Seven Fishes Blog | Italian Christmas, Italian Food and Traditions

Spicy Cioppino

Here's a great, healthy version of a classic Italian dish, Cioppino—enjoy!

Courtesy of Eating Well:

San Francisco's Italian immigrants developed this stew to use the abundant local seafood. We've opted for farm-raised tilapia and scallops, but feel free to experiment with whatever is fresh.                         

Makes 2 servings, 2 cups each

4 small (1- to 2-inch diameter) red potatoes, quartered
2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil, divided
1 tilapia fillet, diced (about 5 ounces)
4 ounces dry bay scallops (see Note), patted dry
1 small sweet onion, sliced
2 teaspoons Italian seasoning blend or poultry seasoning
1-2 teaspoons hot paprika
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
1 cup dry white wine
1/2 cup water
3 plum tomatoes, diced
2 tablespoons capers, rinsed (optional)
2 tablespoon minced fresh parsley (optional)

       

1. Place potatoes in a saucepan, cover with water and bring to a boil over high heat. Reduce heat and simmer until tender, 10 to 12 minutes. Drain.
2. Meanwhile, heat 1 tablespoon oil in a large saucepan over medium-high heat. Add tilapia and scallops; cook, stirring once or twice, until just opaque, about 2 minutes. Transfer to a plate and cover with foil to keep warm.
3. Add the remaining 1 tablespoon oil and onion to the pan and stir to coat. Cover, reduce heat to medium-low and cook, stirring often, until lightly browned, 5 to 7 minutes. Uncover, increase heat to medium-high, add Italian (or poultry) seasoning, paprika to taste, salt and pepper; cook, stirring, until fragrant, about 30 seconds. Add wine, water and tomatoes; bring to a simmer. Reduce heat to maintain a simmer and cook, stirring often, until the onion is tender, 6 to 8 minutes. Add the fish, scallops, potatoes and capers (if using), return to a simmer and cook until heated through, about 2 minutes. Garnish with parsley, if desired.

             

TIP: Note: Be sure to request "dry" scallops (i.e., not treated with sodium tripolyphosphate, or STP) from your fish store. Sea scallops that have been subjected to a chemical bath are not only mushy and less flavorful, but will not brown properly.

     

 

Zeppole

I have zeppole on the brain today. Thank God for YouTube so I can relive the San Gennaro feast in New York.

-Mike

Stuffed pork tenderloin

Every once in a blue moon—not often enough—we'll make a a stuffed pork loin for dinner. Pork isn't my favorite meat, but this dish still makes the top five on my list. Unfortunately, I don't now the exact recipe off the top of my head, but what I do remember is that we stuff the pork loin with spinach, parmesan cheese, mushrooms, garlic and a few different spices, roll it up and toss it in the oven with a couple of slices of onion on top (the semi-burnt onions are one of the best parts of the dish!).

Once at a restaurant here in Portland, my family and I had a pork loin that tasted exactly the same as our recipe. In fact, the restaurant served it family style and cut it right at the table. If ever you make it to the Northwest, try out Piazza Italia in the Pearl District in downtown Portland. Until then, I'll leave you with a recipe that I found online at TheOtherWhiteMeat.com. It's much different than my family's, but still sounds delicious (note: Italian Spice is the generic way of saying a mixture of dried oregano, basil leaves, parsley, garlic powder, rosemary and salt).

-Mike

Italian-Stuffed Pork Tenderloin

2 whole pork tenderloins, about 1 pound each
2 tablespoons butter
1 8-oz. carton fresh mushrooms, chopped
1/2 cup sliced green onions
1 6-oz. package long-grain and wild rice mix, cooked according to package directions and cooled

1 cup chopped pecans, toasted
2 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley
2 teaspoons dried Italian seasoning
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 10-oz. container refrigerated low-fat Alfredo sauce OR refrigerated Alfredo sauce

3 tablespoons Chardonnay OR other dry white wine

Cooking Directions
Heat oven to 425 degrees F. Cut lengthwise slit in each pork tenderloin, cutting to but not through the other side. Set pork aside. Melt butter in large saucepan over medium heat. Add mushrooms and green onions; cook until tender. Remove from heat. Stir in cooked long grain and wild rice mix, pecans and parsley. Set aside 3/4 cup of the rice mixture. Spoon remaining rice mixture into 1 1/2-quart casserole; cover and set aside. Divide 3/4 cup rice mixture between slits in pork tenderloins, spreading evenly in slits. Close slits; secure with toothpicks.

Stir together Italian seasoning and salt in small bowl. Sprinkle evenly over top of pork tenderloins. Place pork tenderloins on rack in shallow roasting pan.
Roast tenderloins, uncovered, for 25-30 minutes until internal temperature is 160 degrees F. Bake casserole of rice mixture alongside tenderloins. Meanwhile, for sauce, combine Alfredo sauce and Chardonnay in medium saucepan. Cook and stir over low heat until bubbly. To serve, spoon rice mixture onto serving platter. Remove toothpicks from tenderloins. Cut pork tenderloins into 1-inch-thick pieces; arrange on rice mixture on platter. Serve sauce with pork and rice mixture.

A duet with Dino and Tony

Just came across this duet with Dean Martin and Tony Bennett on YouTube, so I thought I'd share it with you guys. I grew up listening to these two, as well as Frank Sinatra of course, and it's really great to see a video of them performing when they were in their prime. I'm only 23, so all of them are obviously from a different era than I, but their music is timeless and great. It still is pretty much the only stuff you'll hear on the radio at my parents house.

It's interesting to think about today's music and how, one day in the future, we'll be thinking "this song is a classic" about many of our favorites. Actually, I can't imagine ever saying that about a Ben Harper or Incubus song, or any other great songs from some of my favs. Of course, they're of a different genre. Still, the new class of crooners (Harry Connick Jr., Michael Bublé, etc.) don't seem to be as memorable as Tony, Dino, Franky Boy and the rest were, and still are.

-Mike

"Postcards" nominated for an Eisner Award

It's been some time since I posted on here about participating in the cool comics anthology "Postcards: True Stories That Never Happened." The book came out last year from Villard and received a lot of critical acclaim. I was particularly gratified to be singled out, along with artists Brian and Brendon Fraim, for our story "The Midnight Caller: Holiday in Hades," by USA Today. 

Well, the icing on the cake was the announcement of a nomination for "Postcards" in the prestigious Eisner Awards for Best Anthology.  Congratulations to Jason Rodriguez, the book's editor and driving force.  Jason worked like a dog promoting the book and this acknowledgment is well-deserved for him and the cast of talented creators he assembled. 

When "Feast" was nominated for an Eisner it was a wonderful affirmation for something that took a long time and great leap of faith by a lot of people starting with the artists, Ed Piskor and Alex Saviuk, our art director, Mike Anderson, and continuing on through my brother Jeff, our wives, and many other supportive people who worked so hard to make the festival and the upcoming film a reality.  It's so hard to have your voice heard above the din of so much entertainment competing for audience attention.  As such, to be singled out in the form of a nomination is very validating.  Here's a link for more on "Postcards: True Stories That Never Happened."

- Bob
 

Pickled ramps?

Several years ago, John Sayles made a great film, called "MATEWAN," about the labor struggles of West Virginia coal miners trying to achieve fair working conditions shortly after World War I.   There's a nice moment in the film when some of the local people, who are descended from the early settlers, introduce some Italian immigrants to "ramps," which one Italian lady promptly labels "garlic."  Well, ramps aren't garlic—they are actually a wild leek—but they can and do offer an interesting taste not dissimilar when properly prepared.  They grow wild in the forests of Appalachia and are usually ready to harvest in mid-April through late May.   From what I understand, they've actually become something of a recognized delicacy in fancy New York restaurants.  Anyway,  what strikes me every time I watch "MATEWAN," during that moment when the ramps are introduced, is how swiftly Italian immigrants seemed to make use of what existed here naturally. I know my great-grandparents dug native plants to augment their larder, although I can't say for sure if ramps were among those plants. However, I do know their son, my grandfather, John Oliverio, loved ramps. In fact, when my mother was young, my grandfather transplanted ramps from the wild to his yard so that he could harvest them more conveniently.

Last night, I took my mother-in-law for a ride in the country to my own personal ramp patch to dig up a few.  I tend never to hit the patch very hard—usually only taking about three dozen plants—which hardly makes a dent in the crop.  We brought the ramps home and washed them, cut away the bulbs from the leaves (which we froze to use in months to come as an additional seasoning for pesto).  Then we prepared a simple pickling solution—equal parts vinegar and sugar which we heated up (but didn't boil).  Then we mixed the ramp bulbs with the solution in a small jar and placed it in the refrigerator (no need to dip in boiling water) in anticipation of enjoying them in a few weeks.  This is my first attempt at pickling ramps (usually we fry them up with eggs and potatoes and peppers ), but given my love for pickled eggplant I thought this might be worth a try, if for no other reason than it gives me the chance to tap into a little bit of the culinary pragmatism of my ancestors.  What's more, of late, I'm getting more and more interested in breaking away from the mass-produced.  I much prefer tramping through the woods, digging up native edible plants than sitting around the house.  And once prepared it seems like nothing tastes better than food you've either grown or procured from the wild.

I don't think I'm alone in this desire to have something more, well, authentic, I guess is the word I'm looking for.  Several folks I know in the area who are of Italian descent are building outdoor ovens in which to bake bread—much like their parents or grandparents did.  I'm hoping to do the same thing.  It might not be convenient, but I know for a fact it will taste better.

Back to ramps.  I know that here in West Virginia there's a ramp festival down in the charming little town of Helvetia—usually around the last weekend in April (I'm too lazy to check at the moment!)—it's nothing fancy but it is good fun, and more importantly the event still maintains an authentic country vibe.

I'll let you know how the pickled ramps taste!

-Bob

Commemorating the Monongah Mine Disaster

Recently, Shannon and I had the very good fortune to attend a lecture by Dr. Joan Saverino, who spoke about the terrible 1907 mine disaster in Monongah, WV.  I went to high school in Monongah and every day passed the historical marker commemorating this tragedy.  Many of the miners who died in the explosion were of Italian origin. Dr. Saverino did a compelling job of illustrating the deep impact the event had not only in the U.S. but in Italy as well.  I'm going to paste in the press release that West Virginia University ran on her presentation, and if ever you get the chance to hear her speak on the subject, please do not hesitate (and for the record I am furious with myself for not running this prior to the event).

-Bob   

Author to discuss Monongah mine disaster, Italian identity March 16 at WVU

MONONGAH MINE DISASTER — The worst mining disaster in U.S. history occurred on Dec. 6, 1907, when an underground explosion at Monongah in Marion County killed hundreds of miners.
Photo by: West Virginia Division of Culture and History

A discussion of the worst mine disaster in U.S. history and Italian-American identity will take place at West Virginia University Sunday, March 16.   

Joan Saverino will give the 3:30 p.m. presentation, “’Il Fuoco di Minonga’: The 1907 Mine Disaster, the Landscape of Coal, and the Making of Transnational Italian Identity in West Virginia.”   

The talk – sponsored by WVU’s Eberly College of Arts and Sciences and the Committee for the Preservation of Italian-American Heritage and Culture – will be in Durrett Hall of the Erickson Alumni Center on WVU’s Evansdale Campus. It is free and open to the public.   

Saverino will discuss the recent 100th anniversary of the Monongah mine disaster and the relationship between the people of Marion County and the mine victims, many of whom were Italians who had migrated from San Giovanni in Fiore, San Nicola dell’Alto, Falerna, Gizzeria, Civitella Roveto, Duronia, Civita d’Antino, Canistro, Torella del Sannio and other villages in Calabria, Abruzzo and Molise.   

The mine disaster occurred Dec. 6, 1907. Hundreds of men and boys lost their lives, leaving 250 widows and more than 1,000 children without support.   

Saverino will examine the relationships surrounding the disaster and ask a series of questions: What are the many associations of the immigrants who came and those they left behind? How are these relationships embodied in their adopted landscape in West Virginia and in that of their home country? What meaning does the historic mine disaster have for Italian-Americans in West Virginia, and what are its implications for a changing Italian-American identity in the 21st century?   

Saverino is the assistant director for education at The Historical Society of Pennsylvania. She attended WVU and earned a bachelor’s degree in anthropology and sociology in 1975, along with a master’s from The George Washington University in anthropology and a doctorate from the University of Pennsylvania in folklore and folklife.   

She is the author of many scholarly articles, including “An Appalachian Vignette,” published in Italian Americana; “Domani Ci Zappa: Italian Immigration and Ethnicity in Pennsylvania” in Pennsylvania Folklife; and “Memories in Artifact and Stone: Italians Build a Neighborhood” in Germantown Crier.   

Saverino’s presentation is supported by the Endowment for the Preservation of Italian-American History and Culture. The endowment – housed in WVU Foundation Inc. and administered through the Office of the Dean of the Eberly College of Arts and Sciences – supports a series of programs and activities which preserve and share the experience of early Italian immigrants to the United States.

Angie Scandale can sing!

Okay, full disclosure, Angie is my cousin.  She's from the part of our family that emigrated to British Columbia in the '60s.  I am blown away at her voice—and you will be, too, I think...

-Bob

San Giovanni in Fiore

Like many other Italian-American families living in North-Central West Virginia, mine emigrated from the Calabrian town of San Giovanni in Fiore.  Fortunately, very strong ties exist between the regions.  In fact, upon the observance of the 100th anniversary of the Monongah mine disaster, officials from San Giovanni in Fiore traveled to America to participate in the various ceremonies.  I stumbled across this site,created by a native of San Giovanni named Francesco Saverio Alessio. Well worth visiting if one would like to learn a little more about this rugged mountain town that was the source of so many Italian immigrants. Plus, there's some lovely poetry about San Giovanni written by another native, Rina Ferrarelli.  You can also visit this site for a more traditional informational site.

My Great-Grandmother's House

The other day I was back in the old neighborhood of Greentown and spent a few moments at my late great-grandmother's house.  To the casual passerby, it looks like a simple, somewhat dilapidated structure, with nothing remarkable about it, save perhaps a covered porch of sorts, created by having a portion of the house jut out over the above-ground basement.

The yard has been shorn of most all of the landmarks of my youth, in an effort to make it easier to care for.  The little metal gate that meets the sidewalk still stands - but the shrub row that flanked each side of it are gone. The pear tree remains and still produces fruit.  There is a large side yard—a full lot, actually—consisting of nothing but grass.  There is no trace of the miraculous garden that once filled the space to bursting with tomato and pepper plants and, of course, garlic.

As a kid it was my job to cut her grass. This was not hard to do, even if I did have to use one of those old push rotary motors (in other words, no engine).  But the yard was so filled with vegetables and flowers that she only had a small triangle of grass—maybe 12-foot per side—that needed cutting.

Right next door to her house was the Catholic Church, now closed. In fact, now closed with a "for sale" sign out front.

So how does all this change make me feel?  Sad? Sure. Nostalgic? Definitely.  But if I wallow in those feelings I think I do my great-grandmother—and all my ancestors—a disservice.  What did they struggle so hard for?  For things to stay exactly the same?  Or for their descendants to push ahead and to prosper?

The day I moved to California to go to film school, I stopped by the house to say good-bye to my great-grandmother.  She was sitting on the porch swing with her daughter, my great-aunt Katie.  I kissed them and said goodbye.  My great-aunt was emotional at my leaving but my great-grandmother took it in stride.  "Well," she said, "you gotta go where the money is.  Look at me.  I leave my mommy and no see her for 60 years.  No see her again.  That's the way it is."

That's the way it is.  That's the way life is.  These days when things get tough I often think about her words in that moment.  Now I know, she loved me dearly but she was painfully pragmatic in the way those of us less accustomed to adversity can only hope to imitate.   Her life presented many challenges and demanded tough choices and she met them head on.  I can't help but look in the mirror and ask: "is any of that toughness in me?"

I looked around the yard for a moment longer and then got back in my car.  It was sad, but not overly so.  I learned a long time ago that it's not places that define your past, but the people who filled them.

-Bob

Next up:  Inside the house.