Showing posts with label Italian Stories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Italian Stories. Show all posts

Monday, August 11, 2008

Ma's Bracciol



Robin asked me to write something on her blog. I was honored because basically I am not a good cook and I am not creative. Editor's Note-My Ma is a big fat liar, and say liar without the "R", she is an incredible cook. Back to her story. I taught myself how to cook by using a cook book or by watching my mother-in-law cook. But enough of that already, this is Robin’s blog so I thought I would begin with a story about Robin when she was a little girl. She began to speak at about 5 ½ months old, no kidding, and she hasn’t stopped. A friend of mine at the time said that when kids start to talk that young, they are (the word back then was “retarded.”) handicapped. Little she knew. Anyway, my wedding album was a book that Robin loved to look at and she would get it and show it to company. She was about 3 or 4 at the time. She would talk like she was at the wedding. We finally told her that she was not at the wedding and she was not even born. She was so upset, she cried and cried.

My recipe below is bracciol. At least that’s how we say it. Braciol is flank steak or round steak cut thin horizontally, tenderized by using a meat tenderizer or even a plate held vertically and pounded. I put the meat between two pieces of wax paper or saran wrap when I pound it. Growing up we only had this on holidays, mostly at Christmas, when MaMa (Vincenza) would make homemade ravioli. She would get up at five in the morning to make the ravs and cook her homemade sauce and make meatballs and she would put lamb in her gravy (sauce) because PaPa, my father, for some reason could not eat beef (hello, the hamburger in the meatballs was beef). We would beg her to make bracciol and she would, but doing all the above, it was more work for her. Hers was so delicious. All she did was flatten the meat and use tons of garlic, hard boiled eggs, salt & pepper, roll and tie meat with string, fry it and then put it in the gravy until it tenderized. I think each nationality has their own version of some kind of rolled meat. The Germans roll their beef called “Rouladen.” Robin has that recipe and it is delicious. Today, there are all versions for this recipe. Some add salami, flavored bread crumbs, cheese but here is how I like to make it:

Bracciol
1 slab of flank steak, pounded thin
3-4 cloves of garlic, chopped fine
2-3 hardboiled eggs, chopped
Grated parmesan cheese
Salt & pepper

If meat is too big for rolling (which it usually is), cut in half or thirds and make three rolls. Spread flank steak with garlic, chopped eggs, parmesan cheese and salt and pepper, spreading to within an inch to the edge. Roll and tuck edges in as you roll and tie with kitchen string. You can fry them to brown or just bake them in 350° oven until brown, about 20 minutes. Take the juice that it makes and the meat and put in tomato sauce and simmer with your sauce until tender. Let cool, remove string and then slice. Spoon some sauce over and enjoy.

By Rosalie Cannarozzo Klause



Epilogue- When my mom starts saying things like, "I can't cook, I'm not creative." I call this the "Woe is Ro" complex. Although my Mom states she is not a good cook or creative, let me make it clear, she is both of those and more. I would not be here at this blog doing what I do if it weren't for her teaching me how to cook. She taught me and my brother, it was important to her. Maybe because her mother didn't take the time with her, my own mom felt it important to teach us. I have watched her over the years pull off some tremendous meals, feed dozens of people at once with grace, and cook for us night after night. She is mostly self taught or learned by watching other women cook and asking them lots of questions. Her cake decorating is beautiful. Thanks for blogging for me Ma!

Tuesday, July 8, 2008

Three Day Chicken



We don't know the right name for this chicken, I just know that it is good and worth the three days it takes to marinate. My cousin, Maryanne is a tremendous cook. She lives in Revere, MA on the same street as her parents and my other auntie and uncle. I have known Emmanuel Street and its people all my life. Saint Anthony's bells toll daily and the most welcome ring is at five o'clock, when the aromas of cooking waft through the streets calling all the kids home for dinner. Maryanne just got me hooked on a little Italian paper called The Boston Post-Gazette. She has me reading John Christoforo's column called Nanna and Babbononno and Vita's Recipes from the Homeland. Some of these articles remind me of the stories my family told me about my own Italian grandparents. So if you are of the Italian heritage give these a read.

The cookouts that my Auntie Josie put on were ridiculous with food. She put it all out there. Salads, all kinds of meats, appetizers, vegetables, desserts including Italian pastries, and the good bread. Maryanne and her parents, Uncle Jimmy and Auntie Mary would come down with a pan of Maryanne's famous chicken wings. These juicy wings are scrumptious and a big hit at all the cookouts.

I called her the other day to get the recipe because I remembered these wings and wanted some now! Then she told me she marinated them three days, I would have to wait. My hubby isn't a big fan of wings as it is little meat and a lot of mess to eat, so I used boneless thighs which worked out just dandy. I have to warn you that these are good but my family likes this type of dish on the sweeter side and this is a more savory chicken. Next time I make this I will have to add a little brown sugar for their tastes. I will make mine separate! This is a very tender and flavorful chicken.

Three Day Chicken
3-4 pounds wings, drumettes, or thighs, whatever your mood
1/2 cup soy sauce
1/2 cup pineapple juice
1 onion, chopped
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 T. fresh ginger, crushed
3 T. whisky, I used Jack Daniels
few pinches fresh black pepper

In a large bowl mix the marinade and add chicken. Cover and let marinate for three days, stirring once per day. When ready to cook. Preheat oven to 425°. Line a pan with sides with foil and place chicken, discarding the marinade. Bake for 18 minutes or until internal temperature reaches 170°. I am finding that a thermometer is crucial in cooking meats as it helps me avoid over cooking. Serves 6-12 depending on the cut of chicken you used.



Note- I am hooked on fried plantains ever since I have been getting the best Cuban chicken at a little place in Arlington called Caribbean Grill. They have the best of everything there. Cuban rice and beans, spinach, plantains, and fried yucca. The sauces are killer. It is cash only, so hit the ATM before visiting.

Saturday, March 29, 2008

Kitchn Cure- Lunch Lady


I think there is a job out there that is probably one of the most under appreciated jobs and that is of the lunch lady. I used to sit around with my friends wondering what the lunch ladies put in the meatloaf and coming up with grosser than gross ingredients such as toe nails, bugs, and other unmentionables. We made fun of their hair nets, support hose, and orthopedic shoes. So here is something hilarious. A little nugget of fun. Something to put a smile on your face. My mom was a lunch lady. Hey don't laugh, only Rob and I can laugh at, I mean, with our mom. I was living in Germany at the time when I got this call from Ma stating that she had a new job.

“Tell me about it Ma,” I asked.
“Well my girlfriend Merrydale got me into the school system.” she said vaguely.
“Doing what?” I further inquired.
“I’ll be working in the cafeteria.” she whispered.
“Doing what?” I demanded almost knowing where this was going.
“Lunch Lady!” she blurted.

I fell off my chair laughing at my poor mother’s expense, I wanted to break out in song… "woke up in the morning, put on my new plastic gloves ….” Various scenes of Ma flashed through my mind. Visions of Ma’s don’t-touch-my-hair in a hair net, nothing or no one touches the Ro’s hair. Or Ma adding garlic to everything. Or Ma telling all the kids to eat their veggies because “its good for your poo’s”, Rob and I loved that one growing up. It took a while for me to compose myself before I could resume our conversation.
“Ma, please don’t be a lunch lady, everyone makes fun of lunch ladies,” I begged still trying not to laugh.
“It will be good for me,” she said.
What, being a lunch lady or being made fun of, I wondered?

Now it is my turn. I am a lunch lady. We do not have a hot lunch program at our school so it is my job and chore to pack the lunches every day, three for the kids and one for hubby. It is a chore on the grandest scale. What to pack? Variety? Healthy? Delicious? It wasn't until about a year ago that I figured out that I could freeze sandwiches. This week's Kitchn Cure assignment (click here to see BRK on AT's Kitchn Cure) and big syrup spill in the pantry caused me to throw away two lunch boxes and gave me the umph I needed to rejuvenate my family's lunches. I purchased three new lunch boxes-there is something about a new lunch box, isn't there, and got to work on cleaning out the fridge and snack drawer, restocking the fresh fruits and veggies then on to solving a serious problem...


We have a nut allergy kid in our house, the rest of us are just nuts. It is the big mother load tree nut allergy. The epi-pen carrying allergy. Can't eat anything that has been made on equipment shared with tree nuts allergy. We have already experienced one anaphylactic shock trauma and hope to never see that again. I love Trader Joe's cookies as they do not contain artificial preservatives, but guess what? They are all made on equipment shared with tree nuts. So on to Plan B.


I dusted off my old "Make A Mix" cookbook and made our own brownie mix, cake mix, and pudding mixes. And I loved every minute. I was able to pick healthier, some organic, and better quality ingredients than what is found in most store bought mixes. This was not done to be more "Martha-ish" or "hey look at me I'm a better mom", quite the contrary, I solved the can't-buy-any-more-tree-nut-equipment-making-food-products-problem. Now if flour, milk, and eggs start touting tree nut equipment labels I'm in big trouble.


Note-If you do not have one of these calculators, then get one. The Kitchen Calc is one of my favorite kitchen tools. Perfect for figuring out how many cups is 53 teaspoons, cutting or doubling recipes, and just plain calculating.

Saturday, March 22, 2008

Pizzelles, Egg Hunts and Champa Meatballs- Easter Memories



As a little girl, Holy Week was a time to prepare for Easter Sunday and with an Italian mom there was much to do. Many preparations were made for la festa. We usually went to my Auntie Josie's house in Revere, MA to celebrate Easter. It was a time thick with tradition. The women worked hard on the Easter meal during Holy Week, ravioli was purchased from a bakery or homemade, meatballs and gravy made along with lasagna and any other dish that could be made in advance. I used to love sitting there in the kitchen watching Ma make the pizzelles. The anise smell consumed the house. She always had to double or triple the batch as we ate them up as soon as they came off the machine still hot and pliable. Once cooled the cookies were crispy and melted away in our mouths.

The biggest event at Josie's was always the Easter Egg Hunt on Easter morning. Me, my cousin Joseph, and my brother Robbie were the youngest of the group so my older cousins Ronnie and Cliffie hid all the eggs for us. The eggs were the ones we just dyed the day before (remember we never refrigerated them and they could be on the table for up to a week before they were turned into egg salad?) plus some plastic eggs filled with candy or pennies. Then we would hunt and do the "hot-cold" thing. There was one year that the older boys made it really hard for us. They kept telling us that we were "hot" but there was no egg in sight. They had put it up the hollow table leg. Then my cousin Joe saw a bump behind the wall calendar in the kitchen and said that maybe an egg was taped behind there. So instead of picking up the calendar he smacked the calendar and sent goo dripping down the wall, Ronnie and Cliffie had hid a raw egg. Auntie went wild! And I think Uncle Cliff had to repaint the wall. Once we were older the big boys weren't around to hide the eggs, so Auntie would open a bag of mini chocolate eggs and start flinging. They went everywhere and we would find some years later. She is alot like Vincenza that way- la pazza!

After the hunt, we were adorned by the Auntie and Ma with our Easter outfits. Leisure suits for the boys and a frilly dress, bow, hose, shoes, gloves and purse for me. The night before mom would tie up my hair in rags for big banana curls on Easter. Pure torture, but the fuss from all the family made it worth it. Our cheeks were pinched and kissed as we made our way down the street to Auntie Mary's house for more treats and pizzagaina. Mmm. On the way we stopped by a funny square house on the corner that looked as though it had sunk because the door was very short to the cellar kitchen, us kids even ducked as we went in. Most houses there have two kitchens, a nice one upstairs covered in plastic, ahem, and one in the cellar to actually cook in. But in this home lived the two Champa sisters who made the best meatballs ever (until my brother's happened on the scene). Mine aren't bad either, another blog. After being treated to a Champa meatball which were as good as the chocolate bunnies, we went to Auntie Mary's for more pinching and kissing.

On to la festa! We all squeezed around the dining room table, us kids draped in dish towels to protect our Easter outfits and we ate. And ate. And ate. The meal always started with a huge anti pasta salad loaded with every veggie, condiment, cold cut and cheese. Those were gorgeous. Then came the meat and red gravy, pigs feet, Italian sausage, meatballs and bracciolla. The ravioli or lasagna too. Oh and the bread. Then my Ma and Auntie would clear the table and out came the American food, turkey, stuffing, brown gravy, veggies, mashed padayduz (potatoes), sometimes ham too with all the ham stuff like sweet padayduz, creamed corn, and squash. It was unbelievable (insane). After that, the table was cleared, the coffee put on and the pastries and pies served. A few hours later we started all over again with turkey or meatball sandwiches or just the whole shebang on our plates.

This year we are going to Ma's (Nonni's) house. She made the lasagna, meats, antipasta, and Ricotta Pie. I made the Pizzelles and my house smells wonderful. I use anise extract or anise oil when I can get it. Give me the anise pizzelle any day over chocolate or vanilla and don't dump powdered sugar on mine either. I'm a traditional anise pizzelle gal. These pizzelles cook up crispy and delicate. You will need a pizzelle machine to make these or a generous Italian neighbor.

Traditional Italian Pizzelles
3 eggs
3/4 c. sugar
3/4 cup butter, melted
2 t. anise extract
1 t. vanilla extract
1 1/2 cups flour
1 t. baking powder

Preheat pizzelle maker. In large bowl beat eggs at med speed. Put speed on low and add sugar. Blend well. Mix in butter and extracts. Beat until well mixed. Add flour and baking soda, mix well. Drop by rounded spoonfuls slightly off center on to the maker. Place it in the center but a little closer to the back of the machine. Gently lower lid and cook for about 30-45 seconds. Remove with fork to a wire rack. You may also shape into cones using a metal cone mold. Makes about 30 cookies so you make wish to double.

Note- If you are like me you will make the first two, too big. The next two, over done. But after that you will get the hang of it and by the end they will be perfect. Tutte Mangia!

He is Risen! He is Risen Indeed!

Saturday, March 1, 2008

"Wednesday is Prince Spaghetti Day"- Pasta Carbonara

Does anyone remember this old commercial filmed in the Italian North End of Boston? I find it funny that she yells "Anthony" in an Italian neighborhood and only one kid comes running. I had an uncle Anthony and my Grandmother would yell out the window like that too. Except she was on the top floor screaming like a la pazza "Annnntoooonnnyyyy, whena I getta my handsas ona you Ima gonna killa you." It sounds alot scarier in Italian. Then she would bite her hand, give the evil eye, and slam the window shut. In my uncle's case it was not Prince Spaghetti Day. You never wanted to make Grandma mad or be witness to her wrath. Ask my Auntie Josie who had a friend over once and they made Mama Vincenza mad. Auntie told the girl to run and they did manage to make it down three flights but it was too late, Vincenza's aim was off and the kid wore the door mat on her head instead of Auntie. With the girl now in hysterics, picking debris from her hair, Auntie said matter-of-factly, "I told you to run." I don't think that girl ever came for a playdate again.

When I was little, every Thursday was our spaghetti day at Grandma's house. Early in the morning, after she put the gravy on, Grandma would take me to Mass at St. Anthony's right there by her house in Revere. Then we would walk down to the bakery where she treated me every week to a Black and White Cookie. Those were the best and I haven't been able to find them like that since. While nibbling my cookie we walked down to Grandma's friend's house. Mary was her name and she would give me a big wet kiss, pinch my cheek and tell me how bella I was and how big I was getting, which I thought was incredible as I just saw her the week before. Mary was a peach but her boys, Rocco and Vinnie (names changed) were another story. They always had buzzed haircuts and wore wifebeaters, ugh. They had no toys, their father's rule and only wanted to watch "Aqua Boy" on TV. That family also raised rabbits for eating. They didn't tell me that one until I was much older as that was the one thing I looked forward to in going to Mary's, seeing all the pretty "pet" rabbits.

By evening Grandma would start cooking the spaghetti and my mother would toss the salad (remember she wasn't allowed to cook with Vincenza.) We always had the bread fresh from the bakery and to think I begged my mother for Wonder Bread all those years when I was little. With more family joining us, dinners were lively and loud, then afterwards, while the adults drank their coffee, my brother and I would drowsily watch TV only to be scooped up and put in the car for the ride home to do it all again the next week.

When I was in middle school, my mother worked a short time at Prince and I think they paid her wages in pasta, sauce, and cheese because our pantry was loaded with Prince products. It wasn't always a Wednesday but we ate pasta once a week. The leftovers were always fried up (before microwaves) and the crispy parts fought over. I have carried on with that tradition and serve my family a pasta dish each week and we enjoy the leftovers (not fried-sadly) for lunch or on C.O.R.N. (Clean Out Refrigerator Night). The following recipe for Pasta Carbonara is adapted from Jamie Oliver's cook book, "Jamie's Dinners." It is bonnified comfort food.


Pasta Carbonara
1 pound farfalle (bowtie pasta)
1 egg
7 tablespoons heavy cream
kosher salt
freshly ground black pepper
8 slices uncurred bacon, diced
3-4 handfuls frozen peas
1/3 cup fresh Italian parsley, roughly chopped
2 handfuls of freshly grated Parmesan cheese

To a large pot of salted boiling water add the farfalle and cook according to the package directions, in the last minute add the frozen peas. While the pasta is cooking, whisk the egg in a bowl with the cream and add a few pinches of salt and pepper. In a large skillet over med-high heat cook bacon until crisp then turn the heat off, do not drain. When the pasta is cooked drain reserving a little water. Add the pasta and peas to the bacon and blend well. Quickly stir in the egg and cream mixture into the hot pasta. Be sure to stir quickly so the egg does not scramble. Add a ladle of reserved pasta water to "loosen" the sauce then toss in the cheese. Pour into a preheated bowl (I usually drain the pasta in a colander over the serving bowl to heat it.) Top with parsley and serve with a salad and a crispy, warm baguette. Tutto Mangia!

Warning-If you ever receive the evil eye, you must put a wooden salad bowl on your head, olive oil on your forehead and repeat "facce tu la culla mia" (something to do with comparing your face to someone's rear end) three times. I keep an extra bowl in my purse just for that reason.

Translation- la pazza: the crazy one

Wednesday, February 20, 2008

Army Wife Banana Bread


My mother and I share similar love stories. Both of our men were in the Army, both served in Korea (30 years apart), and both were from far away states. My mother and father met at a dance on April Fool's Day, while dad was stationed at Fort Devens in Massachusetts. By June they were engaged and he was off to Korea for 15 months. They married in October 1962 upon his return. Mom always thought she would marry a local guy, someone she knew from the old neighborhood, not a Texan like my dad. If dad hadn't come along it may have been a Sal, Vinnie or Gino, even though her Italian father told her to never marry an Italian man, "They're no good," he said.

I met Dan in NJ while he was stationed at Fort Dix and I was a nurse at the local hospital. Just like mom I figured I would marry a local, I had been in NJ most of my life. Dan is from Seattle. When I told my dad that I was dating an Army man he asked his rank. "Lieutenant," I said, "They're good," he said. After 15 months of dating we were married and I was whisked off to Fort Bragg, NC, Fayetteville to be exact (or fondly, Fayettenam) and my life as an Army wife began, just like my mom's 31 years previous when she was uprooted to Mineral Wells, Texas after living her whole life in East Boston. Army life was good to both of us. The good times and hardships had given equally to fond memories of our early marriages. But I think mom would agree that it was the friends we made during those Army days that added to the richness of our memories.

This banana bread is by far one of the best that has ever crossed my lips. It is the most requested dessert in my home and with the abundance of bananas lurking in my freezer, it is by far the most convenient. This old recipe is from one of my mom's neighbors during her time as an Army wife in Mineral Wells, TX.

Banana Bread
1/2 cup butter , softened
2 cups flour
1 1/3 cups sugar
1 1/2 t. baking powder
1 t. soda
2 eggs
1 t. salt
1/2 t. nutmeg
1 cup mashed ripe bananas
1/4 cup milk
1 t vanilla
1 T. espresso powder (my addition-optional, but good!)
1/2 cup chopped pecans, optional

Mix all ingredients on high speed in mixer for 2 minutes. Bake in a greased 9x9 pan at 350 degrees for 35-40 minutes. This is delicious right from the oven schmeared with butter.
Note: I use 2-3 “Costco-sized” bananas right from my freezer. To defrost, place bananas in the microwave and heat on high for 30 second increments until the bananas are soft. Cut one end off and squeeze the softened banana toothpaste-like right out into the bowl. That’s right, freeze bananas in their peel.

Friday, February 15, 2008

Lasagna- It'll Do


For me the epitome of comfort food is lasagna. I love its creamy, cheesy layers that stand up perfectly when cut and plated. Some of my most memorable days are when I came home from javelin practice and asked the age old question, “What’s for dinner?” And the ecstasy that followed when answered, “Lasagna!” Pot roast, roasted chicken, or stew just didn’t cut it for me after a long and chilly practice, it had to be lasagna. My mom makes a good and classic lasagna, but my Auntie Josie in Boston beats us all. Everyone requests her lasagna. She has even be spotted in airports taking the cheesy wonders through security. We don’t know what she does that makes it so amazing, she doesn’t even know! She says she just throws it together, doesn’t boil the noodles, never measures, but for sure adds a few pound of cheese. I have tried to recreate her lasagna with regrets each time. Some of my own more successful lasagnas are made right from the recipe on the noodle box-pretty lame for an Italian, I know! Trader Joe’s No Boil Lasagna Noodles has a nice recipe and very easy too. A quick run around their store and one has everything needed. Theirs has no ricotta but uses alfredo sauce instead, a kind of béchamel, so very Mario Batali. It is a nice lasagna in a pinch and stands up nicely when cut. I made it this time with no meat and used cheese in its place. When I do make that perfect Josie lasagna I will share the recipe, so until then Trader Joe’s and even Barilla’s recipes will have to do.

Tuesday, February 12, 2008

Mamma Chinazza- Grandma's Broccoli Pasta


This is one of my favorite pictures of my mom. Ma, Mamma Chinazza, Little Mummie, Nonnie, "The Non", or "The Ro" are just a few terms of endearment we have bestowed on her. She is Ma to many and most. When friends and family are in need she brings them a meal or places them on her prayer list, and that is a list you want to be on as she is one of the greatest prayer warriors I know. We can always count on her for help, a shoulder to cry on, the truth, and a laugh. So many have been touched by her generosity, creativity, and strength. And can she cook!

Mom is the reason that I love to cook. As a little girl I sat and watched her create these beautiful cakes after she took cake decorating classes. I listened to her say, "I'm no good at this." But she kept on making one amazing cake after the other. She could do it and did it well. I remember her cooking these far out cuisines for her Gourmet Club that challenged her beyond her abilities but she pulled it off every time. She can make something from nothing. She is known for her parties, delicious menus, and meticulous planning. She is mostly self-taught but has often asked other great cooks to show her.

My Grandmother, Vincenza, was a young bride from Sicily when she came to the States. In their arranged marriage, there was an 18 year difference between she and my Papa. Papa's first wife died soon after the birth of their third child. So Papa needed a new wife and his wife's first cousin was the perfect solution. Being only eighteen, from a poor peasant family, Grandma made the journey to her new life. She did not know how to do many things and cooking was one of them. But over time she learned to cook a few things well. She is remembered for her homemade ravioli drying flat on sheets all over the house, broccoli pasta, stromboli, and a few others dishes that she took to her grave. My Grandma did not teach my Mom how to cook, she shooed everyone out of the kitchen. Mom did it differently. My brother and I were welcome to spend many hours in the kitchen watching her every step. Those hours have paid off, not only can we cook but we are close to our Ma.

Grandma’s Broccoli Pasta– recreated by Mom
1/4 c. onion, chopped
1 bunch broccoli, washed
1/4 cup olive oil
2 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 pound shell shaped pasta, cooked in salted water and drained
1 cup heavy cream
1/2 cup grated Parmesan cheese
red pepper flakes to taste

Trim broccoli, removing woody stems, and separate florets into bite-size pieces. Steam until broccoli is bright green and tender crisp. Drain. Heat oil in sauté pan. Over medium high heat, add onion and cook until translucent. Add broccoli and garlic, sauté for 2 minutes. Add pasta and red pepper flakes. Heat until warmed through then stir in cream and cheese. Salt and pepper to taste. Serve immediately. Serves 4-6.