Cooking with My Sisters Part 4
On the Side The best lesson we learned from the great cooks of our family is: Keep it simple.
Make the most of your time and effort.
Take care of your guests.
Let the food shine.
In our world, this devotion to simplicity extended to everything we did. Yet even the most humble of vegetables got a dash of star treatment. Take Grandma Lucy's trick with carrots.
Grandma Lucy's Sweet Carrots SERVES 6 TO 8.
1 pound baby carrots, peeled and cleaned 2 tablespoons granulated sugar Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste b.u.t.ter to taste In a saucepan, cover the carrots with water. Stir in the sugar and bring to a boil. Cook until tender, then strain. Add the salt, pepper, and b.u.t.ter.
Then there were Grandma Lucy's potatoes, which she boiled with the skins on, then peeled and quartered. She liked to work with potatoes that way because she felt they stayed firmer and held their shape.
Grandma Lucy's Quartered Potatoes SERVES 8.
10 medium-size red potatoes cup olive oil cup vinegar cup chopped onion Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste Boil the potatoes whole and unpeeled. When done, drain and remove to a bowl, allowing to cool for 5 to 10 minutes. While still warm, peel off the skins, then quarter the potatoes. If the quarters are too large, cut in half.
Add all the other ingredients and oss. Serve.
A Tip from Checka: Balsamic vinegar adds a different twist to any dish calling for vinegar, but it's not an absolute necessity. Rumor has it that we use more of it in this country than they do in Italy!
Grandmom Trigiani would do a great turn with the equally humble green bean. She glamorized it with the Basic Tomato Sauce.
Grandmom Trigiani's Green Beans in Tomato Sauce SERVES 4.
2 cups fresh green beans 3 tablespoons olive oil 1 cup Basic Tomato Sauce Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste Snip the ends of the beans and wash them thoroughly. Drizzle the olive oil in a frying pan. Pour in the tomato sauce and let it simmer. Place the beans in the sauce and allow them to simmer until they are cooked. Season with salt and pepper.
Grandmom in jet beads and emerald green enjoys scintillating conversation at dinner.
'Be good and don't do anything foolish.' Viola Trigiani Grandmom Trigiani loved to create special effects for her dinner parties, so we inherited several recipes for side dishes that use traditionally Italian ingredients in a decidedly fifties-era fashion. (Mary thinks this is because Grandmom's golden age was the Eisenhower era, populated with Oysters Rockefeller and c.o.c.ktails, and pineapple upside-down cake and demita.s.ses.) For her dinner parties, Grandmom liked to make a couple of fancier sides that required a little more effort than usual-such as artichokes and mushrooms. I could live on these artichokes!
Grandmom Trigiani's Stuffed Artichokes SERVES 4.
4 artichokes 4 garlic cloves cup olive oil 2 cups bread crumbs 4 ounces fresh shredded Parmigiano-Reggiano or Romano cheese (reserve a small amount for garnish) One 3-ounce jar capers, drained Juice of 1 lemon Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste 2 cups chicken stock Trim the artichokes. Cut the stalk off close to the base squarely so the artichoke can sit upright. Slice the top off each artichoke and pinch out the center. With kitchen scissors, cut off the ends of every leaf. Place artichokes in a covered pan with about inch of water and steam until they open (they should turn a beautiful rich green color), about 30 minutes.
Saute the garlic briefly in 2 tablespoons of the oil. In a large bowl, mix the bread crumbs, garlic, cheese, capers, lemon juice, the remaining oil, and the salt and pepper. Save a small portion of cheese for garnish.
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.
Stuff the artichokes. Hold an opened artichoke over the bowl and with a teaspoon or your hand, stuff bread-crumb mixture into every leaf you can, and particularly the center. Place the stuffed artichokes in an oven-safe pan with a lid. Pour the chicken stock over the artichokes and add enough water to have an inch of liquid on the bottom. Pour the remaining bread-crumb mixture over the artichokes and sprinkle the remaining cheese on top.
Cover and bake for about an hour. The artichokes should be about to fall apart. Serve with an extra empty bowl for the discarded leaves.
Sauteed Mushrooms SERVES 4 TO 6.
pound (1 stick) b.u.t.ter 1 yellow onion, chopped 1 pound whole white mushrooms*
1 garlic clove, minced teaspoon fresh thyme teaspoon fresh oregano teaspoon fresh basil teaspoon salt cup white wine * You can go more chichi here with some fancy mushrooms, but Grandmom always used plain white mushrooms.
In a large saute pan, heat the b.u.t.ter. Add the onion and saute until golden. Add the remaining ingredients and simmer slowly for 45 minutes, or until the mushrooms are tender.
Place in a serving bowl and serve with your favorite dish. The sauce makes an excellent accompaniment for any main meat dish.
A Tip from Pia: Really make this dish pop by adding a dash of hot sauce just before removing it from the heat.
A Tip from Checka: These are great over pork or lamb chops.
Mom's cauliflower dish is in this mode-an extra-special treatment for a plain vegetable. This works as an appetizer, too.
Mom's Cauliflower SERVES 6 TO 8.
1 large head of cauliflower 2 eggs 2 cups all-purpose flour 1 tablespoon baking powder 2 tablespoons minced garlic cup whole milk cup olive oil Clean the cauliflower. Steam the whole head until tender (or until a skewer can pierce). Do not overcook. Set aside to cool and then cut into small florets. Set aside.
In a large bowl, beat the eggs. Add the remaining ingredients except the olive oil and stir to blend well.
Heat the olive oil in a small or medium saucepan. Drag each floret through the batter, coating it evenly. Drop the florets into the hot olive oil in batches and remove when golden. Drain on paper towels.
And if Grandmom Trigiani could find blood oranges, it was a safe bet that you would be treated to the Roseto tradition of sliced oranges as prepared here. But regular oranges work just fine. And sometimes she would top them, Roseto style, with black olives for extra pizzazz.
Oranges with Cracked Pepper SERVES 6 TO 8.
3 large oranges 3 tablespoons olive oil Freshly ground black pepper Peel the oranges and slice about inch thick. Remove the seeds. Place the oranges on a plate and drizzle with the olive oil. Grind fresh pepper on top. Serve.
Another great appetizer or side dish was the buffalo-style mozzarella cheese served with tomatoes or roasted red bell peppers, or just with freshly ground black pepper. Grandmom Trigiani used to subst.i.tute mozzarella with a variation called scamorza, which she would buy fresh from the Calandra family's farm in Nazareth, Pennsylvania. Scamorza is one variety of the white cow's-milk cheeses produced in southern Italy. Another is caciocavallo (we won't tell you what that means). The true buffalo mozzarella, made in Italy from buffalo's milk, can be hard to find, but it's starting to be produced in the United States now. You can find scamorza in the Italian neighborhoods of some cities, and while it resembles mozzarella, scamorza has a slightly saltier, heartier flavor and heavier consistency. We love it.
Mozzarella and Tomatoes SERVES 4 TO 6.
1 pound fresh mozzarella or scamorza cheese 2 large fresh tomatoes 2 tablespoons olive oil Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste Slice the cheese and tomatoes about inch thick. Place on a plate in a circular pattern. Drizzle the olive oil over the tomatoes and mozzarella and season with salt and pepper.
A Tip from Mary: I prefer roasted bell peppers. Here's an easy way to do this at home.
Roasting Peppers SERVES 4 TO 6.
6 bell peppers of any color (but we like red), cored, seeded, and sliced lengthwise Olive oil Salt Arrange the peppers next to each other on the rack of a broiling pan skin side up.
Broil, not too close to the heat, for about 5 minutes, or until you can see the peppers blistering. Turn them. After the other side has browned, remove them from the broiler.
Move the peppers to a closed container (it can be anything-a pan with a tight-fitting lid, a plastic bag, even a brown paper bag) to allow them to steam. After they've cooled, 10 to 15 minutes, peel or sc.r.a.pe the brown parts. Drizzle with olive oil and season with salt before serving. To store, place in a tightly covered container, covered with more olive oil.
For weekday dinners, Grandmom Trigiani liked to make ca.s.seroles that could be served as a side for more than one meal.
Grandmom Trigiani's Asparagus Tips SERVES 6 TO 8.
20 asparagus spears, chopped into -inch pieces 3 ounces blue cheese, softened 8 ounces goat cheese, softened 1 egg, beaten Preheat the oven to 400 degrees. Begin steaming the asparagus; stop when it becomes a bright, vivid green.
While the asparagus is steaming, in a large bowl blend the cheeses and the egg. Toss with the cooked asparagus. Place in a shallow baking pan, covered, and bake for 20 minutes.
Grandmom Trigiani's Baked Zucchini SERVES 6 TO 8.
1 medium onion, chopped 2 garlic cloves, minced cup olive oil 3 cups zucchini, sliced thin in rounds cup Parmigiano-Reggiano 4 eggs, slightly beaten 4 teaspoons chopped fresh Italian parsley Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.
In a large skillet, brown the onion and garlic in the olive oil. Layer the zucchini in a lightly greased baking dish, sprinkling some of the onion-garlic mixture and some of the cheese over each layer. Pour the eggs over the zucchini, making sure to cover the zucchini completely. Sprinkle the parsley over the top. Bake for 40 minutes, or until lightly browned on top.
A Tip from Pia: Don't skimp on the cheese. Use good ingredients; it makes for better flavor.
At home in Big Stone Gap, Mom always served a vegetable and a salad because she liked to make sure we got plenty of greens. Even if it was iceberg lettuce with onions, tomatoes, and green peppers, it did the trick. Mom taught us how to make and toss the salad with oil and vinegar. (Remember: more oil than vinegar.) We never saw a bottled dressing in Ida's kitchen. And, we ate our salad right on the big dinner plate.
* Pia says: "I'll never forget that night after Adri's 'sous chef' gig at the Mount Bethel Inn, when Mom asked her to make the salad for dinner. Everything was fine until Adri put her hands into the bowl and started tossing the salad with her fingers. I thought Mom was going to faint."
When we visited Mom's uncle, Monsignor Andrea Spada, in Bergamo, we would see the salad dressing prepared a little differently. Mom's cousin Mafalda, the marvelous cook, kept house for their uncle Don Andrea (as we called him). Mafalda, her husband, Arturo, and their children, Monica and Andrea, lived with Don Andrea in a beautiful sixteenth-century apartment above the newspaper he published. While Mafalda prepared the entire meal, she would leave the salad greens unadorned and serve them in a large bowl, and Don Andrea would dress the salad-two parts olive oil to one part vinegar, just salt and pepper-as if playing a string instrument, with both arms moving at the same pace but in opposite directions.
Mom grew up in the apartment above her parents' shoe store. Grandma Lucy's kitchen was at the top of the staircase from the ground floor, and it had a window so Lucy could see who was ascending the stairs. The kitchen was probably about twenty feet square, with a big table and comfortable chairs. Grandma Lucy had a calming presence; you could relax in her kitchen. If you were relaxing in a Trigiani kitchen, though, it meant you didn't have enough to do.
Grandma Lucy with a few grandchildren. From left, Mary Theresa, Mary Yolanda, Andrea, and Donnie.
When Grandma Lucy decided to stay in America, she knew she would never see her mother again. They corresponded and even talked occasionally, once longdistance telephone calls became possible, but this was a deep sadness for her.
One night, her mother came to her in a dream. Lucy was standing at the top of the stairs to her apartment, and her mother was standing at the bottom. Lucy asked, "Mama, why are you here? I'm so happy!" And her mother said, "I came to see you." A few weeks later, Lucy received a letter from Don Andrea, with the sad news that their mother had died. He shared very specific details, including the time and date of her death. Lucy noted with shock that her mother died the night of her dream.
But our visits to Bergamo and Schilpario made Grandma Lucy happy. We would tell her all about her nieces and nephews, and their children, and our adventures. And the food always figured into the stories.
Of course, one of the all-time best side dishes in Bergamo was Mafalda's risotto alla Milanese, made with precious saffron and, often, mushrooms. On my first visit there, after college, the only thing I could muster in Italian was "Italia Oggi," the t.i.tle of my college Italian textbook. After my siblings and parents expressed their embarra.s.sment, Mafalda took me under her wing and was most patient in attempting to communicate with me. This risotto crossed all language barriers, though.
* Toni says: "There's a better story than that about Adri's Italian, or lack thereof. Mom, Adri, Tim, Lucia, and I were in Italy in 2003, getting ready to return to the U.S. from Milan. We were at the airport, and a nice guy was helping us, and thinking she was saying, 'You're the man, you're the man,' Adri kept saying, 'Tu sei il mano, tu sei il mano.' (Actually, it would be la mano, but this story is not about grammar.) Because mano means hand in Italian, Adri was actually saying, 'You're the hand, you're the hand.' "
Mafalda's Risotto alla Milanese SERVES 8.
cup b.u.t.ter onion, chopped cup dry white wine 5 cups chicken broth 1 pound Arborio rice teaspoon saffron powder Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste 1 cup grated Parmigiano-Reggiano Melt cup of the b.u.t.ter in a large pot, add the onion, and fry until it's golden. Add the wine and 7 tablespoons of the broth. Boil gently until reduced by about half.
Add the rice and cook for 5 minutes, stirring constantly. The mixture should be fairly dry in consistency. Add the saffron, salt, and pepper.
Continue cooking over low to medium heat for 20 minutes, stirring in the broth 1 cup at a time until the liquid is absorbed. The rice should remain tender throughout.
Remove from the stove and add the remaining cup of b.u.t.ter and the cheese. Let stand for about a minute. Serve.
A Tip from Mary: Mafalda always uses Arborio rice, as do most cooks in Lombardy, but there are other kinds of Italian varieties that work well. If you want to be authentic, try brands made in Italy.
A Tip from Adri: I like to slice two portobello mushrooms and add them to the recipe above with the onion. Another alternative: I add a pound of medium shrimp. It's fun to experiment with different additions.
We would eat this risotto as a first course or as a side to a light meat supper-sometimes just prosciutto (only from Parma or San Daniele, which produce the best prosciutto) and a salad. Either way, Mafalda made it special, and, like all the cooks on this side of the Atlantic, she was at her happiest when she saw how much you enjoyed one of her meals.
CHAPTER SIX.
Dessert, or Dessertina For the Trigianis, the crowning glory of the meal was dessert. When Mom married Dad, she encountered an almost religious devotion to the concept of ending a meal with pastry, cake, or cookies. In the Bonicelli house, you had the occasional cookie or light cake, but it was by no means a nightly occurrence. Fresh fruit was Grandma Lucy's finale.
So shortly after their wedding, after one of her first trips to the grocery store, Mom had to face an inquisition from Dad: Where are the cookies? Are you going to bake some? What kind? How about a pie? Mom's answer was that they had fruit for dessert. He was truly, deeply shocked.
We soon learned that if we helped Mom by making a dessert for dinner, we would win major points with Dad as well. That led to some really interesting experiments. Some might call them disasters.
* Checka says: "Adri attempted banana bread once and didn't take the time to mash the bananas-she just added them whole, right to the batter! It looked great until you cut a slice. Carlo took one look and asked Dad if he 'had' to eat it. The rest of us didn't even ask-we just ran."
* Toni says: "Then there was the time Adri iced a cake when it was still warm and then put those little silver sugar ball decorations on top. The decorations drowned in the icing as it sank into the cake, and no one knew they were in there. Dad broke a tooth, and those particular decorations were banned for all time."
Michael, Adri, and Carlo cheer for cake. (Adri's still cheering!) Some experts believe that the growth of American baking traditions and dessert habits paralleled the increase of wealth in this country. The theory was, back at the beginning of the twentieth century, if you could afford sugar and flour and other expensive ingredients, it meant you had arrived. Whether this figured into Grandmom Trigiani's view of sweets, I don't know. But she loved to bake and she liked nothing better than seeing people compare portions: who got a center piece, who got a corner piece, who got a larger piece. While this was negative reinforcement, she took it as affirmation that her baked goods were in demand.
Grandmom Trigiani loved to bake on Sunday morning, after early Ma.s.s. She'd arrive home, change her clothes, and pull out her mother's slate pastry board, and the flour would fly. One of her favorite things to make, and one of the most popular, was the b.u.t.termilk cake, a Perin family standard. It became one of Pia's favorites as well, and she made such a big fuss every time Grandmom made one that Grandmom soon began baking them just for Pia. And if Grandmom was visiting us, she'd arrive with the cake wrapped first in plastic wrap, then a layer of aluminum foil. Checka loved it for the sugary topping, which she saved for last.
Perin Family b.u.t.termilk Cake SERVES 12.
4 cups all-purpose flour 1 cups (3 sticks) unsalted b.u.t.ter, cut into small bits and softened (but still chilled) teaspoon salt 3 cups sugar 2 teaspoons baking powder 1 teaspoon baking soda 3 eggs 1 teaspoon vanilla extract 2 cups b.u.t.termilk Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.
Place the flour, b.u.t.ter, and salt in a large bowl.
In a second bowl, mix the sugar, baking powder, and baking soda. Add this mixture to the flour mixture. Combine, then measure out 1 cup and set aside.
Beat the eggs, vanilla, and b.u.t.termilk into the mixture.
Pour the batter into a greased and floured 9 12-inch cake pan. Sprinkle the reserved cup of flour-sugar mixture over the top of the batter. Bake for 45 minutes to 1 hour, watching for the cake to turn a golden color.
Grandma Lucy's hard little cookies, pezzi duri (literally, "hard pieces"), a form of what we know as biscotti, are perfect for dunking in espresso.
Grandma Lucy's Pezzi Duri MAKES ABOUT 3 DOZEN.
6 eggs cup sugar cup vegetable oil pound sliced blanched almonds Dash of salt 1 teaspoons baking powder teaspoon anise seed 1 teaspoon anise extract 1 cup all-purpose flour Separate the eggs. In a large bowl, beat the yolks. Keep the whites to the side; take about a tablespoonful out and place it in a separate bowl.
Combine the beaten yolks with the sugar, oil, almonds, salt, baking powder, anise seed, and anise extract. Add the egg whites and mix well.
Preheat the oven to 375 degrees.
Roll the mixture into 4 long (27-inch) rolls. Add flour as necessary to bind the rolls and hold their shape. Place them on a cookie sheet, about 1 inch apart.
Place the cookie sheet in the oven and bake for 20 minutes.
Remove the sheet from the oven and brush the rolls with the reserved egg white. Cut the rolls into 3-inch strips.
Another favorite that we've discovered many Italian families enjoy was called crostoli by Grandma Lucy. These little pastries dusted in sugar melt in your mouth. It was one of the few recipes that crossed the Bonicelli border into Trigiani Land. Grandmom Trigiani became adept at making them as well. Viola was no laggard when it came to incorporating a great cookie into her dessert a.r.s.enal.
Crostoli MAKES 2 TO 3 DOZEN PASTRIES, DEPENDING ON THE SIZE OF THE PIECES.