The Two Palaverers

Boston's North End in the 1950s

Childhood memories, unlike other thoughts, have strong emotional dimensions that include amplified aspects of sight and smell. I discovered that food, because of its social and sensuous qualities, unlocks a treasure chest of childhood memories. With this in mind, I decided to use food to probe into the childhood memories of my in-laws and garner insight into ethnic New England during the Great Depression. So often we think about our region and its colonial past, town greens, and white church steeples, yet we forge many of the ethnic threads that combine to form the broader New England fabric.

From Old Italy to New England

Isabel and Bert Ciampa 1950

My in-laws, Umberto and Isabel (Celani) Ciampa, grew up in Boston’s Italian North End during the Great Depression. They rarely speak about their past unless they are reminiscing with their contemporaries at some gathering such as a wedding or (more frequently) a wake. I found the best way to gain any insight into their childhoods was to be direct and use their culinary memories as a catalyst. For the most part, after some prodding, they appeased me. I’m not quite sure why it is so difficult to get them to share their stories; perhaps they consider their lives nothing special or extraordinary. Nonetheless, they just can’t understand why someone would find their lives interesting.

Once they begin articulating these fascinating, often-humorous childhood stories, the details innocently reveal a side of them rarely seen. Their tales not only shed light on a generation, but also introduce me to friends and family who seem to exist only in old photographs. I’ve had the privilege of subsequently meeting some of them, but their numbers are diminishing, a loss for all of us. These stories fill in missing gaps and explain the idiosyncrasies and unique views of my in-laws, particularly when it comes to food.

Bert

My father-in-law, Umberto, “Bert,” was born in the North End on Charter Street, the third child of six children and second of four sons. His parents were from the villages around the southern Italian town of Avellino. His immediate family moved often and lived in various apartments in either the North End or the nearby Boston suburb of Medford.

Pepper and Egg Sandwiches

As a child, his mother would make him pepper and egg sandwiches for his school lunch. Frequently he would trade those sandwiches for a friend’s peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Why I asked? (I would have preferred the pepper & egg myself) “Because,” he replied, “it was something we never had at home and I loved it.” Then the stories began to flow.

Tripe

Bert immediately spoke of tripe, one of his favorite comfort foods. He laments that unlike during his youth, tripe appears less often on both kitchen tables and contemporary restaurant menus. He still enjoys it when he is fortunate enough to find it.

Homemade Fusilli

He then spoke glowingly about his mother making pasta every week and laying it upon their beds to dry; a favorite was fusilli, prepared by dexterously wrapping the dough around a dowel.

Basil and Gravy

His mother grew many things, including basil, which decorated windowsills and fire escapes. I would imagine if you closed your eyes, you’d smell the tomato, garlic and basil wafting from their open window to the street below. Sunday was “gravy” (tomato sauce with meat) day.

Isabel

My mother-in-law, Isabel (Lisa Bell on her birth certificate due to a poorly interpreted Italian accent) was also born in the North End, in a third floor walk-up apartment above Parziale’s Bakery (est 1907) on Prince Street. She was the sixth child of seven, and third girl of four daughters. Ironically, she and her sisters were not taught to cook by their Italian mother, who also came from a village not far from Avellino. This surprised me. One can only speculate the reasons: safety, duty, and impatience.

My mother-in-law has an aversion to basil, which surprised me, but she could never explain why. She learned how to cook from her mother-in-law after she got married, who, ironically, loved basil, but it didn’t matter. She speaks fondly about her father, a waiter at the Cantina Italiana (est 1931) on Hanover Street. He always cooked on Tuesday, his day off, while drinking wine and listening to Enrico Caruso.

Snails

Over lunch last fall, I asked her if she remembered having a favorite dish. “Oh, I loved the snails my mother would cook in garlic and oil.” Purchased by the bag from Giuffre’s Fish Market at the corner of Cross Street and Salem Street, the snails would constantly crawl out of the bag in the sink and up the kitchen walls. Members of the family would pluck them down and place them back into the bag until dinner.

Eels

After the snail account, she moved to speaking of eels. Prior to becoming part of a family meal, the eels occupied the family bathtub. This description evoked audible gasps from her grandsons, whichs turned into a discussion they won’t forget and will likely share with their own children.

Pigeons

Pigeons, locally grown and caught (meaning snatched via an open window from a windowsill) were another culinary delight in the North End, though not to my mother-in-law. I found this out the hard way. As a new bride, I carefully and meticulously prepared a special dinner for my new in-laws that would include Rock Cornish game hens à la Silver Palate. Four lovely, brown, succulent birds came out of my oven. When I placed upon the table, my mother-in-law proclaimed that she would not be able to eat dinner. Why I asked? (Shocked and disappointed for I knew she ate chicken- although never on the bone) “I cannot eat them because they remind me of the pigeons from the North End.” Wait. Wasn’t this the same woman who expressed such passion for snails?

Lentils

Both of my in-laws will not eat a lentil in any form. I discovered that they were not alone among many of their North End peers. The reason? Apparently there was a pasta and lentil dish from Campania that all the southern Italian children in the North End would be forced to eat regularly. How often? Enough that the mere taste of a lentil elicits a gag reflex. I surmise that this pasta and lentil dish comprised a protein-filled meatless meal, very economical for large families during the Great Depression.

And We Weave

Ironically, this is not just an Italian-American story, but also a New England narrative. Our region is home to many ethnic groups (Native American, French, Portuguese, Irish, Eastern European, Latino, Asian, Indian, African etc.) which share their history along with our colonial forefathers.

New England’s ethnic diversity is a true gift, one that is easily taken for granted, but noticeably absent in many areas of the country. Failing to capture these sometimes-quirky snippets from long ago means the human side of life gets buried with the storyteller.

Gather those family memories, stories and recipes from whichever New England state was home. For it is these seemingly insignificant threads that when woven together, create our regional, historical fabric. A fabric so strong, durable, and rich it can only be found here.

-Laura Ciampa, Palaverer Too

Historic city. Esteemed seafaring heritage. Some say she has seen better days. A pretty girl with a dirty face. Very proud people.

New Bedford, MA

The description could apply to either Naples, Italy or New Bedford, Massachusetts. Having spent time in both cities, we see the similarities even though thousands of miles separate them. Both, in our humble opinion, are worthy destinations and offer far more to the visitor than may be apparent on their often tired facades. They also have an intoxicating vibrancy, fed by well-needed renewals. That’s why we keep going back.

Recently, on a beautiful, spring Saturday, we headed down to Massachusetts’ South Coast for some research and relaxation. For those of you not familiar, South Coast is the term used to describe the non-Cape Cod coastal section of Massachusetts that extends from the canal to the border of Rhode Island. Like much of coastal New England, this region blends natural beauty, hardscrabble living, local rituals, and rich American history. It doesn’t have the crowds or the kitsch of the Cape, but offers travelers a rewarding, yet accessible experience to explore New England. On this particular day, we covered the entire length from Wareham to Westport and included our regular, requisite stop in New Bedford.

Travessia Urban Winery, New Bedford, MA

Our destination in New Bedford was Travessia, an urban winery in the heart of the city. Travessia is run by Marco Montez, whose love for the vine flows as beautifully as his wine. Marco is reinstituting the ancient tradition of vinification in a city, rather than in a remote, rural setting. He chose New Bedford and frequently uses locally-harvested grapes for his array of wines. Though he does business sixty miles from the capital of Massachusetts, Marco is well-known by the Boston wine community and justifiably so: he’s a passionate New Englander who cares deeply about his product and his ties to the South Coast. But we digress. Travessia was our expected destination, but another place in New Bedford became our unexpected destination.

On the way to Travessia, we passed what appeared to be yet another, undifferentiated pizza establishment. Laura grabbed my arm, pulled me to a stop and pointed me to the name, “Brick Pizzeria Napoletana.” I tuned out immediately, which is normally uncharacteristic for me (and Laura), except when it comes to pizza. We’ve had so many lackluster pizzas over the years despite searching endlessly for great ones. For some bizarre reason, we take our pizza seriously – very, very seriously. I’m trying rather hard not to turn this into a pizza post because that one is already in the works. Nonetheless, being too often disappointed, I find that the Naples designation applied to pizza only exacerbates my angst because it’s almost always not like real Naples. Hence, we moved on to Travessia for a pleasant tasting with Marco.

After sampling some great wine and purchasing some nice bottles, we headed back to the car. Again, Laura stopped me in front of Brick. “They’ve got a real wood fired oven in there!” she exclaimed. “Wood-fired bad pizza is still bad pizza,” I responded. She was undeterred and dragged me in. I’ve been married too long and know when resistance is futile. Once inside, my nose reacted to the aromas immediately. They registered “Naples, Italy.”  Wow. Interesting. I thought it was fluke and fought what my senses were telling me.

I saw the Caputo Flour in the kitchen, so I instantly knew they took their dough seriously. Then I saw the fresh mozzarella, the San Marzano tomatoes, and the sprigs of fresh basil. I started a conversation with John Goggin, the pizzaiolo, who was kind enough to give a skeptic like me history of the restaurant, a description of the ingredients, and a review of the baking process. In fairness to John, I did tell him that I spent many years in the North End of Boston in a famed pizzeria, so we had some common ground. John informed me that his son Jeff, whom we just missed by a matter of minutes, was the owner.

I capitulated to both Laura and John and ordered a classic Margherita pizza. Though one of the simplest of pizzas, the Margherita is the true test of a pizza establishment. More ingredients only serve to mask imperfections. And that was the challenge because there would be no room for error and it would confirm my anticipated disappointment.

Then the pizza arrived.

It was visually stunning. It was cooked to perfection. It was delicious. I was wrong – dead wrong. And I admitted it to Laura. (Another reason we’ve been married for 20 years.) This pizza was Naples, Italy-caliber. No kidding. I wanted to give John a hug. This was an unexpected experience. Right away, I wished I lived nearby so I could stop in regularly, perhaps pairing a great Margherita from Brick with a nice red wine from Travessia.

Pizza Margherita from Brick Pizzeria Napoletana, New Bedford, MA

In the meantime, Laura and I will continue our trips to the South Coast, somehow knowing there will be more visits to New Bedford, to Travessia, and to Brick Pizzeria Napoletana. And what about Naples, Italy? We’ll head back there as well. It’s a jewel like New Bedford. Fortunately, we can now experience some Neapolitan pizza without the hassle of a long flight.

Are there take-aways here? Absolutely. In fact, there are several.

• Great things are happening in older New England cities like New Bedford.
• Entrepreneurs like Marco Montez and Jeff Goggin infuse life into our historic cities.
• New Englanders like John Goggin make a huge difference for customers.
• Massachusetts’ South Coast is a rich and evolving destination with no canals to cross.
• The key to a happy marriage is listening to your spouse and admitting when you’re wrong.
• Life is too short to eat bad pizza and drink lousy wine.

-Rob Ciampa, Palaverer

Photos credits: City-data.com (Wikipedia Commons), Travessia Urban Winery, Rob & Laura Ciampa

We love a great beer or ale, but finding an equally-great venue that serves them up properly is often a challenge. That’s why the Armsby Abbey in Worcester, MA had been on our radar since we heard about its opening in 2008. They are serious beer connoisseurs. Unfortunately, our schedules over the past couple of years only permitted a few quick stops in “The City of the Seven Hills.” Last week, after a recent run through the Berkshires of Western Massachusetts and Connecticut, we had a window of time to explore Worcester in greater depth. Stopping at the Armsby Abbey was the obvious choice for some light fare and some extraordinary brews. Several years back our expectations of a specialist pub were set by one of the finest in the country: The Brick Store Pub in the Atlanta, GA suburb of Decatur. They knew their Belgian ales; they knew their other European brews; and they knew their American artisinals. We soon discovered that our new place in Worcester did too – and then added some New England flare.

The Armsby Abbey, though a relatively small establishment, boasts a rich selection of American microbrews and craft European offerings. Beer enthusiasts will find many things to savor, but novices need not worry because the staff is quite generous with their assistance. We ordered Malheur 10 and Malheur 12 Belgian ales. Joe Scully, or any of the other talented members of the Abbey team, freely offer direction and recommendations. We spent time chatting with Joe during our visit about the selection and pairing processes. He is passionate and knows his beverage and menu offerings in great detail, something we’ve come to expect from better destinations in New England. Many of the Abbey’s brew selections change regularly, with current draught choices posted on a large, prominent black board across from the bar. The Abbey catalogues bottled beers separately, many with impressive pedigree and others lesser known, but equally good.

Beers and ales are not the only things the Armsby Abbey knows well. They also specialize in boutique distilled spirits and limited-production American wines. On the dining side, their “Farmhouse Menu” consists of fresh, artisan products, many of which are locally sourced and organic. Rather than make a substitution of lesser quality, the Abbey will simply not serve an item should they run out of a small purveyor’s ingredient. We were impressed by the menu’s variety, categorization, and especially taken by their “slates,” which are carefully chosen selections of farmstead cheeses, meats and various condiments. The “New England Slate” is a cornucopia of New England products from Connecticut, Massachusetts, Rhode Island, and Vermont, that also includes local honey from Princeton, MA along with mustard from Worcester.

It was great to find a world-class pub like the Armsby Abbey in Worcester. Their bias toward locally-sourced, New England fare made it even better.

-The Two Palaverers

A Quest for Down East Pink Gold

Maine Shrimp

There is great anticipation among New England food lovers each winter for the upcoming bounty. We’re not talking about oysters, even though they remain one of our favorite local delicacies. We’re talking about shrimp, specifically Maine shrimp, whose arrival is met with ever-increasing fanfare. A recent proclamation on Chowhound captured it well, citing both their wonderful taste and their versatility in a broad range of recipes. What’s surprising is that many in New England aren’t familiar with them, although a recent article from Midcoast Maine Free Press suggests that may be changing. We decided to share our own discovery.

Spending a good deal of time over the years on the bayous of Louisiana and in the Low Country of South Carolina and Georgia changed our perception of shrimp forever.  We were introduced to White shrimp, Brown shrimp, Pink shrimp, Royal Reds, etc. Knowing spawning cycles and seasonal patterns was not an exercise in science but rather a necessity for gastronomic indulgence. Buying the right shrimp at the right time from the right vendor was the recipe for the right dish. It spoiled us. We found that not all shrimp was created equal.

Unfortunately, we never gave much thought to local, New England shrimp. Was it lack of marketing? Could it be ignorance on our part? We don’t know, but our epiphany came during a wonderful Chinese New Year meal prepared by some neighbors a couple of years ago. This was the first time we heard about Maine shrimp. They explained that the tiny, sweet, cold water delicacies from the Gulf of Maine were only available in late winter – and only for a very brief time. Our neighbors were fortunate to have a camp on an island off the Maine coast, giving them an upper hand in knowing about this regional specialty.

Intrigued, we immediately began looking for these small crustaceans, but without much success. Then one day late last season, out of the corner of our eyes, we saw them at a local market:  tiny, bright, and pink. So colorful in fact that we thought they were cooked, even though they were raw. We didn’t purchase any that day because we had existing dinner plans that evening. The next day we returned only to discover that they were gone, the season brought to an abrupt halt. Just like that. No more Maine shrimp would be arriving that year. Talk about poor timing!

This year we vowed to be more prepared, especially after reading an article about them in The New York Times informing us that the 2010 season would be extended through May. That was welcome news for our culinary mission to find and successfully prepare these little, elusive jewels. And found them we have from Maine to Massachusetts.

So what’s the big deal?

Maine Shrimp Shelled

These cold water shrimp are completely different from any shrimp we’ve prepared and eaten. They are extremely delicate, sweet and succulent with a soft, melt-in-the-mouth quality. While many Mainers eat them raw, we prefer them cooked, just quickly enough for them to begin releasing some of their sweet “liquor.” Part of their characteristic charm is the subtlety of their flavor. Also important to us is that they’re from New England. (Perhaps biasing us a bit.)  Not all are as enthusiastic as we, though, and Jacqueline Church offers a counter opinion. It wouldn’t be New England without a diversity of views, even if we’re talking about what’s in our own back yard.

Devra First from The Boston Globe referred to them as our own regional bugs. Having lived in the south,  we agree with her and regard them as New England’s very own version of the crawfish, crawdads or mud bugs (as those in New Orleans refer to  them). Although they visually resemble crawfish in appearance, Maine shrimp are slightly larger in size, lending themselves rather well to crawfish substitution in Southern dishes. Purists may argue this point, as that is where the similarities end, especially since Maine shrimp are from saltwater and crawfsh are from fresh water. Indeed, they are a different species with a different taste, but they certainly work in the kitchen.

Into the kitchen

We found many tasty tips for cooking Maine shrimp. Nancy Harmon Jenkins at Zester Daily says they make a wonderful ceviche while also being a great base for sauces.  The Original Maine Shrimp Cookbook is a good, local read that helps evangelize the Maine shrimp gospel. Even UNH Slow Food offered a class last month on what to do and how to handle Maine Shrimp.

Maine Shrimp and Grits

We enjoy the flexibility in preparation,with most approaches being rather simple and quick. We either sauté them Spanish style with garlic, oil and a dusting of cayenne or boil them with Old Bay seasoning. Leftovers can be shelled and made into a creative shrimp salad.  Shelled shrimp can also be used for such dishes as Low Country shrimp and grits, or for a creative,  lemon-infused scampi, which adds a sweetness to the latter much like adding Limoncello would. One other interesting preparation we found is serving them in a stir-fry over coconut scallion rice. With the Maine shrimp in season now, we have them at least once a week. Even our teenage shrimp hater comes back for seconds.  One final note on preparation: exercise caution because their small size makes them easy to overcook, so careful preparation is the key.

Availability

These little beauties are not expensive and range in price from $3.99 per pound unshelled to $8.99 per pound shelled. Two pounds easily feed a family of four. If you don’t see them, ask your local fishmonger to get them for you. Be sure to specify your preference for shelled or unshelled. With the season extended to May, there is no excuse not to indulge.

-The Two Palaverers

Photos credits: Bangor Daily News, Laura Ciampa, Rob Ciampa

In the early 1980’s, a wave of small independent cheese shops sprung up in the suburbs around New York City. It worked out well for those of us not in the city because traveling into Manhattan was often challenging and – as it is today – very time-consuming. Until then, we were limited to the choices at our local grocery stores, which consisted mostly of the processed, pre-packaged or generic uninspired varieties.

Formaggio Kitchen, Cambridge MA

I had the privilege of working at The Better Cheddar Cheese Shop, one of those new, avant-garde purveyors in northern New Jersey. Located at the historic Tice Farm in Woodcliff Lake, the small shop carried cheeses that were exotic and sophisticated to our unseasoned and unrefined palates of the time.

Over time, we became rather busy and our clientele grew. We had both regular local customers as well as those from the city who were escaping for a day in the “country.” (It always seemed more like suburbia and less like “country” to me.) Richard Nixon was a frequent visitor to the farm, having settled in the area after leaving Washington, D.C.

With great enthusiasm, I learned all that I could about cheese, albeit the hard way – by tasting and talking with wholesalers. We didn’t have the books, training or internet so prevalent today. We were excited by our “large” number of imported cheeses, now paltry compared with contemporary cheese counters. On the domestic side, I remember cheddars (Wisconsin, New York and Vermont), some fresh mozzarella, feta, and assorted spreads with cheddar and cream cheese bases.

Sadly, the farm and many like it were replaced by large corporate buildings and homogeneous mini malls. Though I saw many of the small local cheese shops quietly close their doors, I never lost interest in cheese.  It is always a thrilling sight and a culinary pleasure for me, whether home or abroad, to walk in to a well-stocked, knowledgeable and friendly cheese shop. It feels like home to me. When I moved to New England decades ago, I was immediately impressed by the regional, budding cheese culture. Surprisingly, it dates back to the English and Dutch settling of North America.

Today, I am especially pleased to see so many more New England cheese artisans practicing this wonderful art, which is a true labor of love. Increasing numbers of these cheese makers travel the globe learning from world renowned cheese masters and incorporating classic styles while leveraging their own unique terroir and indigenous fare. Many are winning national awards. Comparing this growing specialty cheese industry to the evolution of the US wine industry, I think we have much to look forward to as these artisans develop and refine their craft.

Hannahbells Cheeses, Shy Brothers Farm, Westport MA

New England artisan and farmstead cheeses come from all six states; some producers have been doing this for years, while many are new. I applaud their efforts. Though I haven’t yet tried all the New England cheeses, I am determined to do so. Perhaps it is the locavore in me, but I feel a strong connection, an inherent sense of pride and a good deal pleasure from enjoying cheese produced in my own region of the world.

I encourage cheese lovers to sample and enjoy these creations from New England. Serve them along side your old standbys and international favorites. Ask your cheesemonger to point you toward the local and regional varieties. The more we seek out New England cheeses, the more readily available they will be.

Be sure to take advantage of local cheese offerings when you see them on restaurant menus. Remember that many of the farmstead cheeses are produced from the farm’s own herd and yields are justifiably low. Some are sold exclusively to local restaurants, but many are available retail to the general public.

Though my cheese shop in New Jersey is a fond memory, I am fortunate to benefit from the cheese purveyors and cheese artisans of New England.

-Laura Ciampa, Palaverer Too

Some favorites thus far:

Alys’s Eclipse- Carlisle Farmstead Cheese- Carlisle, MA
Ascutney Mountain- Cobb Hill Cheese- Hartland, VT
Bridgid’s Abbey, Bloomsday & Drunken Hooligan- Cato Corner Farm- Colchester, CT
Burrata with Roasted Garlic and Onion – Fiore di Nonno- Somerville, MA
Cabot Clothbound Cheddar – Cabot Creamery & Jasper Hill Farms- Greensboro, VT
Chevre- The Farmstead At Mine Brook- Charlemont, MA
Chevre- Hillman Farm- Colrain, MA
Chevre Roulé with Nutmeg & Green Peppercorns- York Hill Farm- New Sharon, ME
Classic Chevre- Seal Cove Farm- LaMoine, ME
Cremont- Vermont Butter & Cheese Creamery- Websterville, VT
Crottina- Blue Ledge Farm- Salisbury, VT
Divine Providence and Atwells Gold- Naragansett Creamery, RI
Downeast Derby- State of Maine Cheese Company- Rockport, ME
Fiddlehead Tomme & Baby Swiss- Boggy Meadow Farm- Walpole, NH
Full Circle Goat Tomme- West River Creamery- Londonderry, VT
Fuzzy Wheel- Twig Farm- West Cornwall, VT
Great Hill Blue- Great Hill Dairy- Marion, MA
Green Mountain Gruyere- Blythedale Farm- Corinth, VT
Hannahbells- Shy Brothers Farm- Westport, MA
Landaff Cheese- Landaff Creamery- Landaff, NH
Maggie’s Round- Cricket Creek Farm- Williamstown, MA
Mozzarella- Mozzarella House- Everett, MA
Oma- von Trapp Farmstead- Waitsfield, VT
Organic Champlain Triple- Champlain Valley Creamery- Vergennes, VT
Salsa Jack- Pineland Farms- New Gloucester, ME
Tarentaise- Thistle Hill Farm- North Pomfret, VT
TAVA Chevre with Chive & Garlic- Sangha Farm- Ashfield, MA
Topnotch Tomme- Mt. Mansfield Creamery- Morrisville, VT