Day 26: Never have I ever... channeled my inner Nonna

Ok, I admit it. I grew up in a jar sauce household. The only tomato sauce that ever passed these lips was made by dear old Aunt Millie (--------->) And, boy did we go through a lot of jars. Every week my mom would buy two or three. This was mainly because I dipped everything in tomato sauce. Chicken?  Only edible if dipped in tomato sauce. Steak? Same thing. Hamburgers... no first bite without a thin layer of sauce on top. Without tomato sauce, dinner would have been an endless fight, and I would have become protein-deficient. (For my even more picky sister, her magic food veil was applesauce. Our poor mother...)

I later learned... what I had been weaned on isn't real sauce. And there is nothing quite like a real Italian meal with homemade sauce. Thanks to many generous friends opening their homes and tables to me, I have had the privilege of tasting several different family recipes, every one of which was so good, I would eat it with a rusty spoon if that was the only available utensil.

But, a good sauce recipe is un affari famiglia. So when I decided to cast aside the inauthenticity of an American Irish Jew making sauce, I looked for a recipe that technically is in my family.... it just happens to be by marriage. My sister's husband's family is all about the homemade sauce. In fact, it was very important to my brother-in-law's mom (Linda) that she teach her new daughter-in-law (my sister) her sauce recipe. She passed along the family recipe several years ago, one Sunday afternoon in my sister's kitchen, about a year before she passed on. 

I called my sis and asked if she could email me what I was sure was going to be a very complicated recipe. No written recipe, she informed me. "Linda just taught me what to do by showing me, and now I can just do it." Wow. It was like... legend. 

My sister gave me verbal instructions on the phone and I wrote them down to the letter. Instead of a long list of ingredients I'd imagined, it was very simple: Crushed tomatoes, tomato paste, an onion, fresh basil, garlic, olive oil, S&P. All of those are the most versatile and tasty staples, and I could almost taste their alchemic combination. 

As with any good family recipe, there were a few secret tricks. After the crushed tomatoes, tomato paste, and generous amounts of chopped basil are mixed together, the recipe calls for a whole large onion to be put right into the sauce. I cut the ends of a large whitey, peeled the skin, and submerged the onion, whole and raw, with skepticism. I let this simmer for about three hours on it's own. 

Next, I made the meatballs. This isn't part of Linda's recipe, so I just made my own basic meatball recipe, which isn't anything fancy: Ground sirloin, an egg, whole wheat seasoned bread crumbs, minced fresh onion and garlic, a half a cup of finely grated parmesan, italian spices and S&P. Knead, and ball... presto! I browned the balls lightly, and then plopped them in the sauce to cook through (meatballs in the sauce IS part of Linda's recipe to impart flavor.) 

After 4 hours of total simmering, the onion was not only fully cooked, but beginning to get floppy and fall apart. I could smell all of the onion-y flavor that it had released into the sauce. The last step for the final hour of cooking, also known as secret #2: thinly slice an entire head of garlic and sauté in generous amount of olive oil, and then combine the garlicky oil into the sauce. It was very important not to burn the garlic at this step, my sister told me. The aroma explosion of the garlic and olive oil was wonderful. The garlic almost melted in to the oil, just as my sister said it would, and then I poured the whole bubbling skillet into the crock to simmer for the last hour. 

il risultato finale

All in all, the recipe was simple to execute. I had to fight the urge to make it more complex, which is a knee-jerk reaction to my general mediocrity in the kitchen. What about some wine, I thought? Wine makes everything better. How about some parsley... parsley adds a verdant burst of flavor. Or some oregano. What about a Bay Leaf? Two tablespoons of sugar? A 1/4 cup of beef broth? I reined myself in, and had faith in the simplicity of the ingredients and the expertise of the recipe. After all, this was tradition, and you don't monkey with tradition. 

Results: The effort took the better part of a day. But the meal was simple and delicious. It was accompanied by a glass of Bordeaux, and dressed by more fresh parm. I served the bright red sauce over the healthy-schmealthy penne enriched with protein and omega 3s, which made me feel slightly better about my carb-heavy dinner. But the fresh sauce would have really shone over tender, homemade linguini. Maybe next blog post.  

Status: Success, with a lotta leftovers. And sending thanks up to Linda and her Nonna (recipe courtesy of her cucina) for passing the legend on to an extended branch of her family. 

Day 20: Never have I ever… made stained glass art.

Pinned to the painting: dozens of
cards from flowers she's received.
Most were from her second husband, Ben,
with sentiments like "You're my darling."
The funniest?"Edie, I never called you STUPID."
Ah, marriage. 

This is a self-portrait of my grandmother. Edie. Artist. She is the most diversely creative person I have ever met in real life. Painting, pastels, charcoal, collage, photography, textiles, even film—she’s explored almost every possible medium with which to express her art. But perhaps her greatest love is working with stained glass. I never asked her what she loves about glass so much… but I’d guess that it's partly the treasure hunt. You can mix any paint hue. But you have to find the right piece of glass. Color, texture, thickness, transparency; it was all about finding the perfection-combination to make her vision a reality. I have vivid childhood memories in her studio…. she’d hold up a pristine, thin slab of glass and declare “Look at this glass against the light. Isn’t the color just wondaahful?” She loves glass.

These are two of her lovely works.

Glass window of my childhood home.     Butterflies are the signature Edie motif. 

Sadly, Edie isn’t in the studio any more. After 80+ years of artistic fuel, she is no longer of body or mind to do the work that she loved so much. And one of the cruelties of life is that you never know when it’s going to be your last day in the studio. She didn’t. So, for the past few years, there has been a half-finished lamp just sitting on her studio’s worktable. It stares at me sadly every time I visit her. It begs to be finished. I shut the door and tell it to be quiet. I don’t know how to do stained glass. 

But now with some more free time on my hands, I thought, hey… maybe I could learn how to do stained glass? So I watched a BUNCH of online videos. It looked like a manageable process, but I knew that this was a craft that had held my grandmother’s attention for a lifetime; it couldn’t be easy. But I would try. 

Lamp, inspired by the Hearst Building   The lamp, unfinished view.

I headed out to Long Island to spend the day in my grandmother’s studio. After a bedside visit with her, I went down to the studio, put on my Pandora Mozart station to really get into the EdieZone, and began to dust off the work station. The studio was in bad shape after years of neglect. It took me about 90 minutes to get things in order, find the right supplies, and take stock of the lamp’s current state. The lamp is actually in decent shape. It needs the fourth panel finished, and then joined to the other three. The connecting joint pieces also need to be soldered into place. 

Luckily, about 98% of the pieces were already cut by Edie years ago. And I need no practice cutting stained glass anyway, thanks to an ill-fated attempt at a glass mosaic table that lived, unfinished, in my parents’ basement for about, oh, 7 years. I cut about 300 pieces of glass for that project before letting it fall to the wayside. (And somewhere, my dad is shaking his head as he reads this…) Cutting glass isn’t really hard. You just score it with a glass cutter, hold it with glass pliers, and apply some pressure. Snap. Glass is cut. I cut a few triangles with ease, just to make sure I still had it. 

Next up, the glass pieces need to be wrapped with copper foil. This looked so easy on the video! It wasn’t. The thin foil curls and sticks to itself, and it’s nearly impossible to perfectly center it over an even thinner piece of glass. It takes some real finesse. After wrapping, the copper foil must be burnished down on all sides with a notched tool. This wasn’t hard, just laborious. She did this for every single piece for every window or lamp she ever did?  Yikes.

Blurry shot of my fresh solder

Next I laid the wrapped piece beside the half-completed panel. It was time for the tricky part: soldering. I heated up the solder iron. Before you solder the pieces together, a thin coat of flux must be applied to the copper foil. Flux is a chemical compound that is inert at room temp, but once heated becomes highly reductive and allows the tin-lead solder to fuse to the copper wrapped pieces. It's basically stained glass glue. I fluxed the joint with a paintbrush and then cut a piece of solder wire slightly larger than the joint to be soldered. First step is to “tin the tip” which means melting a little starter layer of solder on the tip of the iron. 

Whoa, Nelly! This stuff melts in a hot second, literally! I knew that the tin-lead solder had a low melting point, but I didn’t expect the metal to go molten the second it touched the hot iron. Ok, ok. It’s only melted, scalding metal. It will only give me 3^rd degree burns if I have a little slip-up. No bigs. I really wanted to touch this shiny fluid. How hot was it? I felt like Smeagol; the glistening solder was my ring. I'm sure I could touch it... just one little touch... it wouldn't hurt that badly, would it? I was too chicken, and decided some mysteries are best left unknown. I delicately ran the soldering iron up the joint, leading the metallic liquid into the crevasse as I went.  It produced a shiny, beautiful ridge. It was very gratifying.

I repeated a few more wraps and joints and then decided to go up and visit with Edie some more. Her eyesight is poor and her hearing is gone, along with most of her memory. It’s a good visit if we have few simple exchanges. So we just sit together, mostly. I so badly wanted to talk to about the project. I wanted to ask her how long it took to complete her various works, why the flux didn’t take on one spot, how on earth she made these complicated jigsaw puzzles of glass work?! Then, I wanted to punch myself in the face for not asking her all of this while she was still able to tell me. 

Results: I made some serious progress on my learning curve, and I gained a serious appreciation for the patience, skill, vision and detail required for this art. Looking around my grandmother’s home, filled with stained glass pieces in every room, and thinking about all of her works that grace the homes of our family, friends, and the massive glass installation she completed in her local library, I almost cannot believe the thousands of woman-hours that Edie has devoted to her great love. That's a LOT of copper foil. 

Though I didn’t get too far on the project this time, I think I might be able to actually finish her lamp. She might not get it, she might not even remember starting the lamp. But on some level, I think she’ll be happy that I’m trying.

Status: A good starter success. 

Day 4: Never have I ever... made a home video

This post could also be titled "Never Have I Ever Had SO MUCH Respect for Stay-at-Home Moms", but i'm really trying to avoid clichés here. But seriously... to all the parents out there: RESPECT.

I just spent the past three days with my adorable, hilarious nephews and I feel like just ran a marathon. Oh fuck, the clichés. I'm too tired to think. You people seriously do this every day? Come on. Surely you must lock them in the closet or tie them together from time to time. Child abuse? Please. That's sanity. They.never.stop. 
(Before anyone gets all worked up and calls CPS on me, let me be 100% clear: I'm kidding.) 

Taking care of young children all day long isn't exactly challenging. But damn, it's hard. It's exhausting, repetitive, ridiculous, and is the greatest exercise in patience I've ever had... and I only do it on snow days.  

Carter, Oliver, and their Jammie, Pop-pop and I were snowed in for two days while my sister had to trudge into work. (She works in healthcare, and sick patients don't take snow days...) In this childcare scenario, I try to make it easy on my parents so they can enjoy the kids rather than tire at their merciless energy. I usually handle the most annoying duties like meals, diapers, discipline, chasing. But I'm not delusional. This caregiving situation is easy-peasy compared to the typical day for most parents. I can say "Hey Dad, please watch Oliver for a minute. I really have to pee." The alternative if I actually was a stay-at-home mom? Oliver stands there looking at me quizzically as I drop trou, and I speculate permanent damage to his perception of normal family boundaries. 

I could go on and on about how much patience and love it takes to raise children well, but I don't want to overstate the obvious here. Plus, what the H-E-double-hockeysticks do I know? I'm not raising these kids. I'm just the babysitter. I aim to be a nurterer, but I know I'm only toe-dipping in the vast ocean that is Parenthood. And man, that bitch is deep. 

Today's New Experience: Shoot and edit a short home video. That's it. Simple? Tricky? Fun? Tedious? I didn't know. 

Six months ago, I got a new MacBook Pro, but I have barely scratched it's capabilities. I haven't even cracked iMovie, and just started with iPhoto last month. I'm surprised the folks at Apple haven't knocked on my door and taken it away to go live with a foster User.

Between iMovie and Flip, homemade movies so ubiquitous that it's almost embarrassing to admit I've never made one. There are elementary school children learning how to edit videos right now in their "TechnArtology" classes. But making good homemade movies require a dash of skill. My friend Christie, in particular, has demonstrated her Edward Scissorshands-like editing talents on multiple occasions. She hits all the right notes: Appropriate music, humorous captioning, clever timing. I aspire to make a piece that's a fraction as cute as her works. 

So, I spent all day Wednesday casually shooting the boys in their daily activities with a Kodak HD mini-videocam.  After the goslings went to bed, and after wiping the floor with my Dad in a few games of of Jotto, I began to upload the footage to iMovie. I didn't want to watch the stupid tutorial; winging it with iProducts is usually effective thanks to their intuitive UI. It took me about an hour to figure out how to import the footage, basic editing, music, text, and transitions. About 2.5 hours of actual editing and creative experimentation, and I was done. Unfortunately, starting this project at midnight was a bad idea. I was up until 4:00 a.m. binging on the meaningless details before forcing myself to shut down and get some rest. A mere four hours later, I woke to a tiny little hand pushing my door open. "ReeRee, are you awake? Let's go play games." 

Results: A cute little ditty* that the grandparents might even forward on to their AOL friends. Please keep in mind, after two days with cabin-fevered boys, things got a little wacky at Casa Bruno. And yes, we know that hand trucks aren't toys. 

Status: Success! 

Notes:
- I showed the video to the boys this morning. Carter thought it was the most hilarious thing he's ever seen. He laughed uncontrollably, danced around singing "i'm crazy like you!" and exclaimed "Play it again!". Oliver began to wail as soon as he saw the close-up shot of his own face. Upon the second viewing, Ollie made it a little further into the video,  and then again had a meltdown.... at the sight of his own face. Kids are so weird.  
*Warning: Contains nudity. Video not intended for children and pets under the age of 18.

Day 3: Never have I ever... channeled my inner Babka

Every good Polish grandmother makes her own pierogis. Whipping up hundreds for every family occasion is probably just another Thursday afternoon for Babka. But let me tell you... this is one laborious Polish delight. 

Quick backstory... 

I'm not the best chef among us. I love to cook, especially for others. There's nothing better than preparing a meal for someone you love to enjoy. It's even better when they don't spit out the food. As a budding chef, I've had some hits, I've had some misses. My family tends to remember the misses. If I offer to contribute a dish to a family function, I'm prepared for giggles. Back home in Brooklyn, a recent Boeuf Bourguignon effort was met with this question: "Um, Carrie, is 'bourguignon' French for 'leather'?"

So for all of you gourmands out there, don't laugh too hard at my modest culinary pursuits. Or I'll invite you over for dinner. 

Ok, back to yesterday's challenge: Make pierogis... from scratch. Serve to family for dinner. 

Since this isn't a culinary blog, I'll skip the actual recipe. But here's the basic gist: 

1. Make dough

2. Make filling

3. Shape pierogis

4. Boil and/or sauté

Seems simple, eh? Well, it's not. First off, making proper dough is never easy. And I had no idea what the consistency of pierogi dough should feel like, having never made it before. It seemed remarkably gluey to me. I had visions of my family futilely gnawing on rubbery shells of dough with forced smiles. So I mixed a little extra sour cream into the dough, and crossed my fingers. (I didn't know that pierogi dough has sour cream in it, the reason for the dough's unique zing.) After an eternity of messy kneading, I wrapped the dough ball in wax paper and stuck it in the fridge.

Making the filling was more idiot-proof, but equally time-consuming. The potatoes had to be peeled (the absolute worst kitchen task in my opinion), and then boiled. The onions had to be diced and then sauteed until translucent. The two then had to be mashed together until smooth. With no lubricant like butter or milk, much elbow grease was required. I added generous amounts of salt, pepper, chives and fresh parsley for seasoning. Finally, I mixed in about 8 oz of grated sharp cheddar. 

Next up was the pierogi construction--the really long part. The sticky dough had to be rolled thin and cut into circles. Due to the dough's shrinky-dink effect, the cut circles needed to be re-rolled to thin. Then, I placed a spoonful of filling on a dough circle, carefully wet the edge (by dipping my finger into a cup of water), and closed up the Polish Hot Pocket. However, pierogis require a sturdier seal, so I took a scallop-edged cookie-cutter and pressed the round side of each half moon. Otherwise the potato filling would escape when boiled. Then, I repeated that process for the next three hours, until 40 large raw pierogis emerged. 

Pierogis are cooked by either boiling or sauteing; I chose to boil. When I saw the doughy masses begin to float to the top of the water (the fully-cooked signal), I was thrilled. The dish at least passed this first test: they float! 

I served the pierogis hot, with sauteed onions, apple sauce, and of course, sour cream. The meal was rounded out by deliciously simple fresh beets. (I bought the beets with the intention of making borscht, but when the darn pierogis consumed my entire afternoon, I had to scrap that plan.) 

The family dug in. No one was spitting it out! 4 adults and 2 children ate about half of the monster batch, and we froze the rest. The dough wasn't rubbery at all (phew!) and the classic applesauce/onion/sour cream combo really let the flavorful pierogis shine. 

My parents had never had pierogis before (what?!!), and actually seemed to like them. Of course my father, who can't imagine a world without meat, commented "they're delicious, but would be improved with some bacon bits, the real kind, not that fake crap in the cupboard."

Results: Delicious pierogis and a sated family. But time investment+cost of ingredients vs. quality of product yielded makes it a no-brainer: I will return to buying Mrs. T's pierogis in the freezer section of my local grocer. 

Status: Success! (and leftovers)