Rigatoni with Meat Sauce

Posted on July 22, 2010 by Peter Bocchieri

 There was no one that made a better sauce than my mom. It’s what I grew up with. It’s what I ate at least twice a week. Mom’s sauce was always thick and rich. I remember she used Red Pack brand crushed tomatoes and tomato puree. She would combine both to make her sauce and it always came out thick and rich. Really stuck to the pasta.  If I ever ate someone else’s sauce I would always compare it to my mom’s. They never came close.

Over the years I’ve duplicated mom’s sauce, but over time, have developed my own. I use the same ingredients but I experiment with different brands of canned tomatoes. They really make a difference.  San Marzano tomatoes give you a sweeter sauce and less acidic. The most acidic canned tomatoes I’ve ever tasted is Tutto Rosso.  I stay away from them.  San Marzano tomatoes are a different variety from the usual Roma tomatoes. They are longer and thinner and have less seeds and thicker flesh. They do cost more than the regular canned tomatoes, but I think they are worth it. If you’re fortunate enough to can your own tomatoes, well, that in itself results into something different and delicious. 

I’ve been canning tomatoes for years and usually can a bushel that last me till the next year. I don’t use my own canned tomatoes for every sauce I make, other wise I would have to can at least two bushels. So I use them only for special occasions. For those of you who are interested in canning, I’ll post the process sometime in August, when the tomatoes are ripe.

This is a basic meat sauce my mom used to make. If you let it cook long enough it will get thick enough to eat in a sandwich. But for pasta, you want it a little thinner. For one can of tomatoes I find a 20 minute cook gives you the right thickness. Fresh basil makes a difference and using a good quality chopped chuck that is lean also tastes best. If you want to add a little more zing to the sauce, try adding a couple of Italian pork sausages without the casing to the ground beef. It adds another dimension to the flavor.

 

Rigatoni with Meat Sauce

  • 2 tablespoons of olive oil
  • 1 large onion, chopped
  • 3 cloves garlic, chopped
  • 1 pound ground beef, lean
  • 1/3 cup dry red wine
  • 1  28 ounce can San Marzano Italian peeled tomatoes, pureed
  • 5-6 fresh basil leaves, chopped
  • 1/4 teaspoon red pepper flakes
  • 1/2 teaspoon sugar
  • salt and pepper to taste
  • 1 pound rigatoni
  • grated Romano cheese

Heat a pan large enough to hold the sauce and cooked macaroni.

 Heat the olive oil and saute onions for 2 minutes. Add garlic and cook for 1 minute.

Add the chopped beef and brown, breaking up into little pieces with your spoon.

Once the beef in browned add the wine. Cook down for 1 minute.

Add the tomatoes, basil, sugar, salt and pepper.

Cook on medium heat for 20 minutes, stirring occasionally.

In the meantime cook the macaroni according to directions in salted water.

When the macaroni is cooked, drain and place in the simmering sauce. Toss well. Serve with plenty of grated Romano cheese. Want to try something special? Add a dollop of ricotta cheese to the top of this dish. Delicious!

Posted in Beef, Pasta | Tagged | 4 Comments

Scarola e Fasoli – Escarole and Beans

Posted on July 18, 2010 by Peter Bocchieri

As much as I love to cook, there are just some things I just don’t make as good as Grandma Isabella, as far as my sons are concerned.  My son Joseph even says that my chilled espresso does not taste the same as his grandmothers. That drives me crazy!  I use the same coffee, and make it with the drip method as she does, but Joseph insists, it’s just not the same. It’s not like I’m looking to compete, because Grandma Isabella is a great cook. but as far as my sons are concerned, whatever recipe I make of hers does not taste the same. They are my ultimate taste testers. And I can’t win.

Over the years I’ve watched her cook and she never measures a thing. My son Michael wrote down a bunch of her recipes and they all have a bit of this and a bit of that. She does it all by eye and experience, the way it should be done. But try and copy it and you just fall short of Grandma Isabella’s magic.

This recipe of escarole and beans are my son’s ultimate comfort food.  And when I made it for them they said, “it doesn’t exactly taste like grandmas”.  I guess there are some things you just can’t duplicate. Maybe it’s the oil she uses. Maybe it’s the type of bean. I think it’s the whole experience of being over grandma’s house and the way she dishes out her meals with love. You can’t duplicate that.

I know there are some things that I make that they tell me no one makes it the way I do. So I guess I’ll have to be happy with whatever  I have. I’m ok with that. But it still doesn’t stop me from trying.

Another one of her signature dishes that my son’s love, as I do, is her zucchini fritters. It’s a simple combination of shredded zucchini mixed in a batter of flour, water and eggs with a hint of garlic powder and plenty of fresh basil. I tried making it. Not the same.  I’ll have to tap my son for the recipes again and keep on trying, but something tells me it just will not be the same.

That is what true home cooking is really all about. You can follow recipes but in order to be  a great cook you just need to add your own touches to it. There are certain boundaries you need to follow, but for the most part, cooking is  creating something all your own. And great cooking only comes with time and experience.

 The secret of this dish is to saute the escarole long enough to break down the potatoes and beans so you have sort of a mash surrounding the vegetable. You should still have little chunks of potatoes but most of their mass should be broken down into the escarole. When it gets to this consistency it is ready. It also taste better when it is not too hot. And the next day, as with a lot of Italian food, it gets even better.

Scarola e Fasoli

  • 2 heads of escarole
  • 1 can red kidney beans, drained
  • 3 medium potatoes
  • 6 Italian canned peeled tomatoes, chopped
  • 4-5 fresh basil leaves, chopped
  • 2 cloves garlic, chopped
  • 1/3 cup olive oil
  • extra virgin olive oil to drizzle
  • salt & pepper

Cut the potatoes in half and with the peels on place them in a small pot and cover with water. Cook the potatoes till tender, about 25 minutes. Drain, peel, and cut each half into eights. Set aside.

Wash the escarole well. I soak them in the sink full of water and change the water at least 3 times to remove the dirt and grit.  Remove the bottom core and cut the head into thirds.

 Place escarole in a large pot with 4 cups of water and bring to a boil, add 1 teaspoon of salt. Cook till tender, about 12  minutes. Drain and set aside.

In a large saute pan heat the olive oil and cook the garlic for 1-2 minutes over low flame. Add the chopped tomatoes and basil and simmer on medium flame for about 5 minutes. Season with salt.

Add the potatoes, beans and cooked escarole. Sautee  on medium high heat, stirring occasionally, till most of the moisture evaporates and the potatoes break down, about 12 minutes. 

As your stirring the escarole break up some of the potatoes with your spoon. Season with salt and pepper.

Just before serving drizzle some extra virgin olive oil on top. This dish is best eaten slightly cooled.

Posted in vegetable | Tagged , , , | 3 Comments

Aunt Mary’s Cassata Catanese – Italian Cheese Cake

Posted on July 16, 2010 by Peter Bocchieri

Everyone in my family called Italian cheese cake casssata. Traditionally, Cassata Siciliana is made up of a round sponge cake flavored with liquor and layered with ricotta cheese, candied peel and a vanilla or chocolate cream similar to cannoli cream. It’s covered with a shell of marzipan and decorated with icing and candied fruits are placed on top for more decoration. This is nothing like the cassata my family made.

Other variations include the same ingredients except the ricotta filing is replaced with layers of gelato, making it similar to an ice cream cake. This isn’t what my family made either.

My family came from the province of Catania and what they make there is similar to a pie, containing a lattice top and bottom crust, filled with ricotta and baked in the oven…Cassata Catanese, Italian cheese cake.

I grew up all my life hearing my family call this cheese cake cassata. And when I researched the name it only came up with the other two versions. So when you go into an Italian restaurant and order Italian cheese cake what you’re really getting is cassata Catanese. To each region its own.

I never remember my grandmother baking anything. Her sister, my Aunt Mary was the baker in the family. And she would always make the cassata for the holidays. For Christmas she would make it plain. Around Easter she would add grain to the filling, calling it cassata au grana. We always looked forward to desert when Aunt Mary would cut a slice of her cassata and serve it to everyone with a cup of espresso and anisette. Everyone enjoyed it and the holidays would not be the same without it.

Once again, this is a recipe that got lost from my family tradition.  This is just too good a cassata to fade away and I hope you will find it as enjoyable as I have and keep it as your own. There are many variations of “Italian Cheese Cake” that you can find on the Internet and in Italian cook books. Everyone adds all sorts of things to this simple cassata….raisins, pine nuts, citrus peel, cream cheese, and on and on. They are all trying to reinvent the wheel. When I eat out in an Italian restaurant and order Italian cheese cake for desert, I always bite my tongue. Because nine out of ten times I get a cheese cake that is closer to New York cheese cake than Italian cheese cake. If I wanted New York cheese cake I would order it. I enjoy a slice of the rich and creamy cheese cake. But it is not Italian cheese cake, cassata.  Cassata is not a dense, heavy cheese cake like New York style cheese cake. It is much lighter and has more of a grain to it because of the ricotta.  This is a simple cheese cake and in its simplicity is perfection. Don’t try and out do it.

Cassata

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For the crust (Pasta Frolla)

  • 2 cups all-purpose flour
  • 2 large eggs
  • 1 tablespoon of baking powder
  • 1/2 cup sugar
  • 1/2 stick  butter
  • 3 tablespoons of whole milk
  • 1 tablespoon of vanilla

In a pastry blender or food processor, beat eggs and sugar together. Then, mix flour and baking powder and add to the egg mixture. Mix everything together. Then add the melted butter, milk and vanilla. Mix it well. Remove the mixture from the pastry blender or food processor and turn onto a lightly floured board or counter. Knead the dough until smooth. Form into a ball and set it aside for a short while. Cut the dough in half.  Then roll out the dough, approximately 1/4 of an inch and line the bottom of the pie tin, cutting the excess dough around the edge of the tin. With the remaining dough roll it out to about 1/4 of an inch, cut out long strips and set aside for decorating the top of the pie.

For the filling

  • 32 oz of whole milk ricotta cheese*
  • 5 large eggs
  • 1 cup sugar
  • pinch of salt
  • grated zest of 1 large lemon
  • grated zest of 1 large orange
  • 2 teaspoon vanilla extract
  • 1/2 cup of heavy cream (optional)

*Invert the open container of ricotta into a fine mesh strainer over a bowl. Place in the refrigerator overnight to allow the ricotta to drain off most of its moisture.

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In a large bowl, beat the eggs, sugar and salt till pale yellow. Add the  ricotta, lemon and orange zest and vanilla. Beat until blended well. Beat in the cream.

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Divide the chilled dough in half and roll out one of the balls to fit an 9-10 inch deep dish pie pan. Line the pan with the dough, trimming the dough at the edges of the pan.

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Pour the ricotta mixture into the prepared pan up to the top of the crust. Roll out the second piece of dough 10 inches round and with a sharp knife cut 1 inch strips out of the dough.  Form a lattice of the strips and place on top of the pie, pressing the edges down and trimming them.

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Bake in a preheated 375 degree oven for about 1 hour and 10 minutes or until the top of the cake is golden brown. Completely cool and refrigerate the cake before serving.

Posted in Dessert | Tagged , , , | 2 Comments

Pasta Fasoli

Posted on July 13, 2010 by Peter Bocchieri

In the Sicilian dialect that is what we call it, Pasta Fasoli. Macaroni and beans. A simple dish my grandmother made at a moments notice. At a high priced Italian restaurant they call it Pasta Fagioli, and charge you plenty. It’s amazing how a simple peasant food can be elevated into a high priced Italian speciality. But isn’t that the case for most ethnic dishes.  Pork rib meat was one the cheapest cuts of meat you can get. In the south they would smoke the meat and cook it slowly for hours to tenderize it and flavor it for consumption. Today, barbecue is all the rage and you can pay$20 and up for a rack of ribs. Baby Backs cost even more.

Pasta fasoli is real comfort food. It’s a hearty dish that can be eaten as a meal, and was, in a time when macaroni and beans was all a family could afford in order to put food on the table. Eat it with a loaf of bread and your meal is complete.

There are many variations of this dish. For the most part, you used what you had in the house at the time. All Italian pantries had macaroni and beans, garlic, tomatoes and whatever seasonal herb was available. You made the best with what you had. If you had meat, you put it in the dish. Usually, fat back or bacon (pancetta). Pieces of scrap beef or pork bones. Whatever you included in this dish would just add to the flavor. My grandmother just added water to the pot. Today I throw in a few bouillon cubes. There is no right way or wrong way to make this dish. But it is a simple dish, so don’t go crazy.

Pasta Fasoli

  • 1 sprig of fresh oregano, chopped
  • 1 sprig of fresh rosemary, chopped
  • 2 fresh basil leaves, chopped
  • 3 tablespoons of olive oil
  • 1 chopped onion
  • 2 cloves garlic, chopped
  • 1 cup of tomato sauce or peeled plumb tomatoes, chopped
  • 5 cups of water
  • 3 chicken bullion cubes
  • 2 ounces pancetta (optional)
  • 2 cans red kidney beans or cannelloni beans, drained and rinsed
  • 3/4 cup elbow macaroni or ditalini
  • black pepper and salt to taste
  • grated Parmesan cheese
  • 1/4 teaspoon red pepper flakes

 

In a heavy sauce pot heat the olive oil over medium flame and add the chopped onions and pancetta. Cook for 3 minutes. Add the garlic and cook 1 minute.

Add the tomatoes, oregano, and rosemary and bring to a simmer. Add the water and bullion cubes and bring to a simmer.

Add the beans, macaroni, and red pepper flakes.

Bring to a boil and stir.  Partially cover and let cook for 8-9 minutes on medium low heat or until pasta is tender, stirring occasionally.  Taste for salt and pepper.

Spoon into serving bowls and sprinkle with plenty of grated Parmesan cheese. This dish taste even better heated up the next day.

Posted in Pasta, soup | Tagged , , | 2 Comments

Linguine Puttanesca

Posted on July 10, 2010 by Peter Bocchieri
The hint of anchovy and flavor of the capers and olives makes this dish burst with flavor.

The first time I had this dish was over my Aunt Phyllis and Uncle Sal’s house in Paterson, New Jersey. My uncle was a wonderful cook and whenever we went to visit he would always prepare something new and delicious.

Pasta Puttanesca only became popular around 1960 so my Uncle Sal was always on the cutting edge of what was new and exciting in the world of food.  I remember going to my first “Beefsteak” with my aunt and uncle. They had a lot of friends and socialized quite a bit. I would call my Uncle Sal one of the original “foodies”.

They had a nice party room set up in the basement, complete with bar and kitchen. The moment I walked into their house I could smell the aromas of garlic and vinegar and immediately got hungry in anticipation of something good coming to the table.

We would usually start off the Sunday afternoon with a plate of antipasta. Dried sausage,  sharp provolone cheese, olives. Sometimes they would have stuffed breads, with broccoli rabe and Italian sausage,  and escarole. My Uncle Sal would be behind the bar preparing an extra dry martini for himself and my Aunt Phyllis. My parents didn’t drink so they were busy stuffing themselves with all the goodies on the table. Give my mother a slice of Italian bread and some provolone cheese and she’s good for the day.

Of course I was too young for a martini, so I would go into my uncle’s fridge and pull out a bottle of “Vim-up”, a locally made lemon-lime soda my uncle used to buy. In those days Paterson still had a large Italian population so all the cheeses and sopressata my uncle bought were the best.

After the first wave of food, before the main course, I would go outside with my cousins Patty and Johnny and play ball or just goof around. Before we knew it, dinner was ready and we were on our way back downstairs sitting at the table and ready to dig in to whatever my uncle prepared. We would usually start off with a pasta dish, on this day it was Linguine Puttanesca. And it was good! They usually made enough for a second serving and my mother would tell me not to fill up on the pasta because there was more food coming. Roast pork with onions and gravy, string beans with vinegar and garlic and oil, roasted potatoes, and to finish the meal, a large salad.

By the time we were  finished we couldn’t stand up from the table. My Aunt Phyllis would say “mangia, baby Peter”. I didn’t need encouragement!

For the trip home my mother would always fill a jar of water, in case anyone got thirsty for the hour trip back to Brooklyn. Those were the days before bottled water. We would head over the George Washington Bridge and take the West Side Highway home. That was when the West Side Highway was an elevated highway, complete with curves and cobblestones. We would pass above the meat market that was busy at that hour. I remember seeing a full sized truck that was a billboard on the side of the highway. Passing people’s apartments and all the old buildings that lined the West Side Highway. And then at the end my father would go through the streets of Manhattan, cutting across the city to get to the Brooklyn Bridge. I always enjoyed the trip home, enjoying the sights and smells of the Big City.

By he time my father pulled into the driveway at home I was fast asleep. I only awoke for a second to find myself over my father’s shoulder as he carried me into the house, already in my pajamas, and put me to bed.

 

Linguine Puttanesca

  • 4 cloves garlic, chopped
  • 1 small onion, chopped
  • 1/2 teaspoon of crushed red pepper
  • 1/3 cup olive oil
  • one 28-35 ounce can Italian peeled tomatoes, chopped
  • 1/2 teaspoon sugar (optional)
  • 1 teaspoon dried oregano or 3 sprigs of fresh oregano, chopped
  • 1/2 cup pitted and chopped oil cured or gaieta olives
  • 1/4 cup capers
  • 4-5 anchovy fillets, drained
  • 1/4 cup fresh flat leaf parsley
  • 1 pound linguine
  • salt to taste

In a large skillet, enough to hold the sauce and cooked pasta, cook onion,  garlic, hot pepper flakes and anchovy in the olive oil over low heat for 3 minutes. Break up the anchovy so they dissolve in the oil.

Raise the heat to medium and add tomatoes, oregano and sugar. Cook for 15 to 20 minutes or until thickened.

Stir in the olives, capers, and parsley and cook 2-3 minutes more. Taste for salt now.

 

Cook the pasta according to directions. Drain the pasta and add to the simmering sauce. Toss well and serve immediately. Garnish with more fresh parsley, and serve with plenty of grated Romano Cheese.

Posted in Pasta | Tagged , | 1 Comment

Pasticciotti

Posted on July 7, 2010 by Peter Bocchieri

Pasticciotti, one of my all time favorite Italian pastries. This is a very popular Italian Pastry in Sicily and in this country as well.  Goes great with an espresso or capuchino.  It has a tart like shell with a vanilla creme filling that has a hint of lemon.  

You can find this delicious Italian Pastry at any quality Italian bakery along side the cannoli and sfogliatelle. They are hard to come by outside of New York City. That is why I decided to make them myself.  

These delicate little pies are filled with Crema Pasticciera(pastry creme)  and I have had them in vanilla and chocolate creme.  Another popular filling is a sweetened ricotta filling like a cassata. They should be made in scalloped tart shells but can be made in muffin pans as well. They might not look like the classic pasticciotti, but if you are making them at home a muffin pan works good.  

Don’t be intimidated by this recipe.  You make it in two steps, the pastry and then the creme. With these ingredients you can also make a creme filled fruit tart. Just roll out the pastry to fit your tart pan. Bake the pastry with some dried beans on the bottom to keep the dough from rising and allow to cool.  Fill the  baked pastry with the creme and then slice some seasonal fruits on top of the creme, overlapping the fruit to make a nice design.  Take 1/4 cup apricot preserves and 1 tablespoon of water and bring to a boil. Strain and brush the glaze over the fruit and chill.  

Pasticciotti  

Pasticciotti

 

  • 500 grams of flour
  • 250 grams of sugar
  • 150 grams of shortening
  • 3 eggs
  • 2 teaspoons baking powder
  • 1/4 teaspoon vanilla

   

In a large mixing bowl add the flour and baking powder and mix well. Add the shortening and cut the shortening into the flour until well incorporated. In another bowl beat together the eggs, vanilla and sugar. Add to the flour mixture and mix till you have a fine dough. Place dough on a floured surface and if dough is too loose add a little flour to work it into a smooth ball.  

  

Form the dough into a ball and wrap in plastic wrap and keep in the refrigerator while you make your pastry creme.  

For the pastry creme:  

  • 6 cups whole milk
  • 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
  • the peel of one lemon in one long strip
  • 8 egg yolks at room temperature
  • 2  1/4 cups of sugar
  • 2/3 cups corn starch

   

  

Over low heat, slowly bring milk, vanilla and lemon peel to a boil in a heavy bottom sauce pan.  

  

In a medium bowl, beat the egg yolks and sugar till they are light and fluffy. Add the cornstarch to the egg yolk mixture and mix well.  

Remove the milk from the heat and discard the lemon peel. Beat 3/4 cups of the hot milk into the egg yolk mixture to temper the egg yolks. Slowly pour  the hot milk as you stir quickly.  

Now slowly stir in the tempered egg yolk mixture into the saucepan of hot milk as you stir constantly.  

  

Return this mixture to high heat, stirring constantly and boil for 2 minutes or until creme thickens.  

Roll out half the pastry dough on a lightly floured surface to 1/8 of an inch thick. Cut out circles large enough to fill the tart shell or muffin pan you are using.  

  

Place the pastry dough into the pans to fit the forms you are using.  

  

Fill each shell with the pastry creme almost to the top. Don’t fill to the very top.  

  

Roll out the remainder of the pastry dough to 1/8 inch thick, large enough to cover the shells in the pan. Seal shut by pressing on the edges, bringing the bottom pastry dough together with the top.  

Brush with some egg white and bake at 350 degrees for 20-22 minutes or until golden. Allow to cool before removing from the pans. Carefully turn the pan over and gently shake the little cakes out.  If you need to, pass a sharp knife around the edges to loosen, they should pull out easily.   

Pasticciotti

 

 Cool completely before you sprinkle with confectioners sugar.

Posted in Dessert | Tagged , , | 6 Comments

Gnocchi Di Patate – Potato Gnocchi

Posted on July 6, 2010 by Peter Bocchieri

HELLO MUDDA, HELLO FADDA!

My brother and sister used to go to camp when they were young. My grandfather had a niece who was a nun, Sister Lucille, who was in charge of Camp Saint John in Peapack-Gladstone New Jersey. My brother and sister were away at camp every summer and as my sister got older she even became a counselor at Camp Saint John. I was too young to go to camp so I missed out. But that didn’t last long.

My parents saw how much fun my sister and brother would have at summer camp so when I was old enough they made plans to ship me off to camp. I’m not sure why I didn’t go to Camp Saint John, maybe by the time I was old enough the camp didn’t exist any longer. I went to a camp called Dominican Camp in Sag Harbor Long Island.

It sounded like a good idea. At 8 or 9 years old the thought of swimming, playing and country fun seemed larger than life. What did I know. My parents said I would have a great time. My brother and sister always had. But I wasn’t my brother or sister.

The reality of being left in a strange place with strange people didn’t start to sink in until my parents started saying their goodbyes. It took over me like a dark blanket. They were going to leave! Without me! I had never been away from my parents before, ever. Even when I was sick in the hospital, my mother found a way to bribe the nurses to have her spend the night there with me. I think she cooked them meals or offered to clean bed pans or something. Back then no one was allowed to stay overnight in the hospitals. But my mother managed it.

A pit in my stomach started forming and as  I saw my parents pull away in their car… I thought I was going to die. This is not having a good time! Swimming, baseball, arts and crafts, archery…they never crossed my mind. I wanted to go home.

An 8 year old has a different sense of realty than an adult. In my mind I could only think that if anything happened to my parents while I was at camp I would be stuck here forever. I believed that. This was a catholic camp and every morning we went to church. And the thing I prayed for the most was that nothing would happened to my parents so they can come back and get me the heck out of here.

When I wasn’t worrying about my parents meeting the grim reaper I managed to have some fun, swimming, playing baseball and making box stitch bracelets with plastic string.

Camp was my first introduction to “bug juice”. Bug juice was what we called the red “kool aid” they would serve us at meal time.  When the counselors opened the Canteen it was a treat. With the little money our parents left us we were able to buy soda, and candy, Finally some familiar food! But we were only allowed to pick one thing.

The meals were terrible. We would go up by tables and get our food on trays as the attendants slopped whatever it was they were serving for the day. Every meal looked the same. Some unrecognizable meat covered in some brown sauce. And boiled vegetables. It was so bad that most of us used to take slices of white bread they had on all the tables and sprinkle salt on them and eat it for a meal. A few made ketchup sandwiches.  When were my parents coming back??

By the second or third day many of the boys started dropping like flys from vomiting and diarrhea. Something was going around the camp and it was only a matter of time until it hit me. And then I thought, “this could be my ticket out of here”!!! I waited to get sick, eating everything on my plate, hoping whatever it was had to come from the food. But I was fine. I couldn’t even spend the day at the infirmary. Maybe if I faked it they would call my parents to come up and get me out of here. Nothing worked. I continued to make box stitch key chains out of plastic string.

The boys in my cabin were all fine. We didn’t have any wise guys or bullies. And the counselors from what I remember were also a good group. It took me a few days, but I realized that I was up here for the duration and I might as well just have a good time. I always loved the water, so swimming was the highlight of the day, except for the hundreds of horse shoe crabs that were littering the sandy beach. I never saw one before and it was always the subject of freaking someone out yelling “horse shoe crab!!!”, while in the water.

The cook outs were a fun time and we weren’t being fed the slop from the kitchen. The counselors would BBQ hot dogs and we would have a great time sitting around the camp fire eating hot dogs and drinking “bug juice”. We listened to stories about unwary teenagers parked in cars being attacked by escaped lunatics. A nice thing to hear just before bed time. I was going to be up here for two weeks???? What were my parents thinking???

By Friday I was really looking forward to parents weekend. That is when all the parents came up for the day. As I waited on the steps of my cabin I looked for any movement that came from the long road that led to the camp. “Please let nothing happen to them, please let nothing happen to them”,  I prayed as I sat there waiting.  And then I recognized my father’s 54 Mercury pulling into the parking lot. I thought this day would never come.

My mother pulled out bags and trays  of food she prepared and we set them up on the near by picnic tables. Finally, mom’s cooking!  Fried chicken, baked ziti,  eggplant Parmigiana. Oh it was good to taste her cooking again!When my mother asked me if I was having a good time I didn’t know where to begin. I only knew she wasn’t going home without me. I was not going to spend a second week here.

I told her that everyone was getting sick and the food was terrible. Kids were throwing up all over the place and we were eating sliced white bread for lunch and dinner.  That is all she had to hear.  As I sat enjoying my mother’s fried chicken with my father, my mother took a walk to the administrative office. All my father was worried about was loosing a weeks fee for leaving early. He began telling me stories about  how bad army food was and I should just suck it up. I ignored him, I knew my mother was in charge at this point. My father went on to say what are all the other kids going to think that your leaving. What other kids? Are you kidding? I’ll never see these  boys again. I didn’t care.

When my mother came back she asked me why I didn’t tell them sooner. She would have never let me stay up here under these conditions. “We’re taking him home”, my mother commanded. I never heard more sweet words in my life.

The following summer my parents sent me to Camp Saint Vincent, somewhere in Jersey. In their mind, Dominican Camp was just a bad choice. In my mind, I couldn’t believe they were doing this to me again. That was the last year I went to camp. The following summers I would spend with my Aunt Phyllis and Uncle Sal at their summer house down the Jersey Shore. At least the food was better!

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Gnocchi Di Patate

  • 2 pounds baking potatoes
  • 1  3/4 cups all purpose flour
  • 1 egg
  • salt

Boil the potatoes in their skins until tender, about 30 minutes. Test with a fork if tender.  Drain and allow to cool slightly, then peel them.

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Put potatoes through a food mill or potato ricer . Place on a large board or other work surface.

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Add the flour, gather the mixture into a mound and make a well in the center.

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Break the egg into the well, add salt and knead until the mixture forms a smooth, firm dough. Add more flour if too sticky. Do not over knead.

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Working on a floured surface, cut the dough into pieces and with the palm of your hand roll each piece into a long sausage shape about the thickness of your index finger. Cut these into 1  inch pieces.

Roll each of the gnocchi over the prongs of a fork, pressing down lightly with your thumb forming ridges on the outside and a small concave dent on the other.  It might take a little practice but you will get the idea.

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Drop them onto a floured board.

Cook the gnocchi in boiling salted water, lifting them out as soon as they rise to the surface, about 2 minutes.  Spoon your favorite sauce over them. Gnocchi goes well with everything from Sunday Gravy to a fresh marinara sauce.  You can even have gnocchi with pesto. Depends on your mood.

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Gnocchi taste great with a Gorgonzola sauce. Place 1 cup of heavy cream in a sauce pan over medium heat. Bring to a simmer and add 1 pound of Gorgonzola cheese, and pepper. Whisk till smooth and the cheese is melted and pour over the cooked gnocchi. Garnish with extra black pepper.

I love gnocchi with a fresh sage and butter sauce. Melt a stick of butter in a  frying pan until the foam subsides. Add about 3-4 tablespoons of your pasta water and whisk to emulsify the sauce. Add 8-9 fresh sage leaves to the melted butter and toss for a minute.. Add the gnocchi to the sauce and toss to cover and serve with plenty of grated parmigiano cheese.

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Pasta con Zucchini

Posted on July 4, 2010 by Peter Bocchieri

This is a really great tasting pasta dish my mom used to make in the summer when the zucchini was growing in the garden and we had an abundance of fresh basil and oregano.

The great thing about growing your own zucchini was you got to pick zucchini flowers. We used to make a delicious fritter with the zucchini flowers. Unfortunately, zucchini flowers are very hard to find in the supermarket. If you have a farm nearby you can always ask them to pick the flowers for you. Or you just had to grow them yourself.

The fried zucchini flowers were made with 2 large eggs, 1 cup of flour, 1 cup of water, salt and pepper for the batter. Beat the batter till smooth and dip each whole zucchini flower, with the stamen removed and stem cut off,  into the batter and fry in  about 2 inches of  oil. Delicious!

We used to grow a variety of zucchini we called gugutza. They were a light green, smooth skin vegetable that grew very long and sometimes curled. You can’t find it in any supermarket. I believe the neighbors on the block used to share the seeds they got from other gugutza plants that some brought back from Italy. 

My Uncle Sal Arestia, my Aunt Mary’s husband, used to bring us gugutza from his Long Island farm all the time. Uncle Sal was a really good farmer. He used to grow all sorts of things on his property. But the one thing I remember the most was when he walked in with a brown paper bag filled with gugutza. And when we went to visit him we would leave with bushels full of fresh produce. Before Uncle Sal and Aunt Mary  moved to their farm in Long Island they lived a block away from us in Brooklyn. Uncle Sal was a buttonholer,  I guess that’s what they called them. He worked in a factory and his job was to put button holes on whatever they gave me.  He did that for 30 or so years and when he retired he saved enough money to buy his farm in Long Island. That was his dream. 

From a trip to Italy that my son’s made, Michael took some pictures of gugutza being sold at a market there.  The gugutza was sold along side “Viagra naturale”, hot peppers.  Those Italians do have a sense of humor!

Photo by Michael Bocchieri.

 

Pasta con Zucchini

  • 4 small zucchini, cut into 1/2 inch quarters
  • 1 medium onion, thinly slices
  • 3 cloves garlic, minced
  • 1  28 oz can of San Marzano peeled tomatoes, crushed
  • 7-8 fresh basil leaves, torn
  • 1 sprig of fresh oregano leaves
  • 1 teaspoon sugar
  • 3 tablespoons olive oil
  • salt and pepper to taste
  • 1 pound gemelli or bow tie pasta

 

Heat olive oil in a sauce  pot. Cook onions over medium heat until soft, about 3 minutes. Add garlic and cook 1 minute. Add can of  crushed plum tomatoes. Rinse the can with 1/4 cup water and put into the sauce.

 

Roughly tear the basil into pieces and add to the sauce along with the whole oregano leaves striped from the stem.

 

Add the zucchini and stir well.

 

Cook on medium low heat for at least 45 minutes or until the zucchini is tender.  Taste for salt and pepper.

 

Cook the pasta as directed and drain. Top the pasta with the zucchini sauce and serve with grated Romano cheese.

Posted in Pasta, vegetable | Tagged , | 3 Comments

Spaghetti Frittata

Posted on July 2, 2010 by Peter Bocchieri

My grandmother had two sisters, Angie and Mary, and a brother, Joe. My Aunt Mary had a daughter, Georgina, who was about my sister’s age. My Uncle Joe had a son, Bobby, who was also around my sister’s age. But my Aunt Angie had two sons, Johnny and Ralphie, who were closer to my brother Richard’s  age. And here is where all the trouble began.

By today’s standards, Johnny, Ralph and Richard would have been on heavy medication, like Ritalin, to keep them focused and behaved. But back then, the boys were just being boys. And no one would even have dared  tell my Aunt Angie that Johnny and Ralphie were trouble makers. No! Not her boys! But Ralphie and my brother Richard were younger than Johnny, so any trouble they got into was usually headed by Johnny, the ring leader. So Ralphie and Richard were always guilty by association….with Johnny.

What kind of trouble did the boys get into? This is a blog, not a book, so I will give you just a few of the stories that have remained a constant series of discussions in my family till this day, some 60 years later.

For some reason, by grandfather was always the focus of Johnny’s practical jokes. Maybe because my grandfather did not have a sense of humor when it came to the execution of these pranks. No, he never saw the lighter side of Johnny’s childish games. The harmless fun that excited the boys. The mature understanding that boys will be boys. Nope. My grandfather was a serious guy. And that egged Johnny on even more.

It was Christmas Eve around the year 1955 or 56. The entire family celebrated the holiday together. My Aunt Mary and Uncle Joe lived in Brooklyn, but my Aunt Angie and Uncle Benny traveled in from Queens for the holiday, so they would always spend the night. Sleeping arraignments were taken care of for everyone and Johnny, Ralphie and Richard had the added bonus of spending the night together. I was too young to hang with that crew.  Let the games begin.

When my grandfather went to bed he always wore a night cap. A little wool hat he would put on to keep the chill off his head during the winter evenings. On this particual night, Johnny and the boys snuck into my grandfather’s room, just before everyone turned in for the evening and stole my grandfathers night cap.

Now one would think that on Christmas Eve children would be anticipating the arrival of Santa Claus and eagerly dress for bed and try and get to sleep as quickly as they can and dream of sugar plums dancing in their head. Not Johnny. He saw an opportunity here.

The boys were in their bed and waited for my grandfather to go to bed. He lumbered up the stairs and took care of the evening things he would do before turning in. All was quiet and you could hear everyone saying good night to each other. But on this evening, my grandfather’s routine screeched to a halt. His night cap was missing.

At first, I’m sure he thought he misplaced it, and asked my grandmother if she moved it. And when she revealed she never touched it my grandfather immediatly turned his attention to the boys. But the boys denied that they had ever been near my grandfather’s night cap. And my Aunt Angie believed them. But not my grandfather.

My grandfather went to bed that evening without his night cap. But in the morning made a decree that Johnny and Ralph were never to set foot in his house again. They were banished. My brother Richard was devastated.Will he never see Johnny and Ralphie again?

About 6 months later my grandmother was dusting the lamp shades in the living room, when something fell out from the inside of the shade. It was my grandfather’s night cap. Now how did this get here? If you are going to lie, you have to live the lie. And never admit to your crime, as long as the evidence is missing. But this was totally incriminating for Johnny. As if my grandfather didn’t already  know.

But the boys’s pranks did not end with my grandfather. Everyone was fair game. My Uncle Benny’s brother-in-law, Sebastiano, was spending the night at their house one evening. Sebastiano was a burly man, if I had to describe him I would have to say he looked like the character in the Godfather Luca Brasi. You know, the one that slept with the fishes. Just before Sebastiano turned in for the evening, Johnny took an alarm clock and set it for 3am and placed it under Sebastiano’s bed. Can you think of a worse thing to happen to you at 3am?

Needles to say, the alarm going off at 3 am not only woke Sebastiano but everyone in the entire house was rousted at that ungodly hour. Poor Sebastiano had no idea what was happening. He jumped out of bed and had no idea where that alarm was going off. And even when he did pin point the source there was no way this man was going to fit under the bed in order to turn it off.

I’m sure Johnny denied any knowledge of what just happened. Like the time they denied throwing bags of water out of their hotel window at the guests below. On a trip to Italy Johnny and Ralphie were passing the time and having some fun as they dropped bags of water out of their hotel window. The hotel manager knocked on their door and my Aunt Angie answered it greeting the hotel manager. “Signora, your children are throwing water bombs out of their window and hitting our guests below”!  “NOT MY BOYS!” insisted my Aunt Angie, “you must be mistaken. It must be coming from somewhere else!” How can you argue with a sincere, loving mother? The hotel manager apologised for making the mistake and left, allowing Johnny and Ralphie another opportunity to chuck some more water bombs at the unsuspecting guests below.

This time the hotel manager came back and was more adament that the water was coming from their window. And my Aunt Angie was even more adament that it was impossible that her children would ever do a thing like that. The funny thing is, she really believed it.

But these were childhood pranks. Harmless pranks and games that children do without giving any thought to whether it is right or wrong. So as Johnny and Ralphie grew older, their pranks matured along with them. Like the time they were teenagers and my brother was spending the night at their house. My mother was still over having coffee with my Aunt Angie.  Outside, the boys were planning a staged “gang fight” among themselves and a few of their friends to impress some girls that they knew would be passing by. What could be more macho than men fighting? This was a great plan. As the girls approached the macho men started fighting with each other, creating the attention they so much wanted from this group of girls. Only problem was, the “gang fight” was happening right in front of my Aunt’s house. And with all the noise and screaming going on just outside, my aunt and my mother came running out of the house, thinking that their boys were in trouble and tried to break up the fight. Not exactly a macho moment when your mother throws the other boys to the ground and grabs you by the hair and slaps you on your end as she drags you into the house. I’m sure those girls were VERY impressed. Not all of Johnny’s pranks worked out.

But as the years passed on, Johnny and Ralphie and my brother Richard matured into fine adults. Oh, Johnny still appreciates a good joke now and then and on occasion can hardly resist bringing a water pistol to a family cook out or gathering. But for the most part, all three guys grew to maturity and did very well with their lives. My brother Richard became a teacher and worked his way up to Guidance Counselor and is now retired and enjoying a very successful career in Long Island Real Estate. Ralph worked his way up from a butcher to a Union leader and is now a Commissioner. And John? Well, let’s just say that after a tour in Korea, Johnny got himself an entry level job with a little start up company that insured nuclear power plants and over the years became Vice President of that multi-million dollar company, and is now retired.

I think Ritalin might have prevented the boys from the life experience process that was so important in the foundation of growing up. Because after all, boys will be boys.

 My friend Bobby Goff from Brooklyn mentioned the other day a “fried spaghetti” dish his mother used to make for him. Real comfort food. I didn’t get the exact recipe but this is a dish my family made that used spaghetti as the main ingredient. You can use fresh made spaghetti or this is a good dish made with left over spaghetti. Ever wonder what to do with left over pasta? Well, here is an option. Unless my son eats it right out of the refrigerator before I get the chance!

 

Spaghetti Frittata

  • 3/4 pound cooked spaghetti
  • 4 large eggs
  • 1/4 cup pitted black oil cured or kalamata olives, chopped
  • 1 small onion, chopped
  • 1 tablespoon capers, rinsed
  • 1 tablespoon fresh flat leaf parsley, chopped
  • 1/4 cup grated Parmesan cheese
  • olive oil

 

In a medium size bowl beat the eggs.

Add  black olives,onion, capers, parsley, and cheese. Mix well.

Add the spaghetti and combine well.

Heat 3 tablespoons of olive oil in a 12 inch nonstick frying pan. Pour the spaghetti mixture into the pan and flatten the top evenly. Cook over medium heat until the bottom is golden brown, about 5 or 6 minutes.

Carefully invert the frittata onto a flat plate, loosening the edges with a spatula first. Slide back into the pan, browned side up. Add a little more oil to the side of the pan. Cook until golden brown.

Cut into wedges and serve. This dish is good served warm or slightly cooled.

Posted in Antipasto, eggs, Pasta | Tagged | Leave a comment

Zeppole

Posted on June 29, 2010 by Peter Bocchieri

I have to credit my friend Johnny Boy, A.K.A. John Racioppo for reminding me of our July 4th adventures on 77 Street. The memories are there once they are jogged from my head. Thanks John!

We would prepare for the Fourth of July months before that day came. As far back as April and May we would be seeking our sources for the fireworks we needed to celebrate the 4th. Someone always knew someone who was selling a stash of cherry bombs and ash cans, M-80’s, Roman candles and whistlers. Fire crackers, bottle rockets, silver jets, all part of the arsenal we needed to make some noise on Independence day.

I could remember going to a friend of a friends house and walking into his bedroom as he pulled the covers off his bed, displaying a huge array of fireworks covering his bed. Where the heck did he sleep?? We had cash, money we saved for months, and as we picked among the colorful array of pyrotechnics our vendor would place them in a brown paper shopping bag.

The walk home was always unnerving, two kids walking home with unmentionables. But we had a story prepared in case the G-Men staked us out and stopped us. Some kid from another neighborhood on a red bicycle sold us these fireworks. Honestly.

Hiding them from my mother was the biggest challenge. My mother knew about everything. And if I brought these fireworks in the house, for sure, she would find them. Don’t ask me how, she just had that 6th sense about things and eventually things I shouldn’t have would just disappear. So I let my friend Mike stash them until July 4th. My mother lost her calling and should have been a member of the FBI. I could never get anything past her. She just always knew.

When we got to Mike’s house we slipped into his bedroom and took out our treasures and set them out on the floor to admire what we had. Oh man, can’t wait for the 4th. But who could wait? We always took a few packs of fire crackers and went out to give them a try. A sound you heard around the neighborhood, letting everyone know that the day was coming.

A piece of rope, that would stay lit if you kept blowing on it,  or a “punk”, it looked like a stick of insencethat would have a glowing spark at the end to light the fireworks with, would be our ignitors of choice. Matches were just too cumbersome. Now we had everything.

On the Fourth of July our block was like a war zone. The elderly would prepare for the day by closing themselves into the back rooms of their houses to avoid the bombardment. Neighbors who enjoyed quite evenings would pack up and leave for the day, visiting relatives in Long Island or Jersey to get away from the “shock and awe”.  If you drove anywhere in our neighborhood you had to keep your windows closed. You never knew what might come flying through. And as bad as our block was with 20 or more kids all exploding their fireworks, up the street about two blocks away on 17th avenue the real heavy stuff would go off. Those revelers, mostly “wise guys”,  would close off the avenue with piles of fireworks going off in the middle of the street. I swear they would just dump tons of everything they had in the Avenue intersection and pour on the gasoline and light it. We would see flashes of light and continuous explosions and sparks flying everywhere. It was awesome! For some reason, the cops stayed away from 77 street and 17th Avenue.

We had creative ways of exploding our cherry bombs, ash cans and M-80’s.  The corner sewer was a favorite spot to light one and throw it down there.  The echo of the explosion could be heard for blocks. A metal garbage can was also a container of choice. They would sound just that much louder. My parents had a metal milk box by our side steps. We blew that up. It was like each kid had to out do the other by finding more creative ways to blow up their fireworks. Sticking a firecracker down an ant hole was also a favorite. Exploding  a cherry bomb inside a turned over coffee can made it fly up in the air. If one cherry bomb lifted the can, what would two or three do to it. We had to get a new coffee can. We used to make something called “a genii”. That was when we opened up and unrolled the paper from a single firecracker and empty out the gun powder onto the side walk. We would do that to a dozen or so firecrackers and then take a fuse and put it on the pile of gun powder and light it. It would go up in a puff of smoke, like a genii!

And then, one of the older kids had enough money to actually buy a “brick” or a “mat” as we used to call then. Mats had about 80 packs of firecrackers in them, they were sold that way as a wholesale lot. And  we were going to light the whole thing up at one time. We waited all day for this! It was to be the highlight of the evening. We waited for it to get dark for better effect. We then took an empty metal garbage can and placed it in the middle of the street. We roughly broke up the mat and placed it in the garbage can, poured a can of lighter fluid on it and threw in a match and RAN! The explosions lasted for about 3 minutes, a constant barrage of firecrackers going off. You could see the mushroom of smoke rising from the garbage can. It was the most awesome sight of the evening.

Some neighbors actually stayed out on their second floor porch to watch the activities from afar. Every now and then a silver jet rocket would go astray and you would see them scramble for cover. We loved it! Some adults would come out to set off the larger rockets. The night sky lit up with the colorful sparks.

By the end of the evening our street looked like a ticker tape parade just went through there. Pieces of paper from exploded fireworks just covered the streets and sidewalks. If it were a still evening you could see a haze of smoke hovering around the street lights and the smell of sulfur filled the air. We were spent. We blew up everything we had. And no one, this year, got hurt. At least on our block.

Families returned from their day trips. The neighbors opened their windows to cool their houses once again.  Cats were let out and the neighborhood dogs came out from under the beds. It was an exciting 4th of July.

The next day was a good excuse to open the hydrants to wash away the papers and debris from the night before. And that meant another day of fun and games on 77 Street, Brooklyn.

Zeppole was as much summer food as was ice cream, snow cones and Italian ices. Every street fair you went to had a stand that sold fresh made zeppoles. Most of the pizzerias in the neighborhood sold zeppoles but they never tasted as good as the ones you got from the street festivals. All warm and crispy and covered in powdered sugar. We would buy a bag full and share them with each other. Back then, white powder on your lips and nose meant you were eating zeppoles.

Zeppoles are really easy to make and can be enjoyed anytime. Occasionally when we made them at home we made the batter a little thicker and would place an anchovy in the middle before frying them. These were the savory zeppoles and did not take powdered sugar. Either savory or sweet, zeppole were always a treat. Putting the cooked zeppoles in brown paper lunch bags and shaking them with powdered sugar will remind you of being back at the street fair.

Zeppole

  • 1 cup warm water
  • 1 teaspoon active dry yeast
  • 1 tablespoon sugar
  • 2 cups all purpose flour
  • 1 teaspoon salt
  • Vegetable oil for deep frying
  • Confectioners’ sugar

Sprinkle the yeast and sugar over the water in a small bowl. Stir until the yeast dissolves.

 

In a large mixing bowl, combine flour and salt. Add the yeast mixture and stir until well blended. Cover with plastic wrap. Let rise in a warm place for 1 1/2 hours.

Pour about 2 inches of oil into a deep heavy saucepan or deep fryer. Heat oil until the temperature reaches 375 degrees, or a drop of the dough sizzles and turns brown in 1 minute.

Drop the dough by tablespoons into the hot oil. Do not crowd. Cook the zeppole until golden brown and puffed, about 2 minutes, turning once during the cooking time.

Remove the zeppole with a slotted spoon and drain on paper towels. Repeat with the remaining dough.

Put the zeppole in a paper bag, add the confectioners’ sugar, and shake them until well coated. Serve immediately. Don’t forget to share!

Posted in Dessert | Tagged , , , | 10 Comments