Wednesday is Prince Spaghetti Day...

As implied in my last post, my mind has been flashing memories of my youth at a pretty steady pace lately, with so many friends still contending with the aftermath of Sandy back east. It was not completely by happenstance that I chose Wednesday as the day to use the crock pot to make something of a "Sunday Gravy," obviously not on a Sunday, but because I so warmly remember seeing advertisements for Prince spaghetti all over the airwaves as a young boy in NJ. Granted, the commercial is supposed to be set on the north end of Boston, but somehow the imagery reminds me still, more generically, of nearly any tenement building in a large city in the northeast, and by association, the images remind me of NY, or at least the kind of hazy and faded memory of NY that I hearken back to in the nostalgic part of my brain.

More importantly, the ad reminds me of how, in my neighborhood, calling kids in for dinner was commonplace. At any given moment, you'd hear moms or siblings yelling, "Willy [yeah, I had to endure that nickname], time for supper." Or dinner. Or whatever a family called it. We'd hear it, and the game we were all playing would either realign to adjust for those called away, or would simply dissipate as the critical mass dwindled to the few who hadn't yet been called in. By urban standards, our yards were luxuriously large in the north Jersey suburbs, but really, the block where I spent most of my youth was compact enough that no one was really ever out of earshot of their own home. I suppose there is a part of me that mourns the idea that my daughters might not get to experience the call to dinner that was so familiar to me and to my friends growing up, in part because I doubt we'd ever have that luxury in our densely urban neighborhood, but more so because it seems that we have reached a point where the cell phone, the text message, or some other digital beacon has taken the place of a good set of lungs when rounding up the family these days. 

Dinner, tonight, was a joy to cook, and the prep this morning was incredibly simple. I had a bony, cheap cut of beef and a lovely, but small pork tenderloin roast defrosted. Both went into the crock pot along with canned tomatoes, tomato sauce, tomato paste, garlic, salt, pepper, and a nice dose of herbs (mostly basil, oregano, and parsley today). I copped out on cutting up an onion, and just added a bit of onion powder today, mostly out of a concern for time (I was too persnickety about getting the garlic cut up to allow me the time to hack at an onion). I let this cook all day, and since it was a rather large batch, decided I'd keep my meatballs completely separate from the process. And for those who care, I did add a tiny dash of sugar, but I was on the fence about it. I know some folks insist that it is essential, and others consider it an abomination. For me, since I'm not Italian by heritage, I have no loyalties, and just cook as the spirit moves me.

Once home from work, I made up the meatballs. I kept them simple - beef only, some breadcrumbs (wish I'd had more on hand, but I made it work), eggs, herbs, and a healthy dose of parmesan cheese added in. I baked the meatballs, and made sure I'd have plenty to freeze along with the sauce for a week or so down the road, and to make sure we'd have enough for leftovers tomorrow as well. I was craving the simplicity of spaghetti (and not some other pasta shape; I think the commercial really got to me, but it was not Prince brand), but ended up mixing in a small bit of linguine I had opened as well.

The Verdict

(I really need to take pics on the white or red plates;
 the yellow does NOT photograph well)

Writing about spaghetti and meatballs is nor really an earth-shattering idea. Yes, the meal was absolutely delicious. You just can't rush a really good sauce, and so the slow cooker does wonders for a deep, flavorful meat sauce like this. The strands of tender meat that melt in the mouth, bathed in an herb-y tomato base are so comforting, and the somewhat saltier and chewier meatballs on the side such a delightful contrast. I have not had nearly enough wine lately, and was thrilled to find a bottle of Brunello di Montalcino in our stash. It was a great treat with this particular dinner.

So, again tonight, I let my mind drift back to my youth, to the turf of my teens (and younger), to old friends, and to old ways. I recalled a lunch at my friend Phil Mastronardi's house, and how, between his mom and grandmother, I could barely walk away from the meal. I remembered several meals at the homes of friends in the neighborhood, including a fair number at Andrew Lange's house, where his mom made some traditional German meals that I have still yet to find the courage to try to recreate in my own kitchen.  I recalled playing kick the can with my buds on 4th Ave in Westwood. I found my mind walking to any number of my old schools on brisk days like today, the smell of leaves as I crunched them underfoot, and the sound of the train whistle bringing parents back from work in "The City." And again, tonight, I wished I could do more than just remember and think good thoughts. 

Still, a rich meal like this on a cold, late-autumn evening, with my family around me, makes me realize that, for them, I'm laying the foundation for the memories my daughters will have. They will have comfort in the familiarity of the mundane things we now share, and I hope each of them will get to look back on these memories fondly, in good times and bad. And I hope they will find something that can call them back as easily as the sound of "Anthony... Anthony..."

Fathers' Day - Pulled Pork

Chicago has no shortage of great places to eat. It also has several places that do justice to slow-cooked smoky meat. But sometimes I get a hankering for the taste of NC-style pulled pork BBQ, and Fathers' Day gave me an excuse to take matters into my own hands. I am less than an hour removed from eating the meal, and the lingering flavor and aroma of mesquite and pig are still full and rich.

This meal was partly possible because I was able to talk my wife into stopping at the Paulina Meat Market on the way home from the zoo this weekend. It was my first trip there, and in all honesty, I had my heart and mind fixed on a pork shoulder from the start. I did eyeball some other meats, and it will not be long before I'm writing about some rabbit here, I'm sure. And while there is an excellent butcher shop not far from our house, I really wanted to give this place a try. I was not disappointed. I was reminded of the great butcher shops I had the occasion to visit as a kid, and it is good to know that there are still places that know how to deliver excellent quality meat with outstanding service.

I prepped the meat on Saturday night with a basic rub, the core of which involved brown sugar and paprika. I like a slightly-smoky, slightly-hot paprika in general, and it served me well for this particular rub. The 7-pound cut fit nicely in a gallon Ziploc, and spent the night in the fridge. I was treated to some fantastic pancakes for Fathers' Day breakfast (a big thanks to my wife for including both chocolate AND peanut butter chips today!), and as soon as we finished, I started getting the grill ready. It was my first time trying to really slow-smoke anything over gas. I had a can of mesquite chips on hand, and tucked them over the low flame on one end of the grill for about 10 minutes as the meat sat out shedding some of the chill from the overnight stay in the fridge. Once the smoke started to billow, I brought the shoulder out and placed it with the fattier side up, the heat as low as possible, and I watched periodically to make sure the heat did not get much higher than 250 degrees (F). My grill is a real powerhouse, it seems, and does not like living in the low end of BTU production, but in the end, I was able to get a nice steady low heat, and was able to walk away.

One of my favorite side dishes to make is also one of the simplest. I like making a carrot slaw, and mine uses a white balsamic and mayo (roughly equal parts) as a base. Today I was lucky to still have some peach-flavored white balsamic on hand, and with some craisins and shredded carrots (along with a few other flavorings), it was quick work thanks to the food processor. The only downside was, in my rush to get the work done, I did not handle the shredder blade with my usual care, and I opened up a nasty little nick on the tip of my middle finger. Carelessness in the kitchen is never a good recipe.

With that done, I turned attention to my barbecue sauce. I went for a compromise today, and took the best of the eastern NC and western NC traditions to heart, adding my own touch of balsamic vinegar to the mix (the real stuff, not the white stuff). The sauce was mildly hot, with a good mixture of vinegar, enough ketchup to keep the tomato-based touch in play, and even hint of mustard to tip my hat to the folks in SC (who sometimes serve up mustard-infused sauces with their BBQ). I should also mention that I prefer honey to sweeten most of the BBQ sauces I make, and this was no exception.

I figured with all this effort, it would be a shame to miss out on hush puppies, so I turned to Paula Deen's recipe as a starting point. She's a great go-to resource for many southern staples, and this particular recipe did not disappoint (although I'm already thinking about my own take for the next time; these were damn good, but I don't think they'd suffer from some modification). As an afterthought, I served up some buttery corn to round things out.

The verdict

An added treat tonight was sharing the meal with our friends Ali and Crystal. They seemed to appreciate the meal, and they brought good beer and hard cider to the table, which is never a bad thing! It had been entirely too long since we last shared a meal with them, and I'm glad that happenstance (running into my wife coming back from the playground with our daughter) led them to join us tonight.

The pork - fabulous. Juicy, smoky, just enough of the "crispy" stuff alongside tender strands of succulent pig. It is as close to real NC pulled pork as I have had since the last time I was in NC, and I'm not afraid to make that claim. There is simply no substitute for real wood smoke and slow cooking, and taking the time today was well worth the effort. The sauce was outstanding, too. Sauce can be such a debatable thing, and I don't know why folks need to get so uppity about one kind being better than another. I find that one of the best things about American food is the regional differences we get to celebrate, and I have not had too many sauces that I did not like. If made with thought, love, and enthusiasm, each has a place at the table, and mine was no exception. I don't know if I would replicate this one identically, and that's just fine with me. I'm sure that my next trip to NC will bring me at least one more take on the classic, and I will have a few new ideas to try out on my next pulled pork dinner.

The hush puppies were perfectly golden brown on the outside, and just right on the inside. I cannot abide over- or under-done hush puppies, and while they are not the food of my heritage, I've certainly had enough to know good from bad. Mine were good. Really good. I'm considering my options for the next time around, but I'm also open to suggestions from any hush puppy aficionados out there who care to chime in. The corn was fine, if forgettable, and that was about what I expected. No effort, no reward, and sometimes, no cares either. Just a little something to give you the excuse to eat a little butter.

The slaw was as good as always. I sometimes opt for golden raisins or plain old Sunmaids, but the craisins give a nice tartness that offsets the natural sweetness of the carrots. The slaw was the ideal complement for the pork, and was great both on and off the bun (I tried it both ways to make sure).

The real verdict today had nothing to do with the meal. The fact that I got to celebrate being a dad would have made any meal special. The fact that I got to spend the day with my amazing daughter (and wife), and with some dear friends was the most important thing. Having a meal that brought me comfort, provided me a modest challenge, and took at least intermittent focus to avoid screwing up the end product was an added treat. But it turned out so well that I'm sure I'll remember it for a while to come.

I hope other dads out there had comfort, love, and good food today, too.