Patsy's Italian Family Cookbook (2 page)

My dad Joe’s first Communion, with his godfather, Uncle Vincent, about 1940.

From the days when my grandfather owned his first restaurant, the Sorrento, on West Forty-ninth Street, we served foods with Old World flavors. At that time Italians were pigeonholed into certain professions and musicians, florists, and tailors came for the Southern Italian food they couldn’t get anywhere else. Patsy and his wife Concetta would make the wonderful food of Naples, and customers meant it when they said it tasted “just like Mamma’s.” When Easter and Christmas came, specialties of the season (such as pastiera Napolitana and baccalà salad, both recipes that you’ll find in this book) were on the menu.

In the Catholic faith, the most enjoyable holidays are called feast days, and my family, like most Italian Americans, took the “feast” part literally. Because the restaurant was open on Sundays but closed on Mondays, we had our celebration dinner on Easter Monday. (We are now open seven days a week, but closed on a few holidays.) We’d gather at my grandparents’ home in Forest Hills, Queens. To show you the importance of food in our family, every floor of this house had a kitchen. (Even at Patsy’s Restaurant we have an upstairs and a downstairs kitchen, which may be because my grandfather was used to cooking that way!) The dinners were served in the basement because we had so many people we wouldn’t fit in the dining room. If we couldn’t all fit at the tables, as often happened, we would eat in shifts. Before the meal, my grandfather would take a palm saved from Palm Sunday’s service, dip it in holy water, and bless everyone at the table with a shake of the water.

While my memories of holiday parties are vivid, so are my recollections of everyday meals. Then, as now, we didn’t have a lot of time to spend over the stove, so we had a lot of delicious meals that were quickly prepared. Because my grandparents were so poor, both in Naples and for the first part of their
American life, we were taught to never, ever waste food. My grandmother Concetta showed us all how to turn leftover bread into bread crumbs, add hot milk to last night’s coffee for breakfast, or cook leftover pasta with eggs to make a frittata for dinner. Some of my favorite dishes have very humble ingredients like cauliflower and Brussels sprouts, stretched with some ingenuity to make a meal.

My dad and me in the kitchen, 1985—when I started my training.

Every day at Patsy’s, I sit down with my relatives and extended family and share a meal about 3 p.m., between lunch and dinner services. This is the same kind of meal that I would have if I were at home, spending quality time and catching up. We’ll order off the menu, or maybe one of us will make a home-style dish like roast chicken, or a family recipe.

Yes, running a restaurant is hard work, but there’s a lot of love and laughter. If you don’t think it’s fun seeing Billy Joel stand and sing “Happy Birthday” to a surprised guest, think again. Or staying open so Michael Bublé can have a party after a concert in Sinatra’s old hangout, the upstairs dining room. Or watching Frankie Valli tear into a bowl of spaghetti and meatballs. Or still, every day, have people ask where Sinatra sat or about his favorite dishes—arugula salad without garlic and very crisp, very thinly pounded veal Milanese.

There is a unique energy at Patsy’s that only comes with years in the business, serving up good food and good times. A customer said to me once, “Eating at Patsy’s reminds me of seeing Tony Bennett in concert. You realize the guy’s been fantastic for years, but it’s the skill that comes from doing it day in and day out that makes him so great.” That’s the way it is with Patsy’s.

But there is another kind of energy at the restaurant, the one generated when good friends and family get together for a great meal. Walking around the tables to chat with our customers, I have made more than a few invaluable friendships. Many years ago, my good buddy Tony Danza started calling me “My Pal Sal.” This three-word nickname has stuck and I hope it isn’t too long before you and your family come in and become part of our family.

—Sal J. Scognamillo

The Patsy’s crew, 1991.

A Patsy’s souvenir menu from the early 1950s.

Italian Cuisine à la Patsy’s

Patsy’s proudly calls itself a “red sauce” restaurant. This kind of Italian American restaurant features many dishes topped in tomato sauce, but of course, the quality of the place clearly relies on the excellence of the sauce. All of our recipes are rooted in traditional Italian cooking, which is based on seasonal produce (by necessity, because there was no refrigeration) and local products (a cheese made in the next town was considered foreign). You’ll find items on the menu that we have been making since the very first day my grandfather opened Patsy’s in 1944.

This means that we have been cooking our food the same way for decades. Occasionally we will put a more contemporary item on the menu (we love balsamic vinegar as much as the rest of the world), but for the most part, our customers come to Patsy’s for a taste of Old Italy. And we’re happy to provide that. My grandfather had a saying, “You aren’t born round and die square,” which meant that you don’t change much from the cradle to the grave. I think he also meant to apply that to Patsy’s. Another way of thinking is, as we say in New York, “If it ain’t broken, don’t fix it.” So many of the recipes we serve at the restaurant are based on ones that my family brought from Naples, and are just bigger batches of what Grandma Concetta, Aunt Anna, and others cooked for their families at home.

The party for my grandparents’ twenty-fifth wedding anniversary.

My father Joe learned how to cook from his father Patsy, and they passed on what they know to me. I am doing the same with my sons. Here are tips and advice on the cooking techniques and ingredients that we use every day so your home-cooked meals will taste like a Scognamillo cooked it.

Big Family, Big Pans

I am used to cooking for lots of people at the restaurant, and I think in large quantities. But we have a big family, too, and a holiday meal is usually cooked for at least two dozen people. When you are making a dinner party (or even a weeknight meal) for more
than a couple of people, a too-small skillet can defeat your efforts.

Simply put, you need utensils large enough for the job. With a medium, 9-inch-diameter skillet, many recipes would have to be cooked in batches. Every kitchen should have a 12- to 14-inch-diameter, heavy-gauge skillet that can hold four servings (fish fillets, chicken breast halves, chops, or what have you) at once. When food is crowded in a small skillet, it creates steam that inhibits browning, and browned food tastes best.

Two other cooking vessels will help cook the recipes in this book. A 6- to 7-quart Dutch oven, preferably enameled cast iron, is another must for braises and stews. (I like an oval one because it holds a chicken more efficiently than the round pot.) Another item that comes in handy is a flameproof 9 by 13-inch baking dish that can go under a broiler. Again, an enameled cast-iron dish will work beautifully. Some of my favorite recipes are finished with a blast of direct heat at the end of cooking to give the food a irresistible crusty surface.

A lot of our customers have small Manhattan kitchens with limited storage space. But even if you have to store these utensils underneath your bed, it is worth the slight inconvenience.

Bread Crumbs

We use plain dried bread crumbs, sold in a box at the market, for many dishes. They are handy and do the trick. To be in control of the recipe’s seasoning, don’t use the ones that are seasoned with herbs or cheese.

Many of our recipes use the homemade
Seasoned Bread Crumbs
. These have more texture and flavor than the store-bought version and can be stored in the freezer so you have them ready when you need them.

Olive Oil

One of the essentials in Italian cooking, choose your olive oil carefully. We use two olive oil varieties at Patsy’s and at home, too.

Extra-virgin olive oil is mechanically pressed from green olives without heat, and the contact with the skins gives the oil its color. (Truthfully, the “extra” in the name doesn’t mean much, only that the oil is very pure.) This first pressing is done without heat, so you will see “cold-pressed” on some labels. The very best and most expensive olive oil is estate-bottled, like wine, which means that the olives are grown, processed, and usually bottled from the same location. We use a top-quality olive oil that has a moderately heavy body and distinct, but not overpowering, olive flavor. This oil is reserved for recipes where the olive flavor should be noticeable, as in a pasta sauce or salad dressing. When choosing olive oil for your own use, taste it before using whenever possible. There are so many characteristics that define olive oil—peppery or grassy flavors, viscosity, and color—that it really boils down to personal taste.

The flavor of olive oil weakens when heated. For that reason, we also use a regular (formerly called pure) olive oil for cooking, or when we want the olive taste to be more neutral. Processed from the residual first pressing olives, this is the clear yellow olive oil that you see at the market (and for years, the only kind you could buy in America).