La storia di Crocetti Archive


Jeff's handwritten transcription of Angelo Barra Crocetti's Ravioli recipe. All Rights Reserved © AdriBarrCrocetti.com



That is the Crocetti Family Ravioli recipe in its entirety as my grandmother, Angela Barra Crocetti, (known as Mom) dictated it to my mother, Josephine. My mother, known to all who loved her as Jeff, transcribed the recipe in the endsheet of her 1962 edition of the American classic, Joy of Cooking. There are no other directions. This recipe assumes a level of proficiency that any good Italian girl would have achieved by the age of fourteen. One of my fondest memories of Mom was sitting at the kitchen table in her home on Inglewood Boulevard in Los Angeles with the sunlight streaming in over my left shoulder. I remember it as though it were yesterday. Mom placed her spianatoia (wooden pastry board) on her kitchen table. She scooped a mountain of flour onto her board, dug a well in the center and into that well she cracked the eggs. In went the salt. Now it was time for the milk. Yes, the milk. I know. Well, back then I didn’t. Most pasta recipes, if they call for any liquid other than eggs will call for olive oil or water. But some Italian cooks often use milk for their filled pastas. And she measured that milk in the most charming fashion, in the half shell of a cracked egg. No need for a measuring cup. This was Italian home cooking from the ground up. She made but one concession to the modern age, but more on that later. She took her fork and began to beat the eggs, salt and milk in her well. As she agitated the ingredients she brought in the flour, bit by bit, incorporating it until she had a shaggy mass. Down went the fork, up went her sleeves, and she began to knead the big mass of dough. After about ten minutes she was satisfied with her supple dough. I was amazed. She covered it with a kitchen towel and we went into her sewing room.


After about half an hour we returned to the kitchen to form the ravioli. Mom cut the dough not with a fancy rolling cutter, but with a kitchen knife. She covered what she was not going to use right away, picked up her extra long matterello (rolling pin) and began to work her brand of wizardry on the dough. Back and forth she moved her matterello, coaxing the dough to an ever greater size and greater degree of thinness. To my child’s eye it looked like magic. She rolled over the dough and out to the edge farthest from her, then rolled that far edge of dough over her matterello pulling it back to her, rolling and gathering the dough around it as she worked, sliding her floured hands across the dough-covered tool, stretching it with her hands, then rolling it out to the far edge again. She gave the dough a quarter turn and repeated the process. Over and over. The dough she rolled was gorgeous, so thin I could see the shadow of her hand behind it as she lifted and turned it. Alchemy. And the sound of the dough on the board, sort of a “shh-shh.” Her pasta dough was light, yet strong enough to form into ravioli that kept its integrity when boiled. And that is where I came in. I was responsible for crimping the edges of the chicken and cheese packets she assembled. I used a fork to crimp the edges all the way around, the perfect job for a little girl, the initiation to the women’s kitchen. I remember being so proud when we were finished. It made eating the treasures all the more enjoyable. Remembering those days in her kitchen and looking at the recipe now I am astonished by the economy of tools, not to mention verbiage. No fancy rolling cutter, no Atlas machine, no KitchenAid pasta roller, no measuring cups. In fact, I doubt if she used a teaspoon to measure the salt.


When I was in my twenties I became an altogether obsessive cook, I wanted detail. I needed to know absolutely everything. Ah, if only I had been born into the era of recipes accompanied by step-by step photography. But no, I was taught by cooks who said things like “When it is the right consistency, pour the batter into a pan. Bake in a fast oven until done.” WHAT!! Good grief! What was I supposed to do? Obsessive young woman that I was I wanted particulars. For many years I was utterly constrained by obsessiveness. Ask my friends. They’ll tell you. If a recipe called for 1 1/4 teaspoons of vanilla extract and I had only 1 teaspoon, I did not make the dish. Period. Time has passed, and I now embrace improvisation. I enjoy being one of those cooks who can play in the kitchen and make do with what she has. My Italian forebears made do because they had to. Making do with what one has in one’s pantry is the hallmark of la cucina casareccia (home cooking), la cucina povera (the cooking of the poor.) I am writing this post to tell all of you not to wait until you are my age to feel free in the kitchen. Try new things. Look at the recipes you see here and elsewhere and make them your own. Build on your fundamentals toward a cuisine all your own. And take notes! Let me know what you have tried. I would love to hear from you.


Coming up… Part Two – Making the Ravioli



Angela Barra Crocetti's ravioli All Rights Reserved © AdriBarrCrocetti.com

Angela Barra Crocetti's ravioli as made by Adri Barr Crocetti

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Crostoli

Posted September 19, 2010 By Adri



A plate of finished crostoli All Rights Reserved © AdriBarrCrocetti.com



Dino Martin Crocetti and William Crocetti. All Rights Reserved © AdriBarrCrocetti.com

Dino and William - The Crocetti Brothers

“Mamma, Che buona!” My father William Anthony Crocetti, born Guglielmo, did not speak English until he went to grade school. So I have no doubt that was what he exclaimed every time he ate the crostoli his mother made in her kitchen at 319 South Sixth Street in their south end neighborhood of Steubenville, Ohio. I wasn’t there, but those were his words. Senza dubito. And I bet Dino echoed his big brother.






Italians have been making these treats for hundreds of years. A recipe even appears in Pellegrino Artusi’s seminal cookbook, L’Arte di Mangiar Bene (The Art of Eating Well), first published in 1891. Although these delightful pastry knots are the prototypical Carnevale indulgence, they are also served at Christmas, New Year’s and Easter. This type of dolci is called nastri delle suore (nun’s ribbons), but that would never do for Italy, a country whose inhabitants identify themselves by regional ties first and as Italians second. Twenty regions – more than twenty names. These treats are called galani or frittelle alla Venezia in Venice and the Veneto, crostoli in Friuli, cenci (rags and tatters) or donzelli (young ladies) in Tuscany, frappe in Umbria, sfrappole or lattughe (lettuces) in Emilia-Romagna, chiacchiere (gossips) in Lombardy, chiacchiere di suore (nun’s gossips) in Parma, bugie (lies) in Piemonte and gigi in Sicily. Da vero. Call them what you will, they are fried dough, and I love fried dough. Like my father, I grew up eating these deep fried delights.

Where I grew up. All Rights Reserved ©Toni Crocetti

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Spring-o-lators

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We called my grandmother Mom, and no typical nonna was she. When she arrived at our home I could always tell if she had a treat for us; instead of exiting her car and making her way directly up our driveway she went first to her passenger door, opened it and removed a long flat box. Then up our driveway she walked, box in hand, the clack-clack-clack of her Spring-o-lator shoes announcing her approach. We never knew what she had in that box, but we always knew it would be good. We four kids, my brothers Guy and Marc and my sister Toni and I, loved the cookies and we gobbled them up. My mother could always tell who had done most of the gobbling – the powdered sugar on the guilty party’s hands, face and chest was a dead giveaway. In fact that is how these cookies got their Piemontese name, bugie – liar’s cookies – as in “No Mamma. It wasn’t me, no mamma. I don’t know who ate the cookies…” Another of this cookie’s colorful names is chiacchiere or gossips. Some say the name came from the ladies of Lombard and the nuns of Parma who ate them as they gossiped. Still another source tells us the name originated with the sound the knots make when dropped in the cooking oil – “Pssst !” – just like the town gossip as she summons her listeners. Great stories all, which ever is true.


This cookie has a variation for every nonna. Some call for grappa, others get their alcohol kick from Gran Marnier, vin santo, white wine or rum while a few eschew spirits altogether. In Tuscany they are often made with olive oil in place of butter, and some regions use lard or shortening. Some use orange in place of lemon or no citrus at all. For the finishing touch, some cooks use confectioner’s sugar while others choose cinnamon sugar. As to the shape, some are plain ribbons, some are formed into pretzel-like shapes while others are twisted and pinched in the middle. You will also find flat squares or rectangles, some with one or two slits along the middle. This is the tradition of Italy’s beloved nonne at work, the tradition of variation on a theme that makes this cuisine so inviting, so forgiving, and so much fun.


Flour in Italy is classified by how finely it is milled, either 1, 0 or 00. Doppio zero is the most finely milled and feels like talcum powder. Do not confuse how finely ground the flour is with its protein content. Any strength flour can be ground into doppio zero. Just as we have pastry flour, all-purpose flour and bread flour with their varying protein contents, so do the Italians. They just have the added luxury of varying degrees of milling. To see the full range of flours available to the Italian cook go to the Molino Caputo website. I use a doppio zero flour that is comparable in protein content to our American all-purpose flour. Doppio zero flour is available at Italian markets and Amazon. com. If you can not find it, regular all-purpose flour will do nicely. Use the same amount the recipe calls for.


Mom made her dough by hand in the traditional manner – mounding her flour on a wooden board, making a “well” in the center, filling it with the ingredients and incorporating them with a fork. In a concession to the age of the mechanized kitchen I use my KitchenAid.


This dough is a dream to work with. Do not be intimidated by the idea of rolling it very thinly. You will be able to do so with great ease. Honest. On the subject of frying oil – Mom used solid Crisco, and there is no reason to change that. But if you have something else on hand, peanut oil, vegetable oil, feel free to make use of what is in your pantry. Mom drained the cookies on brown grocery bags. Some cooks use paper towels. I have found that placing the fried cookies directly on a cooling rack suspended over a sheet pan works very well.


A note about these cookies: they fry up very quickly, so be sure to have everything you need close at the ready. Banish the kids and pets from the kitchen. You will be working with a large volume of very hot oil.


And finally, do not overcook the crostoli. If you do you will not taste the grappa!

As the Italians say “Divertiti!” Have fun!


Ingredients for crostoli

Here is what you need. Don't be daunted. Just follow step by step. They will come out perfectly!



Weighing flour

Weigh your flour for the most accurate measurement.



Flour in mixer bowl

Put flour in mixer bowl.



Add the sugar

Add sugar.



Add salt

Add salt.



Add lemon zest

Add lemon zest. I use a microplaner grater. It works beautifully.


Dry ingredients

Your dry ingredients are ready to go.



Turn on the mixer

Turn on the mixer briefly to combine.



Add butter

Add butter.



Lightly beat egg

Lightly beat egg.



Add egg

Add egg and combine.



Add vanilla

Add vanilla.



Add grappa

Add grappa and combine.



Add milk

Add milk and combine until dough comes together.



Check out dough

Stop mixer. Pinch off a piece of dough. It should be slightly moist, not sticky, a cohesive mass.



Remove dough

Remove dough from mixer.



Knead a few times

Knead a few times.



Shape dough

Shape into a disk and wrap in plastic.



Roll the dough

You are now ready to roll the dough.



Cut dough in half

Cut dough in half and keep the half you are not using covered.



Flour your board

Flour your board and get to it with your rolling pin.



Lift and turn your dough

Lift and turn your dough to prevent sticking.



Roll dough out to 1/16th inch

Roll dough out to 1/16th inch. Yes, you can!



Trim edges of dough

Trim edges of dough and measure to cut ribbons 6 inches long and 1 inch wide.



Use a rotella (ravioli cutter)

Use a rotella (ravioli cutter) to cut ribbons.




Forming knots

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Forming knots

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Forming knots

-3-

Forming knots

-4-











Forming knots

-5-

Forming knots

Finished!











Form knots and place on a floured tea towel.




Heat oil to 350

Heat oil to 350 degrees in a heavy deep-sided pan.



Drop knots in oil and fry

Drop knots in oil and fry a few at a time.



Fry until golden

Fry until golden. They will puff up enticingly.



Remove to a rack to drain

Remove to a rack to drain.



Ready to sugar

To keep things neat, place your tray and rack on a large piece of parchment. Have ready a bowl of confectioner's sugar and a small strainer.



Dust with powdered sugar

While still warm dust with powdered sugar.



Mom would be proud

Lovely. Mom would be proud. Maybe she'd even say, "Brava, piccina!"



Crostoli


makes about 3 ½ dozen


200 grams 00 flour (This should measure 1 ½ cups when lightly spooned into measuring cups, then leveled with a flat edge.)

1 tablespoon granulated sugar

zest of 1 lemon

generous pinch salt

1 large egg, lightly beaten

1 tablespoon unsalted butter, at room temperature

1 tablespoon grappa

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

3 to 4 tablespoons whole milk

shortening or oil for frying

confectioner’s sugar


In a mixer bowl fitted with paddle attachment, combine the flour, sugar, lemon zest and salt. With mixer running add egg, butter, grappa and vanilla. Gradually add 3 ½ tablespoons of milk to form a soft malleable dough. Remove dough from bowl, pat into a disk. Wrap in plastic, and set aside to rest for 1 hour.

Line a sheet pan or tray with a tea towel. Lightly dust the towel with flour. Set aside. Divide dough in 2 pieces, keeping the one you are not using wrapped in plastic or covered with a towel. On a lightly floured board, roll out dough as thinly as you can, about 1/16-inch thickness; dough should be almost translucent. Using a ravioli cutter cut dough to form ribbons 6 inches long and 1 inch wide. Tie a knot in the center of each ribbon, and place on the towel-lined pan in a single layer. Keep the knots covered as you work.

Meanwhile heat a generous amount of oil to 350 degrees in a heavy deep-sided pan. A candy thermometer placed on the side of your pan assures correct cooking temperature. Have ready a rack placed over a sheet pan. Fry the knots, a few at a time, until they color, about 20 to 30 seconds. Remove with a slotted spoon, spider or metal tongs, and place on rack to drain. Sprinkle liberally with confectioner’s sugar. Crostoli are best eaten the day they are made.



Solo Crostoli All Rights Reserved © AdriBarrCrocetti.com


Note: You can click on any picture to see a slide show!

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The LA County Fair

Posted September 4, 2010 By Adri



LA County Fair

Home Arts Building c. 1980



“Calling all chefs, bakers, and food lovers… join your fellow culinary artists in one of the many contests and competitions offered this year at the L.A. County Fair!” That’s what it says on the L.A. County Fair website Culinary Styles Contests and Competitions page. I read the article about the Fair in Thursday’s Los Angeles Times and the memories came flooding back. Years ago I was an avid L.A. County Fair Home Arts competitor with lots of laughs, photographs and Winner’s Ribbons of all stripe to show for it. I entered jams, jellies, preserves, candy, breads, specialty bread… you name it. I even entered a Cheesecake Contest. And who could forget the Baker’s Chocolate Brownie Contest? It was a ton of fun. Back in the day the food contests were held under the auspices of the Home Arts Section. In early Spring all contestants registered by mail with the Home Arts Division to enter the contests of their choosing, and the reward far outweighed the minimal entry fee. While some contests are judged live at the Fair, most are judged prior to the Opening Day. Contestants deliver their entries to the Pomona Fairplex several weeks prior to the opening of the Fair for closed judging. Let me tell you, it is hard to leave those babies and wonder what folks will think of them. I always wanted to tell the ladies something about them. I always wondered on the drive home what would become of my creations. Opening Day arrived, and it was time to go.


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Mom’s Sauce

Posted August 21, 2010 By Adri



Angela Barra Crocetti. All Rights Reserved © AdriBarrCrocetti.com

Angela Barra Crocetti



We called her Mom. Her full name was Angela Barra Crocetti. She was my paternal grandmother, and woe betide the individual who addressed her as such. It was Mom. Period. And her husband, Gaetano, well, we called him Pop. That’s just the way it was. Mom was born in Fernwood, Ohio in 1898. My grandfather, Gaetano Crocetti was born in 1894. He left his home town of Montesilvano in the region of Abruzzo, Italy and traveled to Naples in 1913. From there he boarded the Hamburg to sail to the United States of America, arriving at Ellis Island in September. Sponsored by his brothers, he went to live in Steubenville, Ohio, and in 1914 he married Angela Barra. Their firstborn, Guglielmo (William), my father, came into this world in 1916. And his brother Dino followed one year later. Mom was a terrific cook and a terrific grandmother. Uh oh, there’s that word again. She came to visit us, it seems, every day. I remember her driving up in her white Cadillac carrying an impossibly huge buff leather pocketbook. Now that was the treasure chest.
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Cooking Channel Honors Julia Child

Posted August 13, 2010 By Adri


Happy Birthday Julia Child

Happy Birthday Julia Child


Here I am on the Cooking Channel web site! Cooking Channel put out the call to food bloggers to honor Julia Child’s birthday on August 15 by making her recipes and submitting photographs. My version of Julia Child’s Crème Renversée au Caramel is included in their gallery of “faves!”


Click here to see my original post honoring Julia Child and her Crème Renversée au Caramel.


Click here to go to the Cooking Channel’s Julia Child Tribute page (click through to the second photo.)


I have no affiliation with any product, manufacturer, or site mentioned in this article.

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Happy Birthday Julia!

Posted August 6, 2010 By Adri
Creme Renversee au Caramel

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Julia Child’s birthday is August 15, but I just had to get a head start to let you all know so you could plan your own Julia feast to honor her. Aside from the chef at Dino’s Lodge who used to make me giant cones of matchstick potatoes, my first out-of-the family food influence was Julia Child. I remember my dad encouraging me to come and sit in the living room with him as he waited for her show to come on the air. He thoroughly enjoyed her show and encouraged me to do the same, a man ahead of his time. I think he may have had an ulterior motive, though. He often drew my attention to how gracefully and with what ease she navigated any culinary mishap. He prompted me to notice that she never took herself too seriously; when things went awry, she was able to roll with it and make the best of it. Life lesson, I think. I have been accused of being too “picky,” too “fussy,” too much of a “perfectionist,” “too hard on myself,” well you get the picture. My dad had my number, and in his wonderfully easygoing dad way figured out how to help the kid loosen up a bit. Thanks, Dad.


Today’s post, a tribute to Julia Child, is Crème Renversée au Caramel, a milk custard thickened with eggs and baked in a caramel lined mold. The custard is turned out of the mold onto a serving plate and winds up being served upside down. That’s the renversée part. A sweet river of caramel flows over the custard and envelopes the dessert. This is my favorite custard dessert. It is lighter than creme brulee and more sophisticated than an American baked custard. For all its elegance it is pretty simple to make. Line a mold with caramel. Scald some milk and then whisk it into eggs and sugar. Pour it into the caramel lined mold and bake in a water bath. Chill and unmold. That’s all there is. Really. Oh, except for that satisfying “plop” when the creme caramel releases from its mold and slips onto the serving plate. You can make this classic dessert. Practice a couple of times if you are nervous. It will never go to waste. It is sublime and oh so satisfying at 3:00 am, and also great for breakfast. But you didn’t hear that from me. For the complete recipe I direct you to your copy of Mrs. Child’s masterwork Mastering the Art of French Cooking Volume 1 page 610. One thing though, caramel is fiercely hot. When you are working with it get the kids and the pets out of the kitchen.


I was prompted to post this entry when I saw Cooking Channel’s call to food bloggers to honor Julia for her birthday. I am happy to participate. I had the opportunity to meet La Grande Dame one afternoon in Santa Barbara. I said to her what so many thousands said to her over the years. “It is a pleasure to meet you. I just can not tell you what an influence you have been on me.” Corny? No. Honest? Yes. Sincere? Darn straight. She was gracious, kind and engaging and gave so freely of her time. What a great lady she was. And what an honor it was to have met her.

I have no affiliation with any product, manufacturer, or site mentioned in this article.

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