Posted on 11/26/2005 7:32:00 AM PST by carlo3b
Christmas Memories, Cookies, Candies, and Desserts
For me, it was the official start of the Christmas season, seeing the matriarchs gather in coffee klatches and recipes exchanges. As a little tike, anything that signaled the approach of Christmas was enough to cause excitement around our home. Watching my great-grandmother summon the elderly women of our family and neighborhood, was a sure sign that big things were heating up in our little kitchen. These beautiful women were dignified and almost aristocratic in their black mourning dresses, with clouded stockings, and clumpy shoes. I can still recall the gentle scent of lavender and rose perfumes as they shuffled to their places around our modest kitchen table. Those mixtures of colognes and coffee were far from the only wonderful smells that began to fill our home and hearts at this glorious time of the year. Fabulous homemade Italian pastries were a right of passage for these gatherings. Baking for the clan was a near sacred honor that my great-grandmother cherished..
We were a typical nuclear family for those times. A working man, my great-uncle, a stay at home wife, my-great aunt, my retired great-grandmother, and great-grandfather, and of course yours truly. Our familial arrangement was not unique, most households had extended family members, and everyone had a place on the clan hierarchy. Women generally ruled the roost, and menfolk earned the bacon. Grandmothers, at least in my family, routinely prepared the meals. Wives raised the offspring and kept the house, meaning the housework and shopping, and those lucky enough to have grandpas, had the benefit of wisdom and history that could only come from invaluable, accumulated life experiences, and vivid recollections..
Our homes were mostly small walk-up apartments, located in the bowels of the inner city of Chicago. They were called, "cold water flats", meaning each apartment had to make their own hot water with a silver colored water heater tanks, located in a convenient corner of the kitchen. If you wanted hot water you had to turn it on and cautiously feel the sides of the tank to see how close it was becoming hot. It was surely crude, but efficient enough to accomplish the job so nobody complained. However, you had to be mindful, not to forget to turn the tank off when the task was complete, the explosive consequences were all too frightening and frequent..
If you were lucky, as we were, you had heat furnished by a landlord in the form of cast iron coiled radiators. The heat was generated by coal fired furnaces, located in dark damp cellars. These subterranean dungeons were also called "the basement", which also housed whatever passed for a clothes washers in those days. I mostly remember those radiators, because they clanged from expanding heat filled pipes on cold winter mornings as we waited for the heat to raise to a reasonable warmth to venture out from under our heavy blankets. The radiators were sparsely placed, usually in the busiest areas of the home. We often warmed and dried clothes on this solitary heat source on frigid winter mornings. More than once I left my chilled trousers on too long, and burned myself on an overheated zipper. Chicago winters were especially cold, and flimsy windows were typically drafty. What was a blessing in the stifling summer heat, a window or skylight, was truly a detriment on cold winter nights.
A single low wattage light bulb hung conspicuously over the center of the white porcelain topped kitchen table. The light cord had a protruding plug for connecting a clothes iron. The light had an on-off string which dangled down low enough so the shortest member of the family could reach it. Every home had an icebox, with a small refrigerated compartment, and a square slot that held a cube of solid ice. The ice block needed to be replenished at least once a week by a gentleman who was aptly named, "the iceman". He carried the heavy block of ice 3 flights of stairs from his waterlogged horse drawn wagon. The gas cooking stove was a 4 burner antique, with an unregulated double oven that could only be lit with a stick match. The kitchen sink was one compartment with a long drain board. It had a single cold water faucet and a sturdy garden hose that connected it to the hot water tank. All of this was crude and simple by today's standards, but it was all that was needed to prepare at least two meals a day, a hardy breakfast, and a scrumptious 4 course, made-from-scratch dinner.
The homemade meals, complete with fresh bread were prepared with meticulous care each and every day, rain or shine. Needless to say, from this dim, sparsely equipped kitchen that made cooking and baking for our large family gatherings all that more remarkable. I learned to cook standing on a kitchen chair at that humble stove, under the watchful eye of my loving great-grandmother. She stood under 5 feet, but she was a giant to all that knew her. I think of her every day when I shamefully complain as the time comes to prepare my family meals at my fully equipped gourmet kitchen..
Our bathroom was small and simple. It had a top tank, gravity flushing toilet that sported a pull chain with a ivory handle. The lavatory was a tiny cold water basin that had circular chips from some unknown historic calamity, and a claw footed bathtub that was enormous, with a rubber plug on a chain.. The hot water had to be bucketed in from the kitchen sink, which was unfortunately located at the far end of the adjoining room. The bucket brigade took 2 people, 3 loads each. There was a small gas heater that furnished plenty of heat on the floor, but the small whitewashed window above the tub had a constant whistling from frigid air that seemed to be unobstructed and unending. It made standing for towel drying an olympic speed event..
The apartment had 2 small bedrooms, each only large enough to hold a double bed, and squatty art deco styled dresser. Each dresser was equipped with a mirror and on it's polished top lay assorted decorative perfume bottles and each had a matching sterling silver brush set, which was dutifully arranged at all times. The front room of the home was in reality, our living room, although we hardly ever lived there. The long narrow room held a large sofa, which doubled as my bed, a matching side chair, a huge floor model radio, and a mufti-bulb lamp with a oversized shade with dangling decorative fringe. An imposing chandelier hung prominently in the center of the vaulted ceiling. The floors were all buffed wood, and covered with assorted throw rugs that forever gathered under foot traffic. Our kitchen floor was covered with a patterned linoleum that had long ago began to show a well worn path. The bathroom was a beautifully tiled mosaic, in alternating black and white octagon shapes. At strategic locations were yellowed photographs of unknown origins in various shaped ornate frames, and on every flat surface aside from the kitchen were dozens of tiny knickknacks, and candles..
We lived in 4 simple rooms, but I never thought of it in those terms. In my mind it was a mansion, filled with love and devotion to one another. We were near penniless but rich with respectability and honor. We had all that we needed and enough left over to share with others. Everyone I knew loved me, and I loved and respected each of them. The family expected the best from me and I did my best to fulfill my duty to my good name, in their well deserved honor..
Just recalling these golden, olden days is a treasure in itself, because it brings me back to an era that laid the foundation of my life and that of my own family. It reminds me of the importance we placed and the respect we had for the generational roots and traditions that were instilled at an early age. Those roots were planted deep and would ultimately shape my character. Cooking and baking wasn't just food in our home, it was our women's only gift to give. These recipe choosing assemblages were not called just to pick the heirloom cookies that were going to dominate their lives for the month leading up to Christmas. This was a time-honored task and was the solemn obligation our women placed in making their modest but treasured gifts so very special. Those dear aged women demonstrated their devotion to the family not by buying our presents, but by caring for us, the giving of themselves with their own loving hands..
The men of our family proudly gave up their youth, much too early in life and they did it voluntarily. They fought for their country on distant battlefields they couldn't even pronounce. They risked their lives to insure a freedom for a future they couldn't be sure they would live to enjoy. When they returned, they worked tirelessly to support a fine family of their own. These hardy men gave us an honorable name and a high bar in which to strive. They each raised respectable children that proved what they were made of. Our forefathers scratched an indelible place in our history and in our hearts. They earned our love, our gratitude, and our everlasting respect..
The stalwarts of our family, our beautiful women, have given us our sense of worth, our humanity, the true meaning of love for family. Their selfless sacrifice, placed a high value on sharing, fairness, and a soft simple abiding love. Their talent was devotion, their legacy was in the future of the family traditions passed on in perpetuity.. It is in their name I pass many of my family recipes on to you, for you to share with your family, and hopefully with others far and wide.. Enjoy.. Carlo
MERRY CHRISTMAS, AND GOD BLESS YOU,
GOD BLESS AMERICA.
THANK you so much...this is similar to some I've tried- but am always up for a new one!
Yes indeed, that is right on target.. They had bakery crumbs as well that my family would buy for pennies and bring them home and separate the cookies from the cake, and press the cookie crumbs into pie shells.. :).. We would pick out the big chips first and eat them before they got smashed..
Wow, that reminds me of another fascinating story (I can see the eyes rolling), You folks are lucky, if my old man stories get too boring, all you have to do is click it off.. But my poor kids, and grand kids have to sit and listen to me.. Hahahhaha
OK once upon a time.. LOL When we were really young, say the late '40's my Italian neighborhood was the forerunner of many of the now famous Italian Food Icons.. Salerno Bakeries, Papa Leones, Luigi Davino's, Pompei, and the matriarch of frozen foods, Mama Celeste Lizio, of Celeste Foods International.
Mama Celeste and her family had a small Pizzeria near our home, she and all of the kids had a real booming business that was more of a neighborhood cafe than a restaurant.. This of course was years before she and her wonderful family became the world famous forerunner of the Frozen Pizza's and Pasta industry..
She was more than the cook, she was just a typical mom to many of us. So when we were "a snack" kind of hungry, or going to the show on Saturday mornings we would stop off at Mama Celeste's to pick up something, cheap of course. She would make us a "Gravy Sandwich", about 1/3 of a loaf of homemade French bread, probably from Salerno's, slice it lengthwise and ladle her wonderful Italian meat sauce over it, (10 cents)..
The smell of garlic would permeate the wax paper that wrapped it and even the brown paper bag that held it.. Thus with the Italian and Jewish kids showing up with their pre packed bag lunches of Celeste Gravy sandwiches, sticks of imported Pepperoni and Kosher Red Hots (hot dogs) they changed the name of the Saturday Matinee (not very PC) at our local theater, to: "The Grease Ball Matinee"!!!
What a small, small world.. sigh.. :)
oh this is great! a fried dough recipe. my italian husband LOVED his mom's fried dough, but she is gone now and i had no idea how to make it (being of eastern european extraction, myself). i am going to make this as a surprise for him. THANK YOU!
No, thank you for baking our recipe, and coming back and telling everyone.. Makes me somewhat of a Chef Rock Star.. kinda guy.. LOLOL
They need to turn those buzzards up-side-down, and shake'm to get the White House silver back where it belongs.. LOL
VANILLA ALMOND DIPPERS Yummmm if you love almond cookies, as I do, and you can't eat enough vanilla, as I do, then you will faint over these babies.. :)
Preheat oven to 350
- 5 c. flour
- 2 c. butter (softened)
- 1 c. sugar
- 1 c. ground almonds
- 4 egg yolks
- Vanilla extract for dipping
1) Mix flour and butter. Add sugar. Mix well.
2) Add almonds and egg yolks, blend well.
3) Roll into manageable cylinder (cigar) shaped lengths on wax paper. Cover and refrigerate to chill dough.
4) Then cut in 1 1/2 inch lengths. Quarter each length to form "logs".
5) Dip two sides in vanilla extract and then granulated sugar.
Bake at 350 to 375 degrees for 10 to 15 minutes until set and very light brown.
STRAWBERRY JAM AND CHEESE COOKIES Preheat oven to 350
- 1 c. cottage cheese
- 1 c. butter
- 2 c. flour
- Thick strawberry jam or jelly or any flavor of your choice
- Powdered sugar
1) Mix together everything but jelly and sugar.
Leave in refrigerator for a least 2 hours.
2) Roll out dough and cut into 3 to 4 inch squares.
3) Spoon jam on center of each squar. Bring up corners to meet in center and pinch together.
Bake until golden brown (25 minutes) at 350 degrees.
Roll in powdered sugar.
Best when eaten the same day, but I doubt that will be any problem.. :)
Deep and fearsome were the ghosts and spirits (which by everyone's account were also the most fun to hear); but he reserved his most gentle and joyful voice for Tiny Tim. Some of us heard only parts of the story as we fell asleep on the floor before the evenings reading was complete.
Oh how I would like to go back inside to the warmth and fall asleep on the floor with a gentle voice saying "God Bless us everyone."
FUTTIE NUTTIES Cut these bad boys into small squares, because it's so rich. It makes a huge pan of candies, which freeze well too
* 12 oz. pkg. semisweet chocolate chips
* 12 oz. pkg. butterscotch chips
* 2 cups peanut butter
* 2 cups roasted peanuts
* 1 cup butter
* 1/2 cup light cream
* 3 oz. pkg. vanilla pudding mix (NOT instant)
* 2 lbs. pkg. powdered sugar
* 1 tsp. vanillaButter a 15x10" jelly roll pan and set aside.
1) In a large saucepan, melt chocolate chips and butterscotch chips until smooth, stirring frequently.
2) Remove from heat and add peanut butter, stirring until mixture is melted and smooth.
3) Spread half of this mixture into the prepared pan and refrigerate. Stir peanuts into remaining chocolate mixture in saucepan and set aside.
4) In another large heavy saucepan, combine butter and evaporated milk over medium heat, stirring until melted.
5) Stir in the pudding mix and stir over medium heat until mixture thickens slightly. Do not let the mixture come to a boil.
6) Remove pan from heat and beat in powdered sugar, using a mixer. Then add vanilla and blend.
Let this mixture cool for 15 minutes.
7) Then spread pudding mixture over the solidified chocoalte mixture in the jelly roll pan.
Chill for 30-40 minutes until firm.
8) Then drop reserved chocolate and peanut mixture over pudding layer and spread to cover.
Chill bars until firm, about 2 hours, then cut into bars. Store in refrigerator.
Makes about 48 bars
I have another Christmas story...not a story about family tradition, per se, but a rather humorous story about my family, something that happened only once, but remained a story to be told, time and again and laughed about time and again...so the telling of the story itself is the tradition....
As I mentioned, I was born and raised in Chicago, as was my mom...however, my dad was born in Philadelphia, with some of his dads relatives living in Philly, but the majority of dads moms relatives(an extremely large extended family), living in a little town in New Jersey, just across the Delaware River from Pennsylvania...dad met mom in Chicago, while he was in the army, they married and after WW2 dad settled down with mom in Chicago...so altho we lived in Chicago, every three years we drove back east for a few weeks to visit with the family...
Now dads favorite uncle, was Uncle Oscar...he was the youngest of my great grandmothers 12 children...he lived in the big house, with great grammie(he was the only one of the 12 that never married), and took care of the manly chores and earned a paycheck, while the various daughters of great grammie,all took their turns cooking and cleaning and doing the laundry in the big house...
Now Uncle Oscar was quite a character...outspoken, funny as anything, a big drinker, and a confirmed bachelor...however all his life he had a girlfriend, Marion, who lived on the other side of town...one year, just before Christmas,when I was probably about 14, Oscar had a big argument with Marion(which was a common occurence)...whenever they had one of their big arguments, Oscar would disappear for a few days...usually he went up into the hills, into the backwoods, found some of his favorite little bars, and holed up there for a few days, drinking and pouting, until he got over whatever it was that caused the big old fight between he and Marion...so whenever he disappeared for a few days, no one in the family worried or was bothered about it...this was just Oscars way, from the time he was a young man, until he was an old man...so on this particular few days before Christmas, Oscar pondered disappearing again, after his fight with Marion...
However another idea popped into his mind...he decided that since it was near Christmas, he would hop on a train in Trenton, N.J., and take the train to Chicago, ,and visit us and spend the Christmas holiday with us...but he could not find our address...so he telephone one of his sisters, living in Philly, and wanted our address...my great auntie, being forever nosey, wanted to know why he wanted our address...he said he was going to visit us...she said, "oh, you are not"...(auntie always thought she knew what everyone was going to do, ahead of time)..but he insisted, she eventually she game him an address...
We do not know exactly what transpired on the phone...that issue went into debate between the two of them, entered in by the rest of the family, and the debate of what happened, went on until their deaths...here is the crux of the debate...we lived in Chicago, on a street, whose number address was 1817...now Oscar, when found, had written our address down with the numbers being 1718....he always claimed that his sister, on purpose to make him mad, gave him the wrong address...she claimed that he was so drunk, that altho she gave him the correct number, he, in his drunken stupor, wrote the numbers down wrong...who said what during that phone call, and who got the numbers wrong, is the thing that family folklore traditions are made of...
So Oscar, armed with an incorrect address written down on a paper in his pocket, packed his bags, and headed off for Trenton to catch a train to Chicago...drunk as he was when he got on the train, he was probably even drunker when he got off...by this time it was about 1am, on Christmas morning...all of us were sound asleep in Chicago, us kids waiting for the big day to begin...little did we realize, our day would begin in just a short while...
Oscar arrives in Chicago around 1am, Christmas morning...he gets a cab, and gives him the address of 1718(and then our street name)...of course, that is not where we live, its one block south of where we live...the cab arrives, Oscar pays the fare, grabs his bags, and climbs up the steps to ring the bell...(he does not know this is not our house, as he never visited us in Chicago before, but no matter, he is secure with the 'address' in his pocket)
By this time it is near 2am in the morning of Christmas day...he rings the bell...of course, all the folks in the house are sound asleep...finally all of Oscars banging on the bell wakes them up..they look out the window, dont recognize Uncle Oscar, and just assume its a drunk(because of the way Oscar is acting)...so they just dont acknowledge him, and think he will go away...but Uncle Oscar is persistent...receiving no answer at the front door, he proceeds around back, and stands in the back yard, hollering and screaming for my dad to come down and get him..."Hey, Jackie boy, I know you are in there, open the door", is what was reported to us, that he was hollering...
Now this family gets upset and frightened, and call the police because someone is in their backyard, threatening them, and disturbing the peace...the police show up, get Oscar, drag him into the Paddy Wagon, and cart him down to the local police station...there Oscar attempts to explain what is going on...the police can see he is drunk, disoriented, and unfamiliar completely with Chicago, and does not even know where his nephew(my dad ), lives...but its now 3am Christmas morning, and the police are kind hearted, and in the Christmas spirit try to help my uncle, rather than locking him up Christmas...so they get my dads full name from Oscar, and get out the huge Chicago telephone book...and my dad had a very common first and last name, so they had columns and columns of names to search...finally the found a man with my dads name living on the street that Oscar wanted, but with the numbers close to the address Oscar had, but not exact...so the police took a chance and telephone our house...
Now getting a phone call anytime at 3am is scarey, as one always thinks something awful has happened...but a phone call at 3am on Christmas morning was doubly scarey...dad answer the phone, and the police asked him if he had an Uncle Oscar, from New Jersey...dad answered yes...and the police explained the situation, and would dad come down to the police station and get Uncle Oscar, who by this time, from his long journey, his extensive drinking, and his lack of sleep, was beginning to get delirious(and I suspect, they just wanted to be rid of him)...so dad just laughed, and said, hold him, I will be right down there...
Dad got us all up, and the whole time laughing, said we were all going to the police station to fetch Uncle Oscar...oh, it was so exciting..we kids were not able to sleep anyway, it being the long Christmas Eve nite, so it was quite the adventure to throw our coats and boots on over our pjs and head out to the police station...
Dad got Oscar out, and with the police waving us a fond farewell, ,and wishing us Merry Christmas(and they never charged Uncle Oscar with anything), we drove home, plopped Uncle Oscar into the guest bed, and let him sleep it off...
By dinner time, Uncle Oscar was sober, and glad to be with us for Christmas...we had a grand time with him, ,as he was always so entertaining, and fun...Oscar insisted that my dad take several pictures of him with us, as he said that when he got back home to New Jersey, and told them he went to Chicago to visit us, no one would believe him(because him disappearing after the Marion fights was a common occurence)...so dad took many pics...then by 5 or 6pm on Christmas nite, Oscar decided it was time to head back to New Jersey...he went through all that trouble, just to be with us for a few hours...so we all took Oscar down to Union Station, got him a train ticket, and sent him on his way back to New Jersey...
When he got back to New Jersey, he called his sister in Philly, to chew her out for giving him the wrong address, for my dad in Chicago...my aunt first of swore that he gave him the correct address, and that he must have written it down wrong, because he was drunk...when he told her, that he had been to Chicago, and got into trouble because of that wrong address, my aunt called him a liar...in fact, no one in the big extended family, believed that Oscar had come to Chicago for the day...they all thought he was just pulling their leg..however, when my dad sent the pics he took that day, ,they all had to apologize to Oscar...
That incident took on enormous proportions in the family...every Christmas, all the nuclear families within the large extended family told and retold this story of Oscars visit to Chicago...and everyone has their own personal theory as to how Oscar wrote down the incorrect address, and what might be the motives behind this...and Oscar and his sister argued about this until the day he died...but the story lives on, passed down to my son, ,and passed down to all the generations of our family...
Its our very own personal 'Christmas Story'....
When we had the opportunity, fore snow in early December was only a hope and never a promise, we waited for just the right day to trek off into the woods with axe, hatchet and saw. We were not alway the best dressed for the occasion. Although we had warm enough coats we had some difficulty with the rest of our gear.
Boots, the hook and eyetype, never seemed to fit right. They were either a couple of sizes toolarge or one size too small. Getting on the large ones was no problem but you risked having them pulled off your feet in the first snow bank. If they were too tight you could force your feet in by using a well placed piece of wax paper at your heel, but getting them off again could be a strain.
I had a unique problem with my boots; I usually had them on the wrong foot. A fact that everyone but I found pretty funny.
It was difficult for us to get into and out of the woods without someone loosing at least one glove
In the woods with the wet heavy snow silently falling and the smell of the fresh cut pine it was magical, like being part of a scene from a Christmas card. It was one of the best treats of the season, right up there with a ride on the old farm sleigh that Uncle Bill pulled with his Jeep or eating one of Grandmoms homemade donuts.
As we dragged the tree home, with gloves dropping and boots being sucked from our feet, we could already picure how beautiful it would look when decorated with our favorite ornaments, tinsel and bright colorful lights.
Yes indeed.. We begin to taste our food with our eyes first before ever putting into our mouths.. Thanks for reminding us .. :)
You can use any kind of salted nuts or crunchy seeds that you'd like in this easy recipe.
* 2 cups sugar
* 1 cup light corn syrup
* 1/2 cup water
* 1 cup unsalted butter (do not substitute)
* 2 cups salted pre roasted pumpkin seeds, (or shelled pistachio nuts, walnuts, pecans..)
* 1 tsp. baking sodaButter 2 cookie sheets and set aside.
1) In heavy 3-quart saucepan, combine sugar, corn syrup and water.
Cook over low heat, stirring frequently, until mixture comes to a full rolling boil. This will take 15-25 minutes.
2) Then add butter. Cover pan for 1-2 minutes to allow the steam to wash down any sugar crystals on sides of pan.
3) Clip a candy thermometer to the side of the pan with the bulb touching the syrup, but not touching the sides or bottom of pan.
Cook and stir until a candy thermometer reaches 280 degrees F.
You can test without a candy thermometer by dropping a small amount of candy into some cold water forms a hard but pliable strand.
4) Then stir in pumpkin seeds and continue cooking, stirring constantly, until candy thermometer reaches 305 degrees F or until a bit of candy dropped into cold water forms a brittle strand.
5) Remove pan from heat and stir in baking soda (mixture will foam up, so be ready and be careful), stirring well.
Pour onto prepared cookie sheets and spread until candy is 1/4" thick.
Cool completely, then break into pieces and store in tightly covered container. Makes 2 pounds.
HOMEMADE TOOTIE ROLLS Please made these with your kids.. If you don't have any of those thingys of your own.. just borrow a few.. LOL
* 1 oz. square unsweetened chocolate
* 1 Tbs.. butter
* 1/4 cup dark corn syrup
* 1/2 tsp. vanilla
* 1-1/3 cups sifted powdered sugar
* 6 Tbs.. instant nonfat milk powderPlace chocolate and butter in 4 cup glass measuring cup with a handle.
1) Microwave, uncovered, at high power for at least 1 minute, stirring once during cooking time, until chocolate is melted.
2) Stir in corn syrup and vanilla.
3) Return to microwave and cook on high power for 1 minute.
4) Remove from microwave and mix in 1 cup powdered sugar.
5) Add the instant milk powder and stir thoroughly.
6) Turn mixture onto waxed paper that has been sprinkled with the rest of the powdered sugar.
7) Knead candy until stiff, adding as much powdered sugar as necessary to form a stiff but pliable dough.
Divide candy into four parts, then roll each part into pencil-size strips.
Cut each strip into 10 pieces and wrap in waxed paper.
You may need to refrigerate the candy to set.
40 pieces
Thank you for the nice Christmas gift of memory.
Good for you.. Now really get his motor going.. Make this for him.. He will think he's in an Italian Paradise.. :)
CLASSICAL SAUCE BOLOGNESE There exist as many versions of the sauce as there are cooks in Bologna Italy. The recipe can vary in proportions or in the addition of certain ingredients, but the basic recipe remains the same - one to which cooks add their own personal touches!
Pasta with Bolognese sauce is served as a first course or as a side dish with breaded veal scaloppini. But whatever the menu, don't forget to pour a glass of Lambrusco, a wine from the region.
Even though this sauce is usually paired with spaghetti, it is also good with tagliatelle or lasagna.
Other frequent additions
- 14 oz. ground meat (veal, pork, beef, sausage meat or a combination)
- 4 cloves of garlic, minced
- 4 Tbs.. olive oil, or 2 Tbs.. oil and 2 Tbs. Pure butter
- 3 - 4 onions, finely chopped
- 1 lb. 12 oz. peeled tomatoes -
- 2 to 3 spoonfuls tomato paste
- 3 bay leaves
- 1 small carrot, cut into small dice
- 1 celery stalk, finely chopped
- 1/2 cup white or red wine
- Salt and freshly ground pepper
- Fresh grated Parmesan for serving
1) Prepare a "battuto", in other words, chop all the vegetables (don't forget to remove the "strings" from the celery before chopping);
- 1 oz. pancetta, cut into small pieces
- A slice of smoked ham
- Basil (preferably fresh), thyme or oregano
- 1 cup) beef broth
- 3 Tbs.. cream (15%)
2) Sauté the onion, carrot and celery over low heat in oil (or oil and butter); sweat the vegetables until they color slightly;
3) Add the garlic, stirring well with a wooden spoon;
4) Add the ground meat and cook over low heat, breaking the meat up with a fork.
5) Season with salt and pepper; deglaze with the white or red wine; increase the heat and cook until the wine has evaporated.
6) Add the quartered tomatoes and the tomato paste, thinned with a little tomato juice, water or broth.
7) Season with the bay leaves and basil, if using, and combine well.
Increase the heat to medium so that the sauce boils gently; cover the pot and let simmer for two to three hours, adding more broth as necessary.
If you are using cream, add it an hour before the end of the cooking time; remove the bay leaves before serving. The cream will tend to cut some of the tomato's acidity.
Chef's tips
We've suggested a simmering time of two to three hours, but if you have the time, let the sauce simmer over low heat for four to six hours. The principle is simple: the longer the sauce simmers, the richer the flavor and consistency become. Be sure to stir it regularly so that it doesn't stick., always using a wooden spoon. Metal can oxidize in contact with tomato and leave an unpleasant metallic taste.
o 1 lb. lean ground beef
o 2 Tbs. dried chopped onion
o 1/2 chopped onion 3 slices bacon, fried and chopped
o 3 eggs
o 1/2 cup mayonnaise
o 1/4 cup Double cream
o 1/4 cup water
o 8 oz. Grated cheeses (I used a mixture of cheddar and mozzarella)
o garlic powder to taste (optional)
o salt and pepper (to taste)
Preheat oven to 350°F.
1) Brown the beef and chopped onion, drain grease.
2) Put browned meat and onion into a deep dish pie pan. Mash around bottom of pan like a crust.
3) Scatter bacon bits evenly across the "crust" of ground beef.
4) Combine eggs, mayonnaise, cream and water in mixer bowl and whip until smooth.
5) Add grated cheese and mix well. Pour mixture evenly over beef "crust" and bake for 30-35 minutes until top is browned and "set".
Cool a few minutes before slicing.
It is great reheated in microwave for breakfast too!
LowCarb is a trademark name, and copyrighted by Morelli Enterprises Inc.
Bwhahahahahahah .. I love that story.. I've heard it before I think, but it was a bit different.. I heard Uncle OScar arrived in Chicago and everyone in Chicago was Drunk including the big Irish Cops and the cabdriver, Richard, who later became the Mayor for life... LOLOLOL
Thats how stories change in the telling I guess.. BLESS YOU DEAR GIRL.. thank you for making this Christmas that much more special.. HUGGG :)
Dear GOD, I love Christmas stories almost as much as I love you fabulous folks.. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for just being here.. sigh.. :)
I cannot imagine who told you that story with drunk Irish cops, and the cabdriver actually being the man who become Mayor Daley...I did tell this story once on FR, a few years back, but it never included the big Irish drunk cops and the mayor driving the cab...that part never happened...
I guess you are right...someone took my story, ,and embellished it...stories do grow in the telling...
But it did happen, ,just the way I told it...
I should go into my garage and drag out the tons of photo albums I have there...I know, somewhere, in one of those albums, are the pics of us and Uncle Oscar...
Glad you enjoyed that story...
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