Back to Nonni.

 Italian I am not. However, living outside of New Haven, Connecticut, I grew up with one of the biggest Italian populations in our country. I'm familiar with a lot of Italian food, traditions and the beautiful customs that Italian-Americans enjoy. My childhood friend Rose would spend summers with her father who lived one street over and I would frequently observe her immigrant stepmother and father as they created a little Italy on West Street. I couldn't speak Italian and her stepmother didn't seem to know much English, but somehow during a hot summer day, I found myself semi-voluntarily peeling nearly scalding my palms, blackened peppers they roasted on an open fire in their backyard. I witnessed their canning process from start to finish. I remember watching the manure being offloaded by a old, dented truck that was backed into their long driveway, past the three story colonial in the very modest neighborhood in which I grew up. When it wasn't occupied, Rose and I would play in the furnished basement apartment. I couldn't believe how much room there was and we would find ourselves playing "pretend house" in that spacious area. I am not aware of what happened from manure to harvest, but I do remember the mounds of soil and plants growing. It wasn't until Rose's stepmom planted that hot, roasted pepper in my hands that day and motioned directions that I would find myself becoming part of their harvesting process. I marveled at their wall shelves deep enough to be jampacked with glass jars with the fruits of their garden. I'd never seen anything like it and I wondered when they would eat it all. There wasn't a single jar with a store-bought label on it. 
My friends and some family members are either from Italy, or 1st, or 2nd generation Italians. My own husband is an Italian citizen, but that's a "whole notha" story! To put it mildly, there are a lot experts floating around my world. If someone is Italian around here, you hear about it and you hear about it in abundance. Sometimes, all you hear is how great it is to be Italian even if it just means they are sitting around talking about being Italian–somehow there's a greatness in that. 

Recently at a baby shower, my cousin's brother-in-law told me about his mother's cooking schedule every week that he and his brother (my cousin's husband) experienced growing up with two Italian parents in New England. Nonni, who is beloved by all of us, is a master seamstress with lots of clients, but what I learned from her son, was that she was also a master breadmaker, a master lasagna and sauce maker and a master of a wife and mother. Tony had no idea, but I was completely enthralled in his description of his mother's weekly menu. I could not believe the fortune I happened upon as he began to list his mother's weekly schedule. She would begin with the numerous loaves of bread at the end of the week, as described by son Tony. He motioned with his hands demonstrating how she'd place the dough around the kitchen. I imagined dough rising on countertops and window sills with cloths over each ball. I then pictured her placing the floured and risen dough in to the tins for baking. The sauce would be cooked over the weekend. And, this would be the food they ate all week. And, by the following Thursday, that food that was started seven days prior would be done and Rosalba would begin the routine again. As he described his mother's food, you could almost savor it, his love for his mother's cooking was so apparent and heartwarming. I urged him to write this down as he shared her unique lasagna recipe which she had in years past promised to make with me one day. He spoke for over and hour about their upbringing and their cooking and I loved hearing every minute. I did not grow up with grandfathers and the grandmothers I had shared no ethnic recipes as they were too busy being single-mothers and offered no centuries old traditions that I know of. I envy people who grew up with family gatherings of traditional foods and as much as I've tried to make traditions of my own, I'm not sure my kids will ever get the same senses I heard from Tony that day.

Back to Nonni. Back to Tony. The last thing Tony described after uncovering her secret ingredient for lasagna was regarding his family's tomatoes. It was an annual tradition as is with every family that cans their own. Tony said they never had the same amount of jars filled. Some years, it would be 63, some years 45, he recalled as he pointed his fingers to motion how they counted after the end of each season. But, they'd be the only jars they'd open and use–never store bought–his main point being it was their labor that produced what they would consume. Hearing that I just thought, gosh I can't remember a single thing my family did together annually. What an incredible privilege to grow up in this kind of culture. Sadly, most families are not carrying this on. But, it's certainly incredible that he can share this tradition through story telling.

Most Italians are proud and their sauce is always the best. And it's true, on a certain day, with that certain pasta and the certain surroundings—without any measurements to Italy-boot—your sauce is the best. And, if it begins with the fruit of their labor, well, that's just the pearl in the oyster, isn't it?  I'll never mess with your Nona's directions nor criticize that she didn't use San Marzanos. I don't judge her if she doesn't fry her meatballs stove-top first or use Pecorino-Romano or fresh parsley as a staple garnish. And yes, I also chuckle when a recipe calls for two cloves of garlic as I learned is the correct response because who measures garlic? Italians don't. But, they do, "do it best." This, I know. And, if you don't know, give it a minute and an Italian will tell you. 

That FOUR ingredient tomato sauce.

 I love recipes out of New York Times or other food publications. I married as a completely inexperienced cook and used to think I was hot stuff after heating up a Stouffer's salisbury steak dinner in the microwave and throwing together instant mashed potatoes for our meal as newlyweds. My goal pretty early in our marriage though and then after having children was to learn– really learn how to cook from scratch. And, so my journey began with falling for not only good recipes, but the stories behind those recipes. While scrolling through these boring blog articles in order to get to a recipe may be a pain in the butt, once in a while, there's a really great history behind that directive that makes the recipe that much more meaningful. When I came across this recipe from Marcella Hazan I couldn't believe it. Her recipe calls for four ingredients. Just add basil and garlic, right? No. No basil, no, and gulp, not even a clove of garlic. 

I made this sauce which is titled, "The Best Tomato Sauce" and I was absolutely delighted and surprised at how incredibly delicious it is. I began to look up other opinions on this sauce and was feeling like I was on to something—most people who make homemade sauce, have no restraint. Most write-ups on this recipe will start off calling it a four ingredient sauce, but they always end up commenting on what other ingredients can be added or alternatives for the four. And, friends and family that I've shared the recipe with gawked at the lack of spice or said something like, "Well, it was OK, I added garlic and parsley to mine." I began to care not so much about whether they liked the sauce, but I was humored by the again, lack of restraint. People simply cannot hold back from adding what they think  should be in an Italian sauce, rather than being willing to just try it. The main point of the recipe is that it is only four ingredients. Marcella's husband described Marcella's creation as being scientific and noting, she was born to make such a sauce, and her education in the sciences only helped her realize the chemistry of butter and onions. It just made sense.

There is a hero of this story, my longtime since childhood friend, whose grandparents arrived via Ellis Island from Italy. This is my seven fishes on Christmas Eve, every Saturday at Big Nanny's type of Italian friend. I nonchalantly shared the recipe with her thinking man she's gonna shoot me down for this one. A couple months later, I cautiously asked her about it and threw in, "hey I know you probably think it was a stupid recipe..." and without any hesitation she voices back, "Are you kidding me, it's now the only sauce I make, it is delicious!" That New Year's Eve, we made the sauce and put it over stuffed shells and baked them in my oven. I remember as we both took our first bite, we paused and looked at eachother with that look–like pardon my french but that is dang good. I think there may have been a little headshake and a minor bit of moaning and grunting. We both describe the sauce as velvety. And, now it is the only sauce both of us make. We just made it recently for a family gathering–hers over sausage, mine over meatballs and the the compliments were endless. I do not remove the onions when I serve. And, as Marcella's family advises, Marcella always added grated cheese when she served the sauce and so do I. 

The four ingredients are:

• 2 cups of fresh or a 28 ounce can of San Marzano tomatoes
• One onion, halved
• 5 tablespoons of butter
• salt

https://www.epicurious.com/expert-advice/marcella-hazan-famous-tomato-onion-butter-sauce-article

You bring to boil and then quickly turn down and let it simmer for at least 45 minutes. 

Ice Cream Bar for Dessert

For my son's recent "Jack n Jill" we set up an ice cream bar for dessert. We kept it simple and didn't serve anything else.The bride and groom chose their own candy. A cookie tray delivered a beautiful touch and we provided syrups and good whipped cream. 

The bride's grandmother placed all the candy into the dessert dishes and on trays that were all purchased at the dollar store or borrowed from the kitchen! Adding the silver trays added a little elegance to the set up.

 I found margarita glasses, fish bowls, candle holders and the shiny silver trays all for $1.25 each. Using larger silver spoons for serving worked perfectly. All the guests seemed to truly embrace the ice cream bar and the bride loved it. 

 The two tubs of ice cream were from Restaurant Depot and cost $45 for both. We used half of each tub--this was for approximately 80 guests.  Most people didn't want more than two scoops.

It was helpful for us to have two scoopers and start to prefill the bowls about two minutes before guests came up to the self-serve bar. My husband and myself were the scoopers and honestly, it gave us the opportunity to interact with every single guest. The bride and groom were served first. Of course, we customized the ice cream for the beloved, picky guests and gave extra scoops to those asking. It was truly a fun and unique way to have dessert and celebrate before the bride and groom opened their gifts. Guests ate their ice cream as they began to watch the gift opening!