Thankful

Is anyone thankful for anything?  Let me know.

Antipasto Salad

"A picture is worth a thousand words." (Napoleon Bonaparte)

 

Summer Seafood

Who doesn't start thinking seafood as soon as that first warm breeze of Summer stirs? For me the thoughts are of shellfish. Crabs to be exact. I grew up "pickin" crabs from the Gulf of Mexico, having grown up in South East Texas. Here on the East Coast these are referred to as Louisiana crabs and not worthy of our attention in July and August when the Chesapeake Blue Crab is in. Although I agree the blue is a little sweeter and refined, you never forget your first time. My first time was the Summer I was 5 years old. It began with an early morning wake up call. Mom and dad piled all four kids in our station wagon (very Brady Bunch)and we drove south for a couple hours to Bolliver Peninsula to go crabbing. Now as a kid this was fascinating. We're gonna do what? Catch crabs? And eat them? There was a run down shack and a rickety pier and that was about all. Dad paid an old sea hag a couple bucks to use her pier and we set to work. Mom brought chicken necks from the Piggely Wiggely, a southern staple. They were the cheapest cut in the grocery and I guarantee she was the only white lady in the store buying them. Dad brought the string and the net. Yes, string, regular string. Dad helped me tie the string around the neck and showed me how to drop it over the side of the pier and left me to wait while he and mom got everyone else settled along the pier. Sure enough in no time flat I felt a little tug on my string. The adrenalin started to surge and I started to squeal, "I got a crab, I got a crab". But I soon learned I had to contain my excitement, be cool like my big sister Amy, if I ever wanted to actually catch one of these things. You had to pull the string up very slowly, gently so the crab feasting on the neck didn't spook and let go. Then mom or dad would swoop in, net the crab and dump it in the bushel. Boy, the memories are fabulous and simple. This family tradition lived on every Summer until we moved to the East Coast. I'll never forget the fun and the mishaps and most of all the steamed Louisiana crabs. For the best steamed blue crabs in Delaware call Feby's Seafood and ask for Phillip. Tell him Hawk and Sally sent you.http://www.febysfishery.com/

Stress Eating

We've all done it. Stress eat. Why do we get such comfort from such fatty foods when life gets tough? For me the absolute best is macaroni and cheese with mashed potatoes coming in a close second. What's your poison?

Grown Up Popcorn

Remember the stove top Jiffy Pop in the little aluminum pan with the foil top that expanded as the steam from the popping corn began to rise?  Do they even make that anymore?  I have very fond memories of popcorn.  Popcorn was Saturday night, mom and dad out for the evening, staying up late.  Something the baby sitter could do to entertain us.  It was like the very first Swanson TV dinners - but that's another story.  Today I crave popcorn as my happy hour snack at least weekly.  I think I have myself convinced it's not a fattening as cheese and crackers.  Who knows and who cares about calories when it comes to happy hour.  Am I right?

Here's how I spruce up that age old childhood favorite for a quick happy hour treat.  I drizzle lite, no fake butter microwave popcorn with extra virgin olive oil and sprinkle with some fabulous Italian Black Truffle Sea Salt  (found at Pro Kitchen Gear in Greenville Delaware, www.prokitchengear.com).  Crazy good!

Gramma Russo's Sunday Sauce

Just realized I haven't shared any recipes yet. Well, this is a classic, so write it down and hand it down to the next generation. This is my Gramma Russo's Sunday sauce. We didn't visit often. Once a year to be exact but I remember Sunday supper well. We lived in Texas and both sets of grandparents lived in upper state New York. So once a year we piled into the family wagon and made the 3-4 day trip north. That's a story in itself for another time.

Always on Sunday my Gramma Russo did the classic multiple course Italian meal we've all read about, participated in, enjoyed. I was fascinated! At 5 & 6 years old I followed my gramma down into the basement kitchen and watched as she rolled out the homemade pasta and hung it to dry. She roasted red peppers speared on a dinner fork over the double burner gas stove for goodness sake. I'd never seen such things. The other thing I had never seen was an upstairs kitchen that was used for virtually nothing. It was pristine. Not extravagant, just not used for anything. All the real, heavy duty cooking was done in the basement. And Gramma Russo would clomp up and down those basement steps in Lauren Bacall pumps carrying several courses to the dining room table.

We ate for what seemed like hours to me. I still love to sit around the table after dinner telling stories and nibbling the leftover bits, a problem for my British husband who grew up with food simply for physical nourishment.  My brother and sister would get bored and want to be excused but I loved to stay and listen to grown up stories told in half English and half Italian by my fathers relatives. I think this is where my love of food began and the idea that it nourishes our souls and makes us a family. The old aunts were my favorite. Rita, Mary, Lena, Maggie and cousin Bobby (aka Mary Poppins - another story).  Lots of cheek pinching and exclamations about hearty appetites ( I've always had one).

I started this to share a recipe but my memories got int he way, so here we go.  I'm not very good at following recipes, I like to put my own twist on everything and this makes me not very good at writing recipes in the traditional sense.  No list of ingredients or steps to follow.  More like a story to tell, so follow along.

Gramma always started with about 2 pounds of meat.  She was partial to Italian pork sausage (both hot and sweet).  Over the years I've tried other meat but when my sister and I say we're making Gramma Sauce we use the sausage.  Keep the sausage in about 6 inch links and brown it all in a big heavy bottom sauce pot.  Add three 15 ounce cans of tomoato sauce and three 15 ounce cans of water.  We fill each empty tomato sauce can with water as we go to rinse out all the sauce.  Add one 6 ounce can of tomato paste and one 6 ounce can of water, again rinse the paste can.  Turn the heat up and get it boiling.  Add a handful of dired oregano, about a tablespoon of fennel seeds, two bay leaves, a little salt and pepper.  Put the lid on and let this boil for about an hour.  Turn it down to low, take the lid off and let it simmer most of the day.  If it seems to be getting too thick, put the lid back on for a while.  I usually start this process by 10 am so my house smells like Sunday Sauce all day. 

I know this is not a sophisticated recipe and I've fancied it up over the years with versions that use fancy cuts of meat, cook the paste with meat, contain wine, have chopped garlic and onions, the list is endless.  But when I am feeling the need for family and comfort, I make it exactly like my Gramma did so many years ago. 

"What'll Ya Have?"

A recent trip to one of my favorite mid-week, casual, they know my drink, neighborhood pubs got me thinking.  Have you ever been so sure of what you want you can taste it?  You have your heart set.  It is exactly what you've been craving.  The description is warm and inviting.  You get a happy glow just thinking about it.  Then the moment of truth arrives with that first bite and the disappointment, at first, just sort of seeps in.  Second bite and this is definitely not what you were expecting.  Bummer.  Do you keep eating or change up? 

This made me think about life's choices.  Sometimes we are so sure of the direction we want to go we can "taste it".  What do you do when the choice you make turns out to be wrong for you.  It's not what you wanted after all.  Do you continue along this, your chosen path, or change up?