Mother & Daughter

Husband & Wife

I normally chat with my mom every other night.  Chats we have while I make my dinner, or after I’ve already assumed the vertical position on my couch.  Talking to my mom is like eating a bowl of pasta with a side of warm eggplant parmigiana. She’s comfort food.  

The other night I was lying across my new chaise lounge, outfitted in my classic valentine’s day pajama bottoms and a wife beater - when I asked my mom, what were you doing when you were 32?

At the age of 32, Evelyn Grace Corrado had already popped out 3 kids.
I go numb from the waist down every time I think about this.

I was born five days after my mother’s 30th birthday and that same year, my oldest brother - Tommy,  was diagnosed with Juvenile Rheumatoid Arthritis. Her life changed. All of our lives changed.  

My mom way trumps me in the life experiences she had by my age.   Her mother passed when she was 10, she lost her father when she was 23, she married when she was 24, had her first child at 25, worked, cooked dinner every night and walked my brother back and forth to the hospital while my chubby ass complained about it.  I still remember cold mornings walking to Brookdale Hospital, holding my mom’s hand and begging her to leave me at home or buy me hot chocolate if she insisted I walk the mile to the hospital.  I also repeatedly asked her, why can’t you just learn how to drive?  I was mouthy, even at age 5.   

*To date, my mother doesn’t drive and neither do I.

At age 30 I was kissing dudes, making bad decisions and living life on my own terms.  Five days from my 32nd birthday my bad decisions are less frequent and more controlled (I sound like I’m talking about wearing adult diapers), making out with handsome chefs was so 2 years ago, and I’m still making life work for me - not anyone else.  

Today, mama turns 62 and she’s as fabulous, kind, generous, strong and caring as ever.   I don’t know anyone with such a pure heart.  I don’t know anyone with her amazing ability to forgive.  I hope I can one day be half the person she is.  

Our conversation took a lot of turns.  How’s Lou?  How’s Tom?  Did Daddy go back to the crazy dentist?  What’d you eat for dinner?  What’s your work schedule this week?  Have you been walking Josie?  If I see that dog and she’s chubby, I’m not going to be happy about it …     

Then, I asked my mom where she was the first time she met my father.  The question didn’t come out of nowhere; I was expressing my recent need to come home from work, shut down and snuggle with myself on my couch.  Which, frankly, doesn’t leave much time to date - so I put it on my mom.  I love love.  I was hankering for a story I already knew had a happy ending.  

I could hear the smile in her voice, the first time I saw your father was at Arthur Murray Dance Studio when he was training to be an instructor.  He was dancing.  I met him through Regina, we used to work together.      

I knew my dad took lessons to become a dance instructor, but had no idea when she first set eyes on Jerry Corrado - he was dancing.  The image in my mind:  Jerry in some ruffled pink button down, lamb chop sideburns, brown Italo-fro, cha-cha-cha-ing without a care in the world.  Jerry was a dapper gent.  Evelyn walks in with her 20 something stick thin body, but packing hips figure, and perfectly twsited brunette locks.  Their eyes meet.

On their first date they went to see The Godfather.  My mom and dad’s wedding song - The Godfather Love Theme - aka, Speak Softly Love.  

So Italian and awesome.   

My dad still draws giant hearts on all holiday cards he gives to my mom (and me), birthday’s and anniversary’s included.  My old neighbor, Neal, used to call my dad Barry White.  I just think of my dad as being similar to the man I’d like to meet and call my own - someday. 

I asked about food and family meals she had when she dated my dad.  Four star peasant food, served in a Brooklyn basement.  Growing up, her father owned a deli - but I got the feeling dinner with the Corrado’s was a whole new world of language, entertainment, family time and food.  She continued, I didn’t cook much until I met your father and met grandma.  

Typical.  Italian mother in law teaches daughter in law to cook.

We talked about grandma’s meatballs with the surprises.  Fried balls of pork, veal and beef speckled with raisins and pignoli nuts.  I loved the meatballs filled with the surprises.  My cousin Maria, not so much.  Me, fried balls with crunch and sweet stuffed in … oh, hey - gourmet!  

I mentioned to her that I had an eggplant haunting the bottom shelf of my refrigerator.  Fresh Direct overload.  I meant to grill it.  Then I mean to roast it.  Then I thought I might pickle, jar and store - my grandmother did that too.  But my mom went on about my grandma’s eggplant parmigiana.  I hadn’t made it in years, neither had my mom.  She lightly fried the eggplant, but the eggplant wasn’t coated in breadcrumbs - just flour - and then dipped in egg.  She and I talked about eggplant for a half hour.  How light it was, how she used so little cheese, but it was still perfectly gooey.  How she’d mash basil and garlic together to form a paste and put that in between every layer of fried eggplant, sauce and cheese.    

It was decided, that eggplant was getting fried and smothered in cheese and sauce.  

Happy Birthday, mom. 
I love you with my whole pasta pumping heart.

Love,

Tinamarie

Eggplant Parmigiana
makes an 8x8 pyrex dish 

Extra virgin olive oil
1 large eggplant 
1 - 1 1/2c. of homemade tomato sauce
5-6 cloves garlic 
10-12 large basil leaves 
8-12 oz fresh mozzarella (very thinly sliced)
4 eggs
1- 1/4 c. flour (season with salt and pepper to taste)  

-Preheat oven to 350 degrees
-Slice eggplant (skin on) in 1/2-3/4 inch round slices, sprinkle with salt and place on a baking sheet so water releases from the eggplant
-After 15-20 minutes, using a paper towel, pat the eggplant dry
-Add garlic and basil to a food processor, pulse until a paste is formed, and put aside
-Add flour to a shallow dish and season with salt and freshly ground black pepper
-In a separate shallow dish, beat eggs and put aside
-Place about 1/4 c. olive oil in a frying pan and heat over a medium low flame
-Begin lightly coating eggplant in flour, so each side is covered but not packed with flour
-Dip eggplant in egg and transfer to frying pan
-Fry eggplant until golden and turn (repeat)
-As eggplant is done frying, place on a dish covered with a paper towel so excess oil can be absorbed

For sauce, triple this recipe.  You can also substitue the fresh tomatoes with canned whole tomatoes or crushed.

-Arrange 1 layer of eggplant (each piece should slightly overlap) in an 8x8 pyrex dish 
-Sprinkle with garlic/bail paste, layer with thinly sliced mozzarella and spoon sauce over top (repeat)
-For this recipe you should have 2 layers of eggplant
-Bake in the oven for 30 minutes, until heated through and cheese is melted
-Serve as a side to pasta of your choice

Below photos, courtesy of Owen Young

I met Lily and Owen in a train station in Barcelona, back in 2010.  Lily and Owen were traveling with friends, Rose and John. We happened to be headed in the same direction - so together we went, Kiwis and an original Brooklynite, on the Funicular de Montjuic. We spent the day walking, touring the Joan Miro museum, talking food, New York, New Zealand, what we’d seen in Barcelona so far.  

Owen and I had the same camera, and we bonded over this.  We compared photos from our day trips and, of course, poured over every photo containing food. Lily had this special way of making me feel at home, and while we walked we talked about baking pans, spices and cooking.  John was quiet and intelligent - stating historical and military facts as we stood at the top of Montjuic Castle.  John was balanced by his wife Rose.  I knew Rose would be hilarious.  From the moment I saw her giant smile, and the way she instantly hugged me, I felt a connection.  The both of us tend to make wacky faces, cuss for emphasis when telling a story and enjoy posing for pictures.   After spending the day with her, I decided I wanted to grow up to be as smiley and forthcoming as Rose.  After spending the day with these incredible couples, I knew that I was meant to go on this trip alone; all so I could come back with a better sense of the things I really want in this life.

I’m so emotional right now.   

Since we weren’t sick of one another after spending hours on the top of a giant hill, we planned to meet at La Boqueria the following morning.  

We missed one another.  

My new friends went back to New Zealand and I didn’t have the opportunity to officially say goodbye. Lily and Owen have emailed weekly and follow my whereabouts on nomnoms.  These two are great travelers, wonderful parents, kind souls, good eaters and stellar cooks.  Over the past 2 years we’ve stayed in touch, and I recently had the opportunity to see them again.  We were able to share the meal that never was when were in Barcelona.   

Rose and John were very missed, so I’m hoping they’ll make it to New York - or I’ll make it to New Zealand -  sometime soon.

xo

Roasted Bell Peppers 

*for instructions on roasting peppers

2-3 T. extra virgin olive oil
2-3 cloves of garlic (sliced thinly)
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

-Roast peppers according to instructions
-Slice lengthwise and place in a bowl
-Cover with olive oil, garlic, salt and pepper
-Let sit in the refrigerator for 1-2 hours
-Serve with bread, use on sandwiches, salads, meats 

Eggplant Rollatini

*for simple red sauce instructions

1 large eggplant
2 c. ricotta
1/2 c. mozzarella
1/4 c. pecorino
10 basil leaves (chiffonade)
1 egg
Kosher salt, freshly ground black pepper and non-stick cooking spray

-Preheat oven to 350 degrees
-Slice eggplant, lengthwise into 1/2-1” slices
-Sprinkle with salt and set aside for 15 minutes (this will release the water from the eggplant so you can get a good grill)
-In the meantime, mix ricotta, mozzarella, pecorino, salt & pepper (to taste) together
-Beat the egg and combine with the mixture
-Fold in basil and put the aside 
-Coat grill pan (if you’re fortunate enough, your real grill) with non-stick cooking spray and let heat over a medium low flame
-Pat eggplant dry with a paper towel and place eggplant on the heated grill, cooking eggplant about 3-4 minutes on each side
-Coat large pyrex dish with non-stick cooking spray
-Place 1-2 T. of cheese filling in each piece of grilled eggplant and roll tightly
-As you’re working, transfer rolled eggplant to your prepped pyrex dish, seam side down (repeat until done)
-Spoon red sauce over top of eggplant and let bake in the oven for 15-20 minutes, until just heated through

Spaghetti Garlic & Oil with Toasted Breadcrumbs & Walnuts

1 lb. thin spaghetti
10-12 cloves of garlic (peeled, smashed and chopped) 
1 c. flat leaf parsley (chopped)
1 T. red pepper flakes (you can certainly use less)
1/2 c. extra virgin olive oil
1/3 c. bread crumbs
1/4 c. chopped walnuts
1 T. lemon zest
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
Pecorino for serving
Extra virgin olive oil for drizzling

-Place breadcrumbs and walnuts in a small pan, over a medium flame (watching not to burn), and toast until deep brown - about 4-5 minutes, and put aside
-To a small sauce pan add parsley, garlic, olive oil, sprinkle of salt, red pepper flakes
-Heat mixture  over a medium flame - just until you can smell the garlic - about 5-7 minutes
-Cook pasta according to instructions, reserving 1 c. of pasta water, and drain
-Toss spaghetti with garlic and oil (add some reserved pasta water if pasta looks dry)
-Sprinkle with breadcrumbs, walnuts, top with lemon zest, drizzle with olive oil
-Plate and serve with a heap of grated pecorino 

Deviled Eggs

Guacamole

Buffalo Wings

Recipes follow story

I’d like to make a public apology to my friends:

Thank you for coming over for Super Bowl, I really love having my tiny apartment filled with the scent of wings and friends.  

If you woke up mad bloated this morning, like me, which you probably did because we all ate the same food, then I’m terribly sorry. 

——————————————————————————————————-

Deviled eggs, guacamole and wings were only some of the bloat inducing food I served at my small Super Bowl gathering.  I also made spinach dip, you know the one with the mayonaise, sour cream and the packet of Knorr or Lipton Vegetable Mix?  There’s enough salt in that shit to send you right to the ER upon a first spoonful.  Then Nan brought piggies in a blanket, and I can never resist nitrates masked in the buttery goodness of a Pillsbury Crescent Roll.

Now, I tried to balance out the salt by serving vegetables - but chips are just so much more desirable to munch on.  Celery does have a loud, healthy crunch, but it’s not and never will be a blue corn chip.   

This morning I woke up, walked straight to my refrigerator and downed lemon water like I was stuck on a desert all night with no access to hydration.  Then I got on my exercise bike in an effort to “sweat it out.” 

I went to sleep thinking I should’ve given real consideration to Glamour magazines healthy Super Bowl snack suggestions, but I have this thing about eating like a girl - I just can’t do it. 

I’m sure carrot stick houses glued together with hummus are delicious, but that’s what I eat every day.  I needed to eat like a boy. I needed salt.  For one night.    

Do men bloat?  So many of my man-child friends openly admit to eating like shit all the time.  How do you eat wings and drink beer as often as you do and still look hot?  You mustn’t feel hot, I know it.   

*While writing this post, my co-worker just walked by my cubicle admitting that he’s bloated today because of his massive wing consumption last night.  He ate 60 wings.  And a sub or something.  I can’t believe he’s alive and walking around today.  I’m stunned that I’m not passing by his bed in a hospital.  

Thanksgiving doesn’t even do me like those wings did, but I have to be honest - I’d probably roll the dice and do it all over again.  

Happy Eating (and then detoxing).

Deviled Eggs
makes 1 dozen

6 hardboiled eggs
2 T. Grey Pupon
1/4 c. mayonaise
1 tsp. white vinegar
Dash of cayenne
Sprinkle of salt (if you dare)
Paprika or Cayenne for topping 
Pastry bag (if you have one, if not you can pipe the mixture back in to the egg white by using a ziploc bag and making a small cut in one of the two tips at the bottom of the bag) 

 -Slice hardboiled eggs in half, lengthwise, and carefully remove yolks and place in a bowl and arrange egg whites on a plate and put aside
-Add all ingredients to the yolks and mix until smooth
-Place mixture in a pastry bag and fill each egg half
-Top with paprika and serve

Guacamole
serves 6-8

4 ripe avocados (slice lengthwise, pits removed and reserved, and cut into cubes)
6 campari tomatoes or 2 medium plum tomatoes
1 medium onion (diced)
2 jalapenos (seeds removed and minced)
Juice of 1 large lime
Salt to taste
Cilantro (optional)

-Add all ingredients to a large bowl and mix well
-Place pits in the bowl with the guacamole (just warn your guests they’re in there) as they will prevent your guac from turning brown
-Serve with chips (use leftovers to top off scrambled eggs or indulge in Taco night, but I wont - too much salt)

Buffalo Chicken Wings

I pretty much followed this recipe for baked buffalo chicken wings from allrecipes.com but made some Nom nom tweaks as noted below. 

I’m not into frying, so finding a baked wing recipe was the only way I was going to let these chicken parts in my home.  I did half the amount of butter and added more hot sauce to the mixture I used to coat the wings.  Some reviews also noted a lack of flavor in these baked beauties, so I upped the salt (which I why I’m sitting here wanting to unsnap my bra right now), garlic powder and cayenne.  I also might’ve added a douse of onion powder because I thought - well, why not.

Here it is:
3/4 cup all-purpose flour
1 T. cayenne pepper
1 T. garlic powder
2 tsp. salt
20 chicken wings
1/4 c. melted butter
1 c. hot pepper sauce (such as Frank’s RedHot)
 
-Line a baking sheet with aluminum foil, and lightly grease with cooking spray
-Place the flour, cayenne pepper, garlic powder, and salt into a resealable plastic bag, and shake to mix. Add the chicken wings, seal, and toss until well coated with the flour mixture
Place the wings onto the prepared baking sheet, and place into the refrigerator. Refrigerate at least 1 hour
-Preheat oven to 400 degrees
-Whisk together the melted butter and hot sauce in a small bowl
-Dip the wings into the butter mixture, and place back on the baking sheet
-Bake in the preheated oven until the chicken is no longer pink in the center, and crispy on the outside, about 45 minutes
-Turn the wings over halfway during cooking so they cook evenly

Dear Crobin, my little pulpo -

Thank you for the Hail Mary, Filled My Face part of the title. 
You’re such a wordsmith.

Love,

Tbag  

Eggplant & Potato Curry

Recipe follows story

Inspired by my gastronomic jaunt to Canarsie, and many amazing conversations with a few shop and restaurant owners, I prepared a Guyanese holiday dinner.  The main portion of my meal was meaty, which wouldn’t necessarily work as two of my guests were vegetarians.

Orin Small, owner of Smally West Indian Market in Canarsie, gave me quite the education in Guyanese cuisine, how it was influenced by colonization as well as other cultures that made their way in.  He noted lo mein and fried rice as being two mainstays in Guyanese home cooking and vegetables such as eggplant, Chinese long beans along with okra and cassava are also popular.  I had no shortage of vegetables to choose from, but I needed to figure out a recipe that would qualify them under the umbrella of this meal.  Smally orchestrated my Guyanese meal and gave me the makings for solid vegetarian sides of plantains and coconut rice, but I was left to my own devices for the main fare.    

A trip to the Tastee Pattee Bakery & Grill, led me to opening my dessert choice to Jamaican rock cakes so the recipe for my vegetarian dish needn’t be exclusively Guyanese.  

I broadened my recipe search and found inspiration on caribbeanpot.com.

Chris, of caribbeanpot.com, is cooking up food memories from Trinidad and Tobago and his recipe for potato and eggplant curry looked promising.  

Eggplant is hearty and meaty and, when coupled with potatoes, makes a completely soul and belly stuffing meal.  It’s no hot pepperpot stew, but I hoped this vegetable pairing would provide my non-meaty friends with a substantially satisfying substitute.

I took Chris’ recipe and improvised based on ingredients I had in the house and bits of the main meal that I already had prepared.  

I swapped out water for coconut milk and instead of cooking the eggplant down with the potatoes, I scored it, stuffed it with garlic and roasted it in the oven until it was completely broken down.  Roasting any vegetable greatly increases its flavor.  The browner and more caramelized a vegetable, the more intense flavor you will get from it, so I started there.

And here’s where I landed …

Potato & Eggplant Curry 
makes 5-6 servings 

1 large eggplant
6 cloves of garlic (peeled and each clove sliced in thirds)
1/4 c. vegetable oil
3T. curry powder
2 tsp. all spice
1 large sweet onion (diced)
6 white potatoes (peeled and cubed)
1 14 oz. can of coconut milk + equal parts water (use water if necessary)
1 T. green seasoning
2 wiri wiri peppers (de-seeded)
Salt to taste 

-Preheat oven to 400 degrees
-Score eggplant and stuff with garlic
-Place eggplant on a baking sheet and roast for 45-50 minutes until eggplant is collapsed
-Put aside to cool
-Once cool, slice eggplant open and scrape out the flesh and garlic and put aside in a bowl 
-To a large skillet (that has some depth), over medium heat, add oil, curry powder and all spice  and mix until a paste is formed
-Add onions and coat with the curry, cooking for 7-8 minutes
-Add potatoes and toss to coat, cooking for an additional 10 minutes
-Add eggplant and toss to coat
-Pour in coconut milk and additional water if necessary (potatoes should be covered)
-Add green seasoning and spices and allow pot to simmer
-Lower flame, being careful to watch the pot so the potatoes do not stick to the bottom of the spot, and cook for 40-45 minutes until potatoes are fork tender  
-Serve over plain rice or eat alone  

Panettone French Toast

Recipe follows story

Christmas morning breakfast wouldn’t be complete without Panettone.

1st course:  Struffoli
2nd course: Panettone

Rather rum with a bit of Panettone.  My dad liked to hit the bottle early on Christmas Day.  A drinking man he was not, but rum on his Panettone - well, he would soak the cake through. 

Mom: J, stop it!  Cut it out!  No more!
Dad: Ev, why don’t you relax!
Mom: No, stop!

Dad, still pouring - honking slice of Panettone drowning in a pool of rum.  Eaten with fingers and washed down with coffee, I can still picture him - digging in - smiling - claiming his Christmas morning meal.   

Mom said dad exercised restraint this Christmas, he didn’t even wet the paper plate, Tinamarie.  He just used a little.

Nice work daddy.  
Although I did enjoy hearing you and mom duke it out, it must be nice to start the morning without an argument.   

And in a pretty home, out on Long Island, overlooking a big yard, filled with fat squirrels chasing one another - we too had drunken Panettone.  Although, my aunt, uncle, cousin and myself explored a different avenue for early morning rum consumption.

Tina: Aunt Deb, you think that’s enough rum?
Aunt Deb:  Yeah I think that’s enough.
Tina: Ok.  Ok.
Aunt Deb: Well, I don’t know - I think your dad would use more than that.
Tina:  You’re right, he would.

Aunt Deb was a little more heavy handed with the rum than she would’ve normally been, as we free poured booze in our egg wash and enjoyed some delectably drunken Panettone french toast.  

Delicious would be an understatement.

So, Christmas morning breakfast is dedicated to my dad, Gennaro Raphael Corrado, the man who likes a slice of Panettone with his rum. 

And while we ate breakfast and unwrapped gifts this morning, we already moved on to conversations revolving around, yes, more food.

Next year, I’m buying everyone matching sweat suits for the holiday.  Breathable and non-binding clothing is the only thing one should wear when marathon eating is going down.   

Panettone French Toast
makes 6 servings (2 slices per person)

1 Panettone cut into 12 1” slices
6 eggs
2 T. half and half
1 1/2 tsp. vanilla extract
2-3 T. of rum
2 tsp. cinnamon
1 tsp. nutmeg
4 T. butter
Griddle pan
Butter for serving
Warm maple syrup
Powdered sugar

-Heat griddle pan over medium flame with butter
-Beat together eggs, half and half, vanilla extract, rum, cinnamon and nutmeg
-Quickly wet each slice of Panettone, on both sides, and place on the hot griddle
-Cook until brown, about 3-4 minutes on each side
-Serve topped with butter, warm maple syrup and powdered sugar

Brown Gravy

Green Seasoning
Coconut Peas and Rice

Fried fish with green seasoning

Fried Plantains

Recipes follow story

One of my biggest crushes in this life, bigger than my crush on Kate Winslet, Hugh Jackman and apple crumb pie a la mode …

Aubrey Leander DeSilva.

Who is Aubrey Leander DeSilva?

My first crush.  Aubrey lived across the street from me and his house directly faced my back yard.  From his garage, and from my grandpas garden, we would talk on the phone, every day, after school.  He was 14 and I was 12.  He was Guyanese, he dj’d, he could dance - and I was chubby and self-conscious.  He would tell me I had beautiful hair, he would always ask me what I was reading whenever he saw me shuffling around with a book.  He was a dream.

When I stepped off of the L train and set foot on Rockaway Parkway 2 weekends ago, I wondered where Aubrey was.  I wished he would be waiting in front of the library for me, where he used to pick me up after school, but no such luck.

I walked past the library, past Canarsie High School, past bodegas where I would buy cigarettes for 10 cents a piece.

I arrived at Avenue L, where I would go to the movies, eat a slice, then eat an icey, then gobble down a pastry.  

This time around I didn’t have a slice, icey or pastry, my friend and I closed in a little West Indian market between 94th and 95th Street - that is after we stuffed ourselves on Jamaican food for lunch.

Orin Small is originally from Guyana and has lived in Canarsie for the past 16 years and he opened his specialty West Indian Food Market 12 years ago.  His motivation; one day  his wife sent him out to purchase mixed essence, and there was none to be found in the neighborhood.  Mixed essence contains vanilla, pear oil, almond oil, pineapple and caramel - among some other flavors  - and from what I learned, it’s a key ingredient in black cake or rum cake a traditional holiday treat enjoyed in Guyana and throughout the Caribbean.  Orin Small saw this as an opportunity to build a go to market in Canarsie, where residents could seek out ingredients to make meals they would always enjoy at home.

Standing close by Orin was his son, Roland.  Roland Small may only be 15 years old, but he knows a thing or two about making a sale and giving cooking tutorials.

For the child who is raised among family meals and a culture rooted in the tradition of cooking, sharing memories of food will always be the first thing on their mind.  Well, at least that’s the case for me and Roland.

I walked out of the store on Saturday night, learning how to make the Small’s version of Guyanese green seasoning, as they prepare it in their own home.

It was recommended that I use this green seasoning on any kind of white fish and then fry it up, until the rub gets crispy.  The Small’s enjoy their fried fish with coconut peas and rice or plantains, and they also shared their recipe for brown gravy.

Going back to Canarsie didn’t land me in the arms of my childhood crush, it brought me back to my only love - my kitchen.  

Brown Gravy
*makes 2 cups

1 T. oil
1 medium onion (diced)
1 bunch scallions (diced)
1/2 pint grape tomatoes (halved)
3 cloves of garlic (minced)
3 wiri wiri peppers (minced)
3/4 c. water
1 c. Miracle Seasoning

-In a medium saucepan, heat oil over medium flame
-Add onions and scallions, sauteing until fragrant about 5-7 minutes
-Add garlic, tomatoes and wiri wiri pepper - and cook for an additional 10-12 minutes, stirring frequently
-Add water
-Add Miracle Seasoning and bring to a boil
-Put aside until fish is fried and ready to serve

Green Seasoning  
*rub for 8 filets

1/3 c. dried broad leaf thyme
1/3 c. dried fine leaf thyme
1/2 c. fresh basil
4 scallions
2 cloves garlic
3 wiri wiri pepper
1/2 tsp. salt
8 pieces of butter fish (or any white fleshed fish filet)
3 T. vegetable oil

-In a food processor, fit with a steel blade, add first 7 ingredients and pulse until blended
-Rub green seasoning on fish and put aside
-Add oil to a large skillet, and place over medium flame, frying rubbed fish - in batches - cooking for approximately 3 minutes on each side (depending on thickness/size of filet)
-Top with brown gravy or serve on the side 

Plantain Chips
5 green plantains
Vegetable oil for frying
Kosher salt

-Soak plantains in scalding hot water for 7-10 minutes, for ease of peeling
-Fill a medium sauce pan, halfway, with oil and place over medium flame - allowing to reach 375 degrees 
-If you do not have a thermometer or a deep fryer, test the oil by tossing in a piece of plantain, and if it floats to the top within moments - you’re good to start frying
-Trim top of plantain, make a slice through the skin of the plantain - lengthwise - and remove skin
-Cut plantains in half
-Using a mandolin, if you have one, slice lengthwise into long strips
-If you do not own a mandolin, make lengthwise slices or slice plantain into thin rounds
-Add plantains to the hot oil, frying in batches, until deep golden brown 

Coconut Peas and Rice

2 c. parboiled rice
1 c. yellow split peas
1 14 oz can coconut milk
1 1/4 c. water
1 small onion (diced)
Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

-To a large stock pot, add peas, rice, diced onion, coconut milk, salt and pepper
-Place pot over a low flame and cover 
-Cook until all liquid is completely absorbed
-Serve with fried, herb rubbed, white fish

Radish Green Pesto 

*Recipe follows story

I invited Su over to try out one of my newest concoctions - radish green pesto - because I’d been thinking about it all weekend long.  

While I ambled home from the market, in a sweaty stupor, I thought:  Oh yeah, radish greens.  Instead of sauteing you, I’m going to make pesto out of you. Oh yeah.  Oh yeah, you dirty radish greens.  I’m going to clean you and make an oily, edible mess happen.  You will be reinvented.  And we’ll both be better for it.  

I have issues, and I take them out on my produce.
Sometimes I talk to my fruits and vegetables like we’re starring in the next big food porno…  

But…
Moving on…

I was also inspired by a pasta dish my brother ordered when we went out to dinner last week.  He had spaghetti mixed with peas, radishes and ricotta.  He shared a few mouthfuls with me, in the name of research.  It was light and delightful and really gave me something to think about…

Albeit being a pain in the ass sometimes, Tommy is a fine brother.  He’s pretty good about sharing his food.    

I thought a radish green pesto might be a nice way to tie in the peppery flavor of the diced radish and really make the dish come together so each bite would be slightly more elevated.  The spaghetti Tommy had was delicious, but the peas and radishes felt extraneous - like add ons - and not fully incorporated into the pasta as a whole.  Every bite was wonderful because it was bathed in ricotta, but I was thinking of how to make it better.  Instead of ricotta I introduced my boyfriend, MASCARPONE (with a little bit of acid).  For no reason other than the fact that I’m addicted to the stuff.  And because I used Mascarpone in Ina’s Spring Green Risotto and the creaminess was killer.  

MASCARPONE is also only to be pronounced with a strong Italian accent.
Like Giada, go heavy on the E. 
Mascarpone-eeeeee.

I was proud and excited over dinner.  I cooked out all of my worries and stress and sat down to eat with Su.

But our meal conversation took a scary turn…

All laughs and giggles…
I think not…

During dinner I shared a few life concerns with Su.
That of being sexless and single.

But, you know what’s worse than being sexless and single?

Being stalked.

I always make twisted jokes:  Hehehe.  Wouldn’t it be great if I had a stalker who ended up being hot and charming and hot and tall and hot and tall and charming and tall?

For once.

Someone tall?

I can’t spend one more moment outweighing or being taller than another man I date.
I don’t want to bench press you, I want a human jungle gym.  And I have no intention of losing any more weight or reducing my carbohydrate intake.  

But, unfortunately, hot, tall, rational, normal stalkers don’t exist.
They only exist in the sick female mind.  
I know you’ve thought about it too, so don’t read this and start with your silent judging - like you never thought about having a hot stalker.  

Stalker is a terrible word and implies creepiness, with reason.  Why I’ve been using the word all these years like something good was going to come out of it…

Well - lesson learned.  

I started telling Su that I was nervous because I was recently approached by my neighbor, we’ll call him Uncle Haris…

But before I continued to unravel my twisted tale of terror, I plated seconds.
We poured over Uncle Haris as we slurped up the second coming of the radish green pesto… 

It all began on a late March morning, when Uncle Haris told me I was beautiful, then asked me if I wanted a ride to the subway.  And just a few weeks ago, he caught me off guard and asked for my phone number.  I tried, 3 times, to deny the request - but he defeated me.  I broke down and gave it up - and when he texted to ask me out…

I lied.  
I said I was currently seeing someone, and it wouldn’t be right to go out on a date with someone else.  Uncle Haris doesn’t need to know the only thing I sleep next to at night is a king sized pillow - while I fall off into dreamland fantasizing about an 8 oz. container of cheese.  An 8 oz. container of cheese that goes by the name of Mascarpone.  

I was unsure as to whether or not I was being a bit hasty, deeming the man that lives 2 doors down from me a bit stalker-esque…

Then he asked me, again, if I wanted a ride…
And two days later, he texted to let me know he saw me walking down the street…

But Susana confimed  my sneaking suspicions.

Su gave me the time to tell my story and then chimed in.
You’re not going to believe this, he used to ask me if I wanted rides in his car too… 

Turns out my good friend has also been a victim of Uncle Haris’ antics…

I knew I was on to something.  
I’m not just neurotic, high on food and little bit reclusive…   

Susana used to live in my same apartment, so she also lived 2 doors down from Uncle Fitzpervert.

He used the same line on her:  I never realized I had such a beautiful neighbor …

That’s where it all started for her too…
I’m creeped out writing this… 

I asked Su if she wanted thirds of pasta.
She said no.
I could’ve kept going, but I stopped. 

As I thought about our similar encounters with Uncle Haris, I could have lost my radish green pesto…

Susana has a boyfriend, and she had a boyfriend at the time - who lived with her.
She said Uncle Haris would stare down Frank.
And Frank is burly and bald and fully tattooed.  
He could kick middle aged Uncle’s ass.

But Uncle would still insist on asking Su if she wanted a ride to the train…

Fortunately, our night ended on a lighter note.  We moved on from tales of stalking and closed with talking about weekend plans …
I walked Su halfway home, packed a giant tupperware of pasta - to bring to work the next day - and went to bed, holding my king sized pillow tightly.   

I haven’t heard from Uncle in a week.
Maybe he smells my radish green pesto breath, seeping out from underneath my front door, and he’s been scared in to submission…

I’ll keep you posted… 

And I don’t want you to make this uber nommy pesto and think about being stalked.
No.  Make a new happy memory…
That’s the problem with this writing space…
For better or worse, there’s a story that comes with every meal.

For Pesto

1 bunch of radish greens
3 cloves garlic
1/2 c. walnuts
1/2 c. olive oil
1/2 c. grated parmigiano cheese

-Place garlic, radish greens and walnuts in a food processor fit with a steal blade
-Pulse until completely chopped
-Slowly drizzle olive oil through food processor feed tube
-Remove from food processor and stir in cheese
-Put aside 

For Pasta Assembly

1 lb. spaghetti cooked al dente
1/2 c. mascarpone whisked with 2 T. lemon juice
2 T. lemon zest
1/4 olive oil
Freshly ground black pepper
Parmigiano for serving 

-Toss spaghetti with pesto
-Gently mix in mascarpone/lemon juice
-Sprinkle with lemon zest and drizzle with olive oil - gently tossing together
-Top with cheese and freshly ground black pepper 

Golden Beet Salad With Honeyed Goat Cheese & Spicy Candied Walnuts

*Recipe follows story

I loved Ben Harper in college.
OK.  I still love Ben Harper and am highly jealous of Laura Dern because she was married to my favorite soulful hippie.

I lived most of my college years by the words of Ben Harper, suffice to say, they were filled with rejection, fear of God, feeling oppressed and feeling depressed.  No one was stealing my kisses, or my virginity for that matter, and every day seemed like another lonely day - lost in Connecticut and missing NYC.

But I learned to love college.

Leaving the confines of Brooklyn and concrete was the best thing I ever did, even though my dad encouraged me to stay local and go to Kingsborough Community College - so I could live at home and charge down Flatlands Ave. on the B82 with a backpack and a Snapple.   

Cute.
Or, not so much.   

I left.

I left in search of taking a writing class with Wally Lamb and to find myself, like Dolores in She’s Come Undone.  And, let me be clear, I was no Dolores.  No man has ever sent me nude pictures and my dad did not abandon our family.  My life has been sunshine and rainbows when compared to Dolores Price - but I related to her sadness and confusion.  

And so, late August of 1998, we packed up the 1991 Plymouth Voyager and my whole family took me to University.  I was fully equipped with a mini-fridge, snacks, curtains, a shower caddy and framed family photos.

The first Corrado to go to college.  

My mom, dad, brothers and Cousin Maria took the pilgrimage with.  I cried when they left me.  I cried for 3 weeks after, which then inclined my father to make the trip up to Connecticut to visit me, 2 times a week, until I grew a pair and my sobbing subsided. 

The ride was 6-8 hours round trip.  Suffice to say my dad really loved me.

He and my mom were concerned with the fact that I was only eating animal crackers and pretzels and drinking Coca Cola by the liter. I was living off of the Costco supply they were kind enough to pack for me.

Week 4, I finally left my room - for purposes other than showering and going to class. 
My dad was no longer taking the Voyager out for a long spin to Connecticut.
In fact, when he called my room on Saturday mornings, I was out to breakfast.
With people.
College people.
That I met all on my own.   

Once I found friends, incense, alcohol, the college cafeteria, Ben Harper and Gospel Choir, my college life changed.  Sure I was overweight and had to accommodate my wondrous waistline with men’s jeans and my dad’s Dickies trucker shirts, but my new friends didn’t care.  I gained some confidence.  So much so, that I didn’t want to go back to Brooklyn at the end of my Junior year.  I couldn’t imagine going back to Brooklyn.  A friend of mine presented me with the opportunity to stay in Connecticut for the summer.  She enlisted my help to take care of a small working farm not too far from the University.

The summer of 2001 was life changing.  The summer of 2001 was when I played the Biggest Loser with myself - before there even was a show on NBC.  I didn’t even fully realize what was happening 

I got up and walked every morning.
I slowly worked my way to biking.
I cooked.
I hydrated with gallons of water.
I cleaned up pony poop.
I raked hay.  
There was lawn mowing and there were even sheep to keep me company.  

But Ben Harper was my highlight.  From the album Fight For Your Mind, I played, incessently, the song Gold To Me.

I always ironed and cleaned the house to it.  When Carolyn wasn’t on the farm, I would blast the song at top volume, while I drank wine and cooked myself to into a vegetable based oblivion.  I was living a cliche, even in 2001.  I imagined, one day, someone would tell me I was their piece of gold.  I imagined kisses would be stolen and I’d be pleased like I wanted to be. One evening, in mid-August, I went out to clean up the pony area and when I was walking back towards the house, I saw my reflection in the front door.  The dress I had on to do my daily pony poop scooping chores was huge on me.  There was a line between my ankle and my calf.  My leg didn’t look like a log anymore. I didn’t know what happened.  I mean I knew what happened, I was caring about myself.  But it was strange and scary. And I continued to keep caring.  And it’s been 10 years since that summer. 

When I was walking to the farmers market this past weekend, I thought about how I could walk for miles, now, and not feel it.  I thought about how I can eat my way through the best meal and food filled weekend and know it’s only food and nothing more.  

I’d been trying to hunt down golden beets for a month now.  However, I haven’t been successful in my hunt until this past weekend.  I came across the beets pictured above, and they sang to me.  And I sang back.  We went back and forth in Ben Harper lyrics, of course.  No, I didn’t sing out loud.  Although I do think the crunchy 8am farmers market crowd would’ve been totally down with it.

I kept it between me and my beets.   

I hear vegetables and they hear me.
I know Gold To Me is about love and being adored and shit like that, but these golden beets are love.  And I do adore them.  And they reminded me of my summer.  A summer that was amazing.     

So, I made a big fat roasted beet salad with candied walnuts and honey shallot vinaigrette and celebrated a bounty of gold I could not only eat - but a bowl I could stare into and see my life and little bit of love.  

For Beets

4 golden beets (peeled and cubed)
3 T. olive oil
4 oz. honeyed goat cheese (regular is cool too, if you can’t find one with honey)
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

-Preheat oven to 400 degrees
-Toss beats with olive oil, salt, pepper and roast for 35-40 minutes until fork tender
-Put aside to cool
*reserve goat cheese for serving 

For Candied Walnuts 

1 c. walnuts (I use halves)
3/4 c. sugar
2 T. cayenne
Kosher salt

-Heat a large non-stick pan over a medium high flame
-Add sugar, walnuts, cayenne and salt
-Mix/stir around until sugar begins to melt, constantly moving/coating the nuts so they do not burn
-When nuts are completely candied, transfer to a silpat (or foil coated with non-stick spray) until they cool

For Vinaigrette

1/2 shallot (diced)
2 T. white balsamic vinegar
2 tsp. honey
3 T. extra virgin olive oil
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper  

-Place all ingredients in a bowl and whisk well

For Assembling Salad

-Place beets on a large platter, sprinkle with candied walnuts and top with goat cheese
-Drizzle with vinaigrette and serve

*Makes a great side to summer pastas like pesto or to meat and chicken dishes
*Or, if you’re me, you’ll eat this with a honk of bread and glass of wine and call it a night