The cold cuts in the antipasto were succulent, perfectly complimented by sun-dried tomatoes and mozzarella di bufala so good it made our eyes roll back in our heads. If you’ve never tried this famous kind of mozzarella, and have the resources to do so, I encourage you to run out right now and get some. Agreeable as regular mozzarella is, this has delicate flavor to it, like a soft, beautiful note of music. To put it another way, mozzarella di bufala is da bomb. Sorry. For the main course, our gravy (tomato sauce) was perfectly seasoned and the texture was ideal, with small chunks of tomato blended into the thicker tomato paste base. Once again, this was sublimely set off by small pieces of mozzarella di bufala. Desert was a delicious tiramisu and my favorite drink, Marsala wine with an ice cube.
A few nights later, I re-heated some meatballs I’d made recently. The recipe has been in my family for generations, transcribed and learned by taste, sight, and sound, rather than writing. Much as I enjoy these meatballs, I couldn’t help noticing a difference between the strongly seasoned meat and the subtly flavored meal we’d eaten the other night. My family’s meatballs have built up a pretty good reputation among friends and loved ones, and for me they’re a go-to comfort food. Even making them soothes my worries. But as I cut into one and took a bite, I realized more than ever that they aren’t…refined.
Of course they’re not refined, I reasoned with myself. My family were peasants in Italy, and hardworking immigrants in America. They didn’t have the time or desire for light, fancy, somewhat expensive cuisine – they needed a delicious, well-seasoned source of energy.
I thought about what those meatballs had accomplished. I thought of how my great-grandfather Giuseppe earned enough money hauling a block of ice to furnish chips for neighborhood refrigerators, to buy a horse. I thought of my grandmother, who raised five children and always made her own food. I thought of my aunts and uncle, hearty, friendly, and smart, who grew up to become teachers and doctors, maybe all because of the energy they’d gotten from those meatballs.
And then of course I thought of my grandfather. During World War II, he and some of his fellow American soldiers were captured and held in a German P.O.W. camp, from which they managed to escape. When he returned to America, he was dangerously underweight. The doctors examined him and told him that his digestive system had been severely damaged: he’d have to eat a bland diet for the rest of his days, or risk major health problems. My grandfather politely told them to screw themselves and went on eating his wife’s Italian food – including her meatballs – for the next forty-five years, during which time he saved countless lives as a fireman.
Though my family’s meatballs aren’t delicate or complex, they hold within them more memories and stories of where I come from than any family tree or photograph (well, except that excellent photo of Giuseppe – his pride at owning his own horse just radiates from the image).
As I thought more about the meatballs, I also realized they sort of describe me: friendly, confident, and small. They want to please and soothe those eating them, even if they don’t always succeed (I’m pretty sure my mother-in-law, a true master at French recipes and seasonings, snickers whenever they’re mentioned). They’re full of stories. They invite friends and family and others to sit down, relax, maybe have a chat - that’s all I ask from most of my relationships. Despite their seeming honest simplicity, they carry secret ingredients in their heart that few people will ever know.
As I finished my plate, my contemplation turned elsewhere. So many of you OSers are real foodies and talented chefs, with a variety of specialties under your belts. I started to wonder: in some way, does the food you generally tend to make, somehow define you? Do the recipes you’re most drawn to represent something about yourselves?
On another level, even for those of us who don’t cook, are we truly what we eat? Does your favorite meal somehow show something about who you are?
These questions have definitely got me intrigued. Maybe I’ve got a point. Then again, maybe I’ve just eaten too many meatballs…..
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froggy
Gerald Andersen
Eva T. Made Vaudeville
Joanne Harper
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Kerry Lauerman
Salon.com
Comments
In all seriousness, Alysa, this was a terrific, thoughtful post, and I loved the stories about your ancestors.
Cranky - Haha on the jerk chicken. Of course, I don't believe it for a second. Thanks so much for your kind words.
My father in law (in the Italian army) was too at Bergen Belsen and he was so sick after he was told the same thing. He ate everything and drank wine until he died a few years ago.
I love potatoes.. so what does that say ab0ut me??:)
rated with hugs
Rw - Some neighborhoods of Paris, like the 16th and 7th arrondissements, for example, tend to have a very rich population. But there are many, many other working class areas, including the 19th and 20th arrondissements, that are filled with a very diverse population of native French people, immigrants, artists, and others. There is government housing in almost every arrondissement, so just about every area is mixed. Not to mention the fact that public transportation allows for no social boundaries. Life here is like life in most big cities I've been to: the rich and the working class and the poor and the destitute all co-exist amongst each other. The great thing is in France there's a lot of social aid and programs for those without a lot of money. For a view of how the other half lives, you'd probably have to leave Paris entirely and head to northern suburbs like St. Denis - which tend to have high crime rates and a lot of social unrest, unfortunately, due to issues like a disenfranchised-feeling generation of kids born from immigrants. I think overall, though there are class differences, the biggest difference here isn't economic, but cultural.
Interesting theory, Alysa. You know the Brazilian cannibals call us long pigs because we supposedly taste to them like pigs and, as we know, pigs eat...garbage!
And what a neat device for telling us more about your family.
Being a Southern Girl, I have some pretty unrefined tastes, but that doesn't mean I wouldn't lick my plate in a place like Il Pinnochio. I love it all! And Tony Bourdain eats (and enjoys) offal and gopher guts, so what does that say about him? I think a 'foodie' is someone who appreciates a well prepared plate, so welcome to the club, where the motto is 'you are what you eat' - which should be 'almost anything', if asked. Great post, A.
You, Alysa, are one-upping Proust in that your meatballs are causing you to recall things that you yourself did not experience. Not impossible. Could be Jungian racial memory.
All joking aside, I loved the piece. I probably am what I eat, which is frightening.
Lately, I have been on a kick to return to the foods I grew up with... which also, are not "refined". It makes me sad to think that many people of my generation and younger have no connection to food traditions and simply follow trends and convenience.
it was written in your inimitable style:
deep appreciation of the smalish things
to make the metaphysical point....
meatballs! Ha...
For me it is linguine with clam sauce...
_____________________
we ARE what we eat.
Some of us can COOK.
________________________
You can probably follow the metaphorical path in that statement.
______________________________
You are one of my favorite writers because you can follow
these fancifal forays into
mind/body/integration.
(for lack of a real scientific term)
--------------------------------------------------------
The point is that nothing we ever say, or do, or think, or feel,
is "accidental"
in the philosophical sense of "accident":
without cause, random,chaotic.
In other words, without
value.
The value of existence is in the smallest tiniest temporal glimpses
into the ferocious
divine
archetypal
patterns we ar e
playing at, and evolving...
Like:
My family were peasants in Italy, and hardworking immigrants in America. They didn’t have the time or desire for light, fancy, somewhat expensive cuisine – they needed a delicious, well seasoned source of energy...
now we have the time and desire for light and fancy, OR
declicious, well seasoned
food,
and experience...
This was a moving, beautifully-written tribute to your grandparents and the family meatball recipe. So much love and history and family in that special recipe. It's no wonder you love making them. I wonder if you'd make them as often if you weren't living abroad...
♥
One of my Grandma's sisters married an Italian boxer (my uncle Mickey). Her mother-in-law taught her Neapolitan-style cooking.
I learned how to make pizza helping Aunt Molly when she was too old to stretch the dough and throw around big hot trays. I think of her every time I have pizza. I should write about the last time I saw her. She was hilarious to her last day.
This post brings together things I love: good food, family memories, and a chance to analyze ones self.
Good good.
I used to love my grandmother's meatballs, who was not Italian, but had lots of Italian neighbors. Living in central NY, we also had the great pizza. Not so much fried chicken or pot roast or stuff like that, but steaks and sausage with peppers, and lasagna. We also had goulash and Spanish rice, lots of ethnic dishes because they were cheap. I used to make Italian food all the time when I was married, because it's cheap, easy and delicious. but now that Fayard and I don't eat gluten or wheat anymore, we eat lots more potatoes and rice, but the thing I think I like the best is deep fried chicken nuggets. You cut up some chicken, thighs or breasts, whip up some egg whites till frothy, dip the chicken pieces in, then roll those in some potato starch OR corn starch OR tapioca starch with a little bit of poultry seasoning, fry them in hot oil, and then you can either eat them plain or make lemon butter sauce or hot sauce. That's my favorite dinner that I can afford. I also love steamed clams and lobster tails and steak, but I almost never get those. And we're discussing food again. Great post, great history.
Lezlie
Joan – I like your style!
Matt – I’ve heard we’re very similar to pigs…but you know, some pigs eat better than some people, I’m sure. Thank you for your kind words.
Jerry – Thanks for sharing some wonderful Italian food and family memories. My mom says she remembers making ravioli with my grandma – but she never mentioned the dangers of eating the raw dough! :-~
Abby – Wow. Very well said, as always!
Brassawe – I never thought Proust and I would be in the same sentence. Even though we are both a bit verbose, so I guess we’ve got that going. :- ) And I bet you eat wonderful things down in Mexico!
Grace – It does seem like a lot less people of my generation and those born after, don’t follow traditions as much when it comes to cooking. I have a lot of friends from different ethnic backgrounds and I’m one of the only ones who cooks from family recipes. I hope people will keep up their traditions though, because they’re really all we have. Eventually, people on a family tree become names and dates. At least with food, there’s a flavor and personality that remain, too. I hope to read more soon about this new culinary quest you’ve mentioned!
Don – Hmm…another good point – this question does not apply to those who neither cook nor eat very much, I guess.
James – Thank you for your lovely and profound words and I will definitely be thinking about “we ARE what we eat. /Some of us can COOK.” Maybe I should do more cooking….
Myriad – If this question makes you define yourself as a big fat nothing then my theory is false, because you are anything but those adjectives.
Liz – I’d say from what you eat that your food of choice offers emotional as well as physical appeal, be it a clear conscience, family memories, or general well-being. Would you consider those character traits you have? As for your question about the frequency with which I made meatballs, even when I lived in New York, very near my family and rooming with friends, I made meatballs, but it’s true that here, far from most of my loved ones, I do probably make them a bit more often. Interesting observation.
Mumbletypeg – Hmm…I hadn’t factored the possibility of past lives into it…..
Robin – Glad you liked the question – I think it’s elicited some very interesting (and appetizing) answers!
Larry – Thanks, and my pleasure! I look forward to reading your post.
Fusun – Thanks! I agree that convenience also factors into why people don’t cook as much. I think at this point cooking often has to be done out of love. I’m glad you love to cook, because you always share such delicious recipes here!
another steve – Thank you for sharing such wonderful memories. As you and some others here have pointed out, I love how cooking can sometimes bring us lasting family memories. You should definitely write about your aunt one day – anyone involved in making pizza is a-okay in my book!
kate – Thank you! And I totally know what you mean about dressing how you feel, too!
NSisifo – What a cool and delicious coincidence! I hope you enjoyed the brownies! Thanks for reading and for your kind words.
Morticia – Thank you. I know they’re not the most hoity-toity food, but I have to agree, no matter what!
Hermione – That’s okay! I’m not a huge cook either – nowhere near a lot of the talented cooks here on OS. Thanks for reading anyway, and I’m glad you enjoyed the post.
latethink – Ooh, thanks for the yummy details of growing up in NYC. I have distant cousins living out their childhoods there now and I always think of how much more interesting what they’re eating is, compared to what kids eat in other places. Thanks so much also for the quick and delicious fried chicken nuggets recipe! Bonus!
Lezlie – I don’t know, I think that might describe you: you’re no-nonsense, don’t claim to be domestic, fun, and zesty.
Algis – I’ve thought about it…but I think the meatballs would get moldy : - )
From the Midwest – Glad you agree with my theory!
rita – My boyfriend likes to repeat this French saying: Cooking is learning how to accommodate leftovers. Sounds like how you can be resourceful with anything in the kitchen. I imagine your cooking though with an inimitable flair, just like your writing.
Thanks for reading and sharing your thoughts, everyone!
http://open.salon.com/blog/larry_lauerman/2011/02/17/better_food_as_a_result_of_james_joyce
Thanks again for the interesting personal open call!
Bellwether - I think that variety in what you eat and cook describes you very well. You can write such emotional things, but at the same time there's always that spice of laughter and wit. I think the eating exotic food shows something about the place you live and how you're happy to be a part of it.
Larry - Thanks for the link, and for your detailed response to my question!