Video posted to YouTube by lacotoba.

Fare went up to a dollar and a half as of midnight.” Line from Martin Scorsese’s film After Hours.

The movie is black comedy. Transporation fare increases and the general cost of living these days combined with a paucity of job opportunity is just sad. I believe NY MTA is up to $2.50, sometimes more. And New Yorkers aren’t happy, though they are promised no further fare increases until January 2011. There have been service cutbacks there just like everywhere else.  Here in the San Francisco Bay Area, transporation expenses have certainly increased as well. For all the fare increases, BART (Bay Area Rapid Transit) isn’t what it used to be. There’s even a website called BART Rage where citizens vent their frustrations. Amazing that it is now often cheaper to take your car than to hop a train or bus.  Doesn’t bode well for the environment.

Gone are the days . . .When I left New York in 1977, I think a subway token was fifteen cents and you could ride as long as you wanted and go anywhere the train lines went. You could ride all day if you wanted to. I remember a time when subway tokens were ten cents and bus rides where five cents with a student pass. Transportation costs took up a smaller percentage of personal income than it does these days. The system was pretty reliable and the service pretty consistent. A bum could beg dimes from two or three people and surf the subway system to get out of the elements, or stop at a coffee shop to buy a cup of joe, or even make a phone call. Can’t do a thing with a dime anymore. 

They say we’re in recovery. I think it’s a recovery that benefits the haves, not the have-nots. Today a homeless gentleman was begging for dollars on a busy street here, trying to get enough money to go from Silicon Valley to someplace in the East Bay, where he might find some friends or relatives with whom to stay until he could get reestablished. Formerly employed as an engineer and unemployed or underemployed for most of the past three years, he had hiked and hitched from Santa Cruz. We talked. I always talk to the homeless. I want to acknowledge their humanity. Ever notice how many people avert their eyes or look right through a homeless person? Is this a fear of vulnerability, like looking death in the face? “That could be me tomorrow.” Is it a fear of being asked for help? Or is it a deeply rooted and unconscious Calvinism? If you are poor and homeless, a have-not, you’re unworthy and therefore invisible. If you are a have, you’re visible. As we talked, I watched the homeless gentleman watch a woman throw away half a hamburger not three feet from where we stood. Why not just offer it to him?

I recognize that this is late-night stream-of-consciousness, but you get my drift … The question used to be, “Buddy, can you spare a dime?” Now it’s, “Can you spare five bucks?” I can’t, but I did.  So did a man who didn’t look like he could really spare it either. Thanks to the addition of his five, our homeless friend hopped a bus headed for hope while the haves walked on by.

Illustration of The Levant courtesy of Wikipedia under GNU Free Documentation License.

What is patriotism but the love of the food one ate as a child?  Lin Yutang

The second time around it was a mixed marriage composed of two ex-patriots: one from New York and one from the Midwest. The wedding was scheduled for December 27.  I think it was 1980, but memory fails.  I can no longer be sure. I met my new in-laws just in time to prepare Christmas dinner for them. Right after Christmas dinner, I started cooking for our wedding reception. I made all the things I love. Well it was our wedding after all. And I catered it myself.  So why not? We had a wine and cheese table, and a table with our beautiful wedding cake (bakery made, I’m not that crazy!), a king-sized Napoleon with whipped-cream frosting. The main buffet table was heavy-laden with several savory salads and assorted breads, a meat-and-cheese lasagna, two classic Quiche Lorraine, and what was essentially a Middle Eastern meza (the Arabic for starters or appetizers) including tabouli, baba ghanouz, hummus bi tahini,  stuffed grape leaves, pickled radishes, carrot salad and so on. My mother and son (New Yorkers) loved it. My new and properly re-educated husband loved it. Our California friends were in heaven; but alas, the Midwest contingency was none too pleased.

The husband-du-jour and I didn’t leave for our honeymoon until after my new in-laws left for their home in Iowa.  As I came downstairs the morning after the wedding, I overheard my father in-law talking in the kitchen. “I’d give anything for a steak, baked potato, and a simple salad with ranch dressing,” said he.  Later I told my husband, “We have to take your folks to a steak-house tonight.”  

“Why?”, he asked.  ”The refrigerator is loaded with food.”  

“Exactly,” I replied.  ”That’s why we have to take them out.”

Lesson learned:  Good food is generally that which we ate growing up. What follows is one of my favorite dishes from my childhood in the “melting pot.”

Studded with chopped green olives and scented with traditional spices of the Levant, this dish is heavenly with a brown rice pilaf, a small side dish of leban (plain yogurt),and a dinner salad of chopped vegetables. 

Public domain photograph of Fattoush courtesy of Wikipedia.

Fattoush is a Lebanese dinner salad made of mixed chopped vegetables, chopped spearmint leaves, fried pieces of khubz ‘arabi (peta bread), and dressed in a light-lemon or a red-wine vinaigrette.

Levantine Chicken, Gluten-free

The recipe

Serves four

• 1 3-4 lb. organic, free-range chicken, cut into eighths
• 2 tablespoons of olive oil
• 1 medium yellow onion, chopped
• 3 cloves garlic, minced
• 1 teaspoon fresh ginger, grated
• 1/8 teaspoon turmeric
• 1 1/2 cups homemade or store-bought chicken stock, gluten-free
• 1 teaspoon sweet paprika
• 1 teaspoon ground cumin
• 6 tablespoons of lemon or lime juice
• 1 cup green olives, pitted and chopped

Sauté the onion in the olive oil until it becomes transparent.  Add the garlic. Continue sautéing on moderate heat, being careful not to burn the garlic.  Stir pretty constantly. When the garilic is tender, add the chicken, the stock, and the ginger and turmeric.  Mix well and heat to a simmer. Then cover and simmer for approximately 35-40 minutes on a medium heat. Turn the chicken about every 10 minutes. When the chicken is tender and cooked through, remove it from the pan. Add the rest of the seasonings to the pan, stir well, and taste and adjust as appropriate.  Simmer for a good fifteen minutes so the sauce becomes thick and piquant. Return the chicken to the pan.  Heat through.  Remove to a serving platter, pour the sauce over it, and sprinkle with the chopped olives.

Photograph of a Turkish Coffee Cup courtesy of Turkish Gift Bazaar.

Coffee should be black as hell, strong as death, and sweet as love.” a Turkish proverb.

Recipes for making both Turkish and Lebanese coffee here ,naturally wheat-and-gluten free.

Public domain photograph courtesy of Wikipedia.

Picture it.  Brooklyn. A Lebanese restaurant someplace on Atlantic Avenue.  1958. We had recently seen the movie, Gigi, starring Leslie Caron.  You might remember that in the early scenes she wore a wide-brimmed straw hat with a ribbon tied in a bow and trailing down her back.  I had such a hat and suffered the illusion that I looked just like Gigi in the film. This illusion was strongly supported by the fact that Gigi was my childhood nickname. I might have felt pretty and even glamorous and certainly rather grown-up, but I would soon be relieved of my illusions.

First my mother allowed one of the restaurant patrons – an artist – to draw a picture of me. Much to my dismay all he saw and drew was a scrawny olive-skinned kid with a rather gauche hat that sat too far back on her head. Nothing at all approaching the light, elegant, grown-up beauty of Ms. Caron. Then our distant cousin, Julia, the restaurant owner, worked her special magic, predicting the future by interpreting the designs formed by the thick coffee sludge left in a cup after drinking Turkish or Lebanese coffee. Julia would provide this serve, “reading” coffee grounds, for her favorite (i.e., frequent) patrons. My special treat on going to Julia’s was to be allowed to have one cup of Lebanese coffee with mybaklava. On this day, Mom let Julia do a reading for me. It had none of her usual romantic niceties: “You are like the sun and the moon. He is the sun that warms your heart.  You are the moon that reflects his strength.” Or, “I see a key. Many doors will open for you. And, see there?  There are two bells entwined with a string.  There will be much love shared.”  No. No.  No such thing for me. For me there was: “See that, Gigi. Two books.  You must keep up your studies over the summer or there will be trouble come September.” 

My mother and grandmother never did readings to my knowledge, but I have seen them done when visiting.  As with Julia, I think in many families it was simply entertainment. Some women (I’ve never seen a man read grounds) are clearly just having fun with the custom.  At other times it seemed to me that the woman doing the reading was truly intuitive and using the grounds – much like some people use tarot cards – as a means to focus.  Like crystal gazing, it’s a form of scrying.

As I have seen it done, the procedure is this:  Once the coffee is finished, the cup is covered with the saucer and turned upside down for a minute or two and the grounds are allowed to drip down the sides.  When the cup is righted, the reader reads the design formed by the grounds as they dripped down the sides.  She reads around the inside of the cup in a clock-wise fashion beginning and ending with the point at which the handle is attached. Some women are quite eloquent even if not truly intuitive and this gift alone can make for an amusing experience.

Public domain photograph of baklava courtesy of Wikipedia.

Lebanese coffee and baklava go so well together, and the memory of coffee readings was triggered for me when I read that today is National Baklava Day.  Well, you know, our manufacturers will do anything to promote their goods. Even Mother’s Day and Father’s Day were created for marketing purposes.  I haven’t worked out a satisfactory wheat-and-gluten free recipe for the phyllo dough necessary to make baklava, so I am not yet prepared to post on it. However, for those who can eat wheat-and-gluten products, I encourage you to try a traditional recipe for baklava using store-bought phyllo.  Don’t be intimidated. Phyllo dough is easy to work with.  Your homemade version will be lighter and so much more moist than the manufactured thing.  Note how syrupy the baklava looks in the photo above. That is how it should be.

Photograph of Chinese Kitchen by Peter Griffin courtesy of publicdomainpictures.net.

In Chinese food, the harmony of visual appearance, aroma flavour and texture come together in yin-yang unity. The Chinese favour the creative interplay of fresh ingredients from land, sea and air blended with an amazing assortment of sauces.” The-Chinese Food.com

I’ve had this recipe in my family cookbook since 1972 or ‘73.  The reason I remember when it landed with us is because it’s from Hunan Provence and until The Hunan Restaurant opened in 1972 in Manhattan our  Chinese population was largely, if not exclusively, from Guandong Provence.  Hence our only experience of Chinese language and cooking was Cantonese.

I did a search for The Hunan Restaurant and find that there are a number now in New York, but I don’t think any are the original. The first was a big hit rating an article by Raymond A. Sokolov in the New York Times. This recipe is from that article. There are a number of ingredients, but it is easy to prepare.  The only adaptions I have had to make to accomodate a wheat-and-gluten-free diet are the omission of monosodium glutamate and the exchange of wheat-free tamari sauce for dark soy sauce. Given the recipes origin, I have always been stumped by the use of peanut butter in this recipe, but it works . . . unless you’re allergic to peanuts.  

Hacked Chicken

This appetizer recipe

serves four 

• 1/2 lbs. chicken breast, boned and skinned
• 2 tablespoons of smooth peanut butter
• dark sesame oil
• 1 tablespoon wheat-free tamari
• 1 tablespoon rice vinegar
• 1 1/2 teaspoons cayenne pepper
• 1 1/2 teaspoons crushed red pepper flakes
• 1 1/2 teaspoons fresh ginger, minced
• 1 1/2 teaspoons scallions, finely chopped
• 1 1/2 teaspoons fresh garlic, minced
• 1 /12 teaspoons fresh coriander, chopped
• 1 tablespoon brown Szechwan peppercorns
• 1 cup peanut oil

Place the chicken breast in boiling water and leave it for five minutes. Remove it and pull it into narrow strips, about three inches long and one-quarter inch wide. 

In one small bowl, combine the peanut butter with a tablespoon of sesame oil. Blend until smooth. Add the tamari and rice vinegar and blend.  In another small bowl, mix the cayenne pepper and the red pepper and blend to moisten with a bit of sesame oil. Add this the peanut butter mixture along wit the ginger, scallions, garlic and coriander and blend well.

Heat the peanut oil to 300 degrees and fry the peppercorns for about fifteen minutes.  Add 1 1/2 teaspoons of this oil to the peanut butter mixture.  You can save the rest of the oil for other Chinese cooking adventures. 

Pour the sauce over the chicken strips and mix to cover.  Serve on small, flat dishes.

Video posted to YouTube by davinci5152

This is a Halloween tale of Brooklyn, where anything can happen and usually does.”among the opening titles to the Frank Capra movie, Arsenic and Old Lace.

Set in Brooklyn, New York (the center of the universe) in 1941, this Halloween movie is the funniest of all time.  The snip above doesn’t begin to give an idea of the hilarity to come. Starring Cary Grant and Priscilla Lane, it is based on the Joseph Kesserling play, which ran from January 1941 through June 1944.  Jean Adair, Josephine Hull, and John Alexander who starred in the play were released to act their parts in the movie.  And, no – I don’t remember that – my mother told me. Boris Karloff played the evil brother in the play.  He was one of its big draw and could not be released for the movie. Hence Raymond Massey got the role.  Some of the fun and several quirky quips in the movie reference that switch.

The story is about a theatre critic (Mortimer Brewster) who is also a critic of marriage.  He finally succumbs to the charms of the young woman who lives in Brooklyn right next door to his two aunts and a cemetary (Gravesend maybe?). The aunts, as it happens, very kindly murder lonely old men and bury them in the basement  of their home.  The “weapon” of choice is elderberry wine laced with arsenic. The aunts are helped with the burial chores and ceremonies by Mortimer’s brother Teddy, who thinks he is Theodore Roosevelt.  When Mortimer finds out what’s been going on and evil brother Jonathan arrives on the scene ready to kill Mortimer and put the aunts’ at risk, hysteria breaks loose.

Added value for Brooklynites and/or B-ball fans: You get a glimpse of the old Brooklyn Dodgers in the opening scene.

You can watch the entire move at hollywoodclassics4. 

I’ll take humor over horror any day.  This will be my Halloween treat tomorrow . . . You?

Video posted to YouTube by videomix22.

Photograph courtesy of Wikipedia under GNU Free Documentation License.

It requires more strength to be gentle, so it’s the everyday encounter of  life that I think we’ve prepared children for and prepared them to be good to other people and to consider other people.” Bob Keeshan aka “Captain Kangaroo” and “Clarabell“

I believe Bob Keeshan, a New York boy who attended Fordham University, kept Captain Kangaroo (a children’s show) alive on TV for forty years.  His gentle manner and respect for children lives on in the hearts of boomers.  I think we all watched him weekday mornings before leaving for school. I would sip my Red Rose tea (with two spoons of sugar) and savor my two slices of white-bread toast with butter and cinnamon sugar along with the Captain, Mr. Greenjeans, moose and the others. For this Brooklyn girl, Captain Kangaroo was fine stand-in for a mostly absent dad.  

Among the many lessons Mr. Keeshan taught in his Captain persona was that it’s okay to be silly, to laugh, and to have fun . . . as long as it’s not at anyone else’s expense. He was a gentleman of the old school, wise and gracious, like Perry Como and Fred Astaire . . . different talents, of course, but the same kind of sensibility. Once upon a time in Brooklyn, I had uncles and cousins who were the same way, gentle and gentlemen. One can’t help but appreciate the caliber of such men when so often confronted with the callous and the coarse.

This post is dedicated with appreciation to Bob Keeshan and to all the gentle, gracious men I have known, including and especially, my son.

Photograph source unknown.

In the process of moving, packing, arranging for a moving company, all that good stuff.  Should be back to a regular writing schedule by the middle of next week.

Photograph courtesy of PD Photo.org

Among the brick pots, buckets, and rakes

A row of inverted grape leaves climbs to a pale green

“The Sea-Garden, “ Fanny Howe,  Selected Poems

My grandmother and my Lebanese aunts did lots of traditional cooking, but my mom didn’t.  So we made periodic trips to Atlantic Avenue to eat at Julia W’s Lebanese restaurant where we’d have hummus bi’ tahini, baba ghanouz, tabouli, kibbi, and beautifully-made plump-and-juicy stuffed grape leaves. Julia was a distant cousin, what some Americans would call a “shirt tail” cousin. Invariably, after our meal, we would move on to shopping for imported goodies at Sahadi Fine Foods, which I believe in those days was simply “Sahadi Bros.”  Back then, lots of foods were sold in bulk, mostly from large oak barrels.  Sahadi’s was pretty posh, as I remember, polished and pristine.  But, other of the small, family owned groceries were also intriguing for the wonderful pungent scent, a combination of olives, spices, and fresh breads, and well-scrubbed wooden floors covered with saw dust.

I have always loved grape leaves, not only for the flavor but for the example of using a resource so efficiently.  No waste. Use both the fruit of the grapevine and use the leaves.  Wonderful! Though often made with lamb or beef, stuffed grape leaves are just as delicious without meat and naturally wheat-and-gluten free.  

Since I avoid white rice, I started experimenting a few years ago with brown-rice stuffed grape leaves. They didn’t come out well the first few times.  I stuck with it.  There had to be a way. After all,it would not be unreasonable to assume that once-upon-a-time the stuffing was always made with brown rice, before we started fooling so much with our food.

With time and perseverance, I finally did it and love the results.  Wish I could share some photographs of my own, but the camera died.  So here’s the recipe.  Hope you will try it and like it too. Stuffed grape leaves can be served with a soup or salad, as part of a mezze, or as a snack food.  Once it’s prepared, it’s a good gluten-free lunch-on-the-run along with a bit of plain soy or dairy yogurt and a piece of juicy fresh organic fruit.

Since I have never grown grapes, I always buy my grape leaves in jars.  These days you can find them in the regular grocery or on-line and don’t have to search for a Middle Eastern grocer.  A small (one pound) jar will make about 32 stuffed grape leaves.  A large (two pound) jar will make about 56.  In our neighborhood, prepared stuffed grape leaves are quite dear, about two dollars each.  You can make your own for much, much less than that.

If you have never made your own, please note that your home-cooked grape leaves will not be uniform in size in the way prepared ones are. The jars of grape leaves will have several different sizes in them. No matter.  Stuff them all.  The flavor will be the same.  Outstanding! This recipe is more in the Greek manner than the Lebanese. Enjoy . . . .

The recipe

Serves twelve as an appetiser

2 cups of Pacific Organic Vegetable Broth, which is gluten-free

1 cup of organic, short-grain brown rice

1/2 teaspoon sea salt

1 clove of garlic, minced

3 shallots, minced

1/3 cup of green onions, rough chopped

1/4 cup of fresh spearmint leaves, minced

1/4 cup of fresh parsley, minced

1/4 cup fresh dill weed, minced

4 teaspoons of fresh lemon juice (Meyer when you can get them)

1/3 cup sultana (yellow) raisins, rough chopped

¼ cup pine nuts (easily omitted if you have allergies), rough chopped

Olive Oil, best quality you can afford

1-1 lb. jar of grape leaves

Assemble (a video follows) and bake the stuffed grape leaves:

Using the vegetable broth and salt, prepare the brown rice according to package directions.

While the rice is cooking, lightly sauté the onions, shallots, and garlic in oil and reserve.

Remove the grapes from the jar.  Separate them, rinsing them all under cold water           

When the rice is cooked, mix the rice with all the ingredients except for the grape leaves and olive oil.

Lay out a leaf at a time.  Place a teaspoon in the lower, center of the leaf. Adjust how much you put in each leaf according to its size. Fold the bottom over the stuffing and then fold in the sides.  As you finish each one, place it in a small casserole that has a cover to go with it.  Once you have all the grape leaves stuffed, drizzle some oil lightly over the top.  Cover with foil and then the casserole lid.  Bake for ten minutes in an oven preheated to 350 degrees.   Cool to room temperature before serving.

I have uploaded (or downloaded???) a video in which you will see how to stuff the leaves.  This lady is preparing the grape leaves using white rice.  Consequently, the rice is uncooked.  She will cook it on the stove top, probably layering the smaller leaves (unstuffed) in the bottom of the pot to keep the larger, stuffed grape leaves from burning.  I have found that this technique (the same as my grandmother’s) does not work well with raw brown rice.  Hence, I devised the method described above.  Please also note, mention is made in the video of taking care that the rice mixure doesn’t burst out of the rolled leaves. That’s because raw rice is placed in the leaves and room must be left for it to expand.  When using my revised method described above, this is not a concern.

This video was posted to YouTube by RioJoes

Photograph by PD Photo.org

Lasagna is both a noodle and a dish and is derived from the Greek word lasanon. Popular all over the world, lasagna is made in many different ways. From meats and vegetables, to different kinds of sauces and cheeses, lasagna is a favorite dish for many people.” Jace Shoemaker-Galloway, in the July 17, 2009 issue of the San Francisco Examiner

I have such an unrelenting food-trivia tracker, that I don’t know how I missed National Lasagna Day . . . or Month, your choice.  It finally crossed my radar while I was checking my favorite Brooklyn picture blogs. I haven’t found any official source of information.  Well, after all, what industries could claim it?.  So many . . . pasta makers, tomato growers, cheese manufactures, purveyors of frozen foods, spice growers, and the restaurant industry.  Perhaps there are too many players for any one to lay a claim. The articles and postings I’ve found are inconsistent with regard to length.  Is it a one-day celebration or a month-long celebration?  I guess it depends on the depth of your devotion. At any rate, I doubt that Brooklyn needs an official day to celebrate this wonderful ethnic dish.

I’m surprised that whomever started this tradition, scheduled it in July.  Too hot!  A good, properly made lasagna takes hours to prepare.  Although there are shortcuts. One innovation layers ravioli for what is certainly a quick – and probably a tasty – alternative.

I used to make a “mock lasagna” in the summer time. I would gather together some of my own frozen tomato sauce or some prepared sauce,  full-fat ricotta, hard mozzarella, Ronzoni ochi de lupo (a wonderful, large macaroni), and various spices. I’d chop the cheese, cook the pasta, and warm the sauce.  Then I’d put all the ingredients together in a large pot on a medium gas, stirring well until the mozzarella was melted and the lasagna was hot.  Not particularly attractive, but the flavor was right. Add a green salad, some vino for the husband du jour, and we were set to go. It was quick.  The kitchen remained bearable.  I never had any complaints. This was all before I learned that I am allergic to wheat-and-gluten, and long before my doctor restricted me to two one-half cup servings of grain-derived foods a day.

As I look back, I don’t think I’ve ever encountered a lasagna I didn’t like; but, quality ingredients and a good, classic, homemade meat-sauce, produces the best product. This means using homemade or artisan noodles, fresh high-quality cheeses, fresh herbs and spices, a variety of meats, good extra-virgin olive oil, and your own garden tomatoes or canned Italian plum tomatoes with basil. A superior lasagna requires a willingness to invest considerable time and money for something that will be immensely enjoyed, but pretty quickly polished off by family and guests, not to mention you.

My childhood and youth were rich in good cooks. A significant number of them were from Italy or were first generation Americans of Italian decent.  My schoolmate, Fran V., and her mom made trays of lasagna on a regular basis and brought them from their home in Rego Park, Queens to our convent school in Brentwood, Long Island on Sunday afternoons. Mrs. V. would use imported noodles, which had a wonderful bite.  Her sauce and her lasagna included a lot of delicious pork sausage with fennel seed.  Mrs. D., another friend’s mother, lived near the Russian embassy in Glen Cove, Long Island.  She would always stud a large white onion with cloves and put that in her sauce as it simmered, removing it before serving. Nice flavor.  

Everyone did something that made their sauce uniquely theirs.  Some used wine. Mrs. D. felt there should be some heat and added dried red pepper.  My high school sweetheart’s mom didn’t agree.  She added a pinch of sugar to her sauce. One family added cinnamon, which strikes me as quite a Greek thing.  Most added nutmeg to their ricotta. I knew women who thickened their sauce through long-hours of simmering.  Other’s speeded the process by adding a can of tomato paste.  I think the latter makes for a highly acid sauce.  I have found through time that the addition of meatballs with their breadcrumbs serves well as a thickening. Everyone used Locatelli brand Romano. No dry, tasteless cheese from little, round, green containers.

My Aunt Mildred (see also the post on Roman Egg Drop Soup) was the best of the Brooklyn cooks.  She was a first-generation Italian-American. She used chicken in her sauce along with the other meats.  The meats included a small tenderloin of pork, Italian pork sausages (sweet and hot) and braciole (top round, sliced thin and pounded, rolled around a savory filling, and tied with cotton string).  Meatballs were standard additions to everyone’s meat sauce, and my Aunt Mildred’s were the gold standard. They were made from beef, sometimes from a combination of beef, pork, and veal. Generally eggs, seasoned Italian breadcrumbs, generous amounts of fresh, minced parsley,and grated Romano were incorporated into the ground meat, which was then formed into balls and browned in a fry pan before going into the sauce to simmer. 

When assembling the lasagna, these wonderful old-world cooks would crumble meatballs and sausages and layer the crumbled meats in the lasagna along with the noodles, cheeses, and the sauce.  Most of the time, the sauce and the lasagna would be made a day or more ahead.  When this dinner was finally served, usually on Sunday, it started with a voluptuous vegetable salad with plenty of salty, oily olives .  Lindsey olives, which are dyed and taste like salt water, were never used. There was wine for the adults and water for the children. The meats were set out in a side dish. Extra sauce was served in a gravy boat. Big chunks of Locatelli Romano would be passed around the table along with a Muli Grater, enabling each of us to have freshly grated cheese on our noodles. There were always dense, fragrant slices of Italian bread fresh from small, local, family-run bakeries. Sopping up extra meat sauce with the bread was a must and a delight. Dessert might be a selection of pastries, or fresh fruit that had been macerated or simmered in wine, or Amoretti cookies. There was espresso coffee too, often with grappa or a slice of lemon peel.

Lasagna Day or Lasagna Month, it’s an interesting concept, but in the Brooklyn of my childhood, we didn’t need an event. Many, many Sundays were lasagna day. It was quite a regular thing. I think it has probably become more and more difficult for people to come up with the time and money for such memorable civilities.

THE BROOKLYN CANINE  COMPANIONS:

Photograph of Brutus from our family album.

“A kind of additional or subsidiary Deity designed to catch the overflow and surplus of the world’s worship . . .  The Dog is a survival — an anachronism.  He toils not, neither does he spin, yet Solomon in all his glory never lay upon a door-mat all day long, sun-soaked and fly-fed and fat, while his master worked for the means wherewith to purchase the idle wag of the Solomonic tail . . .” Ambrose Bierce, The Devil’s Dictionary

Photograph of Buddy and my son from our family album.

“A dog teaches a boy fidelity, perseverance, and to turn around three times before lying down.” Robert Benchley

THE CALIFORNIA  CANINE  COMPANIONS:

Photograph of Xiang Xiang’s Ah Man, better known as “Gus,” from our family album.

“My dog is worried about the economy because Alpo is up to 99 cents a can.  That’s almost $7 in dog money.” Joe Weinstein

Photograph of Feyd from our family album.

“How’s it going, Mr. Peterson?,” asks Woody in Cheers. “It’s a dog-eat-dog world, Woody, and I’m wearing milk-bone underwear,” responds Norm