Pasta co' ferraglie

Pasta Co' Ferraglie/Pasta with scraps/Pasta "Truemmerfrauischen" Art

(In onore a amici mei in absentia Choey e Don Antonio)

Financial times are, shall we say, tight around the Hungryrabbi household (ie, thin as a razor) and one must make do, from time to time, with the forgotten remnants of a once well-stocked larder. Today's depressing search through the cabinets (well, cabinet) yielded half an old bag of spaghettini and a can of Glory brand seasoned cabbage. Pretty damned depressing stuff, but with the memory, somewhere back in the hippocampus, of a dish of pasta con cavoli, I proceeded forthwith, determined to make a meal out of minima.

Die Zutaten:

ca. 150 g Spaghettini
1 can Glory brand seasoned cabbage
black pepper
pat of butter
ca. 1 dl. Half and Half

In large, non-stick saucepan, empty can of cabbage, with attendant liquid, and saute over medium heat until cabbage softens further and canning liquid mostly evaporates (A steama saute). Meanwhile, pasta water is bubbling nicely at a rolling boil. Add as little salt as I can get away with to intensify boiling action. Re-cover pot. When cabbage is "tightened" to proper consistency and softened nicely, add half and half and butter and lower heat, stirring frequently. The pasta has been added to the water and needs 7 minutes or so to get just a hair below al dente. Couple of shakes or twists of black-a-da-pep at this point to the cabbage. Keep stirring, and like magic the cabbage and half and half will get a nice, gauzy, wet, creamy consistency. Keep warm but do not cook further. Pasta has reached desired tenderness - drain right out of the pot and into the pan with the cabbage. Mix it all around and do the hokey pokey. The pasta will absorb a lot of the liquid and thicken the mixture considerably, so I add a ladle or two of the pasta water to loosen it up and saute for a minute more to bring it down to the right consistency. Plate it uppa nice, add some more black-a-da-pep, say a prayer for Chico Marx, and there you have it. No grated romano, no drizzle of truffle oil...hmmmm... A ha! A lost bag of bread crumbs lurking in the back by the rats. Toast those up in the pan for a minute, sprinkle over finished dish. Dass-a nice. Who said poverty sucks?

Il Mazzechrist' di Fama...

optimum cibi condimentum fames.


HR,

That sounds pretty tasty. Sometime back I posted a recipe that is in general terms simiar and, indeed, the combination of pasta and cabbage and cream is a fine one:
http://lthforum.com/bb/viewtopic.php?p=17882#17882

Regarding the issue of food and poverty, there is no doubt in my mind that, at least under certain circumstances and within certain bounds, privation can be a very positive factor in the development of a cuisine in general and of an individual's culinary sensibilities.


In my own experience, I recall a longish period when I lived in Belgium during which my financial resources were extremely limited. Though I certainly never faced starvation, thrift and creativity were very much needed to keep me well fed. Armed with a basic knoweldge of my family's cooking methods and repertoire of dishes (and a few things learned from Julia Child on WNET), I managed to learn a lot of things about cooking precisely thanks to the limitations imposed on what I could afford.

I also believe that one of the benefits of fasting is the way it renews one's appreciation for food and with that, the way it -- at least for me -- seems to reinvigorate my palate. Though I no longer fast as strictly as I used to do (and I think I sorely need to go back to the old ways), I still remember vividly just how wonderful a piece of bread or an olive or a chicory leaf or a spoonful of yoghurt would taste at the end of a day of total sobriety. The flavours become more intense, it seems to me.

As they say, honger is de beste saus... en maakt rauwe bonen zoet.

Antonius

Onorevole Rebbe, one thing we all agree upon among the Neapolitan subgroup here at LTHForum: Quanno Rabbinoaffamato va 'ncarrozza, tutte quante 'o vedeno.

Your tale of human pathos has left me trembling like a stricken faun. As your cumpare and dedicated supporter of the Devil's Music, I'll stand you to a buona spaghettata any time. And I don't mean like that broken up Ivan Denisovich munnezzaglia you described. I'm talking la cosa vera. Let me know, but meanwhile, please add a little carrot, celery, onion, and an exiguous slice of pancetta to your pasta e cavolo alla Bleak House.

tuo,
Choey

Chinese Version [learned whilst starving as grad student at S. F. State]

Chop up some bok choy. Stir fry in a stew pot. Pour in a can of Campbell's Chicken Won-ton*, reserving the actual won-tons themselves for eating at a later date. [Or eat them now, why not?] Add a good-sized dollop of la jiao jiang, cover and simmer for 15-20 minutes. Meanwhile, cook a brick of ramen.

Combine.

Eat.

It also works with collards, if the bok choy is too expensive.

Geo
PS. A bit of sesame oil for seasoning doesn't hurt, if you can afford it.

*Alright, I admit, until I got my first couple of TA paychecks, I used a chicken bouillon cube; but the Campbell's really did taste better.

Bubbe,

You are bringing back memories of much leaner years. Thing is, I'm not reminded of my Casertana mother's tavola povera of pane cotta, mush, and bitter greens, but of my Slovak paternal grandmother's insipid and endless halusky, the national dish of Pittsburgh -- where all of Polish, Ukranian, Czech, Slovak, Hungarian (and probably more) descent are "Hunkies," from the formerly derogatory Bo-Hunk.

Happy Fat Thursday. When you are back in Chicago, liver and onions are on me. You'll need your strength back for the long winter.

Perhaps when the prodigal Rebbe returns to Chicago we can slaughter some ruminants and make a feast of birria and montalallo and obisbo to celebrate his return. Nothing but the best!

Antonius

I managed to learn a lot of things about cooking precisely thanks to the limitations imposed on what I could afford

This is, I think, a really big point that deserves a discussion, or at least contemplation, of its own.

One of the things that's so dispiriting about commercial chain cuisine, and even a certain amount of haute cuisine, is that money can't buy flavor-- or rather, it tends to defeat itself in the process of doing so. The desire to impress ends up in food that blends too many flavors and ingredients and thus muddies them all-- the vodka martini blue cheese shrimp pasta with raspberry coulis. And in the process it tends to use the cuts with the highest perceived value and the least flavor-- the chicken breast, the filet steak, etc. (The irony, of course, is that the fat removed by using the boneless skinless chicken breast is usually added back in some other way, or replaced with an excessively sweet sauce, or something.)

That's why Paul Kahan's roasted pork belly was such a revelation-- a piece of pork flavored not with something else, like a pork chop smothered in whatever, but flavored with itself, its own porky goodness. A revelation, anyway, to a culture that had forgotten what most of humanity (that eats pork, anyway) had known for millenia.

There's a fascinating-sounding new cookbook I heard about on The Splendid Table, with one of those smack-your-forehead concepts-- Bones. Now, the very idea may repulse some people as much as those blood soups posted about recently, but assuming you wouldn't be here at all if you were that squeamish, the idea of reconnecting with ways to cook with bones, extract all that wonderful flavor from bones, is not only a better way to cook many things but a more respectful way to use animals than seeing them as two plump, anonymous chicken breasts (or equivalent) and a bunch of trash protein to be ground and refed to their descendants.

Accepting, for whatever reason, financial or cultural limitations on your cooking-- no, I will not try to spruce up middling Texas chili with lemongrass and olive tapenade-- will almost certainly introduce you not only to techniques with eons of practice behind them but to ingredients which are the real heart of flavor.

JeffB wrote:Bubbe,

You are bringing back memories of much leaner years. Thing is, I'm not reminded of my Casertana mother's tavola povera of pane cotta, mush, and bitter greens, but of my Slovak paternal grandmother's insipid and endless halusky, the national dish of Pittsburgh -- where all of Polish, Ukranian, Czech, Slovak, Hungarian (and probably more) descent are "Hunkies," from the formerly derogatory Bo-Hunk.

Haluska is a dish that's on the menu in my house on a semi regular basis. My husband is Hungarian and it's something when he was growing up in Romania that they ate because it was a very inexpensive dish to make. This recipe is probably enough to feed your whole family so I cut it in half sometimes.

1 stick of butter
1 large onion peeled and cut in strips
1 small head of cabbage
1 tsp. salt
1/4 tsp. pepper
1 box or bag of large egg noodles, cooked and drained
1 pint of sour cream

There's also another one called Turos Teszta which is another sort of 'poor' standby. Which is boiled noodles, farmers cheese (or cottage cheese), sour cream, salt and pepper, and then if you like you can garnish it with dill or a broken piece of bacon or two that you've fried. It's really one of those things you mix up in a pot until it looks 'right'.

There's also another version of it called Turos Csuza where you make it pretty much the same but pour it into a baking dish that's been greased with some of the bacon fat and bake it at 350 for a few minutes until it sets up. My husband refers to this as the 'baked heart attack'.

Erzsi wrote:There's also another version of it called Turos Csuza where you make it pretty much the same but pour it into a baking dish that's been greased with some of the bacon fat and bake it at 350 for a few minutes until it sets up. My husband refers to this as the 'baked heart attack'.

I find it difficult to view anything as a "baked heart attack" with a smidgen or even more of bacon fat after visiting Poland and seeing perfectly thin and healthy-looking Poles smear lard on many slices of hearty bread. The lard was served in coffee mug-sized vessels (we're such wimps with our butter pats). Not once did I see someone drop dead of a heart attack while there- but maybe I visited during a good time.

Back to Halusky -- my family (Slovak) does not use egg noodles, but what we termed eloquently as "bumps," doughy things kind of like spaetzle.

aschie30 wrote:

Erzsi wrote:There's also another version of it called Turos Csuza where you make it pretty much the same but pour it into a baking dish that's been greased with some of the bacon fat and bake it at 350 for a few minutes until it sets up. My husband refers to this as the 'baked heart attack'.

I find it difficult to view anything as a "baked heart attack" with a smidgen or even more of bacon fat after visiting Poland and seeing perfectly thin and healthy-looking Poles smear lard on many slices of hearty bread. The lard was served in coffee mug-sized vessels (we're such wimps with our butter pats). Not once did I see someone drop dead of a heart attack while there- but maybe I visited during a good time.

Back to Halusky -- my family (Slovak) does not use egg noodles, but what we termed eloquently as "bumps," doughy things kind of like spaetzle.

Currently I have a cannister of lard in my fridge and my father in law eats that on toast when he stops in for breakfast with his eggs. I think that I might have omitted that stick of butter from that recipe as well. A stick of butter, a pint of sourcream a dish greased with bacon fat, it's definately not a dish you can eat everyday. I do tend to pick up a bit of snarkyness in your post, and maybe you did visit at a good time since no one dropped dead! The coment was a stab at a joke but apparently that fell a bit short.

However it's probably more acceptable to eat dishes like that on a regular basis if you're able to get out and work it all off, or you have a more physical job where you're laboring all day. I know that in my mothers family of coal miners bread with lard and slabs of salt pork were generally what they took in their lunch buckets when they went off to work in the mines.

I inherited this grater sort of thing to make 'bumps' with. I think that the people in my family took pity on me after my attempts to portion them out with a spoon. They always ended up a bit too large and doughy for everyones tastes.

Erzsi wrote:I do tend to pick up a bit of snarkyness in your post, and maybe you did visit at a good time since no one dropped dead! The coment was a stab at a joke but apparently that fell a bit short.

No, no snarkiness. (Perhaps I should have included some sort of emoticon to convey that.) Just that after my Poland visit, the mere addition of anything fat-related no longer elevates a dish, in my view, to heart attack level whereas, perhaps, before then, I might be thinking along the same lines as you. I agree that to eat like that everyday probably would not be good, although I sense that in Poland, they do eat their share of fatty stuff every day. But, as you said, the recipe feeds a lot of people - perhaps due to the heaviness of the ingredients? Therefore, you eat less of it, no? And that's a good thing, despite the abundance of fatty ingredients (as opposed to eating a humongous plate of pasta with a virtually fat-free tomato sauce).

I do know that ingredients we consider to be "heart-attack"-related are not viewed as such in European countries. For instance, the French don't have the same appalled reaction to butter or cream as Americans do. Or Poles, to pork products. Or Germans, to sour cream. After a "fat-free"-everything induced 90s, which got Americans nowhere near as slim as the Europeans, I'm inclined to have a dish like your halusky, even the baked version, guilt-free, in a reasonable portion, although once in awhile.

Financial times are, shall we say, tight around the Hungryrabbi household (ie, thin as a razor) and one must make do, from time to time, with the forgotten remnants of a once well-stocked larder

And for better or worse, this is, of course, what much of Italian cooking is based on. Ravioli, meatballs w/ breadcrumbs, etc.. all sprang from using leftovers and being frugal.

Cheers to hungryrabbi for creating something from nothing.

Saluti Amici Scichaggoensi !!

All - The general goodwill and offerings thrown my way after my tale of culinary woe is drawing me ever closer to the decision to return. The reports of Spacca Napoli aren't hurting that decision, either.

Choey - You crack me up, cumpare. (A-make-a-me-a-smile). I tell ya, songs like Hooker's "House Rent Boogie", Jimmy Rogers's "My Last Meal", and Johnson's "Dead Shrimp Blues" are resonating with a frightening familiarity. As are the stories of Big Boy Crudup sleeping under the 39th Street EL platform as Elvis took "That's All Right, Mama" to the top of the charts. Oof. Donations (to be repaid with the vigorish of your choosing) may be made at any LaSalle Bank branch. I'll be on my feet soon enough, though, as soon as the Hammurabi-like codes which regulate New York real estate sales work themselves out and we settle up this long overdue matter. Til then, molto creative e improvisate. As for my dish being a munnezzaglia, I did use only one, uniform type of pasta, but the derogatory connotations of such a name for my dish were probably best represented by Vini, my padrone della Blues, as he passed by the kitchen and peered into the pan. No words, but a dubious, raised eyebrow, and a pursed-lipped, slow shaking of his head in disbelief as he strolled by said all that needed to be said.

Don Antonio - Once again, from the mouths of babes, err... award-winning polyglot geniuses, I mean... wait, this hasn't come out right at all. Truer words have never been spoken, is what I mean to say. Wisdom from afar. I did indeed poach (ha ha) this recipe from your long-ago post on Rigatoni alla crema di cavoli, hence the use of the great one's font as tribute (You can knock me down, spit in my face, do anything you want to do, but uh-uh honey lay off of my font... don't you, step on my green bold italicized font...). Hunger is indeed the best sauce, and I can say that when you have to pick out the change from between the seats of your (non-running) car in order to get it, a lone taco de carnitas becomes something to be lingered over, savored, and revered. Even the "egg in a basket" (fried egg in a piece of bread with the mollic' hollowed out) I had for brunch, or especially, maybe, is elevated to heretofore unknown heights. As far as a birria, montalallo, and/or obisbo feast upon my return, I'm all for it. I'm all for anything, really, as long as the company and mood is right.

JeffB - Indeed, had they been egg noodles instead of spaghettini, I probably would have called it an impromputu Kapuszta (the Hungarian variation on halusky, at least as it came passed down through my family. We either had some uncle or grandparent from Budapest, or someone really into Ernie Kovacs). Noodles, cabbage and pot cheese with black pepper was a familar and comforting dish found throughout the winter on the tables in my house and my grandmother's, and I imagine subtle variations exist throughout the Eastern-European and Ashkenazi landscapes. Who you callin' peasant??

MikeG - Some very important, valid points there. A lot of my extra-familial interest in food history and technique began with the cookbooks we had on the shelves (along with Antonius' channel 13-influenced Julia Child recipes and techniques) when I was growing up, which included the Craig Claiborne New York Times Cookbook and the Chef Tell book. Although both eventually go into more advanced, haute- or restaurant type preparations, the authors say in the prefaces how much they appreciate and come from simple, humble preparations. Chef Tell (whose mother was a real Truemmerfrau) went on to cook for royalty and lead the charge at the Barclay in Philly, but he always gives props, as it were, to the Hungerjahre after WWII, and the inventive, loving ways his mother, Gisela, would feed the family from literally almost nothing. His recipes and preparations, which come right out of the old-school, European hotel school of cookery, still favor simplicity, freshness, and economy above everything else. Claiborne explains that when he is not off in the Hamptons or on TV with Pierre Franey and Jaques Pepin, he contents himself with a simple daily meal of a poached egg and fruit for breakfast, and a small salad, baked potato, and single lamb chop for dinner. Regardless, he still sets the table properly and explains that even the humblest meal is a blessing. Which is why, again, it's a great thing that LTHforum exists - not as some cool club (though we are all, undoubtedly, some hip mammajammas around here) but as some sort of counteraction to the general thoughtlessness which pervades our culture, and our food culture in particular. The Olive Gardens of the world will continue to thrive, I suppose, for those who can't, won't, or simply don't know how to go about finding an alternative (a cheaper, better tasting, and more soulful place to eat), but just knowing that the Slow Foods, LTH's, etc.. are around gives one hope. Eating well is fine, and a just reward for some. Eating without reflection or appreciation is a sin. On the for real.

Reb (Il "Matzoh"Christ')

These things always hit me after the fact....

A comedian whom I've been getting into of late (I think I gave him a shout-out in the "What are you Listening to Right Now" thread) is Dana Gould. (www.danagould.com) Though mostly unknown to the general public, a lot of his material, honed over years of touring the club circuit in the 80's and 90's, was poached by The Onion, The Simpsons, and countless other comics. He's sort of the grand poobah of the "alternative" comedy renaissance and leader of the pack of the newer generation of comics like David Cross, Patton Oswalt, Eugene Mirman, Louis CK, and so on. Gould's own comedy reflects Lenny Bruce, Albert Brooks, Richard Lewis, Woody Allen, Shelley Berman, Dick Gregory, and many other legendary, non-traditional comic minds, with his own unique spin, of course. His video clips (one of which is from the Funny Firm in Chicago, in which he does a hilarious bit about Larry King and one of the best TV commercial parodies of all time) and full shows (audio only) from the Un-Cabaret in Los Angeles over the last several years are well worth your time. This all came to mind not only as a recommendation for a few laughs, but from his own tales of living and eating on the cheap (paraphrased here, but still funny as disembodied text...):

"One thing I did eat when I was poor was Underwood Deviled Ham. Remember that? Meat "product" in the little white wrapper, with the happy little Devil on the package? (does imitation of smiling devil with pitchfork). I really admire the advertising executive who came up with that. (Boss voice) We need a logo for the company! Some loveable little mascot! (Executive voice) What about, uhhh.... SATAN?? (Boss) The Devil and ham! I like it! Tate, you've got a good thing with this man Stevens! Now why is my wife a mule?...."

Definitely worth your time. Oh, and as if to prove the sentiment that "living well is the best revenge", Gould is now an executive producer on the Simpsons, finally reaping the financial rewards from years of having his material stolen. Good things come to those who wait, indeed.

Funnyrabbi

Mike G wrote:There's a fascinating-sounding new cookbook I heard about on The Splendid Table, with one of those smack-your-forehead concepts-- Bones. Now, the very idea may repulse some people as much as those blood soups posted about recently, but assuming you wouldn't be here at all if you were that squeamish, the idea of reconnecting with ways to cook with bones, extract all that wonderful flavor from bones, is not only a better way to cook many things but a more respectful way to use animals than seeing them as two plump, anonymous chicken breasts (or equivalent) and a bunch of trash protein to be ground and refed to their descendants.

The author of Bones: Recipes, History, and Lore Jennifer McLagan was a guest speaker at Culinary Historians in November. I must admit there are some subject matters where I am not quite sure I will truly enjoy them. I admit to being initially dubious on bones. She arrived with a box of maybe 30 bones, then proceed to discuss one piece at a time. Her deep interest and enthusiasm for her subject was quite captivating. The cover of her book features a recipe borrowed from Fergus Henderson: roasted marrow and parsley salad.

I bought her book, though I have not yet gotten round to reading it. If her radio interview was anything like her live lecture, then you did experience a revelation.

Regards,

Erzsi wrote:Haluska is a dish that's on the menu in my house on a semi regular basis. My husband is Hungarian and it's something when he was growing up in Romania that they ate because it was a very inexpensive dish to make.

ronnie_suburban wrote:
Erzsi's haluska by jazzfood

G Wiv wrote:Jazzfood w/ Erzsi's haluska

Ronnie_suburban's and G'Wiv's great photos from the LTHForum 1,000-Recipe Potluck, June 22, 2008, appear here and here, including shots of Erzsi's haluska, as prepared by jazzfood.

Ever since I first saw the pix, I've been trying to figure out what the 'specks' on the noodles are. First, I thought maybe they were seeds, like, say, carroway seeds. But I read the recipe and it wasn't at all clear what they might be. Dill, maybe? Soooo, I'd really like to know what the 'specks' are, so's I can maybe try to duplicate what looks like a wonderful, simple, but delish dish.

Geo

Jazzfood will, of course, have to respond for a definitive answer. However, if I were to hazard a guess, caraway seeds would be a realistic choice and seem appropriate. I consulted all of my Hungarian (and even took a look at the Romanian) cookbooks. Not a one calls for anything so...fancy. Still, I imagine they would have added to the dish and that would be my inexpert suspicion.

Gypsy Boy wrote:Jazzfood will, of course, have to respond for a definitive answer. However, if I were to hazard a guess, caraway seeds would be a realistic choice and seem appropriate. I consulted all of my Hungarian (and even took a look at the Romanian) cookbooks. Not a one calls for anything so...fancy. Still, I imagine they would have added to the dish and that would be my inexpert suspicion.

I would probably second Gypsy Boy's guess of caraway seeds. Which is an inspiring addition. That plate looks stunning!

Yeah, caraway seeds (which I spelled "carroway" for whatever reason--I've been submerged in Montréal français for too long, my spelling is all gone to hell! ) sounded right to me, and your two expert opinions solidify it for me.

I've got some fresh dill left over from my current batch of half-sours... might sprinkle the teeniest bit of that on it. Not authentic, of course, but might be a nice combo: caraway and dill.

Onward!

Tnx guys!

Geo

It was definitely caraway seeds.

Tnx LAZ--and a hearty big "Thanks!" for all your work over the last few days getting us all heads-up'ed on the photos from the potluck. Simply wonderful stuff, much appreciated! Sure wish I'da been there...

Geo

Geo wrote:Yeah, caraway seeds (which I spelled "carroway" for whatever reason--I've been submerged in Montréal français for too long, my spelling is all gone to hell! ) sounded right to me, and your two expert opinions solidify it for me.

I've got some fresh dill left over from my current batch of half-sours... might sprinkle the teeniest bit of that on it. Not authentic, of course, but might be a nice combo: caraway and dill.

My mother likes the same dish with dill added to it, or even just, farmers cheese, with sour cream and dill. I think dill is a worthy addition to the dish. Try it and see how it tastes and report back to us!

Geo wrote:Tnx LAZ--and a hearty big "Thanks!" for all your work over the last few days getting us all heads-up'ed on the photos from the potluck. Simply wonderful stuff, much appreciated!

You are most welcome. Thanks to the photographers for providing such gorgeous documentation.

I figured that, in the long run, it would be most useful to have the photos in the same threads as the recipes, rather than off by themselves in an event thread people might not remember to look at.

However, do look at the potluck thread because it is full of recipes, too. (They'll appear in the next update of the recipe index, but that may not happen for a few weeks.)

Caraway it was. Just seems natural to me so I couldn't resist. I'm just not good at following directions without veering into the abyss. Actually, the sour cream although that may seem right as well just didn't do it for me. I've made that dish numerous times for many years sans the sour and never thought to add it once. In this case I prefer it without, even though I generally like anything with it and it was authentic.

For the record, I cooked/sauteed down the cabbage and onions to caramelized in unsalted butter (about 25 min) before adding the egg noodles. Then kosher salt, heavy fresh ground pepper and the caraway.

jazzfood wrote:For the record, I cooked/sauteed down the cabbage and onions to caramelized in unsalted butter (about 25 min) before adding the egg noodles.

OK, I get it now. This explains the look of things—I kept looking for individual pieces of cabbage, but couldn't find them in the pictures. They, and the onions, have become part of the sauce, quite intimately. Good to know. Tnx for the further info!

Geo