tomatoes, and arrange the crushed tomatoes on top.

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Prep Time 1 hour hr

Cook Time 2 hours hrs

Total Time 3 hours hrs 30 minutes mins

Servings: 8 people

Ingredients Method Notes

Ingredients

  

1x2x3x?

• 5 ounces ditalini pasta
• 21 ounces russet potatoes peeled and sliced ¼ inch thick
• 22 ounces small zucchini peeled and sliced ½ inch thick
• 2 pounds ripe tomatoes sliced ⅓ inch thick
• 1 cup tomato puree preferably homemade (see note)
• 3/4 cup grated Parmesan cheese
• 4 cloves garlic crushed
• 3/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
• 4-5 cloves garlic minced
• 1 tablespoon minced fresh rosemary
• 3 tablespoons minced fresh oregano
• 1/4 cup fresh basil cut into chiffonade
• 1/4 cup minced fresh parsley
• 1 cup breadcrumbs made from day old Italian or French bread
• salt
• black pepper freshly ground

Method

 

1. Preheat the oven to 350°F.
2. Combine the olive oil and crushed garlic in a small sauté pan. Sauté garlic until lightly browned. Remove the garlic and reserve the oil.
3. Put the raw ditalini in the bottom of a deep, circular casserole, approximately 10 inches in diameter. The pasta should form a single layer with a fair amount of extra room for it to expand.
4. Add 2 tablespoons of Parmesan cheese, ¼ of the minced garlic, and 2 tablespoons of the garlic oil and mix well.
   
5. In a bowl, toss the sliced potatoes with half the rosemary, ⅓ of the oregano, ¼ of the basil, 2 tablespoons of Parmesan cheese, ¼ of the minced garlic, 2 tablespoons of the garlic oil, and a generous amount of salt and pepper.
   
6. Arrange the potatoes neatly in overlapping layers on top of the ditalini. Do not wash the bowl.
7. Season the tomato puree with salt and pour over the potatoes.
8. In the same bowl used for the potatoes, toss the zucchini with the remaining oregano, ¼ of the basil, the remaining rosemary, 2 tablespoons of Parmesan cheese, ¼ of the minced garlic, 2 tablespoons of the garlic oil, and a generous amount of salt and pepper.
9. Arrange the zucchini on top of the potatoes. Do not wash the bowl.
   
10. Neatly arrange half the tomatoes on top of the zucchini. Season with half the remaining minced garlic, half the remaining basil, and salt and pepper.
11. Arrange the remaining tomatoes on top and season with salt and pepper as well as the remaining garlic, basil, and all the parsley.
    
12. Put the tiella in the preheated oven.
13. Remove the crusts from several slices of day-old Italian or French bread. Whiz the bread in a food processor to make coarse crumbs.
    
14. While the tiella bakes, toss the breadcrumbs with the remaining garlic oil in the bowl used for the potatoes and zucchini.
15. After the tiella has baked for 90 minutes, sprinkle the oiled crumbs on top and bake till golden, approximately 30 minutes more.
16. Allow to rest at least 30 minutes before serving. The tiella can be served warm or at room temperature. It can also be reheated in the oven briefly before serving, if desired.
    

Notes

Here’s the link for my recipe for homemade tomato puree (passata di pomodoro).

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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!

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Prep Time 1 hour hr 15 minutes mins

Total Time 9 hours hrs 15 minutes mins

Servings: 8 quarts

Ingredients Method Notes

Ingredients

  

1x2x3x?

• 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

Method

 

1. Wash and dry the peppers.
   
2. Cut off the stem ends.
3. Cut the peppers crosswise into rings a little more than 1/8 inch thick.
   
4. 
5. Cut the celery into ¼ inch dice.
   
6. In a non-reactive container large enough to hold all the ingredients, combine the vinegar, water, oil, garlic, salt, and oregano. Mix well.
7. Add the sliced peppers and diced celery.
8. Mix thoroughly. Cover and allow to sit at room temperature for 8 hours or overnight.
   
9. Using a slotted spoon, ladle the peppers and celery into clean jars.
10. 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.
11. If there is not quite enough liquid to cover the peppers make a small amount more using the same proportions.
12. Cover and refrigerate until ready to use.
    

Notes

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September 8, 2017

Pasta with a sauce of uncooked tomatoes, herbs and aromatics is one of the delights of late summer. While this is very easy to make, and only a few tomatoes are needed, the tomatoes must be vine-ripened.

If you have just one tomato plant you’ll probably have enough tomatoes to make a batch of Salsa Cruda. Farmers Market tomatoes are a good option this time of year, too.

I make this with our home-grown tomatoes which are always red but using some of the amazing heirloom tomatoes in colors of yellow, green, or purple available in farmers markets would make a dramatic sauce.

If you can’t get vine-ripe tomatoes, or you want to make a similar sauce at a time other than late summer, you can use two or three roasted red peppers in place of the tomatoes. I’ll be posting a recipe for roasted peppers next month, after tomato season is over. In a pinch, you can buy a jar of good-quality roasted peppers.

Although this recipe is not a traditional “family of origin” recipe it is one that I have been making for almost 30 years. I consider it to be one of my traditions.

While you can still get vine-ripened tomatoes, give this easy and delicious recipe a try.

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Pasta con Salsa Cruda (Pasta with Uncooked Tomato Sauce)

This makes enough sauce for one pound of pasta. Use pasta with a shape that will hold the sauce, such a small shells or fusilli. Although you can make the sauce in the time it takes the pasta water to come to a boil, it is better if the sauce is allowed to sit at room temperature for about an hour to allow the flavors to meld. Since the sauce is not hot, it is important to warm the serving bowl with boiling water just before using. I usually put some of the pasta-cooking water to warm the bowl. The optional aromatics (hot peppers, kalamata olives, and blue cheese) are really optional but definitely help to round out the flavor.

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Prep Time 15 minutes mins

Cook Time 15 minutes mins

Total Time 1 hour hr 30 minutes mins

Servings: 4 people

Ingredients Method Notes

Ingredients

  

1x2x3x?

• 1 pound of short pasta such as fusilli or small shells
• 2 pounds of vine-ripe tomatoes coarsely chopped
• 1/3 cup olive oil
• 3 cloves garlic coarsely chopped
• 1-2 fresh hot peppers coarsely chopped, such as Serrano, Jalapeno or Cayenne, optional
• 1/2 cup basil leaves
• 1/4 cup parsley leaves
• 2 tablespoons Parmesan cheese
• 2 tablespoons chopped Kalamata olives optional
• 2 tablespoons blue cheese such as gorgonzola, optional
• 2 teaspoons salt for sauce plus more for cooking pasta
• black pepper freshly ground to taste

Method

 

1. Coarsely chop the hot pepper.
   
2. Coarsely chop the garlic.
   
3. Combine olive oil, garlic, and hot peppers, if using, in the food processor.
   
4. Process until finely chopped.
   
5. Add basil, parsley, Parmesan cheese and Kalamata olives, if using.
   
6. 
7. 
8. 
9. Pulse a few times to chop.
   
10. Add tomatoes, blue cheese, if using, salt, and black pepper and pulse until finely chopped, but not pureed.
    
11. There should definitely be some texture to the sauce.
    
12. Bring three quarts of water to a rolling boil.
13. Season the water with 1/3 cup of salt.
14. Add the pasta and cook until al dente.
15. When the pasta is done, reserve about ½ cup of the pasta-cooking liquid to thin the sauce if needed.
16. Drain the pasta.
17. Drain the hot water from the serving bowl. Add the pasta and sauce to the warmed bowl. Toss well.
18. If needed, thin the sauce with some of the reserved pasta water. This will likely not be the case but it is always a good idea to have some pasta-cooking water available just in case.

Notes

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September 4, 2017

Sometimes in the late summer my mother and Annie Castagnola would get together to “put up” tomatoes. I don’t really remember paying much attention to the process but I was fascinated by the jars and jars of red orbs sitting on an enamel table in Annie’s garage at the end of the day.

Annie lived in a jewel-box of a mid-century-modern house on a quiet residential street in Westmont, a suburb of Johnstown, PA where I grew up. She was always immaculately made-up, her hair coiffed, and frequently dressed in muumuus.

She was also a chain-smoker. There was a very large abalone shell on the coffee table on her side porch that served as a communal ashtray. I was always amazed at the number of cigarette butts that would collect in that shell over the course of a visit.

Though Annie was a very good cook, she was mostly known for her baking. Some of you may remember me mentioning her in an early blog about Totos, Italian Chocolate Spice Cookies.

Growing up we used a lot of canned tomatoes. My mother made her long-simmered Southern Italian Style Ragu most Sundays. Each batch used about a quart of canned tomatoes. The number of jars of tomatoes that my mother and Annie “put up” was nowhere near the 50 or so that would have been needed just to supply my family’s Sunday dinner table, let alone what Annie needed.

Those home-canned tomatoes, though, were a treat when they were used and a potent reminder of cultural heritage and a more agrarian family history.

These days I turn our home-grown tomatoes into passata (puree) rather than canning whole tomatoes. It’s easier. The results can be frozen successfully eliminating pressure canning at my 8000-foot elevation. And, since there aren’t enough home grown tomatoes to supply all of our tomato-product needs (canned tomatoes, tomato puree and tomato paste being the primary ones) I’ve opted for the most expedient option.

Though we had more tomato plants when we lived in Chicago, I still use the same field mix of canestrini, lunghi, and beefsteak tomatoes to make passata.

The canestrini, an heirloom variety, are grown from seeds that we brought back from Italy about 20 years ago. They were given to us by my husband’s Great Uncle Faliero (Great Aunt Fidalma’s husband). Every year, seeds are lovingly removed from several tomatoes, spread out on waxed paper, and allowed to dry. Since these are heirloom, and not hybrid, tomatoes, they breed true. The seeds are used to start the following year’s tomato seedlings.

Canestrini are meaty and don’t have an excess of jelly surrounding the seeds. They can also be ugly if one’s vision of a tomato is a perfectly formed red orb. The taste, however, is superior.

The lunghi seeds are imported from Italy and are available domestically as are the beefsteak tomato seeds. Mostly we grow the beefsteak tomatoes for eating but there are always more than enough so they get put into the field mix for the passata.

Making passata is really a breeze compared to canning whole tomatoes or making tomato paste. The tomatoes are washed, quartered, cored and coarsely chopped before being simmered into a pulp. They are then passed through an old-fashioned food mill, a step that only takes a few minutes, which eliminates the seeds and skin. They cook for about 2 ½ hours but it is mostly hands off other than the occasional stir.

Leaving the seeds and surrounding jelly in the chopped tomatoes means that the cooking time is a bit longer than it might otherwise be but there are two distinct advantages. Getting the tomatoes ready to cook is really quick. Perhaps more important, though, is that the jelly surrounding the seeds contains loads of naturally occurring glutamates which boost the savory “umami” quotient of the tomatoes.

If you have access to vine-ripe tomatoes, grab yourself 15 or 20 pounds and give this recipe a try. You won’t be sorry!

Click here for a video showing the process of making tomato puree.

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Passata di Pomodoro (Homemade Tomato Puree)

This easy-to-make tomato puree can be frozen for later use. It brings a blast of late-summer goodness to winter meals. Ten to 20 pounds of tomatoes is a good amount to start with. If you are planning on using more than 20 pounds, I would either divide the tomatoes among several pots or find an extra-wide rondeau (a wide shallow pot) so that there is enough surface area to foster evaporation.

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Prep Time 20 minutes mins

Cook Time 3 hours hrs

Total Time 3 hours hrs 20 minutes mins

Servings: 1 quart

Ingredients Method Notes

Ingredients

  

1x2x3x?

• 15-20 pounds vine-ripe tomatoes or however much you want
• salt 1 teaspoon for each quart of chopped tomatoes

Method

 

1. Wash and dry the tomatoes.
   
2. Cut the tomatoes into quarters from top to bottom.
   
3. Remove the hard bit where the stem attaches and any bad areas.
   
4. Coarsely chop the tomatoes.
   
5. Put the tomatoes into a heavy-bottomed, non-reactive pot (such as stainless steel).
6. Add one teaspoon of salt for every quart of chopped tomatoes.
7. Cover the pot and bring to a boil over medium-high heat. This will take approximately 10-20 minutes depending on volume of tomatoes.
   
8. Remove the cover. Stir the tomatoes.
9. Boil gently, uncovered, for 2 ½ to 2 ¾ hours, stirring every 15-20 minutes. It takes a bit of practice to estimate how much to concentrate the tomatoes to get the desired thickness of puree but don’t sweat it, the tomatoes can be cooked further.
   
10. Pass the cooked tomatoes through a food mill to remove skin and seeds.
    
11. If the puree seems too thin, return it to the pot and cook it a bit longer after passing it through the food mill.
    
12. Portion and freeze or use as desired.
    

Notes

A rondeau is useful if you are going to prepare more than 20 pounds of tomatoes as it provides more surface area for evaporation than a deep sauce pan.

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August 30, 2017

As I am writing this, my husband’s Great Aunt Fidalma and cousin Massimo are visiting us from Tuscany. We’ve had quite a week of eating and drinking.  Every night, actually, was something like a party. At the lowest head count we were 6, but more often 9, and once 20!

Last night I fried a bunch of zucchini flowers to accompany cocktails. Zia Fidalma made little elongated meatballs (polpette) with ground beef and mortadella seasoned with onions, garlic, and herbs. I made risotto with mushrooms and my mother-in-law made long-simmered green beans in tomato sauce, something like my green beans in tomato sauce with bacon.

While we were sitting at the table after dinner doing what Italians do (talking about growing food, talking about preparing food, talking about food we’ve eaten, and talking about the next meal) Zia Fidalma started to describe a dish of thinly sliced beef cooked in tomato sauce with capers.

“Carne di Manzo in Umido!” I said.  She concurred.

I told her that Carne di Manzo in Umido was, in fact, the long-planned blog post for Wednesday.

It is a dish I had at her home in Tuscany about 20 years ago. I wrote down the recipe in a combination of English and Italian and American and Metric measures sitting at her kitchen table. It took me a while to get it right but I think I’ve nailed it.

Here’s a quick rundown of the food we’ve had over the past week:

August 23rd: Pasta with Zucchini, Chicken Thighs braised in Red Wine and Balsamic Vinegar, Salad, Cherries in Brandy, Homemade Limoncello, and Homemade Bay Leaf Liqueur (being posted in October).

August 24th: Tiella (being posted in September), Grilled Hot and Sweet Italian Sausage, Grilled Broccolini drizzled with Olive Oil, and more Cherries in Brandy, Homemade Limoncello, and Homemade Bay Leaf Liqueur.

August 25th: Zia Fidalma’s Rouladen (German, I know, but Zia Fidalma lived in Germany for many years), Mashed Potatoes, Corn on the Cob and, you guessed it, more Cherries in Brandy, Homemade Limoncello, and Homemade Bay Leaf Liqueur.

August 26th (for 20 people): A Massive Antipasto Platter thanks to cousins Paul and Kim Phillips (and a shopping spree at Cheesemongers of Santa Fe), Baked Penne with Ham, Peas, Mushrooms and Roasted Garlic Besciamella, Porchetta, Corn Sautéed in Butter, Sformato di Spinaci, and Italian Almond Torta with Raspberries and Plum Crostata (thanks to Rich DePippo). Then there were those ever-present Cherries in Brandy, Homemade Limoncello, and Homemade Bay Leaf Liqueur.

August 27th brought some sanity as we had leftovers from the 26th. (We could still feed a small army with the remains of Paul and Kim’s Antipasto Shopping Spree.)

August 28th: As described above, meatballs, risotto, and green beans.

I neglected to mention that we went through cases of wine and then there was a dark chocolate cake from Chocolate Maven Bakery in Santa Fe that kept making its appearance most nights right before we broke out those cherries.

Eating will slow down a bit now that the relatives have left. As I finish writing this the house is perfumed from a large pot of chicken broth that will get portioned and frozen ready to be pulled out of the freezer in the coming weeks for wave after wave of risotto made with the freshest vegetables the market has to offer.

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Carne di Manzo in Umido

Thinly sliced beef is browned and then simmered in the barest amount of tomato sauce with an array of herbs. A bit of capers round out the flavors.

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Prep Time 20 minutes mins

Cook Time 2 hours hrs

Total Time 3 hours hrs 20 minutes mins

Servings: 6 people

Ingredients Method Notes

Ingredients

  

1x2x3x?

• 2 1/4 pounds sirloin or round steak sliced approximately 1/8 inch thick
• 1 1/2 cups all purpose flour
• 4 cloves garlic
• 1 cup tomato puree
• 1/4 cup dry red wine
• 4-5 sage leaves preferably fresh
• 2 sprigs rosemary or 1/2 teaspoon dry
• 2 sprigs oregano or 1/2 teaspoon dry
• 1 teaspoon fresh nepita or substitute 1/3 teaspoon of dried thyme
• 2 bay leaves preferably fresh
• 3 1/2 teaspoons salt divided
• black pepper freshly ground to taste
• 1-2 chile peppers optional
• 1/4 cup salted capers

Method

 

1. Herbs, clockwise from top right: nepita, bay leaf, sage, rosemary, oregano.
   
2. Combine the flour and 1 ½ teaspoons of salt. Mix well.
3. Pound the steak lightly with a mallet.
   
4. 
5. Season the steak with salt and pepper. Cut the pieces in half if they are too large after pounding.
   
6. Dredge the steak in the seasoned flour and reserve. It is best to do this about an hour in advance as the flour will adhere to the meat better.
   
7. Bruise the garlic with the side of a large chef’s knife.
   
8. Put a thin film of olive oil on the bottom of a very large sauté pan. Heat over medium high heat.
   
9. When hot, add as much of the beef as will fit without crowding in a single layer. Add half the garlic.
   
10. Sauté the meat and garlic until the meat is browned on both sides.
    
11. Remove the browned meat to a platter. Repeat with the remaining meat and garlic, in however many batches are needed.
12. If the garlic starts to turn dark brown, remove it or it will become bitter.
13. When all the meat is browned return it to the pan with any accumulated juices. Leave the cooking oil in the pan.
14. Try to arrange the meat so that the pieces overlap rather than putting one piece of meat directly on top of another.
15. Add all the other ingredients except the capers.
16. Cover and simmer gently until meat is tender flipping the meat every 20 minutes or so. It will take at about one and one-half to two hours to get the meat tender depending on the cut and your elevation.
    
17. Add water from time to time if the sauce boils away.
18. Rinse the salt off the capers and add them during last five minutes of cooking. Taste and adjust salt and pepper.
19. There should be a very small amount of sauce along with oil that is red from the tomato. Do not remove the oil, it adds significantly to the mouthfeel of the sauce.
    

Notes

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August 25, 2017

Mike Abramson says his carrot cake is the best ever.

Janet Carlson doesn’t necessarily agree.

For now, the controversy will need to simmer as I only have Mike’s (Justifiably Famous) Carrot Cake recipe, though I have suggested to Janet that she and Mike have a carrot cake bake-off.

Mike makes no apologies for having stolen the recipe from Tom Grier, originally of Grier, Georgia.

The story goes something like this…

In the 1970’s a group of four friends from San Francisco bought a weekend house, they named Aros, near Sebastopol, California. The four owners rotated use of the house, each getting it for a week at a time but also sometimes showing up there together to host parties as in the photo below.

Over the years, ownership of the house shifted as some individuals sold their interest and others bought in.

At one point, Tom Grier was the youngest owner.

The group met on a quarterly basis in San Francisco to discuss maintenance issues related to the house. As with use of the house, these meetings were held in rotation at the owners’ homes in San Francisco.

Whenever Tom hosted the meeting, he served carrot cake, which Mike believes originated as a Grier family recipe. Tom shared the recipe with Mike and the rest is history. Mike’s (Justifiably Famous) Carrot Cake was born.

But for Janet’s assertion that Mike’s might not be the best carrot cake in the world, well, we’ll just have to wait for the bake-off.

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Mike's (Justifiably Famous) Carrot Cake

This is almost a cross between a spice cake and a carrot cake. The frosting is generous and could easily be reduced by one-third. This recipe is for sea level. If there is interest in adjustments for high altitude, let me know and I’ll post them.

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Prep Time 1 hour hr

Cook Time 40 minutes mins

Total Time 3 hours hrs 40 minutes mins

Servings: 12 people

Ingredients Method Notes

Ingredients

  

1x2x3x?

Cake

• 2 cups all purpose flour
• 2 teaspoons baking powder
• 1 1/2 teaspoons baking soda
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 1 tablespoon cinnamon
• 1/2 teaspoon ground cloves
• 1/2 teaspoon (scant) ground allspice
• 1/2 teaspoon (scant) ground nutmeg
• 2 cups packed brown sugar
• 1 1/2 cups vegetable oil
• 4 eggs
• 2 cups packed coarsely grated carrots
• 1 x 8 ounce can crushed pineapple in juice
• 1 cup chopped walnuts
• 3/4 cup raisins

Frosting

• 1 pound cream cheese
• 1/2 pound butter
• 1 cup powdered sugar
• 2 teaspoons vanilla
• zest of 2 lemons
• 2 tablespoons lemon juice from approximately ½ lemon

Method

 

Cake

1. Butter and flour a 9” x 13” baking pan.
2. Grate the carrots on the tear-drop holes of a box grater.
   
3. Coarsely chop the nuts.
   
4. Combine the flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, cinnamon, cloves, allspice, nutmeg, and brown sugar in the bowl of a stand mixer. Mix with the paddle.
5. Add the oil and eggs to the flour mixture. Blend until combined.
6. Add the carrots and crushed pineapple with the juice. Mix thoroughly.
   
7. Add the walnuts and raisins. Stir to combine.
   
8. Pour into the prepared pan. Bake at 350°F for 35-40 minutes or until the center springs back when lightly touched.
   
9. Cool completely in the pan before frosting.

Frosting

1. Beat cream cheese and butter until light using the paddle of a stand mixer.
2. Beat in all other ingredients.
3. Frost cake when cool.
   

Notes

For recipes that call for solid vegetable shortening, such as Crisco, I use coconut oil is due to concerns about the negative health effects of hydrogenated fats.

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August 21, 2017

Talk about a dish that simply wouldn’t exist in any recognizable form without new world crops, calabacitas is it! Squash, corn, and chile are all new world plants.

Calabacitas is Spanish for zucchini but is also the name given to a dish of zucchini, corn, and (usually) green chile.

Often served as a side dish, calabacitas makes an awesome burrito, too. Accompany it with some frijoles (and probably a tortilla or three) and you’ve got a great high-protein vegetarian dinner. Leave out the cheese and it’s vegan! Truth be told, I’m plus-minus on the cheese in any case. When serving this for company I usually sprinkle cheese on top as in this recipe, but if it’s just for “us,” cheese isn’t usually even a thought.

This is the time of year to serve the most sublime calabacitas possible as zucchini, corn, green chile, and tomatoes are all in the farmers’ market. But calabacitas is too good to be had only a few weeks a year and, honestly, versions made with frozen corn, canned tomatoes, and roasted green chile that you’ve squirreled away in your freezer along with the ever-present zucchini in the produce aisle are too good to pass up any time of year.

For me, calabacitas shares a serious failing with succotash. They are both great ideas in my estimation but the execution often falls flat.

When I set out to finally perfect a version of calabacitas that I felt comfortable serving, I thought back on all the less-than-perfect renditions I’d had since I first set foot in New Mexico in 1991.

The litany of offenses includes being too watery, being too rich, having huge chunks of zucchini that seem mismatched next to corn kernels, being under-seasoned and being aggressively seasoned.

That set out a plan of action for me. The zucchini should be cut approximately the same size as corn kernels. There needed to be a minimum amount of liquid in the finished dish. Loads of cream or butter or cheese were out of the question. The seasoning should complement the vegetables, not assume control of the dish.

Zucchini (the namesake vegetable) and corn were a given. Pretty much everything else was up for grabs. Tomatoes, which are sometimes included, seemed right for color and a bit of acidic brightness that the zucchini and corn lack. They have the added bonus of being another New World crop. Roasted green chile, also sometimes included, was right for several reasons. It screamed “New Mexico,” it would add a bit of complimentary smokiness to the blend, and, honestly, I’m a chile-head.

My preference was for hot or extra-hot chile. This is wrong for several reasons. First, calabacitas is not traditionally a spicy dish. Second, after one of the dinners where I tested out my evolving recipe, one of the guests said that it was unfortunate that the entire “calabacitas conversation” that evening centered on how hot it was and not on how good it was.

In cooking I prefer to bow to tradition but if there’s ever a place where I butt heads with tradition, it’s in making dishes spicy. But I decided there and then that I should follow tradition and use mild chile in my calabacitas.

Finally I was on to the aromatics and seasoning. Onion and garlic are my go-to combination unless there is some compelling reason for one or the other (usually based on tradition). The herbs eluded me for a while. I really wanted to use Mexican Oregano (which isn’t actually oregano) because of its New World origins but it just seemed to overpower the dish. In the end, I decided that a modest amount of Mediterranean Oregano played best in the sandbox with the other ingredients.

Let me know what you think of my rendition of a New Mexico classic.

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Calabacitas: A New Mexican Classic

Traditionally calabacitas is not a spicy dish so it is best to use mild roasted green chile unless you and all your eaters are chile heads. Bacon fat gives a great flavor but olive oil or other vegetable oil is fine, too. Frozen corn works well as there are so many other flavors in the dish but using fresh corn cut off the cob is a definite treat. I prefer to thaw frozen corn before cooking. Ice crystals can sometimes carry a "freezer" taste and rinsing them off can eliminate it. Also, it is easier to time the cooking of the corn in combination with other ingredients if it is not frozen when cooking starts. Rotel packs tomatoes in 10 ounce cans and they’re a bit of a Southwestern classic in and of themselves. In a pinch feta cheese can be used instead of Cotija

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Prep Time 40 minutes mins

Cook Time 30 minutes mins

Total Time 1 hour hr 10 minutes mins

Servings: 8 people

Ingredients Method Notes

Ingredients

  

1x2x3x?

• 1 1/2 onions diced
• 4-5 cloves garlic minced
• 3-4 tablespoons rendered bacon fat or olive oil
• 4 cups zucchini cut in ¼ inch dice
• 4 cups corn kernels
• 1 cup roasted green chile peeled, seeded, and chopped
• 2 x 10 ounce cans diced tomatoes or 2 1/2 cups diced fresh tomatoes
• 1/2 teaspoon dried oregano
• salt to taste
• black pepper freshly ground, to taste
• 1/2 cup crumbled Cotija cheese for serving

Method

 

1. Dice the zucchini.
   
2. Thaw the corn under running water.
   
3. Roasted New Mexico green chile.
   
4. Peeled and seeded chile, ready to be chopped.
   
5. Sauté the onion until translucent.
6. Add the garlic and continue to cook until the onion is golden but not brown.
7. Add the zucchini and sauté until the zucchini is hot.
8. Add the corn, green chile, tomatoes, oregano, salt, and pepper.
   
9. 
10. Simmer until the liquid has evaporated and the zucchini and corn are cooked, about 10-15 minutes, depending on your preference.
    
11. Adjust oregano, salt and pepper in the last few minutes of cooking.
12. Serve sprinkled with crumbled Cotija cheese.
    

Notes

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August 16, 2017

I moved full-time from Chicago to Santa Fe in early 2012. I still get asked if I miss anything about Chicago. I think Chicago is a wonderful city but, honestly, the only things I miss are related to food. I miss really good Italian restaurants and I miss the abundance of specialty food shopping.

Go backwards to the late 80’s when I moved from Philadelphia to Chicago (with a one-year stint in Tucson in-between). It was pretty easy for me to find replacements for favorite restaurants and specialty food shopping. It was all but impossible to replace New Jersey farm stands and especially fresh corn, Silver Queen Corn, to be exact.

There I was in the heartland, awash in corn and soybeans, and there was no really good corn-on-the-cob to be had. It was a sad, sad day when I realized something as simple as good corn-on-the cob was basically gone from my table.

To be sure, I bought and cooked corn-on-the-cob but it was never the same.

Not only is Silver Queen an amazing variety of corn but farm stands in New Jersey (at least way back then) were set up on the road alongside the farm. The corn was on the stalk mere hours before it was sold. It was ultra-fresh.

I was actually so enamored of Silver Queen Corn when I lived in Philadelphia that I bought an amateur piece of art simply because of the subject matter. See below.

Then, one day, Jim Nutter prepared corn in a Southern style that compensated for the absence of Silver Queen Corn in my life: Corn Fried in Butter.  I always refer to this as Corn Sautéed in Butter but a Southern cook would most likely refer to it as “fried.”

The method came from his husband’s mother, Mildred Burgess Hamill. Mrs. Burgess, as she was known, ruled her kitchen. One of the very few times Phil Burgess was allowed to help his mother in the kitchen, it was shucking corn for this dish.

The dish is pure simplicity: corn and butter, seasoned with salt and pepper. Sure, you can gussie it up with cream or spice it up with jalapeno peppers but I like it best in its pure state. This two-ingredient recipe (salt and pepper don’t count, really, as ingredients) goes beyond the sum of its parts. I can’t explain why. It just does.

Traditionally, Italians did not eat much fresh corn. Polenta, yes (in the north) but fresh corn, rarely. I made this dish 20-some years ago when my husband’s Great Aunt Fidalma and Great Uncle Faliero were visiting Chicago from Tuscany. Not only did they like it, but Zia Fidalma was fascinated by the tool I used to remove the corn kernels. After seeing me do one ear of corn, she decided to take over and do all the remaining ones!

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Fresh Corn Sautéed in Butter

This is an elegant way to serve fresh corn that preserves all of its peak-of-season goodness. You can make it extra-rich by adding a few tablespoons of heavy cream and stirring to incorporate just before removing the corn from the heat, if you would like. You can also change up the flavor profile by adding a finely diced jalapeno pepper at the beginning, as Jim Nutter often does. A pinch of sugar sometimes helps to improve the flavor if the corn is not farm-stand fresh. Some Southern cooks might cook this longer but since really fresh corn tastes good raw, long cooking is not necessary.

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Prep Time 15 minutes mins

Cook Time 10 minutes mins

Total Time 25 minutes mins

Servings: 6 people

Ingredients Method Notes

Ingredients

  

1x2x3x?

• 6 ears of corn
• 5 tablespoons butter
• salt to taste
• black pepper freshly ground, to taste

Method

 

1. Cut the corn kernels off the cobs.
   
2. 
3. 
4. 
5. Scrape the cobs with a knife to release any juice.
   
6. Put the corn and butter in a heavy-bottomed sauté pan.
   
7. Season with salt and pepper to taste.
8. Heat gently to warm the corn and butter.
9. Cook on medium for approximately 3-5 minutes after the butter melts and the corn “starts dancing” in the butter, stirring frequently. Do not brown the corn or butter.
   
10. The finished dish: Corn Fried in Butter.
    

Notes

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August 11, 2017

Italians love putting fruit in liquor. Cherries. Grapes. Prunes. The list goes on.

This practice meshes nicely with the Italian practice of making homemade cordials. (For example, see the post on homemade limoncello.) The liquor in which the fruit macerates becomes, in essence, a cordial that can be drunk on its own or with the fruit.

I learned to make cherries in liquor from my mother-in-law. She learned from her mother.  She even remembers  her grandmother making them. You can bet the chain of cherries in brandy goes back way further than that. She does grapes, too, in exactly the same way.

Here’s a picture of my in-laws with my (now) husband circa 1959. Pretty Italian, huh?

My mother-in-law hails from the little town of Treppo Grande way north of Venice. Treppo Grande is in Friuli which is known for its wine, especially white wines.

They also make a mean grappa in Friuli. After all, you’ve got to do something with all that leftover grape pomace from making wine.  It can be fermented one more time and distilled into an Italian version of white lightening.

Actually preserving fruit in alcohol had a long tradition in Europe. Americans may be most familiar with the German tradition of Rumtopf. Traditionally, Rumtopf is made from an array of fruit, using the best of what ripens in sequence from early summer through early fall, mixed with over-proof rum and sugar. In addition to being made from a mixture of fruits, the proportion of sugar used in Rumtopf is much greater than would be used in Italian alcohol-preserved fruits.

Rumtopf makes a great topping for ice cream or cake. In college I even used it as the fruit layer in upside-down cake.

Cherries and grapes preserved in alcohol (we use brandy or grappa) will keep for years though at some point the texture starts to suffer. Traditionally, these fruits would be put up in the summer for consumption during Christmastime. Some years we make such a supply of them that we work through them for years afterwards.

Popping one of these cherries into a Manhattan is a real treat!

This is what our current stash of cherries and grapes in liquor looks like. We have “vintages” dating back a few years, including cherries that we picked from cherry trees belonging to Rich DePippo and Doug Howe as well as Bruce Donnell.

The traditional way to serve this is as a digestive after dinner. Put a few cherries or grapes in a cordial or shot glass and add a bit of the liquid from the jar. Drink the liquid then roll the fruit, one at a time, into your mouth. You’ll need to extrude the cherry pit after freeing it from the flesh.

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Cherries in Brandy

Use the best, peak season fruit you can find. Cherries and grapes work equally well in this recipe. The amount of sugar is a matter of preference but I find these proportions work well. We’ve made this using domestic brandy and French brandy. Honestly, I don’t think the price differential of imported brandy is justified. Grappa is also a traditional spirit but, again, you’d be looking for a pedestrian, but drinkable, grappa, not one of the über-expensive artisanal grappas. The recipe is infinitely expandable and very quick to pull together. If your jars are larger, just increase the sugar. I have collected an (almost) endless supply of these jars from French jams and use them over and over.

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Prep Time 10 minutes mins

Total Time 10 minutes mins

Servings: 6 persons

Ingredients Method Notes

Ingredients

  

1x2x3x?

• Cherries or grapes enough to fill a jar that holds 12 liquid ounces.
• 1 tablespoon sugar
• Brandy or grappa to fill the jar

Method

 

1. Wash the fruit and dry thoroughly.
2. Remove the stems from the cherries.
3. Put the fruit into the jar, fitting it in snugly but not smashing it.
   
4. Add the sugar.
   
5. Fill jar with brandy or grappa to cover the fruit.
   
6. Put the lid on the jar.
7. Turn the jar a few times a day until the sugar is fully dissolved.
8. Put the jar in a cool, dark place and forget about it for 3-4 months.
9. When ready to serve, put two cherries in a cordial glass along with some of the liquid.
   

Notes

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August 7, 2017

It’s Saturday morning, August 5th and I’m sitting on an airplane writing this post.  I’m bound for Baltimore to visit the younger of my two nephews and his wife and their son.  I have meetings in Washington, DC on Monday and Tuesday so I’m taking this opportunity to visit.

The family members and relatives with whom I am closest are scattered around and I don’t see enough of any of them.

What does all of this have to do with green beans, you might ask?

Everything.

And nothing.

Food is my connector. It connects me to people and places. It evokes memories. It helps to create new ones. It’s a set of shared experiences.

I can’t make my mother’s long-simmered tomato sauce without evoking a slew of memories. My strongest olfactory memory from childhood is being gently awakened by the smell of garlic sizzling in olive oil on Sunday morning as my mother began to make tomato sauce for that day’s dinner. This is the sauce I am making on Sunday at my nephew’s house.

Most recipes that enter my repertory do so because of their connection with people and places. They document my personal history in edible form and cement memories of good times shared with family and friends. Many are family recipes, mine or those of people I know. Some are not, like the Italian Walnut Crostata I created to replicate one I had sitting at a little bar in Venice drinking grappa with my father-in-law in 1996.

That crostata has family connections of a sort. One of the favorite non-Italian desserts in our family is nut roll, brimming with ground sweetened walnuts and encased in just enough lightly sweet yeasted dough to hold it together as it is rolled and baked. While nut roll is more of a Central and Eastern European dessert, it was common in Johnstown, Pennsylvania where I grew up with people from a wide range of ethnic backgrounds.

My Aunt Margie’s nut roll filling is flavored with citrus, hewing toward the Italian, while my mother’s has milk and honey, pointing more towards Eastern Europe. I suspect, though cannot prove, that my Aunt Margie’s filling is more like her mother’s (my Italian grandmother) and my mother’s is more like my father’s mother’s (my Slovak grandmother).

Nut roll is a pastry that I truly miss but it is challenging to make and I have never tackled it despite having my mother’s and my Aunt Margie’s recipes. Except for the one time my cousin, Donna, made it and sent me some and the two times that Michael Alcenius sent me some he made using my Aunt Margie’s recipe, I have been in a nut roll blackout since Aunt Margie died.

The walnut crostata was a revelation. There, in an easy-to-make Italian sweet pastry crust (pasta frolla), was a filling of sweetened, ground walnuts. It wasn’t nut roll but it certainly evoked all the right taste sensations.

I used my husband’s Great Aunt Fidalma’s recipe for pasta frolla and Aunt Margie’s recipe for nut roll filling, to create a dessert that is both reminiscent of that night shooting grappa with my father-in-law in Venice and that preserves recipes from my family and my husband’s family.

Now that I’ve gotten my mouth (and maybe yours) watering for walnut crostata, we’re going to make green beans! I hope, though, that you have a better understanding for the reason this blog exists: to document and preserve traditional recipes along with some sort of a personal story or vignette.

Having just said that, I can’t tell you precisely where this recipe came from but it’s been in my repertory for decades. It is the essence of simplicity, a hallmark of much of Italian home cooking. It also lends itself to being made almost exclusively in advance, making it a perfect dish for a last-minute put-together when entertaining or making a more complicated main course.

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Green Beans with Parmesan Cheese

The beans can be cooked in advance and shocked in ice water to stop cooking. The garlic can be sautéed in olive oil in advance, too. Just before serving, heat the oil and toss the beans briefly to warm them. In a serving bowl toss the beans with Parmesan cheese, salt and pepper. This dish can easily be doubled or tripled. Adjust the amount of Parmesan cheese and garlic to your taste. The olive oil is an integral part of the “sauce” so be generous.

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Ingredients Method Notes

Ingredients

  

• 1 pound green beans
• 1/3 cup olive oil
• 3 cloves garlic
• 1/3 cup freshly grated Parmigiano Reggiano cheese
• salt to taste
• black pepper freshly ground, to taste

Method

 

1. Wash the beans and cut off the ends. I like to cut the ends at an angle for a better appearance.
   
2. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil.
3. Meanwhile, bruise the garlic with the side of a chef’s knife.
   
4. 
5. 
6. Add the olive oil and garlic to a skillet, large enough to hold the beans, and heat on medium-low heat until the garlic begins to sizzle.
   
7. Sauté, over low to medium-low heat until the garlic is golden.
8. Remove and discard the garlic.
9. Remove the oil from the heat.
10. When the water comes to a boil, add the beans and boil until crisp-tender. This will take just a few minutes depending on the beans and your elevation. The beans should not be crunchy but they should have a distinct “toothiness” and almost squeak as you bite into them.
11. Drain the beans.
12. If preparing the beans in advance, shock in ice water.
    
13. Add the drained beans to the garlic-flavored olive oil. Heat gently if the beans are cold.
    
14. Off the heat, mix in the parmesan cheese, salt to taste, and a generous amount of freshly ground black pepper.
15. Toss well and serve immediately.
    

Notes

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