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.
“The Nasty Women Project” is a compilation of essays and poems written by normal, everyday women in the aftermath of the 2016 Presidential elections. My wife, Anne, contributed a poem to the compilation.
Read it, stand on it, use it as a cocktail coaster. Hell, I don’t care what you do with it. Just buy a copy (and, ideally, a few more for friends, relatives, and that drunk Uncle that you only see on Thanksgiving).
Available in hardcover, paperback, and Kindle via Amazon.com.
Although I don’t like to brag about it, I am the 78,456th most famous man in Spain.
So when the publication El Confidencial asked to interview me about the tortuous process of obtaining a Spanish driver’s license as an expat, how could I refuse them the “Sally D. Bump?!”
Besides, I had already written extensively on this topic in a 2004 blog post–which, I guess, makes me a leading authority on failing the exam.
You can read the El Confidencial article HERE. Check it out! You need to practice your Spanish.
[Note: My cousin, Tony, and I tag-teamed the writing of this eulogy for his father (my uncle), Sam Oliva. Tony delivered the eulogy at the memorial gathering, and it is therefore written in his voice.]
A man’s legacy is not determined by the amount of wealth or possessions he accumulated. It’s determined by the number of lives he changed.
My dad—“Mr. O”… “Uncle Sammy”… “Professor Big-a-nose”… “Galloping Groovy, the Gourmet Weatherman”…changed a lot of lives.
My dad’s own life was full of interesting experiences, artistic accomplishments, and enormous influence.
He was born in Utica, NY to first generation Southern Italians. Utica is a formerly thriving industrial city in upstate NY that was home to a huge Italian-American population—90% of which seemed to be an aunt, uncle, cousin, or friend of his.
Growing up in Utica, he had two passions: Food, and music.
The food passion was by stroke of luck. His mother was one of the best home cooks in central NY. She spoiled him rotten with a childhood full of tomato pie, pusties, homemade ravioli, fried zucchini blossoms, the onion/olive/anchovy calzone called “Fucazzo,” and most importantly…the Oliva family’s made-from-scratch, meat-heavy macaroni sauce.
If his passion for food was by stroke of luck, his passion for music was driven by talent, intelligence, and relentless practice.
He put down his fork and picked up a string bass. Inspired heavily by his musical idol, Paul McCartney, his string bass morphed into a bass guitar. Several bass guitars, in fact. And he played those bass guitars for a number of renowned central NY bands—most notably, the “Four Syns,” “Aerodrome,” and the jazz/rock fusion band “Fuel.”
He graduated from Proctor High School at age 17, and left home to become a touring musician. This was a gutsy move; and not always a smart one. He once spent the night in a Florida jail when local police discovered that the youthful-looking electric bassist on the tavern’s stage was, in fact, still a youth. True story.
He did session work during those early years with a number of major acts—including the Beach Boys, the Mills Brothers, and Daryl Dragon from the Captain & Tennille.
How many of you can say that you’ve met The Captain?
And, of course…after moving to Nashville, he spent two decades playing in Boots Randolph’s band.
He was a private pilot for many years, and a commercial pilot with Catskills Airline for a few. His biggest and most important vocation, however, was as a middle and high school music teacher.
But he was more than just a teacher. He was a mentor. A role model. A challenger of mediocrity. He was a builder and shaper of young men and women—coaxing them, cajoling them, bullying them to be better than they knew or believed they could be. And he did it in a way that still seemed fun.
When it was announced on Facebook two weeks ago that his journey was coming to an end, nearly 150 former students and colleagues—some from as far away as California—poured into the air park for one last class with Mr. O.
Most of you have read the avalanche of Facebook tributes that followed. But in case you haven’t, here’s a small sampling:
“Mr. Oliva was hands down the BEST music teacher I could’ve asked for. Starting from being a complete violin noob to first chair in one year. He taught me so much.”
“One of the most honorable, loving, gifted, smart men I have ever met. He touched so many lives.”
“It still amazes me how well his kids played despite being in the type of high school where string programs rarely thrive.”
“He was my orchestra teacher from 7th-12th grades and taught me how to play the violin, but more importantly he taught me about life.”
Mr. O wasn’t just a music teacher to me. He was a father figure in my life who cared deeply for his students’ safety and well-being.”
“[He] did more in [his] time on this earth than most will ever do. [He] left a legacy of musicians and music lovers.”
“He has taught me so much more than how to read notes and tune a violin. He taught me that music can heal the deepest wounds and that our orchestra was a family.”
“Some people have such an impact on your life and the way you conduct yourself in your career. I only had the pleasure to work beside him for four years, but the impact he had on me and so many others has been great. He knew how to take care of me while at the same time treat me as an equal colleague even though I had nowhere near the experience or cred that he did. The lessons he taught his students were life changing. The lessons he taught me were life-giving. If I can be half the teacher he was, I will be doing well.”
“He is a big reason why I am the person I am today. When life got crazy around me and school was challenging, I couldn’t wait to go to my Orchestra class and forget about everything and play music. I appreciate music so much more because of him.”
“We went through some super awkward phases together, and this man walked us through all of them. He taught us so much more than music. He invested his time, energy, his whole heart, and even his own finances into us. He got up at dawn to meet me at All-State auditions for moral support. He gave me private lessons after school to prepare me for those auditions. He took us on adventures and gave us experiences we wouldn’t have had otherwise, like convincing our principal that a trip to Six Flags was educational, and getting into a real recording studio to record a CD. He believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself.”
“We may not have come from much, but [he] brought us much joy through music. [He] helped us discover our abilities to persevere and succeed not only in music but in life. We will never forget the care [he] showed us or the values [he] instilled in us and will cherish our memories of [him] forever.
“I was never in Samuel Oliva’s class, but we taught together for seven years. I cannot even begin to describe how much of my teaching style comes from Sam mentoring me all those years. He was a fantastic musician, and was so skilled at building relationships with his kids. I was always amazed at how he could hold his students to such high standards and make them love every second of it along the way. My students may never know, but he is still having an influence on THEM because of what he taught me.”
“[He was] so much more than a teacher. [He was] a friend, confidant, mentor but most of all [he was] a parent to so many of us. No matter how irritating we all were, [he] never gave up on any of us. [He] loved unconditionally. Some of my best childhood memories are with [him] and all the class trips we went on.”
“I only pray that my son is lucky enough to have a teacher who invests in him half as much as Mr. O did all of us.”
So…as I said at the beginning…a man’s legacy is not determined by the amount of wealth or possessions he accumulated. It’s determined by the number of lives he changed.
In this respect, my dad’s legacy is enormous. “Mr. Holland’s Opus” ain’t got nothin’ on “Mr. O’s Opus.” “Jerry’s Kids” ain’t got nothin’ on “Sammy’s Kids.”
I don’t know if my dad realized the enormity of his legacy until just a few weeks ago.
Let’s be honest. He often complained about the frustrations of teaching. He often lamented that he never got to pilot 747s from Nashville to Italy and back. But the life he lived was far more valuable than that of any airline pilot—because spread throughout the world are hundreds of former students that are better musicians, better teachers, better parents, better human beings than they otherwise would’ve been. All—or, at least, in large part—due to my dad.
This, I know, he finally realized in the end.
So…if I had a glass of Scotch in my hand (and believe me, I will before this day is over), I’d raise it in celebration of Professor Big-a-nose. The body is gone, but the man lives on.
He lives on through me.
Through his step-children.
Through his nieces and nephews [ESPECIALLY SAL, WHO IS HIDING IN A CONFERENCE ROOM WRITING THIS WHEN HE IS SUPPOSED TO BE WORKING].
The word “tortilla” in Spanish of the Americas means a thin, starchy, floppy disc that keeps the contents of a 950 calorie burrito from exploding onto your lap. In Spain, however, it means something entirely different.
“Tortilla,” in the land of Cervantes, means a thick, Frittata-like, potato and egg omelette. It is, quite arguably, the greatest coupling of protein and carbohydrates since Five Guys’ bacon double cheeseburger with fries.
More so than Paella—which, although sophisticated and widely known, is really a regional (i.e., Valencian) dish—Tortilla Espanola is *the* national dish of Spain. Nearly every bar throughout the country will have a Tortilla Espanola sitting at room temperature on the counter—a hunk of which will likely be served as a tapa to accompany your glass of beer or wine.
But making Tortilla Espanola at home poses two challenges: (a) peeling, cutting, and frying the potatoes is tedious, messy, and time-consuming; and (b) getting the Tortilla’s center to cook through without scorching the surface is tricky.
But I’ve cracked both codes through research, trial, and error. Lots of error. And my now-perfected method is so quick and effortless that we often make Tortilla Espanola as a weeknight dinner—much to the delight of our children, both vegetarian and non-vegetarian…Spanish and non-Spanish.
So…what are the keys to my easy and fool-proof Tortilla? There are two: (a) use frozen French fries; and (b) start the Tortilla on the stovetop, but finish it in the oven.
Yeah, yeah, yeah…I know. No Spanish grandmother would ever, in a million years, use frozen French fries to make a Tortilla Espanola. Then, again…no Spanish grandmother understands the difference between a private message and a Facebook post. Just sayin’.
Progress waits for no granny. So…vamos, chicos! Let’s make…
NOT YOUR GRANDMA’S TORTILLA ESPANOLA!
(As bastardized by a lazy-yet-talented, US-born, former expat)
Ingredients:
1 lbs. Frozen French fries
10 Eggs
1 Onion (sliced thinly)
2 Garlic cloves (minced)
Shredded cheese (Cheddar, Monterrey Jack, Queso Cotija, or whatever the hell you like)
Kosher Salt
Extra virgin olive oil (EVOO)
10″ non-stick, oven-safe skillet
Step 1: Spread frozen fries in a single layer across cookie sheet and bake in oven til crisp and golden brown. 20-25 minutes (flipping once) at 450F usually does the trick, but check the baking instructions on the back of the bag. Sprinkle with salt and set aside.
Step 2: Crack eggs into a large bowl, sprinkle with salt, and whisk until combined and smooth.
Step 3: Add EVOO to skillet on stovetop at medium heat. When EVOO shimmers, add onions to skillet, sprinkle with salt, and saute til soft.
Step 4: Add garlic to softened onions and saute for thirty seconds more. Don’t burn the garlic. Burnt garlic tastes like mierda.
Step 5: Add the onions, garlic, fries, and a big handful of shredded cheese to the bowl with beaten eggs. Mix with a wooden spoon to combine evenly, hacking at the fries to break them up a bit.
Step 6: Add more EVOO to skillet on stovetop at medium heat. When EVOO shimmers, add egg mixture. Shake skillet briefly to even out egg mixture, and cook until bottom and sides just begin to set (perhaps 30-45 seconds).
Step 7: Transfer skillet into 450F oven. Bake on middle rack for 15 minutes.
Step 8: Remove skillet from oven. Don’t forget to wear an oven mitt, or you will experience Raiders of the Lost Ark déjà vu. Put a large plate on top of the skillet, flip, and lift skillet so that Tortilla sits on plate.
Step 9: Slide Tortilla onto a cooling rack. Let cool to room temperature. Some uncooked egg may drip to the countertop, but don’t worry. The center of the Tortilla will continue to cook and solidify as it rests.
Step 10: When cooled to room temperature-ish, cut Tortilla into wedges or squares (depending on your aesthetic sensibilities).
Just to make this bastardization of a classic even more blasphemous, I like to eat it with a Salsa Brava dipping sauce made by mixing ketchup, mayo, and Sriracha sauce.
