I Am A Fishwife - Shopping for Calamari

As I continue to mature…ahem…I realize that the events that often bring me the most energy and excitement and make me feel “young” are the ones where I venture into something unknown and try something new!  Saturday morning was such an event for me.

When we first moved to PV Shores, our good friend and painter, Themis Americas (a transplant from the city of Kalamata on the Greek Peloponnese peninsula) came to our house with a huge bag of fresh (read uncleaned) squid.  “Calamari” I exclaimed!  Not only did he gift me with squid but he showed Jay and I how to clean them and told us…shhhhhh…where to buy it!

 

Jay with Themis

Christmas is coming, I am Italian, I am preparing the dinner for Christmas Day, I need a vegetarian dish…Calamari!  So Saturday morning Jay and I set the alarm, got up early, and headed down to the huge building at the harbor where many fish mongers sell their catch to the public. 

Many of the doors were closed and we realized that those who want the best choice are there at 3 am.  It was already just past 7:30 and many had folded up shop!  But the last shop, the LA Fish Company, was open and we ventured in.  Fortunately we knew enough to wear old shoes because the floor was totally wet from the ice and water used for the fish.   

 

And what fish they had and what prices!  I was fortunate that when I entered a friendly woman shopper took pity on me and became my guardian angel.  Sue lived in Carson and came here often for fresh fish.  She swore this place was the best! 

Jay and I stood in awe of the variety displayed…all fresh (read uncleaned). 

 

Look at the blue lips on the parrot fish!

Then I spotted the little squid I was looking for in a large box with the price written on a piece of cardboard…50 cents a pound! Sue showed me how to get the plastic gloves on and where to get the large plastic bag and we both dug into the treasure trove.  She had never prepared this so I told how I cleaned them and how I prepared them.   

Finally a had my selection 

Weighing and paying!

but before I left, Sue pointed out her favorite fish to me…pompano…and told me how she prepared it. So I selected two fresh ones (read uncleaned) and then she said… "They will clean them for you for about $1 a fish!"  So I gave them to one of the men working on the tables along the side and received them back cleaned and butterflied!  He didn’t want any money… "Merry Christmas” he said…so we tipped him instead!

We were so energized after the experience that we treated ourselves to breakfast at the Pacific Dinner

and talked about the task ahead of us for the afternoon…cleaning that bag of squid and getting it packaged for the freezer…and the recipe I would use to prepared it for Christmas Day.  I went home feeling at least 10 years younger!

I Am an Heir - My Family Inheritance

Families have been known to come to blows over the family inheritance and who inherits what.  "I get the ruby pendant," "I get grandmother's silver," "I get Dad's gold ring."  Well my family's last name is Rinaldi, not Rockefeller and the items bequeathed to us are of a much simpler nature.  We don't necessarily have to wait for a reading of the will because some items are gradually being passed on to the recipients as my mother feels inclined to do so.  On various past Christmas eves she has given her children her wedding crystal and her china tea cups.  At a family gathering a few summers ago, she gave her 2 granddaughters each a ring that my father had given to her.  Each item was always been received with gladness and appreciated for the sentimental value more than the monetary value.  Today I became an heir.  I received something I have always wanted as my own...something that I have been telling her for years that I want handed down to me.  "Please, please, please," I have begged.  And it happened...today I received...the cannoli sticks.

Cannoli are a traditional Sicilian dessert, prepared and served at all holidays and special occasions.

Every good Sicilian woman knows how to make them from scratch and every good Sicilian woman has her own set of cannoli sticks. When my mother was a young bride her father, Sebastiano, made her a set of cannoli sticks.  He took a broomstick, cut it into 6 inch lengths, sanded them, oiled them and baked them in the oven to season them.  Every year, for over 60 years, my mother has used them to make her own cannoli shells and over the years their constant use in hot oil has refined them so that they are now worth their weight in gold.  Modern women purchase aluminum sticks from a specialty cookware shop or even Amazon.com  and I suppose they work very well but for me, my treasures are the wooden sticks.

For the past few years I have gone to my mother's kitchen before Christmas and together we have made the cannoli shells.  It takes an afternoon, she making the dough, rolling it out, wrapping it around the sticks, using egg white to attach the two ends.

I am at the stove, dropping the shells in the hot oil and frying them until they are golden.

As we work, we talk, we remember, we laugh.  She tells me what to remember about the recipe...to keep the dough thin so the shells will be light and crisp.  To not get the oil too hot or they will not be cooked on the inside.  To gently tap the one stick with another to loosen the fried shell.  This year, her 94th Christmas, she has decided that while she will still bake her two types of biscotti, maybe the Reeses Peanut Butter Balls, and her meatballs and sauce, she will not make the cannoli shells.  When I offered to make them at my home, she got the sticks down from the cupboard and she said..."You might as well keep them at your house.  They are going to you anyway!" 

So, now I have the cannoli sticks, my legacy from my mother.  My heart is full and I treasure the gift...but it is a bittersweet gift because it represents a passing on of a tradition, from her kitchen to mine. 

2006 - The cannoli shells

Thank you, Mom!

I Am a Chef - The Thanksgiving Meal

I grew up in an Italian-American family and holidays were about two things:  Family and Food.  My earliest memories of holidays are of packing the little sedan with six people and the trunk with boxes of pies and pots with tight fitting lids as we made the 2 mile drive to my paternal grandmother's house on Franklin Ave. in Kent, Ohio or the 60 miles trek to my maternal grandmother's house in Lorain, Ohio.  While the kitchen was full of women, laughter and aromas, we children were running up and down stairs, inventing games and just enjoying being with our cousins.  The only stress of the holiday was over how we were going to satisfy the expectations to be at both houses at once so both families would feel complete.

When I married and had my own family, we repeated the process packing our car with five people and the trunk with our food offerings and tried to satisfy the expectation of both sets of grandparents that their family be complete around their holiday table.  One year the father of my children had enough...basta!  This year, he announced, we are preparing our own Thanksgiving dinner so our sons have the memory of their mother cooking the turkey.  We will visit our families during the day but we will eat at home.  I spent the morning preparing the food in my tiny kitchen and when the turkey was ready to come out of the oven, called the three boys in to crowd around the stove as I opened the oven door and displayed the roaster with the crisp brown turkey cradled in the rack.  "There," I announced, "is the Thanksgiving turkey that your own mother prepared. Imprint it on your memory!"

Over the years the meals have moved from house to house, but the main pull has been to gather as many of the family as possible around the holiday table to celebrate family.  The greatest joy I have is to be involved in the preparation of the food.

I read the slick displays of the local markets and restaurants that offer to prepare your meal for you and consider the convenience of having the food delivered pipping hot to the door ready to grace the awaiting, set table.  While it is a time and energy saver, somehow it feels a bit empty to me.  For me, what is missing is the expending of love that goes into the preparation and this feeds my soul.  I began my personal investment yesterday.  I prepared the delicious brine (thank you Melinda Lee of KNX) and placed my fresh turkey in it to soak for 24 hours.  I prepared the homemade stock for my gravy. I cubed and toasted the bread for my dressing.  Today I will make the candied sweet potatoes and transfer the turkey to air dry in the refrigerator. Tomorrow morning I will dress the turkey and roast it, prepare the gravy, load up the car with my husband and the food and drive the 7 miles to my mother's home where those of the family who can, will gather around her table.

This is not a selfless action on my part.  It is very selfish.  With each step of the process I am pulled closer to my family.  I reminisce of Thanksgivings past.  I savor the images of younger versions of my loved ones and those who are gone. I remember who likes what recipes and make sure to include Grandma's Italian stuffing and to not vary the traditional sweet potatoes by adding mandarin oranges like I mistakenly did one year to the shouts of  "What have you done to the sweet potatoes!"  And tomorrow afternoon, as I place the food on the table, I will also have placed my love and I will feel complete.  I will feel connected to my past and to each of the people around the table and I will feel grateful. Being a chef at Thanksgiving is a gift to myself.  Happy Thanksgiving!