SAUCE, GRAVY, SUNDAY SAUCE, "RED SAUCE" or SUGO ? What is it. It can be a couple different things. It depends on who you are talking to, if they are Italian-American or not, where their family comes from in Italy, and what Italian Enclave in America they grew up in : New York City, Boston, New Jersey, Baltimore, Cleveland, Chicago, or wherever?
Some, when they say Sauce, Sugo, or Gravy, they can be talking about a Tomato Sauce that was cooked with or without meat in it. They can be talking about a Tomato Sauce that was cooked with Meat in it, and the Sauce is served, dressing Maccheroni, but with the Sauce removed, for the Meat ( or Meats) to be served later in the meal, or put aside, refrigerated and served at another time.
Usually, when someone says "Gravy" they are referring to a sauce made with Tomatoes that meats, such as Italian Sausages, Braciola, Pork Ribs, Meatballs, and or Pork or Beef Neck, maybe chicken parts, Beef Chuck, or veal, in which the sauce is cooked with any combination of some of these meats mentioned, and possibly other meats, such as Lamb or Beef Short Ribs, whatever?
There is no one right answer to what is Italian-American Gravy, "Sauce" Sunday Gravy, Sugo, or Sunday Sauce. Again, it just depends on who is talking and their family background and history. There is now one standard answer, "No Right or Wrong." The main and most important thing is that the dish taste good.
Ragù in Naples is religion. A preparation that takes a very long time and requires considerable attention: it is not enough to cook meat and sauce for a long time. It takes seven or eight hours for this Sunday lunch dressing, so much so that the most shrewd recipes recommend leaving on Saturday: in fact, although in Naples you have a late lunch, and on Sunday even more, you should wake up before dawn to be ready just in time. In addition, the next day the sauce, as happens with many traditional preparations, condenses and settles, becoming even richer and full of nuances.
Eduardo De Filippo's memorable comedy, Saturday, Sunday and Monday, revolves around a meat sauce, and in the most realistic stagings the initial sauté is really prepared, spreading an incredible smell from the stage to the whole theater. Eduardo himself dedicated a short and beautiful poem to the ragù. The most evident peculiarity of the Neapolitan ragù is that, unlike the Bolognese sauce, the meat is not minced but comes in whole pieces: hence both the need to cook longer, and the possibility of having a complete meal, sauce to season the pasta and meat for the main course. The long preparation makes this recipe perfect for when we have a lot of time to spend at home: let's give it a try.
Meat and other ingredients of Neapolitan Ragù
What is the right meat to make ragù? Here there are as many versions as there are families in Naples and its surroundings. The general agreement is that a mixture of types is needed, certainly beef, but going into the specifics here are the differences: there are those who mix beef and pork and those who consider pork out of place; there are those who put sausages and those who even put meatballs in it; There are those who make a rind roll and those who add the further complication of the chop. Which is not grilled meat but the way it is called a particular wrap made with the locena (under the shoulder), stuffed with salt, pepper, raisins, pine nuts, chopped garlic and parsley, diced pecorino cheese.
Let's take an average between the most fundamentalist traditions and a availability within anyone's reach, and let's get the following cuts: a first choice of beef such as colarda (culata) or pezza a cinnamon (shoulder), a second choice such as lacerto (girello or magatello), a cut of pork such as tracchie or tracchiulelle (trimmings). Another key ingredient is tomato paste. Finally, the ideal would be to cook the Neapolitan-style ragù in the cuoccio, which is a terracotta pot.
The preparation of Neapolitan ragù
Sauté the onion in extra virgin olive oil, very gently. Add the meat and brown it well on all sides, always over low heat. Let it evaporate with the wine, strictly red: this operation should be carried out several times, not in one fell swoop. Then add the tomato paste a little at a time, making sure that it darkens but does not burn. During these operations, the meat will have to be turned over several times, so it is not the time to move away and lose sight of the sauce. Finally, add the tomato puree, possibly with half a glass of water, no more, and raising the heat gently, and for no more than a few minutes, just to rebalance the insertion of cold ingredients.
At this point, and at least two hours will have passed, the ragù must pippiare: this is the secret of the Neapolitan ragù, an effect that does not correspond precisely to the Italian simmering, and which consists of a slow evaporation, which produces an almost imperceptible noise and a movement bordering on the invisible on the surface of the sauce. To obtain it, it must not be covered - otherwise all the steam would condense and fall back into the sauce, watering it down - nor leave uncovered, at the risk of not being able to keep the temperature stable: place the lid slightly offset on one side, and held up on the other side with the inevitable wooden spoon.
This very thick and dark sauce is perfect for seasoning a large pasta such as paccheri, but its traditional accompaniment is smooth zite broken by hand. Welcome to Naples.
If you're looking for a hot and cozy fall recipe, look no further than Rao's. Known for its exclusivity and esteemed reputation, New York City's Rao's restaurant has been serving up authentic Italian food since 1896.
Here, Dino Gatto, the Executive Chef of New York City's Rao's Restaurant, shares his tips for how to make the juiciest meatballs:
For mouthwatering meatballs it's important to only use the freshest and best quality products.
In this recipe, you will find that we add the water, cheese and breadcrumbs in layers, which allows the breadcrumbs to be separate from the water. If you add the water, then breadcrumbs ... by the time you get started to mix, the water will be absorbed into the bread and will be hard to mix and dry, which also makes it hard to roll.
The longer the meatballs simmer in the sauce, the softer they will be inside and also have the crust from them being fried.
"RAO'S"
East Harlem
New York City
RAOS MEATBALL Recipe :
Ingredients :
1 pound Ground Beef
1/2 pound Ground Veal
1/2 pound Ground Pork
2 Eggs (beaten)
1 cup grated Parmesan Cheese
2 tablespoon fresh chopped Italian Parsley
1 teaspoon each Sea Salt & ground Black Pepper
1 Garlic clove, peeled and minced fine
2 cups fresh Breadcrumbs
1 cup water
1 cup Olive Oil
1 Garlic clove, mashed
1. In a large mixing bowl, add the Beef, Veal, Pork, Parmesan, parsley, salt & black pepper, minced garlic, and mix together using your hands (don't overmix).
2. Add the bread breadcrumbs to the meat, and combine. Slowly add the water a little at a time as you mix with your hands.
3. Shape the mixture into 3" Meatballs.
4. Add the Olive Oil to a large frying pan with the mashed Garlic. Cook the Garlic until it is lightly browned. Remove the garlic and discard.
5. Fry the Meatballs in batches, browning on all sides.
6. Frying the Meatballs in batches, remove the browned Meatballs, and set aside on a plate.
7. Once all the Meatballs have browned, cook the Meatballs in Tomato Sauce for 15 - 20 minutes, at a slow simmer.
Serve with Spaghetti or other Pasta, or make a Nice Meatball Sandwich.
IItalian cuisine offers much more than the well-loved pizza and pasta. beautifully demonstrates how simple ingredients can create something utterly delicious. My aunt from Italy reminds me of this, who prepares a mouth-watering casserole that leaves not a single drop of sauce on the plate, much to our family's delight.
The secret to an outstanding Parmigiana lies in the eggplant preparation. By thinly slicing the vegetables, sprinkling them with salt, placing them in a colander, and weighing them down, you can draw out their natural bitterness in about an hour, leaving them wonderfully tender.
EGGPLANT PARMIGIANA - Recipe :
28 ounce can of whole San Marzano Tomatoes,
2 eggplants,
7 oz of mozzarella,
3.5 oz of grated Parmesan,
1 oz of olive oil,
2 cloves of garlic,
6 fresh basil leaves,
salt and black pepper to taste
Warm the olive oil in a pan. Add the crushed garlic and gently sauté on low heat. Mix in the Tomatoes, breaking them apart with a spoon.
Season with salt, pepper, and basil, letting it simmer on low heat for 15-20 minutes until the sauce thickens.
Slice the eggplants about 0.4 inches thick. To remove bitterness, sprinkle them with salt and wait for 30 minutes, then rinse and pat dry with a paper towel.
In a pan, heat some oil and fry the eggplants in batches until each side is golden brown.
In an ovenproof dish, lay down a base of tomato sauce, followed by a layer of eggplant. Sprinkle Parmesan and dot pieces of mozzarella on top.
Continue layering until all the ingredients are used. Finish with a topping of tomato sauce and cheese.
Bake in a preheated oven at 350 degrees Fahrenheit for 20-25 minutes or until the cheese has melted and the dish is beautifully golden on top.
A circa mid-1940s photograph of Veniero’s. Pictured from left to right are Peter Veniero, the son of Veniero’s founder, Antonio Veniero; Frank Catinella, a cousin of Robert Zerilli’s father, Frank Zerilli, and a manager at the bakery; an unidentified employee; Frank Zerilli, then also a manager.Credit...Courtesy of Veniero’s
More than two million Italians arrived in New York between the late 1880s and the early 1910s, many coming through Ellis Island and most desperately poor. Large numbers settled in Harlem, the Bronx and Brooklyn; others headed to Lower Manhattan, in particular to Greenwich Village —along Sullivan and Bleecker Streets — and, most famously, to the area surrounding Mulberry Street that would become the Little Italy of the Lower East Side.
Antonio Veniero, born near Sorrento in 1870, arrived in New York when he was 15 and went to work in a candy factory. He bought the building on East 11th Street in 1894 and began producing his own handmade confectionery there; when customers asked for something to go with it, he began offering espresso and biscotti. It was backbreaking work: There was no electricity; ice came in hundred-pound blocks; deliveries were made on horse-pulled carts. Pastry was baked in a coal oven in the store’s backyard, which is now part of the cafe.
Zerilli’s father, Frank, began working at Veniero’s in the 1930s and bought the business in 1970. Zerilli did weekend shifts at the bakery in the late ’70s and came on full time in 1981. He opened the back-room cafe in 1994, the year of the store’s 100th anniversary. His father died one month later. Both Zerilli and Frankie went to college before returning to work at the store but Zerilli often says to his son, “Remember, Grandpa said, ‘The best college is right here.’” He shows me a favorite photo of his father with the other Frank, Sinatra that is, taken around 1980. Sinatra, looking amiable, his arm around Zerilli’s shoulders, wears a crucifix and is holding a cigarette and a large sesame seed biscuit in the same hand. “It’s called a regina,” says Angelo Santamaria, Veniero’s head pastry chef. “Sinatra liked it crunchy.”
"Frank & Frank"
SINATRA & ZERILLI
A photograph of Frank Sinatra and Frank Zerilli, circa 1979. Sinatra is holding a Regina Pastry that Veniero’s made specially for the singer, who liked them large with a crunchy exterior.Credit...
FRANK SINATRA'S FAVORITE COOKIES
BISCOTTI REGINELLE
aka REGINA COOKIES
The QUEEN'S COOKIES
Frank Sinatra had a standing order for these tasty Sicilian Cookies, that were
whipped from Veneer's to Frank's home in Palm Springs for years.
ALTHOUGH legal arguments have long echoed down the austere halls of the Criminal Court building on Centre Street, many spirited lawyerly discussions also occurred a few blocks east, in a dim, shoebox-sized Italian restaurant named Giambone. Now, as workers at Centre Street and other nearby courthouses dig into their fall workload, they are discovering that this neighborhood fixture is gone.
Located on a narrow stretch of Mulberry Street two blocks south of Canal, Giambone, a virtual clubhouse for lawyers, judges, cops and defendants with a history as rich as its clam sauce, closed its doors in June. It was a victim of 9/11 and the sluggish economy, which all but eliminated the evening dinner crowd.
Originally housed in a marble-floored basement, which served it well during Prohibition, the restaurant was opened in 1914 by a strapping fellow named Italo Susi, who went by the nickname Giambone. In 1935, after the upstairs tenant, a Western Union office, left, Italo moved his eatery aboveground and, along with his son Tony, built the place into a bustling, neighborhood joint.
Within a stone's throw of various courthouses, Giambone was a natural choice for people who worked at the courthouse or merely visited it from time to time, like the mobster John Gotti. Tony Susi, now 82, still remembers his introduction to the once-Teflon don.
''The goons came over and said, 'Would you accept John Gotti?' I said, 'Of course.' Then they said, 'Would you wait on him personally?' So I waited on him. We got along pretty well, too. I spoke to him in Italian.'' Mr. Gotti ordered the calamari and left a $125 tip.
Over the years, other celebrities passed through, including the comedian Pat Cooper, who wanted to kiss Mr. Susi upon tasting his Linguine alla Sinatra , a house specialty, and John F. Kennedy Jr., who nursed his wounds at Giambone after failing the bar exam for the second time.
But the true lure of Giambone remained its homey ambiance. The décor -- rickety tables, taxidermied fish on the wall -- was as unfashionable as your grandfather's basement, and nearly as dusty. The menu was varied but never fancy. And Mr. Susi, by all accounts a gracious host, presided over a cast of regulars that included a fellow named Louie Beans, a struggling lounge singer named Detie Baxter, and Louis Martine, a big, garrulous prankster.
Asked about the many stunts he pulled at Giambone, Mr. Martine, a retired lawyer, fondly recalled the sweltering day he sent two colleagues on a goose chase in search of a Chinese tailor rumored to sell cheap suits. ''By the time the guys got back, they were walking swimming pools,'' he said with a laugh. ''They were mad as hell.''
There is another reason to mourn Giambone. Except for a half-Italian, half-Chinese place next door, it was the last Italian restaurant on Mulberry Street below Canal.
Next month the space will reopen as a Chinese furniture store, furthering the Asian dominance of an area that, according to Mr. Susi, once housed seven Italian restaurants.
Mr. Susi retired in 1990, selling the restaurant to a man named Joseph Elias. Bob Jenny, a spokesman for New York City Management, the owner of the building, said that Mr. Elias informed the company last spring that he was closing the struggling business. Mr. Elias could not be reached for comment.
For its many former customers, the bottom line is that the restaurant will be missed. ''It's left a hole in the neighbor- hood,''' said Robert M. Morgenthau, the Manhattan district attorney and a longtime regular. ''Now, we go to Odeon or Forlini's.''
