DEPRESSION MEATBALLS
MAKES ABOUT 10 MEATBALLS
Back when times were tough, most people used bread crumbs to stretch their meat, whether it was for meatballs or meat loaf. You could stretch 2 pounds of meat into 4 pounds of food that way. But when things were really bad, and there was no meat at all, you had to improvise. Especially during the Depression days, our grandmother had to figure out how to cook with nothing. She’d make these “meatballs,” which were just bread crumbs, parsley, cheese, and garlic, and then fry ’em like little matzo balls or croquettes. Growin’ up, luckily, our moms made these just because they’re delicious. If they were already breading chicken or pork cutlets or shrimp Milanese, they’d take the leftover crumbs, throw a couple eggs in there, and cook ’em up.
4 large eggs
3 cups Secret Bread Crumbs (here)
1 cup grated pecorino
4 garlic cloves, minced
3 tablespoons chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley
¼ cup olive oil
In a medium bowl, combine the eggs, bread crumbs, cheese, garlic, and parsley and mix well. Use your hands to make golf ball–size balls, then flatten them.
Heat the oil in a skillet over medium heat and fry the meatballs until golden on all sides. Transfer to a paper towel and enjoy.
FRANKIE’S VEAL CUTLETS
SERVES 4
As you’ve probably noticed, our food always comes with a story, and this dish is no different. This one starts with Fran’s father’s father—the original Francis Garcia. He was Portuguese, which is how the name “Garcia” got into our Italian family. Our grandmother was the only one of her twelve sisters to marry a non-Italian. But no one cared because Francis was a successful immigration lawyer. He was the first Portuguese lawyer admitted to the bar and he went on to pass an amendment to the Bill of Rights. The guy even went to three presidential inaugurations. And even better, he was a Staten Islander.
Fran’s dad, Francis Garcia II, didn’t exactly follow in his father’s footsteps—he and Fran’s mom had seven or eight businesses that failed before he took a city job with the transit authority. And his favorite thing to eat was this dish, which his mother made for him.
When Fran left his mom’s restaurant at twenty-three, he opened his own shop, Ciao Bella, on Main Street in Staten Island. He only ran it for a year—he sold it to some Albanians for a decent profit after turnin’ around the business—but people still talk about the place. Just the other day someone was at our Fourteenth Street location askin’ about it. And the cops all remember it since there was a police station just down the street. Well, this was somethin’ that Fran always made for his dad, just the way he liked it—a fried cutlet topped with tomato and onion, drizzled with olive oil, and seasoned with nothin’ but salt, pepper, and oregano.
2 large eggs
½ cup whole milk
1 cup Dry Bread Crumbs (here)
4 (4-ounce) veal cutlets, pounded thin (to about ⅛ inch)
¾ cup olive oil
1 large tomato, sliced into ¼-inch wheels
½ medium white onion, sliced
2 pinches of salt
2 pinches of pepper
2 pinches of oregano
In a medium bowl, whisk together the eggs and milk until well combined.
In a second medium bowl, add the bread crumbs.
Place the cutlets in the egg and milk mixture and let them soak, completely submerged, for a minute. Transfer them to the bread crumbs and generously bread them to coat.
Put a medium frying pan over medium heat and add ½ cup of olive oil. When the oil shimmers, add the cutlets and fry until golden brown on both sides, 1 to 2 minutes a side.
Remove the cutlets and top with a layer of tomato slices and a layer of onion slices. Pour the remaining olive oil over the top, then sprinkle with the salt, pepper, and oregano.
VEAL AND MUSHROOM STEW
SERVES 4 TO 6
Frank Roma was a Staten Island legend. No joke. In the seventies, eighties, and even the nineties, his restaurant, Roma’s, was an institution, and we’re willin’ to bet that if you were livin’ there then, you’ll know exactly who this guy was. Well, in 1995 he had to close his restaurant. Thing was, the guy was like ninety-two, ninety-three years old. Most people would retire, right? Not Frank Roma. He had that old-school workin’ mentality—he needed to work. And the guy could still freakin’ cook. So he came to Fran’s mother at Basille’s and asked her for a job. At first she was like, “Frank, I can’t afford you,” but ultimately she paid him basically to just have him around, give him a place to hang his hat and cook. It wasn’t really like he could keep up; it was like havin’ your grandfather in the kitchen. He’d come in when he felt like it, prep a few specials, and then be sittin’ in the back on a bucket with a towel on his head. But the best thing he did was he taught us things. He was always tellin’ us how we could save here and there just by using ingredients more than one way, usin’ scraps—“Don’t waste nothin’,” he used to say. Some of the things we politely ignored, like using margarine instead of butter—he was always tellin’ us it was cheaper but still had butter flavor, but we didn’t like how it separated in the sauce and got all nasty—but one thing we really ran with was this stew. He’d make it using all the veal scraps that you couldn’t butcher into cutlets. Then he’d cook it slow with sherry wine and mushrooms, and it was just outta this world.
1 cup all-purpose flour
2 pounds veal, cubed
4 tablespoons (½ stick) butter
¼ cup olive oil
2 (8-ounce) packages of button mushrooms, sliced into thirds
2 white onions, finely chopped
½ bunch fresh flat-leaf parsley, leaves and stems chopped
2 cups sherry cooking wine
2 cups beef stock
1 (6-ounce) can tomato paste
4 pinches of black pepper
2 dried bay leaves
In a large saucepan, heat the butter and olive oil over medium heat. Add the veal cubes and sear the meat until golden brown on all sides.
Add the mushrooms and onions and cook until the onions soften and the mushrooms get tender, about 10 minutes.
Throw in the parsley, then stir in the sherry, beef stock, tomato paste, and pepper and cook for 5 to 7 minutes before adding the bay leaves.
Bring the pot to a simmer and cook for 1 ½ hours, stirring occasionally. Every now and then stop what you’re doin’ and smell the stew. Isn’t that nice? Makes us feel like dancin’.
STUFFED MEAT LOAF
SERVES 4
It doesn’t get much better than meat loaf stuffed with Genoa salami, ham, hard-boiled eggs, and provolone and topped with bacon. This wasn’t something that showed up on our table, but the recipe comes from a friend’s ninety-year-old aunt, Louisa Marielli, who’s Staten Island through and through.
2 pounds ground beef
5 large eggs
1 cup Secret Bread Crumbs (here)
1 bunch fresh flat-leaf parsley, leaves and stems chopped
½ cup grated pecorino
2 pinches of black pepper
4 hard-boiled eggs, sliced
¼ pound thinly sliced Genoa salami
¼ pound thinly sliced boiled ham
¼ pound thinly sliced provolone
5 russet potatoes, cut into wedges
1 onion, sliced
1 (15-ounce) can green peas
2 (15-ounce) cans tomato sauce, preferably Del Monte
6 slices bacon
Preheat the oven to 375°F.
In a large bowl, mix together the ground beef, raw eggs, bread crumbs, parsley, cheese, and pepper like you’re makin’ meatballs.
Spread the mixture evenly in a large baking pan. Layer the hard-boiled eggs, salami, ham, and cheese on top. Then, starting on one of the shorter ends, carefully “roll” the meat closed so it forms a loaf. Add the potatoes, onion, and peas to the pan around the meat loaf, then pour in the tomato sauce. Fill the two tomato sauce cans with water and add that too. Lay the bacon over the meatloaf and transfer to the oven. Bake for 1 ¼ hours, or until the potatoes are soft.
UNCLE VITO’S RABBITS
STEWED, ROASTED, OR COOKED IN SAUCE
Sal’s father used to raise rabbits. He’d mate them, look after them for three, four months, then kill ’em and cook ’em. We would play with them and name them, and then, yeah, we’d eat them. Sometimes he’d make us kill ’em too—said it would make us tough. One of his favorite things to do was serve the rabbits to people and tell them it was chicken. Some surprise, huh? Our uncle Frankie would call him a “born-again Barbarian.”
But really, they were pretty good. You could make ’em any way you would make chicken too—browned and stewed, roasted in the oven, or cooked in sauce like pizzaiola. All that variation was a good thing because when it was time to kill the rabbits, that meant Sal’s family would be eatin’ ’em every night for like two weeks straight.
STEWED
SERVES 3
4 tablespoons olive oil
1 (3-pound) rabbit, cut into 2-inch pieces (ask your butcher to do it for you if you’re feeling squeamish), washed and patted dry
Salt and black pepper
2 cups all-purpose flour
½ cup dry red wine
1 large Spanish onion, diced
1 bunch carrots, chopped into 1-inch pieces
2 stalks celery, chopped
4 garlic cloves, minced
2 tablespoons tomato paste
4 cups chicken stock
2 sprigs fresh rosemary, tied into a bundle with kitchen twine
4 medium russet potatoes, peeled and quartered
1 (16-ounce) bag frozen peas
1 tablespoon chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley
Preheat the oven to 350°F.
In a large pan, heat 2 to 3 tablespoons of the olive oil over medium-high heat. Season the rabbit with salt and pepper and dredge it in flour until well coated. Add the rabbit to the pan and cook until golden brown and crispy, 10 to 15 minutes. Transfer the pieces to a plate and set aside.
Add the wine to the pot and let it reduce for about 2 minutes as you scrape the bottom of the pot to loosen any of the good browned bits. Pour the contents of the pan into a cup or small bowl and set aside.
In a large saucepot or Dutch oven, heat the remaining olive oil over medium heat. Add the onion, carrots, celery, and garlic and cook until soft and browned, 10 to 15 minutes. Add the rabbit and the tomato paste and stir just to blend everything together. Pour in the chicken stock and the reserved reduced pan liquid and add the rosemary, then partially cover with a lid and cook for about 30 minutes.
Add the potatoes to the pot, then cover the pot completely with the lid and transfer to the oven. Bake for 1 to 1 ½ hours, or until the rabbit is fork-tender. Stir in the peas and parsley. Allow the stew to rest, covered, for 15 minutes, then serve.
ROASTED
SERVES 3
1 (3-pound) rabbit, cut into 8 to 10 pieces (ask your butcher to do it for you if you’re feeling squeamish), washed and patted dry
1 cup olive oil
2 large onions, sliced
2½ pounds russet potatoes, peeled and cut into cubes
2 sprigs fresh rosemary
3 large red bell peppers, seeded and sliced
3 large yellow bell peppers, seeded and sliced
Salt and black pepper
½ cup beef stock
Preheat the oven to 400°F.
Put the rabbit in a large roasting pan with all the ingredients except the salt, pepper, and stock. Mix, season with salt and pepper, then roast for about 30 minutes. Take the pan out of the oven and turn the rabbit pieces so they brown on both sides. Add the stock and cook for 30 to 40 minutes more, until all the rabbit pieces are golden brown.
COOKED IN SAUCE
SERVES 3
¼ cup olive oil
2 medium white onions, diced
1 (3-pound) rabbit, cut into 1½-inch cubes (ask your butcher to do it for you if you’re feeling squeamish), washed and patted dry
6 garlic cloves
4 (24-ounce) jars peeled Italian tomatoes, strained and seeded
Salt and black pepper
1 bunch fresh basil
1 box of your favorite pasta
In a large saucepot, heat the olive oil over medium to high heat. Add the onions and rabbit and brown together. When lightly browned, stir in the garlic with a spoon. When everything is a nice golden brown, add the tomatoes and season with salt and pepper. Bring the mixture to a boil, then lower the heat to medium.
Cook, uncovered, for 1 ½ hours, stirring occasionally with a wooden spoon to prevent the sauce from sticking to the bottom of the pan.
Remove the pot from the heat, add the basil, and let it sit for 30 minutes more.
Meanwhile, bring a pot of salted water to a boil. Cook your favorite pasta. Serve the rabbit spooned over the top of the pasta. The kids will think it’s chicken!