FOOD FOR THOUGHT...

I have a love/hate relationship with food. On one hand I really love food. I enjoy eating to the point it is a more of a pleasure than a necessity. I enjoy cooking, scouting out new recipes, and trying different foods. My grandfather, uncles, parents and brother, all had Italian restaurants at one time or another, so I was raised in an atmosphere of tomato sauce and pasta (or as genuinely known by Italian Americans: macaroni and gravy)!.

My favorite family restaurant was my Uncle Matty's which was stereo-typical; but to me -- charming, nonetheless. Subtly lit, it was quaint and brick-walled. Of course, there was the required fresco -- the focal point of the dining room, centered on the large, plastered wall depicting the hills overlooking the Bay of Naples. And the floor was scattered with groupings of wooden, pretzel back chairs and tables covered in red checkered cloths, centered with dripping, candled Chianti bottles with straw bottoms.

When we visited our relatives' restaurants during business hours, there was the food that was served to the patrons, and the 'family food' made especially for us.

But on the day when the restaurants were closed, typically Mondays, the extended families would get together on a semi-regular basis and each would contribute his/her specialty to an ensuing feast.

The antipasto was usually provided by the host of the family dinner. A palate of mixed colors, various textures and varieties of cured meats, soft and hard cheeses, assorted condiments and vegetables, it more than included a daily allowance from the entire food pyramid, and accompanied with crusty Italian bread or sesame bread sticks, it was easy to forget this was only the appetizer.

There was also stuffed mini-eggplant, stuffed artichokes and stuffed mushrooms. Do you see a pattern here??? No vegetable was edible unless prepared with olive oil, bread crumbs, capers, garlic and/or assorted sharp cheeses.

My uncle Al, the hunter, provided venison or rabbit, which was marinated in herbs, spices, wine, and cooked in a tomato based stew which was truly memorable. During different seasons, different game was brought to the table such as roasted pheasant, duck or quail. During the summer, fish took over as his contribution which included stripe bass, blue fish, blow fish, fluke, flounder, whatever was the catch of the day.

There was always home-made macaroni and gravy, which my parents took the honors of making and preparing. (We had a cotton sheet, which was used exclusively for the drying of the macaroni, which usually took overnight, so someone had to sleep on the couch). Of course the gravy had meatballs as big as tennis balls, hot and sweet sausage, spare ribs, rolled, seasoned pork skin, and rolled stuffed flank steak (brasole). My mother had a thing for rolling up meat.

My grandmother would make polenta, trippa, calamari, scungilli salad, picked or fried eels, baccala (salted, dried cod) and other yucky delicacies, which I usually passed up, for the more traditional and identifiable fare. (By the way, when in doubt, we were assured anything questionable was chicken; however, it didn't work well with the split,roasted lamb's head whose eye and tongue silently refuted the lie).

My Aunt Minnie's specialty was dessert. Her cannoli were to die for --and yes, she made her own shells! But she also made all the holiday specialties, including the Christmas honey balls, wheat and meat pies, Easter sweet egg bread, St. Joseph's pastries, zeppoli, and a ricotta cheese cake that was truly her masterpiece.

My Uncle Paul was the winemaker, as well as the master of liqueurs. (Won't go into where he got the alcohol to make them, but it's not too difficult to figure out. Remember we were from the neighborhood). We kids were allowed to have wine mixed liberally with soda, usually lemon or ginger ale, since the homemade wine was exceptionally potent.

After the big feast, the women cleaned up, while the men had their traditional card game as the large jugs of wine passed back and forth amidst the players and billowing wisps of cigar and cigarette smoke, and we children ran around until we finally conked out in the corners of the room.

Waking up to the sounds of the inevitable argument between the men or woman or both, shouting aimlessly above the crescendo of each other's loudly-pitched voices, whatever the topic, it was believed to shout and scream was the only way to score a valid point in the heated debate. To watch this spectacle of frustration was almost comical. With no listeners to the other's point of view, there were no winners, nor changes of opinions, just very animated, gestured discourse. To end the fruitless fracas, my great uncle would get out his mandolin, my father would strum (badly)on a guitar, and the family would sing Italian classics to bring harmony once again to the table.

Before going home, it was time for the best course -- dessert. All Aunt Minnie's heavenly creations were displayed front and center amidst fruit platters, finnochio(fennel),roasted nuts, espresso, peaches and/or cherries soaked in wine, spumoni, and an assortment of Uncle Paul's finest liqueurs. The pause between the main course and the final one was over, and at last it was time for my favorite part of the meal. Yum!

The official end of the dinner was ceremoniously signaled by the men, who unbuckled their trouser belts -- the true rating of a Italian gourmand - one notch or two -- which determined how successfully the dinner met with approval!


So perhaps -- this -- one of my earliest memories of food, is why I have a semi-sweet love affair with the culinary side of life. Why not join me in the delights of childhood's lost memories with every bite!

Bon appetito, mi amici!





- posted by rosemary @ 7:00 AM