Mom’s Chicken Soup

Posted on April 25, 2010 by Peter Bocchieri
Can We ever make our parents happy?
 

Lord knows we try. After all, we only have one mother and one father. Unless you’re married, then you have in-laws to add to the list. Some of my Jewish friends talk about the “Jewish guilt” they have endured by their parents, specifically their mothers. “What’s the matter….you don’t call? I never hear from you. I forget sometimes I have a son/daughter. When am I going to see you again, in two years?  That’s ok, I’d rather be alone, you go and have a good time,  I’ll just stay home with your father. That’s OK, I’m used to it.” When I hear their stories I think to myself, my Jewish friends don’t own that guilt trip. My mother has them beat hands down.

My mother dishes out guilt like a short order cook dishes out hash browns and eggs at the Bendix Diner. Don’t get me wrong, I love my mother. I just wish I could convince her of that!

I don’t think it has anything to do with race or religion. It’s that European thing and the struggles each group endured and grew up with. Many came or escaped to this country to have the freedoms they couldn’t enjoy in their home country. They both struggled and made a life for themselves and their families and worked really hard to find those “streets that were paved in gold”…the reality was, they had to pave it themselves.

Now, how do struggling Europeans tie in with an over bearing Mother? I’m no psychiatrist, but maybe it comes from the fear of loss or separation, a need to be involved in every aspect of their child’s life. Their world revolves around us and in turn, they expect the same from us.

Allow me to illustrate. About 7 years ago I was visiting my friend Ned  in Florida. On my trip home my  connecting flight from Atlanta was cancelled. So I put myself on a waiting list for flights that were leaving every half hour to Newark, where I had my car parked.

My mother had my full itinerary, flight numbers,  time of departure, time of arrival, meal or no meal flights, etc. You know, she had to have my itinerary because, God forbid, if my plane ever crashed she would be able to stop it.  And like the Air Traffic Controllers in the flight tower, my mother was able to track my every move.

After an hour of waiting for the next available flight a message came over the airport PA system: “Will Peter Bocchieri please go to the courtesy phone at the customer service desk”. I thought I heard my name so I looked up from my book and listened more attentively to the second message, “Will Peter Bocchieri please go to the courtesy phone at the customer service desk”.

What the message should have announced, because in the background this is what I really heard, “Hello Peeta….this is you Mutha. Don’t worry sweetheart, I have everything under control and will get you home safely”.

I was just being paranoid. It couldn’t be. For some reason I put on my sunglasses.

I walked over to the customer service phone and as I picked up the phone I glanced over my shoulder to be sure that whoever was on the other side of that call was not within six feet of me to identify me. “Hello? this is Peter Bocchieri.”   I think the customer service rep was a little surprised to hear the voice of a 48-year-old man. She thought the person responding to the page would be a 10-year-old child that was traveling alone..”Peter, this is Delta customer service and we have been in touch with your mother. She was concerned that your flight was cancelled and booked you on the 12:30 flight to Kennedy Airport”.

I looked over my shoulder again and in total embarrassment I said, “That really isn’t necessary, I’m already on a waiting list for the next available flight to Newark where my car is parked. Can you please cancel that flight to Kennedy?” “The Delta rep was being professional and told me that would be no problem, but in her voice I could hear her thinking “boy, does this guy have an overbearing mother. I wonder if she still tucks him in at night!”

As I hung up the phone it dawned on me what if the customer service rep cancelled my standby status because she booked me on a scheduled flight. I was being paranoid again. I went back over to the customer service desk and found out I was still on standby and they assured me they would call me when the next available flight had a seat.

Thank goodness I took care of that. Now my thoughts turned to my mother. I was livid. How could she do this? Why would she do this? How can I allow her to do this?… Like I had a choice. I calmed myself down and went to the bar that was nearby and had a glass of wine. I did not want to call her in my current mental state and say something that I would be sorry for.

I dialed my mother as I took another gulp of wine. She answered. “Hello”. “Mom, it’s me.”  “Peeta, did you hear from the airline people?” “I heard from them mom.” “Oh, they were so nice and helpful. She sounded like such a nice woman. I wish you would meet somebody like that. I make novenas every day that you would meet somebody like that.”  “Yes mom, she was nice”  “Did you meet her?” “No mom, I was paged. On the airport PA system. The ENTIRE AIRPORT PA SYSTEM. ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND???? DO YOU THINK I”M STILL A CHILD. I’VE NEVER BEEN MORE  EMBARRASED!!!

“Why were you embarrased? I was only helping!  That’s what I get for thinking of you”.  Guilt…..guilt…..guilt.

 

I really know she can’t help herself. And NOTHING I could say will cause her to see this situation from any other perspective. In her mind she was just helping out. Taking care of her child. That is what she lives for. That is why I got married and moved to Rockland County at 20 years old. Maybe that’s why my Uncle, my mother’s brother, joined the army and lived halfway around the world.  Maybe Rockland County wasn’t far enough.

Chicken soup. Nothing makes you think more of home and mother than chicken soup. It’s warm, comforting and taste awfully good. This is my mother’s recipe for chicken soup. I’ve included a few different variations that all start with the basic recipe. From that there are two different versions she used to make. All three are delicious. Once you have the basic recipe made you can make the other ones from the left over soup. This soup freezes well, and when I make it I always freeze a few quarts. They are great to have on hand when you need that extra pick me up or when you come down with a cold. Nothing makes you feel better than hot chicken soup.

BASIC CHICKEN SOUP RECIPE

  • one whole chicken, rinsed. Be sure the package inside the chicken’s body cavity is removed. Save the giblets to put in the soup
  • 5 stalks of celery, rinsed
  • 6 carrots, peeled and rinsed
  • 3 medium onions
  • a handful of fresh flat leaf parsley, rinsed
  • 1 large potato, peeled
  • 6 black peppercorns
  • 1 tablespoon salt, or to taste
  • 1 bay leaf
  • 1 clove of garlic, mashed
  • Ditalini pasta added when soup is done

Fill a large soup pot with 6 quarts of cold water. Place pot on high flame and bring to a boil.

In the meantime prepare your vegetables. Cut the celery in half and leave the tops on. Peel carrots and cut off the tops and tips. Leave carrots whole. Peel the potato and onions. Leave the potato whole and cut the onions in half.

Once the water comes to a full boil add all of the ingredients except the chicken and pasta. This prevents soup scum from forming. It’s not harmful but it doesn’t look very nice. Once the water returns to a full boil carefully add the entire chicken and rinsed giblets. If there is too much water in the pot, ladle some out. Once the chicken is in you want to leave about a half inch of head space so your soup doesn’t boil over. Cover and simmer on medium-low flame for one hour.

After an hour shut off flame. Carefully remove the chicken and place in a dish to cool. Remove the carrots and potato and place in another dish to cool.

In a second pot, at least as large as the first pot, press the remaining vegetables thru a strainer into the second pot to extract all their flavor. Discard the pressed vegetables.

Carefully strain the stock into the second pot to remove the peppercorns and rest of the ingredients and any small bones that might have come loose from the chicken. Ladle it through the strainer.

You now have a pot of great chicken stock. Skin and bone the chicken and cut into bite sized pieces and add to the stock.

Roughly mash the carrots and potato with a potato masher and add to the stock. Add a tablespoon of salt or to taste.

I never add the pasta to the entire batch of soup. For every 2 quarts of soup I add 1/2 cup of Ditalini pasta and cook for 11 minutes. If you were serving the entire pot of soup you can add 1 – 1/2 cup of Ditalini pasta and cook till done. If you are afraid you might not have enough broth you can always cook the pasta in water then add the drained pasta to the soup.  Serve with plenty of Pecorino Romano grated cheese.

Chicken Soup With Tiny Meatballs

Follow recipe for Basic Chicken Soup, minus the pasta.

  • 1 pound ground chuck
  • 1 clove garlic finely chopped
  • 1/4 cup finely chopped flat leaf parsley
  • 1 cup dried bread crumbs
  • 3 large eggs
  • 4 oz whole milk
  • 2 oz  (about 1 cup) grated Romano cheese
  • 1 small onion grated
  • 6 fresh basil leaves finely chopped
  • 1 teaspoon salt
  •  fresh ground black pepper to taste

Mix all ingredients thoroughly with your hands  in a large bowl.  If mixture seems a little loose add more bread crumbs.

Pick off about a teaspoon of the meat mixture and roll into tiny meatballs. Add to the soup that is simmering. Cook for 10 minutes.

For ever 2 quarts of soup served add 1/2 cup of  Ditalini pasta and cook till done, about 11 minutes. Serve with grated cheese.

Chicken Soup with Pastina and Tiny Meatballs

Follow the recipe for Basic Chicken Soup with Tiny Meatballs without adding pasta. To every 2 quarts of soup add 3/4 cup of Pastina and cook for five minutes. Serve with grated cheese.

Posted in soup | Tagged , | 3 Comments

Pasta Aglio e Olio – Pasta With Garlic and Oil

Posted on April 24, 2010 by Peter Bocchieri

Peasant Food Is All That

I almost didn’t put this dish in my blog because of its simplicity. Then I thought, that is what this blog is all about. Italian cooking in its simplest form. Good food, comfort food, peasant food. Food we grew up eating and never gave it a second thought.

It drives me mad when I go into an Italian restaurant and see this dish on the menu and see what they charge for it. Are they insane? For a plate of aglio olio? You gotta be kidding. You can make this dish for pennies. This is truly a peasant food. There are so many dishes we eat today that have become a fad and originated from peasant food. Take pizza for instance, some dough, a little sauce and a bit of cheese.  I remember when it was 25 cents a slice and 10 cents for a small orange drink. It’s a billion dollar industry today!  Throw some salad or BBQ chicken on it (it’s sacrilegious as far as I’m concerned) and they will charge you $3 a slice.  Cook it in a brick oven? Oh my goodness! They will not even serve you slices.

Same thing with chicken wings. They were thrown out with the scraps. Until someone in Buffalo New York  was out of food and needed to feed a hungry crowd so he decided to fry them and serve them up with butter and hot sauce and a side of blue cheese dressing. Ever buy a bag of chicken wings? It cost more than a steak. My grandfather told me the rib meat was junk meat. You can get it for next to nothing. Have you ordered a rack of ribs lately?

I think I’ll open a trendy restaurant and sell aglio olio for $14 a plate. Add some parsley and take it to $15. You want the version with toasted bread crumbs? That will cost you $20…grated cheese and red pepper flakes extra.  If my grandmother only knew, she would shake her head and say “minqia”. That’s a dialect word for “holy cow!”

You can enjoy this dish any time. Takes minutes to prepare, as long as it takes your pasta water to boil.

  • 4 cloves of garlic, crushed
  • 1/2 cup olive oil
  • 1 pound of spagetti or linguini
  • red pepper flakes (optional)

In a large pot bring about 5 quarts of water to a boil. Add 1 tablespoon of salt to the water.  While the pasta is cooking, pour olive oil in a small frying pan. Add crushed garlic and cook on medium flame  till garlic is slightly brown. Turn the garlic over and remove pan from the heat.

Just before pasta is ready, take about a cup of the pasta water and add it to the garlic and oil. This will add some moisture to the dish.

Drain the pasta, put the drained pasta back in the pot and add the garlic and oil. Mix well.

Serve this with the red pepper flakes and plenty of grated cheese.

Posted in Pasta | Tagged , , , , | 1 Comment

Italian Baked "Fried" Chicken

Posted on April 22, 2010 by Peter Bocchieri

When A Prank Goes Wrong

Have you ever been a pawn in a prank that went terribly wrong? I was.  And it was my father that put me up to it. But I thought it went just great!

In front of my house on 77 Street, minus the rose bushes.

We lived in a row house on 77th Street in Brooklyn, between 15th and 16th Avenue. My grandparents resided on the top floor and my family occupied the first floor. At the front of the house was a closed in porch, with windows on all three walls that faced a garden just under the front windows. Just above our porch was my grandparent’s porch, but their porch was outside. It had a wrought iron fence that enclosed it and my grandmother would lean over the fence talking to the neighbors, or watching me as I left the house to ask where I was going. They had a great swing chair towards the back that I used to spend countless hours sitting on and enjoying the views of the street below.

My grandfather was watering the roses that he planted in the front garden with the garden hose. My father was watching him from inside our porch, and had a good view of what my grandfather was doing. My father  decided to have a little fun with my grandfather that day. He called me in and showed me through the front window that my grandfather was watering the roses. My father said, “go upstairs on grandpa’s porch and sprinkle a little water on grandpa. He will never know where it was coming from. Go ahead!”

I thought it was a great idea! Don’t ask me what got into my father’s head that prompted him to annoy his father-in-law. That was just my father. So I ran upstairs to my grandparent’s apartment. My grandmother was in the back room working on her sewing machine. I opened up the cupboard and took out this huge spaghetti pot. I lifted it into the sink and filled it up. It must have held at least 2 gallons of water.

I carried the pot to the porch and had to put it down to open the door. I’m sure as I walked out on the porch my father heard my footsteps from below and anticipated with glee the events that were about to unfold. If he only knew.

I hoisted the heavy pot of water to the top of the railing. I was about 10 years old  so the railing came just about up to my chest. I lined up my aim and let her go.

What my father saw from below was a deluge of water cascading from above landing directly on by grandfather’s head. I’m sure he bust a gut and at the same time knew that he was in deep. The full force of the water landed on my grandfather and the Stetson hat he was wearing flopped down over his ears heavy with water. After getting over the initial shock, my grandfather looked upwards and saw me on the porch with the empty pot in my hands and turned the hose on me as he shouted;  “PEEETA! (SOME UNINTELLIGIBLE ITALIAN WORDS, FOLLOWED BY MORE UNINTELLIGIBLE ITALIAN WORDS) WHATSA DA MATTER WITH YOU!”

The first words out of my mouth were, “DADDY TOLD ME TO DO IT !” The next words out of my grandfather’s mouth was “SAL!!!!”   My grandfather put down the hose and clambered up the front steps to get into our apartment. My father opened the door and took a handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to my grandfather, being the good son-in-law that he was. “What happened Pop?”, my father said as he was planning on disavowing anything I would say from this point on.

My grandmother got up from her sewing machine to see what all the commotion  was. I quickly passed her as she was walking towards the steps in the hallway that lead to the front door. My father was trying to dry off my grandfather as I came running down the steps and just stopped short of my grandfather’s size 10 boots as they came swinging around to give me a kick. My father gave me a look like he was going to kill me.

My grandfather was angry at me….my father was angry at me…my grandfather was angry at my father…and my mother was angry at both of us.

As my grandfather walked up the stairs to change his wet clothes he was still yelling at me and my father. My father looked at me and said,”I told you a little water!!!!” My mother went upstairs to try to calm my grandfather down.

As the yelling faded into the back rooms my father told me to get out of here, and then just shook his head and laughed.

Here is a quick dish my mother used to make in no time. Yes, even my mother would cut corners from time to time in order  to prepare a quick meal. I call this “Chicken cutlet on the bone”. She would use the same ingredients that she made veal cutlets or chicken cutlets with, only using chicken pieces.  It’s quick, simple and if you are trying to stay away from fried foods, a bit healthier. Four tablespoons of oil spread between an entire chicken is almost cooking fat-free, in my house.

While the chicken is baking you can prepare a side salad or vegetable to go along with the dish.

One night my mother switched plain bread crumbs with corn flake crumbs and made this same dish. Delicious!  The corn flake crumbs add a little sweetness to the chicken. As my mother got older she stayed away from fried foods, which meant we all did. Some things can be baked instead of frying. Others just don’t work as well. This dish does just fine baked.

I hope you try it and enjoy it.

  • 1 whole chicken, cut up or  4 legs and 4 thighs
  • 2 cups plain bread crumbs
  • 3/4 cup Romano grated cheese
  • 1 teaspoon garlic powder
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt
  • 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
  • 3 tablespoons flat leaf parsley, chopped or two teaspoons dried
  • 2 large eggs, beaten
  • 4 tablespoons olive oil

Preheat oven to 375

Soak chicken in salted water for 10-15 minutes. Rinse and dry well.

Pour 4 tablespoons of olive oil in baking pan to coat the bottom of the pan

Combine in a bowl bread crumbs, grated cheese, garlic powder, salt, pepper and parsley and mix well.

Have your assembly line set up: Bowl with beaten egg , seasoned with salt and pepper, and dish with bread crumbs. Dip  each piece of chicken in egg , shake off excess then dip it in the bread crumb mixture. Be sure the entire piece is coated in bread crumbs. Place each piece of chicken skin side down in oiled pan. Repeat till all the chicken is done.

Turn each piece over in the pan so  the chicken is now skin side up. If the top of the chicken is too dry you can either use olive oil cooking spray to coat or dribble some olive oil on.

Place in the center of the oven for 1 hour or until chicken is crisp and done.

Posted in Chicken | Tagged , , | 6 Comments

Pasta con Ricotta – Linguini & Ricotta Cheese

Posted on April 21, 2010 by Peter Bocchieri

Beautiful Vizzini

At 60 km from Catania in the Hyblaean Mountains, on the most northwesterly slopes of Monte Lauro, Vizzini rises on the spot of ancient Bidis, a Roman city mentioned by Pliny and Cicero. In the Middle Ages the population lived around a now non-existant castle, as a fiefdom of various lords, and was long under the influence of the Arab domination. The writer Giovanni Verga used Vizzini as the setting for his “Cavalleria Rusticana” and “Mastro Don Gesualdo”. My grandfather tells me he is a distant cousin to Giovanni Verga.

This is the town my grandfather Pietro Verga was from.

When I went to visit Vizzini in 1969 I fell in love with its antiquity. The streets were narrow and winding and were paved with wide bricks  made of the ever abundant lava rock from the nearby Mount Etna. Chickens and live stock roamed in the streets and men still used mules to carry their heavy loads to and from the fields.  Women were balancing baskets of laundry and dry goods on their heads, all dressed in black. I felt like I had stepped back in time. I saw people drying tomatoes outside their balcony window, now these were real “sun-dried” tomatoes.

We arrived  in Vizzini by bus from Catania with my brother Richard, Aunt Angie and Uncle Benny. My aunt and uncle met us in Sicily. They were spending the summer there and had a rare opportunity to take their nephews on a wirl wind tour of the country they loved so much. My Uncle Benny was so proud of his home town of Riposto, which was a small fishing village on the Ionian Sea not that far from Vizzini.  He and my grandfather would argue constantly during our holiday get togethers about who’s town was more beautilful, my uncle’s, who’s picturesque village was by the sea or my grandfather’s, who’s town was perched on a mountain with beautiful mountain ranges surrounding it. My uncle had my undivided attention  while we were in Vizzini and I could see him campaign for his town over my grandfathers. He would say, “see the chickens in the street?”  I would save the quips he made about my grandfather’s town and be sure my grandfather would hear about it when I got home. That would make great fodder at the next family get together.

I recall that Christmas Eve we were all together in the basement of my family’s home and had just finished eating. I didn’t want to ruin anyones dinner, after all, it was Christmas. As my grandfather pushed back from the table exposing his full belly, I made the comment, “You know grandpa, Uncle Benny’s town was really nice. And I didn’t see any chickens there”.

That is all it took.  I gave my Uncle Benny an opening. He immediately started with,”you see, your own grandson liked my town better”. Well, the fireworks started. I know, how can I do that to my grandfather. You have to understand, there is nothing more entertaining than watching two Italian men arguing over anything. Their hands become an instrument of expression, flailing in all directions. And the rat-tat-tat of the Sicilian dialect is melodic.  Then my grandfather looked at me with fire in his eyes, “Stupido! Watsa da matta wit you? You craazy!” I could see the glee in my Uncle Benny’s eyes as he looked at me and winked, and then turned to my grandfather, pushing him on the shoulder, saying, “you see, you see!” My grandfather would throw his hands up in the air with a twist of the wrist which motioned, “get out of here”.

At that point my aunts would just shake their heads and say, “stop it already! You two are acting like school children. You both came here to America to get away from that place. There was nothing there! If it was so beautiful and wonderful what did you come to America for!”

It was right out of the scene of West Side Story when Bernardo and Anita were bantering  each other on the rooftop  to the song “I want to be in America”. But my aunts were right. Well, at least half way. America was their country. And both my grandfather and my uncle loved this country. But Italy will always be their home.

When I first saw my grandmother make this dish I thought something was wrong.  How come the sauce isn’t red?  “Pasta con ricotta”, she said. “You wanta some? Here, mangia!”.  She placed another plate on the table next to my grandfather’s. My grandfather was amused with my reaction. As my grandmother lifted the linguini out of the bowl and on my plate my grandfather said, “Mmm, delicious! You like”.

Whenever I finished dinner with my family I would head upstairs to my grandparent’s apartment to see what grandma was cooking.  Nine out of ten times I joined them. The full flight of steps that led up to their door were wooden and creaky, but the door was never locked.  As I opened the door the  round kitchen table was just on the other side of it. As soon as I entered I could usually tell what she was preparing by the aroma. Except that day.

I watched as my grandfather gathered the linguini between his fork and spoon, using the spoon as a pivot to twirl the pasta on his fork. I could only guess how much he was enjoying it. So I dug in. It was different, but I liked it. “You see!, I told you you like”, my grandfather said. “You wanna some ginger ale?” My grandmother always had a bottle of Hammer ginger ale on the table. My grandfather would reach over and uncork his bottle of red wine and once my grandmother filled my glass with ginger ale he would add a splash of wine to it. Just to add color to it, as he would say. I had a new favorite dish my grandmother made…pasta con ricotta.

This is one of the more simple dishes to prepare. Not many ingredients and ready in 10-15 minutes. Here’s how to prepare it:

Pasta Con Ricotta

  • 15 oz. Whole Milk Ricotta Cheese
  • 1 cup pasta water
  • 1/2 Teaspoon salt, more to taste
  • 1 cup Pecorino Romano grated cheese
  • 1 lb. Linguini  or Fettuccine Pasta
  • 2 Tablespoons finely chopped parsley or more to taste
  • Freshly ground pepper to taste

Mix ricotta cheese , 1 cup of Pecorino Romano, 1/2 tsp of salt, freshly ground black pepper and fresh chopped parsley. Blend well. Put aside.

Bring 5 qt. water to a rapid boil. Add  1 tablespoon of salt to pasta water.

Add pasta and stir and return to rapid boil. Cook uncovered, stirring occasionally. Pasta should be done in about 9 minutes for firm. Before you drain the pasta, reserve a cup of the water and pour it into the ricotta mixture. Mix well.

Drain the  pasta. Pour the cheese mixture into the pasta pot and put it back on the stove on a very low flame. Add the pasta to the pot and mix well to blend. Heat just till the ricotta mixture is heated through.

Add Parsley, some more grated cheese and serve.

Posted in Pasta | Tagged , , , , | 7 Comments

Orange Salad

Posted on April 19, 2010 by Peter Bocchieri

This dish is one of those “heavenly unions”. In this case, an unusual combination of ingredients that go very well together. I guess if you really think about it…olive oil and Italian bread go great with just about everything! In Italy, I have eaten Italian bread with Granita, which is a slushy lemon ice. I guess if I were ever stranded on an island I would want a tin of olive oil and endless loafs of Italian bread as my companion.


This light flavorful dish can be eaten at any time. My grandfather would usually make it when the California Navel oranges were at their peak of flavor. This would be a good snack for Sunday Supper, at around 8pm. My cousin Ralph remembers eating this for a quick lunch when he was a child. Being we would have our large Sunday meal around 2pm, this little snack would take you through the evening when you got hungry. I have seen this dish in some trendy Italian Restaurants in Manhattan prepared with onions and nuts and a whole host of ingredients. I’m sure there are many versions of this. Keep it simple. That is how it was intended. Come to think of it, I remember my cousin Concetta making this salad for me when I was visiting her in California. I believe she added red onion and other ingredients. Connie, it was delicious!! But this is the way I remember Grandma making it for me.
  • 1 large navel orange
  • Extra Virgin Olive oil, about 1 Tablespoon
  • Black Pepper
  • Crusty Italian bread for dipping
Cut the skin off the orange and cut the segments into bite size pieces. Make sure all the juice is reserved in the bowl with the orange pieces. Drizzle some olive oil over the oranges and sprinkle with plenty of fresh cracked black pepper. Mash the oranges a bit with the back of your fork to release some of their juices.
Dig in!
It’s amazing how great this taste with crisp Italian bread dipped in the juice and eaten with the orange.
Posted in Fruit | Tagged , , | 6 Comments

Mpanata Ragusana – Filling #1

Posted on April 17, 2010 by Peter Bocchieri

Time Honored Pies

This dish is a specialty from my father’s town of Ragusa, Sicily.  Ragusa is close to the southern most point of Sicily. The origins of Ragusa can be traced back to the 2nd century BC. Over the century’s Ragusa has been occupied by the Greeks, Carthaginians, the Arabs in 848 AD and in the 11th century by the Normans. That might be the reason my brother Richard and I have blue eyes.

Ragusa Ibla

Today, Ragusa bustles with light Industry, Agriculture (horticulture, olives), farming and small oil fields. I can remember watching family movies of my father’s visit to his home town, posing in front of the oil rigs with his mother and father and cousins. When I went to visit his town in 1969 I could remember beautiful parks and baroque style buildings lining the streets. My Aunt Angie and Uncle Benny, who was with us on that trip, could not remember the street my father’s house was on. So we asked a person just walking by if he knew where the “family Bocchieri” had lived. Can you imagine doing that in any town around here? He didn’t know but said he would bring us to a person that did. We walked a few blocks away and the gentleman yelled up to a second story window. A few seconds later this sweet old woman came to the window and was posed the question. She thought for a few seconds and then her hands went wild in the air and she knew exactly where the “family Bocchieri” had lived. I thought that was truly amazing.

Mpanata is a pie made with many fillings. Mpanata means, “between the bread”. This style of flatbread or Focacce dates back to the Moors occupying Sicily.  We would always make these pies for Christmas and Easter holiday dinners, among other things. Some of the fillings included lamb, onions and red wine for Easter – broccoli rabe, garlic and oil, sweet sausage and caciocavallo cheese (another specialty cheese originating from Ragusa) – spinach, capers, breadcrumbs, currants and walnuts – and my favorite, broccoli, black olives, garlic and olive oil and caciocavallo cheese.

I could remember  my Aunts  and grandmother in the kitchen with their aprons on and flour dusted all over the table as they worked as a team, one rolling out the dough as the other would be preparing the saute broccoli  or spinach. It made Christmas a special time. My Aunt Mary and Aunt Angie would bring platters of this mpanata to the table for Christmas Eve. There was nothing better than waking up the next morning and having it for breakfast,along with the Scacciata and home-made Sfinciuni (Sicilian onion pizza). They were even great right out of the ice box without warming them up.

All my aunts and uncles and grandparents are  gone now and I seem to be the only one in the family that carries on  cooking these traditional family dishes.  I feel like by sharing these recipes with you, in a way, their legacy lives on.

My parents are both 92  and are the last of their generation from my family. Till this day when I visit my mother in Long Island she  throws me a hint that she wants me to make her mpanata . Her diet is extremely limited,  but this she can eat. And how I enjoy watching her dine on a simple food that links her with her past. I’m sure it brings back memories for her of her mother and grandmother. How can I let this tradition fade?

Here is filling #1 in a series of mpanata recipes that I have.

For the Dough

2 lb. bread flour

2 envelopes of dry yeast

3 tablespoons of olive oil

1/2 teaspoon sugar

1/2 teaspoon of salt

Or buy 2 lb. of bread dough in your local Italian bakery.

The Dough – Making the starter


In a bowl mix ½ cup of warm water and the yeast. Add the sugar, ½ cup of flour, mix until it is well blended and a soft dough is obtained. The starter should be just a little thicker than pancake batter.  Set aside covered in a warm place.

After 45 minutes to 1 hour combine risen dough with 1  3/4 cup of warm water in a large mixing bowl. Add half of   remaining flour  , the oil, 1/2 teaspoon of salt and knead, adding the rest of the flour to get an  elastic dough, like bread dough. If you are using a stand mixer, knead the dough with the dough hook for about 3 minutes. Add remaining flour a little at a time until the dough rides up the  hook.  Take the dough out of the mixer and hand knead for at least 5 minutes.

Dough should be smooth, elastic and slightly tacky.  Make a ball,  cover it in a large lightly oiled bowl and put in a warm place until it almost doubles in size, 1 to 2 hours.

For the Filling

2 bunches broccoli rabe, remove the tough stems, cut 1 inch from bottom and rinse

3 tablespoons olive oil

2 garlic cloves, chopped

1 lb.  Italian sausages, casing removed if link sausage. If using the thin spiral sausage, cut into 1 inch pieces.

¼ lb caciocavallo cheese* cut in ¼ inch cubes

salt and pepper

In a 4 qt. saucepan, bring to a boil about 2 quarts of water with ½ tablespoon of salt. Put broccoli rabe in the boiling water to blanch them just  long enough for the water to return to a boil. Drain and set aside.


In a 4 qt. saucepan, over a medium flame heat 3 tablespoons of olive oil and the garlic. Just when the garlic starts to sizzle add broccoli rabe and sauté for 10 minutes, until tender. Add  about 1/2 teaspoon salt and  1/4 teaspoon pepper to your taste. Don’t forget, the sausage and cheese add salt to this dish, so don’t over salt.
Remove from flame and using a slotted spoon place in a colander to drain and set aside.


Using the oil and liquid left from the broccoli cook the sausages meat over a medium heat for 15 minutes, stirring occasionally. Remove from flame using a slotted spoon place in the colander with the broccoli rabe, to drain.


In a bowl mix the sausages and the broccoli rabe, until they are blended well. Add the cubed cheese last when you are filling the pie if the broccoli mixture is too warm.

Preheat oven to 375.

When dough is ready, on a lightly floured surface, split it in 2 pieces. Briefly knead each piece, roll it into a round shape and place in a greased pan.

Spoon the filling over it; add the cubed cheese, making sure to leave the edges free of filling.


Knead the other piece of dough and roll it into a round shape. Moisten the edge of the mpanata with water, place on the top of the dough with the filling. Seal it well; pinching all around to make sure it is sealed firmly.
Cut 2 or 3 slits on top to let the vapor to escape.

Place in the 375 oven and cook 15 minutes. Take out and brush with  about 2 tablespoons of olive oil and return to the oven for an extra 15-20 minutes or until golden brown. If the mpanata doesn’t brown after 30 minutes place on a higher level of the oven and check it 5 minutes at a time.

Serve warm.

Caciocavallo Cheese

*Caciocavallo cheese is a soft cheese made in southern Italy. It taste like a mild provolone . You can buy it in anyItalian specialty store. Sorrento’s Pastry shop in East Hanover carries it also. While you’re there you can pick up some bread dough if you don’t want to make your own.

Posted in pizza, Pork, vegetable | Tagged , , , , , | 2 Comments

Quick Marinara

Posted on April 16, 2010 by Peter Bocchieri

When I got home from work today I had no clue what I was going to prepare for dinner. I didn’t have anything defrosted and there were no left overs. So I decided to make pasta. This is a quick marinara sauce my grandmother used to make. The only thing I didn’t have in the house was fresh basil, which is essential to the sauce. Dried basil will have to do.

Every Italian pantry has a stock of these ingredients: pasta, canned peeled tomatoes, garlic. With these essentials you can make a delicious fresh marinara sauce in less than 15 minutes. As long as it takes the water to boil and pasta to cook you can have this great sauce ready. So put that jar of Prego down and learn how to make this sauce. You deserve it.

I tried a new pasta I picked up at Shop Rite the other day. The brand is Pastificio Riscossa, and the type of pasta is Creste di Gallo. It looked interesting, a shape I never had before. Plenty of holes and ridges to hold whatever sauce you put over it. It was pretty good. I recommend it. Of course, any pasta will do for this dish.

Marinara Sauce

1 – 28oz can of Italian peeled tomatoes

2 cloves of garlic, thinly sliced

1/4 cup olive oil

1/2 teaspoon sugar

1/4 – 1/2 teaspoon red pepper flakes

1/2 teaspoon salt + to taste

1/4 teaspoon black pepper

about 6 leaves of fresh basil, torn into pieces or 1/2 teaspoon of dried basil

1 tablespoon butter

1 pound of your favorite pasta

Place a large pot of water, about 5 quarts, on high flame with 1 tablespoon of salt for the pasta.

Pour the olive oil into a large saute pan or sauce pot over medium heat. Add sliced garlic and cook till garlic just starts to turn brown.

Add the can of peeled tomatoes. Fill the tomato can a quarter of the way up with water and pour into the pan.

Mash the tomatoes with a potato masher till you have small chunks. If you don’t have a potato masher just squeeze the tomatoes with your hands into the pot. Stir in the sugar, red pepper flakes, salt, black pepper, and dried basil.  Stir well. If you are using fresh basil don’t add it until the end and add it with the cooked pasta.

Simmer the sauce uncovered for 15 minutes, stirring occasionally.

Just before the pasta is done , add 1 tablespoon of butter to the sauce and stir it in until it melts. This gives the sauce a nice rich flavor.

Drain the cooked pasta well and place it directly in the sauce, mixing well, along with the fresh basil torn into pieces.

Serve the pasta with some grated cheese and a salad and you have a meal in less than 30 minutes. How’s that Rachel Ray!

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Grandma’s Chicken

Posted on April 16, 2010 by Peter Bocchieri

Sundays Were Special

Sunday was a special time around our house. We would get up early to go to Mass and if we weren’t planning on visiting relatives we would be looking forward to “Sunday Dinner”. Back then you couldn’t eat before Communion so by the time you got home you were starving. And if you happened to stop off and pick up a loaf of fresh Italian bread from the neighborhood bakery, you better have bought two – one for the walk home and one for the family!

On Sunday my Grandfather Pietro Verga always wore a suit. Complete with tie and vest. And on Sunday he would wear his “special” Sunday hat. I could still see him walking home from church with the Italian Newspaper under one arm and a loaf of bread under the other. When he got home from church he would take off his jacket and hat but never took off his tie or vest. Sunday was a special day. Grandpa would sit in the parlor reading his Sunday paper, Il Progresso,or if it were a nice day, out on the porch. Grandma would be clanking around the kitchen with her pots and pans preparing her Sunday dinner. Dinner for us on Sunday was 2-3pm in the afternoon.

By 11 am or so either my Mother or Grandmother would start making the Sunday Gravy. I could never forget the warm sweet smell of the sauce cooking on the stove top. Chock full of beef, pork, sausage…sometimes meatballs, brocciole, rolled up pig skin or pig’s knuckles. Most Sundays we would have macaroni. On special Sundays we would have ravioli, cavatelli, manicotti. All smothered in that delicious sauce. But I’m getting ahead of myself. I wanted to talk about “Grandma’s Chicken”. That’s what we would call it. My brother and sister and I would stop whatever we were doing to get a piece of that chicken. I think my Grandfather would buy extra, knowing he would have to be sharing it.

Once again, Grandma made something so delicious from such a simple recipe. I believe it was in her technique so I’ll tell you exactly how she did it. Nothing was ever written down, I give you this from memory and experience. My Grandmother cooked this chicken by broiling it. She used to have one of those free-standing broilers, the one that had an electric heating element on top and did nothing but broil food. It wasn’t a toaster oven or rotisserie cooker, it was a broiler. If you don’t have that equipment, don’t worry, the oven broiler works just fine.
Grandma’s Chicken

Chicken Legs and thighs
If you like white meat, by all means use it. But in our household, dark meat ruled!
1 whole lemon
Salt

Soak the chicken in heavily salted water for about 1 hour.

Drain and rinse the chicken in cold running water. Pat dry.

.
Pre-heat the broiler in your oven. Place the chicken skin side down on the broiler pan. Cook the chicken about 3-4 inches from the heat.


After about 10 minutes turn the chicken. Continue cooking for another 10 minutes on the skin side.


Now, turn the chicken once again, skin side down and squeeze the juice from half the lemon on the chicken, sprinkle with salt, cook 10 minutes. Turn the chicken again, skin side up and squeeze more lemon juice on that side, sprinkle with salt, cook about 6 minutes. By now the chicken should be getting nice and golden and the skin crispy. Keep an eye on it.

Once the skin is golden and crispy, turn off the broiler. Give the chicken another squeeze of lemon juice and another sprinkle of salt and let it sit skin side up for at least 15 minutes with the oven door open.


My Grandmother would always serve this with a large lettuce and tomato salad with olive oil and vinegar, and of course, a loaf of Italian bread.
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Marinated BBQ Chicken

Posted on April 13, 2010 by Peter Bocchieri

Italian Cook Out

From time to time my family would break away from the hustle and bustle of Brooklyn city life and would pack us  into the car to take a drive to the “wilds” of Long Island. Back then the Belt Parkway was still drivable when you can go 50 miles without any traffic jams. My Grandfather’s 53 Hudson Wasp barely made it up to 50 MPH so it was also a very slow and pleasant drive. I could remember back then the light posts on the Belt Parkway were wooden and they still had a toll booth that collected a 5 cent toll.

We had family in Long Island, my Aunt Rose and Uncle Aldo Corso and their children, my cousins Gail, Gary, Glenn and Greg (how’s that for creative name giving!) and my Grandmother’s first cousin Zia Eve, or as we called her “TeVeVe”. She made a great Chicken Cacciotori. My Uncle Frank and Aunt Rose St. George (Rose was another popular name in my family) and their children Joseph & Phyllis.

Along that same family line but still living in Brooklyn was my Aunt Francis and Uncle Sal St. George (I think we had at least a dozen relatives named Sal) and their children, my cousins Cammy, Joseph & Phyllis (Phyllis and Joseph seem to be another popular name) We never got together with this side of the family for the major holidays, but would often visit them several times during the year,for the Fourth of July, visits to Jones Beach and for BBQ’s at Valley Stream State Park.

We would get to Valley Stream Park early in the morning. The caravan of cars would pull into the parking lot and every able body would lug the trays of food and coolers to the picnic tables. I could remember my grandfather would wear his special cool Fedora straw hat. He was the most important attendee at this cook out because, being the butcher of the family, he was in charge of the meats and sausage. And oh the sausage! He made a delicious sausage with cheese and parsley and sun-dried tomatoes. They came wrapped in brown butcher paper and when opened were one continuous 6 foot link of heavenly salsiccia! My aunts would start the pot of coffee and within minutes you would start to smell the bacon and eggs frying on the BBQ pit. This was an all day affair. They would have the lawn chairs all set up in a circle and the picnic tables covered in linen table cloths.

After breakfast all the cousins would have a game of football in the nearby clearing and my cousin Joseph, being the oldest male cousin, would always end up at the bottom of the tackle pile-up with my brother Richard jumping on him a few extra times just for good measure. My cousin Gail and I were about the same age, 4 or 5 years old, when we would put on a show for everyone dancing on top of the picnic tables.

And then came the serious grilling. My Uncle Frank would lift up the sausage and it looked like he was decorating a tree with garland. He would hold it up to show everyone, as he bowed his head towards my grandfather in appreciation, and then placed it as it sizzled on top of the fire pit. The smell of the olive oil and vinegar that marinated the chicken with the garlic and basilico would hit you as they cooked on the coal fire when the wind turned in your direction. You can never get that smell out of your head ever again. Till this day when I grill chicken in the back yard in that marinade it brings me back to the cook outs we had at Valley Stream State Park.

The  Italian bread came out as the bowls of cold string bean, red onion and potato salad got passed around with the broccoli rabe, roasted peppers, cheeses, olives, salami and salad. My Grandfather would take out the jug of wine that he carefully hid under the picnic table and filled all the glasses. He would give me a thimble full of wine and filled the rest of the glass with ginger ale. Till this day I still enjoy that drink!

After the feast my Grandfather would take his lounge chair and find a shady spot under a tree to take a nap. He would tilt his straw hat over his eyes and drift off. Now, my Grandfather was the “patriarch” of the family. He earned that title because he was the first one in this family to come to this country from his town Vizzini,  Sicily. His “nephew” my Uncle Frank was the prankster of the group and sooner or later Uncle Frank would do something to get my Grandfather riled up. One time while my Grandfather was sleeping my Uncle Frank exploded a cherry bomb under his hammock. All hell broke loose after that!!!! We all knew it was coming, we just never knew when. My cousin Johnny, who was also my Grandparent’s nephew, had a knack of upsetting my Grandfather also from time to time. That’s putting it mildly. Johnny had family pranks down to a science. If there was a college of pranks, Johnny was the Dean. But I’ll save his stories for another time.

Let’s get cooking.

Marinated BBQ Chicken

  • 1 whole fryer chicken cut into quarters
  • 1/4 cup olive oil
  • 1/4 cup red wine vinegar
  • 1 teaspoon of dried oregano
  • 3 tablespoons of fresh basil, chopped  or 1 teaspoon dried basil
  • 1 teaspoon of crushed red pepper flakes
  • 1 teaspoon of sugar
  • 2 cloves of garlic, finely chopped
  • 2 teaspoons of salt
  • 1/4  teaspoon of black pepper

Mix all the marinade ingredients together in a small bowl. Wash and dry the chicken well and place the chicken in a zip lock bag. Pour the marinade into the bag, press out the air and seal.  Shake up the bag and move the chicken pieces around to distribute the marinade evenly. Allow the chicken to marinade in the refrigerator for at least 3 hours, turning the bag  each hour.

In the mean time light the coals in your BBQ and allow them to get white-hot. If you have a damper on your grill make sure it is at the lowest setting so the chicken does not burn. For those with gas grills, cook the chicken on low.

Place the chicken on the grill and discard the rest of the marinade. Chicken will be cooked in about 40 minutes.

 
 

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Sicilian Tuna Salad

Posted on April 12, 2010 by Peter Bocchieri

Just A Greasy Brown Bag

I always wanted one of those themed lunch boxes I saw my classmates have while in elementary school. Some were adorned with The Lone Ranger, Superman, Yogi Bear. They would open them up on the lunch room table and take out their neatly packaged sandwiches wrapped in wax paper or foil. The thermos fit right next to the package of Ring Dings or pieces of fruit their mother’s packed.

And their sandwiches were so simple and neat. Two slices of “American”  bread, as we used to call it, some with the crust cut off, holding a couple of slices of luncheon meat or peanut butter and jelly.

When I arrived at the lunch room table my friends were always eager to see what gargantuan  mass of a sandwich my mother packed in my oil stained brown paper bag.  I would pull out what looked like a half loaf of Italian bread wrapped in foil. As I unwrapped the super sub it was usually overloaded with last nights leftovers. Meatballs and tomato sauce, sausage and peppers, peppers and eggs, eggplant or veal Parmigiano, you know, the usual stuff us Italian kids ate for lunch. And when I took a bite into my massive sandwich the filling would land with a plop on the foil underneath. As I was eating I would glance over to my friend sitting next to me and he had his sandwich in one hand while poking his buddy with the other, just to annoy him. I needed both my hands to eat my sandwich, and usually a roll of paper towels to clean up afterwards.

One time while shopping with my mother I had asked her to buy me spiced ham for lunch because I saw my friend Junior eating that the other day. My mother ignored me and went on ordering a pound of salami and mortadella. If I did get a cold cut sandwich it was usually loaded with Italian cold cuts and adorned with marinated eggplant or olive salad or roasted peppers. Hence the oil stain. I’m not complaining, mind you, I just was like every other kid and wanted something I couldn’t have.

But, what goes around comes around. When my son Joseph was around 6 years old and we were food shopping he asked me to buy a can of Chef Boyardee Spaghettios. I ignored him.

This is a dish I remember my Grandfather actually making himself. He used to have it for lunch on a fresh Italian Roll. My mom packed this for my lunch plenty of times.

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  • 1 can  Albacore tuna packed in olive oil
  • Juice of 1/2 lemon
  • 1/8  lemon peel
  • 1/8 inch slice of red onion, chopped
  • 1-2 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil
  • fresh ground black pepper

Drain the tuna and flake in a bowl.

Squeeze the juice of half a lemon on the tuna. Cut off about 1/8 of the lemon peel and slice the peel into thin strips, then cut the strips crosswise into tiny bits.  Add the peel to the tuna. (You don’t just want lemon zest, you want the entire peel)  Add  chopped onion. Drizzle with about 1 tablespoons of extra virgin olive oil. Add pepper. Mix well.

This is a nice change from tuna and mayo. The little bits of lemon peel add a burst of lemony flavor to the sandwich.

Posted in Antipasto, Seafood | Tagged , | 5 Comments