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!

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Grilled Pressed Chicken With Fresh Herb Marinade

Posted on June 27, 2010 by Peter Bocchieri

We rarely would watch TV during summer vacation. There were way too many kids playing outside to be cooped up in the house in front of the TV. Summer time was outdoor time, and we took advantage of every minute of it.

All my friends on the block used to collect baseball cards. Not the way a collector might do today. I remember my mother giving me a quarter and me and Junior would take a walk to the candy store and see the fresh box of Topps baseball cards on the counter. I would pick up two packs of the cards and immediately smell them. I loved the smell of baseball cards. Each pack cost a dime so that left me five cents to buy a candy bar or some pretzel rods or 5 pieces of Bazooka bubble gum. The gum that came with the cards was fine, but never lasted as long as Bazooka. Besides, I had to see what Bazooka Joe was up to in his little comic strip that used to wrap the gum.

“Got it, got it, got it…..NEED IT, got it, got it”.  That was the ritual each time we opened up a pack of baseball cards. I’ll never forget the day I got Mickey Mantle. I immediatly put him in the back of my collection with Roger Maris and Bobby Richardson. There was no way I was going to loose him. Once all the new cards were sorted out with my collection, I’d place them in my pocket and walk home.

Now it was time for some serious business. We would “flip” each other for baseball cards. The art of “flipping” baseball cards came with time and practice. The idea was to flip a card onto the ground and your friend would flip his card right next to yours. If your card was face up and he flipped his face up, he would take your card. If your card was face up and he flipped his and it landed face down, you would win the flip and take his card. The person who won had the choice of going first or second.

You would stand with both your feet together, head down, and take a card in your hand, holding it with the tips of your four fingers in front and your thumb at the edge of the card in the middle. Your arm would go down and back and you would flip your hand up, and just at the right moment release the card with your thumb and watch it rotate to the ground. A good card flipper had control of his card and knew exactly how to make it land heads up or heads down….well, most of the time. Of course we would play with all our doubles, and if you were a big winner at flipping you had plenty of doubles to choose from.

Then we learned the art of negotiation. This involved trading your baseball cards. It’s amazing the things we did as kids that prepared us for adulthood.  How was I going to get Yogi Berra’s card from Mayor? Would he take a few Met’s and maybe a Willie Mays plus a dozen other cards for that card? It all came down to negotiation.

But flipping and trading were not the only use for baseball cards. A brand new baseball card made a great clicker for your bicycle. We would attach the card to the frame of the bike wheel with a cloths pin. The card would stick out just enough to hit the spokes of the wheel. So when the wheel turned the card would click against the spokes. If you really wanted them to hear you coming you would attach a card to each side of the wheel on both wheels. We thought it was pretty neat!

We made all sorts of things that kept us busy. One little street invention was called a carpet gun. A neat little device that shot pieces of linolium. We would get a piece of wood about the size of a rifle. To one end we would nail a heavy rubber band. At the opposite end we would nail a wooden spring type clothspin. You would pull the rubberband back and attach the end to the clothspin, then place a piece of linolium between the stretched out rubber band. Take aim, and release the rubberband by openeing the clothspin with your thumb.  It’s amazing the things you can do with a rubber band and a clothspin.

One year, me, Junior, Johnny Boy and Mayor were playing in my back yard and my father made us wooden swords. We thought it was great! Swashbuckling around the driveway. Until Johnny Boy got hurt. Nearly lost an eye.  Nothing life threatening, just a superficial wound.  Johnny Boy’s parents were not too thrilled about what my father did. Ever do somthing as a parent for your kids and never really thought it through?  My father was good at that. At least he didn’t buy us all BB guns!

 

Grilled  Pressed Chicken With Fresh Herb Marinade

  • 1 whole young chicken, prepared
  • 1 sprig of fresh rosemary
  • 7-8 fresh mint leaves
  • 2 sprigs of fresh oregano
  • 10 fresh basil leaves
  • 2 fresh sage leaves
  • 2 cloves garlic, chopped
  • 1/2 cup red wine vinegar
  • 1/4 olive oil
  • 1 tablespoon salt
  • 1/2 teaspoon fresh ground black pepper
  • 1 tablespoon honey
  • 1/4 cup white wine

 

Once you salt and wash your chicken, rinse and dry it off well and place breast side down on a cutting board. With a pair of kitchen scissors, start from the tail side and cut down the back bone to the other end. Make the same cut along the other side of the backbone to remove it. Discard the back bone or save to make chicken stock.

Once the backbone is removed you can flatten the chicken by pressing the legs and thighs down and flatten the breast. The chicken is now ready to marinate.

Chop all the fresh herbs with the garlic to a fine dice. Place the herbs and garlic in a small mixing bowl. Add the vinegar, olive oil, salt, pepper , honey and white wine. Mix well.

If the chicken is small enough you can marinate it in a large zip lock bag. Or you can place the chicken in a container large enough to hold the flattened  chicken and marinade.

Stir the marinade well and pour over the chicken in the container or plastic bag. Seal the bag or cover the container and place in the refrigerator for at least 6 hours or overnight. Turn the bag or chicken in the container at least once during the marinade.

Once you have your hot coals prepared turn the dampers on the grill to the lowest setting closed. If you are using a gas grill keep the temperature on low to keep the chicken from burning.

You can use 1 or 2 bricks covered in foil, depending on the size of the chicken,  or a heavy cast iron pan with the bottom covered in foil to press the chicken while it is cooking. Place the chicken with the rib side facing the coals and the breast up.

Place the brick or cast iron pan on top of the chicken. Cover the grill if you have a cover and cook this way turning about every 10 minutes.

Carefully remove the brick or cast iron pan with pot holders and with tongs and a spatula turn the chicken on the other side. Place the weight on top of the chicken and cook another 10 minutes.  If you get flair up you have the dampers open too much. Turn them down so the chicken cooks without burning. Total cooking time should be about 50 minutes.

Once the chicken is cooked place on a platter and serve with your favorite salad or vegetables.

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Mpanada Ragusana – Broccoli and Olives

Posted on June 25, 2010 by Peter Bocchieri

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This mpanada is one of my family favorites. There are a number fillings we put in these pies, but this one gets the prize. When I go to visit my mother in Long Island, this is what she asks me to make for her. Mom is 92 and has a limited diet, but she really enjoys this mpanada with the broccoli and olives. This version has also been a staple for Christmas Eve dinner with my family. There is something about the combination of the broccoli that is sauteed in garlic and olive oil with the addition of the briny olives. It taste wonderful. Once again, a combination of just a few ingredients, nothing fancy, but comes together really well.

Not surprising, this is my father’s favorite dish as well. I called my dad up the other day and told him that I’m picking him up for Father’s Day and we will have dinner together. He asked me if I’m making mpanada. I wasn’t planning on it, but, how could I refuse him. My dad is also 92. I’ll be grilling on the BBQ a whole chicken that I cut the back bone out of and opened up flat. I had it marinating overnight in a mixture of olive oil and red wine vinegar with a mixture of fresh mint, basil, oregano, rosemary and sage. All the fresh herbs I have growing in my patio garden. I’ll place it on the BBQ, flat, with a heavy cast iron pan on top of it, and grill it on both sides that way. The chicken along with the mpanada will make a great father’s day dinner. That and some Italian ice coffee for desert will make the meal complete.

 

For the dough:

  • 1 envelope dry yeast
  • 1 cup warm water
  • 1 teaspoon sugar
  • 3  1/4 cup all purpose flour
  • 1 teaspoon salt
  • 1/4 cup olive oil

Dissolve the yeast in your mixing bowl with warm water and sugar. In a separate bowl mix the flour and salt together. Place about two cups of the flour in the mixing bowl with the yeast mixture and the olive oil. With the dough hook mix on low speed for about 4 minutes. Add the rest of the flour a little at a time until the dough rides up the hook.

Place  any additional flour you have in the bowl on your work surface and knead the dough until it’s smooth and slightly tacky. Grease a medium bowl with olive oil and place the dough in the bowl and turn covering both sides with oil. Place a towel over the dough and allow to rise for about 1 hour or until double in size.

For the Filling

  • 2 1/2 pounds of broccoli
  • 1/2 cup water
  • 1 teaspoon salt
  • 4 cloves garlic, chopped
  • 6 ounces pitted kalamata, oil cured or Calabrese olives, roughly chopped
  • 1/4 cup olive oil
  • salt and pepper to taste

Cut the broccoli into individual florets. Rinse well.

In a large pan steam the broccoli in 1/2 cup water and 1 teaspoon of salt for about 7 minutes or until tender.

Uncover the pan and push the broccoli to one side and add olive oil and sauté garlic for 1 minute.

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Add olives and combine everything well.

Continue sautéing broccoli until very tender and soft, about 5 minutes. Salt and pepper to taste. Remember that the olives add salt to the dish so do not over salt.  Remove the pan from the heat and allow to cool slightly.

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Once the dough has risen, divide in half.  Roll out one half to about 15 inches round or to fit the pan you are putting it in. Lightly grease the baking pan with olive oil. Lay the dough over the pan and stretch to fit the pan.

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Evenly spread the broccoli mixture over the dough, leaving about 1 inch of space around the edges. Moisten the edges with water so the second half of the dough seals well.

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Roll out the second half of the dough to fit over the dough in the pan. Lay it over the pan and seal the edges, folding the bottom over the top and press to seal. Cut about three holes on the top to allow the steam to escape.

Place the pie in a 375 degree preheated oven for about 35 minutes or until golden brown.

Allow the pie to cool for about 15 minutes before serving. This mpanada is also good at room temperature. If you are making it ahead of time, just reheat till it warms through.

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THE FRUIT BOWL INCIDENT – Mom's Fruit Salad

Posted on June 20, 2010 by Peter Bocchieri

Did you ever have an event happen in your life, specifically during childhood, that stuck with you your entire life? I’m not talking about a life altering experience. Just something you did as a child that no one ever let you forget. As a matter of fact, each time the story gets told it seems to take on a life of its own. Like it’s being told for the very first time, by brothers and sisters and cousins. And the reaction is always the same. You get red in the face when you hear it and you have to fill in the left out parts because they never get it the same twice. I have such a story. It’s become an “urban legend” in my family and never gets old. It became known as “The Fruit Bowl Incident”.

For the record, this is what happened.

I must have been 3 or 4 years old at the time. It was 1957 or 58. I remember being very young. I was in the basement with my mother and remember she was ironing some cloths. We had the TV on. It was one of those giant 12″ TV’s, you know, the one that didn’t have a station changer that clicked , but you tuned in the TV programs like a radio. I always had an active imagination and like many children of the day, would utilize every day household items for play things. This was a time when all you needed to keep busy was a little pink ball and a stick. I used to love to play “soldier”. Running around the house and diving in and out of corners using the entire basement as my “battlefield”. Like any good soldier I had a cut off 2×4 as my rifle and for my helmet I would use an aluminum fruit bowl that my mother kept on the kitchen table, minus the fruit.

Let me give you a description of the culprit that etched this story into my family’s history books. This fruit bowl was made of a flat aluminum and had scalloped edges. It almost looked like a flower basket. And it had a handle attached to it. A very strong handle. When I put it on it looked like a pretty cool World War 1 helmet. Now, I had been playing with this equipment for some time and this particular day was no different than any other….so I thought.

As far as my mother knew, this was like any other day in the Bocchieri household. Or so she thought. My brother and sister were at school for the day, my father was at work, my Grandparents were busy working in the butcher shop and my mother was taking care of the usual household chores as I played and kept myself busy. At one point she felt a tug on her dress and when she looked down she saw that I was very upset. “What’s wrong?”, she asked. I told her ” I can’t take my helmet off”. She gave me a look of disbelief and quipped, “you always play with that silly fruit bowl, just slide it off”. I looked up at her with my panic in my eyes and told her that I couldn’t.

She put down the iron and knelled down beside me on one knee and in her calm maternal voice she said, “here sweetheart, let me try”.

I stood there with my head bobbing back and fourth as she tried to slip the handle in one direction, then the other from under my chin. It wasn’t coming off! At that point my mother became more animated. She sat me down in a chair and told me not to move as she ran in the kitchen for some olive oil. She came running back to me with a dish towel soaked in the oil and rubbed it all around the handle and my chin. After I was totally lubricated she made another attempt to remove the fruit bowl from my head. IT WASN’T COMING OFF!!!!!

Now, my mother has had a lot of experience dealing with emergencies between me and my brother and sister over the years. And you would think that a simple problem like taking a fruit bowl off your child’s head would have been a cake walk for her. But she panicked! She lifted me up into her arms and placed a coat over me and the fruit bowl, it was cold outside. As she held me in one arm she ran outside and started to bang on my neighbor’s door for help. My neighbor Julia opened the door, seeing me in my mother’s arms with a coat draped over my head with what looked like my mother’s fruit bowl under the cover. “Please, Julia, you have to help me”, my mother shouted, ” Peter has my fruit bowl stuck on his head. And I need someone to hold him in the car so he doesn’t choke to death on the way to the police station”. At this point I started crying. Julia was in tears as well…..with laughter. Unfortunately my mother did not see any humor in this situation.

The three of us climbed into my father’s 54 Mercury and Julia held me on her lap as my mother took off for help. All the while, Julia was trying to slip off the fruit bowl from my head and my mother kept yelling at her to “stop, you’ll choke him!!”

When we arrived at the police station my mother ran around the car and lifted me off of Julia’s lap and ran up to the desk Sargent inside the police station. As she whisked the coat off of my head, like a magician that just produced a bouquet of flowers out of thin air, she pleaded with him to ” please help help me get this fruit bowl off of my son’s head.” I think the desk Sargent needed a break like this today. I’m sure with all the crime and problems he’s seen come through that door over the years this was one of those moments that probably made him glad he graduated from the police academy.

As my mother sat me on the front desk of the police station the Sargent leaned over and and grabbed the fruit bowl from the top with one hand and with his other hand under my chin tried to slip the handle forward. He began pressing down on top of the bowl trying to get more space under my chin so the handle would slip off. IT WASN’T COMING OFF!!!

The Sargent kept struggling with this stubborn helmet but wasn’t making any progress. He was lifting and tugging and pulling and twisting but the darn thing would not come off. A well dressed detective was coming into the precinct and walked over to see what all the commotion was about. At this point the Sargent suggested we call the Daily News because he saw a photo opportunity in this moment. My mother would have nothing to do with that. The detective very calmly walked over to me and said, “if the damn thing went onto his head, it’s gotta come off!” Sound logic. I believe he pressed my ears against my head, first one side, then the other as he slowly slipped the handle past the center point of my head. He might have made a comment about who dumbed this salad bowl on my head because he felt a good load of oil around my face. Ever slowly and methodically he inched the handle around my ears and pulled the skin tight under my chin and before I knew it, it came off.

I think my mother started crying at that point, once the adrenalin left her body. She thanked the Sargent and the Detective and he handed her back the fruit bowl and we walked out the precinct with me in my mother’s arms and Julia carrying the fruit bowl.

After the “fruit bowl incident” we kept the fruit bowl on the kitchen table, filled with fruit. My mother went to Toy Town the next day and bought me an army helmet.

Mom’s Fruit Salad
 
  • 1/2 cantaloupe, cubed
  • 1 quart of strawberries, hulled and quartered
  • 1 peach, cut in 1/8, squeeze juice of 1/4 lemon over the peaches
  • 4-5 mint leaves, roughly chopped
  • 1/2 pound white seedless grapes
  • 2 teaspoons sugar
  • 2 tablespoons Sambuca or Anisette

 

In a large bowl place the quartered strawberries and sprinkle with the sugar. Cut the cantaloupe into bite sized pieces and place in the bowl with the strawberries. Add the peaches, grapes, mint and Anisette.

Mix well and garnish with some whole mint leaves. Cover and let cool in refridgerator 1 hour. Mix well before serving.

 
 
 
 
 

 

Posted in Dessert, Fruit | Tagged , , , | 3 Comments

Roasted Pepper and Cheese Frittata Sandwich

Posted on June 18, 2010 by Peter Bocchieri

School’s out for summer!

I can’t think of a better high than leaving your last class of the day and getting out of school for summer vacation. Especially if you didn’t have to go to summer school! As an adult, you forget that sense of jubilation knowing you have a full two months of summer ahead of you with nothing to do but play with your friends. As you get older and responsibilities grow, and you get a job, summer is just another season with a two week vacation thrown in there somewhere. But as a child, the freedom of summer vacation put a little extra “kick” in your step as you dumped your school notebook in the trash on your way home.

No early bedtime hours, no homework, no school. Just a summer of stick ball, Good Humor ice cream and staying out till dark catching lightning bugs in jars.  The block came alive during the summer. The street that I lived on, 77 Street, was a one way street and just wide enough to play a good game of stick ball. The only time you had to stop playing was when a member of the opposing team, who was facing traffic, would call, “CAR” or “TIME OUT”,  the signal that a car was coming down the block and to get out of the way.  Except on the few occasions when my grandfather would drive his ’53 Hudson Wasp up the wrong way of the street, then the batter would warn everyone that “Mr Pete” is coming….get out of the way!!!”  And if you were in the middle of a swing, well, the driver had just better slow down ’cause you weren’t going to “do over” a perfect hit. It was a symbiotic relationship.

Same thing when we opened the hydrants. We heard somewhere that you had to go to the local police precinct to get a sprinkler cap or something. We were kids, how were we going to get there? I would go down in my father’s workshop and come out with a plumbers wrench. We would dig through the neighbor’s garbage pails till we came up with the perfect can, usually a good steel tomato sauce can.  That was our sprinkler cap. One side of the can was usually cut out already so we just had to open the other end of the can. My friend Mike Rizzo was a master at holding the can in front of the open hydrant.  It was not an easy thing to do. He would interlock his fingers around the can, and press both his palms around it. Then, Mike would position himself behind the Johnny pump and squat down, pushing his body against it and holding onto the can for dear life. When he gave the signal I would turn the nut on top of the hydrant to full open. Man oh man! Mike could direct that torrent of water in any direction he wanted without loosing the can.

Old lady Julia was sitting by her open window that day enjoying her cigarette about two houses down and across the street from where the hydrant was. I could still remember her screaming, “G-d damn kids!!!” as she jumped up from her seat and quickly closed the window. Mike made that flow of water go two stories high, over the roofs of the houses across the street. And if you were brave enough to run in front of him…let’s just say you got a little wet. Which was the whole idea!  Our sneakers would squish for hours after we got drenched by the hydrant. But it sure felt good. It sure beat running along side the street cleaning water trucks, another way we kept cool on those hot summer days.  And when I said we had a symbiotic relationship with the cars that came by, you could see them slowing down to shut their window before they passed by.  We weren’t stopping for anyone. They are lucky we didn’t charge them two bucks for a car wash!  Every once in a while we would get the dude who just washed and waxed his car and wouldn’t pass until we shut off the water. We were respectful.

Sooner or later Mike’s hand would get tired and the can would go flying across the street with the pressure of the water. I couldn’t keep that can in my hand for 10 seconds before it came flying out. Mike just had the touch, and the grip. The streets had a certain fresh smell after we opened the hydrant. Everything was washed clean.

We did something different every day during the summer. Fads came and went. One week everyone was buying tops from the local candy store. By the time I learned how to spin the darn things something else came along. Duncan Yo-Yo’s was another toy everyone had. The following week we were taking out our skates and attaching them to our sneakers. I can’t tell you the scabs I had on my knees from those things. City sidewalks weren’t the best surface to go skating on. I don’t remember seeing disclaimers on those metal skates that warned users “beware of cracked sidewalks, may cause bleeding knees”.

Skully (a.k.a. skelsies) was one of the most popular street games we played. We played it on the street using bottle caps filled with wax on a  board drawn with chalk.  This was before twist off caps on soda bottles. We were very careful to pry open the bottle cap so not to bend the little metal disk. It needed to be flat.  Anywhere from 2 to 6 (or more) players can play. The basic theme is to use your fingers to shoot your piece, your favorite bottle cap, through the numbered course drawn on the street, then “kill” all the other players that were in the box you landed in, similar to marbles, leaving you the winner.

If we had a ball or a stoop, a street or a wall, we had everything we needed to spend countless hours playing and having fun. When I came in the house for dinner I would gulp down my food and head back out to play some night games, like Werewolf A.K.A. Ringoleavio. Werewolf was like a game of hide and seek. We played with two teams. The process of choosing teams was also a time honored process. Each team captain would “choose up” with a game of “odds, even”, using their fingers and the best out of three would pick first.  One team was the hunters and the other team was the hunted. The city streets were perfect for this game, with cars and fences and alleyways to hide in.

The goal of the hunters would be to catch all the members of the other team. A stoop would be the hunters base, or jail. The team being hunted would try to avoid capture and if possible, free their jailed compatriots. Not rocket science, but we did have coordinated strategy and deception. It also helped to have a few fast runners on your team. I had lead feet so I was usually the “jail keeper”.  The game would go on for hours.

I tell you, I had a good night sleep every night. And forget about ring around the colar. When I took off my sneakers at night I had more dirt around my toes than you could imagine and we always took a bath at night. That way, as soon as the sun was up, we were back in the streets playing our hearts out.

 

Roasted Pepper and Cheese Frittata

  • 1 cup roasted peppers ,  see earlier blog for recipe
  • 2 eggs per serving
  • 1/4 cup sharp provolone cheese, diced
  • 1 tablespoon fresh basil, chopped
  • 1 teaspoon fresh oregano, chopped
  • salt and fresh ground pepper to taste
  • 2 tablespoons olive oil

In a medium non stick oven proof frying pan heat 2 tablespoons of olive oil on medium flame. Add the roasted peppers. Cook peppers for 2 minutes until warmed through.

Beat the eggs  in a small bowl and add a dash of salt and pepper.

Pour the eggs over the peppers.

Add cheese, and chopped herbs. Tilt the pan around so the egg covers the entire bottom of pan. Cook for 1-2 minutes until the edges start to firm.

Put the pan with the eggs on the top shelf of a 350 degree oven and bake until top is golden brown, about 4 minutes.

Remove the pan from the oven and run a spatula around the edges of the frittata to loosen it. Place a plate, larger than the pan over the pan and carefully flip the pan over so the pan is on top and the plate is on the bottom releasing the frittata from the pan onto the plate.

Cut the fritatta into serving pieces and place on a fresh slice of Italian bread to make a sandwich.

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Macaroni Veloce e Fresco

Posted on June 16, 2010 by Peter Bocchieri

Getting your hands dirty

One of the things I like most  about summer is having a fresh herb garden available. Outside on my deck I have pots filled with the essentials… basil, oregano, mint, sage, and rosemary. Not to leave out the four tomato plants that are also growing. I used to love to have a garden, but with work and lack of time, a patio garden seemed to be the way to go. Anyone who has grown their own tomatoes know that there is no substitute for ripe  tomatoes right off the plant.

When I moved up from Brooklyn to Rockland County one of the first things I did was put in a large garden. Back then I was a lot younger and had much more energy to keep a large garden going. It must have been at least 25 feet x 20 feet. I tried growing everything, including asparagus, melons, corn. You name it, I grew it. There was nothing more pleasurable than growing your own vegetables. I remember the year Sugar Snap Peas came out and they were the variety that you let the pea grow to full maturity and you can eat the pod and all. They were like sugar. My son Michael was about 3 or 4 years old at the time and he would stand in front of the trellis eating the peas right off the vine. Nothing gave me more pleasure than watching him enjoy the fresh sweetness of something I grew.

I didn’t stop with the vegetable garden.  I had planted 13 fruit trees on my property. Apples, pears, nectarines, peaches , filberts, and let’s not leave out a fig tree and grape vines. Yes, I turned into my grandfather. If that’s all I had to do I would love to farm. It’s a humbling experience working with the soil and watching your garden grow. And then enjoying the fruits of your labor.

This sauce is true to its name, quick and fresh. Adding the fresh basil after the sauce is cooked gives it a freshness that you can taste. Ideally you should use 8-9 fresh picked plumb tomatoes. But until they start coming in, the canned tomatoes work just fine. If you put the pot of water on before you make the sauce, just as soon as the water boils and the macaroni cooks the sauce will be ready.

 

Macaroni Veloce e Fresco

  • 2 oz pancetta, diced
  • 1 medium onion, chopped
  • 3 cloves garlic, sliced thin
  • 6 large fresh basil leaves, julienned
  • 1/2 teaspoon fresh oregano, chopped
  • 4 tablespoons olive oil
  • 1   28oz can Italian plumb tomatoes, hand crushed
  • salt and black pepper to taste
  • 1/4 pound caciocavallo cheese, cubed.
  • 1/4 cup grated Parmesan cheese
  • 1 pound small ziti or any macaroni of your choice

 

In a pan large enough to hold the macaroni after it’s cooked, heat olive oil. Cook the pancetta and onions about 5 minutes. Add the garlic and cook 2 minutes.

Crush the tomatoes with your hands into the pan, or you can crush them with your hands in a large bowl and then place in the pan. Add the rest of the liquid from the can. You want chunks of tomato.  Add oregano, salt and pepper and cook at a low simmer only 10 minutes.

When the pasta is cooked, drain and add the macaroni to the sauce. Mix well.

Take the pan off of the heat and add caciocavallo cheese, parmesan cheese and fresh basil.

Mix well and serve immediately.

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

Giggiulena – Sesame Candy

Posted on June 14, 2010 by Peter Bocchieri

Jaw breakers

 

Torrone, otherwise known as nougat, is a concoction made from honey, well-whipped egg whites, vanilla, and walnuts or almonds; it’s an ancient sweet and it’s made throughout Italy, and Sicily’s is especially renowned. Cubbaita is an older version developed by the Arabs who lived in Sicily. Cubbaita more resembles a nut crunch than it does what most people associate with the word torrone. But it is a first step in the direction of torrone.  Giggiulena (ju-ju-lena)  is what my family and other Sicilians call this nutty treat and is easy to make with a few simple ingredients. If you can’t find bulk sesame seeds, any bakery will sell them to you. I went to the bakery at my Shop Rite and they sold me as much as I needed.

My mother remembers eating these candies when she was a little girl. Her aunt would make them for the holidays and give them out to the children. When I was a child I got these candies as well. I remember my grandmother putting these candies out in a candy dish when company came over. They were always a welcomed treat.

During street festivals in Sicily, the vendors make these candies right outside on the streets, with huge copper kettles, caramelizing the sugar and honey and making these sesame candies along with almond brittle and torrone. These candies were so hard they used to break them apart with hammers and axes. To save your teeth from destruction it pays to warm them in your mouth for a while before you start chewing.

While the candy is still soft, it’s worth cutting them into really small pieces so you avoid having to bite off a piece from a larger chunk. That way you can just pop one in your mouth and soften it up. They are very delicious!

Giggiulena

Ingredients:

  • 1 pound 2 ounces  honey
  • 8 ounces  sugar
  • 1 pound  sesame seeds
  • 8 ounces  blanched, peeled, minced almonds
  • Orange or lemon zest

Preparation:

Grease with oil a shallow pan or a piece of marble  to pour the cooked confection.

In a 3 quart sauce pan mix all ingredients.

Cook over a medium flame, stirring continuously between 5 to 10 minutes until sugar caramelizes (at 250 to 275 degrees, if you have a candy thermometer) and mixture becomes lightly golden. Don’t burn the mixture, keep an eye one it.


Pour mixture in the greased pan or on the marble counter and with the help of a greased spatula level the nougat and shape it into a uniform block, about 1/2 inch thick. Before it gets cold cut into pieces 1×2 inches.

Wrap and seal each piece in wax paper and the giggiulena will keep  if properly stored in an airtight container.

Posted in Dessert | Tagged , , | 1 Comment

Fried Cheese

Posted on June 11, 2010 by Peter Bocchieri

Swimming with the fishes

When I was in Sicily as a young teenager I was staying at a small family run resort by the Ionian Sea near the town of Riposto with my brother and Aunt and Uncle. One afternoon, when everyone was taking a siesta,  I borrowed a diving mask and snorkel from the resort owner’s son. I headed out into the ocean and was totally enjoying the underwater sights of the coral and sea life. I came upon two scuba divers that were hunting for octopus so I followed them from above and watched as they went looking for their prize.

I’m not sure what made me stop and take my head out of the water, but when I did, I was really far from land.  And as the water drained from my ears I heard a faint sound of what sounded like my Aunt Angie calling my name. There on the shore, I saw someone waiving a white handkerchief as if they were stranded on a deserted island and trying to catch the attenion of a passing ship. It was my Aunt Angie, mortified that I was so far out at sea, and trying to get my attention. I was really far from the shore.  If I had to guess I was at least a half mile out. I was always a strong swimmer and didn’t think much of it, but I knew I was going to catch hell when I got back to the shore.

The last thing my Aunt Angie wanted to do was explain to my mother that I was lost at sea. She was responsible for me and my brother and this was just too much for her to bare. When I got back on dry land I think my Aunt needed a cold towel to calm her nerves. I told her that I was following some scuba divers and lost track of where I was. I’m surprised she didn’t chain me to the bed for the rest of the day. She was ready to have the Riposto Coast Guard dispatched to go searching for me, if they had one.

Oh well, what good is being young if you can’t get into a little trouble. As everyone went back to sleep I took the diving mask and snorkel back to the young boy who was kind enough to make me borrow them. As I walked through the dining area of the resort, I smelled something amazing coming from the kitchen. After a one mile swim I was really hungry! I peeked into the kitchen and saw the owner of the resort making something on the stove. I held up the snorkel and mask to let him know I brought them back. And motioned that whatever he was making smelled awfully good.

He was frying some cheese to make himself a little snack. He motioned for me to come in and I saw him place the golden pan fried cheese on a plate. He sprinkled it with some oregano and black pepper and went back over to the frying pan and added some vinegar and sugar. He poured the mixture over the cheese then broke off a piece of Italian bread and with his fork cut off a piece of the cheese and placed it on top of the bread and handed it to me. He enjoyed watching my face as I bit into that tasty morsel. I’ll never forget how good that tasted.

WARNING! If you make this dish with anyone in the vicinity of your kitchen, make sure you have enough for every one. If you’re not making this alone it will not last long. Because as soon as anyone else in the house smells the garlic along with the aroma of the oregano and vinegar drift through the house I guarantee they will come to see what smells so good.

If there was ever a dish that you had a craving for this will soon become one of them, once you taste it.

Oh, later that evening we were all walking by a seaside pier not far from where we were staying. At one end of the pier  were these two young fellows standing by a bucket that was filled with water. As we got closer one of the young gentleman started negotiating something with my Uncle Benny. I saw him looking in the bucket and motioning something with his hands. My Aunt Angie started laughing. As my uncle walked away from the men they were following him, begging him to take what was in the bucket. I asked my Aunt Angie what was all that about. It seems that the young gentlemen were trying to sell my Uncle Benny a live octopus. I wonder if it were the two scuba divers that I had been following that day.

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Fried Cheese

  • ¼ cup of olive oil
  • 4  cloves of garlic (crushed)
  • 4 slices of Caciocavallo, about ¾ lb
  • ½ teaspoon of oregano
  • black  pepper to taste
  • 4 tablespoons of red wine vinegar
  • ½ tablespoon of sugar

In a no stick skillet heat the oil on a medium-high heat till very hot. You will just start to see the oil smoking. Add the garlic, the slices of cheese and turn the heat to low.
Cook covered for about 1 minute, turn the cheese over and cook covered for an additional 1 minute, or until golden in color.
Remove the pan from the fire, add the oregano and pepper, and transfer the fried cheese to a serving dish.
Add the vinegar and sugar into the hot oil, cook for about 1-2 minutes.

DSCN1442

Cover the cheese with this sauce, use the garlic as garnish and serve immediately with fresh Italian bread.

Posted in Antipasto | Tagged , , , | 2 Comments

Peaches and Wine

Posted on June 10, 2010 by Peter Bocchieri

Barina

We called her “Barina”.  She was a sweet, jolly woman about my grandmother’s age. When she came over to visit my grandparents on a Sunday afternoon we knew she entered the house when my grandmother buzzed her in and she came in through the front door. The echo of her loud voice would radiate throughout the house from the hallway as she greeted my grandmother who was at the top of the stairs. Each time she visited the greetings sounded like they hadn’t seen each other in years.

Barina’s name was actually Lili, like my grandmother. The name for godmother in Italian is Madrina. But in the Sicilian dialect, godmother is Barina. This is the name  we knew her by, Barina.

Barina was the godmother of my Uncle Sal. She was about the same height as my grandmother, all of 5 feet or so.  Her hair was short and curly and dyed that strawberry blond that so many older Italian woman fancied.  She always wore a fancy dress when she came to visit and always sported gold bracelets and rings and necklaces. She even had a few gold teeth in her mouth, which for the old timers was a status symbol. A sign of wealth and prosperity.

My grandmother would open the door at the top of the steps of the hallway  that led to our apartment and yell out that Barina was here, to come up and say hello. When I heard that, I knew what I was in for. At first I would hesitate but I knew that Barina would always bring a box of my favorite cookies, savoiardi biscuits,  that I just  could not resist. I’m sure it was her way of getting me up there. Every time Barina visited she would bring a box of these cookies. I only knew them as “Barina cookies”.  Not until the writing of this blog did I discover their real name, Savoiardi biscuits.

I was around 5 or 6 years old and even at that age I knew I was going in for the slaughter. I went up the long flight of stairs that led to my grandparent’s apartment and as I got closer to the top, Barina’s jovial voice grew louder and louder. As I walked into the dining room I could see her sitting at the dinning room table. As soon as she saw me her arms stretched out and she stood up and shouted with a big smile exposing her gold teeth,  “Dio, dio, che beju gista figiu. Benedica”. (Oh my God, how beautiful is this child. God Bless him.) As I got closer to Barina her out stretched hands wrapped around my face as she held up my head for all to see, and began to pinch my chubby cheeks moving my head from side to side. And then came the kisses. Not just a kiss, but a rapid repeat of kisses, on my sore cheeks that she just squeezed the blood out of. I would count at least 6 or 7 kisses within a 3 second time span. And they were wet. All this for some cookies, I thought.  And of course, then, Barina had to relish me with love on the other cheek. So she tilted my head to the other side and gave me the rapid repeat of kisses on the other cheek. At that point I pulled away and with the shirt sleeve of my arm, wiped off all the slobbering she bestowed on me. She cupped her hands in front of her face and couldn’t resist one more squeeze of my cheeks as she proclaimed, “benedica, benedica”. By then my cheeks were numb from all the pinching and kissing.

I remember one time she squeezed my cheeks so hard it brought me to tears. Which of course after that Barina felt bad and kissed me some more. I don’t know which was worse!

My grandmother had put out a bowl of fruit and candies and a pot of  espresso coffee and I went into the kitchen to pour myself a glass of milk so I could enjoy the wonderful cookies Barina had bought. I sat down at the far end of the table from where Barina was sitting with my glass of milk and my grandmother gave me a couple of cookies from the dish.

As I sat there dunking my cookies in the ice cold milk, the whole process repeated itself, as my mother came up the stairs to greet Barina. For some reason though, adults didn’t get their cheeks pinched or machine gun kisses. That was only reserved for the cute little kids, like me.

DSCN1438

Peaches and wine, a great little desert my grandfather made after  Sunday dinner when peaches were in season. He would take a nice large ripe peach and slice it right at the table into his glass. He then would pour his red wine over the peaches and let it sit for about 20 minutes or so or as long as he could stand it. The peaches would soak up the wine and get a red tinge to them. Now they are ready to eat. It’s a simple desert but really hits the spot after a good meal. I’m not sure if it’s the peaches that make the wine taste so good or the wine that make the peaches taste good. Either way, it taste great!

When I was a little kid I remember my grandfather offering me a slice of the peach that was soaked in the wine. I remember back then it really tasted good. That might have been my first experience tasting wine.

The wine you use really doesn’t matter, as long as it’s a full bodied red wine. The brand I buy, Fortisimo, works really well with this. As long as you can drink the wine, it’s the right one.

As far as a recipe for this treat, it’s really quite simple.

Take a ripe fresh peach, with or without the skin. I prefer the skin on. Slice the peach into a large glass and pour enough red wine into the glass to cover the peaches. Allow to sit for at least 20 minutes.  Enjoy!

Posted in Dessert, Drinks, Fruit | Tagged , , | 2 Comments

Roasted Stuffed Pork Tenderloin With Potatoes

Posted on June 7, 2010 by Peter Bocchieri

There are a lot of different flavors going on here. Once again, the hallmark of great Italian cooking, simple ingredients combined to make a great tasting dish. And each ingredient does not mask the other but stands out on it’s own to work in harmony with each other.

Pork tenderloin is a delicate meat to begin with. The butter wine sauce that’s made in the preparation of this dish brings out the flavors of the fresh sage and piquant taste of the provolone. The Italian sausage stuffing just ties it all together. A truly delicious taste sensation in every bite.

My grandmother made a lot of dishes this way. Few ingredients that work together, experiencing a totally different flavor when combined. She did it with her chicken and lemon, and her pork chops and broccoli that I’ll share in a future blog. And this dish is a further example of truly good, simple Italian fare.

The hardest part of this recipe is preparing the pork loin. For those with some cooking experience this is a moderately difficult dish. For a beginner it can be daunting.  If you don’t want to tackle the butterflying of the loin along with the tying of the roast I suggest you have your butcher butterfly it for you. But you will have to attempt to tie the roast unless you want to give the ingredients to your butcher and have him put it together. It pays to have a good butcher in the neighborhood.

I’m self taught when it comes to butchering. Maybe it’s something in the genes that I inherited from my grandfather and his father, both butchers. I remember one year I actually boned an entire 15 pound turkey. It took a little time but I eventually got the hang of it. I later stuffed the turkey and rolled and tied it into a roast. I brought it to Christmas dinner one year. All I can say is, you need a good sharp knife. You need the right tools to do the right job. I invested in a set of top quality knifes years ago and it has paid off in spades. They will last you a lifetime and make tasks like this one much easier. You can’t cut a tree down with a nail file.

 

Roasted Stuffed Pork Tenderloin With Potatoes

  • One 2 1/2 pound boneless pork tenderloinloin, butterflied lengthwise and flattened until 1/3 inch thick
  • Salt and freshly ground pepper
  • 4-5 sage leaves, coarsely chopped
  • 8 ounces provolone cheese, thinly sliced
  • 3 cooked Italian sausages, cut into 1/4 inch-thick slices
  • all purpose flour for dredging
  • 2 tablespoons olive oil
  • 2 tablespoons butter
  • 1/2 cup dry white wine
  • 1 cup vegetable broth or chicken broth
  • 2 pounds of peeled potatoes, cut into 1 inch chunks

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Preparing the tenderloin of pork

Whole pork tenderloin usually comes in two pieces. Work each piece separately. Take your sharp boning knife and make a slit down the middle of the tenderloin.

Cut about half way through and open up the loin, hence the butterfly cut.

Keep slicing until the loin is laying flat, being careful not to cut all the way through. Do the same with the other piece.

 Once you have both loins butterflied, lay one down on top of a piece of plastic wrap and cover it with another piece of plastic wrap.

Pound it with a kitchen mallet to flatten it out. Do the same with the second piece.

OR YOU CAN HAVE YOUR BUTCHER BUTERFLY AND FLATTEN YOUR PORK LOIN.

Once you have both pieces flattened, lay one slightly overlapping the other, by about an inch. Now you can stuff the tenderloin.

Season one side of the flattened piece of pork with salt and pepper and arrange the sage, cheese, and sausages over it evenly.

Roll it up on the long side and tie with butchers string.

First tie each end with a good knot then add three more ties evenly spaced around the middle.

Take a length of butcher string,double the length of the loin and tie with a knot to one of the end ties. Go under and around each tie as you thread the string up one side of the roast then turn and do the same for the other side, securing the last tie with a knot. You know have a tied roast ready for baking.

 Dredge the roast with flour.

Heat the oil and butter in a frying pan and brown the roast all over. Add the wine and simmer until it is reduced by half.

Transfer the roast and liquid to a roasting pan.

Add the broth and potatoes. Season potatoes with salt and pepper. Roast for 1 hour.

Remove the roast and let cool 10 minutes before cutting int 1/2 inch thick slices.

Strain the liquid in the pan and serve with the potatoes and pork.

Posted in Pork | Tagged , , | 1 Comment