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If it’s Sunday …
May 1, 2007 | 12 Comments
it’s got to be gravy at the Italian-American table.
Our Postcards Series is about extending a handshake across cyberspace. Read about it here.
Please accord a warm welcome to our guest contributors. They will try to respond to comments and questions.
Susan, the Food Blogga can cook. Yeah, the gal can COOK. And WRITE. And TAKE GREAT PICTURES. That makes for one heck of a blog. Her site is relatively new, but has a large, committed following that includes us. In her own words, “Growing up in an Italian family, food was central in everything we did from weddings to funerals to ordinary Sunday afternoons. Now living away from home, I have come to realize that so many of my memories and emotions relate to eating and sharing food with those I love.”
Now based in southern California, Susan flavours all her posts with memories of growing up in Providence, Rhode Island surrounded by her closely-knit Italian-American family. This one, written especially for us, is quite special.
Picture by Jai, 2005.
Bring Back Sunday Dinner
Hey, come over here, kid, learn something. You never know, you might have to cook for twenty guys someday. You see, you start out with a little bit of oil. Then you fry some garlic. Then you throw in some tomatoes, tomato paste, you fry it; ya make sure it doesn’t stick. You get it to a boil; you shove in all your sausage and your meatballs; heh?… And a little bit o’ wine. An’ a little bit o’ sugar, and that’s my trick.
-Clemenza teaching Michael to cook. The Godfather, Part I.
When Jeff and I were dating, we would on occasion deliver papers for his family’s Sunday morning paper route. I distinctly remember his mother’s detailed descriptions of whose paper went where: Mr. Lisi, the front door, Ms. Vitale, the side door, the Di Fuscos, the front door if the screen was open but the back if it was locked. I also distinctly remember the smell that hit you when you walked up each of the little driveways early in the morning and opened the screen doors. Not coffee, not maple syrup, not bacon and eggs, but gravy.
Many Italian-Americans on the East Coast refer to tomato sauce that is cooked with meat (pork and/or beef) as “gravy“. To make it correctly takes hours, and where we grew up, every Italian-American woman with any pride started the gravy at breakfast to be ready for 2:00 Sunday dinner.
Though every family had variations, the basic premise was the same: braise cuts of pork (sausages or other cuts from the butcher) in garlic and olive oil. Make a sauce from fresh or canned tomatoes. Then make a huge batch of meatballs to be added to the gravy. Last, make the pasta, which was always cavatelli. Cavatelli (pronounced cah-va-ti or cah-va-tel by most Rhode Islanders) was never a mid-week pasta, maybe because it never made as much as other types of pasta, like spaghetti, and because it was more expensive. Add some chicken (on the side), salad, a loaf of crusty Italian bread, and some red wine (just from a screw top gallon or in my parents’ generation, homemade wine), and Sunday dinner was complete.
It was exactly the same every Sunday, (save for a few radical variations like raisins in the meatballs or prunes in the gravy in the 80s) yet we always looked forward to it. My mother, like her mother before her, managed to make a hearty meal for the whole family without blowing the weekly budget. From the time my hands were big enough to roll the meatballs, it became my contribution. Standing in the kitchen for hours with my mom never seemed like a chore to me; we talked and laughed the entire time I rolled the meatballs, without regard to my cold, wrinkled fingers. There was never a recipe–you just knew how they should look, feel, and smell.
The amazing thing is long before we knew each other, 6 miles away at Jeff’s house, at that very same moment on Sunday mornings, his mother and grandmother would be in their kitchen cooking the gravy and rolling the meatballs.
Jeff’s contribution at his house was periodically dunking the bread in the gravy. Who could blame him? Everyone knows that’s the best part.
Sadly, I can’t imagine cooking these Sunday dinners today; it seems old-fashioned. Instead, we quickly cook some tomatoes on the stove top, add some fresh basil, and we’re done. Who’s got 6 hours to make the Sunday dinner? Most of us are too busy; today we are a “30-minute-meal”; society. But then I think, weren’t our mothers busy too? How did they do it?
I sometimes wonder if I would have preferred to have been born in my parents’ generation; my mother tells me I romanticize this. Yet, there is something comforting about the predictability of a ritual like making the gravy on Sundays. In fact, Jeff and I have lived away from home for about 10 years, and while we love our independence, we still reminisce about Sunday dinners. It’s not just the food we miss, but the people. The way no one would dare eat until my grandmother was situated at the table. The way Jeff’s grandfather would always be the last to finish – usually after the dishes were already cleared. I remember the kitchen windows steaming up from the simmering gravy as I stood next to my mother talking and rolling and stirring. Even though I haven’t made a meatball in close to 20 years, I still remember exactly how to do it.
This past Sunday, I rolled up my sleeves and rolled out some meatballs. Starting early (well, after the gym anyway) Jeff and I made Sunday dinner for two. The sound of the wooden spoon banging on the pot to shake off the gravy, the sight of bits of red tomato splattered on the white stove, and the smell of frying meatballs brought us right back. If only we could have everyone over.
Did you (or do you still) have a Sunday dinner tradition?
Italian-American Gravy
4 sweet Italian sausage links
2 (28-ounce) cans of San Marzano tomatoes
2 Tbsp olive oil
1 large onion
2 garlic cloves, finely chopped
½ cup red wine
1 tsp crushed red pepper
Salt, to taste
Meatballs:
1 pound of ground beef (I used lean)
1 cup breadcrumbs
1/3 cup grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese
¼ cup chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley
1 large egg, lightly beaten
Salt and black pepper, to taste
1/8 cup olive oil
1/8 cup vegetable oil
1 pound of pasta
1/2 cup grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese
Gravy:
In a large skillet, heat olive oil, and add the sausages. Cook about 3-4 minutes on each side until browned; remove from heat.
Pour the San Marzano tomatoes in a large bowl, and crush them with your hands (or use a food mill if you prefer).
Heat the olive oil in a deep pot; add onions and garlic, and sauté until slightly browned, about 3-5 minutes. Pour in the tomatoes (with their juice), red wine, crushed red pepper, and salt. Bring to a boil; reduce to a simmer, for about 30 minutes, stirring occasionally. If the sauce becomes too thick, simply add a bit of water.
Find your mother or daughter or other suitable companion, then…
Place the meat in a large bowl. Add the breadcrumbs, cheese, and parsley. In a small bowl, beat the egg with some salt and pepper; add to the meat mixture. Mix the ingredients with your hands until the consistency is moist and the meat holds together well. If it’s too dry, add some water or another beaten egg. If it’s too moist, add more breadcrumbs. Once the consistency is right, using your hands, roll the meatballs into 1 ½ inch balls. It should make about 20-22 meatballs.
Mix the olive and vegetable oils in a large skillet over medium heat. Fit as many meatballs in the skillet as you can without overcrowding so you have room to turn them. Cook about 2-3 minutes until browned, then turn over and cook another 2-3 minutes, until all sides are browned. Place on a paper towel to absorb any excess oil. Repeat as necessary.
Once all the meatballs are cooked, add them to the pot of gravy; add the sausages as well. Simmer for an additional 30 minutes (to several hours if you want to be authentic).
In the meantime, cook pasta in salted water according to the directions. I like them al dente. Once cooked, add the gravy, top with meatballs and sausages, and sprinkle with grated Parmigiano-Reggiano.
I consulted Lidia Bastianich’s website LidiasItaly.com for assistance with measurements and instructions, though the recipe is basically my family’s.
“Hey, I can’t eat this crap. Bring me some pasta with gravy and meatballs.
-Paulie Walnuts to Italian waiter after being served a plate of seafood pasta while visiting Italy. The Sopranos.
**This piece was written for Jugalbandi and first appeared here.
Picture by Jai, 1997
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Filed Under: -american-gravy, America, italian, lifestyle, meatballs, MUSINGS, Postcards, TRAVEL, vegetarian recipes
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12 Comments
Love the brilliant red of the gravy suspended above the pot! Our Sunday lunch tradition now is either frenzied cooking of 3-4-5 dishes which will serve us for the next three days or not to cook at all and focus on cleaning out the scraps and bits left over from the previous days!
I saw this at her blog too.She is great,love her writing and of course food as well!:))
It was an amazing piece to read. We had Sunday rituals while growing up.Now none. Your post was so inspirational. Thank you,Susan.
That was such a nice writing…it made me nostalgic thinking of lazy Sunday afternoons and a lunch of mutton curry and rice
Thanks Susan & Bee
We do have a Sunday ritual of sorts – brunch! But it is always something different, usually something new! I think regularity and predictability are good things – just like Divali sweets – we know what to expect.
Beautiful post. Thank you Susan and Bee.
Reading this, I suddenly want to start a weekend meal tradition…something beyond our current Saturday night “nice meal with wine”. My family did have a Sunday lunch tradition…my mother would often Sunday morning cooking to make a spectacular biryani for lunch, or we would have Kolhapuri rassa. Heavy Sunday lunch and then a siesta
Thanks, Susan, for the lovely essay and Bee and Jai, for bringing it to us.
We have a weekend breakfast tradition. Usually Saturdays. I sleep. They make pancakes. I am woken up when my tea is ready. I drink my tea and go back to sleep. Bliss! No wonder I always miss the Farmers Market!
change it to sundays then, plus make them bring you tea on saturday evenings after your noon siesta. – b.
Nostalgia!!! We have a tradition for brunch here. Thanks Susan, B-J for this piece.
Brought back good memories of childhood. My mom used to make masala dosas every Sunday with sambhar and white channa curry and cilantro in both just for me and cilantro was substituted by curry leaves for others
when i was a kid we used to have beef fry every sunday for lunch:)
nice posting.
Funny, in New Orleans they call it Red Gravy, which I always thought was weird. Not so weird, I guess.
Lovely post. I’m not a fan of traditions in general, but I can understand the nostalgia for a slower pace and time.
Susan thats a very emotional post. Thanks for sharing. We had a tradition of Sunday BF and lunch with 18 people cramped in a room, water spilling from glasses, kids heaping plates
. We too miss it all. Now most meals we are just 2.
Thank you all for your kind words.