The Literate Chef

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Our Italian Thanksgiving

In General Articles on May 12, 2011 at 12:55 PM

In the fall of 1997, our younger daughter spent a semester abroad in Florence. Missing her greatly after ten weeks, my wife and I flew to Milan on the Sunday before Thanksgiving. Upon landing we took a bus into the central city and caught a train down to Florence, where we had booked ‘a room with a view‘ at the Hotel Pensione Pendini for six nights.

Hotel Pensione Pendini - A Room with a View

Arriving in the city around 6:00pm, after traveling for about 18 hours, we took a taxi from the Santa Maria Novella Railway Station to the Pendini, which is centrally located on the Piazza della Repubblica.

We had been to Florence once before, in the summer of 1970, but for only two days while on a whirlwind tour of Italy. So not only were we thrilled to be seeing our daughter, but looking forward to the prospect of spending a leisurely week exploring the city, its museums: The Uffizi, The Accademia, The Pitti Palace and The Bargello; its churches: The Duomo, Santa Croce, Santa Maria Novella, San Miniato and The Brancacci Chapel; and the surrounding countryside, all without the usual crush of summer tourists.

Our daughter was living in a section of Florence known as Oltrarno, which translates to ‘across the Arno‘, the river that bisects the city. Her apartment on the Via Maggio near the Boboli Gardens was shared with a friend and is a short walk from the Pendini, which is located on the northern side of the Arno River.

During the days that she was in class, my wife and I toured the city. On her days off she joined us. Having her show us around to her favorite spots and translate for us was a treat. It was great for her too, not only because we picked up the tab, but with our rental car, she got see the Tuscan hill towns of San Gimignano and Volterra, which otherwise would have been difficult for her to visit.

Firenze from the Piazzale Michelangelo

In the evenings we had some great meals at restaurants such as: Il Latini, Mama Gina and Trattoria Cammillo. On Thanksgiving Day, which of course is not a holiday in Italy, my wife and I decided to treat our daughter and four other homesick American students doing their ‘semester abroad’, to ‘Thanksgiving Dinner’ at Borgo Antico, a local restaurant which the girls frequented regularly.

Since turkey with all of the Thanksgiving trimmings was not on the menu, I decided on a vegetarian pasta dish consisting of rigatoni, eggplant and black olives. It was excellent and tasted even better with my share of the six bottles of Chianti Riserva that were shared by all. As a matter of fact, the combination of wine, youthful high spirits exhibited by the young ladies and the heady idea of a group of Americans celebrating America’s most traditional holiday in a city that is more than 2,000 years old, dating back to Julius Caesar, was such that I have no recollection of the rest of the meal. I do remember thinking that we, and hopefully our daughter and her friends, would remember this Thanksgiving for the rest of their lives.

Firenze-Oltrano

In attempting to re-create this memorable pasta dish several iterations with the eggplant were necessary. First I added raw eggplant to the tomato-based sauce and discovered that it lacked flavor, so I tried roasting it first and that helped. But I also found that the ½ inch-cubed eggplant pieces were too small, as a result it broke down and almost disappeared as it cooked in the sauce; one inch cubes worked better. Some still broke down, but most retained their shape thus enhancing the combination of pasta, eggplant and olives. Initially, I had used regular sized eggplants but found them to be a little too bitter for my palate. I then experimented with the smaller ‘Italian’ variety and found them to be more to my liking. But if you cannot find them, by all means try the larger sized ones.

Here then is the recipe for my re-creation of that hearty pasta dish whose name on the menu of Borgo Antico also slips my mind. I named it Rigatoni all’ Oltrarno in honor of the section of Firenze in which Borgo Antico is located. I have read that Tuscans have an abiding love of beans, accordingly, they became known in other Italian regions as mangiafagioli, (bean eaters). Lest you think that this is a blog only for the ‘mangiapasta‘, please continue at: Basta Pasta!

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I Found This Dish in San Francisco, High on Russian Hill it Called to Me

In General Articles on May 8, 2011 at 4:42 PM

Penne Arrabiata, another family favorite, resulted from a business trip to San Francisco in the mid 80s. At that time, I was enmeshed in the corporate life and frequently traveled on business. Dinners with clients and local associates were usually an integral part of these trips and I looked upon them as recompense for the hardships of business travel.

One of my favorite cities is San Francisco, which my wife I had first visited in the summer of 1968. We fell in love with ‘That City by the Bay‘ and I wanted to permanently relocate there, but for numerous reasons that never occurred. As a result, I always looked forward to trips back to San Fran (never ‘Frisco’?), whether for business or pleasure.

On this particular trip a group of us were taken to Allegro on Russian Hill, the favorite restaurant of our West Coast Regional Vice President. He was such a regular at Allegro that his autographed picture hung on the wall alongside numerous and more recognizable luminaries than he. Perusing the menu for the pasta course, I noted that among the usual dishes of Baked Ziti, Linguini with Clam Sauce and Rigatoni Bolognese, was something called Penne Arrabiata, which was new to me.

The waiter explained that penne was a hollow-shaped pasta somewhat like ziti, but smaller and with pointed ends like a quill pen. Also that Arrabiata was a spicy tomato-based sauce that meant angry; an allusion to the hot pepper, which is integral to the sauce. Having grown up with Dorothea’s Homemade Hot Pepper Sauce, that sounded right up my alley, so I ordered it for a first course and became immediately addicted. So memorable was the Penne Arrabiata that I have long since forgotten what I ordered for the main course.

Since my first trip to the West Coast in 1968, I have noted that trends, fads and fashions tend to originate there and move eastwards. That seems to me to have been the case with our current obsessions with food, wine and most of all coffee…think Starbucks! In the mid 1980s,  penne was not as ubiquitous as it is today, and I dare say, was practically unknown in most sections of the country. Penne Arrabiata was even more obscure. Or maybe, I was just oblivious to them both. I think that today, penne appears to be fairly common on restaurant menus across the country; there is Penne alla Vodka, Penne Pasta (a redundancy?) with Vegetables and even Penne Arrabiata on the more adventurous menus.

When I returned to New York after that dinner in San Francisco, I described Penne Arrabiata to my wife and daughters and they suggested that I undertake its replication. I thought long and hard about the ingredients and the process, but it would take about ten tries to perfect it to my liking and to come as close to what I remembered it from that night at Allegro.

My first problem was in finding penne. Most of the local supermarkets had limited depth in the pasta area, certainly not like it is today. There were shells (conchiglie) fettuccine, linguini, spaghetti, thin spaghetti (spaghettini), angel hair (capellini), rigatoni, ziti, even ditali and ditalini in some stores, but no penne. So, initially, I made it with ziti, but the ziti were too large and too smooth and didn’t hold the sauce well. Eventually, I found penne in some specialty food stores. However, the penne available at that time was smooth like ziti, and thus, like its counterpart, the sauce did not adhere to it as well as I would have liked. Then I discovered Penne Rigate, which had little lengthwise ridges for retaining the sauce. Perfetto! It appears that pasta maker Barilla eventually discontinued the smooth penne and dropped the word rigate, so that now Barilla produces only one kind of penne, ridged.

Beside the other obvious ingredients of olive oil, tomatoes, hot pepper, and basil, there was garlic. However, garlic was not visible in the dish and the flavor was more one of deeply-browned, but not burned, garlic. After several attempts, I realized that the Chef at Allegro must have removed the garlic after he had browned it in the oil thus giving it that smooth garlic base. I experimented with just how far to brown the garlic without burning it and making the dish inedible.

I also noted that there was very little liquid to the sauce, it was redolent of tomatoes, but they were chunky, not soupy. I first tried draining the tomatoes straight from the can, it was still too soupy. Next I chopped the tomatoes and then drained them of their natural water, close, but still not yet exactly right. Then one day I read about San Marzano tomatoes and how they were riper, meatier and had less liquid in the can as compared to other types. That was it, perfection in a can and the solution to the tomato dilemma!

Then there came the problem of how much hot pepper…one teaspoon was too little and one tablespoon was too much. One time I made it for my daughter and her friends and it was apparently not well received, as the next time my daughter asked me to make it, she requested that I tone down the hot pepper.

In the 1980s, finding basil outside of the summer season used to be a problem as well; but thankfully, that is no longer the case.

I recently looked for Allegro online and found Allegro Romano on Russian Hill, which is a fairly new restaurant, having opened in 2004, but it appears to be in the same location as the Allegro where I was first introduced to Penne Arrabiata. I hope to return to San Francisco and see if they have Penne Arrabiata on the menu and if so, how it compares to my version, the recipe for which can be found at…Da’s Penne Arrabiata.

If you have read these articles this far, you no doubt have come to the realization that pasta (or macaroni as Big Mike referred to it) is a big hit in our family and that travel is also a passion. Next stop on these global peregrinations is Florence Italy, where in 1997, we celebrated Our Italian Thanksgiving.

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Pasta Fagioli or Pasta Fazool?

In General Articles on April 18, 2011 at 2:17 PM

In June 2000, my wife and I along with two other couples, friends of many years with whom we had traveled extensively, spent a glorious week in a rented villa called Solaria, which is located in the Tuscan hilltown of Vagliagli. Vagliagli is a small town about 9 miles north of Siena on the road to Radda in Chianti and Castellina in Chianti, two larger and better-known towns. Each day, we piled into our rented van and explored the numerous hilltowns in the vicinity, beside the two mentioned above, and the city of Siena. These included: Colle di Val d’Elsa, Cortona, Monteriggioni, San Gimignano, Volterra and, of course, Florence (Firenze). We never had a bad meal or bad wine in any one of them and the weather was perfect the entire week.

When the rental was over, one couple went on to Germany and the other returned to the States, while my wife and I took off for Venice by train, where we planned to stay for a full, glorious week. We had been to Venezia on two previous occasions, both for very brief visits. One was in the summer of 1970 on our first trip to Italy, and at that time, we stayed for only two days. The second was even shorter; one bleak wintery day in November 1997, when we took the train up from Florence, where we were visiting our younger daughter during her semester abroad. On that occasion, we left Santa Maria Novella Station on a 5:30 am train and returned there about 1:00 am, having spent only 10 hours in Venice and either on trains or waiting for them the remainder of the time.

Visiting Venice the first time, we fell in love with the La Serenisima and afterwards read extensively both fiction and non-fiction books centered around its people, history and architecture. This longer third visit provided us with the perfect opportunity to explore many of its treasures at a leisurely pace. On one of those excursions, through the alleys of Dorsoduro, we came upon an unexpected treasure which resulted in another favorite family recipe. We had spent the morning at the Peggy Guggenheim Museum, which fronts on the Grand Canal. I had read a review in Gourmet Magazine on a fabulous Venetian seafood restaurant, Antica Trattoria La Furatola located at 2870a Calle Lunga de San Barnaba, Dorsoduro, less than ½ mile from the museum. We were hungry after touring the museum and from the map thought this close by. However, after a frustrating 45 minutes of innumerable twists and turns through alleys and piazzas, crossing and re-crossing canals, we finally came upon the restaurant, only to discover that it was closed for lunch on Wednesdays.

But our disappointment quickly turned to serendipity, as we discovered a tiny, unassuming treasure just down the alley from La Furatola. We had walked right past it earlier but failed to take notice, as we were so focused on finding La Furatola. When we walked through the door of Enoteca Osteria – Sandro and inhaled the aromas emanating from the kitchen, we wondered if it would be a suitable place for lunch. Any hesitation we might have felt was quickly removed by Sandro’s warm welcoming smile. He asked if we would like to sit in the back courtyard, which we welcomed since it was a beautiful sunny, blue sky day. I asked him what smelled so good; he said it was his Pasta Fagioli, which may be known more familiarly as Pasta Fazool!

We shared a bottle of chilled white wine from the Friuli region and I ordered the Pasta Fagioli, while my wife ordered pasta with gorgonzola and zucchini. Sandro’s Pasta Fagioli was unlike any Pasta Fazool I had ever eaten prior to that revelatory day. First, it lacked the tomato base that was such a prevalent ingredient in my mother’s recipe; second, it was redolent with herbs, which seemed to me to be sage and rosemary; and third there was a distinct salted pork flavor, which I thought might be prosciutto. Later, after much experimentation and consulting of several cookbooks (ones which were focused more on Northern Italian style cooking, rather than the Southern Italian style that I had grown up with) I developed my recipe for Pasta e Fagioli alla Veniziana. I hope one day to return to Venice and to thank Sandro for inspiring me to try to develop this version of Pasta Fazoole, which is a favorite meal among our family and friends.

Another big favorite in our home is a pasta dish that I developed after a visit to that ‘famous city by the bay’. Read all about it in: I Found This Dish in San Francisco, High on Russian Hill it Called to Me.

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Eat It! It’s Good for You!

In General Articles on April 17, 2011 at 9:06 PM

‘Eat it,’ my mother insisted, ‘broccoli rabe is good for you. It is full of iron and vitamins and it will help you go to the bathroom.’ Words any child with sense would immediately cringe at; almost as bad as ‘eat your liver’ because you won’t be able to leave the table until you do. As a child and teenager, I recoiled from eating broccoli rabe because it was bitter, smelly, soggy and overcooked. Then one day, when I was in my twenties, attending the Feast of San Gennaro, which is held annually on Mulberry Street in Little Italy, downtown Manhattan, I was drawn to a sausage stand by the aroma of freshly grilled sausage, fried peppers and onions. They had the usual hot sausage and sweet sausage, plus a third kind, which I had never seen before. The cook told me it was made by mixing chopped broccoli rabe with pork and spices before stuffing it into the sausage casing. Being adventurous, I tried one and was pleasantly surprised at how the spiciness and sweetness of the sausage meat provided a perfect counterpoint to the bitterness of the broccoli rabe.

As time passed, I began to notice in the pasta section of the menus at several Italian restaurants, Orecchiette with Broccoli Rabe and Sausage. It had probably been there all along, but I am sure that my brain never noticed it because of my earlier aversion to the vegetable. Remembering the delicious sausage from the Feast, I worked up the courage to finally order it from one of those restaurants. The combination of chopped broccoli rabe and sliced sausage was the perfect accompaniment to the al dente pasta. As I mentioned earlier in Everybody has a Story, trying to re-create a dish that was first consumed in a restaurant is challenging and fun. This was one of them. I first tried making it with sliced sausage, then with cubes of cooked sausage, but neither of these seemed to appeal to me. After several variations I finally hit upon the best method to my taste, which is removing the sausage meat from the casing, blanching, chopping and then sautéing the broccoli rabe in garlic, adding some hot pepper and white wine, and mixing it all together.

I hope that you, your family and friends enjoy this recipe as much as I and mine do. Mother was right as usual, broccoli rabe is good for you, it is full of iron and vitamins, and when mixed together with sausage and pasta, it is irresistible. So, all of you mothers and fathers out there, this is a good way to get your child to eat his or her veggies! Mangia!

My mother also made a delicious one dish meal that she called Pasta Fazool. Actually many Italian-Americans refer to this macaroni and bean dish similarly. But it wasn’t until I spent some time in Italy that I found out that over there, particularly in Northern Italy, which has a totally different dialect from that of Southern Italy, it is called Pasta e Fagioli. Please read Pasta Fagioli, or Pasta Fazool? to find out more about this controversy.

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Another of Big Mike’s Favorites

In General Articles on April 9, 2011 at 3:15 PM

Another pasta dish that was a memorable staple growing up in my family, one which we introduced to our children and they loved as well, was Linguine with Cauliflower Sauce. With this pasta dish the memory is olfactory. First, the less than pleasant smell of boiling cauliflower, quickly, and thankfully, followed by that of sautéed garlic, then the exquisite aroma of the finished product, which of course contains both Locatelli Romano cheese and Dorothea’s Homemade Hot Pepper Sauce.

This pasta dish (sorry Dad – macaroni dish) was another favorite of my father and was great during those meatless Fridays when Catholics had to ‘suffer’ by abstaining from meat. When it comes to food, Italians have a knack for turning suffering into a joyful feast; just think La Vigilia the Christmas Eve Feast of the Seven Fishes!

See the recipe for Linguine with Cauliflower Sauce for the technique of preparing this delicious dish.

If you have any of this pasta dish leftover, which is highly unlikely in my house, then you are really lucky and you can use ‘the leftovers’ to make Crispy, Fried, Leftover Linguine with Cauliflower Sauce.

Of course my father was not the only cook in the house, my mother also had her repertoire, which was frequently focused on what was good for you. Please read Eat It! it’s Good for You!, to get a better understanding of what I mean.


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Pasta Memories

In General Articles on April 9, 2011 at 3:00 PM

My earliest Pasta Memory, one filled with nostalgia for the simpler times in life, is Spaghetti with Del Monte Sauce. This was a ritual many Friday nights in our 3½ room apartment in the Inwood neighborhood of northern Manhattan, when I was growing up in the 1940s and 50s. First came the savory aroma of sliced garlic sautéed in hot olive oil, then the pungency of dried oregano added to the pan, finally the sizzling sound of canned Del Monte tomato sauce as it hit the hot oil and the fragrant aroma of tomato was released into the apartment. With the water for the spaghetti already at a boil, dinner was less than 15 minutes away.

My father, Big Mike, the designated Friday night cook, (he learned to cook from his mother, but I suspect that he perfected this meal while serving with the CCC out West) would sample the macaroni (he never called it ‘pasta’) after about 9 minutes of boiling and announce that it was al dente; that was the signal that we should take our seats at the table. After draining the spaghetti in a colander, (a ‘skoola pasta‘, in the Sicilian dialect he learned from his immigrant mother) he would return it to the pot, mix in the sauce, stir it well and scoop it into bowls. The spaghetti was always accompanied by freshly grated Locatelli Romano cheese, which was to be sprinkled liberally over it, by all. All that is, except my mother, Dorothea, who disdained cheese on her macaroni, as she claimed it detracted from the flavor of the sauce. Instead, she would heap one or two teaspoonfuls of her homemade Hot Pepper Sauce onto her bowl, as if that did not detract from the flavor of the sauce! She then proceeded to cut the spaghetti with a knife and fork and eat it with a spoon, so as to ‘get the spaghetti together with the sauce in one mouthful’.

Big Mike working for the CCC (circa 1934)

After my wife and I married, Spaghetti with Del Monte Sauce became a regular meal in our household, though not every Friday night, as it was quick, easy, inexpensive and delicious. Big Mike had another pasta dish that he enjoyed cooking and eating, and Another of Big Mike’s Favorites was also a regular Friday night dinner.

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Everybody Has a Story

In General Articles on April 9, 2011 at 2:52 PM

Everybody has a story. It is how these stories are conveyed that determines the ability of the storyteller to attract the attention of the listeners. The same may be said of food. Everybody is capable of preparing a meal, but it is how the food is prepared and presented that attracts those for whom it is prepared and whether or not it will be memorable.

Growing up in my family, mealtime, primarily dinner, was always a special time for us. When my father came home for work at the Post Office, we would sit down together to eat and to discuss the day. On Sunday’s, after Mass, invariably we would gather with my aunts, uncles and cousins at Grandma & Grandpa’s apartment off of Webster Avenue in The Bronx. We called it ‘Grandma & Grandpa’s’, but the apartment was actually that of my aunt and uncle, the building superintendent. Those meals were the most memorable!

Grandpa & Me in Inwood Park

Grandma with Cousin Bobby

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Those memories actually begin with the anticipation and excitement of being all together, eating delicious food, hearing new and often repeated family stories, as well as the jokes and laughter that accompanied each anecdote. Upon walking into the building lobby, taking that first breath and inhaling the aromas emanating from their apartment, we knew that an enjoyable time awaited us.

As my wife and I began to raise our own family and entertain relatives and friends, we first learned to cook basic meals. Then we began to experiment with more elaborate ones. The ones I liked best were those where we tried to re-create a dish, after experiencing something in a restaurant. We would play the guessing game: What ingredients made this particular dish unique? What spices were added? What cooking method did the chef employ? How did he prepare that sauce? Imitation is said to be the sincerest form of flattery, well if that is the case then we flattered a lot of chefs over the years.

What follows are stories from some of those meals, both original meals, as well as those which we re-created, accompanied by recipes for one or more of the dishes that comprised the meal and made it so memorable.

Please Continue to: Pasta Memories

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How to Cook Like an Italian Grandmother

In General Articles on April 9, 2011 at 2:48 PM

Food, from its raw state to its ultimate consumption, is a sensual journey. From the acquisition of the ingredients, through the process of preparation, presentation and consumption, the senses of sight, smell and taste, almost always come into play. However, the two other senses, sound and touch, are no less important to our overall enjoyment of food, even though they are not always present during each food experience.

As more of us dine out, or purchase prepared foods, the sense of sound usually experienced in the preparation of food is lost, unless of course, you are eating in a restaurant with an open kitchen. Similarly, in many dining out experiences, formal or otherwise, unless it is finger-food like passed hors d’oeuvres, or hand-food such as barbecued ribs, the sense of touch is not necessarily evident.

Certain foods frequently take us back through time to our childhood, or to particularly memorable moments in our lives. Who among us having grown up in a large city, has not, when walking past a ‘Jewish’ deli, and inhaling that heady aroma of a combination of grilled frankfurters, steamed corned beef and pastrami, mixed with the pungency of dill and new pickles, recalled a time from their childhood when they were treated to a similar experience?

Having grown up in the northern Manhattan neighborhood of Inwood in the 1940s and 50s, living with my parents and younger sister, I, like many of my friends and contemporaries was fortunate to have had those food experiences, as well as others, many times over. I can still recall hot summer afternoons and the Jewish deli that used to be on the southwest corner of Vermilyea Avenue and 207th Street. Its aroma would hit me full in the face as I walked into the store, awakening my salivary glands in anticipation to the treats ahead. Then the crunch, the heat, the powerful salty taste, moderated by the yeasty freshness of the bun, as I first bit into a sizzling hot dog, just off the grill. To be followed by the greasy yet crisp feel of French fries served in a paper cup, each of which was coated with salt grains that clung to it and ketchup that cooled its heat. As I savored this combination of flavors, all five senses were certainly going strong!

Equally vivid in my memory bank  is walking into the Pizza Haven, inhaling the aroma of garlic, fresh basil, tomato sauce and yeast. I can still recall the sensation of that first slice of ‘fresh from the oven’ hot pizza, as the mozzarella clung to and burned the roof my mouth!

My forays into the pizza parlor were a secret kept from my grandmother and mother, each of whom took great pride in her ability to create a memorable meal for her family.

What we have attempted to do with theliteratechef.com is to entertain and share with you some of our memories while giving you some cooking ideas to introduce to your family and friends. Hopefully you will find them easy to implement and they will become part of your memories as well.

Please Continue to: Everybody Has a Story