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.







































































































Friday, July 19, 2013

Italian Mac and Cheese with Panchetta or Bacon


1 cup bel paese cheese cubed
½ cup asiago, grated
¼ cup grated parmesan
1/2 cup shredded fontina cheese
1 cup shredded mozzarella
1 cup whole milk
½ teaspoon nutmeg
½ teaspoon of parsley
¼ pound pancetta or bacon1/2 pound of elbow pasta

Cook the pancetta or bacon until crisp and set aside on a paper towel to drain excess grease and to cool

Place the bel paese, asiago,  fontina ad parmesan and milk into a double boiler on low heat (In place of a double boiler you can place a metal mixing bowl into a pan of water or one smaller pan into a slightly larger one pan with water in it)

Slowly melt the cheese stirring constantly with a wire whisk. Do not whisk quickly, use slow rotating strokes
Once the cheese begins to melts and starts to become creamy, add in the nutmeg and parsley
Continue slowly heating. Cheese is ready when it is a creamy, even texture with no lumps.
When the pasta is cooked, drain well allowing al the water to run out through the colander then put the pasta into a large mixing bowl.

Add the crumbled pancetta/bacon

Pour in the cheeses sauced and mix until the cheese sauce has thoroughly mixed into the pasta

Add half the mozzarella and mix into the pasta

Pour the pasta into a small glass baking dish, sprinkle the remaining mozzarella on top and bake at 350 until the mozzarella has melted and begins to brown, about 20 minutes. Let sit outside the oven for 10 minutes before serving.
Garnish with a sprinkling of fresh, snipped basil leaves.
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