01/27/2014

Taters and Onions, Italian Style

I said that I would include blogs about Italian cooking.  When I eventually do the Phillip’s Quest Cookbook, many of the recipes will be a conversion of Italian recipes to recipes for gnomes, and other creatures.  Here is one I found on Adrianna’s Cookies page.  I’d like to call it, “Taters and Onions a la Italiano”

2-1/4 lbs of russet potatoes, peeled and sliced very thinly

2 cups chopped onions

2 cups chicken broth

1 garlic clove, halved

8 Tablespoons packed Pecorino Romano cheese, divided

3 Tablespoons drained capers

Olive oil for brushing, plus 4 Tablespoons, divided

Coarse Kosher salt

Directions:

Preheat  oven to 350F

Rub 13 x 9 x 2 inch glass pan with cut side of garlic clove.

Brush dish with olive oil.

Heat 2 Tablespoons of olive oil in heavy large skillet over medium heat.

Add onions, sprinkle with salt and sautee until soft and beginning to brown. Stir frequently, about 12-15 minutes.

Arrange 1/3 of s;iced potatoes in even layer in prepared pan.

Sprinkle with coarse salt and pepper.

Scatter 1/2 onions over the potatoes.

Sprinkle with 2 Tablespoons Pecorino and 1 Tablespoon capers.

Repeat layering and end with layer of potatoes.

Drizzle remaining olive oil.

Pour chicken broth over.

Press down on potatoes to compact layers.

Cover, gratin with foil and bake for 1hour 20 minutes, or until potatoes are tender.

Uncover and sprinkle with remaining cheese.

Bake, uncovered, another 15 minutes, until cheese is lightly browned.

Let gratin remain at room temperature for 10 minutes, before serving.

Salute! Buono appetito!

Cookies-fromItaly.com

01/27/2014

You just never know…(la deuxieme partie aka part two!)

Before I begin another blog on how one never knows where life, and blogging will take them, I want to thank ALL of you for viewing, reading and/or commenting on my blogs.  It’s exciting to me, especially because these days, during the “polar vortex,” I remain homebound.  So, i’m thrilled to be able to connect to people all over the world!  Too cool! So, this ol’ girl thanks you for making my life a little more interesting!  Please feel free to comment and/or ask questions regarding “Phillip,” my jewelry, or just moi!

So, to continue…One of my biggest thrills was reuniting with my other Brooklyn cousins.  This time, on my Dad’s side.  Don’t talk to much about the “Old Man.” because, well, to put it bluntly, he was not quite right.  In fact, most of that side of the family were not quite right.  That, is the Sicilian side.  

I reunited with the Rolanti side in 2004, via the internet and through my “dead” cousin, Tommy.  God rest his soul.  Unfortunately, now, he really has passed, but for more than twenty years, the Old Man had told me was dead because he was gay! I’ve let go of a lot of things in my life, but that.  

Tommy was the youngest in the family.  About five,  (I think?) years younger.  When we were growing up, my Mom and I used to go to see my Uncle Victor and Aunt Vera in the Bensonhurst/Bay Ridge area of Brooklyn.  My Uncle used to sometimes drive all the way to Queens, pick us up and drive to their house.  I loved going there because there, I wasn’t the youngest; Tommy was. My cousin Lorraine, who is only nine months older than I were  two of a kind.  We loved the same things.  We still do.  She is the L’Ora of my jewelry line through Bella L’Ora Jewelry and Design. I digress.

My fondest memory is my Mom giving us a quarter($.25) to go get a “slice.” If you have to ask what that means, you’re not a New Yorker or you’ve never been to the City. I can remember, as we were walking down the street, I think 71st Street, to Mario’s, the aroma of the best pizza you ever ate! And, we, Lorraine, Tommy and I had a whole twenty-five cents.  Back then, pizza was ten-cents a slice! Enough for Lorraine, me and well, not for Tom.  Talk about a dejected look, which he perfected, in his later years, it was enough to make you melt!  And melt we did…splitting our pieces so that he got some.  Actually, I think he made out better!

I totally lost contact with all of the Rolanti cousins until 2004 when I was, for whatever reason, Google-ing, our sur name, my maiden name.  I had looked a hundred times before with no results.  It’s an odd Sicilian name and not quite right…seriously.  It had been changed from the actual Sicilian spelling of “RULLANTI,” (did I get that right, Lorraine?) to “ROLANTI,” when my grandfather Francesco, came to America in 1898.  Then, somewhere along the line, it was again incorrectly transcribed: ROLANDO.  So, some of the brothers were ROLANTI and some ROLANDO.  All, not quite right.  Lorraine’s dad, Victor, being the most sane of them.

One morning, for giggles, I once again typed in ROLANTI.  Low and behold, I see:Thomas Rolanti, with the band “Rubberlegs” yada, yada…and there was a website. I originally thought, this must be an obit, but it wasn’t!  So I sent an email and I thought, this is nuts.  A few days later, the phone rang and there was Tommy.  We cried for a long time. I just wanted to hug him.

I got to see Tom, Lorraine, her husband Takeo and my older cousin Vic, in the Summer of 2005. A gift from the Angels. My cousin, Tom passed in 2006, he was honored at PFLAG, that year. My cousin Lorraine was the Maid of Honor at my wedding in 2007.  We speak very, very often. Really, we have never been apart.

01/26/2014

You Just Never Know…

when things will happen.  In my Chicken Soup blog, I mentioned that I had family in Queens and Brooklyn.  My mom was raised in Brooklyn, during the days of prohibition.  She could tell some stories.  Big black cars going into a funeral home, when there was no funeral…but that’s for another time.  Her maiden name was “Peluso” and she came from a large Neapolitan family.  Most of her brothers and all of her sisters moved to Queens, to raise their families. ( Quick geography lesson.  Queens and Brooklyn are two of the five NYC boroughs on Long Island. Queens, being the largest.) My uncle Salvatore,(“Sal” for short), stayed in Brooklyn.  He and my Aunt Josephine had two girls, Loretta and Geraldine, both older than me. I didn’t get to see them very often, but I always remember how much I enjoyed being with them.  I was always especially fond of my cousin, Loretta.  Over the years, and my thousands of miles of vagabonding, (Ma used to call me “the gypsy”), we lost touch.  They, however stayed in Queens. I am happy to say that this morning, I received an email from Loretta! You just never know when someone you love comes back into your life. Loretta! Stay in touch! Love you!

01/25/2014

The Care and Feeding of Gnomes

When writing my first children’s book, Phillip’s Quest, Book 1, Winterfrost, I found it was necessary to spend many hours at the main library in the Village of Twistedoak, to research the species genomos or “earth dweller.” One cannot simply look at the commercialized and sometimes obnoxious “garden gnome” as popularized by a certain travel company and think, “Ugh! Why would you write about those creepy creatures!”  Mais, non! To know a gnome, is to love a gnome.  And so, my love of Phillip began.

Gnomes are self-sufficient and resilient, by nature.  Very easily pleased, their normal psyche is that of loving, caring beings, with huge hearts and a general joie de vivre. Although small in stature, smaller than their dwarf counterparts in height, their hands and feet are disproportionately larger.  Requiring very little physical care, the gnome is naturally quite healthy due to its diet, rich in organic fruits and vegetables, legumes, nuts and  occasional raw dairy and eggs. Even though rarely sad or depressed, a tasty cookie or wiskit, will change the mood of the gnome from sad to glad! Not comfortable with confrontation, the gnome is a master diplomat.  One of the favorite gnome mottos is, “Don’t worry, be happy.” (Yes, it originally came from the gnome community and found on Rune stone in 1579 A.D. by Swiss alchemist, Paracelsus.) Since the gnome is not normally equipped for protecting itself, it has many natural predators; goblins, trolls, orcs, snakes, wolves, giant spiders, bats, ice hornets, etc… and evil witches. Their only means of protection comes from the help of a higher being, i.e. humans, blue witches, wizards.

The gnome’s eating habits differ, slightly, from region to region.  The gnomes of Twistedoak are vegetarians while other gnomes add dairy, fish and poultry to their diet.   The female gnome, given to having a large family, are excellent cooks.  They can turn anything into a feast.   The gnomes of Twistedoak arrived from their Old Country as mushroom farmers, many millennia ago. They “settled at the edge of the Great Granite Mountains and the Vast Enchanted Forest… They grew the most lovely mushrooms.  Some looked like little white pearls.  The farmers called them ‘candy ‘shrooms.’ They were as sweet as sugar and the wee ones would steal them as quickly as they popped out of the ground.  Their mothers and fathers always knew when they’d eaten too much, because they would come running home, crying, with tummy aches.  Some of the mushrooms were golden and big enough to feed a family of four…” However, due to circumstances beyond their control, these resilient gnomes have learned to adapt their diets to the main crops of  “taters and onions.”

Not for a lack of recipes, the female gnomes are very sharing, often having recipe trading parties.  Before the passing of Ivy, she was kind enough to share some wonderful recipes that she loved, as well as recipes from the Great Granma Polli. A recipe from Oli, the squirrel and a favorite of Phillip’s were also shared for our book.  They are:

Ivy’s Tater Buns

Ivy’s Tater Dumplings

Ivy’s Tater and Onion Pancakes

Oli’s Nutty Cakes

Phillip’s Mater Sauce with Hazelnuts

All recipes can be found in Phillip’s Quest, Book 1: Winterfrost.  An upcoming cookbook, adapted for human consumption, is in the works!

 

 

 

01/24/2014

Chicken Soup for the Soul?

     It is below freezing in sunny, Manassas, Virginia and what could be better than a pot of freshly made chicken soup.  Before I was relegated to the wheels, I was an avid cook.  My mother was an avid cook.  My aunts were avid cooks.  My grandmother…anyways, you get the point. We’re Italian! I, as the rest of the second generation, were brought up in Queens or Brooklyn in the 50’s and 60’s. The neighborhoods in Queens were as much of a melting schmaltz pot as they came. Brooklyn?  That’s Italian. I say “schmaltz” because my Queens neighborhood, off of Linden Boulevard in Cambria Heights, was a great mixture of Jews, mostly Polish and German, and Italian, mostly Southern.  “Schmaltz,” is chicken fat, which is often rendered down to fry chicken livers and other wonderful Jewish foods.  By the time I was 10, I didn’t care what I was…Jewish, Catholic, Protestant, it didn’t matter.  Besides being a melting pot of religions and nationalities, there was also a melting pot of chicken soup.  

     On cold days, throughout the neighborhood, 217th Street, one could smell the incredible aroma of chicken soup cooking. I lived mid-block, so I could smell the soup cooking from the Riley’s, to the Karps, to the Rolantis. The big to do was always how the soup was made.  My Jewish Mother, Marcia, concurred with my Italian Mother, Linda, that one had to add garlic.  Mrs. Riley…not so much.  But this discussion often went on during every coffee clatch in the neighborhood.  Regardless, the soup was exquisite and yes, it warmed your body and your soul.

    Come on over, I’ve got a pot on!

01/24/2014

On a Frozen Tundra…or Living With Wheels (Boomer Edition)

     I was 22 when I was diagnosed with MD and, at the time, no one knew what life would bring.  At the time, I had lost a baby and was told, “It’s probably just a well, you won’t live to be 30!” How wrong they were.  But, after many years of living with the dread of not being long for this world, I said “Screw it, it’s time to live on!” and live on, I did. I was shocked, for more than one reason, when I made it to 50!  Now, at 63, I have fully adapted to my physical situation and pretty much live on wheels.

  My very inventive husband, Gary, has made sure that my wheels are fully customized.  Yep, that thar Harley is mine!  For my birthday, the year after I got my scooter, he went to the Harley Davidson store, and bought accessories to fit the beast.  He will not, however let me have an air horn…or cattle prod, for moving large objects in front of me. (Even if I promise to be nice.  Hmmm.) Still, I can get through some crowds. But, like me, the old boy, my scooter, is getting old.  It doesn’t have the “oomph” it used to have and it doesn’t like the cold, the snow, and definitely not the ice!  Am trying to get Gary to devise a scooter sled. Anyone have any ideas?

01/23/2014

Snow and my cancelled 15 minutes of fame!

Yup! Here I sit, in my warm, cozy condo thinking how my name might have been in lights! I jest, of course. Instead, I am learning more about blogging, websites and marvelous other stuff like kuzu! I just love the sound if that. My mother, as a child, learned the kazoo and, I guess that reminds me of her. In fact, she used to play it while I played the piano. What a pair. If only there were iPhones then.

01/22/2014

Blasting off at 63, or how to detonate a Boomer!

Who knew? Days before my 63rd birthday, I would have started my first piece of children’s literature. A little gnome and a big heart asked me to help write the story of Phillip’s Quest. I will forever love Phillip. (Infact, my friend, Kay, decided to make sure I even had a gnome who talked. Obnoxious little devil. Not Phillip at all!) He, although small in stature, is huge in character. A sweet little gnome, he lost his beloved, Ivy but is still struggling forward to Winterfrost castle, to save Twistedoak from the evils of the Red Queen. The brave gnome will have to learn to not only “follow,” but “trust” his heart.

01/22/2014

A Boomer in the Millenia

So, here I go, along with my other friends and Boomers at Write by the Rails, an author’s best friend.  There is nothing like being around brilliance and this group certainly qualifies for a super nova! So, today, I was told that I needed, as an author, a platform.  “Alrighty,” I said.  Who knew that blogging was a platform?  I’m an “Old Schooler,” but, I’m learning.  As they say in Twistedoak, “Patience, toadstool, patience.”