Cooking with My Sisters Part 2

The arrabbiata sauce came onto the scene later, after the older kids had left for college, and still later came the white sauces that our brothers perfected. (We don't include those here because we never really ate them growing up.) But another sauce that Grandmom Trigiani liked to make was her Tuna and Tomato Sauce, a variation that embellishes the shway-shway sauce. She generally made this on Fridays during Lent.

Grandmom Trigiani's Tuna and Tomato (Tonno e Pomodoro) Sauce SERVES 8.

4 tablespoons olive oil 12 to 13 ounces albacore tuna (look for Italian brands, packed in olive oil) 7 cups crushed tomatoes (two 28-ounce cans) 6 sprigs of fresh Italian parsley, finely chopped 2 teaspoons chopped fresh basil Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste 2 pounds pasta, cooked Heat the oil in a large saucepan over medium heat. Add the tuna, including the oil in which it was packed, and stir until it's just heated through. Add the tomatoes, parsley, basil, salt, and pepper. Bring to a boil and then reduce immediately to a simmer. Cook uncovered for about 45 minutes. Toss with the pasta and serve immediately.

Another sauce we liked to make, particularly when we had company coming, was a warm olive oil and garlic dressing. It's especially good on freshly made pasta and more delicate noodles like spaghettini or capellini. Grandpop Trigiani loved to toss pasta with oil and garlic. This was also perfect for a quick lunch, with some cold chicken or pork chops on the side.

Oil and Garlic Sauce SERVES 8.

6 tablespoons olive oil 12 garlic cloves, minced 1 cup chicken broth, fat removed 2 teaspoons grated lemon zest 6 tablespoons fresh lemon juice 6 tablespoons chopped onion 2 teaspoons chopped Italian parsley 2 teaspoons salt teaspoon freshly ground black pepper 5 tablespoons grated Parmigiano-Reggiano Heat the oil in a large skillet over low heat. When it's hot, add the garlic and cook for about 5 minutes. Add the broth, lemon zest, lemon juice, onions, parsley, salt, and pepper and cook for about a minute.

Toss over the pasta and sprinkle with the Parmigiano. Serve.

A Tip from Pia: If you're having a large buffet-style dinner party, or even a c.o.c.ktail party, you can still serve pasta-just avoid the long versions that are difficult to eat.

A Tip from Mary: When it comes to herbs and seasonings, I use fresh. The dried herbs are often all you can find in some parts of the country, but if possible, always go for a few cloves of fresh garlic, shred some basil, chop some oregano, and use sea salt.

Grandmom Trigiani's veal sauce made use of a succulent slow-cooked veal roast and its broth. The sauce was perfect for the evenings you wanted to serve something elegant and spend time with guests outside of the kitchen.

Grandmom Trigiani's Veal Sauce SERVES 6.

One 2-pound veal roast with bone in 3 large onions, sliced cup chopped Italian parsley 3 tablespoons flour 2 quarts water Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste In a deep saucepot, brown the veal well. Add the onions and parsley on top, cover, and cook for 1 hour. Remove the meat to a plate. Add the flour and water to the pot and stir to thicken. Season with salt and pepper. Return the meat to the pot and cook for an additional hour.

A Tip from Toni: Grandmom liked to serve this on ziti. It also works well on a wide noodle such as pappardelle.

The Bonicellis followed the more traditional style of dining: In Italy, pasta is served after a light savory course (antipasto) and before a secondo piatto (second course) of meat and vegetables, then the insalata (salad). The Trigianis, on the other hand, made pasta the center of the meal, which is why we think Grandmom's tomato sauce became the basis of our family's cooking traditions. Yet under Mom's guidance, our pasta dinners came to represent the best in the blending of our forebears' regions: spicy, upfront, warm, and generous.

CHAPTER THREE.

Family Dinners Growing up, it often seemed that just as we were finis.h.i.+ng one meal we were preparing for the next. Cooking for such a large family almost made the day-to-day process a marathon. To keep it as efficient as possible, Mom made things simply. We did not eat Italian food every evening, but the way we ate was definitely all'italiana, or Italian style: always seasoned, always balanced, always hearty, and more than enough to go around. Abbondanza!

One of Mom's basic rules for managing the marathon was keeping the dinner hour, and our partic.i.p.ation in it, immutable. We were rarely excused from dinner to attend an event, whether it was academic, sports, theater, or music. (And a kid could walk from one end of Big Stone Gap to the other, so there was no excuse to be late.) Dinner started when it was time to call Dad to the table, usually in the vicinity of six P.M.

Another advantage of having a standard dinner hour was the guaranteed daily opportunity for Dad to reinforce our values, especially a respect for family and cultural traditions. The Big Stone Gap environment was about as non-Italian as you could get, so sustaining la moda italiana was an ongoing challenge. For those of us who remembered Pennsylvania, it was as if we had left the earth we knew.

* Mary says: "I swear that I did not know we were Italian until we moved to Virginia."

Our entire world had been populated by people who had names like ours and who looked like us. (And not because we were all related, either!) Dad's effort to keep us attached to his family's tradition was deliberate and up-front. Even our phone calls with friends provided a lab for Italianizing. If he detected any hint of a phony southern drawl, he would remind us that the way people talked in our new town was beautiful, but it wasn't us.

* Toni says: "Adri had the Virginia drawl down pat. She could turn it on and off just like a faucet."

In Big Stone Gap, the closest thing we had to Italy was Italy Bottom, where the few Italian immigrant coal miners had once lived. Most of them had gone back to the old country as soon as they saved up enough to return. If they had left any descendants, their names had been anglicized. All of this just encouraged Dad to tell more stories. One of his favorites was about Great-Grandpop Antonio Trigiani, who had a thing about children singing at the table. In his half-English, half-Pugliese dialect, Dad's grandfather would announce, "Chi che canta al tavola e piu stupide di quello che fum' a let'," or something like that. Translated: "He who sings at the table is more stupid than the one who smokes in bed."

* Pia says: "For the record, we never sang at the table or smoked in bed."

For Mom, the dinner hour provided a platform for enforcing rules of etiquette. Family meals were workshops designed to enhance our manners and demeanor. On report card night, while Dad concentrated on the main subjects, Mom focused on what the Big Stone Gap schools called "deportment." If anyone got less than an A, we knew we'd hear from Mom that the easiest subject in which to earn an A was deportment.

The activity around the table wasn't always of an edifying nature, however. For example, Dad loved to turn his eyelids inside out while everyone else was eating. And he enjoyed creating diversions that enabled him to pinch his favorite items from a nearby plate, usually Carlo's or Michael's (they always sat next to him), whereupon Dad would always swear that he was just "testing to make sure it was fit for human consumption." It was years before we understood this meant that he just wanted more dessert.

Getting ready to leave for a field trip to the Philadelphia Zoo. From left: Pia, Mary, Adri, and Toni; Mom carries baby Michael.

Mom's sense of propriety even extended to the preparation of baby food. She never fed a child a cold bottle. How she managed this on trips, before microwaves, especially with so many little ones at once, I'll never know. But a warm formula for babies and a balanced diet for adults was the only way.

We were lucky, because if it were up to Dad to outline the menus, we would have had beef or pasta every night, with a fantastic dessert to follow. In fact, we generally supported his choices, and to this day we remain eternally grateful that he declared a moratorium on liver and stuffed cabbage. (You will find neither in this book. He didn't like eggplant, either, so we have yet to develop any eggplant-based recipes.) Besides the salad and a meat or main course, Mom always made sure we had a good vegetable side dish. So while she reduced the multiple-course format of traditional Italian dining, Mom covered the essentials. It's definitely more relaxing, and exotic, to eat over a span of three hours in a leisurely fas.h.i.+on (the way many Italians still do), but we were all-American in the efficiency department. We had to be, with so many people to manage and so much to get done.

Now that we have children of our own, we marvel at how Mom not only produced seven children in nine years, but did it in such an organized fas.h.i.+on. The fact that we had a nice dinner every night as kids had a huge influence on our ability to put on a lovely dinner ourselves. And, no surprise, this extends to the setting of the table. We have a running argument among the sisters over who got the job most consistently. Whoever did it, the job description included correct placement of napkin, flatware, and gla.s.sware around the plate.

Mom's emphasis on good manners made us receptive to watching and learning from others. It also gave us the basics for entertaining, something our parents did very well. Many of the dishes we grew up eating in the kitchen are now served in our dining rooms for dinner parties. Not because they're fancy but because they taste good.

* Mary says: "I like to eat out, so I can always go out to a fabu restaurant to eat delicious food styled beautifully on the plate. When I'm making dinner, I like to focus on preparing meals that I can cook with friends and that will look great without being pretentious."

* Checka says: "Yeah, but Mary puts a lot of weird stuff in her dishes-like mandarin oranges in turkey stuffing and peas in tuna ca.s.serole. P.U."

Two easy-to-prepare-and-good-looking-on-the-plate meals are the Cotoletta alla Milanese and Dad's Veal Cutlets with Mushrooms. Which leads me to Mom's first cousin, Mafalda, who lives in Bergamo, Italy, and often travels north into the Alps to spend time in the family's ancestral village of Schilpario. Mafalda is a world-cla.s.s cook whose meals I would put up against any trained chef's. This veal cutlet recipe is hers.

Mafalda's Cotoletta alla Milanese (Breaded Veal Cutlet) SERVES 4.

4 pieces of veal cut in scaloppine style, weighing about pound each 2 eggs, beaten Dried bread crumbs, using plain bread cup b.u.t.ter Salt and freshly ground black pepper 1 lemon, quartered Flatten the veal with a mallet. Dip each piece into the beaten egg and then the bread crumbs.

Melt the b.u.t.ter in a large skillet and fry the veal for 2 to 3 minutes on each side until the pieces brown.

Move to a warmed serving dish and season with salt and pepper. Serve with the lemon wedges.

Dad's Veal Cutlets with Mushrooms SERVES 4 TO 6.

6 veal cutlets 4 teaspoons flour cup olive oil 6 tablespoons b.u.t.ter cup half-and-half cup dry white vermouth or Marsala wine 2 garlic cloves, minced 2 tablespoons capers, drained 4 cups fresh mushrooms, sliced Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste Preheat the oven to 300 degrees.

Pound the cutlets until thin, then dust with the flour. In a large skillet, heat the olive oil. When the oil is hot, brown the cutlets on either side. Remove and place the cutlets in an 8 10-inch gla.s.s dish.

Drain the oil from the skillet, then stir in the b.u.t.ter, half-and-half, and white vermouth until well blended. Add the garlic, capers, and fresh mushrooms and cook until the mushrooms soften. Season with salt and pepper. Pour the mixture over the browned cutlets in the dish and bake for 40 minutes, or until bubbly. Delicious over rice.

Christmas dinner in Big Stone Gap, early nineties. From left: Michael, Adri, Mary, Carlo, the great Zackie Wakin, Dad, David Isaac, Checka, and Pia. Avoid Pia's seat, as it is closest to the kitchen and the occupant becomes the waitress.

Another of Mom's practices that we've all absorbed is making sure there is more than enough food to go around. Mom always says that if you leave her house hungry, it's your own fault. And that is a key admonition, uttered out loud or not, in most Italian-American homes. The worst blunder a host or hostess can make is to appear stingy when it comes to the amount of food provided for dinner guests. That's why we prepare extra portions and servings; you can always freeze the remainder or enjoy the leftovers during the next few days. Besides the tomato sauce, one dish that's easy to make in a large batch is sausage and peppers.

Sausage and Peppers SERVES 8.

3 pounds Italian sausage, mild or hot, cut into large (3- to 4-inch) chunks 8 green peppers, sliced into wide strips 2 large onions, sliced Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste Using a bit of water and just the fat from the sausage itself, cook sausage in a skillet. Just before it begins to brown, add the vegetables and season with the salt and pepper.

Serve with a good, hearty bread and a salad.

When we serve pasta, we like to have meat as a side dish. Two of our favorites are braciole and steak and onions. Braciole are little rolls of meat stuffed with spices and cheese. We made them as another meat for the Basic Tomato Sauce. You will need kitchen twine to tie the braciole.

Braciole (for Simmering in Basic Tomato Sauce) SERVES 68 2 pounds top round steak, inch thick, cut into 4 6-inch slices 2 cups chopped Italian parsley cup chopped basil 1 cup fine Seasoned Bread Crumbs 3 tablespoons minced garlic 1 cup grated Parmigiano-Reggiano Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste cup olive oil Pound the meat to tenderize it and make thin, but avoid making holes.

Blend the parsley and the basil, then spread the mixture on the meat.

Mix the bread crumbs with the garlic and sprinkle that atop the spice mixture on the meat.

Add the cheese and salt and pepper on top of the bread-crumb mixture.

Roll the meat, tuck in the ends, and secure with twine.

Brown the meat in the olive oil over a low temperature, and turn it gently. Transfer the meat to the pot of Basic Tomato Sauce and simmer slowly for 45 to 60 minutes, until the meat is tender. Keep an eye on it, because you don't want the meat to overcook; an hour might be too long on some stoves.

To serve, remove the meat from the pot and place on a cutting board. Remove the twine and let the meat cool for about 5 minutes. Then cut the meat into 2-inch slices, like a jelly roll, and arrange on a platter by itself or with other meats from the pot of sauce.

Dad's Steak and Onions SERVES 4.

2 large sweet onions, diced 6 garlic cloves, peeled and sliced thin pound bacon strips, diced; use pancetta (Italian bacon) if available 6 tablespoons olive oil One 28-ounce can tomato puree 2 cups beef stock 1 pound beef steaks (Dad used chuck, sliced thin) 2 cups fresh white mushrooms, sliced thin One 28-ounce can artichoke hearts, rinsed, drained, and cut into chunks 2 cups red wine Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste In a heavy, deep skillet, saute the onions, garlic, and bacon in the olive oil until translucent. Lower the heat and add the tomato puree thinned with the beef stock. Stir the mixture and let it simmer. Then add the steaks to the skillet and cook over low heat. Add the mushrooms, artichokes, and red wine. Season with salt and pepper. Lower the heat and cook, covered, for 20 minutes, or until the steaks are tender. Terrific with roasted potatoes.

A Tip from Adri: This is a great recipe when you're out of time and company is on the way. The aroma of the sauteing onion, garlic, and bacon makes the guests believe you've been cooking all day!

* Mary says: "The 'meat as a side dish' idea translates well to dinner parties for another reason. If you're serving a meat dish and one guest happens to be a vegetarian, there is enough food to offer that guest a balanced meal without the feeling, on the guest's part, that you've gone out of your way to prepare something extra."

When Mom could get veal, she liked to make a veal roast that Grandma Lucy used to make. This was typical Lombardian fare, in which you have a b.u.t.ter-based broth and vegetables of the season-although Grandma Lucy used olive oil instead of b.u.t.ter.

Grandma Lucy's Veal Roast and Vegetables SERVES 8.

One 4-pound veal roast 15 to 20 small potatoes, peeled and halved 10 to 20 carrots, peeled but left whole 1 pound tiny, whole pearl onions, peeled and left whole pound b.u.t.ter (2 sticks), melted 3 cups chicken broth 2 cups dry white wine (Marsala is good) 3 tablespoons rosemary, chopped Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste Preheat the oven to 375 degrees.

Place the roast in the center of a large, covered roasting pan. Place the vegetables around the roast along the bottom of the pan. Pour the b.u.t.ter, the broth, and then the wine over the entire contents. Sprinkle the rosemary over the contents, and salt and pepper liberally. Bake covered, checking and basting frequently, for 1 hours or until the veal and vegetables are tender.

A Tip from Pia: Make friends with the butcher at your favorite grocery store. Call ahead to order your veal roast, because the right cut of meat is not always available.

A Tip from Checka: You can subst.i.tute a pork or beef roast for the veal, which is easier on the budget!

A Tip from Adri: Order a fresh veal roast that hasn't been prepared for cooking. Ask the butcher to leave the bone in because you'll have a richer flavor. And you'll do better with your own spices.

Another Tip from Checka: You can use baby carrots, which will cook faster. Just add them around halfway through the meat's cooking time.

A Tip from Mom: If a recipe calls for ground pepper, always use fresh black peppercorns. The taste will be tangy but not too exotic or overwhelming.

It was easier to find chicken, which was also much less expensive than veal, so Mom liked to roast chicken frequently in the way she had seen Grandmom Trigiani do it.

* Toni says: "Grandmom Trigiani usually prepared small pieces of dark meat because she believed it was tastier. I agree. Of course, she would rather walk over hot coals than spend a lot of money on chicken, so the fact that dark meat is cheaper was a bonus. Mom served a mix so that everyone could find their preference."

Grandmom Trigiani's Chicken with Rosemary Potatoes SERVES 4 TO 6.

8 pieces of chicken, if using all parts; 6 if using b.r.e.a.s.t.s only Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste cup plus 2 tablespoons olive oil 4 large potatoes, cut into eighths 6 to 8 sprigs of fresh rosemary, chopped Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

Remove the skin and fat from the chicken, then salt and pepper each piece. Heat cup olive oil in a large frying pan and slowly fry the chicken pieces, turning often to prevent burning.

In a ca.s.serole dish, line up the potatoes, drizzle them with 2 tablespoons olive oil, and sprinkle with the rosemary, salt, and pepper. Bake until tender, about 30 minutes, turning frequently to make sure they don't stick.

Turn off the oven and place the chicken in the ca.s.serole dish with the potatoes. Let sit for 10 to 15 minutes. Serve.

Grandmom Trigiani was the queen of chicken recipes. We were used to her stories about how, as a girl on the farm, she and her five brothers and sisters learned to make use of every part of an animal. So, as we ate her delicious chicken, she regaled us with stories of the fine art of neck-wringing-of the chickens, of course. It's amazing that we're not all vegetarians.

Grandmom made one of her favorite chicken dishes, Chicken and Polenta, whenever the local parish priests came for dinner. Polenta became an Italian staple several centuries back, when corn was taken to Italy from the New World. Food historians say that polenta got many an Italian peasant family through the winter. (Grandma Lucy liked to get fresh sausage, boil it, and serve it plain with the polenta-no gravy or sauce.) Polenta sticks to your ribs, that's for sure. And you either love it or you hate it.

Grandmom Trigiani's Chicken and Polenta SERVES 4 TO 6.

THE SAUCE.

3 cups of Basic Tomato Sauce 3 cinnamon sticks or 2 teapoons ground cinnamon Heat the sauce in a large saucepan. Stir in the cinnamon and let the sauce simmer while the chicken is cooking.

THE CHICKEN.

3 tablespoons olive oil 8 chicken pieces, with bone (4 thighs, 4 legs) Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste Drizzle the olive oil in a heated frying pan. Add the chicken and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Slowly cook the chicken; do not allow a crust to form. Cook thoroughly and when finished, add directly to the tomato sauce. Let simmer for a couple of hours.

A Tip from Toni: This recipe really does taste better if you use dark meat. It's fine, though, if you prefer white meat (like Mary).

THE POLENTA.

(You can generally follow the instructions on any polenta package and you'll do just fine) 6 cups water 1 teaspoon salt 2 tablespoons olive oil or b.u.t.ter 2 cups cornmeal or polenta meal Bring the water to a boil, then add the salt and olive oil or b.u.t.ter. Pour the cornmeal into the water slowly, stirring constantly-you don't want lumps. Keep stirring until the mixture thickens.

To serve, prepare individual servings in the kitchen. Spoon the polenta on a dish and add a couple pieces of chicken with sauce. Put extra sauce on the table in case a guest likes a little extra.

A Tip from Toni: Try a double boiler. You can leave the polenta over the water and while you have to continue stirring it, you don't have to stand there for an hour.

A Tip from Mom: Buy coa.r.s.e-ground cornmeal and make the polenta the old-fas.h.i.+oned way, stirred slowly; it's better. A lot of restaurants serve a watery, pale concoction that they call polenta, and it just doesn't hold up to many sauces. For example, this dish requires a hearty consistency in order to support the flavor of this special sauce.

Another Tip from Mom: And, if you'd like a truly authentic experience, remove the polenta from the pot, place it on a cutting board, and bring it to the table. Let it harden a bit. Then "cut" the portions using a baking string or even a heavy sewing thread. That's how Grandma Lucy used to serve it.

A party in Grandmom's bas.e.m.e.nt. Italian-Americans love to give parties in their bas.e.m.e.nts and garages. Please don't ask why.

The Trigianis made a killer lasagne, which is definitely the working woman's friend. This dish can be a.s.sembled in about an hour, especially if you use precooked noodles; you can refrigerate the lasagne to bake and eat the next day, or freeze it for even later. Just thaw, then bake it in the oven for an hour, and it's truly a perfect weekday meal as well as a nice, separate course in a dinner party or on the dinner buffet.

Trigiani Lasagne with Meat and Cheese MAKES 9 ENTReE PORTIONS OR 12 SIDE PORTIONS.

SAUCE.

4 garlic cloves, finely chopped 2 tablespoons olive oil 3 cups crushed tomatoes 12 fresh basil leaves, finely chopped Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste Combine the ingredients in a medium saucepan and simmer until the tomatoes have liquefied, 20 to 30 minutes.

RICOTTA CHEESE FILLING.

15 to 16 ounces ricotta cheese 5 ounces shredded Parmigiano-Reggiano 4 ounces bread crumbs teaspoon salt 4 to 5 sprigs of Italian parsley, finely chopped While the sauce is simmering, mix the ingredients for the filling and set aside.

MEAT*