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Housebroken

Page 12

by Laurie Notaro


  PINK SAUCE

  2 parts Nana’s Sunday Gravy or Easy Gravy (see above)

  1 part heavy whipping cream

  Simmer the gravy and cream over medium heat for 10 minutes, stirring occasionally, then over low heat for 10 minutes.

  VODKA SAUCE

  Add 2 ounces of vodka and a sprinkle of crushed red pepper to at least 4 cups of Pink Sauce (see above). Simmer for 10 minutes.

  Nana’s Chicken Cutlets

  * * *

  YIELD: Feeds an Italian family of two adults and three kids. Feeds a congregation of Mormons.

  When I was little, Nana would serve these cutlets with mashed potatoes and spinach and garlic.

  1 pound boneless, skinless chicken breasts

  2 eggs, beaten

  2 cups seasoned Italian breadcrumbs (or plain breadcrumbs seasoned with ¼ teaspoon salt, ⅛ teaspoon pepper, ¼ tablespoon garlic powder, ½ teaspoon parsley, and ½ cup grated Parmesan cheese)

  1 cup canola oil

  1. In order to get a nice cutlet, Nana would put the chicken breasts in between two pieces of wax paper and beat them with a mallet until they became very big and very thin. I try a simpler approach: I trim all fat and weirdness off the chicken, including membranes and other things that will make me hurl if I think about them for three seconds or longer. (People who serve fatty chicken should be sentenced to a lengthy jail term or at least community service. No one ever wants to bite into a mouthful of chicken fat. NO ONE.) Then I get my best sharpened knife, and because I am right-handed, I place my left hand on top of the chicken breast, palm down, and then slice a thin layer off the top with the knife in my right hand. I can usually get three thin slices out of each breast, sometimes four.

  2. Next, place your beaten eggs in a shallow bowl and your breadcrumbs in another shallow bowl. Now dip your beautiful, clean, weirdness-free chicken breast slice into the eggs and then into the breadcrumbs, coating both sides. Repeat these steps for all the pieces of chicken and set aside.

  3. Add the oil to a large skillet and heat over medium-high heat. Cook the chicken slices until golden on both sides, about 7 to 8 minutes per side. Place the cutlets on a rack or a plate lined with paper towels to drain the excess oil.

  VARIATION: CHICKEN PARMESAN

  Using Nana’s Sunday Gravy (this page) or Easy Gravy (this page) as a base, spread a thin layer of the gravy over the bottom of a medium-sized baking pan. Add the chicken cutlets, then more gravy on each of the cutlets. Top with shredded mozzarella and sprinkle with some Parmesan. Bake in a 350°F oven for 20 minutes until the cheese is bubbly and just starting to brown.

  Nana’s Eggplant Parmesan

  * * *

  YIELD: Feeds a family of five from Brooklyn, plus one set of in-laws if you make a side of spaghetti. Otherwise, feeds eight.

  This is not a hard dish, but it’s a time-consuming one, and as tempting as it is, do not wear new clothes when cooking this. It’s messy and oily, but it’s delicious and well worth the effort.

  Brag on Facebook that you’re making Nana’s Eggplant Parm. Know that you will become famous for this meal by the evening. Legendary, even. When you pass the frozen eggplant parm on your next trip to Costco, you will point at it and laugh. Feel free to mock. I do.

  2 medium eggplants (I prefer longer and thinner eggplants because the seeds are less prevalent)

  3 eggs, beaten

  3 cups all-purpose flour, seasoned with ½ teaspoon garlic powder, ¼ teaspoon salt, ⅛ teaspoon pepper, and ½ teaspoon parsley

  1 cup canola oil

  Nana’s Sunday Gravy (this page) or Easy Gravy (this page), at least 3 cups

  1 cup grated Parmesan cheese

  16 ounces fresh whole-milk mozzarella, shredded

  1. Begin by slicing the top off the eggplant and peeling it. (Don’t argue. Peel it. By the time you are done peeling it, parts of it will turn brown. It’s okay. Everything is going to be fine. It’s not going to rot before your eyes like all of Catherine Deneuve’s lovers in The Hunger.) Starting at the end you just sliced off, cut each slice thinly and evenly into ¼-inch-thick rounds. Submerge the slices in a bowl of lightly salted lukewarm water. (This draws out the bitterness of the eggplant.) The water will turn brown after several minutes, so when your show is over, retrieve the eggplant, dump the water, and put the slices in a colander.

  2. Place the beaten eggs in a shallow bowl and the seasoned flour in another shallow bowl. I like to use an old pie plate for this, so I can shake the eggplant around, and even coat several slices at a time.

  3. Heat the oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. One by one, dip the eggplant slices in the egg and then in the flour. When both sides are floured, fry, baby, fry, 1 to 2 minutes per side until a nice golden color.

  4. By the end, yes, your fingers and the fork you use to turn over the eggplant in the pan will be utterly disgusting, but you gotta make a mess before you make something beautiful. Look at what’s left over after a baby is born (no, I don’t have a recipe for that) or the floor of an artist’s studio. You are creating here; you are making one of the world’s ten best meals in the history of mankind. Revel in it.

  5. Place the fried eggplant on a rack or on a plate lined with paper towels and allow to drain. Preheat the oven to 375°F.

  6. To assemble the eggplant parm, spread a thick layer of gravy on the bottom of a 9 x 13-inch baking dish. Cover with slices of fried eggplant. Then add another layer of gravy, then a layer of grated Parmesan cheese, then a layer of mozzarella. (May we have a word about mozzarella, please? First, it’s not called “motts-a-rell-ah.” It’s pronounced “mootz-a-dell-eh,” which is much funner and much less Midwest-sounding than “motts-a-rell-ah.” Mootzadelleh. Mootzadelleh. Mootzadelleh. Awesome.)

  7. So we’re going to layer thin slices of mootzadelleh over the Parmesan cheese and gravy, and it doesn’t need to be solid. A little here, a little there. It will spread. On your last layer—there will be three—spread the gravy a little more liberally around the top, and then add a heartier amount of cheese, both parm and mootzadelleh.

  8. Bake for 15 minutes covered with tinfoil, and then remove the foil and bake for an additional 25 minutes uncovered, until the cheese is bubbly and slightly browned on top.

  9. Slice. Serve. Amaze.

  Half Nana’s, Half Laurie’s Lasagna

  * * *

  YIELD: Feeds an immediate family of five Italians, or seven to eight of regular folk.

  This is the creamiest, most delicate lasagna in the world. A go-to for funerals. I used to be a snob about ready-to-bake lasagna noodles and only used fresh sheets of it, which I could usually find in the fresh pasta section of a grocery store. Then one day they stopped carrying it at my Safeway and I was at a loss until I degraded myself enough to buy the no-boil pasta sheets on the dry macaroni aisle. Honestly, I actually liked them better—they held a nice consistency that wasn’t soggy and made the layering much easier. I released my pasta snobbishness and apologized to the box of noodles.

  3 tablespoons butter

  4 cloves garlic, crushed with a garlic press or minced

  3 tablespoons all-purpose flour

  1½ cups milk

  ¾ teaspoon salt and ⅛ teaspoon pepper (add more to taste)

  32 ounces whole-milk ricotta

  ¼ cup grated Parmesan cheese

  16 ounces fresh whole-milk mozzarella, diced into ½-inch cubes

  Nana’s Sunday Gravy (this page) or Easy Gravy (this page), at least 3 cups

  16 ounces traditional lasagna noodles (cooked according to package instructions), or fresh noodles, or no-boil, ready-to-bake noodles

  1. Preheat the oven to 350°F.

  2. First we’re going to make a basic roux, which is a simple white cream sauce. In a large saucepan melt the butter over medium heat and add half the garlic and cook for 1 minute. Add the flour and stir until it makes a paste. Add the milk. Stir well and continue stirring until thick. Add ¼ teaspoon of the salt and ⅛ teaspoon pepper. It w
ill thicken in several minutes; keep stirring constantly. When a thickened consistency is reached, remove from the heat.

  3. In a large bowl, mix your ricotta, the remaining garlic, the remaining ½ teaspoon salt, pepper to taste, and the Parmesan cheese. Add the mozzarella, reserving one third for the top of the lasagna.

  4. Next, spread a thin layer of gravy on the bottom of a 9 x 13-inch baking dish. Place a layer of the lasagna noodles on top. Drop tablespoons of the ricotta mixture in equal amounts over the first layer. These will even out with the heat of the oven. Then dot gravy over the cheese mixture, and drizzle the roux over the gravy. Build another layer with noodles, cheese, gravy, and roux, and another. On the last layer, after spreading the roux, sprinkle the remaining mozzarella over the top, and sprinkle with Parmesan cheese if you like.

  5. Bake, covered with tinfoil, for 40 minutes. Remove the foil and continue to bake for another 20 minutes, until the top begins to brown a little bit. Let the dish sit for 5 minutes before cutting and serving.

  Nana’s Pizza and Pizza Sauce

  * * *

  YIELD: Makes one pie. This is an afternoon snack for three Italian kids and their Pop Pop.

  When we were in elementary school, my grandparents would take us to their house after school and we would stay there until my mother got home from work. On very lucky days, which were almost every other day, Nana would have pizza waiting for us when Pop Pop pulled up with us in the car. It was a Roman-style square pizza, drizzled with olive oil, with a light, crisp crust. It was amazing, and not only is it completely simple to make, the dough rises in one to two hours, and can also be refrigerated for use later in the week. This dough is the basis for Nana’s Sausage Bread (this page), Cold Cut Bread (this page), and calzone and zeppole.

  NANA’S PIZZA SAUCE

  2 tablespoons olive oil

  1 garlic clove, minced

  One 32-ounce can crushed tomatoes

  ½ teaspoon salt

  Place the oil in a small saucepan and heat over medium heat. Add the garlic and cook for 1 to 2 minutes until golden. Add the crushed tomatoes and salt, and cook over medium-high heat for 10 minutes, stirring occasionally. Reduce to simmer for 15 to 20 minutes. (You will have enough sauce for two pizzas. You can freeze unused sauce and save until your next pizza night.)

  NANA’S PIZZA DOUGH

  2½ teaspoons dry yeast

  1 cup lukewarm water

  1 teaspoon sugar

  2¾ cups all-purpose flour

  1 teaspoon salt

  2 tablespoons olive oil

  Combine the yeast, water, and sugar in a small bowl and mix briefly. Let the mixture sit for 10 minutes. Pour the mixture into the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with a dough hook. Add all the remaining ingredients. Mix on medium speed for 3 minutes. Cover with plastic wrap and place in a warm area. Let the dough rise for 1 to 2 hours until doubled in size.

  TO MAKE NANA’S PIZZA

  1 recipe Nana’s Pizza Dough

  2 cups Nana’s Pizza Sauce

  ¼ cup grated Parmesan cheese

  3 ounces provolone cheese, sliced

  8 ounces fresh whole-milk mozzarella, thinly sliced or shredded

  1. Preheat the oven to 400°F. Grease a cookie sheet or jelly roll pan with a light smear of olive oil.

  2. Spread the dough out with your hands to fit the cookie sheet, or roll the dough out in the pan if using a jelly roll pan. Make sure the dough stretches into the corners of the sheet or pan. Let the dough sit for 10 minutes. Spread the sauce over the dough and sprinkle with Parmesan. Tear the provolone into bite-sized pieces and place evenly over the sauce. Top with the mozzarella. Bake for 20 to 25 minutes, until the top is bubbly and golden brown. Slice into squares and serve.

  Nana’s Sausage Bread

  * * *

  YIELD: About 20 slices

  When we first moved to Arizona, Nana would always bring her sausage bread to potlucks as we met our new neighbors. Within a matter of weeks, offshoots and pale imitations of her sausage bread began to pop up at these events, and my sisters and I would giggle. They were never as good as Nana’s. Not even close. One of the first recipes Nana taught me to make was this bread. The first one I made without her assistance was a wreck. It leaked all over the place and wouldn’t stay closed. Sausage bread is comparable to stromboli, but I’ve never had any version that could come close to comparing to hers, despite the copycats. The dough for this bread is Nana’s Pizza Dough. Again, it’s a quick-rise bread that is simple to prepare, easy to roll out, and hard to mess up.

  1 recipe Nana’s Pizza Dough (this page; note that sausage bread uses just half the dough from this recipe, but do not halve the recipe; instead, make an extra bread or freeze the extra dough)

  1 egg, beaten

  ½ cup grated Parmesan cheese

  2 sweet Italian sausage links

  1. Preheat the oven to 400°F. Grease a cookie sheet or jelly roll pan with olive oil.

  2. Spread the dough out with your hands to fit the cookie sheet, or roll the dough out in the pan if using a jelly roll pan. Make sure the dough stretches into the corners of the sheet or pan. The dough will be thin. Spread the beaten egg over the entire surface, then sprinkle the Parmesan cheese equally over it as well. Squeeze the sausage from its casing and pinch off bits about ½-inch big. Dot them over the surface until covered. Beginning at one of the long sides of the dough, on the 17-inch side, flip the edge over onto itself by about an inch. Press lightly for a good stick. Then, gently and tightly, continue to roll the dough over on itself until you have reached the other side of the pan and the dough forms a long, smooth tube. Pick it up, place it in the center of the pan, and tuck the ends in. Brush the top of the bread with melted butter, oil, or additional beaten egg. The egg spread on the surface of the rolled-out dough should provide a nice seal, but you can press firmly along the seam to double-check. Bake for 25 to 30 minutes, until golden on the top and bottom. Slice into 1-inch increments.

  VARIATION: COLD CUT BREAD

  1. This recipe is simply a different version of Nana’s Sausage Bread (this page). The dough and preparation are the same, as is the type of pan to use. The beaten egg is spread over the dough, then the cheese is sprinkled on top. Cover the surface with 9 slices of ham, 12 slices of salami, and 9 slices of provolone. The bread is rolled in the same manner, tightly, from long end to long end, and set in the center of the pan with the ends tucked under. Preheat the oven to 400°F. Bake for 25 to 30 minutes, until golden on the bottom and top. Slice into 1-inch increments.

  2. The variations of this bread can include anything; this past Thanksgiving I used prosciutto, capocollo, and fontina; vegetarian options can include sun-dried tomatoes, olives, and artichoke hearts. Bring this to a party or potluck or serve it at dinner, and the next time you arrive at an event, don’t be surprised if there’s a copycat bread already placed on the table.

  There was no way the dress was going to fit me.

  Ever.

  And there’s rarely anything as sad as finding the perfect dress, in the perfect style, in the perfect fabric, and not being able to get the sleeves on above your elbows. It’s almost exactly the same as suddenly finding your soulmate one unexpected day, only to find out he married someone else yesterday.

  I just don’t get it. If someone would actually step forward and make the same awesome dresses for chunkier girls as they do for skinnier girls, they’d make a fortune. Just because I weigh more than the average college freshman doesn’t mean I don’t want to wear nice things. I still have to get dressed every day. I still want to wear things I like. I still like fabrics other than polyester or knits with strawberry prints on them.

  I was still complaining about this to my husband seven hours later during dinner.

  “…and it’s like he said, ‘Whoa. I just got married yesterday,’ you know?” I whined.

  My husband laughed. “I thought your soulmate already got married,” he said.

  “He did?” I raised my eyebrows. “When
? I didn’t see that on TMZ! He married the baby mama, didn’t he? Goddamnit.”

  “You know, maybe you should take a sewing class,” he said. “This way you could pick out the style, the fabric, and you could make it fit you perfectly. You could have any dress you can imagine.”

  “I can barely make a bed the right way,” I said, shaking my head. “I don’t think I could make a dress.”

  “I bet you could,” he replied. “You should take a class just to see. If it doesn’t work out, then you haven’t lost anything. But if you could really make a dress—your problems are solved. Forever.”

  I realized that he was right. He had actually bought me a sewing machine for our first anniversary, one of the best presents I ever got. I just really didn’t know how to use it. So why shouldn’t I take a class? After all, when I wanted to learn how to metalsmith, I took a class at a community center and found out it was something I loved, and I was dealing with oxygen-fueled torches there that could cremate an entire class of middle-aged women with one wrong point of the tip.

  Amazingly, no one died—no one even needed one single skin graft—although the smell of burning hair wafted about frequently. So why be afraid of sewing? The only person I could really hurt was myself, and even then, sewing your fingers into a hand mitt is nothing that urgent care hasn’t seen a million times.

  So I found a beginners’ class at the same place I took metalsmithing, and I signed up. In two weeks, I was going to learn how to sew.

 

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