My grandmother, Vovo Costa, taught me how to have patience with food, how to be in the moment at the stove, how to see stirring as meditative. Lessons I still use daily.
Right. I think that what made it "Chilli" was the green bell peppers. Onions, ground beef, canned tomatoes, macaroni and green peppers. The concoction is fairly soupy and not challenging to eat. I've mostly seen it as cafeteria and roach coach food. If I were to make it today, I would definitely spice it up with garlic and Italian seasonings.
My father was the cook in our family. I have volumes of his hand written food notes and a box full of clippings from his newspaper columns that he wrote after he retired from the diplomatic service. His food was international in scope. I inherited over 10,000 cookbooks which were mostly dumped due to their poor condition (roaches, silverfish and mildew). The Schlesinger was supposed to get it but they rejected it for the above reasons.
My Ice Queen South Philly Sicilian grandmother never let me in the kitchen because she didn't think it was a place for boys. My bipolar Kansas farm girl runaway grandmother only cooked during her manic periods, so we just stayed out of her way.
Haha we come from "stirring stock" too. Nothing more satisfying or soothing than dipping your ladle into the soup or stew and sniffing in the all the delightful aromas...
My Grandma Word came from pioneer stock and cooked everything in bacon grease. Her food was amazing but she passed on clogged arteries to her sons and they all died young. The girls lived into their nineties and both smoked. Go figure. I remember Grandma’s pork chops most reverently since they were tender, juicy and cooked over the stove in an iron skillet. She passed when I was eight years old, but I still remember the feeling of being by her side and her patience with my silly questions.
That's a wonderful memory, Gloria. Pork back then so much more tender and flavorful. Unfortunately they have bread out the flavor and the fat in contemporary pork.
In our flat in Aberdeen, we had an oven at the side of the fireplace. I think it ran on gas (provided by shillings dropped into a meter). Gran would bake stuff in the oven regularly. Cakes, pies, biscuits, (American translation: cookies). Since I was very small at the time, she had a vested interest in keeping me close at hand and engaged in the baking process. My favorite approach to this effort was when Gran was assembling whatever it was she was fixing. She would line up all the ingredients and assign names to them. Eggs tended to be Mickey Mouse, Minnie Mouse, and other Disney characters. Adding liquid was "making a pond" for whatever ingredients still had to go in. Those tended to be Donald Duck and his relatives. I forget now what butter was, but it had its own identifier. Flour was snow. Other spices were rain, sleet, ice, etc. All were added, in their turn, with appropriate verbiage to keep a story line going. I was fascinated by it all and couldn't wait for the aroma to drift out of the oven. That may have been my favorite part of it all. No waiting to taste anything, just revel in the smell that filled the flat. My mother got those genes. I did not. I burn pretty much everthing I bake and I have no patience for the persnickety weighing and measuring necessary for baked goods. But I still love that smell and I think that a lifetime of eating charcoal has made me incredibly healthy. At least, that's what I tell myself when I need to scrape off the burned bits.
Not to my knowledge. My mother didn't do it. Just Gran. Maybe Mum would have done it if only I had stood still long enough. (I think I was a bit of a trial once I became fully mobile.)
I come from a long line of non cooks, on both sides. Nanny Steadman was known to have puffed rice for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and passed down those skills to my grandmother and mother. Nana on my dad’s side never found a piece of meat she couldn’t destroy. I learned to cook in self defense by watching PBS.
Now that we've settled into our new home in Lucca, and our belongings finally arrived from the US, I'm looking forward to making my first ragu here. Marcella's version is very good, but my favorite is actually the ragu alla contadina from Lynne Rossetto Kasper's fabulous book, The Splendid Table. If you haven't tried that one, I would highly recommend it.
The primary difference is in the meat: Marcella uses only beef, and Lynn's ragu alla contadina has a mixture of meats, which I think creates a nice balance of flavors. Lynn's has a shorter cooking time, but I often simmer it a bit longer. No point in rushing a ragu.
Unfortunately, Grandma Rose died very young (62), but my Mom gave me the greatest recipe from her. Her stuffed cabbage was made with barley, instead of rice. So much more flavorful!! Never had it from anyone else that way.
My grandmother was Ukrainian and cooked all the Ukrainian favorites: Kapusta, Varanika, Borscht, and homemade Kielbasa. But her Easter and Christmas breads, which she called babkas, were, in my opinion, the best. When I was little, I sat and watched her mix flour, raisins, and other magic ingredients. After she kneaded it and punched it, it miraculously grew! She always gave me a piece of dough and although I punched it much more than she did, mine never grew. As I got older, she let me add the ingredients. She never measured. Then older still, we took turns kneading. Along with the loaves of bread, she also made some smaller breads using a muffin tin. We kids could not wait until those hot, delicious buns emerged from the oven. I still make that bread every Easter and every Christmas, and now my daughter has carried on that wonderful tradition with her 6 year old daughter helping, as I once did with my grandmother.
Nadine, that was an amazing gift that your grandmother gave you. I'm so glad you're carrying on with your granddaughter. Very few of my generation in my family make Portuguese dishes. And it's sad.
My mother's mother was the one who baked and cooked. Her name was Helen. My favorite memories are of baking Polly's Teatime Tassies with her, which were basically mini pecan pies that you made in a cupcake pan. I couldn't wait for our summer visit to see her in MA and start baking. My mom was a working mom so she pressure cooked everything and really didn't like to cook or bake. When crock pots came around, she used them a lot. My Grandfather could deconstruct a smoked whitefish like a surgeon. Another wonderful memory. But my aha moment was when my mother came back from a vacation to VT with the cookbook from the B&B (Blueberry Hill) she and dad stayed at. I made brownies from scratch and I was hooked! No more boxes for me. It led to my career in food service. What a difference a small moment like that can make in one's life.
It just goes to show you how powerful those memories are. To go from making Paula's Teatime Tassies to being in the food service. That's a direct lineage you can trace all the way back to your grandmother.
You bet. And cooking and baking are part of my daily life. I love to do "drive-bys". I take a loaf of hot bread or some brownies out of the oven, jump in the car and knock on a friend's door, hand them the bread and drive off. I LOVE that. So many people don't cook or bake anymore. I love to feed people and it makes both of us happy. :)
Never actually cooked with my grandmother, but I did plenty with my Italian cooking maven, Anna Teresa Callen. Her Bolognese is almost identical to Marcella’s and both eschewed the so-called Bolognese’s that were heavy on tomatoes. Yours looks fabulous. 😋
We had a house next door to my Grandmother's house up in the mountains bordering Austria. I was always there, after school, all weekends. It was wonderful for the many years we were there. I, also, got to stir the pot! Great chicken soup! I learned a lot from her. Especially the family history.
This makes me wish I had met my Italian grandmother. Fortunately my Aunt learned from her mom and cooked as few great dishes with sauces which simmered on the stove slow cooking for a long time.
Neither of my grandmothers were known for their cooking. My Swedish grandmother from Worcester was known for her chilli which was very different from the canned stuff we were familiar with. I found out much later that what she called chilli was what was known elsewhere as American Chop Suey, another dish far from its country of origin (China!!) The strongest herb or spice in her kitchen was Lawry's Seasoned Salt.
Oh my gosh, Kristi. American Chop Suey. I haven't thought about that for the longest time. If I remember correctly, it was just elbow macaroni with a ground beef tomato sauce. Right?
Right. I think that what made it "Chilli" was the green bell peppers. Onions, ground beef, canned tomatoes, macaroni and green peppers. The concoction is fairly soupy and not challenging to eat. I've mostly seen it as cafeteria and roach coach food. If I were to make it today, I would definitely spice it up with garlic and Italian seasonings.
My father was the cook in our family. I have volumes of his hand written food notes and a box full of clippings from his newspaper columns that he wrote after he retired from the diplomatic service. His food was international in scope. I inherited over 10,000 cookbooks which were mostly dumped due to their poor condition (roaches, silverfish and mildew). The Schlesinger was supposed to get it but they rejected it for the above reasons.
My Ice Queen South Philly Sicilian grandmother never let me in the kitchen because she didn't think it was a place for boys. My bipolar Kansas farm girl runaway grandmother only cooked during her manic periods, so we just stayed out of her way.
And yet you turned out to be an incredible cook!
As rumor has it!
Jacques Pepin told me.
Them's triggerin' words!
Haha we come from "stirring stock" too. Nothing more satisfying or soothing than dipping your ladle into the soup or stew and sniffing in the all the delightful aromas...
Absolutely nothing is more satisfying, N!
My Grandma Word came from pioneer stock and cooked everything in bacon grease. Her food was amazing but she passed on clogged arteries to her sons and they all died young. The girls lived into their nineties and both smoked. Go figure. I remember Grandma’s pork chops most reverently since they were tender, juicy and cooked over the stove in an iron skillet. She passed when I was eight years old, but I still remember the feeling of being by her side and her patience with my silly questions.
That's a wonderful memory, Gloria. Pork back then so much more tender and flavorful. Unfortunately they have bread out the flavor and the fat in contemporary pork.
In our flat in Aberdeen, we had an oven at the side of the fireplace. I think it ran on gas (provided by shillings dropped into a meter). Gran would bake stuff in the oven regularly. Cakes, pies, biscuits, (American translation: cookies). Since I was very small at the time, she had a vested interest in keeping me close at hand and engaged in the baking process. My favorite approach to this effort was when Gran was assembling whatever it was she was fixing. She would line up all the ingredients and assign names to them. Eggs tended to be Mickey Mouse, Minnie Mouse, and other Disney characters. Adding liquid was "making a pond" for whatever ingredients still had to go in. Those tended to be Donald Duck and his relatives. I forget now what butter was, but it had its own identifier. Flour was snow. Other spices were rain, sleet, ice, etc. All were added, in their turn, with appropriate verbiage to keep a story line going. I was fascinated by it all and couldn't wait for the aroma to drift out of the oven. That may have been my favorite part of it all. No waiting to taste anything, just revel in the smell that filled the flat. My mother got those genes. I did not. I burn pretty much everthing I bake and I have no patience for the persnickety weighing and measuring necessary for baked goods. But I still love that smell and I think that a lifetime of eating charcoal has made me incredibly healthy. At least, that's what I tell myself when I need to scrape off the burned bits.
Sandra, what heartwarming. I've never heard of anyone telling a story using the ingredients. Is that common?
Not to my knowledge. My mother didn't do it. Just Gran. Maybe Mum would have done it if only I had stood still long enough. (I think I was a bit of a trial once I became fully mobile.)
I come from a long line of non cooks, on both sides. Nanny Steadman was known to have puffed rice for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and passed down those skills to my grandmother and mother. Nana on my dad’s side never found a piece of meat she couldn’t destroy. I learned to cook in self defense by watching PBS.
Amy, sometime defensive cooking is the best kind!
Now that we've settled into our new home in Lucca, and our belongings finally arrived from the US, I'm looking forward to making my first ragu here. Marcella's version is very good, but my favorite is actually the ragu alla contadina from Lynne Rossetto Kasper's fabulous book, The Splendid Table. If you haven't tried that one, I would highly recommend it.
Lisa, I do have Lynne's book. I need to look into it more. What's the main difference?
The primary difference is in the meat: Marcella uses only beef, and Lynn's ragu alla contadina has a mixture of meats, which I think creates a nice balance of flavors. Lynn's has a shorter cooking time, but I often simmer it a bit longer. No point in rushing a ragu.
Unfortunately, Grandma Rose died very young (62), but my Mom gave me the greatest recipe from her. Her stuffed cabbage was made with barley, instead of rice. So much more flavorful!! Never had it from anyone else that way.
That sounds amazing, Lauren!
My grandmother was Ukrainian and cooked all the Ukrainian favorites: Kapusta, Varanika, Borscht, and homemade Kielbasa. But her Easter and Christmas breads, which she called babkas, were, in my opinion, the best. When I was little, I sat and watched her mix flour, raisins, and other magic ingredients. After she kneaded it and punched it, it miraculously grew! She always gave me a piece of dough and although I punched it much more than she did, mine never grew. As I got older, she let me add the ingredients. She never measured. Then older still, we took turns kneading. Along with the loaves of bread, she also made some smaller breads using a muffin tin. We kids could not wait until those hot, delicious buns emerged from the oven. I still make that bread every Easter and every Christmas, and now my daughter has carried on that wonderful tradition with her 6 year old daughter helping, as I once did with my grandmother.
Nadine, that was an amazing gift that your grandmother gave you. I'm so glad you're carrying on with your granddaughter. Very few of my generation in my family make Portuguese dishes. And it's sad.
My mother's mother was the one who baked and cooked. Her name was Helen. My favorite memories are of baking Polly's Teatime Tassies with her, which were basically mini pecan pies that you made in a cupcake pan. I couldn't wait for our summer visit to see her in MA and start baking. My mom was a working mom so she pressure cooked everything and really didn't like to cook or bake. When crock pots came around, she used them a lot. My Grandfather could deconstruct a smoked whitefish like a surgeon. Another wonderful memory. But my aha moment was when my mother came back from a vacation to VT with the cookbook from the B&B (Blueberry Hill) she and dad stayed at. I made brownies from scratch and I was hooked! No more boxes for me. It led to my career in food service. What a difference a small moment like that can make in one's life.
It just goes to show you how powerful those memories are. To go from making Paula's Teatime Tassies to being in the food service. That's a direct lineage you can trace all the way back to your grandmother.
You bet. And cooking and baking are part of my daily life. I love to do "drive-bys". I take a loaf of hot bread or some brownies out of the oven, jump in the car and knock on a friend's door, hand them the bread and drive off. I LOVE that. So many people don't cook or bake anymore. I love to feed people and it makes both of us happy. :)
Never actually cooked with my grandmother, but I did plenty with my Italian cooking maven, Anna Teresa Callen. Her Bolognese is almost identical to Marcella’s and both eschewed the so-called Bolognese’s that were heavy on tomatoes. Yours looks fabulous. 😋
Thanks, June! It's 98% Marcella's recipe. I just added pork and veal to it.
We had a house next door to my Grandmother's house up in the mountains bordering Austria. I was always there, after school, all weekends. It was wonderful for the many years we were there. I, also, got to stir the pot! Great chicken soup! I learned a lot from her. Especially the family history.
My gosh, to live in the mountains bordering Austria. You lived the Von Trapp family story! Minus the Nazis.
This makes me wish I had met my Italian grandmother. Fortunately my Aunt learned from her mom and cooked as few great dishes with sauces which simmered on the stove slow cooking for a long time.
Lyla, at least there is some connection. And that's really what matters most.
Neither of my grandmothers were known for their cooking. My Swedish grandmother from Worcester was known for her chilli which was very different from the canned stuff we were familiar with. I found out much later that what she called chilli was what was known elsewhere as American Chop Suey, another dish far from its country of origin (China!!) The strongest herb or spice in her kitchen was Lawry's Seasoned Salt.
Oh my gosh, Kristi. American Chop Suey. I haven't thought about that for the longest time. If I remember correctly, it was just elbow macaroni with a ground beef tomato sauce. Right?
I think the use of green bell pepper made it chili. Hers was kind of soupy as I remember it and to my taste now rather on the bland side of things.