Quote:
Originally Posted by Jim&Fran
Every Sunday morning my alarm clock would would gently wake me, not a ringer or buzzer but rather the sound of sizzle and the aroma of garlic and oil. Without looking I knew a large cast iron fryin pan would be crowded with hand rolled meatballs of different sizes.
Mom always made "extras" which were kept on the stove until I returned from Church.
A huge pot, already simmering with deep scarlet tomato lava, laced with chunks of meaty goodness sat waiting but not quite ready.
Walking back home after Church you could smell that same Sunday morning temptation comming from each house I passed. I was born and raised in the Long Island City (Astoria)
section of NYC. The first thing I did when comming back home was to grab one of those extras on the stove with a fork. I would carefully swipe it along the upper rim on the pot, that's where the Gravey was caked and thick. Oh the joy of simple pleasures. There was always something unique about moms and grandmas Gravey and meatballs, I was sure none were better in the whole world. To this day I try to duplicate everything I saw and learned, to be honest I'm close, really close. I guess the secret to making that wonderful traditional dish is to make plenty at once. I might have a touch of OCD when it comes to cooking. When I make meatballs I always make an even number, not 6 or 8 how about 20 or 30. I found that its easier to come closer due to the fact that a smidge more salt or anything else will not throw off the flavor as much. By the way please keep all those measuring devices in the draw, a tsp of this or a cup of that. You want to cook like Granma than cook like Granma. Put the ingredients in the palm of your hand one at a time, look at it then add. Make meatballs a little irregular, I mean not all the same size. Each one will have its own appeal when you reach into the meat platter with your own fork. By the way, Grandma and Grandpa lived downstairs and yes we made wine every fall in the cellar.
Sunday's were always filled with good food, fun and family visits.
Oh any by the way, we had macaroni not pasta with the Gravey.
Maybe another time I'll tell you about what else was in that large pot with the wooden spoon keeping the lid ajar all morning and afternoon. Yep, you can't get this stuff in a jar.
Eat well.
Jim.
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Jim: ditto Every Sunday after 7:30 mass to Granma's big bowls of meatballs with and without sauce, fresh Italian bread antipasta, sometimes eggplant and always homemade red wine. As kids we we entitled to a shot glass of wine with an adminition that this was allowed only because of celebration and any gratitious consumption was a cause for discipline.
Who ever said that a breakfast had to consist of bacon and eggs only not that i don't like bacon and eggs.