How Bad Can Olive Oil & Garlic Be?

     Tonight I made a simple pasta dish called Olio. Now I know what you’re thinking. Oh-leo? The dish is actually pronounced eye-yool. Growing up, I slowly found as I spent time with my more Americanized friends, when it came to Italian food and culture, I talked differently. I remember the first time I went to Olive Garden, (which is a rarity in my family since it’s fake American-Italian food), I was fourteen and I laughed at the waiter because he said MOTZ-ER-ELL-A and MAIR-IN-AIR-A. I nearly fell over observing his incompetence and ignorance, and that he was qualified to work at an Italian restaurant; that’s when I realized the cultural barrier and difference between the waiter and I was myself—I was the culturally different one, not him.

     It’s interesting how when you are immersed in a culture or way of living, anything that is different from what you are accustomed is weird. I’m sure that if someone were to observe the habits of my family, how we talk, and how we interact, they would think we are weird. My family only has two volumes: loud and louder. We’re always kissing and hugging, and talking about the next meal when we ourselves are in the middle of eating. I love that we’re different. And I love that my culture defines me. I love that people look at me in confusion when I talk about Italian dishes and spices and nobody knows what I am talking about.

     So remember next time you are in an Italian restaurant, or are simply eating Italian food, it’s Mootz-uh-rel and Mah-ni-nar.

The official name is Aglio Olio Sauce  (Oil and garlic)

Recipe:

1/3 cup Extra Virgin Olive Oil

6 large garlic cloves crushed

1/2 teaspoon of salt

1/2 teaspoon course ground black pepper

Dash of crushed red pepper

1/2 cup fresh parsley chopped

In a two quart sauce pan, combine all the ingredients, then sauté ingredients over medium heat until garlic becomes translucent, about two minutes. Stir constantly. Remove from heat, set aside.

Prepare your choice of pasta according to package directions. I prefer mini farfalle. About two minutes before pasta is done, ladle out one cup of pasta water and add to spice mixture. Stir well, cook over medium heat, two minutes. Drain pasta. Top with sauce.

Taste of the South

     As the sweet smell of mixed berries and sugar filled the room, the only audible noise was groans of eagerness and anticipation. My roommates kept peaking over my shoulder as I would continually check on the cobbler. Its golden brown edges clung to the pan and the berries peaked through the pie mixture, as flowers play peak-a-boo with long grass reeds in the spring. There faces screamed excitement as I pulled the cobbler from the oven. Although they smelt cinnamon and sugared blackberries, I smelt comfort and reminisced memories of my grandmother.

     There’s something about smells. Smells instigate familiarity, comfort, and security. Being raised in an Italian family, all smells from the kitchen initiate feelings of comfort, and bring endless memories of love. The life I have been raised in surrounds food. My dad owns a food distribution company and sells food for a living. Even though my mom has her own personal career as a CPA, she is an Italian wife, and it is the job of all of the women in my family to cook. I have been raised with the notion that one day I will have to make a man happy and cook for him daily. It is my duty and I will love doing it.

     Cooking and baking is a dying art, as women today are more inclined to pursue business-like careers, spending less time in the kitchen, unable to satisfy the grumbling desires of her family’s stomachs. I hope one day to have a family of my own and my children associate smells from the kitchen as I do. I hope when they smell all the garlic and basil and aregano, they think of a mother’s love as I do with mine. And when they smell brown sugar and cinnamon, their grandmother’s incessant hugs and kisses flood their thoughts.

     This week, I made my roommates a mixed-berry cobbler. My dad’s side of the family is from the south, so I have been immersed in a mix of Italian dishes, as well as southern comfort food. One of my favorite dishes my grandmother taught me was her berry cobbler. The dish is simple, yet tastes extravagant. Sharing this experience with my roommates, I hope that they too can share the same experience, as I shared with my grandmother, with their future children or grandchildren.

             

Recipe:

2 cups fresh berries

1 cup flour

1 tsp. baking powder

2/3 cup sugar

2/3 cup milk

First, mix together the flour, baking powder, sugar, and milk. Melt 1 stick of butter in square baking dish.  Pour flour mixture on top of butter. Add 1/3 cup sugar to 2 cups berries. If using frozen or fresh berries, add 1/4 cup of water to sugar.  Pour on top of flour mixture.  Bake at 350 until starts to brown on top--about 45 minutes.