Sal DeTraglia

ENTER “THE FINO COCKTAIL.”

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When my beloved cat Fino went to live with “that nice young couple on a farm” last month, I resolved to create a cocktail in his honor.

Like its legendary namesake, the “Fino Cocktail” had to be cool, sweet, strong and, above all…a striking blue. Prrrrrr…

Last night, with the help of a sharp palate and a Telfon liver, the Fino Cocktail was perfected. And I have to say, it’s a damn good cocktail. Here’s the recipe:

THE FINO COCKTAIL

2 oz. light rum

1/2 oz. Simple Syrup

1/2 oz. Blue Curacao

1 dash Fee Brothers Orange Bitters

Silver Dollar-sized Lime peel

Step 1: Add rum, Simple Syrup, Blue Curacao and Bitters to a shaker.

Step 2: Add abundant ice to shaker, stir until ice cold and strain into a chilled cocktail glass.

Step 3: Twist lime peel over drink to float the oils, and discard.

Step 4: Drink, purr and make love. That’s what Fino would do.

Note: To make Simple Syrup, add 1 c. sugar to 1 c. boiling water. Off heat, stir until sugar is completely dissolved, cool and refrigerate.

ANOTHER POST FOR POSTERITY: NONNIE’S FUCAZZO.

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And now for another installment of our continuing series.

This classic Nonnie recipe is for Fucazzo (pronounced, “foo-GOTS”)—an Italian onion and anchovy pie that, oddly enough, was one of my childhood favorites.

Nonnie made her Fucazzo in the form of a calzone—spreading the ingredients over a layer of pizza dough, covering it with a top layer of dough and brushing it with egg yolk before baking.

My riff on this dish treats it as a pizza; using the always-fabulous Boboli pizza crusts. I also modified Nonnie’s original by adding chile peppers, fresh herbs, goat cheese and a drizzle of extra-virgen olive oil.

However you choose to spin it, the soul of Fucazzo is the jiu-jitsu between the sweetness of onions and tomato sauce vs. the brininess of anchovies and oil-cured black olives.

Just don’t eat a slice before a first date.

NONNIE’S FUCAZZO
1 Boboli Pizza Crust
2 Large Onions
5 oz. Tomato Sauce (just eyeball it)
Oil-cured Black Olives (remove pits)
Anchovies
Fresh Parsely
Fresh Basil
Chopped Green Chiles (Jalapeno or Serrano)
Goat Cheese (optional)
Salt & Pepper
Extra Virgen Olive Oil
Step 1:  Saute onion in some olive oil until soft and translucent.
Step 2:  Add salt, pepper and tomato sauce to onions.  Let simmer a few minutes.
Step 3:  Brush Boboli with olive oil.
Step 4:  Spread onion mixture onto Boboli, leaving a 1 inch border.
Step 5:  Arrange anchovies, chiles, olives and dollops of goat cheese atop of onions.
Step 6: Place directly on bottom rack of 450F oven and bake for 12 minutes.
Step 7:  Remove from oven.  Drizzle with extra virgen olive oil and top with fresh herbs.

PAELLA

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I never made Paella during the eight years that I lived in Spain .

Why would I? For a mere 15-20 Euros, I could go to any one of a thousand nearby bars and restaurants and just buy one. For the same reason, I never learned to make deep dish pizza during the years I lived in Chicago or a pick-up truck back-window gun rack during the years I lived in Pennsylvania .

But when I left Spain to live in another country, I realized that this chink in my cooking armor needed to be patched. So I arrived early to a lunch being hosted by a Spanish friend and took careful notes.

PAELLA

– Stock (fish or chicken)
– Meats and/or fish (prawns/calamari, ribs, chicken, rabbit, pork chops, chorizo, etc.)
– Vegetables (onions, tomatoes, garlic, green beans, butterbeans, etc.)
– Saffron, garlic, salt
– Approx. 1 c. rice per person

Step 1: Saute ribs, chicken, rabbit, pork chops, chorizo, etc.

Step 2: Saute and salt onions, tomatoes, garlic, green beans, butterbeans, etc.

Step 3: Add water till it reaches half way up the meat. Turn flame to high and cook until water nearly disappears (approx. 30 minutes).

Step 4: Add rice and sauté.

Step 5: Add 2 c. stock per each 1 c. of rice. If using bomba rice, then 2.5 c. stock per each 1 c. of rice. Stock should cover the rice.

Step 6: Add saffron or tumeric (dissolved in glass of water or stock).

Step 7: Bring to boil, lower flame to medium and leave untouched until syrupy and dry-ish (approx. 25 minutes).

Step 8: Add prawns, clams/mussels and calamari during the last 10 minutes.

THE JERK.

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When I was completing my MBA at the University of Illinois more than a decade ago, I had a classmate named Bigby.

Bigby was from Jamaica . He was in his late 40’s to early 50’s. He had a house with sound/light system, dance floor and disco ball in the basement. And he LOVED to throw parties.

At one of Bigby’s parties, his wife (also Jamaican) walked in carrying a silver platter piled high with Jerk Pork.

Now…I had eaten Jerk Pork many times beforehand—including at a roadside stand in Ocho Rios , Jamaica —and liked it. But Bigby’s Jerk Pork was on a whole ‘nuther level. It was thick, dark and heavy with spice. It had a pungency that would send your nostrils into spasm. And it was hot enough to melt your contact lenses.

In short, it was a Jerk Pork that I’d remember on my death bed.

And like a complete moron, I FORGOT TO ASK FOR THE FRIGGIN’ RECIPE!!!

This unforgivable, life-ruining, lapse of reason has haunted me ever since. In short, it was a screw-up that I’d remember on my death bed.

But alas…teeter-totter of life has a miraculous way of leveling itself. “Spoon”—the woman at Acme Low Carb Tongue Depressors, Inc. whose office is next door to mine—recently emailed me a recipe for Jerk Pork that she claimed was barn-burner.

Last weekend, Agatha and I made the recipe. I still can’t believe it. It’s as good as Bigby’s.

Sing with me, bruhdahs!

Won’t you help to sing
These songs of freedom
Cause all I ever have
Redemption songs
Redemption songs.

JERK [FILL IN THE BLANK]

The Marinade:

4 Habanero or Scotch Bonnet chiles—do NOT remove seeds or ribs
4 cloves garlic
4 scallions
1-2 inch ginger
1 sprig thyme
¼ c. packed brown sugar
4 t. ground allspice
4 t. chile powder
2 t. cinnamon
2 t. nutmeg
¾ c. vegetable oil
¼ c. lime juice (fresh)
2/3 c. soy sauce
Black pepper

Step 1: Puree the above ingredients in a blender until smooth.
Step 2: Reserve ¼ c. of marinade for the Dipping Sauce (see below)

The Meat:

If grilling: Pork tenderloin; Pork chops; Chicken parts; and/or Skirt steak.
If smoking: Pork Boston Butt; Pork spare ribs; Pork baby back ribs; Beef brisket; Chicken (whole, split vertically).
Step 1: If you haven’t already, reserve ¼ c. of the marinade for Dipping Sauce.
Step 2: Marinade meat for 24 hours in the fridge.
Step 3: Grill or smoke the marinated meat.

The Dipping Sauce:

¼ c. of reserved Jerk Marinade
1 c. chicken stock or broth
Step 1: Whisk together ingredients in a sauce pan.
Step 2: Reduce on stovetop until thickened.

Update (October 30, 2016) — Slow Cooked Jerk Goat Stew:

The Chicago Cubs are in the World Series, and not doing very well.  So, in a civic-minded effort to break the Curse of the Billy Goat, we invited some Cubs fans/friends over for a lunch of Jerk Goat.  The butcher at the halal meat market (where I bought the goat) recommended braising the meat in a sauce, rather than grilling or roasting.  So I adapted the recipe above as follows:

Step 1:  Buy two goat legs (approximately 7 lbs total), each cut into three large hunks.

Step 2:  Triple the Jerk Marinade recipe above.

Step 3:  Marinade the goat for 24 hours as described above, and reserve the rest of the Jerk Marinade (which will be a lot) in the fridge.

Step 4:  Place goat hunks in large slow cooker.

Step 5:  Dilute the reserved Jerk Marinade with chicken broth and beer.  You will want the proportions to be 2 parts Jerk Marinade, 1 part chicken broth, and 1 part beer.

Step 6:  Pour the Marinade/broth/beer mixture into slow cooker until it covers the goat.  I also added chopped kale and peas, because my wife demands vegetables with her meal.

Step 7:  Set slow cooker to “low,” and cook for 12 hours.

Step 8:  Remove goat hunks from slow cooker, pull meat from the bones, and return meat to the slow cooker.

We served the Jerk Goat with basmati rice and a creamy cole slaw (to reset your tongue when the habanero burn encroaches).

AND NOW FOR ANOTHER INSTALLMENT OF…”SILLY POEMS FOR IN-HOUSE ATTORNEYS.”

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My employer—Acme Low-Carb Tongue Depressors, Inc.—takes Halloween seriously.

Each year, it throws a spirited Halloween party for employees. Festivities include a live band, food, drink a pumpkin-carving contest, costume contest and—the intended piece-de-resistance—a departmental skit contest.

I say “intended” because, in fact, only one department ever performs a skit—Human Resources.

This year, in an effort to stoke a bit of much-needed competition, one of the H/R Managers asked me to re-write the lyrics to The Supreme’s song, “Stop, In the Name of Love”—hoping that it would inspire a group frayed and frazzled lawyers to perform it at the contest.

Well…I knew that the odds of that happening were less than nil. But I wrote the lyrics, anyway—just to prove to myself that there remains some kernel of creativity in my increasingly weary brain.

The lyrics are set forth below. I suppose that you need to be an in-house corporate lawyer to fully appreciate it. But, hey…I guess that anyone can appreciate a good, silly rhyme. Plus…I wrote it, so I might as well share it.

 

STOP, IN THE NAME OF LAW.

Baby, baby, you call this crap a contract?
Seems it was written by a lemur that had smoked crack.
Participles dangle like a pair of fuzzy dice.
Your stilted prose would cause gastritis in both Strunk and White.

But this time before I start to red-line.
I’ll push your teeth in if you don’t push out the deadline.
(Think it over) I think you’d better take a seat and grab a tissue.
(Think it over) We need your input, this a commercial issue.

Stop, in the name of law.
Your logic has a flaw.
Stop, in the name of law.
Take my advice…withdraw.

Think it over.
Think it over.

Baby, baby, a lawyer’s task is bitter-sweet.
We fight our customers when they hold fire to our feet.
Business folks complain that I’m the deal-blocker man.
Then they come running to me when the poopie hits the fan.

But this time before the LD’s* fall.
And Finance VPs want to know just who approved it all.
(Think it over) It wasn’t Legal, it was you who granted your OK.
(Think it over) We can prove it, here’s your e-mail from June ‘98.

Stop, in the name of law.
Your logic has a flaw.
Stop, in the name of law.
Take my advice…withdraw.

Think it over.
Think it over.

Baby, baby, I write contracts both day and night.
At times it leads me to a troubling existential fight.
Is this the highest use of my dry wit and writing skills?
Why must my mind be ruled by IPR and poison pills?

But this time before I boot my Dell.
I have some breaking news that I must tell you.
(Think it over) No more customer fights or pleads or bent-knee grovels.
(Think it over) I’m gonna make my living writing romance novels.

Stop, in the name of law.
Your logic has a flaw.
Stop, in the name of law.
Take my advice…withdraw.

Think it over.
Think it over.

[* Note: The acronym “LDs” stands for “liquidated damages” (i.e., contractual penalties).] 

LIFE IS A CORONET.

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When I was a wee lad at Thomas Jefferson Elementary School in Utica, NY during the early 1970s, my classmates and I were fed a steady diet of Coronet films.

Coronet films were produced, more or less, around the time that Howard Taft was contemplating a run for the White House. And they taught me important life lessons like…always stick with dad when using power tools. Or, don´t drink too much soda pop before bed. Or, how Billy keeps his body clean.

They also taught me that Thomas Jefferson Elementary School must’ve had a really, really paltry budget.

For years I’ve been telling people about Coronet films, hoping that someone…anyone…might leap to his feet and shout, “Coronet! OMG…you grew up with those, too?!!!” Instead, they crinkle their brows and mutter something about a revenue recognition meeting that they´re late for.

I was even starting to doubt my own memory when it hit me. YouTube! There might–just might–be a Coronet or two lurking in the bowels of YouTube.

Was there ever! I present an especially kitsch-o-licious nugget above. And no…it’s not a parody. This is the stuff that made me what I am today.

Hat-making contest, anyone?

Thanks, but I think I’ll go find that girl who was bobbing for apples on a string.

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