​Some years ago, a longtime friend who is an avid cook, asked me if my family had a good recipe for meat sauce.  I responded no, a little surprised with the question, as I think that we had it at home when I was a kid, though I don’t have any memories of it.  And, these days, it’s not something that I make very often at all.  But, meat sauce with spaghetti used to be seen on just about every Italian-themed restaurant menu in this country and is still to be found.  It can be quite satisfying if done well, to be sure. 
 
This Italian-American meat sauce is distinct from the famed and delicious ragù Bolognese that’s typically served with wide strands of freshly made pasta and originally comes from Bologna, the capital of the rich-food region of Emilia-Romagna.  The main reason is that hardly any of the Italian immigrants came here from that area.  Also, it’s made differently than what is called meat sauce.  True ragù Bolognese was almost unknown on restaurant menus until the mid-1970s with the introduction of “Northern” Italian cooking to the U.S. that included Marcella Hazan’s inaugural cookbook.  This had a terrific recipe for the dish, which gained a lot of traction among adventurous home cooks.  Meat sauce is also not what Italian-Americans often call “gravy” or “Sunday gravy,” a very long-cooked sauce featuring several types of meat that comes from the Naples area.
 
Prompted by my friend’s query, I did some research into the origin of the Italian-American meat sauce.  From what I found and as far as I can tell, it is typically just ground beef sauteed until done with a little onion or garlic, or both, and then added to a cooked tomato sauce.  It is easy with tomato sauce on hand, better homemade even pulled from the freezer on a weekday night.
 
Something much tastier is a preparation that my brother and his wife have been making for years.  Soon after it was published in 2000, my brother and I had copies of The Italian-American Cookbook by John Mariani, the longtime food and restaurant writer, and his wife Galina, a book that seemed to fit quite well how we liked to eat and cook.  John Mariani happened to be part of the small group along with me on a gastronomic trip to Pavia near Milan in late 2019.  I had to quickly tell him that my brother and sister-in-law were big fans Galina’s Meat Sauce (page 126-127) – as I was of their efforts – though they ended up modifying the recipe in his cookbook.  He seemed quite pleased, though I couldn’t tell if he minded the desire for changes to it.  Mariani mentioned that the meat sauce was entirely Galina’s creation, bay leaves weren’t part of his mother’s Neapolitan-rooted cooking, and has been a favorite of his and his sons for years.  I can see why.
 
The adjustments that Gene and Cara made gave the sauce a little more complexity and richness.  They added milk, additional dried spices – fennel, parsley and thyme – replaced the water with wine, seasoned the ground beef when it was cooking separately, omitted the  sugar, and simmered the sauce for three hours instead of forty-five minutes.  It was now not too unlike a ragù Bolognese, if with still the familiar Italian-American taste.  You might want to give this a try when you have a few hours to cook.
 
Cara’s and Gene’s version of Galina’s Meat Sauce – Not the most elegant name, but I couldn’t come up with anything better.
 
Ingredients
 
Olive oil – 1 cup
Yellow Onions – 3, chopped
Carrots – 2, grated
Celery stalk – 1, finely chopped
Garlic cloves – 6, minced
Ground Beef – 2 pounds; alternatively, 1 pound each of ground beef and ground Italian sausage
Milk – 1 cup
Red Wine, dry – 1 cup
Peeled Tomatoes – 3 28-ounces cans
Tomato Paste – 1 6-ounce can
Bay Leaves – 3
Oregano, dried – 2 teaspoons
Fennel, dried – ¼ teaspoon
Thyme, dried – ¼ teaspoon
Parsley, dried – 1 teaspoon
Salt – 5 teaspoons
Black Pepper – 1 teaspoon
 
Directions

1. In a large stockpot, heat over medium heat a little more than ½ cup of olive oil.  When sufficiently hot, add the onions then carrots and celery and cook until these have lightly browned, about 10 minutes.
2. In a separate large sauté pan, heat 2 tablespoons of olive oil on high heat then add the ground beef.  Add about 1 teaspoon of the salt and ½ teaspoon of the pepper and stir in thoroughly.  After about 5 minutes add the milk and cook for a few more minutes until a fair portion of the milk has evaporated.
3. In the stockpot with the vegetables, add the garlic then add 2 teaspoons of the salt and ¼ teaspoon of the pepper and cook for 2 more minutes.
4. Add the ground beef into the stockpot. 
5. In the stockpot add the bay leaves, oregano and the other dried spices, tomato paste, cans of tomatoes with its liquids and the red wine.  Stir well, crushing the tomatoes.  Season with the remaining 2 teaspoons of salt and ¼ teaspoon pepper.
6. Raise heat to high and bring to a boil.  Lower the temperature to low and cook for 3 hours.
7. Serve with pasta, with grated Parmigiano, or use in a lasagna.

 
I’ve made this sauce, albeit without the fennel seeds, which I don’t usually have.  It was still excellent.
 
It is better the next day as the Marianis mention, and it freezes very well, too.

The very well-used cookbook

​Many moons ago, a favorite dish among a group of friends, and seemingly a great many others, was the Cream of Poblano Soup at Nicole’s on San Felipe not too far from the Galleria where our friend was a manager.  I don’t quite remember the taste, other than it was somewhat luscious, piquant and absolutely delicious, and I am one who usually doesn’t order soups.  This was in the days before the Houston restaurant scene really took off – and I become a much more experienced and demanding diner – but the memory of the quality of that dish has stuck with me.
 
Recently at my parents and in a stroke of serendipity, I came across a recipe clipped from the Houston Chronicle from sometime in the 1990s for a recipe for “Truluck’s Cream of Poblano Soup.” The dish migrated to Truluck’s when it first opened with our friend and some of the other staff when Nicole’s shuttered by the early 1990s.  Here is an adaption of that recipe, done in the style of Nicole’s.  The chorizo is very important, as my friend stressed after I mentioned I had found the recipe.  I made the soup last month and it was terrific, and even better as a leftover a couple of days later.
 
Ingredients
 
Makes 6 bowls of soups, good for starters.
 
Poblano Peppers – 3
Onion – 1, chopped
Carrot – ½, diced
Butter – 2 tablespoons
Flour – 2 tablespoons
Chicken Stock – 2 cups
Water – 4 cups
Half-and-Half – ¾ cup
Chorizo - 6 ounces
Cilantro – 3 tablespoons, finely chopped
Salt – 1 teaspoon
Monterey Jack Cheese – 2+ cups, shredded
Tortilla Chips – 2+ cups
 
Directions
 

1. Roast the peppers, either in the oven or over a flame, then peel, seed and dice.
2. Melt the butter in a saucepan over medium heat and add the peppers, onions and carrots and cook until tender, about 5 minutes.
3. Add the flour, stir in well, and cook for 5 more minutes.
4. Add the chicken stock and water, mix thoroughly and simmer for 30 minutes.
5. While the soup is simmering, cook the chorizo in another pan, which should take about 5 minutes over medium heat.  Drain on paper towels.
6. Strain the soup to remove the vegetables, preserving the liquid.
7. Puree the vegetables until smooth.
8. Add the pureed vegetables back to the pan with the rest of the liquid.  Add the half-and-half, a tablespoon of cilantro and the salt.  Heat until it is simmering and then turn off the heat.
9. Serve each bowl of soup with 1 tablespoon each of the chorizo and cilantro, then top with about ¼ cup each of the shredded cheese and then the tortilla chips.
10. Have the extra cheese and tortilla chips available to add into the soup, if desired, as it is consumed.

 
I have used much better quality chorizo for this dish, Kiolbassa and Chorizo de San Manuel brands, rather than the really cheap-tasting, heartburn, etc. -inducing $1 chorizo that I have too often purchased in the past.  I would recommend spending a few more dollars for the chorizo for this preparation, as I did.  And, next time, as I desire more spice these days than I did in the distant past, I will add at least a couple of serrano peppers to the mix, even though it was delicious as cooked above.

​There is no family recipe of tomato sauce – or gravy – in my immediate family.  This is because my Italian heritage is limited to my great-grandfather from the Marche region in central Italy and my great-grandmother whose parents were from Tuscany and Venice.  These are all areas that don’t have a tomato sauce with pasta tradition, at least the familiar ways that Italian-Americans and Americans love.  So, no Riccetti family sauce.
 
Long having an interest in perfecting a tasty long-cooked pasta sauce recipe, I recently queried a few of my Riccetti cousins, who all live in the Chicago area.  My cousin Celeste responded with her go-to recipe, one that she calls a marinara sauce.  It’s cooked for just an hour, before the possible onset of any possible astringency.  The result is something between the 20- to 30-minute simmered quickly cooked tomato sauces I have been cooking often in recent years and the hours-long sauce that many and many restaurants make.  I have made this a couple of times now and it has been terrific, both with DOP-certified whole peeled tomatoes and the cheapest ones sold at the supermarket.  The vibrancy evident in most decent quality canned tomatoes remains in the finished sauce while also having some depth and complexity.  I’ve just paired the sauce with pasta so far, but Celeste mentioned that used it with veal braciole for Christmas to very good effect.
 
Of possible interest, the recipe has a strong Sicilian influence: the use of tomato paste, the addition of sugar, the combining of both garlic and onion at its base, and the use of oregano for something other than saucing pizza (or making a pizzaiolo sauce).  Celeste’s mother, my Aunt Josephine, is Sicilian-American, so it is expected.  For tomato sauces for a while, I’ve been using mostly those rooted in Naples that use fewer ingredients along with one from Marcella Hazan, but this one will be getting much more my attention going forward.
 
Tomatoes, peeled – 28-ounce can, crushed
Tomato paste – 6-ounce can
Water – 1 cup or so, more if desiring a thinner sauce
Onion, medium-sized – 1, finely chopped
Garlic – 3 cloves, finely chopped
Parsley, fresh – 1 teaspoon, finely chopped
Oregano, dried – 1 teaspoon
Salt –  1 teaspoon
Black pepper – ½ teaspoon
Sugar – 2 teaspoons
Olive oil – 1 tablespoon olive oil
Basil, fresh – 2 tablespoons, chopped

1. Sweat onion, garlic and parsley in the olive oil.
2. Add the tomato paste, stir in well and cook for 30 seconds.
3. Add the crushed tomatoes and water to create the desired thickness
4. Add the salt, pepper, oregano, and sugar.
5. Simmer for 1 hour.  No more.
6. After sauce has been cooked, add the chopped basil.

 
I made a couple of small adjustments when I’ve prepared the sauce.  For years, I’ve been in the habit of cooking onions down somewhat first when these are part of a recipe.  I also used a food mill to remove the stems of the tomatoes and provide a smooth consistency for the sauce.

​Yesterday evening, as part of the Week of Italian Cuisine, a worldwide program of the Italian government for promoting Italian cuisine and food products, the Italian consulate in Houston hosted a virtual dinner to honor the 200th anniversary of the birth of Pellegrino Artusi, the author of Science in the Kitchen and the Art of Eating Well.  First published in 1891, a scant two decades after the country of Italy was fully unified, Arusi’s work has resonated as “the symbol of Italian cuisine” – if mostly featuring the cooking of Tuscany and Romagna, with a number of regions completely ignored including most of the South.  It was a start to quantify and celebrate some of the amazing diversity and quality found in the disparate cuisines of Italy.  That Artusi’s work is still cherished by many Italian cooks to this day and taught in cooking schools there was quite impressive to learn from the event. 
 
The virtual dinner was created by Amalfi restaurant, which serves some of the very best Italian food in the state of Texas.  Chef and owner Giancarlo Ferrara has long done wonderful work cooking dishes both rooted in his native Salerno area south of Naples, and those from other cuisines he has cooked over the years.  Ferrara and team did a terrific job with the several courses, a difficult task for roughly thirty dinners to be cooked and packed then eaten several hours and at another site after preparation and delivery.  Amalfi’s dishes ranged from Gnocchi alla Romana, Vitello Tonnato with sides of roast vegetables, and a dessert of Apple Strudel were the courses.  Apple Strudel in Italy?  Yes, it is actually popular in Friuli near the northeastern edge of Italy, which was once under the control of the Austrian Empire, and there are plentiful apples.
 
The strudel was excellent last night, featuring a delicate crust, tender and flavor apples and nicely complemented with small sides of caramel and whipped cream.  I couldn’t help but quickly finishing it though I thought I was fun from the previous courses.  Below is the recipe from Artusi, some previous pastry skills are helpful.  Amalfi also seemingly sauteed the apple slices and added pine nuts for its version, which worked quite well.
 
Grande Strudel di Mele [Great Apple Strudel]
 
For the pastry dough:
 
Flour –  250 grams
Warm milk
Butter – About the size of a walnut
Egg – 1
Salt – Pinch
 
For the filling:
 
Apples, peeled, cored and thinly sliced – 500 grams
Butter, melted – 100 grams, plus some more for brushing the dough.
Sugar – 85 grams
Currants, dried – 85 grams
Lemon zest – 1 lemon
Cinnamon, ground – 2 or 3 pinches
 
Steps:
 

1. Make a rather firm dough with he flour, warm milk, butter, egg and pinch of salt.
2. Let the dough rest a little before rolling it out as thin as that used for taglierini noodles.
3. Cover the sheet of dough with a layer of the peeled, cored and thinly sliced apples.
4. Scatter the currants, lemon zest, cinnamon, sugar and then the 100 grams of melted butter over the layer of sliced apples.
5. Reserve a little of the melted butter for use later.
6. Roll up the dough with the filling to form the shape of a cylinder.
7. Brush the leftover melted butter on the dough.
8. Place the strudel in a greased copper baking pan and bake until done.

 
Adapted from Science in the Kitchen and the Art of Eating Well by Pellegrino.

The famed, nearly namesake dish of Original Joe’s in San Francisco can be thought of an Italian-American take on the frittata.  My father called it the frittata when he lived in San Francisco in the 1960s and frequented the restaurant.  The popularity of this dish has remained regional for some reason, though it is very versatile, working well for breakfast, lunch and dinner and reputedly is welcome when suffering from a hangover, plus pairing well with a cold light beer for any of those meals. 
 
It’s easy to make at home and quite tasty, if one of the ugliest Italian-American dishes around.
 
Serves 2
 
Olive oil – 2 tablespoons
Onion – ⅔ cup, chopped
Ground beef, chuck – ½ pound
Spinach, frozen – ¾ cup, thawed, somewhat dried, and finely chopped
Oregano, dried – ⅛ teaspoon
Basil, dried – ⅛ teaspoon
Salt – to taste
Black pepper – to taste
Eggs – 3
Parmigiano-Reggiano – ¼ cup, grated
 
1. Heat the oil in a pan. Add the onion and cook over medium-high heat, stirring from time to time, until it just starts to brown.
2. Add the meat, stirring, until no longer pink.
3. Add the spinach to the pan.
4. Add the oregano, basil, salt and pepper.
5. Break the eggs into a bowl and mix well. Add to the skillet and scramble with the beef mixture.
6. When eggs are cook, remove from heat.
7. Sprinkle with grated Parmigiano-Reggiano and serve.
 
Option – Sauté sliced cremini mushrooms in butter or olive oil to adorn the dish, similar to what is done at the restaurant these days.

The as it is at Original Joe's, which is housed at the once longtime home of Fior d'Italia.  Photo by Cullen328 - Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=78734433

​One of those very memorable meals you have in your life, one of the first for me, was at Anthony’s when it was in the Chelsea Market on Montrose.  I was being feted by my parents in 1987 for a birthday and I had the osso buco, the first time I had osso buco.  Anthony’s preparation was braised in sage, lemon, thyme and basil and served in a rich Barolo wine sauce with a side of risotto.  The plump, slowly cooked and properly tender veal shank was absolutely delicious; rich, nearly decadent, but also refined and deeply flavored, and well-complemented by the wine sauce and perfectly cooked, soft risotto.  Different than the typical Milan-bred version, that is still the best osso buco that I’ve ever had.
 
Of the restaurants that Vallone had over the years, including Anthony’s, Grotto, La Griglia, Vallone’s (twice), Los Tonyos – a short-lived Tex-Mex concept on Shepherd that I actually quite liked – and Ciao Bello, it began and ended with the eponymous Tony’s, which remains on Richmond in Greenway Plaza.
 
Tony’s was Tony Vallone’s first and most iconic restaurant was his only restaurant when he passed away last week.  The first incarnation opened in 1965 on far-less-busy Sage Road as what has been called a “spaghetti house” when Vallone was only in his early twenties.  In a few years it transformed into a mostly French restaurant taking its cues from the grand dames of French dining in Manhattan like La Caravelle and Lutèce.  It was then and remained a destination for local socialites, the business elite, visiting celebrities and even presidents, who were more than ably cosseted in its clubby Post Oak Boulevard address where it moved in 1972.  Tony’s proudly served “The poetry of French food” as it proclaimed in a 1975 Texas Monthly advertisement, and doing it very well.  The year before the same magazine thought it was the best restaurant in Houston.  Tony’s kitchen eventually became more Italian following the passion of its owner, whose parentage, I understood, had antecedents in Sorrento, down the coast from Naples, and Corleone in Sicily where many Houston Italian-Americans have roots.  His culinary heart seemed to be in Naples, which showed on the menu and, more so, in later restaurants.
 
John Mariani, the longtime restaurant critic for Esquire now at Forbes, was a big fan of Tony Vallone’s restaurants.  For his list of best new restaurants in the country for the magazine, Anthony’s was on it in 1985, Grotto in 1989, La Griglia in 1991, Anthony’s in its new location in 1994, and Tony’s after its move in 2005.  Anthony’s was even named the best new restaurant in the country in its last incarnation in Highland Village.  High praise, indeed, coming from a well-traveled, seasoned writer based in the New York area and an expert on Italian food, the author of The Dictionary of Italian Food and Drink.  In fact, Mariani listed both Anthony’s and Tony’s among the most authentic Italian restaurants in this country in 1985 joining Tony May’s ambitious, beautiful Palio and Lidia Bastianich’s Felida in New York, and Piero Selvaggio’s Valentino and Primi plus the groundbreaking Rex Il Ristorante in Los Angeles.
 
My favorite of the Vallone establishments was Grotto.  In part, because it was the most approachable and affordable, very important for someone just out of college during its early heydays.  The food was – and is, as the menu has been stuck in amber since Landry’s purchased it – mostly Neapolitan-inspired with some items and tastes from Sicily along with the very thin-crust Roman-style pizza tonda, all done very well.  Not quite authentically Italian but tasting Italian for the most part, and tasting great, regardless of provenance, more vibrant and stylish than most, especially at the prices.  It was usually one of the pasta preparations or veal for me then prefaced by a wonderful breadbasket that included then then exotic, Sardinian cracker-like pane carasau.  The setting and atmosphere in the evenings were terrific, drawing the very well-heeled and still-pretty-after-many-decades, but also a range of ages and with an smart, upscale casualness that made it inviting to me.  Well-made Neapolitan-themed fare will do that for me, too, in most places, to be honest.  I used to even stop by the restaurant to just pick up cans of the Vallone labeled San Marzano tomatoes when it sold those.
 
In addition to the quality of the fare and the attentive service at Tony’s, especially, Tony Vallone had an excellent sense of style and design.  I don’t believe that he received enough credit for that, and it extended to all of his restaurants, at least from the 1980s on.  Grotto featured a sprawling, fun and often bawdy, well-rendered mural adorning the walls and columns featuring Naples-inspired figures street scenes and those from the Italian commedia dell’arte that was part of the draw of the restaurant.  La Grigila was maybe even more attractive, with its seaside motif, if more restrained in the content of its décor.  Anthony’s, after those two, was completely different, but strikingly handsome.  The latest incarnation of Tony’s, which opened in 2005, has an intriguing modern setting, light but sumptuous, punctuated with dramatic late-century works by Robert Rauschenberg and Jesus Moroles.
 
But, for me, the fondest memories from the Vallone establishments are primarily about the food.  Here is a dish that can be made a home, a recipe from Grotto that was featured in the Vallone restaurants newsletter for the Fall / Winter 1993.  I’ve made this a number of times over the years to great success.  Surprising success, at that.  It’s easy, just be sure to have good quality ingredients.  It takes its name from the island off the coast of Naples, in case you are wondering.  Don’t know if it has any connection to Ischia, but the name sounds cool.
 
Mozzarella Ischia – Hot Fresh Mozzarella with Tomatoes, Olives, and Sweet Peppers
 
Ingredients:
 
Mozzarella di Bufala – 3 pounds
Extra Virgin Olive Oil – ½ cup
Garlic – 6 to 8 cloves, finely minced
Flat-leaf parsley – 1 cup, chopped
Balsamic vinegar – 1 tablespoon
Red onion – 1 cup, finely chopped
Gaeta olives – 20, pitted and cut in half
Dried oregano – 1 tablespoon
Tomatoes, large – 6, chopped into good-sized pieces; tomatoes need to be very fresh
Basil – 36 large leaves, torn into pieces just before serving
Red bell peppers – 4, roasted and sliced
Sugar – 1 tablespoon
Salt and pepper to taste
 
Serves 12 as an appetizer.  I usually have thick slices from a crusty loaf as an accompaniment.
 
Directions:

1. Preheat oven to 400°F.
2. Place thick slices or balls of mozzarella into a well-oiled baking dish and cook for 5 minutes
3. In a large bowl, mix well all of the other ingredients.
4. Place the just-baked mozzarella onto small plates and spoon the mixture over it and then pour on some additional liquid from the bowl.  Serve at once.

Part of a luncheon at Tony's a few years ago.

​Working from home was a little stressful at first with the extent and disruption of the pandemic being brand new.  Looking forward to a cocktail at the end of the workday, which might have stretched a little longer toiling from home, helped both make the afternoons go more quickly and provide some kind of demarcation between the work life and that of home.  Maybe, it was a the alcohol that helped, too.
 
Prompted by my desire to find a recipe for margaritas that I enjoyed and could do a passable job with at the house, aided by Costco’s price for a 5-pound bag of limes for just $4.39, I’ve had a lot of limes to work with.  I was steered toward cocktails that might use lime in addition to those margarita trials.  Gin and tonics, of course, but I had to expand my repertoire.
 
Other than for the margaritas, the mantra was easy and refreshing for our warm climate.  Ice.  Like most Americans I demand it with spirits most of the time.  I didn’t mind squeezing a lime or two, but nothing much more than that other than stirring and sometimes shaking.  And no garnishes.  Other than for the margaritas, I generally wanted lower alcohol, too.  I had grown to appreciate the Italian approach to the apertivo, the pre-dinner cocktails that not only provide some alcoholic pleasure, though not a lot, and also help open the appetite often with their hints of bitterness. For that, vermouth and soda didn’t work out that well for me.  I didn’t really like any of the versions that I made, with Cocchi Americano and another semi-sweet vermouth, Dolin Blanc.  Dolin Dry, which I employ for my martinis, didn’t do the trick either, but at least one Italian product did work.

​​A big take-away from the nearly daily mixing research was that Fever Tree is near necessity for my palate, both its tonic waters and its club soda.  Another is that lime really does help a great many cocktails.  Using limes and lemons – usually half of each at a time – generally makes the drinks more vibrant, refreshing and tastier, adding some welcome balance to the spirit, in part.  Below is a quintet of easy mixers that I’ve quite liked in recent months.
 
(Irish) Whiskey and Soda
 
Tullamore Dew, a smooth and easily enjoyable Irish whiskey, with more balance and flavor than the most popular Irish renditions, was reintroduced to me by the fine folks at The Mucky Duck, where it is used in their excellent version of the Irish Coffee.
 
Two ounces of Tullamore Dew mixed with five ounces of Fever Tree club soda over plenty of ice with two lemon quarters squeezed in, stirred a few times.  Fever Tree’s tonic water very conveniently comes in 8-packs for just about 5-ounce cans that makes for a single drink.  I’ve only seen those at Spec’s, though.  I prefer lemon to lime for this and the similar Scotch and soda, but lime works quite well, too.
 
Scotch and Soda
 
Scotch and Soda /  Mud in your eye /  Baby, do I feel high, oh me oh my / Do I feel high.  The opening words and melody of “Scotch and Soda” from the Kingston Trio recorded in the early 1960s had been a memory of my youth from an LP of my mom’s, many years before my first taste of scotch.  Very oddly and coincidentally, the song was discovered by one of the members in the home of the parents of Tom Seaver, Tom Terrific.   
 
This is a very good way to use an affordably priced blended Scotch.  Save the more distinctive single malts for sipping solo.  Two ounces of good blended Scotch – Famous Grouse is what I am using now – mixed with five ounces of Fever Tree club soda over plenty of ice with the juice of half of a lemon, stirred a few times, just like above.
 
Campari and Soda
 
It took me quite a while to appreciate the assertively bitter Campari, maybe Italy’s most iconic liqueur.  In addition to an occasional well-made Negroni, I’ve grown to like Campari and soda, usually as a pre-dinner refresher and a liter bottle of the bold red concoction has been getting replaced at a greater clip in recent months.  I mix at least two parts Fever Tree club soda to one of Campari along with the juice of half a lime over ice is often an enjoyable and relatively low alcohol starter..
 
Gin and Tonic
 
I’ve long liked gin and tonics, mostly as a warm weather cocktail, much of the year here.  I grew a greater appreciation of these with the wonderful, inventive Spanish-style gin and tonics done up at BCN.  I haven’t tried to replicate the somewhat elaborate versions there, as I’m sure I’ll fall woefully short of its skilled bartenders, but I’ve come to appreciate the quality of Fever Tree tonic waters.  That had been affirmed at Public Services through a few, or many, gin and tonics there.  It is the tonic portion of the gin and tonic that is the most important part of the equation as it’s the largest part, so high-quality tonic water is key.  It makes a big difference.  For me, it’s Fever Tree.  Its tonic waters, in all its forms, I much prefer to the similarly priced ones from Q Tonic.
 
Concerning the fun part, the gin, though long my go-to for martinis, I’ve determined that London Dry gin, with its familiar taste featuring prominence of juniper flavors, is also my favorite for gin and tonics.  The ones I like the best are the ones among the most widely found and modestly priced: Bombay, Tanqueray, Tanqueray No. 10, and Plymouth’s.  Ford’s has been well employed at bars and restaurants.

​For me, an ideal has been either Citrus and Mediterranean Fever Tree tonic waters mixed at 2-to-1 or 2 ½-to-1 ratio to a good London Dry gin over ice with the juice of half a lime and stirred gently a few times.
 
Ranch Water
 
This drink, a popular way to take the edge of the heat in far west Texas, came to my attention in recent years, likely from Texas Monthly.  I had my first one at Eight Row Flint and was nonplussed.  As it got warmer here in the spring, and with all the limes I had courtesy of Costco packaging ethos, I thought I could actually do better at home.  I did, with some guidance.
 
Adapted from a recipe in Texas Monthly, I have been using two ounces of a nicely priced but well-done blanco tequila – mostly El Jimador and its pricier sibling Espolon – two ounces of lime Juice, which usually means two limes, poured into a pint or shaker glass with a salted rim and filled about two-thirds the way with ice.  Topo Chico is then poured over the rest and stirred a few times.  I’ve that the salt helps to balance the flavors of the tequila and lime, and its acidity.  There is a reason that margaritas are served with salted rims.  For a spicy kick, my brother-in-law suggested using jalapeño slices.  I prefer serranos.  It works well, two thin horizontal slices should provide sufficient kick for most.  Three was too many for my tastes.
 
These are the easy ones.  Look for information about the more involved, and alcoholic, ones in the near future.

At a recent virtual wine dinner at Roma in Houston, befitting the wines from a top Barbera producer in Piedmont, the first course, the antipasto, was veal tonnato.  It was easily my favorite of the three courses that night.  Veal tonnato is a classic cold veal dish in a tuna sauce usually served as a starter, which I have long really enjoyed.  For those unfamiliar with the preparation, veal and tuna might seem an odd combination, but it is actually a wonderful pairing.  If you enjoy canned tuna, in a mild form, and mayonnaise, you will like veal tonnato.  Served chilled or almost room temperature, it works well during summertime.

With the often very warm weather throughout much of the year, veal tonnato would be a welcome sight nearly year round at many Italian restaurants in Houston, but it is rarely found.  There isn’t much veal on Houston Italian restaurant menus, for one.  And, veal in tuna sauce might seem a little obscure to many.  Not only here; veal tonnato has not really found too often on Italian menus around the country.  Looking at around 650 Italian restaurant menus over the years, veal tonnato showed up on just 4% of them.  The dish is a specialty of eastern Piedmont and that’s also found in the adjacent region south of Milan.  The cuisine of that area, lauded in Italy, hasn’t been found at too many restaurants here.  It’s shame that it’s tough to find when heading out.  You might need to make it yourself:
 
Veal:
 
Veal round or shoulder – 1 ¾ pound
Carrot
Onion
Celery stalk
White wine vinegar – 1 tablespoon
Olive Oil – 1 tablespoon
Salt – 1 teaspoon
 
Sauce:
 
Canned tuna, drained – 7 ounces
Anchovy filets, drained – 3
Capers, drained and rinsed – 2 tablespoons plus 1 tablespoon for garnishing
Egg yolks, hard-boiled – 2
Olive oil – 3 tablespoons
Lemon – 1
 
Cook the veal:

1. Tie the veal with string.  
2. Add the veal, carrot, onion, celery stalk, vinegar and olive oil to the pan.
3. Add enough water to a deep pan to cover the veal, add the salt and bring to a boil.
4. Cover the pan and simmer over a low heat until the veal is tender, about two hours.
5. Turn off the heat and allow the veal to cool in the stock.

 
Make the sauce:

1. Put the tuna, anchovy, capers and hard-boiled egg yolks into a food processer and process for about 30 seconds.
2. Add in the olive oil, the juice of the lemon and about 3 tablespoons of the stock from cooking the veal and then turn on the food processors for about 15 seconds more.  The sauce should have the consistency of freshly made mayonnaise.
3. Untie the veal and slice fairly thinly.  Spoon the sauce over the veal.  Garnish with the remaining capers.  Refrigerate for at least a few hours before serving.

 
Adapted from The Silver Spoon cookbook.
 

A more artistic version of veal tonnato at a restaurant at the Enoclub restaurant in Alba, Piedmont a couple of years ago. Maybe a little bit blurry because of all the wine.

​The late Marcella Hazan helped to popularize a more authentic Italian cuisine in this country beginning in the 1970s, especially for dishes from her native region of Emilia-Romagna.  Among the very greatest of those dishes is the ragù bolognese, the slowly cooked meat sauce named after the city of Bologna meant to be served with freshly made pasta.  Hazan has an excellent version in her Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking, related in her usual authoritative, or didactic, fashion.  Below is a slightly modified version that I’ve used to great effect over the years, spicing it along the way.  I’m a longtime Houstonian, after all.
 
Though I had a tasty ragù at the new Rosie Cannonball, I believe that this tastes better.  That is takes at least five hours to create is part of the reason.  It’s better with better beef, and make sure that it is at no more than 80% lean.  Some good chuck, hormone-free from H-E-B worked very well the other day.
 
Olive oil – 1 tablespoon
Butter – 3 tablespoons
Onion – 1, chopped
Celery stalk – 1, chopped
Carrot – 1, diced
Ground beef, 80% lean – 1 pound
Whole milk – 1 ¼ cup
White wine – 1 ¼ cup
Peeled tomatoes – 1 15 ½-ounce can
Nutmeg, ground – a pinch
Serrano peppers – 3, seeded and diced
Salt – a pinch
Black pepper
Parmigiano-Reggiano – grated
 

1. Melt the butter in a cast iron pan or a heavy-bottomed pot with the olive oil and cook the onions until translucent.
2. Add the carrot and celery and cook for at least 2 minutes stirring to coat the vegetables well with the butter and oil.
3. Add the ground beef along with a pinch of salt and a few grindings of black pepper.  Break up the beef and cook until the beef is brown.
4. Add the milk.  While stirring frequently let simmer gently until the milk is evaporated completely.  This will take at least a half an hour.  Cooking the meat in the milk before adding the wine and tomatoes reduces the impact of the acidity of the wine and tomatoes.
5. Add the pinch of ground nutmeg.
6. Add the white wine and simmer until entirely evaporated, which will take another half hour or so.
7. Add the tomatoes and stir in well.  Cook uncovered with “the laziest of simmers” for at least 3 hours.  If the sauce begins to dry out, which is likely, add some water.  Before serving, there should be no water left in the sauce.

Serve with just cooked pasta and some grated Parmigiano-Reggiano.

Before a trip to Pavia recently, all I had really heard about it was zuppa alla pavese, a historic soup named after this city that’s not far south of Milan, something that I had come across in Ada Boni’s classic “Italian Regional Cooking,” which was published in English fifty years ago.  The legend associated with its creation is related in that tome:
 
“On February 21, 1525, Francis I, King of France, was losing the battle of Pavia. Pursued by the Spaniards and about to surrender, he stopped at a cottage near the city and asked for a meal. As it happened, a classical vegetable minestrone was being prepared in the kitchen, and the cook, with a proper sense of occasion, decided to enrich it. She added a few slices of stale bread, toasted and buttered, broke a couple of eggs over the, threw in a few handfuls of Parmesan cheese, and poured the boiling vegetable broth over the top.  Francis ate this strange new dish with great curiosity, and as the Spaniards closed in, he thanked the peasants for their hospitality, declaring, “What you have given me was a King’s soup.!” And that, according to authorities on Lombard cooking, was the origin of Pavia soup, or zuppa alla pavese.”
 
As my trip was sponsored by Pavia’s chamber of commerce and mostly of a gastronomic nature, I assumed that zuppa alla pavese – it’s named after the town and seemingly it’s most famous dish, after all – would be served at least one of the meals, and likely more.  It wasn’t.  Not only that, but the dish does not seem to exist on any of the town’s menus – at least I didn’t find and I was looking – and might not even be cooked much at all in the area.  Our guide and translator, both from the area, had never had the dish.  One reason that it might not be found on too many menus is that it’s relatively straightforward and unfussy dish, and one with centuries-old roots; how many menus sport items that were created in the 1500s, after all? 
 
The dearth of the dish, and the resonance of its name, had encouraged the self-same chamber of commerce to encourage local eateries to update the dish in a variety of creative ways in a program called, “zuppa alla pavese 2.0” that might not have gotten too much traction.  I did encounter that, well, a sign announcing it at one restaurant.  I couldn’t get a table at the only place where I saw.  The restaurants are especially tiny in Pavia, it seems, befitting a pedestrian-centric municipality not needing to seat an influx of tourists.  No matter.  A rendition of zuppa alla pavese is easy to recreate at home.  Good bread and good stock are quite helpful.  And, if you can get some of those gorgeously orange-yolked eggs that are used in Italy, even btter.
 
Zuppa alla pavese – adapted from “The Silver Spoon”
 
Serves 4 as a first course
 
Thick slices of hearty bread with the crusts removed – 4
Butter – 2 tablespoons
Meat broth, homemade if possible, of course – 3 cups
Eggs – 4
Parmigiano-Reggiano – 4 tablespoons
 

1. Preheat oven to 400 F
2. Bring the broth to a boil.
3. Melt the butter in a pan and fry the bread on both sides.
4. Put the bread in four ovenproof bowls.
5. Break on egg on top of each slice of bread and pour over the hot broth.
6. Add the Parmigiano-Reggiano to each bowl.
7. Put into the oven for a few minutes or until the cheese melts.

​One of the many famous dishes originating in New Orleans is Barbecue Shrimp; in my opinion, also one of the very tastiest ever created in an Italian-themed restaurant in this country.  Barbecue Shrimp were first cooked at Pascal’s Manale, a restaurant in business since 1913.  Its heritage is Italian – Manale, after all – and it still advertises itself as “Italian-Creole.”  But, like most Italian-named eateries in the New Orleans area, the Creole is far more prevalent than the Italian.
 
I had it this past weekend at Mr. B’s Bistro, the long-standing Brennan family restaurant in the French Quarter that I had not visited in years.  Though service was something less than prompt and professional, surprising at a Brennan restaurant, the barbecue shrimp were terrific, and terrifically messy.  Thankfully, plastic bibs are provided, an unsightly necessity. 
 
A few things about this garlickly and buttery preparation are unusual when remembering that it was devised at an Italian restaurant.  Though delicious, it hardly registers as Italian or even Italian-American, to be honest.  It is Creole.  “Barbecue” is a complete misnomer.  The shrimp are not barbecued, or even grilled.  The shrimp are actually baked.  Also, it takes its inspiration from Chicago.  It was created at the restaurant in the 1950s after a customer raved about recently having the well-known Shrimps de Jonghe in Chicago.  Yes, Chicago once had a renowned shrimp dish.
 
As flavorful as the dish is, it is also surprisingly easy, and great for parties, since most of the work is done beforehand.  It can be a little, or a lot, messy, which can make it fun for informal get-togethers.  The recipe below is from The Guide to Ridiculously Easy Entertaining.   It comes from my co-author, Michael Wells, who is originally from New Orleans. 
 
New Orleans-Style Barbecue Shrimp
 
Serves – 8 to 10
 
Ingredients: 
Large shrimp (uncooked & heads-on) – 4 to 6 pounds
Butter – 3 sticks (24 tablespoons)
Olive Oil – ½ cup (4 ounces)
Garlic – 4 cloves, finely chopped
Bay Leaves – 2, crumbled
Lemon Juice – 4 tablespoons; use juice from freshly squeezed lemons
Worcestershire sauce – 2 tablespoons
Flat-Leaf Parley – 1 tablespoon, finely chopped
Oregano, dried – 2 teaspoons
Paprika – 2 teaspoons
Cayenne Pepper – 2 teaspoons
Louisiana-style Hot Sauce – 1 teaspoon
Black Pepper, freshly ground – 2 teaspoons
Chili Sauce – ½ cup (4 ounces)
Lemons – 2, thinly sliced
 
Cooking Steps: 

1. Melt the butter in a large saucepan over medium-low heat.  When butter is melted stir in all of the contents, except for the shrimp.  Simmer for 10 minutes.
2. Place the shrimp in a large baking dish and then pour the butter mixture over it.  Cover it with plastic wrap and then store in the refrigerator for at least 2 hours.  The longer the better.
3. Preheat the oven to 300°F (149°C).
4. When nearly ready for your guests, put in the oven at 300°F (149°C) and cook for 20 to 30 minutes.

 
To Serve: 
Serve with steamed rice and crusty French or Italian bread.  For more casual settings, the bread alone will suffice.


A side of the delicious barbecue shrimp at Mr. B's Bistro in New Orleans

I was fortunate in years past to travel to Italy with the Gruppo Ristoranti Italiani (now Gruppo Italiano) in their gastronomic treks highlighting high quality Italian food and wine producers.  One of those trips, to the region of Molise, was to La Molisana, a commercial pasta maker on the outskirts of the regional capital of Campobasso.  The visit included a tour of the modern factory and subsequent five-course feast in their demonstration kitchen.
 
Though the dinner was terrific – pasta figured prominently in every dish and well-made and well-paired wine was plentiful – a highlight for me were the instructions on how the proper way to prepare dried pasta, directly from the pasta maker.  But, everyone knows how to boil pasta, don’t they?  Not really.  And, the instructions from one of the co-owners drew considered interest from those within earshot in what was an extremely food-savvy group.
 
The instructions:
 

1. Bring copious amount of water to a boil.
2. Add a generous amount of salt.
3. Add the pasta.
4. Close the lid until it returns to a boil.
5. Remove lid.
6. Cook pasta until done.
7. Drain the pasta.

 
It is quite simple, though closing the lid after adding the pasta was seemingly new to most.  It was to me.  As to the amount of water for the pasta or the amount of salt, a generous amount of each was understood. 
 
Plied by our hosts that night with an enormous box containing nearly ten pounds of pasta – and subsequently encountering stares in the airports in Rome, Lisbon and Newark afterwards – I used those instructions when cooking it, and with the pasta since then.  I could really tell the difference with the La Molisana, though.  The quality of La Molisana is superior to what I typically use – and even better than DeCecco, which is excellent – and the improvement certainly lies in that rather than in any optimal cooking process.  La Molisana is available at H-E-B, at least online.
 
But, it is nice to know the optimal way to do it.

Last night I booked my flights into Rome for a trip this summer.  I won't be in the Eternal City longer than for a single lunch this time, and it won't include Fettuccine Alfredo, which is the best known dish that originated in Rome, at least among Americans.  That rich and creamy pasta dish exists today in the restaurants of Rome, but barely.

Fettuccine Alfredo is the most famous of the Roman pasta dishes, at least in terms of its preponderance on restaurant menus, mediocre buffets, and in frozen and sauce form available on supermarket aisles in this country.  It is essentially unknown in Rome and seemingly only served in two restaurants in the Eternal City, both heirs to the establishment where the dish was created.
 
Fettuccine Alfredo is one of those rare widely influential dishes that owes its origin to a single restaurant, Trattoria Alfredo at 104 Via della Scrofa in the historic center of Rome.  It was created in 1920 according to the original restaurant as a very rich version of a traditional pasta al burro – fresh pasta with butter – amping up both the butter and the Parmigiano to create a luxuriant, very rich dish, especially as a primo piatto, the pasta course.  When honeymooning Hollywood stars Mary Pickford and Douglas Fairbanks fell in love with the dish and presented owner Alfredo with a golden fork and spoon in honor of it, the attendant publicity made famous what become known as Fettuccine Alfredo.
 
In the 1940s, Alfredo sold the original restaurant, which is now known as Alfredo alla Scrofa.  In 1950 he decided to get back into business and opened a trattoria called Il Vero Alfredo.  Both claim the heritage of the original, and seem to be the only places in Rome that serve the dish.  At least those are the only two places that I was aware of during my recent few days in Rome.  We stumbled across Alfredo alla Scrofa and its dear 20-euro version of the dish, which did not seem to affect business at all, as the smart-looking establishment looked fully booked. 
 
Maybe the dish is still served elsewhere in Rome, but I did not encounter it on any other menus.  When I have asked Romans over the years about Fettuccine Alfredo – even in my limited Italian – nearly all have expressed a blank look, confessing never to have heard of the dish or anything like it.  But, it appears to have once been popular in the city’s trattorias.  A New York Times article from 1981 claimed at least 50 restaurants served a version of it under the name fettuccine alla romana. 
 
Maybe it is the acknowledgement of excessively caloric and cholesterol-laden nature of the dish that has chased it off the Roman menus – visitors might not be ordering a second course after consuming a portion – but it has certainly found a permanent place in Italian-American restaurants and in (and on) the hearts of diners in the United States.  We like hearty here.
 
This is the (minimal) recipe for the dish from the website of Alfredo alla Scrofa, “the original recipe of ‘Fettuccine Alfredo’”:
 
Ingredients:
Egg pasta
Butter
Parmesan cheese
 
Preparation:

• Boil the water, salt moderately and add pasta.
• Once pasta is cooked (time of cooking depends from the type of pasta) remove it from the water and lie it on an oval plate that was warmed in advance and where butter was placed.
• Cover pasta with a lot of parmesan cheese and melt everything gently.
• When everything will be well melted and you will see a cream sauce coming out, you can serve and taste it.

 
Expertly and freshly made fettuccine featuring plentiful eggs, top-quality butter used nearly in excess and good Parmigiano-Reggiano help quite a bit, plus likely a bit of pasta water at the end.
 
Alfredo alla Scrofa
Via della Scrofa, 104, +39 06 6880 6163
alfredoscrofa.com
 
Il Vero Alfredo
Piazza Augusto Imperatore, 30, +39 06 6878 734
alfredo-roma.it
​

Ristorante Alfredo alla Scrofa a few years ago

I am still thinking of the fantastic shrimp I had in Galveston last month, picked up a grocery store on the west end.  The shrimp were remarkably fresh and flavorful, and the pasta dish they starred was likely helped by the cooking talents of my sister-in-law who happens to have a couple diplomas from Cordon Bleu in Paris.  It further reminded me that I needed to cook shrimp more often, including this New Orleans born dish.

One of the many famous dishes originating in New Orleans is Barbecue Shrimp; in my opinion, also one of the very tastiest ever created in an Italian-themed restaurant in this country.  Barbecue Shrimp were first cooked at Pascal’s Manale, a restaurant in business since 1913.  Its heritage is Italian – Manale, after all – and it still advertises itself as “Italian-Creole.”  But, like most Italian-named eateries in the New Orleans area, the Creole is far more prevalent than the Italian.
 
A few things about this garlickly and buttery preparation are unusual.  Though delicious, it hardly registers as Italian or even Italian-American, to be honest.  “Barbecue” is a complete misnomer.  The shrimp are not barbecued, or even grilled.  The shrimp are actually baked.  Lastly, it takes its inspiration from Chicago.  It was created at the restaurant in the 1950s after a customer raved about recently having the well-known Shrimps de Jonghe in Chicago.  Yes, Chicago once had a renowned shrimp dish.
 
As flavorful as the dish is, it is also surprisingly easy, and great for parties, since most of the work is done beforehand.  It can be a little messy, which can make it fun for informal get-togethers.  The recipe below is from The Guide to Ridiculously Easy Entertaining.   It comes from my co-author, Michael Wells, who is originally from New Orleans. 
 
New Orleans-Style Barbecue Shrimp
 
Serves – 8 to 10
 
Ingredients: 
Large shrimp (uncooked & heads-on) – 4 to 6 pounds
Butter – 3 sticks (24 tablespoons)
Olive Oil – ½ cup (4 ounces)
Garlic – 4 cloves, finely chopped
Bay Leaves – 2, crumbled
Lemon Juice – 4 tablespoons; use juice from freshly squeezed lemons
Worcestershire sauce – 2 tablespoons
Flat-Leaf Parley – 1 tablespoon, finely chopped
Oregano, dried – 2 teaspoons
Paprika – 2 teaspoons
Cayenne Pepper – 2 teaspoons
Louisiana-style Hot Sauce – 1 teaspoon
Black Pepper, freshly ground – 2 teaspoons
Chili Sauce – ½ cup (4 ounces)
Lemons – 2, thinly sliced
 
Cooking Steps: 

1. Melt the butter in a large saucepan over medium-low heat.  When butter is melted stir in all of the contents, except for the shrimp.  Simmer for 10 minutes.
2. Place the shrimp in a large baking dish and then pour the butter mixture over it.  Cover it with plastic wrap and then store in the refrigerator for at least 2 hours.  The longer the better.
3. Preheat the oven to 300°F (149°C).
4. When nearly ready for your guests, put in the oven at 300°F (149°C) and cook for 20 to 30 minutes.

 
To Serve: 
Serve with steamed rice and crusty French or Italian bread.  For more casual settings, the bread alone will suffice.


Below is some beautiful white shrimp at Boyd's on the Texas City dike, sold for just a pittance and worth the drive.

A buddy of mine just traveled to Chicago, and heartily enjoyed the hearty fare including rib-sticking Polish goodness on what used to be near the Polish Downtown on Milwaukee Avenue.  It made me think of Chicago dishes that I might have scribed about in the past.  I finally remembered Chicken Vesuvio, a very good dish that has not really traveled far from its city of origin, which is a shame.

A big, hearty baked chicken dish, it might have originated at the Vesuvio restaurant in Chicago in the 1920s, named after the volcano near Naples (though the restaurant was owned by a native of Turin). It is probably most appropriately enjoyed in a cooler time of the year, but it will still be a hit when prepared properly.  The best version of it that I have had over the years was at the popular, tourist-laden Harry Caray’s downtown.
 
Here is their recipe, from the Harry Caray’s Restaurant Cookbook:
 
Chicken Vesuvio
 
This is adapted from Harry Caray’s in Chicago where it is one the signature dishes, and quite tasty, too.   The original location in downtown Chicago is a touristy spot serving hearty Italian-American dishes – and expense-account steaks – that were a favorite of namesake, legendary baseball broadcaster Harry Caray (born Carabina), an exuberant patron of notable Italian-American restaurants across the country.
 
Serves 4
 
Peas, frozen – 1 cup
Olive oil – ¼ cup
Potatoes, russet – 4, peeled, cut in quarters, lengthwise
Garlic – 12 cloves, 2 minced
Chicken – 1, cut into 8 pieces
White wine – 1 ½ cups
Parsley, flat-leaf – ⅓ cup, chopped
Oregano, dried – 1 tablespoon
Salt – 1 teaspoon
Black pepper – 1 teaspoon
Chicken stock – 1 ½ cups
 

1. Boil water in a small saucepan. Add peas and cook 1 minute. Drain. Rinse with cold water.
2. Heat the olive oil in a large oven-proof skillet over medium heat and add the potatoes and the 10 whole garlic cloves. Cook, stirring occasionally, until potatoes are golden brown on all sides, about 12 minutes. Remove the garlic and discard. Remove potatoes on top of paper towels.
3. Heat oven to 375° F.
4. Add chicken pieces to the skillet, in batches, if necessary. Cook, turning once, until lightly brown, about 5 minutes per side. Stir in the wine, stirring to scrape up browned bits. Cook until reduced by half, about 10 minutes.
5. Return potatoes to the skillet. Season with the oregano, parsley, the 2 cloves of minced garlic, salt and pepper. Add the chicken stock.
6. Put in the oven, and bake until the chicken is done, about 45 minutes.
7. Transfer the chicken to a serving platter.  Arrange the potatoes around the chicken, and pour the sauce from the pan over the dish.