Cooking with My Sisters Part 6

Less than a year later, Grandpop would be gone. Duke died a few days before Grandpop, but Grandmom decided to spare him the news. Cooking, baking, and tending her gardens took on even more importance after Grandpop's death. She mourned her husband for a very long time, and working in the kitchen kept her busy. Like Grandma Lucy, Grandmom Trigiani never remarried. We still spent our summers at Camp Viola, but it wasn't the same. We missed Grandpop. Our rewards for the free labor were a dip in the pool and some really great snacks.

* Pia says: "I remember the afternoons with pizze fritte. This was a treat not only because it was tasty but because it required standing over a hot pan or fryer of boiling fat. For Grandmom to do this in the middle of a summer day meant a special effort."

Most of the time, you got your annual fix of pizze fritte (also called zeppole in some parts of Italy) at the Big Time, the week-long event a.s.sociated with the Roseto parish's celebration of its patron, Our Lady of Mount Carmel. There was always a carnival with various food stands, and the most popular was the Sodality's booth, where battalions of women made the specialty. The Sodality was a social organization for women of the church.

During the Big Time, they would work over the deep-fat fryers to prepare the pizze fritte for sale. They would chatter, try to fix up their children with appropriate matches, watch the crowd, and comment on the various outfits parading past them. Spontaneously, one of the ladies would start to sing, maybe one of the beautiful hymns to Mary or a traditional Italian song. Soon, everyone would join in. The women were fascinating to watch, their hands pressing the little bundles of dough into flat discs that would turn gold in the oil and then be removed, doused in sugar, and served to you in a little napkin. And the Sodality members were fascinating to hear, because in their conversation you caught the cadence of the old country.

Pizze Fritte (Fried Dough) This is the same recipe as for Basic Pizza Dough, except that vegetable oil is used instead of olive oil.

MAKES 2 DOZEN PIECES.

1 tablespoon active dry yeast cup warm water Pinch of sugar 2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour 3 tablespoons vegetable oil 1 teaspoon salt 3 cups shortening or vegetable oil 1 cup granulated or confectioners' sugar In a small mixing bowl, dissolve the yeast in the warm water with the sugar. Set aside for 5 minutes.

On a large, flat surface, pour the flour into a mound, shaping a large well in the center. Pour the yeast mixture, 1 tablespoon of the vegetable oil, and the salt into the well. Then slowly work the flour into the center, using your fingers. Begin forming the mixture into a ball, kneading it until the dough can stretch. This takes between 10 and 15 minutes. Keep a little warm water close by, using a little at a time in case you need it to work the dough. The dough should always be soft but not wet.

Place the ball of dough into a large mixing bowl that you've coated lightly with vegetable oil. Turn the ball over until it's covered with the oil. Then cover the bowl with a clean dish towel. Put the dough in a warm place, away from any drafts, to rise. In about an hour and a half, it should be double its original size. At that point, it's ready.

Heat the shortening or remaining oil in a deep-fryer or large sauce pot. Using a knife, cut the dough into 2 4-inch pieces, and stretch them out with your fingertips. Drop a few pieces of dough into the hot oil and brown them for a short time, turning once; they should be light brown in color. Remove and drain on paper towels. While still warm, sprinkle with the sugar, and serve.

A Tip from Pia: Experiment with making this a savory snack. Grandmom would make appetizers by forming smaller pieces of dough and stuffing them with anchovies, roasted peppers, mozzarella, or canned banana peppers before frying them.

A Tip from Checka: Use frozen bread dough or purchase fresh dough from a local bakery.

Grandmom Trigiani always kept a couple of canned specialties on hand, including golden banana peppers stuffed with anchovies. Sometimes they were spicy hot; you had to check the handwritten label on the jar to make sure. Otherwise, you were the entertainment, depending on the scale of the heat and the intensity of your reaction. These are delicious, though, especially with Italian or French bread.

Canned Peppers Stuffed with Anchovies SERVES 6.

1 quart pepperoncini (finger-shaped) green peppers, pickled in vinegar-hot or mild 4 ounces anchovy fillets cup olive oil Slice the peppers lengthwise, one side only, and remove the seeds. Insert an anchovy fillet or two.

Arrange the peppers in a serving dish and coat with the olive oil. Cover and allow to marinate for at least 2 hours before serving.

Serve with Italian bread.

As I've said, a lot of Grandmom Trigiani's dishes were treated like gold and parceled out as such. One of them was the potato pizza, which is actually a small loaf of bread. If you are a potato person, this snack is for you.

Potato Pizza MAKES 3 LOAVES.

DOUGH.

1 packet active dry yeast 1 cup warm water 2 cups all-purpose flour 1 teaspoon salt 1 tablespoon olive oil Dissolve the yeast in cup of the warm water and set aside until bubbly.

Combine the flour and the salt and place on a cutting board, forming a well in the center. Add the yeast mixture, the remaining cup of water and the olive oil and slowly mix in the flour. Keep mixing until all the flour has been added and continue to mix by hand. Knead until the dough is soft and elastic. Place in a bowl and rub with olive oil. Cover and let rise.

When the dough has risen to about double the original size, knead again. Divide the dough into 3 even pieces.

FILLING.

4 medium potatoes 1 large sweet onion cup olive oil Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste 2 eggs, beaten Cube the potatoes and cook thoroughly in salted water. Drain. Finely chop the onion, saute in the olive oil until tender, and add to the potatoes. Season with salt and pepper. Coat the potato mixture lightly with the eggs. Preheat the oven to 425 degrees.

Rub olive oil on a cookie sheet. Take one piece of the dough and stretch it out into a rectangle, about inch thick. Spread one third of the potato mixture over the dough and roll, pinching one end over the other to form a loaf, with minimal overlap. Repeat with the other two pieces.

Bake for about 25 minutes, or until lightly brown.

Universally acclaimed throughout the family-I can't think of one person who doesn't love this-is the ricotta calzone, called cavazun in the Roseto dialect. (We have no idea where this word comes from.) This is a sort of turnover, with a very flaky, light crust that remains white, stuffed with a sweetened ricotta filling. This is an excellent dessert, but like all the recipes in this chapter, it is perfect any time of the day.

Ricotta Calzone (Cavazun) MAKES 4 TO 6.

FILLING.

6 eggs 1 cup sugar 2 teaspoons vanilla extract 2 pounds whole ricotta cheese, drained 1 teaspoon salt cup all-purpose flour 1 teaspoon baking powder In a large bowl, beat the eggs and slowly add cup of the sugar. Beat until light and pale gold in color. Add the vanilla.

In another large bowl, gently cream the ricotta with the salt, then slowly fold in the remaining cup of sugar.

Fold the two mixtures together, and do not overmix. Then, in a separate bowl, combine the flour and baking powder. Fold into the first mixture. The resulting consistency should be slightly thicker than pancake batter. If it's too soft, add a little more flour. Chill for 30 minutes to 1 hour.

CRUST.

2 cups all-purpose flour teaspoon salt cup shortening cup cold water Mix the flour and salt in a bowl. Cut and add the shortening slowly, allowing the mixture to turn into crumbs. Add the water and form a ball that comes away clean from the sides of the bowl. Cover with plastic wrap and chill in the refrigerator.

GLAZE.

1 egg yolk, beaten with 1 tablespoon water Preheat the oven to 425 degrees.

Divide the dough into 10 small b.a.l.l.s, about 3 to 4 inches in size. Generously flour a work surface. Use a rolling pin to roll each ball into a thin circle about 9 to 10 inches across.

Take about cup of the filling and place it in the center of the pastry. Fold the pastry in half. It should now look like a turnover. Crimp the edges all the way around and seal with a pastry cutter that has a serrated edge. (You can also seal the pastry with the tines of a fork.) Do not try to reuse any sc.r.a.ps of dough. Glaze the top of the closed pastry with the egg yolk mixture.

Transfer the pastry from the floured surface to a greased cookie sheet. You can use a spatula and your hand to help move it; it's a bit wet and heavy.

Bake for about 20 minutes, or until golden brown. Cool on a wire rack.

You knew you hit the mother lode if any one of these was in Grandmom Trigiani's bag on a road trip. Mary's favorite, though, by far, was the oil pretzel. She loved these so much that Grandmom would make them and ship them to her. On a car trip, they helped to pa.s.s the time and keep us full until the next meal.

The oil pretzel comes in two varieties: sweetened and unsweetened. Grandmom tended to call them biscotti, but they're not what we know as biscotti today. These are excellent for babies, by the way, because they can chew on them during teething.

Grandmom's Oil Pretzels MAKES 3 DOZEN.

1 cup warm water 3 packets active dry yeast 1 cup sugar 12 eggs 1 cup vegetable oil Pinch of salt 8 cups all-purpose flour In a small bowl, combine the warm water and the yeast with 2 teaspoons of the sugar. Let the yeast rise-as long as it takes.

Using a mixer, combine the eggs and the remaining sugar. Then add the oil, salt, and some flour-not too much. Add the yeast mixture and more flour until a bread-like dough is formed.

When the beaters can't spin anymore, move the dough to a large cutting board and knead it. Use as much flour as it takes to make a soft dough; if it's sticky add a little more flour.

Put the dough back into the bowl, cover, and let stand for 20 to 30 minutes.

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees.

Turn the dough out of the bowl onto the cutting board. Pat it out to a rectangle about 1 inches thick. Cut the dough into horizontal strips, about 2 inches wide, then cut them again vertically, at about 1-inch intervals. Important: Don't cut them too small or they will fall through the oven rack.

Put the pieces in boiling water for a few minutes, until they rise to the top. Remove and bake directly on the oven rack until they are brown on the bottom. Turn them over and let them brown on the other side.

Many of these treats were prepared for holidays, too. When a holiday rolled around, only a feast would do. Advance preparation often took weeks.

Spring's arrival and the holiday of Easter were marked by the annual baking of fuatha, a traditional sweet bread that no doubt is a cousin to panettone and challah bread. Mary thinks that the dialect word fuatha may come from the verb vuotare, which means "to empty"-exactly what you do when you knead the dough, three times, to punch out all the air. Making the Easter bread, though, was a spectacular operation that yielded enough loaves to share with neighbors and to send to longdistance family. (As you see, this is a theme: Holidays mean connecting, and when we Trigianis reach out and touch someone, we do it with food.) An old wives' tale says that fuatha dough will only rise in the spring, during Eastertide. I think it's true; we've tried to prepare it at other times of the year, but it just doesn't turn out as well. This is a blessing in disguise, because the process of making fuatha literally changed our lives for those few weeks in early spring. The dining room and the foyer-the sunniest, warmest rooms in our house-were overtaken with huge tubs of aromatic, fluffy dough. It would rise for hours, the sun coaxing the yeast to raise it, only to have Mom come through and pummel it so it would rise ever higher until it took two of us to carry the tubs into the kitchen, where she would pull strands of it, twist it into lush braids, and place it in the pans for baking.

* Mom says: "The first time I made fuatha by myself, it was a disaster. Even though I had watched Grandmom Trigiani make it, and recorded as much as I could in the way of ingredients, something went wrong. And Grandmom couldn't figure out what I did; she checked my recipe and it looked right. So I called her sister, Helen, to see what she thought. Aunt Helen came over to spend the day with me to take me through it step by step. I've never had a bad batch since!"

When the Easter bread was removed from the oven, puffy and warm, it was drenched in honey (Grandmom would sprinkle granulated sugar over the honey, which glistened like diamonds). We learned very early on that it was important for the food to be delicious, but beautiful as well. And this bread had many uses, whether to serve with coffee when visitors stopped by, as a late-night snack with hot chocolate, or toasted and b.u.t.tered for breakfast.

Easter Bread (Fuatha) MAKES 6 OR 7 RECTANGULAR LOAVES OR 4 ROUND LOAVES.

1 tablespoon salt 7 pounds all-purpose flour, with 5 cups kept separate 3 cups granulated sugar, with cup set aside 2 packages active dry yeast cup lukewarm water (105110 degrees) 2 cups warm milk (105110 degrees) 4 oranges, for juice and zest (yields 1 cups juice, cup zest) 4 lemons, for juice and zest (yields 1 cups juice, cup zest) pound (2 sticks) unsalted b.u.t.ter, cut into small pieces and softened 9 jumbo eggs (or 12 small or 10 medium eggs) 1 tablespoons vanilla extract 1 tablespoons lemon extract 1 tablespoons orange extract 1 ounces anisette 1 ounces light rum 4 to 8 ounces vegetable shortening, for greasing pans 24 ounces honey, for brushing on finished loaves In a large bowl, combine the salt, 5 cups of the flour, and 1 cup of the sugar. In a separate bowl, combine the yeast and the warm water. Dissolve the yeast and set aside for several minutes until bubbly. Then add the yeast mixture to the flour mixture. Add the 2 cups of warm milk to the mixture. Mix until you have a solid, sticky paste; cover with wax paper and blankets and place in a warm room, preferably with sunlight. Allow to rise for approximately 3 hours, or until it is doubled in size.

Grate the zest from the oranges and lemons. Set the zest aside. Squeeze the juices from the oranges and lemons to equal 3 cups. Set aside.

In a mixer, beat the b.u.t.ter and 2 cups of the remaining sugar, adding the sugar gradually until the combination is light and fluffy. Add the eggs and beat until blended (do not overbeat!). Add the vanilla, lemon, and orange extracts, anisette, rum, lemon and orange zests, and lemon and orange juices.

Add this mixture to the rising dough. Mix together slowly and add the additional flour cup by cup-usually 4 to 5 pounds-until the dough becomes firm in consistency and satiny in texture. Knead very well.

Form the dough into one large round ball; b.u.t.ter the top thoroughly and cover with waxed paper and blankets. Place it in a warm room, preferably with sunlight. Allow the dough to double in size, approximately 4 to 5 hours. (We use a medium-size white plastic dishpan, reserved only for making Easter bread.) When the dough has doubled in size, knead slightly and prepare loaves in one of three formats: rectangular loaf, round loaf, or round loaf of separate buns. All pans should be greased generously with vegetable shortening.

To make separate buns, take a piece of dough, about the size of a woman's fist, and roll it out between your hands to the proportion of a sausage. Place on a bread board and pat it down to about 2 inches in width and inch in depth. Wrap the piece of dough around the first and middle fingers of your free hand, to about 3 inches in length. Tuck in the top end and place standing up in a round baking pan. Start by putting one bun in the middle and fill around the pan with buns also standing on end. b.u.t.ter the tops and cover, allowing to rise until it's quite puffy, about 1 to 2 hours, and the dough doubles in size.

To make a round or rectangular loaf, place the dough directly in the pan. b.u.t.ter the tops of the loaves and cover again. Allow the prepared loaves to rise for about 1 to 2 hours, until the dough doubles in size. When a round or rectangular loaf has risen fully, make shallow slashes in the tops in the form of a cross.

Preheat the oven to 275 degrees.

Bake until the tops are light brown and a toothpick, when inserted, comes out clean. Depending on the size of the loaves, this can take anywhere from 20 minutes to more than an hour.

When baked, remove from the oven and allow to cool for about an hour. Remove from pans while still warm, and allow to cool slightly on wax paper; brush honey on top. When the bread is completely cool, brush with honey again, then wrap in wax paper, then aluminum foil. (You have the option of sprinkling the extra cup of sugar over the loaves after the second brushing with honey.) NOTE: All ingredients should be at room temperature when preparation begins. The warmth of the house is instrumental in the times that are provided for the rising of the yeast mixture and dough. It is best to place the dough near a radiator or in a sunny spot so that the dough can enjoy the benefits of the warmest heat available. (Don't be afraid to push up the thermostat!) Also, cover the dough with waxed paper first so that in the event the dough touches the cloth, it can be easily removed. Finally, b.u.t.tering the top of the dough before allowing it to rise prohibits a crusty top from forming, thus providing the best dough for kneading and ultimate result when baked.

Making the Easter bread with Mom, who learned it from Grandmom Trigiani and her sister, Aunt Helen, kept us connected to our traditions after our move to faraway Big Stone Gap. About Big Stone Gap, Grandmom said, "It's pretty, but I couldn't live in a place where they don't make cheese."

CHAPTER EIGHT.

Things We Hated as Kids but Love to Serve Now Spezzad. Or as we liked to say, SPITzad. Little did we know that this was Roseto dialect for spezzatino, which means "stew" in Italian. And little did we know we would come to love it.

* Checka says: "Except for me."

Because when we were kids, we hated it, we dreaded it, and we ate as little of it as possible.

* Checka says: "Except Toni, who loved it. The rest of us would pick out the meat and eat only that."

Spezzad is a hearty stew that features greens, bites of veal or beef, Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese, and egg in a clear broth.

From left: Pia, Mary, Toni, and Adri do their best ABBA imitation in Day-Glo pink jumpers with yellow racing stripes.

Spezzatino (Spezzad) SERVES 10 TO 12.

2 to 3 pounds veal, suitable for a stew 1 medium onion, finely chopped cup olive oil 2 quarts chicken broth 2 large bunches of endive, any type 6 to 8 eggs 1 cup finely chopped Italian parsley 1 cup grated Parmigiano-Reggiano Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste Using kitchen scissors, cut the veal into small pieces (smaller than bite-size).

In a large pot, brown the veal and onion in olive oil. Simmer until the meat is tender. Add the chicken broth. Set aside.

Steam the endive until tender. Chop fine. Add the endive to the soup stock. Bring this to a low boil.

Beat the eggs. Add the parsley and cheese, then season with salt and pepper. Drop the egg mixture into the boiling soup 15 minutes prior to serving.

Serve with Italian rolls or bread.

A Tip from Mom: To save time, use frozen greens-even mustard greens are okay, as I discovered after moving to the South-but don't skip the steaming. And always do the chopping afterward because it helps to drain the maximum amount of water.

The thing was, adults love spezzad, especially guests at our house, who would welcome seconds. (We made it clear we thought they were simply pandering to Mom.) Of course, we pushed thirds on these unsuspecting victims, because the more that was eaten by company, the less there was for leftovers. If there was just a little, or not enough for the entire family, it was a good bet that Mom would save it for Dad's lunch on the weekend.

Even though Toni was the only one who liked the spezzad, Mom established, early on, that she was cooking one meal and one meal only, and we were going to learn to eat everything. This not only lessened the burden for her, it taught us an important lesson about being good guests.

When Mary was visiting the family in Bergamo, Mafalda liked to use the opportunity to prepare cla.s.sic dishes, first because Don Andrea had excellent taste and liked a multicourse meal; second, because she loved to cook; and third, because she knew Mary liked to learn about the Italian way of dining. One time, Mafalda asked Mary if she'd like to try vitello tonnato, and like everyone else that hears this for the first time, Mary did a double take on the tuna "sauce." Fortified by Mom's training and her trust of Mafalda, Mary gave it a whirl. She now loves it. This truly unique dish is finally starting to show up on the menus of fine Italian restaurants in the larger American cities.

Mafalda's Vitello Tonnato (Veal with Tuna Sauce) Prepare one day in advance SERVES 6.

2 cups chicken stock 1 onion, quartered 1 carrot, quartered 2 celery stalks, sliced 8 large but thin veal fillets One 6-ounce can imported Italian tuna, drained 4 anchovy fillets cup olive oil 4 tablespoons capers, drained 3 tablespoons fresh lemon juice 1 cup mayonnaise 6 sprigs of Italian parsley Combine the chicken stock, onion, carrot, and celery in a large skillet. Bring to a low boil. Add the veal, braising it very slowly. When the veal is cooked through, in just a few minutes, cover and remove the pan from the heat, leaving the veal in the pan. Refrigerate.

Using a blender or food processor, combine the tuna, anchovies, olive oil, 3 tablespoons of the capers, and the lemon juice. The sauce is ready when the texture is creamy and uniform.

In a large bowl, fold the sauce into the mayonnaise.

To prepare, spread a tablespoon or so of the sauce on a large platter. Place the pieces of veal side to side on the platter. Cover the veal with the remaining sauce and refrigerate for a day, covered with plastic wrap. To serve, bring the platter to room temperature. Garnish with the parsley and the remaining tablespoon of capers.

From tuna we move to anchovies. Now this is something most people avoid, unless they're going for a little flavor in a Caesar salad (note: A North American invention). But there is one dish that somehow reduces the negative impact of the anchovy to the point that most people, except children, really like it. Which means more for the grown-ups.

The dish is anchovy pizza, which is made like the potato pizza in the previous chapter. The best way to serve this is to cut it into half-inch slices. That way, the taste of the anchovies is not overwhelming and it balances nicely with the bread. However, if that's the way it's served, you will wind up eating a lot of it. I have never met anyone who doesn't love it.

Anchovy Pizza MAKES 3 LOAVES.

DOUGH.

1 packet active dry yeast 1 cup warm water 2 cups all-purpose flour 1 teaspoon salt 1 tablespoon olive oil Dissolve the yeast in cup of the warm water and set aside until bubbly.

Combine the flour and the salt and mound on a cutting board, forming a well in the center. Add the yeast mixture, the remaining cup of water, and the olive oil and slowly draw in the flour. Keep mixing until all the flour has been added and continue to mix by hand. Knead until the dough is soft and elastic. Place in a bowl and rub with olive oil. Cover and let rise to about double the original size.

When the dough has risen, knead it again. Divide the dough into 3 even pieces.