Be it ever so humble...

Ok- another late posting... this one is from early December. Business has been good though; it's always tough to get these posted because down time at work is my best time for writing. Anyway- read on; it is worth all your waiting.




I just got back from a whirlwind tour of Home. Even in the cold, my City is as unbelieveable as ever. And she welcomed me with wide open arms...


Inside the first hour of my arrival I was sitting down with a slice, a real honest-to-goodness slice (ok, I guess 'a slice' isn't completely accurate) and, of course, my favorite chaser: a Manhattan Special. Ahhhhhh- it feels good to be home. Everyone I saw was walking around shivering, but I couldn't have been happier. After I dropped my bags off at a friend's house in Brooklyn, I went right back to the train . Two transfers later- and what beeee-you-tee-ful, perfectly timed transfers they were- I was walking around, just taking in everything there was to see and hear and, most of all, feel on a December night in my fair city. It was exactly how I spent much of my trip. Everywhere I went- Union Square, Wall Street, Rockefeller Plaza, Times Square, Hells Kitchen- I could feel the electricity, the raw energy just flowing through me. If you've never walked around my City at night by yourself, just looking at everyone and everything, you may not get this. For me though, it was like White Heat- "Made it Ma! Top of the world!"


I had only a few food highlights while in town. I didn't get back to many of the old haunts; instead I nibbled everywhere I went. Since street food is tough to come by in southern Cal, I took advantage of everything I could-coffee and buttered rolls, pretzels, dogs, knish, ka-bobs- everything was fair game. Outside of all that, I think I ate my weight in pizza, bagels, and bread that weekend, more than I have had in a month in California.


Saturday morning, I stopped in to see the Keeper of the Wisdom (see "Time to Get My Guinea Up") and after spending a little time catching up, I went to my brother's place where we had a great spread covering just about all of his table- and for those of you 'in the know' use your imagination- if you can think of it, then it was on that table somewhere. Fresh roasted peppers, fresh mozz, provolone, prosciuto, cappicola, mortadella, soppresata... the list goes on and on. To me, though, the best part was the bread (all three kinds). I haven't had good bread since my last trip. But this wasn't good bread... this was great bread! Crisp crust, soft interiors, GREAT, GREAT flavor.


What else could I ask for?? Here I was having the quintessential Italian experience. Of course, so much of what it is we do is centered around a good meal... but that is always a great place to start- after all, good food=love, doesn't it? In so many ways, it was about the food, but more important was the company. I was with all of my brothers, my aunt came by with my cousins, and even my baby sister made an appearance (she is a tough one!!). We talked, laughed, shouted, ATE... if that isn't what being a good Guinea is all about, if that isn't the real Italian experience, then don't bother trying to tell me what is- I don't want it. There aren't many ways the day could have been any better than it was.


Even though we had spent the whole day eating, I was able to convince my younger brothers to drive me back to Brooklyn and join me for another meal. I had to get back to Schnack... I had to have more of those fries, that delicious, perfectly messy burger, and most of all, a Beer Milkshake. I skipped it last time I was in town and had regrets ever since. Let me tell you- even on a full stomach, Schnack was perfect... and I do mean perfect. I hooked up with a bunch of friends I hadn't seen in a while and about 15 of us stopped in to see Harry and the crew at Schnack. They accomodated our loud, raucous bunch with a nice long table and another great round of food. After my burger, fries, onion rings, and a couple of the RC Ribs I took from my brother's plate (older brother prerogative), I was ready to try my first Beer Milkshake. Everyone else was a little hesitant. Tell you what though, after one sip I knew I could file this one under the heading "Glad you don't like it- more for me". It was great. The taste was deep and rich. The sweet ice cream was the perfect foil to the beer... I immediately kicked myself for waiting so long.


We spent a good amount of time at Schnack doing more of what I had done all day... eat, drink, laugh, and share. What a great, great time.Schnack was a perfect final meal before I had to get on that plane. (Well, almost final- I'm sure you will be shocked to know that I managed to sneak in a little more Sunday morning on the way to the airport; I put down 2 everything bagels with lox and cream cheese and a loaf of lard bread from Mazzola with a big cup of coffee on the drive over)


I came back to Southern California with my batteries fully recharged after just 72 hours at home- happy head, happy heart, and happy stomach. Its like that nice little girl from Kansas once said, 'There ain't no place like home'... well- it was somethin' like that.


Home is not a house... home is a lot deeper than that (and some of us have more than one). If you want to be happy, then go "home"- wherever and whatever that means to YOU- and spend some time there doing the things that are important and with the people that are important. It's the only way. 'Cause Johnny Tomatoes says so!!

Go Fig-ure!

Ok- so my administrative skills could use some work... gonna need to hire someone to keep an eye on things around here. Coulda sworn I had posted this one months ago. (I know it says August 22, but I didn't really get this one up till early January) Anyway- better late than never.





I stopped at the farmers market on Sunday and made a great find. One of the vendors had Figs. Brought me back to the tree in my backyard in Brooklyn, a white fig tree that stood up surprisingly well against some harsh winters and put out some of the sweetest figs I've ever eaten.



So I bought a tray of these, hoping for the best but prepared for the worst... it was a mixed tray of Italian strawberry figs and black figs. After picking up a few more things, I headed home and made one quick stop at a deli on the way. Even if the figs were good, a little prosciutto would make them great. And then, if the figs weren't so good, I would at least have a little prosciutto to eat... either way, it would be a win for me.

I got home, poured a little something to go with them and dove in. I was shocked- here it was August, about a month ahead of what was usually the start of good figs from my old tree, and I was tearing through some of the best figs I had ever eaten. They were big and soft and perfectly ripe- inside was sweet as honey. They were promptly paired off with some of that thinly sliced prosciutto and devoured with little regard for fingers.


I tell ya- it was definitely the highlight of the day... maybe the week. The pair off was a little bit of perfection. A little salt, a little sweet... what else is there? A great flavor for late August. They were so good, I didn't save any for the grill... guess I'll have to get some more next week.





There is nothing like a nice mange after spending some time at the farmer's market. If the season is right and you're looking for a quick bite that will keep your mouth happy all day, you have to go with the figs and prosciutto. There really isn't a better way this time of year. 'Cause Johnny Tomatoes says so!

Time to get my Guinea up...

Here's a little something that SAB, keeper of the wisdom, sent my way... and just so you know, the qualifier at the beginning could have been much shorter; it would have covered everybody if it just said "all those who are Italian and all those who wish they were"... 'Cause Johnny Tomatoes says so!!



" CA PEES H "

Capeeshe Italiano........ I'm sending this out to every person I know who is Italian, could be Italian, married an Italian, lived with Italians or wants to be Italian......!!!!!

Let's start at the beginning. Come stai? Molto bene. Bon giorno. Ciao. Arrivederci. Every Italian from Italy knows these words and every Italian-American should. But what about the goomba speech pattern? Those words and phrases that are a little Italian, a little American, and a little slang . Words every Paesano and Baccia galoop we have heard, - words we hear throughout our Little Italy neighborhood of New York This form of language, the "Goomba-Italiano " has been used for generations. It's not gangster slang terms like "whack" or "vig", if that's what you are thinking---nope, this is real Guido talk!

The goomba says ciao when he arrives or leaves. He says Mama Mia anytime emotion is needed in any given situation. Mannaggia, meengya, oofah, and of course, va fongool can also be used. Capeesh? He uses a moppeen to wipe his hands in the cuchina, gets agita from the gravy and will shkeevats meatballs unless they are homemade from the famiglia. Always foonah your bread in the pot of gravy (sauce) or you will be considered a real googootz or a Mezzo-finookio.

There are usually plenty of mamalukes and the girl from the neighborhood with the reputation is a facia-bruta, puttana or a schifosa. If you are called cattivo, cabbadost, sfatcheem, stupido, or strunz, you are usually a pain in the ass.

A crazy diavlo can give you the malokya (evil eye), but that red horn (contra malokya) will protect you if you use it right. Don't forget to always say per favore and grazia and prego . If you are feeling mooshadda or stounad or mezzo-morto, always head to Nonna's and she will fix you up with a little homemade manicott', cavadell', or calamar ', or some ricotta cheesecake. Mangia some zeppoles, canolis, torrone, struffoli, shfoolyadell', pignoli cookies, or a little nutella on pannetone. Delizioso! I think I will fix myself a sangweech of cabacol' with some proshoot and mozarell' or maybe just a hot slice of peetza .

So salud' if you have any Italian blood in you and you understood anything written here! Then, you are numero uno and a professore of the goombas If you don't get any of this, then fa Nabola with the whole thing and you are a disgraziato. Scuzi, Mia dispiachay, I didn't mean that....... Just....... Fugheddaboudit

Summertime... and the livin' is easy...

Sorry for this not so brief hiatus. Summer hit and the barbecues have started. And of course so has the senseless slaughter of the little grey cells in the noggin. After all, you do need somthin' to wash down all the dogs, burgers, chicken, and ribs... and then its lunch time. I do love a good early turn at the grill. Everyone thinks I'm outta my mind eating like that at 8 in the morning, but the clock in my stomach is still set three hours ahead of the locals, so it all falls in line. And besides that, what do they know? They still think beer before noon is sacrilege. Hey- it's five o'clock somwhere!


I sat down thinking this was going to be a quick post, but since I'm here already, might as well give you a glimpse at the Big Guy's summer diet. Generally, the burger-and-dog thing (either or both, depending on the previous night) is a great starter for the day- nice and fast, chase it with a pint out of the tap and the day is rolling in the right direction. After the foundation is down, you can start to think about the more involved meals for later in the day.


After breakfast, I like to get things prepped for the rest of the day. I always figure that doing more work early on gives me more time to relax in the pool with a pitcher or two (or three) of Margarita’s. And I do make a killer Margarita- who knows, I may even share the recipe later. Ok- so first I start with three racks of baby back ribs. (3 racks? of course 3... the Big Guy never likes to eat alone) I like to trim them a little, and put a nice starter cut alongside the bone to save me from having to find it later. I have a great dry rub- little of this and a little of that (come on- you didn't think I was gonna give away that one, did ya??) and I like to put a good coating on the ribs, massage it in and let it sit on for a few hours before I cook them.


While the ribs are gettin' all happy with their little flavor party, I move on to the ladies. Depending on the crowd, I figure two is enough to entertain everyone. I like to grab 'em by the legs and lay 'em on their backs and go right to work... stripping the legs, the thighs, the breasts... hey wait- I'm talkin' about chickens here... where was your head at??!!?! ...So anyways, like I was sayin', once I have them out into all their pieces (usually 10 pieces- cutting the breasts in half, but more about why later), they go into a covered bowl and can sit in the fridge until about an hour before I'm ready to eat.


Ok- now it's time to get the ribs cookin'. I get a nice fire going with the charcoal in the chimney. Then I set a couple of handfuls of wood chips in a big bowl of water. I like to use a combination of chips for my ribs; usually apple and maple, or cherry and pear. Once the coals are good and hot, I set them up for a little indirect heat in piles on either side of my trusty Weber kettle and top the coals with the soaked chips. The ribs go on the rack at 11 am and the cover stays on for about 3 hours with just the slightest venting on the top and bottom. My great grandfather, Paulie, always said things need to be cooked low and slow- it'll be worth the wait. And he was definitely right about that... by the time you take these out of the smoke, that meat won't be falling off the bone, it'll be jumpin' off!


Now that we have set the wheels in motion for the mid-afternoon mange and have the main prep work finished for dinner, time to take care of lunch. I like a nice sangwich for lunch in the summer. And I can't think of a better way to go than with sausage and peppers. I have this guy... he makes a great parsley and cheese sausage, nice and thin, perfect for the grill. But before I get that going, I need to slice some onions, peppers, and a couple of potatoes. Throw it all into a big pan with some olive oil, some salt and pepper and start coking 'em. And don't forget what Paulie says- low and slow. You don't want to take a chance on crisping these; a long slow cook will draw the sugars out, the perfect counterpart to the sausage. Once these are started, it's time to get the sausage on the grill.

Gotta keep this low and slow too, so it doesn't burst and bleed off all the good juices. After the peppers, onions, and potatoes are softened up, it's time to start making the sanguinies... open up a good roll (and by roll, I mean roll.. not bun- that would be a hanging offense), lay in some sausage and add a nice scoop out of the pan right on top. And don’t skimp- the peppers may get second billing here, but it wouldn't be the same without a nice pile on top. I'll tell ya what- you'll know you did it right if your hands are a mess when you're eating it. Don't bother cleaning it up till after you're definitely done. And by the way- that mess is delicious; I never waste a napkin.


And so we find ourselves at the first intermission, a little lull in the action. Seems a highly appropriate time to mix the first pitcher of Margarita’s. And now, if you promise to just keep it between us, I'll tell you how to make a great Margarita. The key to a great Margarita is simple: quality ingredients. A great tequila is essential. As a minimum for quality you need to start with something like Sauza Hornitos or if you must go with a Cuervo product, try the Tradicional. Second, get yourself a bottle of Cointreau. And then we come to the sour-mix, easy enough to make on your own. So... here we go- 5 parts sour mix, 1 part Cointreau, 2 parts Tequila (using a 2 cup standard, it's 1.25 C, 0.25 C, and 0.5 C respectively)...a squeeze of blood orange right on top... put it into a shaker tin, shake vigorously and strain into an ice filled glass, with or without salt. Drain. Repeat. (Follow these last two steps as often as necessary)


Now that we're all feelin' so niiice... time to get the ribs off the smoke. Depending on how tenacious I am feeling, I may glaze the racks with some fresh made barbecue sauce and let it bake on in the grill, but only for a few minutes. When you sit down to go to work on these, its going to be a mess, too, like the sangwiches. And in much the same way, don't bother with the napkins till after you're done. Even then, why waste all that goodness?


At this point, it's time for pitcher number 2 (at least) and a little dip in the pool to cool down. I like to spend a little time floating around, digest a little, and let myself wind down. It's mid-afternoon and just one more meal left on the day. After the way the day has already gone, good thing it's only a light meal of chicken and some corn on the cob.


I like to wait till the sun starts getting low in the sky before I get my chicken on the grill. I take it out of the fridge and set it out on a big baking sheet with the pieces all linked up like a big game of Tetris. I prep them the way Mom taught me so many years ago with a good coating of coarse Kosher salt. I let them sit for about 10 minutes or so and use the time to put a few inches of water in a big pot and set it to boil. As a general rule, I don't boil my corn. I like it steamed; it seems to retain a little more body in the kernels and not shrivel up after coming out of the boil. Once I get a boil going, I throw the corn in and cover it for 9 minutes... not 8, not 10; 9.


After one last rinse for the chicken and a quick pat dry with a towel, it's onto a nice hot grill they go. Chicken is ruined by so many rookies... either burned over a flame that is way too hot or dried out and over cooked out of fear of a visit from that lovely couple, Sam and Ella. That's bush league stuff. It's easy to avoid this. First, make sure the pieces are as uniform in size as possible. As I mentioned previously, this is why we whack the breasts in half. Second, be sure to cook over a medium high flame and keep the pieces moving every few minutes. I always find that the more I turn my chicken, the more likely I am to get great chicken.


Wings and backs will, of course, always be done first. These fall under the "Chef's Prerogative" rule. These are open for consumption by the chef and anyone he chooses to share the booty with. These pieces need not ever make it to the main platter. (It's a rule. No; really... it is!!) After the last turn that sets them skin side up, it's time to hit them with the sauce. Dab a good coating on with a quality brush, close the top and let it bake on. Once the glaze is baked on nicely, I set the chicken out on large platters and watch it disappear. Always great to watch the bowls fill with bare bones and gnawed cobs.


After the sun is down, it's time to move from Margarita’s to the good stuff, straight up. Shots of tequila and whiskey get poured. But this is the sippin' kind... not built for slamming back, take your time and enjoy it. I always say have a few; after a day of eating like this, a hangover is going to be easy compared to how the rest of your body feels.


And if you have the right group, all the fun is just starting... but that's probably better left for another post.


So there you have it; a blueprint for any given Summer day. If it's a barbecue you want, you have to start early and keep it going strong all day. There is no other way to do it. 'Cause Johnny Tomatoes says so!!