The Literate Chef

Posts Tagged ‘arthur avenue’

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Luigi the Barber

In General Articles on July 28, 2013 at 11:20 AM

That bastion of the male world, the Barber Shop, with its candy-striped pole, leather strop and copies of the Police Gazette lying around for your perusal as you wait for your favorite barber to call you next, may have for the most part disappeared; but the art of conversation between a man and his barber (for want of a gender-neutral term) has not. For the past 30 or more years I have had my hair cut by Luigi, who with his brother Enzo, runs “The Isaia Hairstyling Salon” in the Riverdale section of The Bronx.

Luigi (Louie) and Enzo emigrated with their parents from a town near Salerno in the Campania region of Italy when they were children. They started life in America in the Belmont section of the Bronx, also known as Arthur Avenue. When Louie was a stylist working at Vidal Sassoon in Manhattan, he was known as Bernard. That name stayed with him for a time after he left, but eventually he became Louie once again, as the brothers’ own business began to flourish, back in Da Bronx.

When my hair used to grow more quickly, I’d schedule a visit to Louie about once every 4 or 5 weeks. These days visits are usually 8 to 10 weeks apart, and it’s not because I’m letting my hair grow longer, there’s just less of it to cut. So I figure that Louie and I have had at least 250 conversations over the years. We’ve discussed politics, sports, the economy, crime, religion, family and the changes in the neighborhood. But every visit has included a conversation on our two favorite topics, movies (principally Italian Cinema) and food.

Louie enjoys cooking and sometimes, when he knows I am coming in for a haircut, he surprises me, as he recently did, with something he whipped-up the previous night. On our most recent visit to our hometown New York, which included a haircut from Louie, the surprise was Mussels Marinara, not with linguine, nor tagliatelle nor penne or some of the more fashionable cuts of macaroni, but with good, old-fashioned, comforting, spaghetti. It was delicious and Grammy and I devoured it that night when we returned to Falmouth.

The other day,  I made a visit to The Clam Man, our local fishmonger, and as luck would have it, they had a batch of big, black, shiny mussels. With an eye to preparing Louie’s mussels and spaghetti, I bought 2 dozen of the bivalves. Remembering what Louie had told me about his three special additives: brandy (I used Martell Cognac, which I use for my Steak au Poivre), jalapeño pepper and Knorr’s Caldo con Sabor de Camarón and guessed at the proportions. I don’t think it was exactly the same as Louie’s version, but it was delicious.

So here it is folks, the real deal, Mussels Marinara with Spaghetti alla Luigi.

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This Little Piggy Came from the Market

In General Articles on July 4, 2013 at 11:26 AM

Last month, while visiting my favorite butcher, Vincent’s Meat Market on Arthur Avenue, the “Little Italy” (a/k/a Belmont) of the Bronx, I spotted a prosciutto end, which is hard to come by in Falmouth. Thinking I would use it in a batch of Pasta e Fagioli, I added it to my meat order. But, last week with the sudden onslaught of summer heat and humidity, preparing a winter dish like that over a hot stove held little appeal and the thought of eating one held even less appeal.

Since the prosciutto was cured and vacuum packed, it probably would have lasted three or four more months in the refrigerator, at least until the onset of cold weather. However, each time I opened the refrigerator door it called out to me; after all that is its nature, to be eaten.

One of life’s greatest combinations is prosciutto, mozzarella, roasted red peppers and basil. Put those four ingredients on a chunk of crispy Italian bread, drizzle on some olive oil and you’ve got yourself perfection. But I don’t have a meat slicer, and for inclusion in a Hero (Grinder, Sub, Hoagie or whatever its called where you come from; I’m from New York so it’s always a Hero) prosciutto sliced in any way other than paper-thin would be a sin. Besides, crispy Italian bread is a rarity in Falmouth, where most bakeries are in giant supermarkets.

That tri-color combination, red, white and green, which happens to reflect the colors of the Italian flag, is perfection itself. So what else to do with the remains of this generous little pig? When all else fails, man’s thoughts turn to…PASTA!

Now for the alchemy. First, I thought I would lightly brown the prosciutto in its own rendered fat. Then, toss the mozzarella with the hot pasta letting it melt. Finally, add the prosciutto and other ingredients, and and serve it at room temperature. The execution worked well, but for two hitches, and the meal turned out to be appetizing, but perfection was not attained. I have added some footnotes to the recipe for Summer Penne, which I intend to incorporate next time. But that will have to wait until the next butcher run.

A few days later, using the remaining bit of prosciutto, I prepared a Frittata with Peas and Herbs, which served as the keystone for a delicious Sunday Brunch.

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Anndemma

In General Articles on March 20, 2012 at 1:15 PM

Anndemma, or as correctly pronounced, Aunt Emma, was a real character. Big Mike’s older sister, who in 1910 at the age of 4, crossed the Atlantic with her mother, sister and older brother, stood an inch or two under five feet. However, what she lacked in height she more than made up for in the size of her heart. Emma had a wonderful laugh and smile that filled her face. She and her husband, Uncle Eddie, were building superintendents in New York and supported my grandparents who lived with them. Most of my Sundays as a child were spent visiting them, surrounded by aunts, uncles and cousins, enjoying a three hour dinner accompanied by family stories and jokes.

There were a lot of dishes on that Sunday dinner table which most of the adults relished, but which were much too weird or exotic for me; things like snails, scungilli salad, baccalà, capozella and tripe were not for my childish palate. At that age, I was not too enthralled with anything that swam in the ocean, stared me in the eye, or came from the innards of some animal. I was very content with lasagna, spaghetti and meatballs, chicken and roasted potatoes.

Shortly after Betty and I were married, she took Emma on a food shopping trip to Arthur Avenue in the Bronx. Visiting her favorite butcher, Betty bought the usual cuts of beef, veal, chicken and pork that we liked to eat. Emma, however wasn’t interested in such ordinary fare and instead ordered calves brains, tripe and pig’s feet, much to Betty’s horror. In the fish market next door, it was flounder fillet for Betty and snails and eel for Emma.

When it came to vegetables, one of Aunt Emma’s mainstays was, as she pronounced it in a Sicilian dialect, ‘galdoons’, which she picked from the city parks, and on which I couldn’t help wonder how many dogs had made their mark. Of course she rinsed and dried them before cooking, but I still would have nothing to do with them until I was much older. Actually, by that time, I had discovered that their real name was cardoons, not ‘galdoons‘, and that breaded or floured and then fried, they were delicious. The problem is trying to find them! But one vegetable dish that she always made, and for which the main ingredient is readily available in any supermarket, is sautéed mushrooms.

Yesterday being a beautiful and sunny 68 degrees, I decided to fire up the gas grill and cook some shell steaks for dinner. To accompany them, I made a batch of Aunt Emma’s Sautéed Mushrooms and Betty prepared a delicious mixed green salad with spiced walnuts, dried cranberries and a bleu cheese/champagne vinegar dressing. With that meal we bid adieu to Winter on its last day, and today we welcome Spring!

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The Best Italian Restaurant

In General Articles on January 21, 2012 at 3:13 PM

Inspired by a dish that she had on our most recent visit to Roberto restaurant in the Belmont neighborhood of the Bronx, my wife suggested the ingredients for Chicken Campagna. That is not the name that Roberto applied to one of the ‘specials’ that he offered that evening. We thought of the name because the dish that we developed in a failed attempt to replicate Roberto’s reminded us of a rustic Italian chicken preparation, one that you would find in a country restaurant practically anywhere in Italy. Campagna translates to countryside. Despite the fact that it is not à la Roberto, Chicken Campagna is delicious in its own right.

Roberto Paciullo, who with his brother opened his original restaurant in this Little Italy of the Bronx more than 20 years ago, is an incredibly superb chef. The current restaurant located on Crescent Avenue, around the corner from the well-known Arthur Avenue, is one block west of where the original was situated at the intersection of E. 186th St., Crescent and Belmont Avenues. For those of you unfamiliar with New York and especially with the Bronx, that is the same Belmont Avenue that gave rise to Dion and The Belmonts.

While the printed menu at Roberto contains plenty of excellent and creative dishes, the ‘specials’ offered on the blackboard each evening are replete with imaginative surprises. For his legions of fans, they are the only way to order. From the very beginning, Roberto’s cooking has been an inspiration to me as well as to many others.

His dishes are filled with ingredients and that are common to la cucina italiana, but are combined in inventive ways that are vastly different than the standard Italian restaurant fare. In my opinion, there is no equal, and I agree with John Mariani, the writer and columnist for Esquire and Bloomberg News, Roberto is ‘The Best Italian Restaurant in America’.

Thanks Roberto, for many years of good eating and inspiration. I can’t wait to return to see what you have developed next.

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Where Have All the Butchers Gone?

In General Articles on January 4, 2012 at 4:25 PM

While attending high school, I held a number of after-school and summer jobs. It was easy to find work growing up in Inwood in the 1950’s, as there were many stores that needed delivery boys;  the drug stores, the florists, the dry cleaners, the fruit & vegetable stores, the deli’s, the fish markets and the butchers. There were not many cars in the neighborhood then, so we delivery boys either hoofed it, or made our runs on delivery bikes.

My delivery boy career included a cleaner, a fruit & vegetable store and a butcher; the latter was located on the corner of 207th Street and Sherman Avenue and was called Wal-Fred’s. I don’t recall either a Walter or a Fred, but think I remember a Tommy and a Patsy (Pasquale), both Italian-Americans, who were either brothers or cousins.  I’m lucky I can recall even that, but one thing I will never forget is the smell.

The delivery boy was also the one who cleaned the store after his delivery rounds were completed. There were chicken cases to be scrubbed and display trays to be washed; there were butcher blocks to be scraped with a steel brush; there were fat /offal cans to be washed out and deodorized and there was the floor to be swept and covered with fresh sawdust before the store was closed for the night at 6:00 pm. Aside from the tips, one of the best aspects of the job, was on a hot summer’s day being able to walk into the meat locker to cool down before heading home to my non air-conditioned apartment.

One by one, in most neighborhoods and towns, the little stores that provided these jobs disappeared as supermarkets and mega-markets made their appearance. And with the proliferation of cars and vans, deliveries are more often made by motor vehicle rather than on foot and bike. Of all of these businesses that have disappeared, the loss of butcher shops strikes me as the saddest.

Buying meat wrapped in plastic and placed on a Styrofoam tray is a far cry from asking the butcher to cut you a steak to a particular size, or to slice the veal cutlets and pound them into scaloppine or even to find certain specialty cuts like Osso Buco on the day you want to make it, rather than wait for the next warehouse delivery.

On a recent trip to New York, we visited our favorite butcher, Vincent’s Meat Market, on Arthur Avenue in The Bronx. At Vincent’s you are able to get the type of service that was standard back when there were butcher shops in every town and neighborhood. On this latest trip we brought back with us both 2 pounds of Veal Scaloppine and 4 lbs. of Osso Buco. The Osso Buco, which were two inches thick, were too large for one person, so at our request the butcher cut them in half horizontally with his electric band saw. Try getting that done in your local supermarket, even if you can find Osso Buco.

The veal cutlets, having been rolled and stuffed with Prosciutto and Fontina cheese, served six as Veal Rollatini for dinner last week. The Osso Buco was prepared Milanese style (without tomatoes, which in my opinion detract from the intense veal flavor) and served four for dinner on New Year’s Eve.

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