tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30269802859071371372024-09-13T11:12:42.579-07:00Italian-Canadian heritage, memories and recipesirememberpastahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12236340925593179242noreply@blogger.comBlogger31125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3026980285907137137.post-48154243491959970192012-02-29T11:39:00.017-08:002012-02-29T13:23:34.895-08:00

Three years ago, when I was driving to my Aunt’s house, I saw something that opened the Italian-Canadian flood gates of my mind. Memories of happy days with cousins and friends came flooding back to me, and after spending time with Zia, I rushed home to write them all down as a tribute to my Italian-Canadian roots.  While writing out my memories, one particular thought hit me like a

irememberpastahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12236340925593179242noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3026980285907137137.post-83392861689842578302012-02-08T18:32:00.000-08:002012-02-08T19:17:05.947-08:00

When I was 10 years old, my Dad had a heart attack. It happened after a New Year’s Eve gathering at our house in the middle of the night. When my sister and I woke up, only Nonna was there. My parents had taken the ambulance to the hospital. Three days later, Dad suffered another heart attack, only this time it landed him a 3-month hospital stay.  It was a game changer for all of us. Do you

irememberpastahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12236340925593179242noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3026980285907137137.post-91342231975278419932012-02-01T18:08:00.000-08:002012-02-01T18:08:59.487-08:00

In his button-up coat, far right, is Mr. BBQ  with his siblings, cousins, and Nonni, fondly remembered by all as Babu and Dido. Nonna Maria TV had me doubled over this week. I laughed so hard I feel like I’ve done a month of situps. Thanks to everyone who sent it to me. It’s vintage. Did our Nonnas all go to the same school?  Did they all learn the fine art of what to do with shoes?

irememberpastahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12236340925593179242noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3026980285907137137.post-42815301697705213322012-01-24T13:22:00.000-08:002012-01-24T13:22:18.846-08:00

When did grocery shopping get so complicated?  I remember the days when I’d go to one store, pick up everything that was on my list, come home...realize I had forgotten a few items...add them to my list for next week and put everything away while the kids helped and snacked on all the best goods. Now it goes more like this:  drive to the store but while the rapini looks pretty good,

irememberpastahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12236340925593179242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3026980285907137137.post-22236274778475330332012-01-17T12:50:00.000-08:002012-01-17T20:16:13.504-08:00

I hope you had many heart-warming gatherings over the holiday season.  Or was it the type of Christmas that reminded you of boots?  As in I parenti sono come gli stivali…piu vanno stretti e piu fanno male. Rhyming translation: Family is like a pair of boots, the tighter they are, the more of a pain in your hootch. I’ve known both varieties of Christmas but Grazie a Gesu Bambino this

irememberpastahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12236340925593179242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3026980285907137137.post-34641679599319890182011-12-13T09:19:00.000-08:002011-12-13T19:16:30.216-08:00

Heaven help the hostess who asks me to bring dessert. I am not a baker, nor have I ever been.  The reasons for this are probably rooted in family medical history (a story for another day), and though I've tried my best over the years, it's probably in everyone's best interest if i dolcetti come from someone with a sweet tooth who can deliver.  One of the worst cakes I ever

irememberpastahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12236340925593179242noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3026980285907137137.post-66851140349362544572011-12-07T10:10:00.000-08:002011-12-07T19:08:49.863-08:00

When my youngest was little, I was a stay-at-home mom for a few years.  Life slowed down in heaps. There was an abundance of time-- the kind that gets you moving fridges and stoves and dressers and commodes to get at dust bunnies and their babies.  There was time enough to make stuffed chickens, stuffed peppers and stuffed zucchini.  There was time for traditional Eggplant

irememberpastahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12236340925593179242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3026980285907137137.post-23804006676460670342011-11-30T10:52:00.000-08:002011-11-30T19:53:15.202-08:00

There are only two answers to that question.  One is short; the other one endless. The short one is pretty straight forward, and is an explanation most of us have heard many times: you know pasta is cooked al dente when you bite into it and it's still firm. Pretty simple isn't it?  And yet something is missing. Where's all the emotion, hand gesticulation, anxiety? And that's when

irememberpastahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12236340925593179242noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3026980285907137137.post-29580720110870689992011-11-23T14:40:00.000-08:002011-11-23T14:30:34.439-08:00

Random thoughts from a pasta lover Is life like a bowl of pasta?  While gazing at the mile-long display of dried pasta in the grocery store last week, this question came to me.  Pasta was on sale, three for $5.00; a mix and match type of deal.  Do I pick farfalle, spaghettini and bowties, or penne, spaghetti and bowties?  Or maybe just two spaghetti and one bowtie?  

irememberpastahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12236340925593179242noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3026980285907137137.post-17745156239499234812011-11-01T15:05:00.000-07:002011-11-01T19:29:01.708-07:00

Eight years ago, a friend of ours bought a wine-making business. We were happy to support him, though I was skeptical about making our own wine. Despite the wonderful smells that lingered for weeks in and around our neighborhood every Fall when I was growing up, I couldn't erase the thought of fresh grapes fermenting into a stiff and unsavory turpentine-like-beverage that never seemed to bother

irememberpastahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12236340925593179242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3026980285907137137.post-28065930405318947972011-10-24T09:59:00.000-07:002011-10-24T13:08:51.550-07:00

At this time of year I silently mourn the end of Shepherd's peppers. Not to be seen in any grocery store around here til sometime late next summer, they disappear unsung...no quiet ceremony bidding them goodbye, no poem to describe how unique and glorious they are.  Am I the only one wondering why these heavenly sweet-tasting peppers can't be available year-round? Assuming they can be grown

irememberpastahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12236340925593179242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3026980285907137137.post-72002658290239122932011-10-15T04:23:00.001-07:002011-10-15T15:51:37.906-07:00

Turkey was the main ingredient for many of us last week.  I hope  you had a happy holiday. We had a couple of lively and memorable Thanksgiving gatherings stuffing ourselves like a bunch of turkeys.  Our appetites for several rounds of nutrition and fine wine reminds me of that lively song La Societa dei Mangnaccioni, do you remember that one?  It's the story of a group of

irememberpastahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12236340925593179242noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3026980285907137137.post-81873086606251714802011-10-04T08:38:00.000-07:002011-10-04T08:40:34.852-07:00

Rather than wishing for the rainy weather to go away, I gathered some of my market veggies to make a chill-defying soup this morning.  This miserable weather calls for some comfort food.  Soup, zuppa, minestra, and plain, delicious brodo...so many memories come to my mind beginning with my mom's steamy stracciatella.  I used to watch her beat the eggs and grated cheese with a fork

irememberpastahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12236340925593179242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3026980285907137137.post-63757623438826906132011-10-01T16:19:00.000-07:002011-10-01T17:49:01.462-07:00

We spent some of our morning at the Farmer's Market.  We walk there often on Saturday mornings from spring to fall.  It's a chance to visit with neighbors, exchange recipe information with total strangers and bump into old friends who live on the other side of town.  Today we joked with friends who asked us to try the new variety of Strawberries called the "trymes".  What are

irememberpastahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12236340925593179242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3026980285907137137.post-33643774348707633552011-09-13T15:56:00.001-07:002011-09-15T13:21:07.292-07:00

Can you hear the Tarantella music in the air?  It's Tomato High Holy Season. Please forgive me for disappearing for a while.  I've been covered in tomato sauce as have many of my friends and other family members.  I've taken breaks from canning and preserving to help my kids back into their fall routines, a juggling challenge molto supremo. Yes, it's party time for those of us

irememberpastahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12236340925593179242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3026980285907137137.post-46914029028399723862011-08-24T21:37:00.000-07:002011-08-24T21:37:17.232-07:00

If I didn't have my kitchen, I'm pretty sure I would be a Tibetan monk by now. I get more and more breathless as I age.  Enter my breath again as I lean over my kitchen counter in one of my favorite yoga di cucina positions: reaching for the eggplant with one hand while extending my fingers to grasp the cutting board with the other. I'm pretty sure this is because I feel the need for

irememberpastahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12236340925593179242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3026980285907137137.post-31676567154998139362011-08-17T03:41:00.000-07:002011-08-17T12:22:23.907-07:00

We were all home for two weeks and-- when we weren't getting on each others' nerves--  it was very nice.  As my mother often said when she tried to get us all moving in the same direction: Ogni Testa e Tribunale.  Roughly translated:  Too many Chiefs, not enough Indians.  What can you do?  Family. Can't live with them...can't live without them. We hung out mostly

irememberpastahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12236340925593179242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3026980285907137137.post-2726779541218225522011-07-31T19:42:00.000-07:002011-07-31T19:42:35.135-07:00

It's peak salad season, no question about it.  At my house, we've been munching on raw veggies like bunnies in the fields at night.   Unlike bunnies, though, we've had baskets full of crusty (and non-crusty) bread, crostini, taralli, tarallini...Name your favorite gluten, it's been here. Salads, crunchy grains and, of course, Mr. BBQ's fare. My great griller of meats uses a mix of

irememberpastahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12236340925593179242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3026980285907137137.post-83402753005898085632011-07-26T08:58:00.001-07:002011-07-26T12:34:34.369-07:00

Chickpea salad with ricotta salata and sun-dried tomatoes I woke up to a rainy day today and it felt great.    The heat we had this past week was distracting.   It had been too hot to cook inside and too hot to cook outside.  Too hot to breathe just about.  I'm not complaining.  I'm just saying, it was soooo nice to have a cool, rainy morning.  Extreme

irememberpastahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12236340925593179242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3026980285907137137.post-36509655689193205922011-07-18T13:37:00.000-07:002011-07-18T13:37:00.794-07:00

How many times did I see my mom and my aunts holding a small spoon up in the air, twirling it like an airplane coming in for a landing?  There in the highchair sat a chubby cheeked child who just didn't want to eat.  "Ecco il treno!  Choo, choo!"  The train, the airplane...look here comes the truck (brmmm! brmmm!) to park in the garage.  Those little mouths would open

irememberpastahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12236340925593179242noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3026980285907137137.post-21976858631759699972011-07-11T18:19:00.000-07:002011-07-11T18:19:00.206-07:00

Summertime often means unexpected guests and impromptu get togethers.  And at our place it rarely happens on the days the fridge is full of food!  No worries.  Every good cook is part Iron Chef after all.  And isn't half the fun testing our creative abilities under pressure?  Here are a few quick and easy ideas that help me cope with unexpected company.  1.

irememberpastahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12236340925593179242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3026980285907137137.post-64311363225942729582011-07-05T20:38:00.000-07:002011-07-05T20:38:27.542-07:00

Try this version of sausage and peppers this BBQ season. If you ever Google the word frugal and click on Images you might get a picture of my nonna talking with your nonna.  What would they be saying?  I imagine it would be something like this: (My nonna:) "Take these pepper seeds.  I share them with you.  We grew the best red peppers last year!" (Your nonna:) "

irememberpastahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12236340925593179242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3026980285907137137.post-69257158084972713172011-06-27T20:41:00.000-07:002011-06-27T20:41:04.408-07:00

This is the week to reminisce about our roots and be thankful for all we have here.  While many of us will sing or hear our national anthem on Friday, there's another song I think of at this time of year called Che Sara by I Ricchi e Poveri.  Do you remember that tune from the early 70s?  It's a song about someone who decides to leave their hilltop village because it's almost

irememberpastahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12236340925593179242noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3026980285907137137.post-59611176645888750612011-06-22T12:09:00.000-07:002011-06-22T12:09:38.822-07:00

 Breakfast is fresh fruit, cottage cheese topped with walnuts and real maple syrup, and cardamom tea. These days I'm up earlier than usual.  School is almost out and my anxiety is rising. Heading for the back porch with my breakfast, I spend time just trying to calm myself down.  Summer brings a whole new set of parenting challenges.  But for this very moment I just want to

irememberpastahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12236340925593179242noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3026980285907137137.post-17579865823143843442011-06-20T14:35:00.000-07:002011-10-15T04:17:01.458-07:00

When we were playing with cousins, it was hard to leave any of our outdoor games to head for the kitchen table.   "Can't we just eat out here, Ma?  Why do we have to come in?" We had all the family we needed outside-- and besides, didn't she know how hard it was to cut short a game of hide and seek?  Even if it was for pasta?  It was no trouble for any of us to declare

irememberpastahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12236340925593179242noreply@blogger.com2