Abruzzi To The North End; Italian Comfort Food: Arancini

Introduction

In the 1960’s, my grandmother, Vincenza, had returned to Boston’s North End, the neighborhood where she had first arrived in America. She had come full circle, having arrived in the North End in 1914 to find a filthy, overcrowded slum, to achieving the American Dream and owning a home in the suburbs to finally coming back to the place that felt comfortable and safe and reminded her of Italy as much as any American neighborhood could.
By this time, the North End had progressed from the run down slum it once had been to a tourist attraction for visitors to Boston. People came in droves to visit the small specialty shops along Salem Street, eat in the many restaurants that served regional dishes from all over Italy and to experience the sense of community that had grown and developed over the decades since Vincenza first arrived in Boston.
Walking up the four flights of old wooden stairs to my grandmother’s apartment, I could smell the food cooking from the apartments that lined both sides of the long hallways. The air would be filled with the mouth watering aromas of garlic frying in olive oil, peppers roasting and fresh bread being baked. My grandmother’s kitchen was always rich with the aroma of tomato sauce simmering on the stove, anise cookies baking in the oven and the light, sweet scent of ricotta mixed with eggs and parsley.
I spent hours in my grandmother’s kitchen watching her prepare meals; recipes and techniques passed down from her mother, Lucia; meals that she learned to prepare in an old stone kitchen over an open fire back in “the old Country”, Abruzzi. It seems that there was a story or some type of folk lore to go with every meal she prepared. I loved listening to the stories as much as I loved helping to prepare and eat the food.
The recipes I learned from my grandmother are the recipes of the peasant farmers, sheep herders and laborers of Abbruzzi. They are recipes developed out of necessity; the need to use every bit of food available and waste nothing; the need to find a way to fill your family and keep them nourished even when food and money were scarce. These are not gourmet recipes that use expensive, trendy ingredients. I am not a professional chef. Hopefully, you will enjoy the idea of making comfort food, plain family friendly meals, some of which go back centuries and have their roots in ancient Roman times. I learned that food was something to be fully experienced with all the senses. A meal was meant to be made from scratch, using the freshest ingredients possible. It was meant to be made with love and it was to be shared with family and friends, relished and savored. A full day could go into the preparation of a meal that would be served with pride and love to the family and friends gathered at the table. A meal was a social event; a time to sit around the table, talk, laugh and unwind.
The preparation of food was an art in itself. Food incorporated all the senses. One not only paid attention to taste, but also to the aromas, textures, appearance and sometimes even the sound of food. My grandmother never wrote down or read a recipe. All the knowledge of cooking was stored in her head. She learned to cook from instinct, using all her sense to determine what flavors would work together. I learned to cook the same way my grandmother and great grandmother did. Measurements consisted of a pinch, a bit and a handful.
I cannot begin to explain how difficult it is for me to write the recipes for this blog and for the upcoming cookbook. I learned to measure with a pinch, a handful, a little of this and a generous amount of that. Taste, sight and common sense told me whether or not the amount was right. In writing a cookbook, I had to prepare my grandmother’s and great grandmother’s dishes, trying to measure ingredients to make it easy for others to follow. I learned that this is easier said than done. Half way through the preparation, I realized that I was reverting to instinct and forgetting to measure. That’s what Italian cooking is. You learn to use all your senses to create a meal and you eventually know what flavors will complement one another.
Therefore, in reading these recipes and trying them out, you cannot take the measurements as absolute, but rather as guidelines for amounts. In some cases I have state that you should use a pinch or a bit of an ingredient. This will no doubt cause panic for some people who tend to worry too much about whether or not they are doing it right. These people are missing out on the joy of cooking and the opportunity to develop an intimate relationship to the food. I hope that anyone reading this will eventually try to let loose and have some fun cooking. Learn to trust your instincts, learn to uses all your senses in cooking, and learn to cook like an Italian.

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

Arancini

Wednesday was hot dog and rice day in the cafeteria of Saint Anthony School.

The boiled hot dog on a stale roll wasn't so bad if you loaded lots of mustard on it, but the rice was another story. It was a more than adequate helping of boiled white rice that had butter mixed in to moisten it. It tasted terrible and nobody wanted to eat it.

My first Wednesday at Saint Anthony, I ate the shriveled, over boiled hotdog and strolled casually to the end of the cafeteria to scrape the white, tasteless mound of rice into the garbage can.

“What do you think you are doing, mister?”

It was Sister Mary Gemma, the meanest nun at Saint Anthony. Sister Mary Gemma was constantly armed with a five foot wooden rod that she handled the way a Samurai Warrior handles his sword.

“I don’t like rice,” I said. “So, I’m throwing it away.”

Sister Mary Gemma stuck the end of her wooden rod against my chest, barring me from getting any closer to the garbage can. “Are you aware that there are children in China who are starving and would love to have that rice,” she asked.

“I think they have lots of rice in China, Sister.”

A few minutes later, while the other kids were out in the school yard for recess, I sat in the empty cafeteria with the plat of rice in front of me, my hands still stinging after being hit with Sister Mary Gemma’s rod. Finally, Mrs. Manzione, one of the cafeteria workers, took pity on me. As she wiped down the tables, she stealthily grabbed my plate and emptied it in the trash can she dragged around with her.

Week two, I had come up with the plan of placing my napkin over the rice before taking my plate to the back of the cafeteria. I thought surely Sister Mary Gemma would be fooled by the ingenious deception. As I sat nursing my red, swollen hands, Mrs. Manzione, again, emptied my plate.

“You know,” she whispered to me, “you could just do like the other kids and force yourself to eat the rice.”

Being too stubborn to give in, I finally developed the perfect plan. The next Wednesday I was out in the schoolyard with the other children, leaving Sister Mary Gemma smiling smugly in the cafeteria, believing she broken yet another willful child.

When I got home that afternoon, my grandmother was perplexed as to why the pockets of my uniform jacket were filled with rice. I explained that rice was the most disgusting food ever invented and that if there really were starving children in China, as the nuns always reminded us, it’s because they would rather starve than eat that foul creation.

I swore I would never eat rice. My grandmother took this as a challenge and assured me that she could make a rice dish that I would love.

I realized she was right when I tasted my first arancini.

Arancini is a simple rice ball comprised of boiled rice, ham, peas and cheese, coated with breadcrumb and fried.

These can be made as an appetizer, a side dish or a snack. They can eaten as is or covered with tomato sauce. They do freeze well and can be reheated in an oven. Microwave reheating breaks down the texture, substance and flavor, leaving them bland and rubbery.

There are many variations on the recipe. This is how my grandmother made them.

Ingredients

1 tablespoon olive oil

1 onion, minced

1 clove minced garlic

1 cup rice

1/2 cup frozen peas

2 ounces of ham diced

1/2 cup finely grated Parmesan or Romano cheese

1 egg, beaten

1 egg

3 tablespoons of milk

4 ounces mozzarella cheese, cut into small cubes

1/2 cup flour

1 cup seasoned bread crumbs

1 cup vegetable or canola oil

Directions

Cook the rice according to directions. You can use chicken broth in place of water to cook the rice for some extra flavor. While the rice is cooking, you can start the onion and garlic.

Heat the olive oil over medium heat. Add onion and garlic, and cook, stirring frequently until onion is soft. You do not want to brown the onion and garlic.

Mix the cooked onion, garlic into the rice along with the peas and ham.

Allow the mixture to cool enough to add the egg without cooking it and to be able to handle the mixture. Do not let it sit long enough for the rice to dry.

Stir in the beaten egg

Form the rice mixture into balls. These can be small, appetizer size or larger, depending on how they will be served and how big you prefer your balls. Some people like large ones and some people like smaller ones that fit easily into the mouth.

As you form each one, press a chunk of the mozzarella into the center.

Put the milk and the bread crumbs into two separate shallow bowls.

Dip the rice ball into the bowl of milk, coat lightly with flour and then roll it in breadcrumbs and coat well.

Heat the frying oil in a deep saucepan or deep fryer and fry your balls a few at a time, turning frequently. When done, your balls should be a golden brown color.

Set them on a paper towel or dish cloth to drain. Eat as is or cover with tomato sauce.

1 comment:

GorioOctober 4, 2010 at 9:10 AM
I remember going to Galleria Umberto on Hanover street for Arancini. It was peasant food. Simple, honest and cheap.....
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