Showing posts with label Italian. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Italian. Show all posts

Wednesday, May 20, 2015

Roses Have Thorns Lasagna 2015 TBR Challenge



It's TBR Challenge time again! This month's theme was "Kickin' it Old School", which is most definitely not a problem for me as the vast majority of my TBR pile is acquired via used bookstores and thrift stores and it would be a rare book that isn't more than ten years old. So I literally picked a random category off the stack and got to it.

What I ended up with was Roses Have Thorns by Karen Leabo, a Silhouette Romance from 1989. I couldn't even find it on Amazon. I bought it in a thrift shop in the Shenandoah Valley. I've mentioned during TBR Challenge posts before that I really like old category romances. They're little 50,000 word snapshot of the progress of women's rights, romance novel history and changing social mores. I find them fascinating. But I've veered wildly between relatively recent Harlequin Blaze books and 1970s Harlequin Presents in the past. This may even have been my first Silhouette and I seem to have found another waypoint in the development of the modern romance novel with the 1989 publication date.

When I read 1970s category romances, I know what to expect. It will be third-person limited perspective in the mind of the heroine. The hero will usually be mysterious, rich and opaque. There will be an interfering old relative who will eventually die and leave the heroine all their (sometimes questionable, sometimes considerable) wealth. There will be limited kissing, but no other sexual contact. This is all good. This is what I expect. But clearly sometime between 1979 and now, the contemporary category romance acquired, well, LOVIN'.

In Roses Have Thorns, Rosalie DiMarco is a pastry chef in a fancy French restaurant when food critic Max Callaghan comes to do a review. When she appears at his table to make crepes suzette, she remembers, but he does not, that she once dropped a plate of lasagna in his lap while working as a server in her uncle's restaurant. She was forced to quit her job and her close-knit Italian family still bears a grudge against the man who "almost ruined" her uncle's business. Her and her family's resentment make up pretty much the entire conflict of the book. And it's a perfectly well-constructed, plausible plot. You might not think so if you're not Italian, but trust me, there isn't a thing that happens in this book that I couldn't see happening on the Italian side of my own family. All in all, though, it's not terribly angsty or remarkable. It's just a plot.

The interesting elements of Roses Have Thorns come from its moment in romance history. First, the book is hopelessly dated through no fault of its own. With references to answering machines, yellow pages, rented beepers and something called a VDT that Max uses in his job (a computer thing? a printer thing? I really don't know.), the out-dated technology actually makes this book seem more dated than some of the 1970s categories I've read, just because those are largely technology-avoidant. Second, the perspective is updated here. We get inside the heads of both hero and heroine, sometimes within a couple paragraphs of each other (hello, head-hopping), but it does end up reading in a more modern way than earlier books, which are always confined to just heroine-perspective.

But the biggest difference, and what surprised me most, was that there wasn't any sex in the book at all. There was some kissing, for sure. And more than in earlier category romances. But one touch of the hero's hand to the heroine's nipple sends them both scurrying for the hills. Even post-engagement, where I might have expected a brief, but sweet fade-to-black scene? Nothing. There are no allusions to sex being had at all except in the hero's attitude, which is that he must be emotionally involved with a woman before engaging in that level of physical intimacy. I don't get the impression that either of them are necessarily virgins, but neither does the book explicitly state one way or the other. The thing is, the whole question of sex feels like a Sword of Damocles hanging over the entire novel for this modern reader. I found myself thinking, "Now? Wait, no. Oh, now then? No. After the engagement party? No. Hm."

This is entirely down to my own expectations and no fault of the author's, I'm sure. I'm almost certainly bumping up against some sharp transition in the way romances were conceived and written, possibly just within Silhouette's line, but also possibly an actual transition time? I don't know. I'm glad I read this for TBR Challenge though, where some real category romance experts may be able to help me out with an answer.

Roses Have Thorns was a perfectly accept sweet romance with a well-plotted story and two characters with interestingly-complex family relationships. I don't know that I'd necessarily say run right out and get it, but if you're interested in a survey marker in the map of modern romance, it's a fine book with nothing problematic or objectionable in it.

But please put my out of my misery! Just what was going on with the sex at Silhouette in 1989?


Practically from the first page of Roses Have Thorns, I knew I'd be making lasagna for this review. I mean, the flashback to Rose accidentally dumping an entire plate of lasagna in Max's lap the first time they met? That's just priceless.


Plus, a couple months ago, I shared my family recipe for homemade tomato sauce and this is agreat way to use a bunch of it. You don't have to use homemade here of course though. A large jar of store-bought will work just fine and that's honestly what I do normally.


And speaking of my family, this recipe is pretty funny because even though I'm a quarter Italian, this isn't a family recipe. Somehow I acquired this recipe from my college roommate, who is Canadian and a second-generation immigrant from Southern China. Her mother is the best cook ever, but she only cooks Chinese food. So I texted my roommate to find out where she got this recipe and it turns out that it came from her Baltimore Jew college ex-boyfriend who grew up in Baltimore's Little Italy. How the world turns.


I've put my own spin on it over the years though. The homemade sauce isn't anything we ever did in school, nor is the fresh mozzarella. And at the time, neither one of us cared for ricotta cheese so we usually used cottage cheese. That seems strange now as we both developed a taste for really good cheese of all types while living in DC during college via a little French bistro we liked to visit. And we frequently made a veggie version that substituted drained frozen spinach and sliced zucchini for the ground beef. I still do that sometimes at the height of summer. And if you want to do the cottage cheese substitution for more protein and less fat, you can use the same amount, just drain it well first.


And try really, really hard not to dump it in anyone's lap.


Lasagna
Makes: 12 servings
Difficulty: Easy
Time: 1 hour

12 lasagna noodles
cooking spray
generous pinch salt
1 pound ground beef
32 ounces tomato sauce (either homemade or store-bought from a jar)
1 pound fresh mozzarella cheese, sliced
15 ounces ricotta cheese
2 tablespoons grated parmesan cheese
additional tomato sauce and Parmesan cheese (optional)

1. Bring a large pot of water and the salt to a boil over medium-high heat. Add the lasagna noodles and cook according to package directions. If there is a range of times (i.e. 9-11 minutes), use the shorter time. When cooked, drain noodles in a colander and leave until cool enough to handle.

2. Preheat the oven to 375 degrees and spray a 9x13 inch pan with cooking spray.

3. Over medium-heat heat, brown the ground beef (until no pink remains), about 6 minutes, draining off any fat that accumulates. Turn off heat. Add the tomato sauce and stir to combine.

4. In the prepared pan, put down a super thin layer of tomato sauce, just a 1/4 cup or so. Add the first layer of 4 noodles, overlapping the edges slightly. Cover with half the ricotta, then a third of the sauce, then a third of the mozzarella. Add the next layer of noodles, remaining ricotta, another third of the sauce and third of the mozzarella. Add the final layer of noodles, the remaining sauce, the remaining mozzarella and the grated Parmesan.

5. Bake in a preheated oven for 20 minutes or until cheese is all melted and the sides are bubbling. Allow to rest of 10 minutes before slicing and serving, topping with additional tomato sauce and Parmesan cheese, if desired.

Monday, March 16, 2015

In Bed With Her Italian Boss Family Tomato Sauce


In Bed with Her Italian Boss by Kate Hardy, a Harlequin Presents that seems to have started life as a Mills & Boon called Breakfast at Giovanni's, wasn't what I would have expected given that title. That title conjures visions of a dubiously-appropriate workplace romance with a hot-blooded man. This book is not that. Not at all. Rather, it's a story of two people trying to find their way when their careers take unexpected turns, with a side order of fond family interactions.

Francesca has been a customer at Giovanni's coffeehouse for a while before she loses her job due to downsizing after a merger. And while Giovanni, the owner of the coffeehouse, has noticed her, she hasn't ever really noticed him. So when he brings her a consoling treat and they get to talking, she doesn't realize right away that he's the owner. But they talk about her previous job and her skills and he offers her an office management position at his small, but growing chain. And if it just so happens that they've got a little bit of chemistry, well, that's okay because they're not going to act on it.

Of course, they do act on it. But not until after Francesca has been persuaded to be Giovanni's fake girlfriend in addition to being his office manager, a set up that should have sent me running for the hills, but worked because pretty much everything else in this book is so spectacularly plausible and normal. The characters, the setting, the business details, and the coworker and family relationships all formed a steady foundation for this otherwise precarious plot. Both characters have emotional limitations that keep them apart even while circumstance keeps pushing them together. And at every step, their internal conflicts seemed genuine.

Giovanni is a perfect example of where romance's alpha and beta hero distinctions break down. Here's a hero who is good at his job, loves his family, plays classical guitar and feels all the feels right from the beginning of the novel. He rides in on his white horse (er, cargo van), gives the heroine a shot at a new career and helps out when her apartment gets flooded. And get this: he does it without being dictatorial or condescending. He just acts like a real friend would. Um, a tall, olive-skinned, dreamboat of a real friend, but who doesn't have those? (Okay, none of us have those, but that's part of why romance is fun.)

And Francesca is equally grounded and sensible. She is sad when she's is downsized. She gets angry and frustrated with Giovanni when he's being obtuse. She takes time to make decisions, handles her work challenges like a professional and doesn't go to pieces except right at the end when a lack of communication puts the breaks on the romance. However, because the entire story is about two people learning to work together, like each other, trust each other and eventually love each other, that breakdown in understanding didn't feel forced like it sometimes can in romance. There are no distractions in the form of lecherous villains or evil competitors. There's no murder plot, dying family member or other dramatic, trauma-inducing situation to keep the plot moving.

In Bed With Her Italian Boss is just a couple of people fumbling their way through life and landing safely in each other's laps. And how nice is that?


Today's recipe makes me happy. So happy that I've been waiting about 10 months for the right book to share it.

Only about a quarter of my family has any real family recipes. My grandmother on my mother's side wasn't much of a cook. Everyone got fed, but she was very much an upper middle-class 1960s housewife with said's attendant culinary expectations. Think more Jello salad than Julia Child. Don't get me wrong, it has its charms, but in general, that's not how I cook.



My father's side is a different story. They're Sicilian, nearly straight off the boat. So this is very much not a Northern Italian or Italian-American recipe. There is no ground beef or sausage or any meat at all. Probably because my great-grandmother was one of those people who, when you showed up, would ask if you were hungry. And no matter the answer, you'd better have been prepared to eat at least a three-course meal consisting of salad, pasta and main course. Yes, there was a pasta course and a main course. Both.

Are you getting a sense of why I now attempt to feed strangers via the internet?



There are some aspects of this recipe that are downright weird. Why add dried Italian seasoning and dried oregano when there is already fresh basil and fresh oregano and basil pesto? Why whole tomatoes and tomato sauce? What's up with the sugar? Why does the water have to be boiling? Here's my brilliant, insightful, educated answer: I've got no freaking idea.


I could say something about layers of flavors or suchlike, but I suspect that what's really going on here is necessity as the mother of invention and the crafting, over many, many years, of a fool-proof recipe. My family wasn't exactly poor. Certainly no more or less so than anyone else in their neighborhood. But they were working class and probably the recipe turned out like this because sometimes there were fresh herbs and sometimes dried ones. Sometimes there was pesto and sometimes there wasn't. The sugar probably has something to do with counteracting the tomato's acidity, but then, why use the baking soda too? And why at three different stages of the cooking process? Really. No idea. But the overall result is that if you don't have fresh herbs handy or if you forget to add the first pinch of baking soda, don't fret! It will all work out.


As grandma would say, "Mangia!"


Family Tomato Sauce
Difficulty: Easy
Makes: A metric ton (freezes well)
Time: 4 hours, 30 minutes (hands-on time: 30 minutes)

3 tablespoons olive oil
1 large onion, diced
1 shallot, minced
4-6 cloves of garlic, minced
6 springs of parsley, de-stemmed and chopped
3 springs basil, de-stemmed and chopped
3 springs oregano, de-stemmed and chopped
1 teaspoon dried Italian seasoning
1/2 teaspoon dried oregano
2 tablespoons prepared basil pesto
1 heaping teaspoon granulated sugar
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon pepper
1 28-ounce can whole peeled tomatoes, undrained
2 15-ounce cans tomato sauce
2 cups boiling water
2 pinches baking soda, divided
Parmesan and additional parsley for garnish (optional)

1. In a large pan, heat olive oil over medium heat until shimmering and fragrant. Add onion and cook for 6-8 minutes or until soft. Add shallot, garlic, pesto, and fresh and dried herbs and cook for an additional 1 minute.

2. Turn down heat to medium-low. Add whole tomatoes, tomato sauce, boiling water, sugar, salt, pepper and first pinch of baking soda. Cover and simmer for 2 hours, stirring occasionally (check to make sure the bottom doesn't burn, turning down heat if necessary).

3. Add second pinch of baking soda. It will fizz a bit, counteracting the acid in the tomatoes.

4. After 3 hours, uncover and continue to simmer one additional hour to allow the sauce to thicken up, continuing to stir occasionally.

5. Serve with your favorite pasta and garnish with Parmesan and additional parsley if desired
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