Anyone who's been reading this blog for awhile may have noticed that the amount of "traditional Italian" recipes has dropped off sharply. The reason for this is that I am running out of family recipes. Believe me, I have pestered and pestered my family, because technically this blog is for them, but apparently they are just not buying into the whole "my recipes at my fingertips" thing. So, I still cook Italian food, and when I make up an Italian recipe worth publishing, I publish it. But sometimes I just cook straight out of a recipe book and, you know, I'm not legally entitled to "post" that on "the internet" so that "strangers" can access it "for free". Especially now that I'm in the middle of Molto Batali by Mario Batali. Sure, he's smiling on the cover, but he might just come kick my cute laptop across the room, all for the children's sake. (His cookbook's proceeds go in part to this children's charity he started.) It's a good cookbook, although definitely not the kind of Italian food I'm used to getting from the Grandmom's kitchen. I'd be willing to bet it's from a different region of Italy. (The Canduci family is from Southern Italy/Sicily and Grandpop's mom couldn't cook, so it doesn't matter where she was from. More on that later.) So, the upshot is, when I have a recipe I made up myself, or is the intellectual property of my family, I'll pass it on to you. But there are no guarantees about it being Italian! Oh, why I am even worrying, the top three recipes on this blog are: Okra and Potatoes (Southern), Hot Dog, Pork & Beans, and Cabbage Casserole (from the Notorious Fifties), and Pizza Gein, the only Italian favorite.
Persian Split Pea Loaf
2 C. cooked split peas, drained
1/2 red onion, sliced
1/2 tsp. cinnamon
1/4 tsp. garlic powder
1/4 tsp. coriander
1/4 tsp. paprika
1 tsp. salt
2 TB. tomato paste
1/3 C. vegetable or chicken stock*
1/4 C. golden raisins
1/4-1/3 C. oatmeal**
2-3 TB. cooking oil
1 egg
Preheat the oven to 400F. Heat the oil in a saucepan over medium heat. Saute the onion until it's soft. Add in the spices and let them sizzle around for about a minute. Add in the golden raisins and stir to coat them in the spices. Add in the tomato paste, salt, and chicken stock, and stir everything up so that you have a fairly thick broth in the bottom of your pan. Let that bubble another minute or so. Dump your split peas into a mixing bowl. Add in the broth mixture, the oatmeal, and the egg, stirring everything well to blend it all together. Pour the mixture into a lightly-greased glass loaf pan, then cover it with tinfoil. Bake for 40 minutes covered, then remove it from the oven and check for doneness with a toothpick inserted into the middle of the loaf. (It should come out moist but clean, with no crumbs or goo.) Once you pass the toothpick test, remove the tinfoil and bake the loaf for another 10 minutes uncovered. Remove it from the oven for good and let it rest 10 minutes before attempting to slice it. Serve each slice drizzled with ketchup if you so desire.
__________
I have been trying to achieve this dish for a while now, in fact since the very beginning of my "almost vegetarian" attempt. Finally, success!
*I used chicken stock, but it would probably taste just as good with vegetable.
**I used instant maple-flavored, and it really added something extra. If you don't have a spare packet of maple-flavored instant oatmeal lying around, I recommend adding a little real maple syrup to the spice blend.
__________
Apparently I am now an adult enough for Grandmom to share with me her stories about her mother-in-law, whom she hated. In Grandmom's defense, she loved her father-in-law, who was by all reports a lovely man. However, Mrs. Chiarello was a whole other story. One day over "The Bachelor", or some other equally awful tv show (what can I say, Grandmom loves reality tv) Grandmom unloaded to me about Assunta "Susan" Chiarello. Crime the First: she couldn't cook. According to Grandmom, this is what killed my Uncle Ron's namesake, her father-in-law Rafael Chiarello. Grandmom also blames Grandpop's being such a picky eater, plague of her (Grandmom's) life (being just as adventurous in the kitchen as I am) on Assunta's lack of cooking ability. Crime the Second: she did not have an appropriate respect for hygiene. When Grandmom and Grandpop were first married, they lived with his parents until they could save up to buy a house, and you know this was in the fifties so that was only expected to be a couple of years. Fast-forward to far longer than Grandmom wanted to live with her inlaws: the birth of the aforementioned Uncle Ron. Grandmom comes into the living room one day and sees her mother-in-law laughing her head off. She comes around the couch to see what it's all about, and it's my uncle, chewing on a house slipper. The next day, Grandmom went out and bought a house. Two doors down from her own mother. And that is where she and Grandpop have lived ever since. Crime the Third: she was a notorious liar. After Grandmom and Grandpop moved out, word got back to her that her mother-in-law was passing it around that "she (Assunta) had kicked them out". Later on, I guess Grandmom gained her approval, because when she went to nurse Assunta in the hospital at the end of her life, she discovered that Assunta had been telling all the nurses that she (Grandmom) was her (Assunta's) daughter. Grandmom was incensed. How dare that awful woman be claiming her? Have you ever seen an 80-year old woman say "ugh" out loud? I have.
Persian Split Pea Loaf
2 C. cooked split peas, drained
1/2 red onion, sliced
1/2 tsp. cinnamon
1/4 tsp. garlic powder
1/4 tsp. coriander
1/4 tsp. paprika
1 tsp. salt
2 TB. tomato paste
1/3 C. vegetable or chicken stock*
1/4 C. golden raisins
1/4-1/3 C. oatmeal**
2-3 TB. cooking oil
1 egg
Preheat the oven to 400F. Heat the oil in a saucepan over medium heat. Saute the onion until it's soft. Add in the spices and let them sizzle around for about a minute. Add in the golden raisins and stir to coat them in the spices. Add in the tomato paste, salt, and chicken stock, and stir everything up so that you have a fairly thick broth in the bottom of your pan. Let that bubble another minute or so. Dump your split peas into a mixing bowl. Add in the broth mixture, the oatmeal, and the egg, stirring everything well to blend it all together. Pour the mixture into a lightly-greased glass loaf pan, then cover it with tinfoil. Bake for 40 minutes covered, then remove it from the oven and check for doneness with a toothpick inserted into the middle of the loaf. (It should come out moist but clean, with no crumbs or goo.) Once you pass the toothpick test, remove the tinfoil and bake the loaf for another 10 minutes uncovered. Remove it from the oven for good and let it rest 10 minutes before attempting to slice it. Serve each slice drizzled with ketchup if you so desire.
__________
I have been trying to achieve this dish for a while now, in fact since the very beginning of my "almost vegetarian" attempt. Finally, success!
*I used chicken stock, but it would probably taste just as good with vegetable.
**I used instant maple-flavored, and it really added something extra. If you don't have a spare packet of maple-flavored instant oatmeal lying around, I recommend adding a little real maple syrup to the spice blend.
__________
Apparently I am now an adult enough for Grandmom to share with me her stories about her mother-in-law, whom she hated. In Grandmom's defense, she loved her father-in-law, who was by all reports a lovely man. However, Mrs. Chiarello was a whole other story. One day over "The Bachelor", or some other equally awful tv show (what can I say, Grandmom loves reality tv) Grandmom unloaded to me about Assunta "Susan" Chiarello. Crime the First: she couldn't cook. According to Grandmom, this is what killed my Uncle Ron's namesake, her father-in-law Rafael Chiarello. Grandmom also blames Grandpop's being such a picky eater, plague of her (Grandmom's) life (being just as adventurous in the kitchen as I am) on Assunta's lack of cooking ability. Crime the Second: she did not have an appropriate respect for hygiene. When Grandmom and Grandpop were first married, they lived with his parents until they could save up to buy a house, and you know this was in the fifties so that was only expected to be a couple of years. Fast-forward to far longer than Grandmom wanted to live with her inlaws: the birth of the aforementioned Uncle Ron. Grandmom comes into the living room one day and sees her mother-in-law laughing her head off. She comes around the couch to see what it's all about, and it's my uncle, chewing on a house slipper. The next day, Grandmom went out and bought a house. Two doors down from her own mother. And that is where she and Grandpop have lived ever since. Crime the Third: she was a notorious liar. After Grandmom and Grandpop moved out, word got back to her that her mother-in-law was passing it around that "she (Assunta) had kicked them out". Later on, I guess Grandmom gained her approval, because when she went to nurse Assunta in the hospital at the end of her life, she discovered that Assunta had been telling all the nurses that she (Grandmom) was her (Assunta's) daughter. Grandmom was incensed. How dare that awful woman be claiming her? Have you ever seen an 80-year old woman say "ugh" out loud? I have.
Thank you very much for this recipe. I was looking for something like this and this recipe was exactly what I needed. Also, the little blurb about your Grandmom was very amusing.
ReplyDelete