Happy Easter

Wishing all of you the happiest of Easters. Hope the Easter Bunny comes by to sweeten your day!

Spring Hopes Eternal

With the sad news from Italy and other worldwide events that make you reflect, I am reminded of gratitude. In the last few weeks, I have felt as if I dwelled in a land that lost their spring. So instead of sighing continuously about it, I decided it was time to search for it.

I cleared a few leaves and under a Norwegian maple - I found the tips of a tulip breaking ground.

It nourishes the soul.

My garden had two inches of chives leaning towards the sun.

It will nourish our bodies.

And the patio brings our first dandelion of the season.

A touch of reality.

Inside the home, my tomatoes, basil and arugula thrive.

Leaving me with the knowledge that this summer, I will have a generous Caperese salad.

Small harbingers that show me that Spring is not lost. And I am grateful for what I have.

The Magical Cake

Fairy tales need a magical occurrence. More and more, I wonder why these occurrences are not related to food. Last night, I had 5 friends over dinner. A few directors, designers, and other assorted theatricals. We spoke of casting Lakeshore Players Ten-Minute Play Festival, a set design for Pinocchio, the continuing snow, visiting opossums and whatever clicked into our brains. And so the conversation remained - electric currents that buzzed about the arts, the news, science and the weather. The baked brie smothered in porcinis and shiitakes that spent the day swimming in wine helped keep conversation flowing. The fresh baby lettuce was consumed and our brains stayed on track. Even though the ravioli called for way too much burnt butter and pignoli nuts (note to self: alter recipe), we touched on owning cats, raising children, cycling, playwrighting and expectations in life. Even the Pinot Grigio, Newcastle Ale and Pellegrino had no influence on the ebb and flow of conversation.

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And then I brought out Molly Winzeberg's "Winning Hearts and Mind" chocolate cake. She knows from where she speaks. Part torte, part fudge, part brownie and part magic, conversation ceased. One hearty soul had a second piece. Dollops of cream made it's way around the table. Thicker than a mousse, lighter than a cake, more soul-satisfying than a piece of artisan chocolate, hearts and mind were won. And the conversation took an interesting turn. After consuming the cake, we discussed Facebook. Seven people over the age of forty (who are all "member friends") conversing about the innuendo involved if you send someone "a poke." One slice of a chocolate-cloud of a pie and our brains switched from somewhat intelligent to the inane.

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For the finale, all gathered around the stairs to watch "Pippin the Kitten" fly through railings playing with a stuffed mouse. For twenty minutes. The chocolate cake had worked its magic and reduced seven adults to an an altered state of complete silliness. The cake couldn't be easier. It's foolproof. And ending a dinner party in the silly-zone is like taking a mini-vacation from everyday life.

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Molly's recipe is here. Take the journey. It's worth the calories.

When Simple is Just Enough - Aunt Fay's Mushrooms

Aunt Fay was fiercely devoted to her home. According to Aunt Fay, there were two careers open for women: teacher and nurse. In both cases, these were careers that gave you enough flexibility to keep a proper home and raise a family. Then the 60's and 70's came and the world whirled. Teen adolescents could dream of being anything. But Aunt Fay was adamant. You want work that allows for family. Aunt Fay claimed to want the simple life and I believe she did. She never veered from her childhood home. She visited Italy because her husband's family still lived there. But she was never going to winter in Vegas or Florida or Arizona. She liked being home. I was touched when she made the trip to Minnesota for my wedding. (Pictured below: Aunt Fay in pink, then that force of nature - my Aunt Rose and then my Aunt Annette.) Aunt Fay was not a traveller.

When I visited New York with husband and kids in tow, there were appetizers, dinner, wine and she invited the family for a huge dinner so I could see everyone at once. When I awoke in the morning, she had already done her 30 minutes on the bicycle in the basement, scrubbed the floors on her hands and knees and had the laundry going. And she was in her 80's! She was prepared with brown coffee or black and some morning biscuits were always nearby.

Nobody could accuse her of being "easy going." She was capable of holding a leg-of-lamb (perfectly cooked) over the garbage can - threatening to throw away Easter dinner because someone was late and the lamb was now too well done to serve.

When, my family had arranged to go down the block to visit Aunt Rose for a night, Aunt Fay wouldn't hear of it. We had already dirtied two sets of sheets. Did it make sense to go two blocks away and dirty two more sets?

Growing up, when she uttered the exclamation heard in many Italian families, "If you do that again, I'll cut your heart out!" - you believed her. And someday, I will relate the Easter "mutton" story.

It is a wonder then that she supported my career choice of "actress" and never did refer to it as "one step off of the street." She was hugely indignant when she found out an actress in her favorite soap opera who was playing an Italian woman - wasn't Italian! She insisted I go straight to the casting director and offer them my services because at least I was Italian! She was sure the other actress would be instantly fired and they would recast with me.

That's the support you get in an Italian family. We may (and do!) war at each other and get our noses out of joint, hold a leg of lamb over the garbage pail, throw out flowers and complain about dirty sheets, but when it comes time for the world to take a peek at us - we present a united front.

Last New Years when I was in New York with my family, my cousin made some stuffed mushrooms - Aunt Fay's recipe. My daughter - who is adept at picking mushrooms out of appetizers, soups, salads, etc. had ten!



They're not gorgeous and they're really basic - simple - but most importantly they're really, really tasty.

I asked my cousin for the recipe - and I got the typical answer: onions, breadcrumbs, olive oil, mushrooms - do it to taste. And mince the onion really fine (mine are never as fine as Aunt Fay's) - you can see some gawky strips sticking up this way and that - they are my errant, dishevelled mushrooms - but they always get eaten. The lamb may hover close to a garbage can. The mushrooms never do.

So without further ado: a typical Italian recipe:

Wipe some button mushrooms with a paper towel. Take out the stems. Chop "some" of them and put in a bowl. Add "some" bread crumbs. Add "some" minced onion - chopped very, very, very, very, fine. Ignore my picture and chop them finer. Add "some" oil - just moisten. Stuff the mushrooms. Bake in 350-400 F until they are cooked. (You'll know when they're cooked. You have to - because that's all the directions I ever had.) And you know what - you do know.

I've done sausage stuffed mushrooms. Sometimes I add cheese, garlic, Italian parsley. I change at whim. But there are times when you just want the vegetable, some bread and some oil - the simple stuff. And people gravitate to it. I'll make them for my family on a snowy Sunday - just because. Or I'll turn out a whole tray at a family gathering. I've never had to throw one out. Simple always works.

April is the Cruelest Month

April Fool's?

No, I am afraid this is the view White Bear Lake woke up to this morning. It would be pretty - if it was the Winter Holiday Season. But there are no carols dreaming of a White Easter. I decided the snowy-sleety-in-your-face-white-stuff was not conducive to planting (how bright I am) but as an enforced indoor day, I should be able to get a lot of writing and cooking done.

The writing came in fits and starts. Pippin is still teething. But I did manage a credible version of The Bread, the Necklace and the Dove. Mary Ann Esposito has a lovely story of why Dove Bread is made every Easter in Italy. It is in her Ciao Italia cookbook - a cookbook I have mauled with use. I took some of that story and combined it with Lynne Rossetto Kasper's story of the fury that ensued when the Academy of Italian Cooking in Bologna announced an "official" Ragu recipe that did not include nutmeg! Newspaper editorials carried denouncements and all over Bologna, people sat in piazzas, cafes and probably bars - hotly debating the "official" recipe. She talks about it in The Splendid Table and I quickly tuned into the passion about food. In the USA, it is genuinely thought that one must avoid talk about religion and politics if you want gentle diner conversation. (We ignore those rules.) But it seems in Italy, one must be careful about talking of food! But how can you not speak of food at the dinner table?

I am now finding inspiration for my plays from cookbooks! I wonder if that means I can deduct their purchase from my taxes? So, yesterday was spent removing Pippin's teeth from my computer, sighing at the snow, cooking "sausage braised in wine with penne" and finishing The Bread, the Bracelet and the Dove. The play is geared to middle-school performers. It was once part of Ciao Cinderella ( re-telling of the Italian Cinderella -La Cenerentola - based on Rossini's opera.) As I changed, added, adapted, deleted, I had a zippingly-sweet memory of the eleven-

year old actor who played the emotional baker - Dario. He nailed it. Perfectly.

"(TANEO moves to the BAKER. SIGNOR DARIO meets him part way and is literally weeping over the bread.)

TANEO
Why, Signor Dario! Why do you weep? Did something happen to the bread?

DARIO
Oh! The bread, Taneo! The bread!

TANEO
Did it fall down?

DARIO
It rose! And it rose again! It was as high as the two towers of Bologna! Never has a bread risen to such greatness in my oven! It is a work of art! Behold!

(DARIO uncovers the bread. It is indeed “magnifico!”)

DARIO (cont’d)
It should be painted gold and put in a Museum for all to see. Such bread!

TANEO
Delizioso!

DARIO
Take it to the Academy of Cooking! All of Bologna should know of such bread!

TANEO
It will be on Signora Gisella’s table tonight. There will be nothing left but crumbs.

DARIO
I know.

TANEO
My Mistress will pay you on Monday.

DARIO
No! No payment! It was an honor to bake this bread. It is my present to her.

TANEO
Grazie, Signor.

DARIO
Now. I must prepare for the “other one.” For Serafina and her lopsided creations. It is not a pretty sight. Her bread – is not good enough for the pigeons. Scusi."

Happily, in-between writing and saving the computer from sharp-kitten-teeth, I was also able to cook at the same time. The recipe is from Lynne Rossetto Kasper's The Splendid Table. See? I also cook from my cookbooks.

WINE BRAISED SAUSAGE WITH PENNE (Ms. Rossetto-Kasper used homemade Gramigna)

1 to 1-1/2 lbs mild Italian sausage (preferably without fennel) sliced into 1/2 inch rounds (here we go: I used bulk sausage so it was crumbled)

2 T extra-virgin olive oil

1 medium onion, minced

6 T Italian parsley, minced

3T minced carrot (I used more)

1 large garlic clove, minced (I used 3)

3 large sage leaves (I used 6)

Generous pinch ground cloves

1 T imported Italian tomato paste (I used 2 and it was not imported - I don't think!)

1 cup dry white wine (sounds right!)

1 pound vine-ripened tomatoes peeled and chopped or 14-16 oz can of tomatoes with their juices (You see the photo above. There are no vine-ripened tomatoes - I used canned)

16 oz Pasta - any tubular would do.

1 to 1-1/2 cups freshly grated Parmiggiano-Reggiano cheese

For the pasta - you know the drill. Cook according to package instructions or what you will.

SAUCE

In a large, heavy skillet slowly saute the sausage over medium-medium low heat for about 15 minutes. (Until the fat is released and the pieces are browned.) Turn the pieces often. When browned, remove sausage to another plate. Pour out all but 1 T of the drippings. Add the olive oil to the skillet over medium heat. Stir in the onion, parsley and carrot. Cook ten minutes (till golden) - taking care not to burn crusty brown bits at bottom of pot - you want them in your sauce.

Return the sausage and add the garlic and sage and cook about 2 minutes. Add the cloves, tomato paste and half the wine. Bring to a gentle bubble, scraping up the brown bits you didn't burn from the bottom of the pan. Cook about 8 minutes - until all the wine is evaporated. Add the remaining wine and simmer very, very gently until the sauce has a rich, deep aroma - about ten minutes.

The sauce can keep for awhile. When you are ready to serve the pasta, bring the sauce back to a gentle simmer and stir in the tomatoes. Let it bubble about five minutes - until thickened. Toss the sauce with the pasta and about 1/3 of the cheese. Serve.

I did not add the cheese - I always let each individual do their own. But I had plenty on hand and it was served hot so everyone's desired amount of cheese melted blissfully into the pasta. Just the way I wish the snow would melt happily into the ground. Serves 6-8 as a main course. (6 in my home.) Chin-chin.