Aunt Chick's Cookies

This is the original recipe for these delicious cookies. There is some disagreement in cyberland whether or not the original recipe used baking soda, but I dug out the old recipe index card and, sure enough, it lists baking soda. I think the soda is important as it causes the dough to rise slightly, making the impressions even more noticeable.

4-1/2 cups flour

1/2 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon baking soda

1-1/2 cups sugar

1 cup butter

3 eggs

1 teaspoon vanilla
 

Sift together flour salt, and baking soda. Set aside. Cream sugar and butter until light and fluffy.  Add eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition. Add vanilla and mix well. Wrap well and set in refrigerator to chill. Dough must be cold. Roll out 1/4-inch thick. Bake at 400 degrees for 10-15 minutes.

Any regular cookie cutter can be used, of course, if you don’t have Aunt Chick’s molds. But, if you get the bug to start this tradition in your family, you can get everything you need from Aunt Chick's granddaughter at

www.grammascutters.com

 Plus you can read more stories like this one as there is quite a large community of Aunt Chick cookie lovers out there.

Merry Christmas.

Aunt Katherine

Aunt Katherine was the celebrity in my husband’s family. During the 1920s, she had been a milliner in New York City and had moved to California to live with her sister and her sister’s husband Albert.

        

She lived among the stars. Laurel Canyon, where she called home, was in the Hollywood Hills, just outside Los Angeles. Long before the rock stars of the late 1960s moved to Laurel Canyon, it had been home to a long list of actors dating back to the silent film era. Albert had been the agent for one of these famous silent movie stars.

 

I first met her in 1960.  We visited her home, an English Tudor that she had been sharing with Albert since her sister had died. The house, perched on Laurel Canyon Boulevard about halfway to Point Look Out, was magnificent.  Her front yard boasted a gorgeous garden and magnificent trees among a spectacular view of the city below. It was magical.

       

 An immaculately dressed and coiffed near-eighty-year-old woman, she was one of the most fascinating people I have ever met. Her home was a  virtual showcase of antiques. Her demeanor was elegant. Her stories were legendary. 

 

I took an immediate liking to her and invited her and
Albert to visit us frequently. And, on one Thanksgiving Day, she was a bit surprised  when I served her a turkey with her own dressing: the one my mother-in-law had taught me to make a few years before.

 

Aunt Katherine's Dressing
The most difficult part of making this dressing is the chopping of vegetables, which is very time-consuming. But you will be rewarded with a dressing that is light and fluffy.
2 bunches celery
8 large onions
1/2 pound butter
2 loaves unsliced bread, stale, but not hard
salt and pepper
 

Dice celery and onions and put in large Dutch oven. Add butter, covedr, and cook over medium heat until vegetables are just al dente. Remove from heat. Cut crusts from bread and break into small pieces cubes. Add bread to vegetables a little at a time, tossing lightly just until mixture holds together. Do not add  more bread than it takes for the mixture to hold together. Let cool to room temperature. When cool enough to handle, stuff and truss the bird. Roast immediately.

11.19.09

Edna Lewis

Edna Lewis, whose name has become synonymous with Southern cooking, was a culinary legend in her own time. Born in Orange County, Virginia, Edna moved to New York and began her culinary career in the early 1940s.

It was a natural that Edna and I would become friends. Her frequent visits reminded her of the good food and good times she had during her early years in Orange County. She thoroughly enjoyed being in the kitchen at Willow Grove, cooking and sharing recipes with our chefs, and I loved her willingness to share recipes, techniques and stories. 

When she was growing up, chestnuts were as much a part of the fall nut harvest as hickory nuts, pecans, and black walnuts. Her grandfather had a stand of chestnut trees across the field from Willow Grove, and she often talked fondly about her memories of gathering around the fireplace to roast the chestnuts with her family. "The grownups would eat them while sipping sherry, " she would reminisce.

Delighted to have discovered Willow Grove and its rare chestnut tree, she became a frequent presence, providing endless advice and consultation to our chefs. She created and presided upon two of our most popular annual events: The Southern Cooking Extravaganza in August and the Chestnut Festival in November. People from far and near would gather at Willow Grove to pay homage to Edna as she, ever beautiful in her tie-dyed dresses and signature white topknot, would oversee preparation of her magnificent repertoire of Southern favorites prepared from the season's bounty.

A few years after the Chestnut Festival was established, Edna suggested that we do a cookbook since we had compiled so many recipes over the years. We gathered up the recipes and went to work revising and testing them for home use, calling upon Edna often for her crucial advice. The result was a blend of classic and traditional dishes which have been reworked to include chestnuts.  We are making this this book available for download. We had a lot of fun over the years experimenting with all the possibilities this versatile nut provides and thought you would enjoy trying our different variations on the chestnut.

I have also added a link in my store to the 30th anniversary publication of one of Edna's books. Check it out.

 

Edna's Roasted Pork Loin with Chestnuts
This flavorful dish is light on fat and bursting with taste. Chopped dried apricots make a nice addition to the stuffing.
5-pound boneless pork loin
1/2 cup celery, chopped
1 onion, chopped
1 tablespoon butter
1/2 pound ground pork
1 tablespoon chopped parsley
2 tablespoons brandy
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon pepper
1/8 teaspoon allspice

2 tablespoons pork drippings
3 tablespoons flour
2 cups chicken stock or broth
1 pound boiled chestnuts
1 teaspoon brandy
Salt and pepper

Have butcher butterfly pork loin. Pound light/y to even thickness. Cook celery and onion in butter until tender. Combine with ground pork, parsley, brandy, and seasonings. Spread over roast. Roll up roast and tie firmly. Roast in 350-degree oven until a meat thermometer reads 160 degrees. Remove from the oven and let rest 10-15 minutes. Remove pork loin from the pan. Pour off extra fat from drippings. Add flour and cook for one minute. Add chicken stock and cook over medium heat, stirring until mixture thickens. Add chestnuts and brandy. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Serve with sauce on the side.

11.04.09

TuTu

My grandmother's mother, TuTu, was a saint. Her husband, Papach, left Abruzzo twice a year, every year for ten years to go to South America to work on the building railroad, leaving her with the children to raise and the horrible political environment in Italy to endure.

 It was their dream to go to America and rear their family there, and they were willing to overcome whatever difficulties and sufferings they faced to achieve their dream. And they did. Pretty soon, Papach had earned enough money to get them passage to the U.S.

Once in America, they offered my grandfather a place to live and the blessings of marriage to their daughter, my grandmother. And, TuTu and Papach moved with them to Parkside.

My grandmother worked, even in those days. She had her own dressmaking business and, when my grandfather established himself, she also became his right arm.

So, TuTu assumed control of the house. There she took care of my father and his two brothers as well as her other daughter Carrie's two children. It was one very big and very happy household. My grandfather and grandmother had a business in the basement while TuTu took care of the house. She was the chief cook, chief mistress of the house, and chief bottlewasher. And, when she died at 92, I was only 8, but I remember her well.

I remember her stirring gravy at the stove, mending in the living room, doing dishes at the sink, scolding children in the yard. But mostly I remember her sitting in her last days in the rocking chair in her bedroom  (which, by the way she shared with her daugther, Aunt Carrie, and Carrie's daughters, Dottie and Maria) happy that we children had visited her. We loved to, of course, and she was always open-armed, reaching into the pocket of  her apron to get pennies to give us.

"TuTu," she would say, as she tapped the fingers of her right hand into the palm of her left, which held the pennies. "TuTu. TuTu. Pennies for you."

How fitting that such a saint would be buried the day after my sister and I, her great-grandchildren, dressed in their white dresses and veils, knelt before her an hour before we made our first communion.

TuTu's Chicken Minestra
This paired-down version of TuTu's minestra can be made in just a few hours, but the result is reminiscent of the soup that we cooked for hours years ago. Traditionally, to make this a minestrone, pasta should be added. But, if you want to add pasta, use ditali or small shells, and cook them separately, adding the cooked pasta to the dish just before serving. If left in the soup, the pasta will swell and result in overdone, mushy pasta.
1/2 pound pancetta or thick bacon
1 large onion, diced
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 cut-up chicken, 3 to 3-1/2 pounds
8 quarts water
3 new potatoes, cubed
4 cups canned San Marzano tomatoes
1 cup each fresh peas, corn, lima beans
1 cup cooked canellini beans
1 teaspoon fresh thyme
2 bay leaves
6 springs fresh flat leaf parsley
2 teaspoons salt
1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

Cut pancetta into matchstick-sized pieces and place in large stock pot. Sauté for a few minutes, until fat begins to render. Add onion and garlic and sauté until translucent. Add chicken and brown lightly on all sides.  Add water, cover pot, and bring just to a boil. Turn down the heat and simmer for 2 hours. Add potatoes, tomatoes, vegetables, thyme, bay leaves, parsley, salt, and pepper. Cook for about 30 minutes longer, stirring frequently. Adjust seasoning if necessary. Ladle into bowls and top with a generous amount of grated pecorino romano cheese.

10.8.09

 

Papach

My grandmother's father, Papach, brought his family to America in 1903, but not until  he had spent nearly ten years working on the railroad in South America. There was very little work in Italy in those days, so each year he would set out for the arduous three-month journey from Naples harbor in a dirty overcrowded ship. Once there, he would work for three to four months building the rails in the unbearable heat and then embark upon the three-month return journey to bring his earnings home to his young wife. After spending a month or two at home, he would begin the process all over again.

It was his dream to rear his young children in America, and he was willing to overcome whatever difficulties and sufferings he might face so that he could achieve his dream. And he did. By the time my grandmother was nine years old, he had saved enough money to book and pay for passage for the entire family.

Once in America, he was successful in establishing himself and his family in a close-knit Italian community in Philadelphia. And within a few years he had the resources to offer my young grandfather a place to live, to help him get established, and to give blessing to the marriage of his daughter. For this, my grandfather was forever grateful, and he brought both Papach and TuTu, my great-grandmother, to live with him and my grandmother when they moved to Parkside.

Papach loved New Jersey. He had missed the agricultural area of Abruzzo, and enjoyed many a day foraging wild greens and mushrooms from the verdant New Jersey countryside. Armed with a burlap bag in which to house his finds, he often walked ten miles each way, searching for the finest wild produce for the day's dinner.

Veal Marsala
This dish pays homage to my great grandfather and his daily trips foraging wild greens and mushrooms. It is a very easy dish to make, and it can be made up to an hour ahead. Simply cover the sautéed veal loosely and turn off burner once chicken stock is added. Just before serving, simmer the mixture until it reduces by half, add the veal, and follow the remaining directions.
2 pounds veal cutlets or thin slices from leg of veal
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
1/4 cup flour
4 tablespoons unsalted butter
3-6 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
2 medium shallots, finely chopped
4 ounces assorted mushrooms, sliced
2 medium shallots, minced (about 3 tablespoons)
4 garlic cloves, smashed
1/2 cup medium dry Marsala
1 cup chicken stock or broth
1sprig fresh rosemary
5 springs flat leaf parsley, finely chopped

 

Season the flour with salt and pepper and gently coat the veal with the flour mixture. Over medium heat, melt 2 tablespoons butter and 3 tablespoons oil in large heavy skillet. Add veal to the pan in a single layer and sauté, turning once, until golden brown. Transfer to a warm plate and continue until all veal is browned, adding more oil if necessary. Set veal aside. Add 1 tablespoon of butter and heat until melted. Add the shallots and the garlic. Sauté for about 1 minute. Add mushrooms and sauté until tender. Season with salt and pepper. Add the Marsala to the skillet and deglaze the pan by stirring and scraping up brown bits until liquid is reduced by half.  Add the chicken stock and leaves from the rosemary. Continue simmering until the mixture again reduces by half.  Return the veal and all pan juices to the skillet and simmer just until veal is heated through. Season with salt and pepper, turning to coat veal, about 1 minute. Stir the remaining 1 tablespoon of butter into the sauce. Season the sauce with salt and pepper to taste. Place veal on a warm plate. Spoon sauce over the veal and garnish with chopped parsley. Serve alongside fettuccine.

9.24.09

Grandpop

My grandfather, just a teenager in the early 1900s, did not set out for America by choice. Unlike many living in the poor economy and slow growth of Italy during the early 20th century, he came from a fairly well-to-do family. He also had both an education and a trade, having recently completed his tailor apprenticeship.

Italy was facing a time of extreme religious and political unrest since Mussolini was beginning to promote fascism as the answer to Papal dominancy. But a bit of a nonconformist, Grandpop was totally against fascism. The problem was that he was in love with the daughter of the fascist Duce (equivalent of a mayor) of his hometown of Tollo. A bit of a renegade, Grandpop didn’t refrain from speaking out against fascist principles, and he soon fell out of favor with the Duce, who ordered him to leave Italy. With no other choice, Grandpop boarded a ship, leaving behind his mother, father, and older sisters with their husbands and children.

Undaunted, but quite alone on the ship for several months, Grandpop befriended several older, wealthy men. Successful in demonstrating his acumen, he convinced them to help him start a business when they arrived in the U.S. They agreed, became both his mentors and his financiers, and found him a place to live with a good Italian family.

Grandpop and one of the daughters in the family took a shine to each other, and they soon married and began a family. He worked diligently to develop his fledgling business—Attilio Ciccotelli, Tailor of Distinction—and soon became very successful. Never to forget his heritage or his good fortune after such a challenging start, he arranged and paid for all his sisters and their families to join him in America.
 

Grandpop's Fig Salad
Obviously, my grandfather didn't cook, but he often cut up his figs and put them on the salad my grandmother made for dinner. I tried to concoct a recipe that would be worthy of  the figs Grandpop picked from his tree. 
3/4 cup walnuts, coarsely chopped
4 duck breasts, trimmed and scored
4 ounces pancetta sliced into thin strips
1/2 cup port
12 fresh figs quartered, stems removed
2 tablespoons balsamic vinegar
2 medium shallots, minced (about 3 tablespoons)
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/8 teaspoon ground black pepper
1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil
1 small red onion finely sliced
1 large bunch arugula, washed, dried, stems trimmed, and leaves torn into bite-size pieces (about 3 cups lightly packed)
1 small head curly endive (about 2 cups lightly packed)
1 small head escarole, washed, dried, and torn into bite-size pieces (about 4 cups lightly packed)
4 ounces gorgonzola, crumbled (about 1 cup)

 

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. In a small nonstick pan over medium flame toast walnuts until they are fragrant and lightly browned. Set aside to cool. Sauté pancetta in oven proof medium frying pan until fat is rendered. Remove pancetta from the pan and set aside. Pour off all but one or two tablespoons of the pancetta fat. Season duck breasts liberally with salt and freshly ground black pepper. Place fat side down into pan of reserved pancetta fat. Sauté over high heat for approx two minutes. Turn breasts over and sauté for another minute or until lightly browned. Pour off any excess fat. Turn breasts back to fat side down and place in oven for about four or five minutes until cooked to desired doneness. While duck breasts are in the oven, place port in a small pan and bring to a boil over high heat until reduced by half. Place the quartered figs into the saucepan and heat until barely warmed through. Using a slotted spoon, remove figs from the port and transfer to a clean plate, reserving the port in the saucepan. Remove breasts from the oven and allow to rest for a few minutes, keeping them warm. Slice diagonally. Whisk the balsamic vinegar, shallots, salt, pepper, and oil into the reduced port. Place the sliced red onion, arugula, curly endive, and escarole in a large bowl. Toss with the warm dressing. Arrange the greens on a large or individual plates. Place slices of duck on the greens. Sprinkle with the crispy pancetta, gorgonzola, and walnuts. Serve immediately. Serves four as a main course.

9.14.09

Mother

My mother was not Italian. Neither was she Catholic. Nor did she live in Parkside. Her mother was Pennsylvania Dutch and her father was an American Indian from the Delaware Lenape tribe. Her family were tea-totalling Baptists who lived in East Camden. Dad went to Camden High. She went to Woodrow Wilson. They met through a mutual high school friend.

It's not hard to understand that Mother’s life before she married my father could not have been more diametrically opposed to the life she led once she became part of the Ciccotelli clan. An only child, and orphaned by the time she was four, Mother was reared by an elder aunt and uncle. Unlike the gregarious Ciccotellis, Auntie and Uncle were quiet folks. They went to church regularly, spent quiet times together at home, and rarely entertained. They did not smoke. They did not drink. They did not play cards.  Their Sundays were spent in pensive reflection. There was no cooking. No cleaning. No mending.  Instead, they read or strolled around the neighborhood, window shopping or visiting neighbors or friends from the church. A contrast in extremes, the serenity at Auntie’s house was my mother’s haven from the raucous atmosphere at the Ciccotellis.

She dedicated her short life to my father and us children, spending most of her time cooking, baking, knitting, and making a wonderful home. She was the task-master of the family who kept us three girls towing the line. But she always had open arms for our friends and would not hesitate, at a moment's notice to ice a cake or make a pizza if we were having friends come to the house. A warm hostess, she kept our home filled with close friends and relatives, and there was nary a Sunday that our dinner table was not filled.

Mom's Four-Egg Cake
This cake is a bit time-consuming to make, but the result is well-worth the effort. Using room-temperature ingredients will yield a superior result.  Refrain from peeking in the oven, as this cake has a tendency to fall if the oven door is opened too soon. 
4 eggs
1 cup butter
2 cups sugar
3 cups sifted flour
4 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 cup milk

 

Grease and flour a 10-inch tube pan. Separate the eggs and set aside. Cream butter until light in color. Add the sugar and continue creaming until fluffy.  Add vanilla and blend well. Sift the flour with baking powder and salt. While beating on low speed, add the egg yolks one at a time, beating well after each addition. Add flour and milk alternately to the mixture. starting and ending with the flour, mixing well with each addition. Set aside. With clean beaters, beat egg whites until stiff but not dry. Fold egg whites gently into batter. Pour gently into tube pan. Bake 350 degrees for about one hour or until tester inserted one-inch from the tube comes out clean.

 

9.06.09

Dad

My father was born in Philadelphia and moved to Camden in 1922, when he was four years old. The first in our family to obtain a college degree, Dad was a fount of knowledge. He read encyclopedias for pleasure. He could recite logarithms from memory. He could translate binary in his head. He could talk in hex. He built us a television before most people had even heard of the technology. He collaborated on the invention of the diathermy machine. He was the first to buy IBM computing machines and set up a processing center for his business.

He was the apple of our eyes. A little more laid back in discipline, Dad was our refuge when Mother was, as we used to say, on the warpath. Although he would  never go against her, he was always willing to offer each of us some words of solace to get us through the storm.

Each of us three girls had a special personal relationship with him. It is interesting that, even though we were three sisters, each of us felt that he was our father and ours alone. This couldn't have been more evident than in the fact that each of us called him something different. He was Pop to my sister Lexy, Daddy to my sister Anita, and Dad to me.

Dad's wisdom and intellect were unparalleled by anyone we knew, and he was the driving force behind our scholarly ways. But, despite his intelligence, knowledge, and  education,  he was a very down-to-earth person with an uncanny sense of humor. Always the life of the party, he was one of the reasons people flocked to our home.

We were lucky to have him until he was 88, and though not a day went by that he didn't have some opinion about what we were doing, he never lost his sense of humor. As he lay in the hospital on the last day of his life, he said to my sister, "You know, Lexy, right now I'd really rather be one of  [Vice President] Cheney's hunting buddies."

Dad's Roasted Pepper and Olive Salad
This is a perfect salad for end-of-the season peppers. Use any color peppers you like, or use a variety for a beautiful presentation. Choose a heat source with an open flame, such as a gas stove burner or a grill. Lacking either of those, you can use a broiler. I prefer to leave the peppers uncovered while they cool as they tend to get too soft. The skins will still peel off easily and you will be rewarded with silky sweet peppers with a soft smoky flavor.
6 large sweet bell peppers
1 cup black and green olives, chopped
2 tablespoons capers
1 peperoncini, thinly sliced
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 small onion, chopped
2 sprigs fresh oregano, chopped
5 sprigs fresh flat leaf Italian  parsley, chopped
1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
1tablespoon balsamic vinegar
2 tablespoons toasted pine nuts

 

Roast the peppers over an open flame or under a broiler until the skin turns black.

Set aside to cool and then scrape off skins and seeds. Slice lengthwise into strips. Place in a bowl. Mix remaining ten ingredients and pour over peppers. Top with pine nuts. Toss to blend ingredients, cover and let stand at room temperature for several hours. Do not refrigerate or the delicate, smoky flavor will be destroyed.

 Serve as part of an antipasto, a side dish, or topping for your favorite sandwich.

8.30.09

Uncle Batty

A devout Catholic, Uncle Batty lived in South Camden with his mother and sister Iris. Iris never married, and we thought he was a confirmed bachelor until one day he introduced us to Alice. He was 37 and so in love. She was 22. "Could it possibly work?" we all asked. Who could even try to guess? But it didn't work, and Alice left him and for a younger man.

A real comedian, Uncle Batty brought endless love and laughter to our home. I  owe my love for classic popular music to him. For it was he who brought his collection of 40s 78 rpm records to our home, tutoring me on the band leaders and vocalists of the time. He had an amazing tenor voice, and he and I would listen to the records for hours at a time, singing to them at the top of our lungs. Is it any wonder that, to this day, I still remember all the words of almost every song?

Yes, he had some misfortune, but despite his tribulations, he never faltered in his faith and he remained a stalwart friend to my father for more than 70 years. And how lucky was I to have him as a pseudo uncle for more than 50. years!  Who can boast that today?

 

 

Uncle Batty's Seafood Stew

We love fresh-caught weakfish for this recipe, but weakfish are hard to find in a market, so any small bass or rockfish will do nicely instead.  And, while fillets can be used, pieces of whole fish, with skin and bones intact, will produce a much more complex flavor.  Just be sure to use the freshest weakfish you can find, handle it carefully, place it in one layer in the pot, and cook it just until it is opaque.  While the delicateness of the weakfish makes this a lighter-tasting stew, the fish tends to break apart easily. 
1/4 cup olive oil
2 cloves garlic, chopped
1 large onion chopped
3 pounds fresh weakfish
2 pounds fresh tomatoes, peeled, seeded, and chopped
5 sprigs fresh flat leaf Italian  parsley
1 large green pepper, chopped
5 large fresh basil leaves
3 sprigs fresh thyme
2 sprigs fresh oregano
1/2 teaspoon crushed pepper flakes
1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
2 cups dry white wine
1/2 pound small shrimp, peeled and deveined
12 littleneck clams
12 mussels
salt and freshly ground black pepper
1/3 cup roughly chopped flat leaf Italian parsley
 

Heat olive oil in a large Dutch oven. Add garlic and onion and sauté just until soft and translucent. Do not brown.  Add fish, skin side down, and sauté for 2-3 minutes. Add tomatoes, peppers, parsley, basil, pepper flakes, black pepper and white wine. Bring to a boil over medium heat, then simmer over low heat for 10 minutes.  Add shrimp and simmer another  10 minutes until shrimp turn red and fish becomes opaque.  Add clams and mussels and simmer about 5 minutes until they open. Taste and adjust seasonings. Top with parsley and serve immediately in warm soup bowls.

8.24.09

Aunt Carrie

A real flapper in the 20s, Aunt Carrie was  the only relative I knew who was divorced—a travesty in our Catholic family. Our family tried to keep this all hush-hush, but it didn't work because Aunt Carrie didn’t care.

My grandmother's younger sister, Aunt Carrie had thick black hair that seemed to have been dyed with a dark blue tint and a well-endowed body of which she was not at all self-conscious. She dressed to the nines, never leaving the house without her heavy black mascara and bright red lipstick. The party animal of the family, she loved to eat, to drink, to dance. Always smiling or laughing, she was always game for a good time. It never even surprised us to see her climb up on the piano in a bar and sing a song. The memory of her tapping her foot on the piano makes me smile still today:

I'm looking over a four leaf clover   That I overlooked before.

One leaf is sunshine The second is rain Third is the roses that bloom in the lane.

No need explaining, the one remaining is somebody I adore.

I'm looking over a four-leaf clover that I overlooked  before.

 

Aunt Carrie's Steamed Mussels or Clams

with Garlic, Wine and Fresh Herbs
Be sure to cook more than a dozen mollusks for each person if you want to have leftovers. You can make a quick pasta sauce by removing the leftover  mollusks from their shells and adding them, along with a little of the remaining liquid, to GramMom's Crazy Gravy. Or you could combine the leftover shellfish with chopped olives, roasted red peppers, fresh garlic, lemon, and olive oil to make a topping for toasted Italian bread. This would be delicious with a glass of Pinot Grigio after a walk on the beach.
4 dozen live mussels or clams
8 tablespoons olive oil
1 small onion, chopped fine
4 garlic cloves, minced
1/2 teaspoon crushed pepper flakes
1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
2 cups dry white wine
4 cups bottled clam juice
1/4 cup flat leaf Italian parsley, chopped
1/4 cup fresh basil, chopped
salt and freshly ground black pepper

 

Scrub shellfish and debeard mussels. Heat 4 tablespoons of the olive oil in a large pot. Add onion and sauté over medium high heat until onions are just translucent. Add garlic and sauté just until soft. Do not brown. Pour in wine and clam juice. Add red pepper flakes and freshly ground black pepper. Simmer for one to two minutes until mixtures begins to boil. Add shellfish, cover pot, and steam just until the shellfish open. Discard any that do not open. Remove shellfish and place one dozen in each of four large warmed soup bowls. Add remaining olive oil, chopped parsley, and chopped basil to the liquid in the pot. Taste and adjust seasonings. Pour sauce over mussels and serve with crusty Italian bread to sop up the juices.

8.18.09

GramMom

My father's mother, and my namesake, Angela Pulcinelli came to the U.S. with her father, mother, brothers, and sisters when she was 9. Her father, Papach to me, worked building the railroad in South America until he had saved enough money to bring his young family to America. Her mother, TuTu to me, stayed in Abruzzi and cared for the children until her husband could send for her.

They settled in South Philadelphia, and my grandmother became an accomplished seamstress. She started her own business, one of the very few women to do so in those early years of the 1900s. By the time she was 20, she was  making wedding gowns and funeral dresses for much of the society in Philadelphia.

I have no idea how many years of working in South America it took Papach to save enough money to go back to Italy and arrange for his family to move to the U.S. But I know that we all will be forever grateful for the sacrifices they made.

GramMom's Crazy Gravy

with Fresh Tomatoes and Basil

Make this dish with the freshest, juiciest , most ripe tomatoes and you will be rewarded with a sauce redolent with the aromas of summer.  If fresh tomatoes are not available or in season, a good canned tomato such as the San Marzano will produce a much better sauce than will a hot-house tomato. And, since tomatoes lose their flavor and become mealy when refrigerated, remember that you should, to coin Chiquita Banana, "never put tomatoes in the refrigerator, no, no, no, no."
12 large fully ripe tomatoes
4 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
4 cloves garlic, chopped
30 large fresh basil leaves
1/2 cup dry white wine
salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 pound pasta

 

Cover tomatoes with boiling water for one to two minutes. Score an X on the bottom of the tomato and peel off the skin. Remove seeds, reserving as much pulp as possible. Chop tomato into bite-sized pieces. Heat the olive oil in a deep skillet and sauté the garlic until it turns golden, being careful not to burn.  Add chopped tomatoes and cook on medium heat for about 5 minutes. Add wine, salt and pepper and cook for another  5 minutes.  In the meantime, cook pasta in at least 6 quarts salted boiling water. Chop basil leaves and add to tomatoes. Simmer for another minute or two. Adjust seasonings. When pasta is al dente, drain, reserving some of the cooking liquid. Add pasta to the tomato mixture, adding a little of the reserved cooking liquor if necessary. Toss and heat slightly to meld flavors. Garnish with fresh basil and serve immediately topped with Pecorino Romano.

8.12.09