Tuesday, November 28, 2017

The Feast of The 7 Fish Italian Christmas

   
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Stuffed Calamari



  The FEAST of The SEVEN FISHES is one of the most beloved Christmas Eve traditions in most Italian-American households-- as long as family members eating the ocean’s bounty are seafood lovers. While some people heard tales about Nonna killing eels on the side of the bathtub, two things are true for most: The Feast and the Seven Fishes is all about family and food. The feast, also known as "la Festa dei Sette Pesci"  in the old country, is a tradition that is popular in southern Italy. It reportedly started in Naples or Sicily and ever traveled north. The number of fish eaten represents different things for each family. Those who eat seven fishes are representing the seven deadly sins, the creation story, the seven sacraments or the seven virtues of Christian theology: hope, fortitude, charity, faith, temperance, prudence, and justice. While a definite meaning for the number seven is not known, some families eat as many as 13 types of fish. As few as three can be consumed, too. Participants of the seafood bonanza indulge in “frutta di mare,” as it’s called in Italian, because Catholic Italians abstain from meat and dairy until Midnight Mass. Similarly, butter cannot be used for preparing the dish. Instead, oil olive is typically used. Possible menu ideas include baccala (salted cod), scungilli (conch), pupa (octopus), calamari (squid), scallops, shrimp, blue crab, eel, clams, smelt, mussels and Anchovy flavored Pasta . Some families make Cioppino, a seafood stew that can have has many as seven fishes in one bowl. There’s no rule about how the fish can be eaten. While some people might consume the fishes in one fish, others eat them separately, whether it be baked, steamed or fried.  



LEARN HOW to MAKE

The FEAST of The SVEN FISHES


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in
THE FEAST of THE 7 FISH




 
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ITALIAN BAKED CLAMS

For The ITALIAN CHRISTMAS

FEAST of THE 7 FISH
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Sunday, October 29, 2017

The McRIB is da BOMB

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The McRIB is da BOMB !!!!


One of The FUNNIEST McRIB VIDEOS EVER !!!WATCH IT !!!


To LEARN How to MAKE The McRIB at HOME .. Click Here






The BADASS COOKBOOK

SECRET RECIPES

Learn How to Make

A McRIB at HOME

SHACK SHCAK BUGER

KFC FRIED CJICKEN

PRIZE WINNING CHILI

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Tuesday, October 10, 2017

Mafia Dining History in New York

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Michael Corleone , Captain McCluskey and Sollozzo
 
At LOUIE'S in The BRONX
 
 
"Get the Veal it's the Best in the City"
 
The market is uneasy. Competition is fierce. The trust busters in blue are talking tough. Vito Genovese, chairman of the board of the oldest, richest, fattest, conglomerate of them all, is dead.         In tense times like these, the flow of corporate debate is primed by tranquilizing platters of Sicilian soul food: crusty rings of calamari, steaming bowls of zuppa di pesce, the purple splendor of a well-sauced eggplant.         The Carlo Giambino division has been eating up a storm at Villa Vivolo in Gravesend, Brooklyn...$40 a night, out of petty cash. Thomas (Tommy Ryan) Eboli, Vito’s acting underboss, and elder statesman Michele (Mike) Miranda...and sometimes titular executive pro tem Gerardo (Jerry) Catena...have been brooding about the rites of executive succession over espresso in the grubby Napoli e Notte Cafe at 165 Thompson Street. Why the Napoli e Notte? There’s nothing to eat but potato chips and pretzels. Nothing to look at but a very spiffy juke box, an unsmiling old lady in basic black, Pepe the poodle in bows of baby blue and a sign: “This is not a club. Don’t hang around.” Maybe the Genovese trustees are dieting. Tommy does have a bum heart. Mike has diabetes. And Jerry in the flesh is no Joe Namath.         Let these gourmandizing board meetings continue. What is good for the Mafia is good for gourmet country. The Mafia is widely advanced as “the Michelin Guide for Italian restaurants, and a three-star police raid is...a tribute to the excellence of the kitchen.         But is it?         A gourmet crew of Mafia Boswells and plumpish law enforcement officers have shared their personal dining guides to Mafia-starred restaurants, raided and unraided. And I have waded through a roiling flood of tomato sauce to test the mystique of the Mafioso palate.         Characteristically, the menu is narrowly Southern—souvenir of Naples, Calabria and Sicily; the bread is crusty and irresistible; the flowers are faded plastic; murals celebrate the Bay of Naples. You dine with judges, pols, fuzz in mufti, expatriate Italians from the suburbs, beehive-headed dolls in purple leather minis and stiletto heels...and maybe, seven solemn Dons along the same side of a banquet table, their backs against the wall.
***
        Luna’s at 112 Mulberry Street has a fine old tradition of three-star raids. Crazy Joe Gallo got pinched here twice. And rackets magnate Anthony Strollo, likewise known as Tony Bender, was an after-midnight regular until he mysteriously disappeared. More recently Luna was raided merely for serving wine without a license. But if you’re thirsty, say the magic word Chianti and more likely than not, a bottle will appear.
        You think the staff may fly into panic at the entrance of a brass-buttoned patrolman. But no. One strolled in at dinner recently and was practically embraced by a waiter. “He’s my friend,” the waiter announced. “He won’t do nothing to me.” Friendly officer was escorted to the kitchen for supper. It’s a New York custom. Think of the policeman on the 57th Street beat who takes his lunch in the kitchen of Le Pavillon.
        Luna fans fill the garish narrow trattoria freshly painted Easter-egg blue beneath its fabled mural—Vesuvius, a light bulb tucked into its mouth, a neon moon above. The affection is two-way. “Here you are, you nut,” says the waitress serving a plate of steaming mussels.
        The menu is more adventurous than most: several homemade pastas, tripe, brains, veal knuckle (Thursday), steak in Neapolitan or Sicilian style. Portions are large, prices low, 29 entrées at $2 or less...and the service can be whimsically cavalier. At first you are amused, then humble, then fretful...then choleric. There is a full house and two waiters: across the room, a dashing professional; your waiter, a bustling bumbler. He forgets the table cloth...que sera...forgets the bread, serves one guest a watery minestrone several minutes after the other guests have finished their antipasto, and exactly 90 seconds before arriving with her entrée. No problem really. The soup is inedible anyway. The hot antipasto ($1.75) is dull and under-seasoned, clams dry, langoustine tough but the eggplant is lovely.
        The waiter is so cheerful. “Here you are, please,” he sings, delivering mussels in a red wine sauce ($1.75), though we asked for white. The red is far too robust, overpowering the delicate mussels. Calamari Arrigante* ($2.25) is squid layered with buttery, magnificently seasoned crumbs. The chicken cacciatore ($2.25) unappetizingly dismembered into tiny pieces with cracked shins and marrow exposed is sharp with the unpleasant taste of burnt garlic and rich with mushrooms.
        But the faces...I felt a chill as a burly chap in black bowler walked in. That battered face. A button (trigger) man for sure. Then, disappointment. He sat down...back wantonly to the door and proceeded to discuss Merce Cunningham with a lady companion.
*The spelling of dishes on Italian restaurants’ menus is as variable as their tomato sauces.
 
 
 
 
***
        Loving ghosts haunt Lombardi’s at 53rd Spring Street—shades of a little Appalachin raid in 1965 –but there was not a customer at table at 12:45 one Wednesday afternoon. Calico privacy drapes the storefront window and the dining room is freshly brocaded. There is a shrine for religious devotion, an orchid tree and a massive stern-faced woman, guardian of the cash box; I suspect she came from Naples in that very chair, straight from shouting “putana” at Sophia Loren in some Carlo Ponti production. Out of the kitchen strolls a distraught creature in a shower cap, clutching a bunch of parsley. The hot antipasto is fair ($1.75): stuffed zucchini, stuffed mushroom, stuffed red pepper, stuffed mussels...the same bland stuffing. Fettucine Alfredo, homemade ($2.75) but stingily sauced. Stuffed breast of veal ($2.75), obviously out of the fridge, was still ice cold inside, served with rubbery roast potato and oversteamed escarole. It tasted better after re-heating, hearty, filling and profusely mushroomed. The white wine was warm...the waiter adlibbed an ice cube. Asked for a homemade dessert, he appeared with the remnants of a giant ricotta cassata, creamed cheese and cake melded and moist, too cold but very good. I must have a Sicilian sweet tooth.
***
        There is a refreshing simplicity about Vincent’s Clam Bar, corner of Mott and Hester Streets, at counter, in booth: The choice is littleneck clams on the half shell ($1.50 a dozen), shrimps, scungili (conch), calamari (squid), mussels (small $1.25, large $2.40) or combinations thereof ($2.40) and hunks of Italian bread doused in a fiery red sauce: very hot or much-too-hot. Stubborn snob that I am -- nothing’s too hot for me -- I ignored the warning. After four forkfuls of squid and conch, my mouth was anesthetized. The prudent Kultur maven fared far better with his hot shrimp and mussels. Vincent’s traffic never stills. Friday it’s a must. Turnover is swift. Out informant from narcotics control almost wept as he recalled a surveillance in Vincent’s. “I wasn’t going to eat but I couldn’t resist. Just as they served the scungili, the guy I’m tailing leaves.” Talk about conflict.
 
 
***
 
        Paolucci’s, one flight up at 149 Mulberry Street, an old Van Rensselaer pad, has been called Le Pavillon of Little Italy. Perhaps it’s the altitude. The place does have dignity. Also, acres of red brocade. It is family-run. Everything is cooked to order...à la carte...and drinks with ice cubes cost 10 cents extra. Entrees are mostly $2.25 to $2.75. The homemade hot antipasto (for two, $2.50) lost much of its individuality in a blanket of tomato sauce. The cold antipasto ($1.25) was more successful...everything fresh and of superior quality. Homemade roasted red peppers (.90) were magnificent but a stuffed artichoke ($1.25), perfectly cooked and choke removed, was a bit blandly seasoned. The bread was hot, fresh and wondrously crusty. Percitelli a filet di pomidoro ($2) turned out to be fat spaghetti in a light savory tomato sauce flavored with basil and minced prosciutto. Veal Rolatini ($2.60) was brown and crisp outside, tender and moist within, its stuffing a savory blend of cheese and prosciutto. Even the potato croquette tasted “to order.” Broiled sea bass ($2.75) was perfectly done, lightly garlicked, sprinkled with pungent flat-leafed Italian parsley.
        But the masterpiece was an order of Italian broccoli sautéed in oil, garlicky and so brilliant a green one cynic suspected a dash of illicit bicarbonate of soda has gone into the pot.
        Even Pavillon has its haute catastrophes. Paolucci’s downfall was the zuppa di pesce, ($4.75)...a mild, almost sweetly-scented fish soup of baby clams, tenderest squid, juicy shrimp and...disaster...great chunks of not-quite-cooked bass.
        We ordered cheesecake to chase the spectre of the zuppa. But it was still baking. Demi-tasse was brought to the table with a bottle of Anisette. The service was polite and professional.
***
        Little Augie Pisano was shot to death with Gian Marino’s recipe for clam sauce in his pocket. Grazie Dio. Little Augie departed still garlicky and glowing from his last supper. That was 1959. Today Gian Marin’s clam sauce is hardly worth getting shot for. It is stingily ladled over gummy linguini and under-garlicked.
        Still there is this to be said for Marino’s: The food is edible, often good, occasionally commendable and at 716 Lexington it is only a few steps from Bloomingdale’s. Perhaps it is the dim lighting or the waiters editorializing in Italian that makes Marino’s a twilight zone, free of shopping-bag tension.
        At the lunch hour peak there is waiting. The crowd is eclectic: shopping tourist couples, merchants and salesmen, an African diplomat, a bearded pop-music critic, those glamorous young men who wore Cardin suits before Cardin invented them, a sexagenarian with Lolita and at the next table a bull-necked fellow saying, “I don’t want to get myself killed.” Mother, a nervous visitor from the Middle West, wanted to leave at once. The service was polite and perfunctory. Only friends of the house were offered grindings of fresh pepper and crusty whole wheat bread.
        By two on another afternoon, the crowd had thinned. The maître d’ had time to serve a candlelit cake singing “Happy Birthday to You” with operatic bravura to a table of men with that New York face that could be Jewish or Italian.
        The menu is banal, á la carte, with most entrées in the $2.50 to $3.75 range at lunch, slightly higher at dinner. The special antipasto ($2) was not at all special. The Wednesday sausages were good but the ziti with it was not well drained, diluting the nondescript sauce ($3.25). Veal cutlet alla Milanese ($3) was crisp and tender. Tomato sauce, served on request, was thick, meaty and well-seasoned. Veal parmigiana ($3.25) was less successful. Clams Oreganate ($2) were six of the tiniest creatures, incredibly tender, juicy under a cover of well-seasoned crumbs.
        Ricotta cheesecake, though too cold, was excellent. And the espresso was the true foamy brew from one of those Rube Goldberg machines that could pass for a jukebox.
***
        The walls of Vesuvio are painted. That’s the decor. By the rules of Southern Italian soul you know a place that looks this bad has got to be good. To reach the corner of Liberty and Cleveland you cruise through the tenement wilds of burned-out Brooklyn. Do as our city fathers do. Don’t let the devastation spoil your appetite.
        The backroom is hopping...mink stoles...a guy with a suitcase who says, “I came here right from the airport”...very affluent types. There is one table in the bar room, the equivalent of the royal banquette uptown, no doubt. It’s reserved for Jimmy Breslin. We are celebrating his escape from the girdle ads in the New York Post and the movie sale of his novel, The Gang That Couldn’t Shoot Straight.
        There are no menus. What do you want? If they’ve got it in the kitchen, ecco la! You order generic: shrimp, veal, calamari. And then by color. Linguini with clam sauce...red or white? The house wine arrives in an unlabeled bottle. And the food, family style, on big oval platters. Sixty baked clams...we are only six. The clams are juicy, garlicky and good. Stuffed mushrooms are less interesting and slightly singed. The linguine, a little overcooked, is beautifully sauced, again, a feast of garlic. The Shrimp, Veal Marsala and Veal Francese are robust country food. The squid is drowning in an oily tomato sauce but tender and good. The leftovers would feed another four. We should have brought Fat Thomas*. The service is pleasant and businesslike, a tribute to the patrone, Tony the Sheik, veteran of Little Appalachin raids at Lombardi’s and La Stella. Well, I knew it wasn’t Tony the Chic. Dinner with demi-tasse and tip is $40.
        Vesuvio is moving soon. “To one of those cinderblock joints,” Jimmy glooms. “They’ll probably ruin the place.”
 
*Fat Thomas was a frequent character in Breslin’s columns edited by my then husband, the Kultur Maven.
***
 
 
        La Stella won its three-star rating from the Black Hand gourmet inspection team September 30, 1966, when a swarm of police invade the privacy of a family reunion. La Stella is still worth a side trip to Queens, wherever that is. 102-11 Queens Blvd., Forest Hills, to be precise.
        La Stella is busiest at dinner. Service seems slow because everything is cooked to order. At lunch though, you get some very serious eaters. Even so, the lone waiter, an unusually cheerful and friendly chap, reeled at the depth and breadth of our order. “My friend is celebrating her divorce,” I adlibbed in an attempt to explain. He provided dimes for our 30-minutes parking meter...and prompt reminders at half-hour intervals.
        The hot antipasto ($1.25) failed to survive its blanketing sauce though the shrimp were tender and the eggplant nicely seasoned. Cold antipasto ($1.25) was, again, more refreshing, nothing homemade but everything fresh and of excellent quality. Crisp slivers of zucchini, batter-dipped and deep fried (.90) were marvelous. Properly al dente spaghetti ($1.90) was heady with an abundance of garlic...perfect for me, too much for my friend. The striped bass marechiare ($2.75) was excellent, tender, with the subtlest of herbed tomato bits. Veal Rolatini ($3.25) was tough and dry.
        The cheesecake tasted homemade (.50) and the cannoli --  that pastry cylinder of creamed cheese with candied fruit and bits of chocolate -- prompted such ecstatic groans that the waiter urged us to sit awhile. “It’s only an hour or so till dinner,” he said.
 
 
 
 
RAO'S
 
East Harlem
This eponymous eatery, named for founder Charles Rao, opened its doors off Pleasant Avenue in 1896. It evolved into a social and gustatory phenomenon, a place where dinner reservations are about as hard to come by as a cheap one-bedroom with Central Park views. 
 
 
Hecklers are the worst. Most people just tell them to shut up, but mobster Louis Barone is not most people. When Albert Circelli wouldn't stop mocking Broadway vet Rena Strober's performance of "Don't Rain on My Parade" at Rao's, Barone silenced him by shooting him in the back with his .38. Barone went to jail, but a suitcase full of limbs turned up outside Rao's seven years later. The place's mob ties are so famous, Scorsese featured a regular (Johnny Roastbeef) in Goodfellas and used the spot as inspiration.
 
 
 
 
The NEW YORK "DAILY NEWS" FRONT PAGE
 
The Morning After Big Paul Castellano Got Whacked
 
Outside SPARK'S STEAK HOUSE
 
on West 46th Street Midtown Manhattan
 
Gambino Family Crime Boss Paul Castellano's Body
 
on the sidewalk in front of SPARK'S STEAK HOUSE
 
New York , NY
 
December 17 ,  1985
 
 
Paul (Big Paul) Castellano, the aging and beleaguered kingpin of American organized crime, was shot to death yesterday in front of a midtown steak house in a brazen rubout that investigators said “could determine the future” of the Mafia in this country.
Also killed with Castellano, 70, was Thomas Bilotti, 47, a reputed captain in the Gambino crime family, which Castellano had controlled since 1976. The two victims were both shot in the face by an execution team of three unidentified men who pulled semi-automatic handguns from their trenchcoats, according to investigators.
“This could be the beginning of a war,” said Thomas Sheer, deputy assistant director in charge of the New York office of the FBI. “If it is, this is the first battle.”
One of the gangland assassins reportedly fired a coup de grace shot into Castellano’s head before the three men fled on foot toward Second Ave. A police source said a witness saw one of the gunmen speaking into a walkie-talkie as he ran. The trio then jumped into a black rented Lincoln Town Car, with a New Jersey license plate - ABM 43Z - and made their getaway.
 
 
The Body of Thomas Bilotti
 
Paul Castellanos's Bodyguard / Driver
 
Lies in the Middle of East 46th Street
 
between 2nd and 3rd Avenues
 
as Bilotti and his Boss Big Paul Castellano
 
were Gunned Down in front of SPARK'S STEAK HOUSE
 
 
 
BIG PAULIE 1959
 
 
Spark's was a Favorite of Big Paul
 
 
That's Before his was Assassinated Outside
 
on ast 46th Street
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JOHN GOTTI
It was later revealed to the public that John Gotti orchestrated The Gangland Hit
on Gambino Crime Boss Paul "Big Paulie" Catellano in front of Spark's Steakhouse
on East 46th Street , and that Gotti and his Underboss Sammy "The Bull" Gravano
sat in a parked car on 46th Street a half a block away as two of Gotti's Button-Men
gunned down Castellano and his Bodyguard Thommy Bilotti in Midtown Manhattan
on the night of December 17 , 1985  ... By doing so, Gotti suceeded in one of the most
notorious Mafia Takeovers in American Mafia History ..
 
 
 
 
The SIRLOIN is de RIGUEUR
 
 
  
Creamed Spinach is the side dish of Choice
 
at Sparks and any Steak House at All.
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"Don't Forget The CANNOLIS"
That's what Corleone Capo Peter Clemenza's wife told him as he was leaving the house one day. The day they Whacked Paulie Stuffoza in retribution by Sonny Corleone               ( James Caan ) for Paulie's involement in the attempted murder of Don Vito Corleone, played by Marlon Brando .
 
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UMBERTO'S CLAM HOUSE
MULBERRY STREET / LITTLE ITALY NEW YORK
Umberto's was a favorite Mafia hangout / eatery where Joe Gallo , his associates friends and family liked to eat Shrimp , Mussels , ClamsScungili , and Calamari in all there popular ITALIAN Preparations     were prepared just the way Joe liked them. BAKED CLAMS FriedCalamari SPAGHETTI with CLAM SAUCE , Mussels Marinara , Lobster Fra Diavolo and all the favorite ITALIAN  Seafood Dishes could be had at Umberto's Clam House which was usally packed at night , especially late night when many were finished drinking for the night and needed some good eats before heading home.
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CRAZY JOE GALLO
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ITALIAN CHRISTMAS
Favorite "CRAZY JOE" RECIPES Inside
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Is Peter Luger Doing Better Than the Mafia?
 
 
 
PETER LUGER
 
The WORLD'S MOST FAMOUS STEAK HOUSE
 
Williamsburg Brooklyn
 
A Favorite Wiseguy Haunt 
 
        An influential New York Stock Exchange market maker and long-time habitué of the top-rated Brooklyn steak house complains to a Peter Luger manager about the long wait for a table.  He slips the man forty bucks.  And waits. “I thought there was a recession,” the customer complains.
        “What recession?” says the manager. “No signs of it here.” Business is up 15% so far this year, he claims.
        “Yes,” says the waiter to the specialist, finally claiming his table.  “We could be doing better now than the Mafia.”
 
 
 
 
 
 
The PETER LUGER PORTERHOUSE STEAK
 
 
 
 
 
 
f33a5-screen2bshot2b2016-09-282bat2b2-13-032bpm
The RAGU BOLOGNESE COOKBOOK
SECRET RECIPE
 
 
 
 
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Tuesday, July 18, 2017

Pasta Genovese Recipe Napoletana

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alla PACINO


   
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MACCHERONI alla GENOVESE








LEARN HOW to MAKE IT !

RAGU al GENOVESE

NEAPOLITAN Recipe




   
24295-segret-small


SEGRETO ITALIANO

SECRET RECIPES

by DANNY BOLOGNESE





     
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A HAPPY CAMPER

"Look at That FACE"

HE'S GOT PASTA GENOVESE





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JOES PIZZA

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JOE'S PIZZA
 
The Original
 
 
JOE'S is now 40 Feet up the Block on CARMINE STREET
 
 
GREENWICH VILLAGE , NEW YORK
 
 
 
 
 
JOE'S PIZZA
 
The Video
 
 
 
 
JOE PUZZOLI
 
Founder of JOES PIZZA
 
with Grandson SAL VITALE
 
 
 
SUNDAY SAUCE
 
 
 
 
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JOE'S Video
 
 

Monday, July 17, 2017

Worlds Best Panini Sicily

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LOOK at THIS BAD BOY
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FAMOUS PANINI GUY
 
Making a a BADASS PANINI
 
at Caseificio Borderi
 
SIRACUSA , SICILY
The BADASS PANINI
 
at CASEIFICIO BORDERO
 
SIRACUSA
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GRANDMA BELLINO 'S ITALIAN COOKBOOK
 
RECIEPS FROM MY SICILIAN NONNA
 
RECIPES
 
CAPONATA
 
PASTA con SARDE
 
RAGU SICILIANA
 
and More ...
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Saturday, July 15, 2017

Pizza Fritta and FoodPorn

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ANTICA PIZZERIA D'e' FIGLIOLE


NAPOLI







MAKING PIZZA FRITTA

MOZZARELLA RICOTTA & ANCHOVIES


ANTICA PIZZERIA FIGLIOLE


D' DAUGHTERS
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CARMELA Making PIZZA FRITTA ESCAROLE








CHE BELLA ?



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PIZZA FRITTA







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SUNDAY SAUCE 

by DANIEL BELLINO "Z"





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THE GIRLS of ANTICA PIZZERIA FIGLIOLE

NAPOLI , ITALY




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SEGRETO ITALIANO

SECRET RECIPES

ITALIAN STYLE !



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PIZZA FRITTA




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SCAROLE !!!!!

Friday, July 14, 2017

DiFARA PIZZA is a RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE

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The MAESTRO DOM DeMARCO at WORK !!!

  Yes," Eating Pizza Made by The Maestro DOM DeMARCO Is a Religious Experience!
 
    Much has been said of the now famed Pizzeria (DiFara Pizza) on Avenue J in Brooklyn, New York the Capital of Thee Best Pizza in the whole United States of America, bar-none, even Manhattan. Brooklyn lays claim to the Top two Pizzerias in the country, the top of the list 1 and 2, number 1, The Best and number 2, the second best. Well no, I don't know if I should put it that way, as it sound s as one is better than the other, which is not ht e case, as they are both equally good, equally Great and equally the Best Pizza and the Best Pizzerias in the United States, though they are are little different than one another. The Pizza at both Totonno's on Neptune Avenue in Coney Island, Brooklyn, New York  and Di Fara Pizza on Avenue J in Brooklyn are both otherworldly specimens  of some the Finest Pizza on other and the Undisputed Best Pizza in America.
    Wow, got off on a tangent about both Di Farra and Totonno's when I just intended to talk about Di Fara Pizza, Dom DeMarco the Maestro of Di Fara's and the Religious experience that it is to go there, watch Dominic masterfully make Pizza after glorious Pizza (without the help of anyone else), to watch in awe and anticipation and Salivation til you finally get yours (after about a hour or hour and a half wait), you hold it in your hand like a precious baby, and then to sink your teeth into it, savoring each wondrous bite after the other. "Yes," it is truly a religious experience, that is, if you are a great lover of this wonderful invention, created in Napoli, spread throughout the the Italian Peninsular and then across the Atlantic to America from Italian Immigrants where Gennaro Lombardi opened the First Pizzeria in America on Prince Street in New York City some 100 years ago or so.
    Back to Di Farra and Pizzaiolo Extraordinaire, Mr. Dominic DeMarco. It is Dominic that makes Di Farra what it is, it certainly isn't the Pizzeria itself which is ultra plain and even appalling to some. Mr. DeMarco's pizzas are just about as close to absolute perfection in the Pizza Making World, a world in which New York City excels and has only one rival in Naples, Italy and the whole of Italy itself. Mr. De Marco has the magic touch, with perfect dough, the perfect balance of ingredients, tomato and other ingredient ratio to cheese, and this include Mr. Demarcos judicious use of Olive Oil which is right-on and a little magic touch that whoever complains about it, just does not know there Pizza and Italian Food on a whole. We Italians love our olive oil. And those who complain are unaware that it is a condiment that adds the final last touch to many dishes before they are eaten. Dominic knows this and should not be discourage against his generous use of it by those who do not understand the proper essence of the Italian Table. So please, keep your traps shut, if you don't like it don't eat it, this countries finest examples of the Pizza Art.      And on to the religious experience of Di Fara, Dom DeMarco and the mans artistry with Pizza. There is nothing quite like it in the entire Pizza World. There does not exist, to my knowledge any place in the world that has an elderly man making a hundred plus Pizzas a day in a place that has endless lines, day and night. Pizza that are so perfect, words can not describe  People line up for greatness and artistry, and for a couple of slices of the most marvelous pizza this side of Naples, and to watch this passionate little old man work his heart out, not getting, not allowing anyone else to make a pie at his beloved Pizzeria. The man is elderly. He's worked his whole life. He makes such a magical thing that people line up each and every day to see him and eat one of his many masterpieces. With business like this, he could hire to other Pizzaiolos to help him, doubling or tripling his business and and financial intake. He could hire two guys and make pizza along with them, or sit back and get three guys to do it. At his age, he's entitled to. But know, Dom DeMarco loves what he does, he loves his Pizza, each and every one that passes that counter and into thousands of appreciative hands. The man feels that no one else can make a Pizza the way he does; and wants; he grinds  chunks of Pecorino Romano in an old hand cranked meat grinder and sprinkles on each pie just before serving, along with cutting fresh Basil onto the Pizza at the last moment after Dom's prerequisite drizzling of the Olive Oil giving two different taste and contrast on the same pie, one baked on (Cheese) and one applied at the last moment, devoid of the hot oven heat. Dom guilds the Lilly, so to speak. This is truth, not just a figure of speech.     Yes Dom makes each and every Pizza that goes out or is consume on the spot, at DiFara's. No one else has his skills, his passion and love for the Pizza, thus he does it all himself. And this my friends is the reason that going to Di Fara's to watch Dominic the maestro in action, all by himself while hundreds of people line up every day, waiting an hour and a half to two hours just to get a Pizza (not just any old Pizza mind you). "It's a Religious Experience." Truly! A show and there is nothing like it in the World, Dom DeMarco, a man and his Pizza, America's Best, and something to rival that other World Pizza Capital, Napoli.   Daniel Bellino-Zwicke
     

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DOM

     

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SUNDAY SAUCE

 

by DANIEL BELLINO "Z"

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