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Maccheroni alla Chitarra con Ragù d’Agnello
From Abruzzo comes Guitar Cut Pasta with Lamb Ragù
Abruzzo – from the majestic Gran Sasso to its beaches on the Adriatic Sea this part of Italy has postcard perfect terrain. To walk in the mountains of Abruzzo is to walk the age old route of the transumanza – the seasonal sheep migration, and indeed, sheep figure prominently in the socioeconomic history of this region and its cuisine.
Gaetano Alfonso Crocetti
Born 1894 Montesilvano, arrived New York 1913, died 1967 Los Angeles, California
My grandfather, Gaetano Crocetti was born in Montesilvano, Abruzzo. He loved the food of his homeland, and although I have written previously about Ferratelle, the Abruzzese take on Pizzelle, this region has as its most singularly recognizable contribution to Italian cookery an implement known as the chitarra, a tool used to cut pasta. In her book Food and Memories of Abruzzo Anna Teresa Callen writes that this tool appears in manuscripts dating as far back as the thirteenth century.
Indeed la chitarra is part of Abruzzese culture, Read the remainder of this entry »
Mom’s Sauce
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.
Read the remainder of this entry »