Above average home cook, published humorist, endurance athlete, former ex-pat, recovering attorney, doting husband, dedicated dad, non-Italian speaking Italian-American, and endearingly lousy ukulele player. It’s all true. It’s all Sal. This website (www.saldetraglia.com) is my outlet to inform and entertain, on both the personal and professional fronts.
My sweet-toothed intelligence sources report that there is an Italian bakery selling pasticciotti (aka, pusties) in, of all places, Dallas, Texas! That bakery is Palmieri Cafe, located at 307 N. Bishop Ave, Dallas, TX 75208.
This is joyous news to those of our tribe who have long-since left the northeast, yet still long for its food.
As luck would have it, my wife is traveling to Dallas on business next week and promised, under penalty of divorce, to bring back a dozen. I will have more to report shortly.
I’ve written passionately (here and here) about my family’s annual Christmas Eve seafood-only blowout that we call “Fishmas” and others call “Feast of the Seven Fishes.” It’s an Italian-American ritual that has been observed and perpetuated by my family for decades longer than I’ve been alive.
I’ve even gone so far as to document photos of, and recipes for, our typical Fishmas courses because…you know…some day I’ll be dead.
While certain Fishmas courses–such as linguini with calamari, linguini with anchovy, and most importantly…fried smelts–are locked in permanent rotation, other courses have come, went, and/or evolved throughout the years.
This year, however, we went retro on one new course. Except that it wasn’t new at all.
Baccala (bacalao in Spanish, salt cod in English) was on my grandparents’ Fishmas table throughout the 40s, 50s, and 60s. They eventually cast it aside, however, because (#RealTalk!) it’s a pain in the ass to make. It’s called “salt cod” because (unsurprisingly) it’s cod preserved in salt. And the only way to get rid of the salt is to soak it in many changes of water.
How many changes? Nine. Nine changes of water over three days.
Well, let me tell ya…those water changes were worth the effort, because the Baccala Balls that we introduced this year were balls-to-the-wall awesome. Recipe and photos below.
THE INGREDIENTS
1 lbs. Baccala (salt cod) [Note: Available on-line or at your local H-Mart Korean superstore]
Panko bread crumbs
Eggs
Flour
1/4 c Mayo
1.5 t Old Bay or Cajun seasoning
Small handful of chopped fresh parsley
4 Scallions (minced)
Salt & pepper
Vegetable oil
THE ASSEMBLY
STEP 1: Place baccala in a pan or bowl. Cover with cold water and place in fridge.
STEP 2: Change the water at least three times per day for three days. This is required to rid the baccala of the preservative salt. Nobody likes salty fish…especially Uncle Tony with the high blood pressure.
STEP 3: After day 3, pull the flesh from the skin and bones and shred finely. I use a fork (or two) to do this step. Pick out any bones remaining within the flesh, so that you don’t require a Christmas Eve trip to Urgent Care.
STEP 4: In a large bowl, combine the shredded baccala, scallions, parsley, Old Bay (or Cajun) seasoning, mayo, and 4-5 T of Panko. Add salt and pepper to taste.
STEP 5: Add 1 egg, and fold into mixture.
STEP 6: Grab a bit of the baccala mixture, and roll into a ball with your hands. #ProTip: If you gently/slightly squash the ball with the palms of your hands, it will be easier to fry both sides evenly.
STEP 7: Set up two plates with a bowl in the middle. Fill plate on the left with flour. Fill middle bowl with beaten eggs. Fill plate on right with Panko bread crumbs seasoned with salt, pepper, and Old Bay (or Cajun) seasoning to taste.
STEP 8: Fill sauté pan with a couple inches of vegetable oil. Heat to frying temperature (i.e., pretty damn hot).
STEP 9: Dredge baccala ball in flour, then egg, then seasoned Panko. Gently place in oil. Fry until golden brown on one side, flip, then fry til golden brown on other side.
STEP 10: Place fried baccala balls on cooling rack or paper towel-lined plate. Taste and decide if it needs another sprinkling of salt. Serve as is, or with a dipping sauce (I like a chipotle-spiked remolade sauce).
Merry Fishmas, Charlie Brownavecchio!
Getting ready to soak the baccala.Change that water nine times over three days.Pull the flesh from the skin/bones and shred.Mix it all up.Add an egg and mix some more.Roll them into balls.Dredge in flour/egg/panko, then fry them up.
Most Americans are familiar with the chilled Spanish soup Gazpacho, even if most of them make it incorrectly. Yet few Americans have heard of Gazpacho’s more muscular (and far superior) brother, Salmorejo.
Salmorejo resembles Gazpacho in that its primary ingredient is garden fresh tomatoes. But whereas Gazpacho is a thin, refreshing liquid salad, one can think of Salmorejo as a thick, satisfying Gazpacho milkshake.
I first tasted Salmorejo in Granada, Spain and could think of nothing else for the rest of the trip. I mean, really…who gives shit about some stupid Moorish castle when you’ve just inhaled a bowl of the world’s finest chilled soup. It was clear that I either had to figure out how to make Salmorejo at home, or I had to move to Granada and take up busking in order to feed my new addiction.
Fortunately for me (and for all of you), I knew a very talented Spanish chef who shared her recipe. Salmorejo is an embarrassingly easy dish to make, but there are two really, really important things that you’ll need: Excellent tomatoes and an excellent blender.
[Editor’s Note: I have no idea why this photo won’t rotate, but hey…you’re getting all this comedy and culinary gold for free. Back off!]
THE INGREDIENTS
150g Extra virgin olive oil (approx. 3/4 c)
2-4 Garlic cloves
1kg Tomatoes, cut into chunks. Preferably garden fresh or farmer’s market tomatoes; although cherry tomatoes from the grocery store work pretty well in a pinch.
1t Salt
150g Bread, cut into squares (approx. 5 slices)
30g Sherry vinegar or balsamic vinegar (approx. 2T)
Garnishes: Chopped cucumber, proscuitto or jamon iberico, and hard-boiled eggs
THE ASSEMBLY
Step 1: Put garlic, tomatoes, salt, bread, and vinegar into a blender. The better the blender, the smoother the Salmorejo. I use a Vita-Mix. A Ninja will also do the trick.
Step 2: Run blender at high speed to puree the ingredients.
Step 3: While blender is running, pour in EVOO in a thin slow stream.
Step 4: If Salmorejo is perfectly smooth with no visible bits of tomato skin, move on to Step 5. If you can see some bits, then strain the Salmorejo through a food mill or fine sieve.
Step 5: Chill in the fridge for at least two hours.
Step 6: Serve chilled in a bowl or mug and garnish with cukes, jamon, and hard-boiled eggs.
There comes a time in a man’s life when his tastes change. They mature. They evolve.
His love of beer evolves to Bourbon. His love of milk chocolate evolves to dark. His love of Pamela Anderson evolves to that MILF-y librarian checking out organic arugula at Whole Foods.
The same is true of broth.
Sure…we were all raised on chicken broth, and that’s a wonderful thing. But sooner or later, our tastes evolve and we want a hot bowl of liquid animal that doesn’t remind us of being home sick with a cold during junior high school. We want something more…mature.
We want pork broth.
Now…I don’t know about you, but neither my mother nor my grandmothers ever made pork broth when I was growing up. But, then, neither my mother nor my grandmothers were Japanese. So, I’ll give them a pass on that epic fail.
I started with a reputable recipe for beef broth, swapping the beef bones for pork necks. It was good, but its flavor lacked depth. And its aroma did not make me swoon in the way that the scent of my favorite pho shops always do.
I kept tinkering. Fish sauce for umami. Oh, hell…a splash of soy sauce, too. Sugar for sweetness. Lemongrass, cinnamon sticks, star anise, and cloves for aromatics.
Did we nail it?
Well…to quote my wife, “This is the best fucking broth I’ve ever had in my life.”
THE INGREDIENTS
3-3.5 lbs. pork necks (I buy mine at H-Mart, my local Asian market)
Lemongrass (5″ bottom of stalk, woody outer sheaths removed)
STEP 1: Put pork necks in microwave-safe dish. Microwave for 10-12 minutes until browned. You’ll likely need to stir the necks midway through for more even browning. Set aside.
STEP 2: Set 8 quart Instant Pot (or similar multi-cooker) to “Saute.” Add oil and saute onions, carrots, celery, and lemongrass until softened (5 minutes).
STEP 3: Add tomato paste to sauteed vegetables and stir for 30 seconds.
STEP 4: Add red wine to Instant Pot and deglaze pan, scraping up browned bits.
STEP 5: Add pork necks, salt, sugar, star anise, cloves, cinnamon sticks, bay leaves, soy sauce, and fish sauce to Instant Pot.
STEP 6: Add 3 quarts (i.e., 12 cups) water to Instant Pot. If you are using a 6 quart Instant Pot, it won’t fit all 12 cups–so, just add enough water until it reaches the maximum fill line etched on the inner wall of the pot
STEP 7: Lock the lid into place. Set Instant Pot to “Pressure Cook”…”High Pressure”…one and a half hours. Let ‘er rip!
STEP 8: When an hour and a half of high pressure cooking is complete, quick release the pressure valve to let out all the steam. When pressure is fully released, unlock and remove the Instant Pot lid. Strain the solids from the broth.
And there you have it! For $10 worth of ingredients (pork necks are cheap!) and two hours of your life, you’ll have 3 quarts of the best tasting broth this side of the Bosphorus. Your family will love you for it, and your house will smell grrrrreat. ありがとうございました
ON THE FIRST course of Fishmas my goombah gave to me…
Shrimp Cocktail with Remoulade
Step 1: Boil, cool, peel, chill shrimp.
Step 2: For Remoulade, combine the following ingredients in a bowl and stir: 3/4 c Mayo; 1t cider vinegar; 2t Dijon mustard; 2t whole grain mustard; 2t capers; 1t Louisiana hot sauce; chopped scallions; chopped cilantro; salt and pepper.
ON THE SECOND course of Fishmas my goombah gave to me…
Lobster Rolls
[*Truth be told, we bought these from Goldbelly and had them shipped to our house. Don’t judge.]
ON THE THIRD course of Fishmas my goombah gave to me…
Steamed Clams
Step 1: Rinse clams to remove grit. Toss out any that are open or have cracked shells.
Step 2: Steam 1-2 minutes until shells open. Serve as is, with melted butter, or with hot sauce. Toss out any clams that don’t open.
ON THE FOURTH course of Fishmas my goombah gave to me…
Fried Smelts
Step 1: Using a very sharp paring knife, slit open the belly of headless/gutted smelt from [former] head to tail fin. Open the body so that this is flattened/butterflied. Run the knife tip down one side of the spine. Holding the knife blade on its side parallel to the opened/flattened smelt, slide it in a sawing motion under the head-side tip of the spine and continue down to the tail side. Lift spine from body and cut off at the tail fin. For 1 lbs. of smelt, this will be 30 minutes of your life that you’ll never get back. But on the bright side, there will be no Christmas Eve trips to urgent care to have a pin bone extracted from your esophagus.
Step 2: Line up three bowls. One with flour, the second with beaten eggs, and the third with panko bread crumbs. Season the flour and panko with salt, pepper, and Old Bay.
Step 3: Heat canola oil (or other fat with a high smoke point…my mother uses Crisco) in shallow fryer or pan to 425F. Dredge smelt in flour, shake, then egg, then panko, shake.
Step 4: Insert smelt into hot oil and fry until golden brown on underside. Flip and repeat. I like to use wooden chopsticks for this step–but real men use their fingers.
Step 5: When perfectly fried, remove smelt from oil, lay on cookie/cake cooling rack (or paper towel-lined plate), and sprinkle with a wee bit of kosher salt.
ON THE FIFTH course of Fishmas my goombah gave to me…
Linguini with Calamari Sauce
Step 1: Add 1/3 c. olive oil to sauce pan. Saute 1 thinly sliced onion until soft and translucent. Then add 6 anchovy filets for 30 seconds, then 3 minced garlic cloves for 30 seconds. Then, add one small can of tomato paste and fry until it darkens.
Step 2: Add 28 oz can of crushed tomatoes, 15oz can of tomato sauce, and 1 bay leaf. Stir and simmer for 30 minutes over low heat.
Step 3: Add 2 lbs cleaned squid body tubes (cut into rings) and tentacles. The more tentacles, the better. Simmer for additional 15 minutes. Stir in 1 c. chopped parsley or basil before serving. Makes enough sauce for 1 lbs. of linguini. Don’t forget the Parmesan or Romano cheese (it needs that extra dimension of flavor).
ON THE SIXTH course of Fishmas my goombah gave to me…
Linguini with Garlic & Anchovy Sauce
Step 1: Add 1 c. olive oil to sauce pan, plus the oil from one tin of anchovies. Saute 8 minced garlic cloves and 1 tin of anchovies (minced) over medium heat. Be careful not to burn the garlic.
Step 2: Add 1 c. water (allow the oil to cool a bit before doing so, so that it doesn’t explode in your face) and simmer for 10 minutes. Season with salt (if needed) and black pepper. Add 1 c. chopped parsley before serving. Makes enough sauce for 1 lbs. of linguini. Don’t forget the Parmesan or Romano cheese.
ON THE SEVENTH course of Fishmas my goombah gave to me…
Grilled Scallops
Step 1: Brush both sides of scallops with melted butter. Season with salt, pepper, and paprika.
Step 2: On hot charcoal or gas grill, sear scallops one minute per side (max). Don’t overcook, unless you like the texture of a pencil eraser.
ON THE EIGHTH course of Fishmas my goombah gave to me…
Grilled Octopus
Step 1: #RealTalk! This is where we separate the men from the boys. Bring large pot of salted water to boil. Dip octopus into boiling water for one second then lift. Its tentacles will begin to curl. Dip two more times (they should be good and curly by now), then drop into water and reduce heat to low. Simmer for one hour. Remove and pat dry.
Step 2: Heat charcoal or gas grill. Toss poached octopus with olive oil, salt, and peppah! Grill octopus for one minute each side. When crisped on the grill, remove to cutting board.
Step 3: Cut tentacles and head into 2-3″ sections. Toss with a bit more olive oil/salt/pepper, squeeze of fresh lemon, and a handful of chopped parsley.
ON THE NINTH course of Fishmas my goombah gave to me…
Salmon with Soy-Ginger Marinade
Step 1: Combine the following ingredients in a bowl: 1/3 c. soy sauce; 1/3 c. brown sugar; 1 T sesame oil; 3 cloves minced garlic; 1T minced ginger; red pepper flakes.
Step 2: Place side of salmon (we prefer Atlantic over Pacific) in large zip-lock bag. Pour in the marinade. Seal bag, and place in fridge overnight. Flip bag every now and then to distribute the marinade.
Step 3: Place salmon on parchment paper-covered baking sheet. Bake in 425F oven for 15 minutes (or grill the damn thing, if you prefer).
ON THE TENTH course of Fishmas my goombah gave to me…
Crab Claws
Step 1: Bring large pot of salted water to boil.
Step 2: Submerge crab claws in water and boil for 3 minutes.
Step 3: Remove crab claws, give them a good couple of cracks with a mallet, and serve with melted salted butter. Not so hard.
ON THE ELEVENTH course of Fishmas my goombah gave to me, THIS!
UPDATE (12/28/2020): Inspired by the fantastic movie “Feast of the Seven Fishes,” we added a new dish in 2020. Baccala Balls! They were awesome. Recipe and photos HERE.
Vegetarianism is a choice. My step-daughter is a vegetarian.
Six days a week, she is both proud of and happy with her choice. But on the seventh day, not so much.
Why? Because once a week we serve macaroni for dinner. And the macaroni in our home is always dressed with the Oliva Family Macaroni Sauce—a rich, flavorful ragu that’s chock full of fork-tender cow and pig parts. It’s an Italian-American style of sauce that folks in some cities refer to (rightly or oddly) as “Sunday Gravy.”
For years I’ve tried to ignore the sad spectacle of my step-daughter pecking away at a plate of rigatoni with Trader Joe’s jarred marinara sauce, while the rest of us revel in the rapture of a tomatoey umami-gasm. But alas, I could no longer shoulder the guilt.
I vowed to free my step-daughter from the shackles of insipid jarred sauce! After all…if I was able to crack the code of an item as beastly and torturous as pusties, then surely I could figure out how to make a vegetarian macaroni sauce that tastes meaty.
And I did. Spoiler Alert: Mushrooms and soy sauce are the key ingredients.
Here’s the recipe…
THE
INGREDIENTS
28 oz. Crushed
Tomato
28 oz. Tomato Puree
12 oz. Tomato Paste
2 cloves of Garlic
(crushed with side of knife and skins removed)
15 oz. Water
Olive oil
Red wine for deglazing (if needed)
Soy sauce
12 oz Veggie Italian Sausage, cut into 1” chunks
12 oz Morningstar
Grillers Crumbles (or similar item)
1 lbs. Mushrooms, quartered or sliced (I use a combo of Shitake and Crimini)
Step
1: Sautee onions and mushrooms in olive oil on medium-high
heat. Add Morningstar Crumbles and
garlic, sauté for 30 seconds.
Deglaze with a healthy splash of soy sauce, and reduce. Remove and transfer to slow cooker.
Step
2: Add veggie sausage
and sauté until browned on all sides. Remove and transfer to slow cooker.
Step 3: Add tomato paste and (stirring frequently) fry until darkened, but not burned. Deglaze with wine, scraping up any browned bits cling to the bottom of the pot. Remove and transfer to slow cooker.
Step 4: Add crushed tomato, tomato puree, veggie meatballs, and water to slow cooker. Stir to combine all ingredients. Taste and adjust with more soy sauce, if needed. Yeah, I know what you’re thinking. “Why the bloody hell is he putting soy sauce in an Italian dish?!” Trust me on this. Soy sauce tastes like liquid meat.
Step 5: Set slow
cooker to low, and let it simmer away for 4-8 hours.
Step 6: Season with parsley/basil and cheese upon serving.
NOTES
Note: I use a slow cooker, because I can set
it and forget it. You can
certainly simmer the sauce on a stovetop, but who wants sit at home all day
babysitting a pot of sauce?!
Note 2: I served this sauce to a group of high school cheerleaders when we hosted a Team Dinner last week. They all loved it and commented that they would not have guessed it was vegetarian. Well…all but the one cheerleader who demanded plain noodles with butter. Sigh…’merica!
Note
3: You’re probably wondering why there’s
an Instant Pot in the photo above.
Well…my original intention was to make this sauce in an Instant
Pot—which would decrease the simmering time from hours to minutes. But the Instant Pot was an epic
fail. The sauce scorched on the
bottom of the pot, thus triggering the “Burn” warning before the Instant Pot
reached high pressure. Unfortunately, the only photo I have on
my phone is this one. I’ll replace
it with a new photo the next time I make a batch.
Note 4: If any of you can figure out how to make this recipe in an Instant Pot without triggering the “Burn,” you may be eligible to receive a collector’s edition “Sal’s VTB Tote Bag!”
Note 5: Has it really been two years since I last posted? That’s a wee bit pathetic. I’ll try to do better in the future.
Hello, friends, family, and Uticans past and present. We are gathered here today to celebrate the life of my mother—Master Chef Frances Cecere Oliva. Hers was a long, giggly, gourmet life.
Frances was born in Utica in 1919. For those of you who might be math-challenged, that was almost 100 years ago.
Her parents, Angelo Cecere and Anna Agrusti, were born in the city of Alberbello in the Italy’s Puglia region—also known as “the heel.” Alberobello is an architecturally unique, UNESCO World Heritage site. It is famous for its white-washed buildings with cone-shaped “trulli” roofs, its orrechiette pasta, and its vegetable-heavy regional cuisine. Alberobello is a popular tourist destination for Europeans with good taste—and a popular destination for our family.
Angelo and Anna immigrated to the US. We’re not exactly sure when, but it predated the iPhone.
Fran was the third of four sisters—Mae, Molly, and Jo. We often refer to them as the “Giggle Sisters.” Giggling is what they did when they were together. They giggled at parties. They giggled on the phone. They even giggled during the final scene of Old Yeller.
She had a younger brother, Joe, who was also giggly—although, unlike the sisters, Uncle Joe’s giggles usually came on the heels of a dirty joke.
Rounding out the Ceceres was Uncle Frank. Not so giggly, but a handsome, quietly cheerful guy that was an artist of some renown in Upstate NY.
Fran married my father, Cataldo (aka, “Sam”…aka, “Gates”) Oliva in 1942. Dad was decidedly NOT giggly. His schtick was more of a razor-sharp, bone-dry, biting sarcasm—a trait that, for better or worse, has been inherited by some.
Fran was Yin to Sam’s Yang, but they made it work. They were married for 65 years, had three children, 8 grandchildren, too many great grandchildren to count on a normal person’s fingers and toes, and 2 great-great grandchildren.
When people reflect on my mother, she evokes many different memories. But the only memories that matter are those of my son…because I strong-armed him into writing this eulogy.
When my son thinks of his Nonnie, he thinks of her cooking. I suspect that many of you think the same.
The smells and flavors that came from her kitchen defined our family. Truly, the flavor, essence, and identity of the Oliva, DeTraglia, Gianfrancesco, Lowell, Sizemore, Occhipinti, and Weigand families can be reduced to—and is epitomized by—a spoonful of my mother’s tomatoey, meat-heavy Macaroni Sauce.
When my son was 20, he had a revelation: “Someday, Nonnie will die.” Ok…so his estimate was off by almost 30 years, but let’s not split hairs.
So he sat down with her and said, “Explain to me how you make all this stuff.”
She immediately began rattling off a list of ingredients. “You add a little parsley. Then toss in some cheese. A smidge of this…a handful of that.”
Now, this sort of abstract explanation does not sit well with a 20 year old’s less-than-fully-formed brain.
“Wait, wait!” he said. “When you say ‘Add a little parsley’… how much parsley should I add?”
She looked at him as if he had just asked Abraham Lincoln, “So…what do you do for a living?”
Then she did what all truly great cooks do. She said, “How much parsley? I don’t know…just taste it.”
After a few more minutes of debating the merits of Art vs. Science, my mother said, “Let me play around in the kitchen and I’ll get back to you.”
A few weeks later, my son received a package containing a small stack of hand-written index cards. They were her recipes, written in the language of “teaspoons and tablespoons.”
Each person was put on earth for a purpose. My son’s purpose was to preserve my mother’s best recipes for posterity. Which he did…with 30 years to spare.
Her recipes have been posted to a website. They’ve been accessed, shared, and used by people around the world. They’ve been published in the “Taste of Utica Cookbook,” by Joe Mezzanini and Jeanann Murphy (available on Lulu.com).
And…believe it or not…if you Google the words “pusty recipe,” the first or second link listed is my mother’s pusty recipe.
The death of a loved one is never a happy occasion, except to the extent that it brings reunion, reconciliation, and remembrance. On behalf of myself and my family, we thank you for coming and celebrating my mother’s long, giggly, gourmet life.
We no longer can see or hear her, but we—and many others throughout the world—will continue to taste her for years to come.
I know it doesn’t look like much now, but give me a few weeks to whip this website into shape. It’s only one day old.
I am still thinking through the purpose and focus of this website, in addition to figuring out how to use WordPress. So…I don’t currently know where this is heading.
But in the meantime…you’ll find below 400+ posts that I published on my Blogger Virtual Tapas Bar blog during the years 2004 to present. Some of the photos didn’t migrate over, but all other content seems present and accounted for.
“Finish each day and be done with it. You have done what you could. Some blunders and absurdities no doubt crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day. You shall begin it serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense.”
