Posted on 10/31/2002 11:16:35 PM PST by carlo3b
The voyage of the Mayflower in 1620 from Plymouth England, to Plymouth Rock started as a journey to find peace and justice in a new world. It began as a fervent prayer to give freedom a chance, and remains today as the promise each year for a new beginning. Thanksgiving Day is a celebration of hope, and remembrance.
Today, we bring our families and friends together to share our tables and our hearts, and give thanks for all that we have to be grateful for in our new and glorious country. From this grand experiment and it's courageous settlers, to the greatest nation of the world, we have a lot to be thankful for, indeed.My earliest memory of Thanksgiving was the fuss of preparation of the wonderful food being prepared in advance of our holiday feast. Being a traditional Italian American, midwestern home, a full cornucopia of cookies of every ethnicity was in abundance. Thanksgiving morning was a special treat with a home filled with the scent of baking bread, and roasted turkey which transformed our tiny cold water flat in "Little Italy" on the lower East side of Chicago into a 3 room palace. Everyone was involved, family and friends, young and old, with 4 generations of our own majestic women. An unspoken but respected hierarchy prevailed, with the eldest women in control, and a dance like rhythm appeared to take charge of this traditional and noble endeavor. It didn't take long before our small kitchen and dinning room filled, and every flat surface was covered. People scurried into the hallway, where neighbors shuffled pans and pots in and out of their homes to their own kitchens to make room for more, always more so everyone could share in the abundance. Remembering Thanksgiving
Preparation started days earlier, with the making of the pasta. I recall my great aunt bringing in the clothesline from our back porch, the one that strung across the small yard to the adjacent porch and back. She washed and bleached this cord to string across our living and dining rooms, from sconces to chandelier, and doorjambs to windowsills. It was strung as tight as possible to hold the pounds of lasagna noodle, and spaghetti needed to hang dry, to satisfy the hearty Italian appetites. I recall as if it were yesterday listening to our nightly radio programs with the shadows of stringing pasta on the faded floral wallpaper, lending an eerie overtone to the Green hornet, or Gangbusters. How could I ever forget opening my eyes in the morning with the sight of hanging pasta overhead, but then, why in the world would I want to forget that magical moment after all, and what it meant to a young boy that a wonderful and glorious holiday was just around the corner? The Preparations
Each family was represented in the choice of menu items. Every wonderful cook in each branch of the family offered to prepare their own special version of the chosen food. This made for a memorable feast indeed, there were at least 4 successful individual restaurant owners in our family. The competition was playful and fun filled, with chunks of bread, ladles, and spoons dipping into everything, testing, tasting, and teasing. The Family and Friends
It should not be construed that the food preparation was the exclusive provence of our family women, to do so would be to underestimate the culinary contributions of some of the finest cooks in the clan. A few of my uncles, cousins and grandpa were cooks in the Army, Navy, and Marines, as well as in their own restaurants. My great uncle served as a cook in the Italian army, then captured and recruited to cook in the prisoner-of-war camp, when upon his release, served 2 tours as a cook in the US Marines during The Korean War. However, whatever greatness the men may have achieved in the outside world, the kitchen was ruled by those formidable, yet diminutive, strikingly gorgeous, black clad matriarchs of the family. Great grandmothers from both sides of the lineage, grandmothers, great grandmother-in-laws, and great great aunts. Man I'll tell ya, it was a sight to behold at best, and an Italian culinary rivalry at least. Although sharing an Italian heritage, the 6 uncles married outside the Calabrian niche, creating a scrumptious provincial food fight. The Cooks
Children weren't immune from the holiday chores. Chairs were pulled up to the stove for short perpetual stirrers. The teens were given the sink, for the neverending pots and pans, and preteens were runners for last minute fetches and food deliveries. I was honored almost exclusively with the delivery of food for the church and hospital shut-ins because I had the bike with a giant basket. Trying to describe my cousins and most of the local kids wasn't hard, the first thing I recall was, hair, lots of black hair, big doe eyes, dozens of beautiful children with wide grins. At least one kid, sometimes more, was forced to bring his or her accordion, and at every holiday gathering some poor child was browbeaten into playing "Lady Of Spain"! The Kids
Serving 30-40 people, in a one bedroom apartment on the 3rd floor, rear, walkup, was a challenge, but doable. It took the coordination of most of our wonderful neighbors, and the cooperation of all of the residence, which were always invited anyway. Everyone brought pots, pans, dishes, and utensils, at least a chair, and some brought their kitchen tables. Everyone brought something eatable, most were prearranged as in bread, but some were heirloom dessert recipes, enough for at least a good spoonful, for everyone to get a taste. Older adults, always got a chair at the table, all adults got a seat, and kids sat at the card tables, on the stairs or on a carpet in front of the radio in one of the neighbors homes. The Holiday Table
All kids had to be within earshot of the saying of the formal Grace before dinner. Then everyone recited their own prayer in various languages of their native tongue. Our family and friends were of many faiths and nationalities, the overwhelming majority of coarse were Italian. Most remembered a loved one not present, and the names of every absent serviceman and woman were individually read aloud. With all heads bowed, everyone gave thanks for the wonderful gifts of food and health, and each and every person present, gave a special thanks and how grateful they were for being in the United States of America. The Prayer
Any good excuse to gather the clan in our family was and still is, paramount. Weddings, holidays, birthdays, anniversaries, births, baptisms and unfortunately funerals are used as good excuses to get together and, you guessed it.... eat. This is usually done at the familial home of eldest member of the family. The Italian family circle is close and tight, and many families still living within their hometown, even today, live within walking distance of one another. In our family, as in many, brothers, sisters, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins grow as one family unit. The elders live within the homes of their offspring or siblings. The hierarchy is established by the ability of the surviving parents to have living arrangements central to the greatest number of kids and kin. Love of family is the reason, and love of food is the cement. Thanksgiving is one of the most popular days of the year, and has been since my earliest memory. Even today as I did with my parents in my youth, I talk to each of my 5 children and grandchildren, almost everyday, and have even when we lived thousands of miles away... I am truly blessed. The Family
Food for an Italian holiday is second to only to the family. Present at every holiday feast were several types of entree, lasagna, ham, veal, and one or more specialty pasta and of course the giant stuffed Turkeys. There were Kosher dishes aplenty for our many Jewish friends. Our next door neighbor kept a Kosher kitchen and always shared their wonderful food with us as we did in return. Not counted as entrees were homemade sausages, meatballs, and grilled peppers. A strange calzone, one I recall with nuts and octopus was always somewhere on the table as was braciole (Italian beef rolls, and great cannoli desserts were always compliments of our Sicilian side of the family). The Food
Salads and antipasto were a mainstay, with favorites cellentani con Insalata di Peperoni (cellentani with pepper salad), and the ever popular soups, usually a bean, as in minestrone. Breads, rolls, pizza and a mixed variety of biscotti, were always in abundance. Side dishes were a meal in themselves. A vast array of vegetables prepared as specialty items, like artichoke and bacon frittata rounded out every holiday meal. Even our popular lasagne, the recipe that created a chain of famous restaurants, has broccoli or spinach as a principle ingredient to the recipe. Desserts... oh my, great custards, and pastries, ice creams and cakes such as lemon berry tiramisu or frittelle di zucca (pumpkin fritters)
The Moment of Truth My grandfather sat at the head of the table, and next to him sat a gallon jug of his homemade Italian red wine. Almost everyone seated for dinner were given a glass of his wine, if only for the many toasts that were posed, to the cooks and a milieu of other celebrations. The moment of truth came when he would call the name of the boys that he felt were to be worthy of manhood, a scholarship know only to him, usually by some unknown merit method. If you attained that status in his trusted eye, he would invite you to accept a glass of wine and he would toast your new position and with everyone's applause you drank a glass and thanked him.When my moment came, I had just turned 10, and having worked with him on his paper stand in downtown Chicago for 3 years and to my surprise he felt I was ready! Proudly I swallowed a huge gulp, and felt the heat go down my throat and explode at the core of my stomach and began to rush back up. I forced a smiled and swallowed again and hugged him as tight as I could, until my uncle secretly handed me a chunk of bread, which I bit into and forced down before I let my pa loose, perhaps in the nick of time because he slapped me on the back and everything went back down... I never drank another drop of his wine, but accepted his offer to take a glass, each time he offered it until he passed a year later. How I loved that man.
The Carving At each end of the long tables were placed huge turkeys. The head of the households were given the honor of carving these beautifully prepared, golden trophies. It was a ritual and with surgical skills each bird was sliced and distributed to all in attendance until nothing remained but the bare bones. At the conclusion of this wonderful occasion, the men stood and with glasses raised toasted the blushing ladies as we sang... in our best voice, and in Italian, a song dedicated to our wonderful women, .. "Mamma"
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Two ministers died at the same time and met Saint Peter at the Pearly Gates. St. Peter said, "I'd like to get you guys in now, but our computer's down. You'll have to go back to Earth for about a week, but can't go back as ministers. What'll it be?" The first minister says, "I've always wanted to be an eagle, soaring above the Rocky Mountains." "So be it," says St. Peter, and off flies the first minister. The second minister mulls this over for a moment and asks, "Will any of this week count, St. Peter?" "No, I told you the computer's down. There's no way we can keep track of what you're doing." "In that case," says the second minister, "I've always wanted to be a stud." "So be it," says St. Peter, and the second minister disappers. A week goes by, the computer is fixed, and the Lord tells St. Peter to recall the two ministers. "Will you have any trouble locating them?" he asks. "The first one should be easy," says St. Peter. "He's somewhere over the Rockies, flying with the eagles. But the second one could prove to be more difficult." "Why?" asketh the Lord. "He's on a snow tire, somewhere in Pennsylvania |
That deserves repeating! Poor little Elian. I wonder how he is doing?
BTW, about this question;
"Why is it that Creme Brulee is offered in some cities and not in others? You can get it everywhere in Chicago -- but not in Milwaukee."
I've often wondered a few things about certain foods -- since leaving Milwaukee -- myself.
For instance why is it one can buy a Kringle (~Almond, Cherry, or Apple), Ring Balogne, Ma Bianche's Herring tidbits (~in sour cream sauce, of course...) or "Reynold's" Pasties in Milwaukee, but no where else?
(I'm serious as a heart attack, too.)
There're many *culinary* mysteries surrounding Milwaukee & one will usually never know any one of 'em.
...until they leave. (g)
Oh, carlo3b, I luuuuuuuuuuve gnocchi. First time I ever tried it was at a little place in Baltimore. I have to drive up to Baltimore to get REAL food.
The root is harvested in the spring and fall and sold in 1200 pound pallets to processors who grate the root releasing the volatile oils that distinguish horseradish from all other flavors. The ground horseradish is then mixed with distilled vinegar to stabilize the "heat." This basic formula, which varies from processor to processor, may also contain spices or other ingredients – salt, sugar, cream or vegetable oil. But, generally speaking, horseradish and vinegar are the primary constituents in the basic prepared horseradish on the market today.
In the United States, an estimated 24 million pounds of horseradish roots are ground and processed annually to produce approximately 6 million gallons of prepared horseradish.
In addition to the most popular basic prepared horseradish, a number of other horseradish products are available, including cream-style prepared horseradish, horseradish sauce, beet horseradish and dehydrated horseradish. Cocktail sauce, specialty mustards, and many other sauces, dips, spreads, relishes and dressings also may contain horseradish.
Each May, horseradish is feted at the International Horseradish Festival in Collinsville, Illinois. Events include a root toss, a horseradish-eating contest and a horseradish recipe contest. Begun in 1988, the festival was designed to create national awareness for the herb and the area where most of the world's supply is grown, according to festival organizers. Collinsville and the surrounding area is part of what is known as the American bottoms, a Mississippi river basin area adjacent to St. Louis. Carved-out by the glaciers from the ice age, the soil is rich in potash, a nutrient on which the horseradish thrives. The area grows 60 percent of the world's supply. German immigrants to the area began growing horseradish in the late 1800s and passed their growing methods from generation to generation. The area's cold winters provide the required root dormancy and the long summers provide excellent growing conditions.
Horseradish is a member of the mustard family (sharing lineage with its gentler cousins, kale, cauliflower, Brussel sprouts and the common radish) and is cultivated for its thick, fleshy white roots. The bite and aroma of the horseradish root are almost absent until it is grated or ground. During this process, as the root cells are crushed, volatile oils known as isothiocyanate are released. Vinegar stops this reaction and stabilizes the flavor. For milder horseradish, vinegar is added immediately.
Horseradish appears in a variety of products in the supermarket and specialty food shops: Basic prepared horseradish is the grated fresh horseradish root mixed with distilled vinegar. Spices or other ingredients may be added (such as salt, sugar, cream or vegetable oil) to enhance and protect flavor.
To relish the full flavor of processed horseradish, it must be fresh and of high quality. Color varies from white to creamy beige. As processed horseradish ages, it browns and loses potency. Replace with a fresh jar for full flavor enjoyment. Varieties of prepared horseradish include Cream Style Prepared Horseradish, Horseradish Sauce, Beet Horseradish and Dehydrated Horseradish. Distinguishing characteristics may be ingredients or texture -- fine or coarse ground. The true horseradish enthusiast has several favorites, depending on the end use.
Cocktail sauce with fresh horseradish is another winner, and has many uses beyond its usual role, as a flavorful accompaniment for seafood. Mustard with fresh horseradish also adds a rich and spicy zing to cold cuts or hot entrees.
To savor horseradish at its best:
Braised Turkey Thighs With Horseradish Cranberry Sauce
Number of Servings: 6
Ingredients:
1 Stick Cinnamon
8 Whole Cloves
2 Allspice berries
8 Peppercorns
1 Tsp.Thyme
3 Turkey thighs (14-16 Oz. each), boned, rolled and tied
Seasoned flour, as needed
1 Bay leaf
1/2 Stick Margarine
1 C. Whole cranberry sauce
1/2 C. Prepared horseradish
1 C. Chicken
stock Salt and ground white pepper to taste
Instructions:
Tie cinnamon stick, whole cloves, allspice, peppercorns, thyme, bay leaf in cheesecloth bag. Dredge turkey thighs in seasoned flour and brown well in large pan in melted margarine. Add cheesecloth bag and remaining ingredients, cover and cook in 350º oven until tender (1-¼ hours). Remove cheesecloth bag. Slice things and serve over noodles or spetzles with resulting horseradish-cranberry sauce and accompany with boiled carrots in dill-flavored butter.
OooLaLa.. Ops, I mean Yehaaaaaaaaaaaa.... LOL
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All mustard is made in relatively the same way. The seed must be crushed, its hull and bran sifted out or not depending on type of mustard being made. It then may or may not go through further grinding and crushing. A liquid such as water, wine, vinegar, beer, or a combination of several of these liquids is added, along with seasonings and perhaps other flavorings. The mustard is mixed, in some cases simmered, and then cooled. Some mustard is aged in large containers before it is bottled and shipped to stores and customer. Although similar recipes for mustard paste appear as early as 42 AD, the use of mustard as a condiment was not widely practiced in either Greece or Rome. The Romans took the seed to Gaul, and by the ninth century French monasteries were bringing in considerable income from mustard preparations. By the13th century, mustard was one of the items offered by Parisian sauce-hawkers, who walked the streets at dinner peddling their savory wares. For centuries, there was an increase in both the regulation of mustard and its number of makers. Adulteration and contamination persisted until the middle of the sixteenth century, when regulations were instituted governing the cleanliness of all utensils used in production. In 1658, additional laws protected mustard producers, making it an offence for any one else to make the sauce. In spite of the wide acceptance of mustard and the regulations governing its production, mustard's popularity declined by the early eighteenth century. The House of Maille, founded in 1747, was doing well in Paris, but general interest had ebbed, in part because of spices newly available from the Americas and the Far East. The market was revived, and the city of Dijon secured as the capitol of mustard when, in 1856, Burgundian Jean Naigeon substituted verjuice for the vinegar in prepared mustard. The use of verjuice resulted in a mustard that was less acidic than France had tasted before, and the smooth, suave condiment we call Dijon assumed its place in history. Although several mustard companies flourished in England, most notably Keen & Sons, founded in 1747, the English mustard producer to make an enduring name for himself did not come along until 1804. In that year, Jeremiah Colman, a miller of flour, began the first of several expansions that would make his name a synonym for mustard. Today, Colman's mustard is prepared by much the same process that Jeremiah Colman developed. Two types of mustard seed-white and brown-are ground separately and sifted through silk cloth to separate the husks and the bran from the mustard flour. Originally, black mustard seed was used, but it was replaced by brown several decades ago. After grinding and sifting, the two mustards are mixed together and packaged in the famous yellow tins. This blend provides of full range of sensation both on the tongue and in the eyes and sinuses. |
How do I say this...... Let me start with the Brennan story;
Owen Edward Brennan, born in New Orleans, first brush with food was as a candy Company bookkeeper. He also worked as a salesman and district manager for Schenley Liquor Company and, finally, as the temporary manager of the Court of Two Sisters Restaurant. I believe it was at the Court of Two Sisters that inspired his vision for his own future restaurant. With that background, and with a flair for business and an Irish charm, on September 1943, Owen purchased the Old Absinthe House on Bourbon Street.
The Absinthe House had been built in 1798 and was known to be pirate Jean Lafitte's secret hangout "the oldest saloon in America." Shortly New Orleans recognized it had a fine showman as well as the host of the new breed of Bourbon Street entrepreneurism, if that is even a word... LOL He tested his showmanship by staging lifelike mannequins of the notorious Lafitte and Andrew Jackson in the "Secret Room" - the very room in which the pact was supposedly made in New Orleans' defense against the British at the Battle of New Orleans.
All of his success was wonderful but, it and he, were somewhat of a joke in the French limousine cuisine community of "The Quarter". Owen's good friend, Count Arnaud, whose restaurant was a popular New Orleans dining spot, allegedly posed a challenge to Owen. To counter the criticism of his place, Owen would relay complaints overheard at the Absinthe House to offending restaurant owners. To which Count Arnaud, himself a very famous New Orleans restaurateur replied, "You're forever telling me about the complaints you hear. If you think you can do better, why don't you open a restaurant?"
...Well as they say the rest is wonderful lore, Owen soon leased the famed the Vieux Carre Restaurant directly across the street from the Old Absinthe House. He named it after himself, Owen Brennan's French & Creole Restaurant; and in time, it came to be more commonly known as Owen Brennan's Vieux Carre. Owen built his restaurant into a famous institution almost overnight, competing with New Orleans' oldest and best in French and Creole cuisine. Owen's research and knowledge of French food, fine wine and impeccable service made him a master.... and it eventually did him in... but I digress...
Owen Edward Brennan, the restaurateur, was convinced that if the concept "Dinner at Antoine's" another world renown dining spot, could so successfully captivate a gastronomic world audience, then why not "Breakfast at Brennan's?"
A greedy landlord seeing the success of the leased Vieux Carre venture, demanded 50% of the revenue, to which Owen said "STUFF IT", or words to that effect, and it was obvious he wasn't referring to placing it in crepes, ...LOL It inspired him to open what is now the world renowned Brennan's on Royal Street. However, on the eve of it's grand opening, and after gorging himself at a wine and gourmet food feast, ... that night in his sleep, at the age of forty-five... he... gulp... expired.
That did not dissuade this feisty Irish, Brennan family, they turned to a replacement. With his boys still too young and his wife Maude without food and wine experience his youngest sister Ella, a thirty years old kitchen supervisor assumed the helm, and they opened. The raving reviews were somewhat driven by the legend created by the glowing editorials in memory of the legendary founder.. Brennan's was born and to some extent still lives today.
Finally........ ha! Thats not to say Brennan's Restaurant isn't a great dinning experience, and that it isn't the place where you just might bump into a movie star, or celebrity (however, not as many as in it's illustrious past).. or that it may still delight a patron just to have brunch or breakfast in an historic landmark.... IMHO, the food hasn't quite kept up with the prestigious, and celebrated reputation... and as with most legends, their distinguished and colorful history, overshadows the living reality. My last few experiences where sadly waning.. the food was uninspired, and obviously portion controlled, and the service was, lets say more bothered by our presence, and as tired as their baggy trousers....pity
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