A Taste Back in Time: Recipes and True Stories of Family, Friends, Faith and Food

By Denise Martin

A Taste Back in Time, Recipes and true stories of Family, Friends, Faith and Food; is a compilation of humorous family stories often centered on food.

Gathering recipes from numerous relatives, there are recipes that date back many, many generations.
The Italian Culture is steeped in culinary tradition and the book sheds some light on the traditions and the important role that foods and celebrations play throughout life.

The book brings to light the belief that taking a taste of food that was enjoyed so long ago, instantly brings back fond memories of happier times. A time of Family, Friends, Faith and Flavor.

Many of the traditional foods and recipes seemed to have gotten lost amidst fast foods and chicken nuggets. Many of the long-held traditions that had sustained her in the past were almost non-existent in the fast paced 21st Century. In recapturing the memories that tie into the traditional foods, she rediscovered how these recipes could be adapted in todays kitchen
Hopefully when reading the book and trying the recipes you will feel and know that you are famiglia too!

TEASER

The Author was close to death and had several out of body experiences that changed her spiritually forever. Many come through this type of experience and write about it; oddly enough Denise chose to write a cookbook replete with kitschy humor and family skeletons. Interesting!

Spoiler Alert: About that tunnel
Will be discussed in an upcoming book, so stay tuned.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Oct 13, 2014
• ISBN: 9781496942630

Denise Martin

Denise Martin is a Medical Imaging Technologist in Toronto. She has a Bachelor's Degree in Accounting and a Masters of Applied Science from Charles Sturt University in Australia. She is an avid gardener and lives in Ridgeway Canada with her husband and son.

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© 2014 Denise Martin. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 10/02/2014

ISBN: 978-1-4969-4261-6 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4969-4262-3 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4969-4263-0 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Dedication Page

Acknowledgments

Introduction

A Taste of Two Tables

Foundation 4 : Family, Friends, Faith & Food

The Shoe’s on the Other Foot

Cash, Check or Cookies

Pass Me a Pity Party Hat & Pastina

Heeling the Soul

Cooking Through a Crisis

Novena and Nourishment

For Good Measure

Hoppy to Meet You

Funny Fish-Tale Adventures

Something is Fishy

Lobster Tales

We’re Going to Need a Bigger Pot!

Be Careful What You Fish For

Baccala Battles

On the Lamb

What’s Ahead

Eggs-Cellent!

The Stinky Eggs that Taste So Good

The Icky-Gooey Egg

Eggs in the Basket

Egg Shooters

Arthur Ave. ‘The Bronx’, NY

Goom-Bah-Yah!

Re-Vealing the Truth

Pin the Gal on the Donkey

Up in Smoke

The Dough Also Rises

The Last Box

Tina the Machina

Wine a Little, You’ll Feel Better

Crossing the Red Wine

The Pot Belly Club

The Secret to a Perfect Desert Dry Martini

Burn Piggy Burn

The Garden of Eatin’

Boogie-Man Fever

Crunch Time

The Monster Mash

Going with the Flo

Uncle Henry’s Chicken & Egg Farm

Brisket or Braciole

You Really are What You Eat

A Case of the Budgie Wudgies at the Beach

Halloween

Thanksgiving the Feast that Never Ends

The Little Drumstick Boy

A Leg Up

Tombola! The Real Peel

Does this Taste Rusty?

Christmas Eve & Christmas - The Super Bowl of Feasting

The Feast of the Seven Fishes

Holy Cannoli

The Blizzard Banquet Buffet

Bells Will Be Ringing

Leave the Milk, Take the Cannoli’s

Snow Stopper

Picture This

Stars and Stripes

Gaba-Ghoulish (Cappacuolo)

Rock Bridge Picnics

Sugar Pond

Magic-Roni & Cheese

Weed -Eater

St. Patrick vs. St. Joseph Day

The Power of the Pizzelle

A Half-Pound of Salami and Your Phone Number

The Way to a Man’s Heart is Burning Through His Stomach

A Slow Simmer

Matzo, Meatballs & Marriage

The Curse of the Kugel

Pasta & Politics

Italian Feasts

The ‘Blond’ Side

Two Hands Are Better Than One

I Love ‘Aunt ‘Lucy

The Cooking Cousins & Connections

Bake Sales & Bicycles

My Mother the Ceo

Championing the Cause With Kindness & Cookies

What’s the Motto With Me?

All Choked Up

Mistake or Masterpiece

Kneading and Kneeling

Who Knew? Dad Can Cook!

You May be a ‘Foodie’ or Wine Enthusiast Like Me If …

The Last Course

Recipes

Desserts

Feast of the Seven Fishes

Dedication Page

This book is dedicated to My Mother, Lillian who cooked her heart out for years, My Father Albert who patiently helped me with recipes and stories, he is my rock. To My Husband Sandy, without his hands to help me type, I could not have done this book and my beloved Dog, Ashley who was a key supporter, especially when I was testing recipes.

Acknowledgments

I would like to thank all my Family members past and present that helped teach me to cook and helped me to grow as a person. To all my Relatives and friends whose plates were full but found the time to provide some wonderful photographs, stories and recipes.

To the Dobbs Ferry Historical society for their help and patience. A Thank you to SLE online support site, they are the unsung heroes that put their own pain aside to help others.

Lastly and most importantly, I thank God through Jesus Christ for giving me the strength, wisdom, grace and for my personal redemption and salvation.

PSALM: 86:12

Introduction

My Name is Denise; I have been married to the same man for over 20 years. Several years ago I was diagnosed with Systemic Lupus Erythematosus (SLE), Sjogren’s Disease, Syndrome, Raynaud’s Disease and additional Lupus-related cardiac complications. The long trip back from Johns Hopkins Hospital had my head spinning. When I was diagnosed with SLE, I slumped into quite a depression. My entire world seemed to crumble in an instant, as the list of things I could never do again seemed to grow and grow. I have not had a pain-free day in over 2 years and they can’t seem to do much with the fluid around my heart. I have been on Chemo-type medications and several others that almost force me into a world of seclusion; I am so susceptible to virus I could die from a simple scratch. My last venture to the movie theatre almost landed me in the hospital. My glass at that point was ‘half-empty’ and disappearing before my eyes. From a culinary perspective it was like an episode from ‘Chopped’; only my basket ingredients now were horrible and the best ingredients were taken away from me. The only thing related to cooking that I thought of at that time involved the oven and gas I knew I was at the end of my rope. Then almost like a revelation, I thought about my Mother and her gallant fight and I thought of the grace of my Aunt Jennie and thought "Aha! Bread, of course bread would be a better option for the oven. My Faith also stopped me, Hell I thought was a lot hotter than the oven. The Women in my family have always been strong and graceful at the same time. I needed to channel them and fast.

I had to take that half empty glass and fill up with intangibles; memories and Faith. I had to go back in time to ‘Taste’ those aspects of my life to pull from things that got me through other hard times. My Journey backwards for purposes to go forward, glass in hand, ready to fill it up. The beginning stories are about other episodes earlier in my life that also seemed to suggest that the glass was half-empty. My Family, Friends, Faith and Food got me through many tough times, I needed to go back to those principals if I could make my life a bit ‘more flavorful’.

A Taste of Two Tables

It occurred to me that despite growing up in the same house with the same Parents and with a Brother and a Sister, all fairly close in age, that we all had very, different accounts and memories growing up. Having no children of my own, I wanted to keep alive some of the past culinary traditions and their stories for future generations.

The only thing we all agreed on was ‘the Food’ and the stories and memories of those delicious slices of life that seems to instantly take us back in time and savor them. We may not remember what gift we received at on any given Christmas, but we can all recount to the last detail the food that was served because it was the taste of tradition.

It has been my experience that even just talking about some of the ‘old’ classic traditional foods, it brings people back in time. One of the best ways’ to understand a culture is to taste their food. Attend any ethnic food festival and you see the pride and passion of the people. With a large smile they usually invite you in to taste and sit down with us and enjoy. I invite you here to sit down at my table and invite you to share in our stories, food, faith and fun. As we Italians like to say "we treat you like family’.

Some of the stories maybe ‘kitschy; even a little ‘hokey.’ But written from the heart. I hope you can relate and possibly it will encourage you to recall your food and family memories and cherish them.

I used to marvel at how many people we could fit at our table during the holidays; now looking down the great table, I see many empty places where Aunts, Uncles, Grandparents and other relatives used to sit. Funny when I was younger I could not wait to get away from them, now I long to hear one of their hokey stories for the umpteenth time during the holidays, one more time. Since I can’t bring them back, I can bring back some of the memories through the tastes of traditions.

A Taste Back in Time, sometimes sweet, sometimes bitter, but always flavorful & leaving us hungry for just more bite at life! Bring your appetite along for a delicious adventure in culinary nostalgia. This book is part autobiography, Part Cook Book and packed full of flavor.

My Mother Lillian was Irish with hint of Polish for good measure. My Father Albert was 110% Italian. Those with Italian Fathers will get that meaning!

My Mother was an excellent cook of course because, she learned from my Father’s big Italian Family and our other big extended Family known as friends and neighbors.

My Mother died in her 50’s, after battling many years with Ovarian Cancer.

My Father is getting up there in age, as we all are and I thought it would be important to bring to light those very recipes that is and was the common thread among all our families varied lives. Perhaps these are your common threads too.

There are now six generations of our family since my Great Grandparents came over from Italy. At each passing year, I find it is important to recount some of the stories behind some of these classic traditional Italian recipes before they disappear before our very eyes.

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Lillian, Wife, Mother, Aunt, Sister and My Culinary Instructor!

Foundation 4 : Family, Friends, Faith & Food

A little more about our Family background and dynamics, my Mother was very young when she married my Father. He was in the U.S. Air Force stationed near her hometown. They met at a dance and I think her awesome red hair captivated him.

She came from Missouri to New York, without knowing a soul about the area or the Italian culture. To this day, many who knew her do not believe she was not Italian. But she adapted to the life and that meant learning to cook from her Mother-in-law and a number of Aunts and relatives.

Our Family had its share of misfortunes - My Brother Brian the oldest Sibling suffers from colitis - the horrible ulcer kind and was forced to drop out of college due to illness after 3 years. He nearly died. Once again, our family prayed and cooked.

My Sister Linda is 18 months older than I am. Tragically at around age 8 she was hit by a car in my Grandfather’s driveway. It was a freak accident that almost caused her to lose her leg. A car backfired, pinning my Sister against a tree stump. The Stump actually saved her life. We think about that stump and how often my Grandmother had hounded my Grandfather to have it removed. My Sister had to have countless surgeries well into her teens. Just prior to that accident, I was diagnosed with Children’s Rheumatoid Arthritis, Prior to the diagnosis I was hauled to specialist to specialist until finally they found the diagnosis, this also involved several surgeries and challenges. I even had to have eye surgery as the inflammation from the JRA had caused the eye muscles to go out of whack.

There were days when I would just break out in hives and rashes. I could not go into an air-conditioned room with my fingers swelling like sausages. I even had to have a ring cut off because the swelling caused the circulation to stop. But as if having JRA (Juvenile Rheumatoid Arthritis) wasn’t enough, I also suffered from Migraines, allergies and ended up with a disease known as Chorea; it was a neurological disease that effected my ability to speak, walk, or even hold a fork or pencil to write or anything involving coordination. My head and entire body would jerk uncontrollably. They think that as a result of JRA I developed Rheumatic Fever that escalated into Chorea. My immune system was wreaking havoc on my central nervous system, but my cognitive brain functions were good. I could think and feel, but just could not control any physical movements. They first thought I had a Brain tumor. I not only had to endure the Doctors warnings that the JRA could leave me crippled and disfigured but now I could die of a brain tumor.

I endured 2 spinal taps among other horrid tests; many had to be done without a numbing agent because they need to have the nerves active to see what was happening.

At times they would have to drawn so many vials of blood and I would faint. My parents were strong for me, but I knew they were worried. My Mother wanted to take me to the Lourdes in France, she prayed for a miracle and she got one. Her name was Dr. T. and I am ever so thankful the world-renowned NYC Hospital and that young doctor named Dr. Catharine T. for figuring out the cause and how to treat it.

To me what was really upsetting was that I had to attend school in this condition. I went from being the outgoing cheerleader type full of life and energy. I played the drums, I was into gymnastics, I had epic slumber parties I was part of the ‘in’ crowd and suddenly I was a complete introvert! I could not even speak properly because my words would slur. I think for the first time in my life I voluntarily shut my mouth. My world inside me was turned upside down. But in the process I discovered I much preferred the ‘nerdy’ types that were not judgmental, but supportive. It totally transformed me and I became a much better person because of this. Again, was this a spiritual intervention? I tend to think so.

The disease lasted almost a year. It left me with a heart murmur and a new outlook on life. I had to re-learn how to write and speak; it was almost like having a stroke. I was about 11 years old. The horrible disease had a chance of coming back and I had to take a large shot of antibiotics every month for five solid years to avoid the risk.

I would go to sleep each night praying to God to keep this disease away from me.

The Threat of becoming paralyzed or crippled became all to real to me when I first entered a very well known NYC Children’s Hospital at age 7 where I saw the unthinkable. Children with missing limbs, in casts, crippled, but smiling. Somehow I always remembered the smiles and hope that you could really see in their eyes.

I recall seeing a young girl with the longest hair that had a rod for a leg attached to her thigh that was more like a cast. She cheerfully explained that as she continued to grow, she would undergo a number of these operations to keep up with her other leg. She said this all the while smiling and I though smiling was petrified on the inside, would this too become my fate? We prayed and prayed.

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Albert and Lillian

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Best Sisters Forever!

The Shoe’s on the Other Foot

When I was in the first grade, I had to wear these special supportive shoes that even at age 6 or 7 I found so hideous, I thought of various ways to rid myself of them. One such plot unfolded when I met my friend Laurie. Her family had recently moved to the US from England

We became best friends on day one and were inseparable. We wanted to arrange a ‘plays date’ for after school. We decided that the best way to force the issue was to ‘accidentally’ on purpose wear each other’s shoes home from school. The bus drive surely would never notice it.

It was quite common in school to take off your shoes during play or nap time. I knew my parents would be horrified and would not let one single day go by without me wearing the awful things, so we knew it was a masterful plan.

As soon as I got home from school and my Mother saw my feet, I told a little white lie about the shoe mix-up. The same response came from Laurie’s Mother who really must have been horrified at the site of the orthopedic shoes. The Mothers were on the phone within minutes. We confessed our scheme and they both understood. We had play dates constantly.

This shoe fiasco actually was a major turning point in my life. Laurie’s Mother asked about my shoes and my Mother told her the story of my unending battle with ankle issues. As fate would have it, her Husband was the Director of a Major NYC Children’s Hospital. She told my Mother about a wonderful Doctor that specialized in children’s joint issues. A phone call later and appointment was made. I found out later how difficult it had been to even see this Doctor on such short notice, I was in within a couple of days. I often wonder what life would have been like had I not met Laurie. Divine intervention or Devilish prank? I like to believe there was a divine element about it.

Cash, Check or Cookies

We found out that his fee was pretty high and we might not be able to afford his fees. My parents called and when Dr. David A. spoke with my Mother, he asked her if she could make homemade Molasses Cookies? I believe he was from Kentucky and he missed his Mom’s cookies. My Mother immediately said yes, though I doubt she did. Dr. David A. made a deal with her, that if she could bake him two dozen molasses cookies, he would waive his fee. When the big day arrived and I went to the appointment, my Mom must have made him about 6 dozen cookies, which he loved!

During my examination all Dr. David A. had to do was to feel my ankle and said, She has JRA and we need to operate to remove the sac around the bone that is causing the pain. One single x-ray confirmed this, he even showed it to my parents and I was just glad that they knew I wasn’t making up such a story.

I was scheduled for surgery within the week and needless to say, My Mother perfected her recipe for Molasses cookies and Dr. David A. was the joyful recipient of many dozens. I loved that Doctor and saw him many times throughout my other flares with JRA. His kind lighthearted demeanor was always a comfort to me. I remember the day of the operation when all I saw around me were Doctors in white coats and masks I was upset that I didn’t know which one was my Dr. David A. but then he came right over because I kept asking for Dr. A. He knew this and when he came over to me just before I was given anesthesia he flipped his mask down and gave me a big wink and a smile. I smiled back. He was one in a million.

Once my Parents began to learn about JRA they contemplated moving the family to Arizona because of the dry climate. This would have meant my Father would have to leave his job which he had already invested a