Lunch Box Chronicles: Day One Hundred Fifty-Seven (Pizza Rustica)

I recently made a few recipes that clearly were not my typical fare. They were ladened with fat and all sorts of unthinkables – full cream homemade ricotta, fresh mozzarella, and parmesan reggianno. One recipe, Pizza Rustica not only had the cheeses, but Italian sausages of all varieties. The other recipe, eggplant rolotini, was made with fried eggplant stuffed with the cheese mixture. Each is the subject of separate sinful post.

Neither recipe is something that I would make or eat often for fear that my back-side might start to expand beyond recognition, but these meals were good and worth making at least once.

Pizza Rustica, a traditional Italian Easter dish, was recommended to me by Mike at Teitel’s (of Arthur Ave in the Bronx fame). Mike was way too busy on Saturday to write down a recipe, but he grabbed all the necessary ingredients and tossed them on the counter for me: fresh strained ricotta, fresh mozzarella, parmesan reggiano and a pound or so of a variety of meat ends (various sausages the likes of which I am unfamiliar and fearful to know the ingredients) and said to me slightly miffed “Pizza Rustica, you haven’t heard of it?” “Look it up on the internet; you’ll find a recipe!”

So, that’s what we did. Tim did a quick search and came up with a recipe that I modified to suit the ingredients that I had purchased.

Ingredients

1.5 lbs of mixed Italian meats (go to your l0ocal Italian grocery and ask your personal “Mike” for a mix of the meat ends)

1 lb- ricotta cheese- (get the fresh strained variety and strain again so that the mix won’t come out too wet)

12 ounces-fresh mozzarella cheese- (medium diced)

5-6 eggs- room temperature

1 tablespoon-Italian flat leaf parsley- chopped fine

1/4 cup-fresh Parmesan cheese ( freshly grated)

1/2 teaspoon- salt

15-20 turns- ground black pepper.

· Cut the meats into small pieces, place in frying pan and brown lightly. Set aside and cool.

· In a large bowl, combine ricotta, mozzarella, salt and pepper; add eggs one at a time, beating with a wooden spoon after each addition.

· Add cooked meats, chopped parsley and grated cheese to ricotta mixture. Blend well.

Make it easy on yourself (and add the only bit of nutritional value to this recipe) and use ONE Spelt Right Pizza Dough – fully thawed and risen.

Cut the dough in two – making one piece slightly larger than the other.

Lightly coat a pie dish (I used a stoneware pie dish) with olive oil. Stretch the larger piece of dough and form to the bottom of the dish all the way to the edges.

Line the pastry crust with a nice single layer of the sliced meat, all around including the edges. Bake at 400 for about 5-10 minutes. Take out of oven.

Take the crust out of the oven and fill the dough lined pan with the ricotta and diced meat mixture.

After filling the dough lined pan, stretch second piece of dough and place over the filling, pressing the edges closed. Be careful not to tear the dough. The top must be sealed.

Pierce dough with a fork several times.

Bake in oven preheated to 375°F, 45 minutes to an hour. We took ours out too soon and cut a piece. It became liquidy, so we drained some of the liquid and popped it back in the oven. .

Pizza Rustica, can be served warm or cold. It is actually pretty tasty and certainly pleased the folks at work who hail from a range of ethnic backgrounds, Italian, Polish, Lebanese, Puerto Rican, and Taiwanese.

Regardless of the great taste and broad appeal, this meal should be followed by a full hour of exercise of your choice.

Lunch Box Chronicles: Day One Hundred Fifty-Seven (On Cellular Memory and My Grandfather's Cuisine)

Is there such a thing as a cellular memory in which your body, heart, and soul remembers something, not because you personally have ever had the experience to remember, but somewhere in your ancestral past, someone that preceded you, had the experience and your body remembers it?

Bizarre, no? But, I swear I have had this experience with food, and I witnessed something similar with my youngest daughter.

Several years ago, I frequented a now closed Persian restaurant in Portland, Maine, and had a dish that I had never tasted before – Fesenjan. I was immediately taken by the first bite. I absolutely loved it! Despite never having tasted anything like this before, it tasted like home, transported me back in time, and created a sense of déjà vu.

It was a Mediterranean dish made with ground walnuts, pomegranate paste, onions, sugar, salt and pepper blended together. I couldn’t get enough. I was enthralled; I brought my 8o year old mother to the restaurant to sample the dish. “Mom, try this. It is so good.” She tasted it and gave me this faraway look, “Yes, yes,” she said, “I know this dish, my papa use to make it; he brought the recipe from the old country.”

But, her papa had died years before I was born, and I never met him. The recipe was lost with him. My mother did not carry that recipe forward. It was something tucked away in the past. “But, mom,” I protested, “How come you never made this for me?” She lamented, “With 9 kids in the house during the Depression, we needed to stay out of the kitchen and leave the cooking to mama and papa. When I was older, I learned a few recipes, but not this one.”

Now having tasted Fesenjen, it was a part of my present sense. I wanted it again, but the Persian restaurant closed, and I became wrapped up in daily life, and the longing for the taste was tucked away.

Yet, last month, my recent memory was sparked, and my cellular memory went into overdrive when I happened upon a bottle of pomegranate paste in an international grocery store. “I’ve got to have that bottle!” I proclaimed to my business partner. A little perplexed, and slightly amused, he took out $5 to buy the bottle of the mystery syrup, the likes of which he had never previously seen.

I scanned the internet and found a recipe for Fesenjen. I was worried that my expectations would not be met, but I made the dish, tasted it with delight, and gave it to my family with great anticipation as to what they would think of this exotic dish. 

The appearance is brown and grainy with a tart, sweet, and tangy flavor. Certainly, something that typically does not appeal to the average American kid.

And yet, when 9 year-old Olivia gave it a try, her face lit up. “This is one of the best things I have ever tasted!” It was as familiar and comforting to her as a hug from a grandparent or a great grandparent. She knew this taste; she loved this taste; but she only now first experienced it. Like I did several years earlier, she too was experiencing a cellular memory of her ancestral past.

And, here is the recipe for generations to come, borrowed from Whats4Eats website.

http://www.whats4eats.com/poultry/fesenjan-recipewebsite.

4 to 6 servings

Ingredients

• Butter or oil -- 1/4 cup (I used extra virgin olive oil)

• Chicken, cut into serving pieces -- 2 1/2 to 3 pounds (I used boneless chicken)

• Onions, thinly sliced – 2 (I chopped the onions finely)

• Walnuts, finely ground in a food processor -- 2 cups

• Stock or water -- 1 1/2 to 2 cups (I suggest the lesser amount)

• Pomegranate syrup or molasses -- 2/3 cup

• Sugar -- 1-3 tablespoons

• Salt and pepper -- to taste

Method

1. Heat the butter or oil in a large, heavy-bottomed pot over medium flame. Add the chicken pieces a few at a time and brown on all sides. Remove to a plate and set aside.

2. Add the onions to the pot and sauté until translucent.

3. Stir in the ground walnuts and stock or water and return the browned chicken pieces to the pot. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat to low, cover and simmer for 20-30 minutes.

Stir in the pomegranate juice, sugar, salt and pepper. Simmer for another 15-20 minutes until the chicken is tender, the sauce is somewhat thickened and the walnuts begin to give off their oil. Adjust seasoning and serve with plain white rice.

Lunch Box Chronicles: Day One Hundred Fifty-Six (On the Need for a Clean-Up Crew and Roasted Rosemary Chicken)

So, on this most recent Sunday, I did one of my all out baking bashes. The big difference, however, was that my husband was not home. He was traveling back from Maine with the kids. I foolishly thought to myself “What an opportunity! Cooking without distraction.” Indeed, I was without distraction, but I was also without my most faithful clean-up crew of one, my husband, Tim.

I expected the brood to be home 2 hours later than they arrived, but with a combination of no traffic and free sailing on their trek south, they traveled from Maine to NYC in a record 4.5 hours. When I heard the knock on the door, I was convinced it was a neighbor seeking spelt bread. But, no!! It was the family ready to be nourished after a long, but not long-enough trip.

“Yikes!” I said, “DO NOT go in the kitchen. It is a disaster!” My creations for the evening included meatballs, homemade sauce, farro pasta, Spelt Right Pizza Dough stuffed with the meatballs, and chicken stew. Definitely too much even for this mult-tasker.

I managed to trip over the table and chairs (which I moved for a food photo op) and meander around the pots, pans and half opened ingredients in order to throw together plates of homemade madness for the kids.

I was so exhausted from the making of the meals that I could barely partake in the eating of it. “Jees,” I said to Tim, with my feet up on the couch, “I don’t usually make such a mess!”

He gently corrected me. “Umm, maybe you do, but I’m usually right behind you cleaning up.”

By George! Tim is right! And, despite being exhausted from his trip from Maine (and his 2 hour round-trip within Maine to bring Emma back to college), Tim rolled up his sleeves and went to work unwinding the disaster I had created. There are many reasons to love this man and this is one of them.

Bon Appetit. Here is the recipe for chicken stew, one of the recipes of the night. Recommendation: do not attempt this without your clean-up crew.

Roasted Chicken

One Chicken Cut-Up

2 Potatoes cut in chunks (or in 1/4 longs)

2-3 Carrots cut in 3” pieces

1-2 Celery Stalks cut in 3” pieces

1 onion – cut in 1/6 wedges

Lemon juice (juice of 1-2 lemons)

1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil

1 cup of liquid (chicken stock or red or white wine)

3 gloves of garlic chopped finely and blended with sea salt

1/4 bunch fresh Italian parsley

rosemary, salt and pepper to taste

Place all solid ingredients in roasting pan. Cover with EVOO, hand rub seasonings. Add garlic. Add liquid (I had only red wine in the house and it worked fine, though I would have preferred a chicken stock or white wine).

Cover pan, and bake at 425 for 30 min – 1 hour until chicken is done and vegetables are soft.

Lunch Box Chronicles: Day One Hundred Fifty-Five (Culinary Intuitiveness and a Recipe for Some Really Tasty Meatballs)

Intuition comes in all shapes and sizes. Sometimes it is simply a sense about a person. “Hey, I like that guy!” or “That person gives me the creeps. Don’t know why. It’s just my intuition.”

Sometimes intuition manifests itself in more concrete forms – like in the ability to create a meal that tastes so good it engenders in each of its beneficiaries a sense of belonging.

I view this as CULINARY INTUITIVENESS or a Midas Touch for Taste.

Given that creating good food is one of my favorite pastimes, I am lucky to have a business partner and friend with culinary intuitiveness.

Is this a case of nature vs. nuture? Can someone be born with the ability to satisfy the palate? Or is it because Frank grew up Italian in Brooklyn? Or that he owned several restaurants with his brothers and wife? For whatever reason, it is clear that he has a Midas Touch for Taste.

Every recipe he has ever shared with me has been golden. While I endeavor to make a close second with careful attention to the ingredients and the instructions for chopping and sautéing, the flavors I create are good, but inevitably miss the mark. In my culinary attempts, I am like a student of a great painter. I might be able to paint discernable water lilies, but Monet I will never be.

Frank gives very clear instructions on the ingredients and process, but he simply cannot impart his culinary intuitiveness on others. That is his alone.

So here is Frank’s recipe for some of the best meatballs I have ever tasted. And, while my rendition of this simple masterpiece was good (and if you follow these instructions, yours will be too), the meal I created lacked the subtleties of the flavors that come solely with an intuition that by its nature cannot be shared.

Ingredients:
1 pound ground pork (Frank uses a center cut pork chop, bones it, and put its in the food processor until it is ground, but not mushy)
1 pound ground beef (Frank uses sirloin steak, bones it, and puts it in the food processor until it is ground, but not mushy)
3 medium size eggs
2 carrots
1-2 stalks of celery
1 onion
2-4 cloves of garlic
1/4 bunch Italian parsley
1.5 to 2TBL salt (or to taste)
1.5 to 2TBL pepper (or to taste)
2 TBL grated parmesan cheese (YIKES, this is what I forgot!!)
Half loaf of stale bread (I used Spelt Right bread)
1/2 cup of bread crumbs (I used Spelt Right bread crumbs)

Extra Virgin Olive Oil for frying

Chop the vegetable ingredients in small chucks and then place in food processor until they are chopped finely, but not mush. Put aside in a separate dish.

Place the ground meat and three cracked eggs in a separate dish.

Soak the bread in water to make it soft and then drain the water by squeezing the bread.

Combine all of the ingredients, including the salt, pepper and grated cheese and blend together with your hands. Form round balls with your hands a bit smaller than a golf ball.

In a deep pan heat enough olive oil so that the oil reaches half way up the meatball. Fry on each side until browned and cooked in the center. Drain on plate with paper towel. I also baked some of these in a baking dish covered with olive oil. The baked ones have less fat, but were not nearly as good. Crunchy = fried, mushy= baked. Your choice.

You can eat these alone garnished with a salad, or put in your favorite pasta sauce. Here’s a link to a post with Frank’s pasta sauce recipe (no need to add the ground beef if you are serving with meatballs)."

Lunch Box Chronicles: Day One Hundred Fifty-Four (The Five Star Alfredo Sauce Recipe Scratched on a Paper Bag)

You never know what you will find scratched on a paper bag.

My son, Spencer, and I were lucky to be the beneficiaries of a FIVE STAR alfredo recipe inked on said receptacle.

Spencer has been lobbying for fettuccine alfredo for several weeks. The problem is that he can't eat regular wheat without feeling really lousy, so going to an Italian restaurant is not an option.

Fortunately, we now live in NYC, one of the most gastronomically diverse cities in the world. And, we live close to one of the best neighborhoods for Italian provisions, Arthur Avenue in the Bronx.

Shall I admit that I have become slightly addicted to the seemingly infinite supply of homemade pastas, fresh mozzarella and ricotta, imported cheeses, locally cured meats, and sinful desserts? Not to mention the wine, cappuccino, and friendly conversation?

On this President's Day, the family set out on an excursion to buy Italian groceries to make the coveted alfredo sauce. Destination? Teitel Bros. on Arthur Avenue.

We were headed there not only for the cheeses and imported butter, but for the farro (emmer variety) pasta. Farro is a concept "deeply rooted in Italian tradition." The term "farro" is reserved for three cultivated hulled ancient wheat species, including einkorn (farro piccolo), emmer (farro medio), and spelt (farro grande). The beauty is that we know that Spencer can eat each of these varieties without getting the modern wheat blues.

As I was searching for the farro pasta hidden behind other tempting provisions, the owner Ed, asked what I was looking for. I reminded him that I'm the spelt lady, who was in the week before, and was looking for the farro we purchased the other day. "Ohhh, the lawyer, I remember," he said. He moved aside the bottles of olive oil, and opened the gateway to the Farro Pasta. I felt like a hoarder as I stacked 6 boxes in my arms. "The kid wants fettucine alfredo," I said as I tried to clarify that I was not chowing down all the pasta myself.

"Would you like a recipe?" Ed inquired. "Mike here is an expert. He owned a five star Italian restaurant in NJ. He has the best alfredo recipe." Spencer beamed at me as if we had just hit the jackpot. "Absolutely," I said. As I tried to scratch down the recipe, however, Ed, Mike, and now John saw that my attempts to keep up with the recitation of the recipe was becoming futile. Mike took over, got a paper bag, and a pen, and unlocked the key to the secret of a divine alfredo sauce (see photo above).

Good thing Spencer was around as a second set of ears. I did not quite get all of the directions straight and the writing on the paper bag was slightly cryptic. Between the two of us, mom and son, we were able to decipher the alfredo recipe. The result was close to divine. For fear that I might not recite the recipe as it should be, I will reveal only the secret ingredients (fresh ground nutmeg, Italian butter, and an egg yolk) and you will have to go to Teitel's yourself for the recipe and the magic.

Lunch Box Chronicles: Day One Hundred Fifty-Three (On Being Prepared)

Sundays are my days to prepare the

meals for the week.

Regardless of what I have penciled in my calendar, the week inevitably takes twists and turns and morphs into something completely unrecognizable from that which appeared on my calendar.

Is it just me? Or, does this happen to everyone?

Sundays are kind of like my emergency preparedness day – my kitchen looks like we are anticipating an ice storm or nor' easter or worse, but really I am just preparing for another predictably unpredictable week, two very hungry kids after long days at school, and two very tired parents after grueling work days.

Usually Sunday’s pickings can be rationed through Wednesday, sometimes they last through Thursday.

By Friday, we start foraging for berries, insects, and roots – luckily Sunday is not too far around the corner.

Making these meals is an adventure because NY offers a complete tapestry of food choices.Above, I am shopping on Arthur Avenue in the Bronx, the other "Little Italy" at Teitel's Italian Shop. I got some incredible cheeses and farro-emmer pasta (there are three types of farro - emmer, einkorn and spelt) there and cut a few deals on prices buying in bulk.

So on that particular Sunday, I made Chicken Parmesan, Farro Pie (which was essentially baked ziti, but I varied the recipe with fresh mozzarella and farro pasta), and Walnut Pepper Pies made with Spelt Right Pizza Dough. I just threw together the chicken parmesan so have no recipe to share, but the Farro Pie, and Walnut Pepper Pies are worth replicating. Here is the linked recipe for the Walnut Pepper Pies. And the recipe for the Baked Farro Pie.

Ingredients:

One organic onion (finely chopped)

4-5 cloves of garlic (finely chopped or minced with salt)

1/4 – 1/2 cup of extra virgin olive oil

Pomi – crushed tomatoes – all natural, no citric acid – in a carton (no BPA in packaging)

One Pound Grass Fed Ground Beef (optional)

1-2 Teaspoons of Sea Salt

Ground pepper to taste

6-10 leaves of Fresh Basil (chopped finely). Can use dried basil

Two packages of FARRO pasta (from Zeitel's). I used ziti and spaghetti because I did not have enough ziti (if you do this, note the different cook times)

One small container of whole milk ricotta

One half to one pound of natural mozzarella (shredded or pulled apart)

Instructions:

Place chopped onion and garlic in olive oil in large stainless steel pan. Saute until onions are brown. Add ground beef. Saute until browned. Add Pomi tomatoes, salt and pepper to taste. Add one teaspoon of organic sugar if desired. Stir all ingredients. Cook on medium low for 20-25 minutes. Stirring occasionally. Add chopped basil.

In the meantime, boil and drain pasta according to instructions on panel. Rinse, and then toss with extra virgin olive oil to keep from sticking.

Preheat oven to 375F.

In a 9 inch glass baking dish, spread a little of the sauce on the bottom to keep the pasta from sticking. In the sauce pan, toss the pasta sauce and pasta. When thoroughly tossed, place the pasta in the baking dish. Spread ricotta on top. Then sprinkle with mozzarella. Bake until bubbling on top. Guaranteed to be a hit with the kids.

Lunch Box Chronicles: Day One Hundred Fifty-Two (I should NEVER forget how much I love my kids!)

It took an inquiry from Jim, a good friend visiting from Maine, to bring my attention to a poem that 9 year old Olivia had written. "Beth, did you see this?" "No, Jim. I haven't had time."

Then, I realized it was not because Olivia didn't try to show it to me, but that I scooted her away one too many times. "I'm too busy Olivia! Can you play in your room while mom makes dinner, does the dishes, does the laundry, cleans out the cat litter, works on her business, works on her business, works on her business." Gulp! In my rush to be everything, I neglected to see some of the most beautiful things right in front of my eyes. My children. Gulp, again!

Little Olivia is a force of her own. She is a talented writer, has a keen sense of justice ("it isn't fair!!!") and an independent mind. Do NOT expect silence if you cross Olivia. She will give you a piece of her mind...and then some.

But, she is also a kind hearted trooper. She has been trudging along since she was 5 watching as mom often disappeared for what seemed like endless moments into the morrows of her business - day after day, morrow after morrow. Sometimes, it just hurts. She told me so.

But, she also expresses how proud she is. "My mom invented something. She created Spelt Right." And, she says that with pride, even though under her breath she grumbles about that demanding sibling - the one that doesn't talk back, or poke fun, but the one that grabs mom's attention, moment after moment, day after day, 'morrow after 'morrow.

Like with any sibling rivalry, there is love there too. And, in the piece that Jim discovered crumpled on the couch, Olivia expressed her love for that sibling.

Here's her poem.

"Spelt....what is spelt? Spelt, is not smelt or some sort of felt, its a grain a healthy scrumptious grain. Spelt is easier to DYGEST and here is the rest. No more stomach aches and no more pain just as long as you eat this grain. How can I get spelt product? Here's how. Just go to wwww.speltrightbaking.com now!" Olivia

No recipe with this post. Just a hug and kiss and a squeeze for Olivia - today, tomorrow, and forever.