Once when wishing was having ...

"There once was a time when wishing was having...."


And so begins a Brothers Grimm tale. And so begins my play In the Village of the Brothers Grimm. A recipe is like that line. An ingredient can invoke a wish "when wishing was having" and you vow to have it. And with cooking - as with enchantment - it is all so possible.
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"There once was a time –
Of enchantment and charms –
Of heroes, fair maidens, and sillies who dwelled –
In a land faraway –
In the seasons we call – Once upon a time."

Some strawberries with a dollop of ricotta....

Drizzled with orange blossom honey - and I am back - in once upon a time. In Italy maybe. In Grandma's kitchen in the 1940's - before my time. But not. For all times become "once upon a time."

Dreamy mascarpone cheese. Whipped with two tablespoons of powdered sugar and one teaspoon of vanilla and I have soft pillows for fairies.

The peasant in me emerges as I press the sweetened mascarpone into chocolate dessert shells - prepared by my grocer. My magic wand was out of commission.

Perhaps these are the sweet cakes Simpleton's mother prepared for her children in the Golden Goose.

Or perhaps the Beast left some of these at Beauty's table. Sweet nothings. Try it - everyone needs a sweet nothing in their life.
8 oz mascarpone
2 tbl powdered sugar
1 tsp vanilla
Mix. Press into chocolate dessert shells. Top with berries - your favorite or mix and match. Berry season is here. For one evening you will live happily ever after.
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Grimms ends their tales with the story of The Golden Key. And so I ended my play.
In a snowy wood, a young boy is gathering wood. He is shivering from cold and decides to make a fire. He clears the snow for the woods and finds - a golden key. He thinks - if there is a key, there is a chest. And what wonders could be in the chest! And ... he finds the chest. And ... lo and behold the key fits. He turns the key. He opens the chest....

"We must wait as he lifts the lid up – We must wait as he discovers what untold treasures lay in the chest. We must wait."

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For there will always be more. And so it is with tales. And so it is with sweet nothings, food and recipes. If we are lucky - there will always be more. Just - be careful what you wish for.

The Awful-No-Good-Horrible-Terrible-Trainwreck Ravioli

I started my day by crushing fennel seeds with a little salt. That went exceedingly well. Sometimes accomplishing the most minuscule of tasks gives me an out-of-proportion view of my abilities. These fennel seeds were part of a gift package from Sausage Debauchery. As I breathed in their heady aroma, I could do no wrong. I was-Italiana-cook from the mountains of Italy. I was one with the fennel.

This would be a finishing touch for my non-existent ravioli. I started backwards. My first mistake.

The ravioli filling was delicious - who needed the noodles? I swiped a small ramekin and had a few tablespoons on the side.

Herbed Goat-Cheese Mascarpone Ravioli Filling with a nod to Mario Batali

8 oz creamy, plain goat cheese

8 oz mascarpone

3 tbl chopped rosemary

4 tbl chopped thyme

3 tbl chopped sage

4 tbl chopped Italian parsley

1 tbl freshly ground nutmeg

Whip your goat cheese and mascarpone together till light and fluffy. Add your herbs and nutmeg and combine all until there are herbs in every spoonful. Salt and pepper to taste (I didn't. I was happy with herbs.) I remained on top of the mountain. Grandma would be proud. Her genes glowed.

I finally was able to break open the special "00" flour from Sausage Debauchery. I couldn't wait to sink my hands into some dough. I was in a pounding mood. But I had two laptops sitting on the kitchen table, 8 books, five days of mail, a newspaper, and English muffin and at least 45 pens, so I turned to the mixer.

Who truly did a good job.

Pasta Dough - for 80 raviolis (yes, 80. I need to rethink my life.)

4 cups 00 flour

additional flour for dusting (I used all-purpose)

4 eggs

4 tbl olive oil

a few grinds of salt

(If this sounds suspiciously like Laura Schenone's recipe that is because it is. It is also my mother's, although she says basically, you add flour and eggs until it feel like "this." My mother never really knew what "this" was and so has had a hard time handing me Grandma's wisdom as to ravioli. She didn't get the ravioli gene. Alas and alack, it appears mine is also dormant)

But I did get it all elasticky. I let it rest for an hour, actually cleared the kitchen table and set up my hand-crank pasta machine. (I am not Ms. Schenone - yet. I like the hand-crank machine.) My real challenge was keeping the dough free of animal fur. The fur flies off my dog when she breathes and the cat thinks he is the centerpiece of any table where the action is.

I cut 80 one-inch squares. And put a whopping tablespoon of filling in each. Methinks a wee bit too much.

I folded them into an envelope. It seemed like a good idea at the time. It wasn't. The dough was triple-thick on one side.... and super thin on the other. You may seem where I was going with this.

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I dusted wax paper with flour. Put the wax paper on a baking sheet. Laid the raviolis on it. And put on another dusted sheet and laid new raviolis on top of it and another and ....as I was doing that, I actually thought, "This is probably not a good idea. I bet they will be too heavy and stick to each other."

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Truer words were never spoken.

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On Easter Sunday, I peeled the raviolis from the top (undusted - I know, I know) leaving lots of little tears - in the noodles - on my eyelids. I then put them into gently simmering water so as not to disturb these little guys any more than was necessary.

And the filling leaked into the pasta water. I must say the pasta water was scrumptious - truly a savory, herb mixture. Which was good as I was finishing the raviolis with a Mario Batali method of dusting with the crushed fennel seeds (remember the fennel?), fennel fronds, dried orange peel (dried in the oven for 20 minutes) and - pasta water! Delicious, scrumptious, savory, herby-cheesey pasta water! I would cover my empty ravioli noodles (that now looked like wontons) with herbed-goat cheese pasta water.
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I really covered up those noodles. I was not in theatre for nothing. I know how to repaint, re-costume and cover, cover, cover when there are mistakes.

And so I did. And that was Easter dinner.

Italian Easter Wheat Pie

I'm eating this now. Before Easter. Because I can. I don't mind that I got mad at the dough (oh yes, we had words) and the lattice work is sad. It tastes good. This "Pizza du grane" or Italian Easter Wheat Pie has been made every Easter in my memory. The fact that the original recipe feeds Naples works for me. I freeze the pies, give them away. And savor. We all have our fill because my mother and I only make this once a year.

This Easter is divided into the traditional foods my family has always loved and the non-traditional. This is not a traditional Easter with my family - we are too too raw. So we are making some new foods. We don't want to recreate all. We do need to forge ahead. Tomorrow's herbed-goat cheese ravioli will be new. But nobody could give up this pie.

Once upon a time, we could find pastiera in cans. We would lug them home from New York City. In recent years, the cans have dwindled and we have made our own pastiera. This year I made it from wheat berries. Next year, I will make it from farro (a wee bit softer and no need to soak the wheat over night). The wheat is the essence of the pie - it's spring, it's nourishment, new life, new promise.

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When you are done cooking the wheat, it will be your pastiera and look like this.

Pastiera: 1 cup wheat berries; 2 cups milk, 1/4 cup cream (can omit) 1/2 cup sugar

Soak wheat berries over night to soften. Change water and boil them for 60-90 minutes - till a bit chewy but not at all crunchy. Drain.

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Combine milk, cream and sugar. Stir till sugar dissolves. Bring to a boil and gently boil wheat berries for one hour. Drain, cool and put in an airtight container in the refrigerator till ready to use. (Can prepare 3 days ahead). The pastiera also freezes well for six months.

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The list of ingredients is long - but it is so simple. Just mix well after each addition. This creamy, rich pie is Easter and spring on a plate. The goodness of cow's milk, the earthiness of sheep's ricotta (I used cow's ricotta), the sweetness of sugar, the spring promise of citron and citrus zest and my mother's addition of chocolate and sprinkles. Ciao Chow Linda has the legend of the pie on her blog. Find it here. You will understand the deep connection Italian families to this pie. Each region (and probably family) has their own recipe. Mine is below.

Italian Easter Wheat Pie Ingredients - makes two deep dish 9-inch pies - with enough left over to make your own personal one - I highly recommend making your own personal one!

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4 servings of pasta frolla (pie dough) - your favorite or store-bought
1 cup pastiera
2-1/2 cups ricotta cheese (whole-milk)
1/2-3/4 cup granulated sugar (go with 1/2 cup if you do not want a sweet custard; more if you do)
3 eggs
1 cup milk
1-1/4 Tbl cornstarch
1/8 lb. citron (my family omits this; my mother hates citron - what can I say? We're all opinionated!)
1/4 cup heavy cream
1 Tbl orange blossom water
zest of one orange
zest of one lemon
1/2 cup chocolate chips (my family's addition)
colored sprinkles (my family's addition)

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Italian Easter Wheat Pie Preparation
The trick to making this cheese-custard is to combine well after each addition. The preparation is very easy.

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Preheat oven to 350 degrees F.
Line two 9-inch deep dish pie plates with pie dough. Scatter 1/4 cup of chocolate chips in each.
Beat your ricotta till smooth.
Add your pastiera and sugar and beat.
Add your eggs one at a time and beat after each addition.
Combine 1/2 your milk with the cornstarch. Stir to dissolve. Add the milk with cornstarch, the rest of the milk and cream. Beat well.
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Add citron (if using, I do not). Add your orange blossom water and zests and combine.
Pour into prepared pie pans. Cut remaining pipe dough into 1-3 inch wide by 10 inch strips and lattice the top if you wish. (Can leave plain). Cover the top with colored sprinkles.
Bake for one hour. Turn oven off and leave in oven for 10-15 minutes. Cool. Wrap in plastic and refrigerate until ready to serve. Can serve at room temperature or cold. Will keep up to five days refrigerated or freeze for up to six months.
While pastiera is hard to find, the grains are not. Both wheat berries and farro (from Bob's Red Mill) can be found in the baking aisles of most grocers these days.
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Fill the sweet-cheese-custard mixture to the top.

Lattice it as best you can.

After turning off the oven, let it cool for 10-15 minutes inside the oven before removing it.

When cooled, wrap in plastic and refrigerate. Serve cold or at room temperature. (I prefer room temperature).

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I want to thank you all for so many kind words. It was so comforting to read daily. Appreciated. And warmed me. We still all laugh. And we cry. And practice gratitude. As my life returns to a routine, I shall be visiting all of you soon. I miss your inspiration, your nourishment and your gifts. Buona Pasqua and Happy Spring. It's here. In blooms. New life. A new day.

Love

There are a lot of photos of six of us celebrating. The 7th person was always holding the camera.


My father loved a lot of things. Swimming, basketball....

He was a chemist. With two daughters allergic to science.

The Christmas tree had to have tinsel. And only he could put it on properly.

He certainly loved to eat. And Christmas wasn't Christmas without a cannoli.

He danced. At weddings and in our home. After a celebration, we'd roll up the rug and put on some rock 'n roll.

As a boy, his Uncle Billy taught him to fish at a point in Brooklyn, NYC. Over the years, fishing was relaxation. And if dinner was caught, so much the better.

He was beautiful.

When he was younger, his father left. Took the car, the savings and just left. My father, his sister Ruth and brother Richard braved the world together. It was the three of them against the world as my grandmother struggled to care and provide for her children.

Their love and affection for each other carried them through life.

This June would have been their 59th anniversary.

"You will carry him in your hearts always and find him in unexpected ways," wrote my close friend. "Those who love deeply, grieve deeply," wrote a wonderful blogger.

There are so many photos of my parents dancing... I know how wonderful that is. It's a gift,

The biggest hug in the world on my sister's wedding day.

The biggest smile in the world on mine.

Matthew wanted this photo. For his smile. His grandson.

Kirsten wanted this one. His granddaughter.

Not everyone knew his great capacity for silliness. But my sister did!

In the great northwoods for my parent's 50th. We didn't fish but we had an al fresco lunch on Lake Superior.

At 2:30 a.m. Palm Sunday, my sister woke up. She went downstairs to check on Dad. She felt the room fill up. She saw Grandma Daisy and Aunt Ruth. She held his hand. From my father's early days he was a caregiver. Way before Grandpa Rudy up and left them, he assumed care of my Uncle Richard. He continued to be a caregiver his entire life. My sister told him how much he was loved. And that everyone he loved would be fine and it was all right to leave. And while holding his hand, he died peacefully. At home. As was promised.

We celebrated everything. Every birthday, anniversary, graduation and the fact that it was Sunday and we were all free for dinner.

We gathered at their Woodbury home. To cry, to nosh, to grieve, to tell stories. Later as my daughter was home alone prepping for a job interview, our yellow lab howled. Our cat meowed. She could not quiet them. She listened. She looked outside. She could not see what set them off. And then she wondered if Grandpa was checking on his granddaughter one last time. Ever the caregiver, checking to see if she was all right. Flights of fancy? Does it matter?

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My father was a private man. I will respect the privacy and never write of what is intensely personal to him. But I will always write of his love.

And he loved. And was loved.