Dinners with Daddy
...Italian men in the kitchen
The stereotype of the Italian kitchen always shows the Nonna or Mama at the stove. In reality, this falls a bit short of the truth.
Of the Italian families I know, most of the men cook… and very well, I might add!
My brother-in-law John, for example, is a great cook! He follows in the tradition of his father Pete, who was a master in the kitchen. In fact, John, like his Dad before him, has an outdoor kitchen all his own! John’s Mom, Anna, is a great cook… and so is my sister Gen (although she would never admit it). Yet, Gen doesn’t enjoy cooking as much as John, and is always grateful when he takes a turn in the kitchen!
My dear friend and artist Fiorenzo is also right at home in the kitchen, and is every bit as good a chef as he is an artist! I love when he comes into my kitchen and we can collaborate. He always suggests something unexpected, which I love! …and which I anticipate from such a creative artist!
In my immediate family, when I was growing up, my Mom and Nonna were the ones in the kitchen. My Dad, a physician, was focused on his patients. He left early in the morning, came home to have dinner with his family, and returned to work most evenings for office hours, hospital visits, and yes, even house calls!… returning at 10 or 11pm.
But one day, that all changed. A dear friend of my father’s, an older doctor, lost his wife unexpectedly. Death, especially a sudden one, is always difficult. Yet in this case, my Dad’s friend found himself rather helpless. His devoted wife not only ran their household, but his medical practice as well. My Dad recounted visiting him shortly after, and recalled that his friend was at a loss, as he struggled to make them a cup of coffee.
My Dad very quickly realized if, God forbid, anything should happen to my Mom, he might find himself in a similar situation. This is when he asked her to teach him how to cook.
Dad always sat at the kitchen counter as my Mom prepared dinner, both enjoying their cocktails and discussing their day. When Daddy expressed his desire to learn how to cook, Mommy just told him to watch. Ever the scientist, this was not good enough for him. He constantly stopped her, asking for measurements. Of course, she didn’t have any…. so he, himself, would stop and measure how much of each ingredient went into the pot! All of this was diligently recorded in his little green notebook, which I’m lucky to still have today.
If it wasn’t for his culinary curiosity, we wouldn’t have such an accurate account of our family recipes. (Good thing we’ve learned to read his doctor’s handwriting!)
As time progressed and Dad experimented in the kitchen, he became quite competent. He even had several specialities all his own… among them, Calamari and Shrimp Salad, which he made every year for his birthday celebration, and Eggplant Parmigiana, a dish he loved from his childhood. Pasta Amatriciana and Pasta Fagioli were also favorites he made.
Prior to his epiphany, Daddy only stepped up to the stove once a year, on Christmas morning, when he made his famous “Italian” French Toast for the family… a tradition we still practice today!
Back in the early 1980s, when I attended The New York Restaurant School, I lived in the apartment over my Dad’s office in the Bronx, at 1604 Williamsbridge Road. He spent Tuesday evenings in this apartment, rather than drive the hour and a half to the Farm, as he did most nights. On Tuesday evenings, I would return from school, and we would head out to eat. But some evenings, he would cook for me, and I would return from school to the aroma of a wonderful dinner wafting down the stairs as I entered the apartment.
He often cooked from his green notebook, but sometimes he would experiment with new recipes discovered in Mom’s extensive culinary library, or from the Sunday New York Times. It was always a treat! We would enjoy a cocktail or glass of wine while Daddy put the finishing touches on dinner. I’ll always treasure the memories of these Dinners with Daddy.
To read more about my wonderful Dad, click here.
I’m happy to share some of his recipes with you here. As Daddy used to say “B. A.” (Buon Appetito!)
