What'd Ya Do With An Eggplant

Well, I have been without a job for a week now; so much for my never being out of work for more than a week comment. In keeping with my new mission of planning meals on a now a very tight budget, I thought of a question that one of the girls at the office asked when one of the salesmen brought in eggplants. “What’d ya do with an eggplant?”

My grandparents grew eggplants in the backyard garden. Gramma Rinaldi used eggplants in many different recipes. She used them in vegetable stews, minestrone soup, and just plain fried. Gramma taught me that the perfect eggplant is not the biggest one; it’s the medium size because the bigger ones are too seedy. At first, I wouldn’t eat eggplants because I didn’t like the seedy part. But after I took my private cooking classes in Gramma’s kitchen, I learned to appreciate the eggplant. Now, the first thing that comes to my mind when I see a nice sized purple eggplant is eggplant parmigiana. I always make sure to buy an extra one because it is just to tempting not to munch on them while they’re frying. I can make a meal out of just eating them during the frying stage of preparation, which would save a few bucks too.

Eggplant Parmigiana

Ingredients:

2 medium eggplants
4 eggs, beaten
2 cups bread crumbs
1/2 cup grated parmesan cheese
salt/pepper to taste
¼ tsp. Garlic Powder
Marinara sauce (preferably your own homemade sauce – or 1 jar of store bought sauce)
16 oz. mozzarella, sliced thin or thickly grated
olive oil for frying

Directions:

Slice eggplant into slices about 1/4" thick. Mix bread crumbs with grated cheese, salt/pepper and garlic powder. Dip eggplant in egg and then roll in bread crumb mixture. Fry until light brown. Drain on paper towel. In baking pan, put a layer of eggplant, sauce and mozzarella cheese, make layers until pan is full. Top with mozzarella, more grated parmesan cheese and sauce. Bake in 350 degree oven for 35 minutes until cheese melts.

Bum Stew

Soon, I will be out of a job because my employer is going to close up the box plant where I work. My job hunt has begun and frankly it is a little frightening. Everyday I am bombarded with stories on the nightly news about the awful state of our economy. Friends,family, and co-workers all wish me the best. Vendors and customers have offered to let me use their name as a reference. Many offer tips on resume writing, places that may be hiring, and some just moral support. Every comment, every offer, and every kind word of support has built up my confidence until I check my e

mail and don’t see any job offers.

When the announcement was made about the plant closure, I was not worried. I have never been out of a job for more than a week. In the past, I’ve been fired from my first job at a pretzel factory, quit several jobs, experienced a closure before, and was even unexpectedly fired from a job in which I had worked eleven years. I took it all in stride as they say and always came out ahead. The scary part about losing this job, besides the economy, is now I’m much older and out of shape. People that know me are aware of my reputation and work ethic. They know what kind of a worker I am; age and appearance never seemed matter too much. It is much more difficult

to impress a total stranger that knows nothing about me.

On the other hand, it seems that most companies prefer that you apply online. Applying online does save my time and gas money but doesn’t allow for any face time with hiring managers. I’ve been asking myself and others what is the recipe for success in getting my resume noticed. The answer is: the recipe has to be one that people would be willing to try out. So, that is my immediate goal, to create a recipe for success by creating a noticeable resume and a positive, self confident job hunting attitude.

Like every other middle class American, one of the few ways of cutting back on expenses is to carefully plan a trip to the grocery store. After all, the grocery bill is the only one we have control over. My family, middle class background has taught me how to make up meals on a tight budget. One recipe that came to mind to me today is my mother-in-law’s recipe for what she calls bum stew. It’s made from ingredients that are usually already in the pantry; and doesn't cost much to make. I remember that my father-in-law, fondly named Bop Bop by my daughter, loved bum stew. He’d ask Mom Mom, my mother-in-law, to make it even though they could afford to make much finer meals

Bum Stew:

1 pound ground beef
2 (10.75 ounce) can condensed tomato soup
4 cups water
1 large chopped onion
4 carrots, chopped
3 potatoes, peeled and cubed
1 lb. fresh green beans, cut into bite sized pieces
Salt & Pepper to taste

In a large pot, sauté the ground beef. Drain off about half of the fat. Add the tomato soup, water, onions, carrots, potatoes, and green beans. Salt and pepper to taste. Reduce heat to low. Cover and simmer about 30 minutes, or until the vegetables are tender

Pane Della Terra In The Backyard Oven

Like my grandparents, many families in our neighborhood had outdoor, backyard brick ovens. Gramma Mollico baked bread in that oven for many, many years. My dad told me that she called the bread, pane della terra; bread of the earth. By the time I was born, the oven in our backyard was dismantled and the base was used as part of the clothesline system my grandfather assembled in the backyard. He attached a tall pole to the base and had clotheslines running across the backyard from our third floor apartment and Aunt Katie’s second floor back porch. Gramma Rinaldi could walk outside and put her clothes basket on top of it while she hung out her clothes to dry. Our family moved the traditional bread baking to inside the house. But, I do remember Mrs. Galasso next door baking bread in her backyard oven. She did not speak English but knew that the kids hung around her to get a crust of her hot bread fresh from the oven.

I’m not a bread baker. I always thought anything having to do with yeast is just too difficult to master. Every one in a while, I think about buying a bread making machine but that just seems so against the centuries old art of bread making. Even after Gramma Mollico died, her daughter, Gramma Rinaldi, and every one of my aunts baked bread in their kitchen ovens. For some reason, probably the same as mine, my mother never baked bread for us. Then again every time any one of the women in the house baked bread, we always received a loaf of bread. So, Mom never had to bake bread. Maybe it had to do with her being Polish; her mother never baked bread either. Maybe her family did not carry on the tradition of bread baking. I haven’t passed on the art of bread baking to my daughter either. My reasoning is because it takes up too much of my time and you can find pretty good bread at the market.

It’s sad that a traditional food staple has been reduced to buying bread from the supermarket after centuries of making it at home. The saying, “good as sliced bread” is lost on me because I do not like store bought, white sliced bread. I search out freshly baked, crusty bread every time I step in the market. And, I am willing to pay top dollar for good bread. There is nothing in the world like hot bread with cold butter; I could eat the whole loaf. I cringe every time my daughter brings home plain, white sliced bread packed in a plastic sleeve. She likes the bland, soft, store bought white bread. I guess because she never tasted pane della terra.

My Aunt Angie, dad’s older sister, baked bread all the time. When she baked bread, she baked numerous loaves and just like Gramma, everyone got a loaf of Aunt Angie’s bread. Her kitchen always smelled so great when she baked bread. She baked all kinds of bread; white, wheat, raisin, and my dad’s favorite, sausage. Me, I just loved her crusty, white bread.

Happily, her daughter, Carole, carries on the family tradition, so the family art of bread making isn’t totally lost. Hopefully, one of her daughters will learn to bake bread and carry on the tradition without the use of a bread machine.

Gramma Grace Rinaldi Bread Recipe

· 3 Sm. Packages yeast
· 3-4 Cups Warm Water
· 3 tsp. Salt
· 1 Stick Butter
· 5 Lbs Flour
· ½ Cup Lard
· 2 eggs (optional)

Dissolve yeast in warm water. Add salt and butter. Knead in flour, eggs, and lard. Use judgement if necessary to add more warm water to make dough. Put dough in a large bowl, cover and let rise. Punch down and let rise again. Cut enough dough to fill bread pan half way up. Spritz oven with water and bake at 350 degrees for 1 hour.

Note: Since I can’t bake bread and really wanted to give it a shot when we bought self rising flour by mistake. I tried a recipe that I found on the All Recipes.com website and it actually came out pretty good. However, the second day it tasted kind of stale. So, eat it on the day it’s baked.

BEER BREAD

INGREDIENTS:
3 cups self-rising flour
3 tablespoons white sugar
1 (12 fluid ounce) can or bottle beer, room temperature
1/4 cup margarine, melted

DIRECTIONS:
Preheat oven to 375 degrees F (190 degrees C). Lightly grease a 9x5 inch baking pan
In a large bowl, combine flour, sugar and beer. Mix just until blended. Scoop into prepared baking pan. Pour melted margarine on top of loaf
Bake in preheated oven for 45 to 60 minutes, until bottom of loaf sounds hollow when tapped.

She's a Nice Girl but Can She Make Sauce?

She’s a Nice Girl but Can She Make Sauce?

Sauce is an important part of our family cuisine. More accurately, it’s a staple food. Everyone in my family can make home made sauce. By sauce I don’t mean gravy, marinara, carbonara, alfredo, or pesto; I mean plain, old traditional non-chunky, tomato sauce. Oh, there are many versions of “the sauce,” even in my own family, but great-gramma Mollico’s plain ordinary sauce still stands the test of time. The first thing my Polish mother had to learn to cook once she married my Italian father was sauce. Same thing happened to me when I married a Welshman, even he had to have “the sauce.” Non-Italian family members become blood relative Italians once they master making of or craving of “the sauce.” The alternative acceptance into the family is surviving someone conning the new comer into eating the hottest pepper ever grown without passing out dead. Which by the way, has happened every time my cousins or I brought a new potential friend to a family gathering; the hot pepper test has driven away many a suitor.

The making of the sauce used to be a long drawn out process that started with planting garden tomatoes. Dozens and dozens of tomato plants covered Grampa Rinaldi and the surrounding neighborhood back yards in lieu of harvesting plump, red, juicy tomatoes in preparation of the annual sauce making ritual. In late summer, the tomatoes were gathered in wooden bushel baskets and carried down into the cellar and upstairs kitchens in Grampa’s house. Both Grammas Mollico and Rinaldi, Aunt Katie, and Millie, from next door, cooked the tomatoes and spring water in huge pots on top of both her stoves. The whole house would smell like stewed tomatoes. They stirred up the mixture with, what looked like to me, small oars until the tomatoes were stewed just right. Then, the canning process began.

First the tomatoes were put through a sieve. Gramma and her helpers spend hours cranking the handle on the sieves that removed the tomato skins and seeds. Once the skins and seeds were separated from the tomatoes, the puree was poured into shiny, cleaned, mason jars. Gramma brought cases of new Mason jar lids from Uncle Jim’s store so that the jars would be sealed properly. Once the jars cooled, they were stacked on the shelves that Grampa built down in the cellar. All the helpers got to bring home their share of the prized canned tomatoes as payment for helping Gramma. Our family never had to buy a jar of Ragu when Gramma was alive. All we had to do was go down the cellar and pick up a jar.

Sadly, the tomato harvesting and canning is now a lost art in our family. Even my Mom, buys cans of tomato puree in the grocery store. As a kid, I loved hanging around watching and listening to the woman chatting away about all kind of things as they were cooking. And, I can now barely even remember the smells that radiated from Gramma’s kitchen.

While I was pregnant and off from work on maternity leave, I had Gramma Rinaldi teach me how to cook. My Welshman husband had the sauce craving really bad so I would call Gramma and tell her what we wanted for dinner. She would tell me what to get from the store. I would bring the groceries to her house and we would talk and cook. Just like her and her canning helpers did when I was small. She knew I would never go through all the trouble of canning tomatoes so she adapted her recipe so that I could make sauce from store bought canned tomatoes. She said to always buy Contadina tomato products because they tasted the closest to her canned tomatoes. Gramma rarely wrote any recipes down on paper, so I wrote down what she taught me.

Gramma Grace Rinaldi's Spaghetti Sauce

1 Lb Pork Butt or Country Style Spare Ribs
Olive Oil
2 Cloves Crushed Garlic
2 Large cans of Tomato Puree
¾ can of water (use tomato puree can)
2 Small (6 oz) cans of Tomato Paste
1 can of water from the tomato paste can
3 Whole Bay Leaves
Sweet Basil
Garlic Powder or crushed garlic cloves
Onion Powder
Oregano
Parsley
Grated Parmesan or Romano Cheese
Salt
Pepper
Sugar, “only if the tomatoes taste bitter.”

Brown pork and garlic in enough olive oil to cover the bottom on a Dutch oven type pan.
Add the tomato puree, tomato paste, and the water from both sized cans. (I think Gramma used the cans to measure the water in order to get every bit of the tomato to come out of the cans. My family doesn’t waste anything.)
Add each of the other ingredients one at a time by sprinkling enough of each to lightly cover the whole top of the pan. Go easy on the salt and sugar. After you add everything use your own taste to judge as to whether or not you have enough of the herbs and cheese flavors coming through the tomatoes.
Let everything come to a boil, then simmer at least two hours.
The longer the sauce simmers the thicker it gets. Gramma said not to add cold water to the sauce if it gets too thick. Add only warm water or the tomatoes will get “bitter.”

If you add meatballs, fry them first before placing them in the sauce. Remember, meatballs will soak up the sauce too.

Gramma’s Meatballs

3 Lbs ground beef
1 Lb lean ground pork
2 Eggs
Garlic
Parsley
Grated Parmesan or Romano Cheese
Salt
Pepper
Stale “day old” white bread
Olive Oil

In a large bowl, add meat, eggs, garlic, parsley, cheese, salt and pepper to taste. Run a couple handfuls of stale bread under running water to moisten. Squeeze all the water out of the bread and add to meat mixture. (if no day old bread is available, sprinkle enough dry Italian style bread crumbs to heavily cover the entire top of meat mixture in the bowl.) Mix well and roll into small balls. Fry in olive oil, brown well on all sides of ball, and add to sauce pot.

Everything I Learned as a Kid Came from Annie

Cousin Annie lived downstairs in the second floor apartment of Grampa Rinaldi’s house. My parents, brother, and I lived in the third floor apartment. Gramma and Grampa lived on the first floor. A very steep set of stairs separated me from Annie, but that never stopped me from bounding down the stairs any time of day or night to be with Annie. As small children we were together every single day. I hated it when she started school and I couldn't go with her just because I was one year too young to start kindergarten at St. Anthony’s School. I’m sure I bugged the heck put of her asking questions about what happened at school. I was so afraid that she would make too many new friends and leave me behind. I already played second fiddle next to Mary Ruth Valenino, her girlfriend up the street. I prayed to the Virgin Mary that Annie would always be like a sister to me and never go away.

As we grew up, whenever Annie learned anything new she would fill me in on the information. She clued me in on who had cooties and not to eat “mookey” pizza. Even secrets like, Mary Ruth and her liked Frannie Masarro, the neighborhood dream boy. Even though my mom taught me about sex from her nursing school medical textbook, she was too late because Annie already filled me in about kissing boys, getting pregnant, and which girls in the neighborhood were slutty. Annie taught me about makeup, shaving my armpits, and all about rock and roll music. She planned a full night of entertainment and snacks over us watching the Beatles on the Ed Sullivan show. I thought she went nuts when she started screaming while watching that program. Her mom, Aunt Katie, as usual threw a shoe at her to get her to shut up. I later found out from her that you were supposed to scream as loud as possible when a rock and roll idol was performing.

To me, Annie is our family’s Martha Stewart. She has a great family, wonderful home, and she also treasures our favorite family recipes. We both agree that family tradition is handed down in the food our ancestors prepared more so than anything else. When Annie had her own apartment, the first meal she made for me was delicious pork chops. I now call them Annie’s Italian Pork Chops.


Annie's Italian Pork Chops
Ingredients:
Pork Chops
Diced Potatoes
Medium Sliced Onion
Large Can Crushed Plumb Tomatoes
Parsley
Handful Bread Crumbs
Salt & Pepper to taste
2 -3 Crushed Garlic Cloves (to taste)
Handful Grated Parmesan or Romano Cheese

Mix all of the above in 9x13 pan.
Bake 350 uncovered until pork is tender, approx. 1 hour.

Gramma Grace's Easter Pie

Growing up I loved the Easter holiday. In our family, Easter was as big a deal as Christmas. The boys in the family wore little suits and ties with white shirts and new shoes. They looked like cute, but uncomfortable miniature versions of their Dads with slicked back hair. All the little girls in the family got new outfits to wear on Easter Sunday too. Easter outfits consisted of, my favorite, straw hats with streamers, ruffled dresses, lace-trimmed socks, and shiny, new black patent leather mary jane shoes. Every family member has Easter photos to prove we dressed up for the yearly Easter Sunday mass and following breakfast at Gramma’s house.

When us good Catholic children got up on Easter morning, we would rush to see what the Easter Bunny left in our beautiful Easter baskets. However, none of the candy could be eaten yet. You had to fast until after you went to mass and received Holy Communion. And, besides having to stay clean all day because of wearing the new clothes, we had to wait until after breakfast to eat any of the candy. Believe me when I tell you what torture it was waiting to be able to eat that Easter candy, especially after having to give up things like candy for Lent. I tried not promise to give up candy for Lent since I knew I could never keep that promise and was afraid I would end up burning in hell. I would try to give up thing like milk, vegetables, or the ever popular swear words. So, it will be my Mom’s fault that I burn in hell because she made me drink milk and eat vegetables.

One of my favorite things to eat on Easter at Gramma’s house was her Easter Rice Pie. Every Italian family has a version of what they say is the right recipe for Easter Rice Pie; here is my family’s simple yet tasty recipe:

Easter Rice Pie

Crust:
2 cups flour
2/3 cup Lard (vegetable shortening)
¼ tsp salt
6-7 Tbsp cold water
Filling:
1 Lb par boiled rice (save liquid for moistening)
1 ½ Lb proscuitto or boiled ham, cut in bite sized pieces
1 handful of Parmesan cheese
8 or 9 eggs, beaten
Dash of black pepper

Mix crust ingredients like you would make a pie crust. Roll dough and place pie crust in a 12” lightly greased cast iron frying pan. In a separate bowl, mix all filling ingredients. Use the liquid saved from boiling the rice to just moisten if it seems too dry. Fill pie crust and bake right in the cast iron pan at 325 degrees for 1 hour.

Recipe Searching and Hunting at the Grocery Store

I get so tired of eating and making the same things over and over. My problem is that I always seem so pressed for time. Plus, I hate grocery shopping; which is kind of weird since I like to cook and collect recipes. I’ll flip through my recipe collection and then my cupboard only to discover that I do not have some of the ingredients on hand. Once I’m home from work, I do not like to have to go back out to run to the store. That’s when I call Libby and get her to stop for me. Thank heaven that she loves to shop; but she always brings home more than I asked for since she has access to my debit card. I guess it is a small price to pay since I did not want to grocery shop anyway.

Libby has been interested in Middle Eastern cuisine lately most likely from associating with such a diverse group of students that work in her office at the University of South Florida. I’ve been willing to try anything as long as it’s quick to make, easy to find the ingredients, and seems like it would taste good. I found this recipe in an old edition of a Better Homes and Gardens Magazine I had laying around the house. I let them pile up until I have the time to cut out the recipes I want to try. After reading this recipe for Moroccan Chicken Stew, I thought I would give it a try. And as luck would have it, I had all the ingredients on hand. It turned out great; another “make again” recipe for my family favorites category.

Moroccan Chicken Stew

Ingredients:

1 lb. skinless boneless chicken thighs, cut into 1” pieces
1 tbsp. flour
1 tsp. ground coriander
1 tsp. ground cumin
1 tsp. ground paprika
1 tsp. salt
½ tsp. ground cinnamon
2 medium onions, cut into wedges
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 tbsp. olive oil
28oz. can crushed tomatoes
15 oz. can chickpeas, rinsed and drained
1 ½ cups water
½ cup raisins
1/3 cup small pitted black olives
3 cups hot cooked couscous
¼ cup snipped fresh cilantro

Directions:

In a bowl coat chicken with a mixture of flour, coriander, cumin, paprika, salt, and cinnamon. Set aside to marinate.
In a 4-Qt. Dutch oven cook onion and garlic in hot oil until tender. Remove from pan, reserving oil in pan.
Add chicken pieces, cook quickly until lightly browned, stir constantly.
Return onion to pan and add tomatoes, chickpeas, water, raisins, and olives.
Bring to a boil, reduce heat, and simmer about 10 minutes or until chicken is tender. Stir occasionally.
Spoon couscous into soup bowls and ladle stew on top. Sprinkle with cilantro