Eat! Play! Live!
The Heel of the Boot
Puglia, Basilicata, Italy
November 5-14, 2008
Mamma In the Kitchen: A Story
Over ten years ago, my family and I began a yearly tradition of traveling to Italy in November and December. During our first family trip, when our twins were eight years old, we rented a car to explore Erice, a spectacular Sicilian hill town situated high on a mountaintop, overlooking the sea. As we approached, on the proverbial steep and winding road, the fog descended, and by the time we reached the town, we could barely see a foot in front of us.
Out of nowhere, a hotel clerk appeared. He was middle-aged, with a preoccupied air that reminded us of a Sicilian John Cleese. He promised to park our car, give us a room, and most importantly, make sure we had a good meal. We didn’t have many options, so we let him take our car (with our children inside!) and met him at his hotel. The good meal, he promised, was at a nearby ristorante. The cobbled streets were deserted, but we eventually found the town’s main square. Surrounded by fog, we could make out a neon (!) sign, with the name of the ristorante blinking down on us. Again, there were few choices, so we walked in. We discovered a cramped, nondescript bar, then a staircase that led to an enormous dining room. One good sign -- the tables were adorned with shining crystal; one bad sign -- except for the four of us and one waiter, the dining room was totally empty.
At that time, we hadn’t had much experience with Sicilian cuisine, but the first hint that we might be onto something great came when we noticed a photograph of the Pope eating in that very same room. We can now assure you that the Pope eats well. With the arrival of each course -- the pasta, the fish -- it became evident that we were in the hands of an extraordinary cook. Our children were ecstatic. Pretty soon we were indulging in that very American habit of swapping forks, cooing praise, and insisting that everyone try this or that.
We sent compliments to the chef, who turned out to be a grandmotherly type, with untidy hair and a worn apron. She began to sneak in and watch the children, to see how the bambini were reacting to each dish. We referred to her as "Mamma," and by the time we indulged in her indescribably delicious cannoli, Mamma had joined us in the dining room. She beamed with the kind of joy Italians always seem to show around contented children. Our son made the final pronouncement: "I guess that’s what makes a good restaurant -- having a Mamma in the kitchen."
With every trip to Italy we’ve learned more of the language and the customs, but one thing has remained the same. Our son goes out before lunchtime and checks the restaurant kitchens to see if a Mamma is cooking. If a Mamma is there, we eat -- if not, we move on. We’ve never been disappointed.
For all the other Mammas out there, here is a fabulous recipe for ragu:
Ragu (serves 10)
2 to 3 pounds boneless beef, veal or pork roast
olive oil
salt, fresh pepper and oregano
4 small onions, finely chopped
2 cups white wine
4 tablespoons concentrated Italian tomato paste (it comes in a tube) dissolved
in a cup
of warm water
5 cloves of garlic, minced
4-5 pounds fresh roma tomatoes, pureed
penne pasta
parmigiano reggiano, grated
Rub the meat lightly with olive oil, then season with salt, pepper and oregano. Tie the meat.
Saute the onions, very slowly, in a large cast iron or terra cotta pot.
When the onions are clear, turn up the heat and brown the roast on all sides.
Remove the meat.
Add the wine, scraping up the residue, until it becomes a broth. Add the dissolved tomato paste and garlic. Then add the tomatoes.
Put the meat back in.
Cook over a low flame for at least 4 hours.
Remove the meat. Serve the sauce of penne and pass the grated parmigiano reggiano. Enjoy the roast as your second course.
Buon appetito!
