Come in and stock your pantry!

There are few things that bring me more comfort than a big pot of gravy, simmering on the stove, filling the room with the sweet scent of caramelized tomato (and yes, I said gravy). For many, gravy invokes something brown poured over turkey, but if you grew up in an Italian home in the northeast, gravy is what other people refer to as tomato sauce.   For me, the smell of gravy cooking has the same visceral experience that Proust had when biting into a perfect madeleine; it transports me with its aromatic delight back in time to my mother’s kitchen. 

Imagine a quiet Sunday, you walk to a warm, sun-filled kitchen, and a large pot is simmering on the stove.  You are tempted by gravy stained spoon soaked with hints of the various meats that await, slow cooking in a pool of tomato, and the weighted scent of roasted meats and reduced tomato intoxicates you.  You look around; you are alone, so you lift the lid, revealing the treasure.  It bubbles and sends a small splatter onto the stove top.  As you look for a towel to remove the sign of your trespass, you spy a loaf of lofty, thin crusted Italian bread and note that the heal is already torn off.  One cannot be expected to resist such temptation, but you must act quickly.  You swiftly tear off a hearty handful of bread—no sense risking the consequence for just one bite, and you scoop.  The bread soaks up the gravy, and you feel the steam rise to your eyes as you taste the rich, thick, meaty gravy.  You close your eyes and smile, wiping the thin drizzle of oil from your chin. 

Of course, if my mom had caught me that Sunday would quickly cease to be so quiet. Truth be told, I believe she secretly loved that we all swooned when she cooked that pot of love. That was how she found purpose, feeding us. This past weekend, a friend kindly invited me for some “macaroni and meatballs,” and I had no idea what I was in store.  It was as if she had made it herself, and it was sheer delight. The pot was brimming with fist size meatballs, sausages, the most tender bites of steak and pork, all stewing together to form the most remarkable flavor...and it is all so simple. The meal was a reminder of shared family moments. 

This time of year calls for a big pot of gravy, and my friend’s generosity reminds that we must share the love in that big simmering pot, so here is my mom’s recipe for anyone who wants to give it a shot. Keep in mind, she never cooked a little pot of gravy, so cut it down if you wish, but you will regret it. And, yes, we have great cans of tomato at the store, crusty bread, and macaroni in all shapes and sizes. 

Ingredients: 

6  28 oz cans of San Marzano Tomato  

1  8 oz tomato paste 

4 cloves garlic 

A small onion 

A bunch of flat leaf parsley 

Olive oil 

Instructions: 

Over low-medium heat, coat the bottom of a large heavy bottom pan with good olive oil (I throw in butter, but my mother would have killed me! I leave it up to you.), and add your finely diced onion and garlic.  You want them to sweat not brown, takes about 12-15 minutes. 

Add your tomato paste, and crank up the heat to medium high, and brown it.  You want it to stick to the pan, so don’t worry when it looks brownish.  You will smell, it is a fantastic moment when this caramelizes.   

Add the tomato, rinse your cans a little and throw the water in, too. 

Stir to combine, cook over medium heat for 30 minutes.  You can use a spoon to break down the tomato. 

Preheat your oven to 300. 

Add the meat—all of which should be cooked (email me if you need these instructions).  She would have added brascioles, meatballs, sausage, and roasted pork and beef (or some combination depending on the day). Use a cheap and fatty cut of meat, it will slow cook in the tomato and fall apart.  Don’t shy on adding the fat from the pan. Arguably, my mom actually made tomato confit!  

Place covered pot into the preheated oven and let it cook for a few hours, checking and stirring occasionally.  It may need a little liquid, pasta water serves great for this purpose, but you can also add a little more tomato. 

Remove from oven and allow it to rest before serving.  When you are ready to serve, add a bunch of fresh flat leaf parsley finely chopped.  

Serve with a macaroni of your choice.  For my mom, it would be rigatoni, unless she assembled all into lasagna. 

Or, just tear off some bread, rip it open and fill it with slices of meat and load it up with gravy, sprinkle with parmesan, and pour me a glass of Chianti.  I will be right over! 

One of the remarkable and truly wonderful things about this industry is the generosity of the people that I encounter.  I suppose we are all drawn to one another by an obsession with food and wine—commodities that are far more satisfying when shared with others, so perhaps we are inclined to a position of giving.  We also like to share in the experience, so it was not a surprise when a friend in the biz, as we say, asked why we don’t make some wine together. He and I both have participated in harvests at home and abroad, we both have small wine businesses here in Rhody, we have dabbled in making wine ourselves with some success, and we have a lot of laughs hanging out together.  These really are the only prequistites for making wine in collaboration, so I agreed: “Let’s do it!”

My friend, I should mention, is Mike de Cruz, who owns a very cool cooperatively owned wine bar in Providence called  “Fortnight,” and if you have not been, run don’t walk.  The wine list is so interesting, filled with delicious, well made, small production wines, that make it makes it really difficult to pick what you will drink.  Mike is, in equal measure, the easiest and the most obstinate person I have ever met...and if you are thinking that you have thought the same about me, keep it to yourself, but let’s just say, there is a reason we get along so well.

Luckily, we agree on most things;) And without hesitation, we decided that we should do it here in New England, and we set our sights on some ungrafted Vidal Blanc here on Aquidneck Island.  Yes, there is really good local wine (at the risk of overdoing, I won’t put this in caps, but I have to restrain the impulse).  If you have not had some, come in and I will tell you all about the work that Richard Carmichael does at Greenvale Vineyards or Jim at Verde, and then we can talk about the wineries in the broader New England region and even the Northeast who are producing some compelling wines that you should be enjoying with your friends.  I have learned in the work that I have done in making wine the last few years that good wine can be made anywhere as long as you have good grapes; it all starts in the vineyard, and there are grapes ideally suited for this climate.  Yes, you know it always comes back to responsible agriculture appropriate for the climate; call it provenance or terroir, as you will, so Aquideck Island is as good a place as any to make our wine!

Our work began with harvesting grapes at Greenvale Vineyards.  First, I must thank the friends who came out to help us pick.  What a lovely surprise that so many people support our cause to make delicious wine from responsibly cultivated fruit.  We got there at day break, the dew was still sitting on the grass and there was a chill in the autumn air.  We shared coffee while going over a few tips about picking. It is simple, but when you have not done it before, you need to see how it is done.  The beauty of this pick is that the grape bundels were so healthy, with very little to worry about in terms of rot or damage, so the pick was easy.  The Vidal has a muted yellow skin, some light green still remained, and a hint of light brown freckles, which I will always argue is a good thing;) 

As the sun rose to warm our busy hands, we were well on our way to filling the bins with a ton of great fruit.  I felt elated, running bins down the rows of vines, checking in with friends to see how they were doing, talking about wine, and meeting new friends.  Along with Mike, Ethan Joseph from Shelburne Winery in Vermont is joing in the project, and I am thrilled to have his expertise.  Ethan makes Iapetus, a line of place driven wines that are another example of the finess and quality that can be achevied in New England wine making.  Despite the early morning, I was aflutter with ideas about our wine, and so were Mike and Ethan...I can’t tell you all the secrets just yet, but there may be something sparkling in my future.  More on the harvest when I return from Tuscany and get my feet into the grapes up in Vermont.  For now they will cold soak for a while, getting some skin exposure....