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.







































































































Tuesday, September 14, 2010

Veal Stew (Stufato del Vitello)

This was a favorite of mine as a child. My grandmother made this frequently and served it with large chunks of crusty, rustic bread for sopping up the soup at the end.

This is a light, savory stew that is perfect for a cold day. It can be made in a hour or can be left to simmer longer than that. Once this starts to simmer, your whole kitchen will fill with a rich aroma that will draw the family (and possibly some neighbors) to the kitchen.

My grandmother and great grandmother would buy fresh peas still in the pod and spend hours shucking them. In this version, frozen peas will suffice. If you plan to use canned peas, not only will you end up with that aluminum taste overpowering the stew and ruining it, you will also end up with peas that are pretty much pureed.

Sorry, I think canned vegetables are the work of the devil. Fresh is, of course, always the first preference. Frozen is second.

Ingredients:

1 pound of stewing veal
2 white potatoes cut into chunks
1 large onion sliced
2 cloves of garlic crushed
3 cups of water
1 cup of crushed canned tomatoes
1 teaspoon of parsley
1/2 cup of diced sun dried tomatoes
1 box of frozen peas
1/3 cup cooking oil

Heat the oil in a good sized skillet. Once the oil is hot (it will start to pop and sizzle) place the onion, garlic and veal into the skillet and cook until the meat has browned and the onion and garlic has become soft.

Do not over cook the garlic and onions. You are not browning them nor are you cooking the veal all the way through. You simply want to lock in the flavor and juices of the veal and release the flavor of the garlic and onion.

In a large soup pot, add water and tomatoes together, put in the parsley and sun dried tomato and stir to mix all ingredients.

Put the veal garlic and onion into the pot and add the potatoes. Set on the stove at a low to medium heat, cover and allow to simmer.


This should be left to simmer for an hour.

Do not put the peas into the pot until 5-8 minutes before cooking time ends. This allows them to maintain their color and texture without overcooking.

Serve this steaming hot with a big loaf of rustic bread.
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