November 23, 2005
Unfinished Post: The Ammoglio (or An Ode to Mom)
I've been wanting to post about my mom - she's very ill and has been in the hospital for weeks. I'm flying home to NY to see her in a couple of days. But before I go...a post in honor of Mom.
As you have all probably guessed by now, family is big with me. My family, and most importantly my mother, has formed the foundation of my cooking life. Any passion I have for food is built upon what they have given to me. Creativity, which doesn't always mean creating an unapproachable piece of art on a plate, but rather creating food in its simplest form ... the proper combination of a few special flavors, comfort .... this is creativity in its art form. It must not have always been easy to feed 5 kids, ranging in age from 16 to 1. But I never remember not loving the food that I ate, and those extended family meals that were a day long event.
We have a secret in my family -- of course, it's not really a secret -- more like an important subtelty that non-Italians aren't aware of. I'll share it with you (but don't worry, I won't have to kill you.)
The Ammoglio. Notice we say "The" Ammoglio -- this is a sign of honor and respect, like talking about The King. It plays the most important aspect of cooking throughout my life, my italian background.
Those of you who know what I'm talking about are probably smiling in recognition, you sicilian italians out there, with working class parents who made it over to the U.S on a boat and brought you into the world, and you thought every food had garlic in it. But you secretly loved it and appreciated it, and your mouth waters now as you remember back....
...smoke coming off of crackling wood fires, family around make-shift tables in the grass, hazy summer heat, the smell of roasting, a basting brush made from a wad of sweet basil leaves, my "campagna" (the little house in the "country" [long island] where we all congregated for meals), sunken meadow beach, salty crabs grilled right from the sea. It means my young, strong, black-haired dad, and women stirring pots on the burning ground.
If there was ever one most important component of italian cooking life, it is this. (And possibly bread.)
The Ammoglio was vital to our cooking, but as I often say, we never gave it a second thought. It contains the simplest of ingredients, but they must be the freshest you can get. You must work it in a mortar and pestle, with love and awe. I remember my mom doing this in an old wooden mortar, reserved only for The Ammoglio. The wood was pungent with years of mashed garlic.
But where does it come from? How did it become such an integral part of every family gathering? How does it still survive today in our first generations, whose grasp of Italian has faded but who can don't think twice about saying these words, as if the mixture ran through our very veins -- The Ammoglio.
Awhile back, I asked my mother a few questions ...
1. Where does the Ammoglio come from? (does everyone in Sicily make it or is it special to our family?)
2. How did you learn to make Ammoglio?
3. Besides marinating meat, what are some ways that Sicilians use the Ammoglio?
... and she answered (more or less) via email:
"Ammoglio was used in Sicily as a condiment on pasta, if you did not have other things to put on pasta. It was especially used if you were a 'Carrettiere' family, which meant workers with a horse and wagon. Then we started to use it on fish or meat when we barbequed, over wood or charcoal. People also used it for marinating.
You know, they used to make the ammoglio and then they took a bunch of mint or the basil, tied it up and made like a brush ... you'd dip it in the ammoglio and rub it on fish or meat and then barbeque."
(You'll need your apron for this.)
This is how 2 tomatoes, a handful of basil, 2 garlic cloves, extra-virgin olive oil, and a little seasoning will change your life. Ammoglio is a marinade of the gods ... whatever it touches turns delicious. You can use it on pasta, but use it especially on grilled meats and (any kind of) seafood.
Smash the garlic with 1/2 teaspoon coarse salt until almost frothy. add the handful of basil and crush with mortar. add the chopped tomato and some fresh pepper, and slowly pound the tomatoes until you have a thick,liquidy mixture with pieces of tomato. Add a good lug of olive oil and stir.
Ammogio uses:
Note: Italians very the spelling of this sauce. Some spell it "ammoghio" and others spell it "ammoglio".
....this entry is incomplete -- I didn't get the chance to finish it so I am posting it as is.
