Friday Book Whimsy: The Supreme Macaroni Company

I have always enjoyed the romantic novels written by Adriana Trigiani. She has a couple of series and some novels that stand alone. One of the series takes place in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia – Big Stone Gap. Many of her novels involve characters drawn from the author’s own Italian background. She even wrote a nonfiction book called Don’t Sing at the Table: Life Lessons from My Grandmothers. That book is part memoir/part cook book. I liked it very much.

The Supreme Macaroni Company is the third of a trilogy (or at least a trilogy to date; don’t know if she has plans on more in the series). Very Valentine; Brava, Valentine; and The Supreme Macaroni Company all take us through the adult life of Valentine Roncolli, daughter number three of a wild, unpredictable Italian family in New York/New Jersey, whose ancestors were shoemakers. Through the series, Valentine tries to continue shoemaking, following in the footsteps (no pun intended) of her beloved grandfather and grandmother. She runs into troubles along the way, and also runs through a series of boyfriends. I have enjoyed every book…..

….until this one. I won’t say I disliked The Supreme Macaroni Company. In fact, in many ways I enjoyed it very much. But I found it so inferior to Trigiani’s other novels that it almost seemed like her heart wasn’t in it.

I have read many good books lately, so perhaps I’m spoiled. What struck me most (and not in a particularly good way) was the unrealistic dialogue. Don’t get me wrong. The interactions between Valentine and her kooky but loveable (and loving) family were very funny. I frequently laughed at the exchanges. However, they were totally false. No one talks the way they talked, like one stand-up comedy act to another. Funny, but not realistic.I found it very distracting.

I also found myself annoyed with Valentine, whom I have LOVED throughout the series. Now married to her beloved Gianlucca, her self-centeredness was distracting and mean. I understand that Trigiani was trying to help us see the difficulties faced by independent women who find themselves in marriage and are afraid they will lose themselves instead. Perhaps it was just the contrast to the totally self-giving Gianlucca that was so annoying. Had this been my introduction to Valentine, I would have assumed I was supposed to dislike her.

I might think the family dynamics were phony except that I have been around Italian/American families and I believe Trigiani has this right. Lots of yelling, lots of food, lots of emotion.

The ending, which I won’t give away (though the author broadcasts so many clues along the way that you would have to be pretty stupid to miss them) was disappointing. I can’t help but think there must be another novel planned in the future so that the story can be completed.

And if so, I hope I like it better than The Supreme Macaroni Company.

Please give Trigiani's books a chance if you haven't already done so. Just don't start with this one.

Easin' into Hiking Season

Last year Bec and I did a bit of hiking during the Arizona spring, meaning basically March. Since the spring is short, we didn’t hike as much as we would have liked. We vowed this year we would start earlier – in January and February – and thus be able to do more hiking. We would wear a jacket if it was chilly, we determined. March is perfect hiking weather, but in April, though it’s still not blistering hot, the critters are awakening. Remember the rattlesnake episode?

As it turns out, our winter here this year has been very mild. No jackets necessary unless you’re going to hike sometime around 6 o’clock in the morning. Then it is still in the low 40s. But after 9 or 10, it is in the upper 60s or lower 70s. Perfect for hiking. And since the nights are still chilly, I don’t think the rattlers are awake yet. Hope not.

Anyhoo, we did our first hike yesterday morning. The area we hiked was very near the area of our rattlesnake encounter. Yesterday, instead of flip flops, we wore hiking shoes. Weird, huh? No rattlesnakes.

It was a beautiful, somewhat overcast morning. The clouds eventually burned off, leaving us

with much sunshine. There weren’t many people on the trail, though we did run into a couple who, from the sound of them, are Canadian, eh? Bec and I tend to be direction-challenged. We blame it on our mother who wouldn’t allow us to be Girl Scouts as she didn’t have time to take us to meetings. Or at least that was her excuse. Perhaps she actually held a grudge against them because they sell cookies, thereby competing against Gloor’s Bakery. The Canadian couple confirmed that we were on the right path, and we went on our way.

The weather was perfect, we saw some beautiful scenery, and we had deep and thorough discussions about many things as we walked. We always do. The area where we walked is filled with saguaro, and saguaros on the hillside are about my favorite scenic attraction of all things nature.

We came across this funny sight.

It’s my assumption that the cap is an add-on. When the saguaros get their blooms in May, they

sometimes look like they are wearing a hat, but that appears to be a real hat!

Saguaros don’t even begin getting their “arms” until they are 25 years old or older, so a cactus like this must be really old.

It was a perfect day, and a good start to our hiking adventures. Perhaps by next week I can manage something a bit less flat as my vertigo will be verti-gone! Didn’t feel it would be terribly wise to teeter at the edge of a Sonoran mountain yet.

Busy Being Dizzy

Getting old is not for wimps. That’s what they say, and they speak the truth. Our bodies, which have served us so well for all of our formative years, start thinking of ways to betray us as we age.

Easy on the complaining, however, because for the most part I’m as healthy as a horse. But even a horse gets aches and pains sometimes.

So a week ago, in the middle of the night, I rolled over in bed, and suddenly the world started spinning. It continued throughout the night, but only for a few seconds and only when I rolled over. When I awoke and got out of bed, I was fine, so I assumed I had been dreaming. However, as I leaned over to wet my hair in the sink, the spinning resumed, but again, just for a few seconds.

I immediately diagnosed myself with a horrible and incurable disease, though I had no clue what disease it would be. The always calm and sensible Bill suggested that I Google “vertigo when I lean over.” His practicality can be such a relief to me sometimes. And yet so annoying.

Because you can find anything on the Internet, I immediately learned that there is a condition that is fairly common to people as they age (!!!!!!!) called Benign Something Something Vertigo (BPPV for short because the condition actually doesn’t have “something” in its name). It has something to do with crystals in one’s inner ear breaking loose and rolling about, causing vertigo when you turn a certain way. Really?

I spent the past week waiting for the vertigo to cease. That didn’t seem to happen, so Monday morning I called a family physician whose office I had recently spotted, and saw him yesterday morning. He walked into the room looking at my chart, and said, “I understand you are having some vertigo.” I said yes, and explained my symptoms. I cheerfully told him, “But I got on the Internet and have diagnosed my condition.” You can watch their eyes roll.

“Well, what do you suppose you have?” he asked. (That’s a quote.)

“I have BPPV,” I said.

He begrudgingly acknowledged that he agreed with my diagnosis. He did a couple of tests to rule out anything worse and just to show me he actually is smarter than me, gave me a sheet with some exercises that I need to do for the next week, and sent me on my way. Really, what does he care? I’m insured.

But whoever heard of anything like this? Each and every day, our bodies find ways to pay us back for all of the abuse we gave it over the years.

It is my sincere hope that next time I see any of you, I won’t be walking sideways.

In celebration of my learning that I didn't have a deadly illness, I invited my niece Maggie and her family over for fried chicken. Maggie is a week-and-a-half overdue having her baby, and isn't particularly happy about it. I presumed, correctly I think, that cooking wasn't something about which she was terribly enthusiastic. She'd rather concentrate on getting into and out of a chair. And she loves my fried chicken.

When I fry a chicken, it is a given that I serve it with slow-cooked green beans and Swiss macaroni and cheese. I think I have talked about this macaroni and cheese before. My Swiss grandmother made them. My mom made them. Now I make them. They never had a name. We always just called them macaroni, as in "we're having macaroni for dinner tonight." We all knew what that meant as it was the only way we had macaroni. Since I occasionally make traditional mac and cheese, I have taken to calling it Swiss mac and cheese to differentiate.

A few years ago, to my surprise, Food Network Chef Melissa D'Arabian made something she called Macaronade as part of a French meal she was preparing. It was my grandmother's recipe, or at least a variation thereof. In all my years, I had never imagined that it was something with a name. Anyway, here's Melissa D'Arabian's recipe, with my changes below.

Macaronade

Ingredients
2 tablespoons butter, cut into small cubes, plus more for greasing
8 ounces macaroni
Kosher salt
1/2 cup shredded Swiss or gruyere cheese
1/2 cup beef broth
1/4 cup seasoned breadcrumbs
Freshly ground black pepper

Process
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Grease a gratin dish.
Cook the pasta in salted water according to the package's instructions for al dente. Drain and toss with the cheese and beef broth. Place the pasta in the gratin dish, and top with the breadcrumbs, sprinkle with salt and pepper and dot with the butter. Bake 15 minutes.

Nana's Notes: Here's how I do it: Cook the macaroni according to directions. Drain it, and begin layering it in a large bowl with the shredded Swiss cheese (a lot of cheese). I don't use any beef broth. Put a plate over it so the hot pasta can begin to melt the cheese. In the meantime, brown breadcrumbs in 3-4 T butter. Place the breadcrumbs on top of the macaroni/cheese mix. Put it in the microwave for a minute to help the cheese along. Serve. I never think about putting it in the oven, though I'm sure that's delicious. And of course, my grandmother didn't have a microwave. She may have placed them in an oven for a few minutes. They are really delicious if you like Swiss cheese.

Fiddle-dee-dee, Rhett Butler – Tamale is Another Day

I have already mentioned that I am obsessed with tamales. I'm going to have to stop writing about them, however, because I'm running out of clever titles. Let's face it, "tamale" really doesn't sound that much like "tomorrow" so I'm going to have to KNOCK IT OFF.

However, last week, I actually was able to get my hands into the masa and make them myself – with a little help from my friends. Well, quite a lot of help, actually, but then it wouldn’t have been a quote from a Beatles’ song.

Four women, none of whom has a lick of Hispanic blood in her, spent most of a day working on a large batch of tamales – some with meat, some with cheese and roasted corn. I think we did a fine job if I must say so myself. Bill, a beneficiary of the resulting tamales, agrees.

My friend Andrea has made tamales before, and she led the effort. In fact, when I arrived, she had a lot of the work done. She had already prepared the masa and the meat for half the tamales. Well, to be perfectly clear, she wisely left initial masa preparation to those who have a little more time and experience – a local market with a tortilleria. Just the right amount of lard must be added to the masa – and knowing just how much comes with experience. “You can feel when it’s ready.” But she added a bit of the chili flavoring from the meat into the masa that was to be used for the meat tamales to add color and some flavoring. To the masa that would be used for the roasted corn, chili and cheese tamales she added a bit of creamed corn. Yum.

Andrea used beef because that’s what the store recommended. Actually, when she asked the butcher what kind of meat he recommended, he told her, “tamale meat.” Hmmm. Not particularly helpful. After talking to someone who spoke and understood a bit more English, she was led to what actually was labeled tamale meat (so there!), and what turned out to be beef. It worked.

Andrea prepared the meat much as it dictates in the recipe below. She used avocado oil as a wink to the Mexican culture and some ground cloves since she knew they were used in mole and it sounded good to her. It worked. Andrea used pasilla chiles and guajillo chiles.

Andrea, Bec, Sandra, and I took turns spreading the masa on the softened corn husks, filling them with meat, wrapping them much the same way that a mama wraps a baby’s bottom, and tying them up with a piece of corn husk. One tie for the corn, chili, and cheese; two ties for the meat. It helped us keep them straight.

Frankly, some of the tamales’ appearance would have made a Mexican mother weep, but overall they were magnificent. Sandra was the very best at spreading the masa like a pro. Mine were a

bit lumpy. Bec was a tamale filler extraordinaire and Andrea had the tedious job of tying the knots.

Andrea had borrowed a tamale pot – an enormous pot that puts my canning pot to shame, like a bully on the playground. It has a rim near the bottom on which a rack sits. The bottom of the pot is filled with water, and the tamales are placed open side up on the rack above the water and steamed for about two hours until the masa is set.

While we waited for the tamales to steam, we ate lunch. Andrea had made a delicious Mexican soup filled with veggies, and a scrumptious avocado salad loaded with lots of fresh lime. Quesadillas completed our lunch. We talked kids, grandkids, books, cooking, and travel. The others besides myself were all teachers, so we talked a lot about educating our kids. Well, they talked; I listened and missed my grandkids, as usual.

The experience was one I won’t forget. Bill asked me if I would try it on my own. I will definitely try it, but not on my own. As Sandra put it, “I don’t think I know anyone who makes tamales alone. It is definitely a social thing.”

Isn’t it true that so much of cooking and childrearing and homemaking is done with a group of women friends? Really, women should run the world. Individually, we’re powerful; as a group, we are unbeatable.

As were these tamales.

The following recipe is verbatim from The Arizona Republic newspaper. The comments are not Nana’s.

Red Chile-Beef Tamales

Cook's tip: Making tamales is a slow, tedious process. Spread the making of the tamales, the center of Southwestern holiday celebrations since Aztec times, over two days. Make the red-chile beef one day and assemble tamales the next. If you prefer pork, substitute a shoulder roast for beef chuck.

For red-chile beef or pork:
2 pounds beef chuck or pork shoulder roast
Salt and pepper to taste
1 tablespoon vegetable oil
Water
2 onions, peeled and sliced
1 head garlic, cloves separated and peeled
4 ounces dried New Mexico chiles
2 ounces pasilla chiles
2 tablespoons cumin seed
1 tablespoon salt

Season meat with salt and pepper. Heat a large, heavy pot over medium heat. Add oil, then brown meat on all sides. Once browned, add water to cover the roast. Add one slice of onion and 6 cloves of garlic. Cook until meat is tender and falls apart easily, about 2 hours. Remove meat and shred by hand. Reserve the broth.

To prepare the sauce, place New Mexico and pasilla chiles in a large stockpot and cover with water. Add cumin seed and remaining onion slices and garlic cloves. Boil 20 minutes, until the chiles are very soft. Drain mixture (reserving cooking water) and allow to cool. Mash the chile mixture and place in a large mixing bowl. Slowly pour in about 1/4 cup of chile cooking water. Use a blender or food processor to puree the chiles until smooth. Pour pureed chiles through cheesecloth to strain out the seeds and skins. Pour the sauce into a large bowl and add salt. Add the shredded meat and mix thoroughly.

For tamales:
3 dozen corn husks
4 cups masa
1 tablespoon baking powder
2 teaspoons salt
2/3 cup lard
To make three dozen tamales, soften the corn husks by soaking 3 dozen in water. Next, combine masa, available at most grocery stores, with the baking powder, salt and lard. Mix, adding more lard if necessary to form a paste the consistency of peanut butter. Then add half a cup of juices from the cooked meat.

Drain the corn husks and select the largest ones. Place the husks, smooth side up, on a flat surface or in your hand. Use a tablespoon to spread the masa almost all the way to the sides of a husk, and near the top where it will be tied or folded. Leave a portion at the bottom half of the husk uncovered.

Spoon a tablespoon or two of meat in a narrow band across the masa. Leave at least a 1-1/2-inch border on the pointed end of the husk, and a 3/4-inch border along the other sides.
To fold, begin by tucking one edge of the husk, then roll. Then fold the empty bottom half of the husk up against the rest of the roll. Tie tamales with a string of corn husk, or use the masa to "glue" the tamale to prevent it from coming undone.

Place the tamale, flap side down, in a steamer basket or tamale cooker. Fill the bottom of the pan with water. The water level should be below the rack. Stack tamales on top of one another. Steam the tamales for 2 hours or until the masa seems fairly firm inside the husk. Replenish boiling water if necessary.

Tamales are done when the husk peels away easily. Serve immediately, or freeze and then reheat in a steamer pan or microwave.

Makes 36 servings.

Nana’s Notes: Andrea didn’t soak her corn husks; she boiled them until they were soft and pliable. We kept the husks in the hot water as we worked so they wouldn’t dry out and become unworkable. She also said she tried the whole squeezing the pureed chiles through cheesecloth and it was really, really messy. She elected to leave out that step, and the result was just fine.

Orange You Glad You're a Bronco Fan?

I had grand plans to blog about my experience making tamales last week, but that must wait because I’m still on Cloud 9 about the Bronco victory! I have a happy victory hangover and can only think about orange and blue today.

Maggie and Bec came over to watch the game with us and I served my orange and blue food. I made my nephew Christopher’s salsa (See my blog post “Hot Stuff” in October for recipe) and

served it with orange Dorito Nacho Chips and blue tortilla chips. Very festive. Slices of orange pepper and baby carrots offered a healthy choice. Our Blue Margaritas were delicious as well.

Just a quick word about my orange and blue dessert – Blue Velvet Cupcakes with Orange frosting. They were scrumptious, no doubt about it. They are basically the traditional red velvet cake, but you color it blue instead of red. It is difficult to find food coloring these days in the traditional primary colors. Grocery stores only offered pastel colors, and only in gels. I was able to find royal blue, violet, and orange at Hobby Lobby in the cake decorating section, also gels.

Well, anyone who has worked with royal blue food coloring gel knows – as I learned – the blue color is insidious. It was everywhere – on my hands, on my feet (??????) all over the countertops, in my sink, on my cabinets. It seriously looked like I had sprinkled blue food coloring gel like a priest sprinkles the congregation with holy water. I’m sure I will find it for days to come. Orange seemed less messy (or maybe it just blended).

I will have to come up with a dessert alternative for my big Super Bowl party (to which you are all invited).

Except, what if it was those cupcakes that made the Broncos win? Hmmmmmm. I might have to give one up for the team.

Here is the recipe for Blue Velvet Cupcakes, from bakefrostrepeat.com (she credits Sprinkle Bakes and One Particular Kitchen)

Blue Velvet Cupcakes

Ingredients
2 c. sugar
2 sticks butter, room temperature
2 eggs
1 T. cocoa powder
1 T. royal blue gel food coloring
1 small dab violet gel food coloring
2-1/2 c. cake flour
1 t. salt
1 c. buttermilk
1 t. vanilla
½ t. baking soda
1 T. vinegar

Frosting
4 oz. cream cheese, softened
¼ c. butter, softened
1 7-oz. jar marshmallow cream
2 c. powdered sugar
1 t. vanilla

Process
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Prepare cupcake pans with paper liners.

In a mixing bowl, cream the sugar and butter, mix until light and fluffy. Add the eggs one at a time, and mix well after each addition. Mix cocoa and food colorings together to form a paste, and then add to sugar mixture; mix well. Sift together flour and salt. Add flour mixture to the creamed mixture alternately with buttermilk. Blend in vanilla. In a small bowl, combine baking soda and vinegar and add to mixture.

Pour batter into cupcake papers. Bake for 25 – 30 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. Remove from oven and cool completely before frosting.

Frosting: Combine ingredients and spread on cupcakes.

Nana’s Notes: The cupcakes are dense, not fluffy, just as is a red velvet cake. Next time I will make my frosting a darker orange! By the way, the cupcakes turn your tongue blue. It goes away. Insidious. What can I say?

United in Orange

United in orange….that’s the apparent catch phrase encompassing all things Broncos in Colorado these days preceding the AFC Conference Championship game tomorrow.

And while I love being here in Arizona during this really nice winter weather, I am sad that I’m missing all of the Broncomania taking place over our state this week. Thank you Peyton, and all of your cohorts who clearly know what “Omaha Omaha” means. We all speculate. In fact, Peyton gave a very funny interview at which he was asked what Omaha Omaha means. With a completely straight face, he gave a roundabout answer that basically said, “Are you serious? Do you really think I’m going to tell you what it means?” Click the link to see the interview.

For my part, we both have Denver Bronco shirts that we will wear on Sunday, we have been happily displaying our little Bronco garden flag in our front yard, and, if possible, we will find a way to fly our great big Bronco flag on Sunday.

I’ve been trying to think about things I can serve to whomever shows up at our front door to watch the game with us. It must be orange and blue. That’s a given.

Here’s a couple of ideas:
Queso Dip with Blue Corn Tortilla Chips (from CHOW.com)

Ingredients
4 c. grated extra-sharp cheddar cheese
1-1/2 c. grated Monterey Jack cheese
1 T. cornstarch
¼ c. milk
1 c. minced onion
1 4-oz. can diced green chiles

Process
Place cheeses in a large bowl, sprinkle with cornstarch, and toss to coat.Transfer cheese mixture to a large saucepan and add milk. Set over low heat and cook, stirring occasionally, until mixture is smooth and melted, about 10-15 minutes.

Stir in onion and chilies with reserved juices until well combined. Serve with blue corn tortilla chips and various raw veggies.

Grilled Chicken Wings (from Allrecipes.com)

Ingredients
2-1/2 lbs. chicken wings
Salt and pepper
2/3 c. Frank’s Hot Pepper Sauce
1/3 c. melted butter
Pinch of cayenne pepper

Process
Season chicken wings. Grill the chicken wings over medium heat for about 10 minutes on each side. In the meantime, melt the butter and mix with hot sauce and cayenne pepper. Dip wings in the sauce and serve with celery and blue cheese dip.

Blue Margarita (from About.com)

Ingredients
1-1/2 oz. tequila
1 oz. blue curacao
1 oz. fresh lime juice
Orange slice for garnish
Salt for rimming

Process
Pour all ingredients in a shaker with ice. Shake and pour into a margarita glass rimmed with salt. Garnish with an orange slice.

In the meantime, Bill and I (and anyone else watching the game on Sunday with us) will be filled with hope. Go Broncos. Bill and I are United in Orange even though we're 900 miles away.

Friday Book Whimsy: Rin Tin Tin: The Life and Legend

When I was little, we used to spend Saturday mornings with my grandparents who lived in an apartment above the bakery. Those Saturday mornings are what taught me the importance of being a grandparent.

One of the things I liked most about those mornings was that we got to lay in front of their television set and watch a whole series of programs that I loved – Roy Rogers, Sky King, Lassie, The Rifleman, and of course, The Adventures of Rin Tin Tin. I thought back to those days as I read Susan Orlean’s wonderful book Rin Tin Tin: The Life and Legend. Such innocent times.

Because I loved Rin Tin Tin, along with Rusty and Lt. Rip Masters and Sgt. Biff O’Hara, it was fun for me to learn about the brave and intelligent German Shepherd’s history. I had no idea, prior to reading this book, that there was actually a Rin Tin Tin descended from other Rin Tin Tins. I always assumed he was just a dog – perhaps named Duke or Fido – playing a dog named Rin Tin Tin.

Orlean’s book is much more than a history of this particular German Shepherd dog, however. She gives us a lesson on dog breeding, and the history of television and movies, and the creation of the marketing industry. The book is a historical account of World War I from a slightly different angle. It is the story of a somewhat peculiar man who, for all intents and purposes, devotes his life to his dog. It is a sociological account of how people (and their tastes) changed over the course of almost a century and why.

Perhaps the thing that struck me the most about this entire story is the simplicity of tastes in the early days of movies and television, and how our tastes have changed. It’s hard to imagine that a program like the Adventures of Rin Tin Tin could have been so very popular, and so quickly.

For kicks, I went on You Tube and briefly watched an episode of the television program. I immediately became 7 again. But man oh man, it was simple storytelling and unsophisticated technology. Very different.

I’ve not read anything else by Orleans, but will definitely do so. I liked her writing style very much. She had a wonderful way of painting a picture with words. For example, she wrote about walking through an American military cemetery in Europe and described the way in which the graves were laid out:

The steady repetition was like a drumbeat, hypnotizing. I walked on and on, reading name after name, soothed by the rhythm of my steps, the soft spongy ground yielding under my feet, and by the flashing white of the crosses as I passed them, the whoosh of the wind tossing the linden trees’ leaves with exaggerated drama, the way little girls toss their hair.

I have walked through many national cemeteries, and her comparison of the white crosses, in such perfect order, to a drumbeat, was magnificent. Great writing for such a book for a book about a dog.

I’m sorry I won’t be there to hear my book club’s discussion about this book. I wonder if older people who can relate a bit better to the Rin Tin Tin era like the book better than younger readers. No matter, I think it will make interesting discussion.

I recommend this book for lovers of history and lovers of dogs.