Of course I own The Sopranos Family Cookbook.
What have I done with it? A whole lot of nothing, that’s what. Everything I know about Italian cooking was imparted onto me by father. While he was still alive I took to cooking on occasion to see if my capabilities in the kitchen were up to his standards. I obsessed over this dish he made, pastia, which is a savory sort of macaroni and egg pie that I’ll have to devote an entire post to in the future. He’d tell me I was “close”. That I’d no doubt perfect it the next time. He taught me how to make sauce (or gravy when it has meat in it). I don’t know if I’ll ever match his excellence when it comes to that. But if there’s one thing he taught me that I uphold to this day it’s: not to fuck with Tuttorosso canned tomatoes because Tuttorosso sucks. Only cans of Cento in my kitchen these days.
He was full of culinary wisdom. Before doing anything else he’d heat up a pan of olive oil over a low flame and rose in a few cloves of garlic. The house would fill up with a simple yet mesmerizing odor. He taught me how to properly brown the pork neck bones before making “Sunday Gravy”.
These are things I won’t forget. They are but a small sample of what I hope to pass on to my (currently nonexistent) children one day.
But now it’s time to strike out on my own. And I’ll do it using this cookbook he left behind. With nearly 200 pages worth of recipes, ostensibly compiled by Artie Bucco, there’s a lot of culinary ground to cover. I don’t know if my father ever made any of these recipes but I stand here today beholden to my readers with the promise that I will cook every one of these recipes and write about it.
Think of it as Julie & Julia: New Jersey style, if you want. I like to think this could have been a fun project to share with my father had he lived long enough to enjoy more of his retirement.
We coulda taught the world how to eat.
Now it’s up to me.
And Artie Bucco.
And this here book.
Semi-Parmed Life 