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1.0Farmboyhttps://farmboyinthekitchen.comkettlesohttps://farmboyinthekitchen.com/author/kettleso/rich600338<blockquote class="wp-embedded-content" data-secret="ZtWprkAVEo"><a href="https://farmboyinthekitchen.com/2023/01/29/calling-all-nonnas-to-the-kitchen/">Calling All Nonnas – to the Kitchen</a></blockquote><iframe sandbox="allow-scripts" security="restricted" src="https://farmboyinthekitchen.com/2023/01/29/calling-all-nonnas-to-the-kitchen/embed/#?secret=ZtWprkAVEo" width="600" height="338" title="“Calling All Nonnas – to the Kitchen” — Farmboy" data-secret="ZtWprkAVEo" frameborder="0" marginwidth="0" marginheight="0" scrolling="no" class="wp-embedded-content"></iframe><script type="text/javascript"> /* <![CDATA[ */ /*! This file is auto-generated */ !function(d,l){"use strict";l.querySelector&&d.addEventListener&&"undefined"!=typeof URL&&(d.wp=d.wp||{},d.wp.receiveEmbedMessage||(d.wp.receiveEmbedMessage=function(e){var t=e.data;if((t||t.secret||t.message||t.value)&&!/[^a-zA-Z0-9]/.test(t.secret)){for(var s,r,n,a=l.querySelectorAll('iframe[data-secret="'+t.secret+'"]'),o=l.querySelectorAll('blockquote[data-secret="'+t.secret+'"]'),c=new RegExp("^https?:$","i"),i=0;i<o.length;i++)o[i].style.display="none";for(i=0;i<a.length;i++)s=a[i],e.source===s.contentWindow&&(s.removeAttribute("style"),"height"===t.message?(1e3<(r=parseInt(t.value,10))?r=1e3:~~r<200&&(r=200),s.height=r):"link"===t.message&&(r=new URL(s.getAttribute("src")),n=new URL(t.value),c.test(n.protocol))&&n.host===r.host&&l.activeElement===s&&(d.top.location.href=t.value))}},d.addEventListener("message",d.wp.receiveEmbedMessage,!1),l.addEventListener("DOMContentLoaded",function(){for(var e,t,s=l.querySelectorAll("iframe.wp-embedded-content"),r=0;r<s.length;r++)(t=(e=s[r]).getAttribute("data-secret"))||(t=Math.random().toString(36).substring(2,12),e.src+="#?secret="+t,e.setAttribute("data-secret",t)),e.contentWindow.postMessage({message:"ready",secret:t},"*")},!1)))}(window,document); /* ]]> */ </script> https://farmboyinthekitchen.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/12/IMG_01151001-e1608218451292.jpg13311018A feature story in the Washington Post this week about a Staten Island restaurant made me smile because it reminded me about the main traditions that drive what we eat. This popular eatery – reservations must be made several weeks in advance – is officially named Enoteca Maria, but it’s better known as “nonnas of the world.” That’s because the chefs are a rotating roster of actual nonnas (that’s Italian for grandmothers). These grandmothers might now live on Staten Island, but they’re originally from regions all over the world. For many of us, it’s our grandmothers who typically set the table for the foods that are the cornerstone of our meals. My grandmother always put on a fabulous spread. That’s her on the left in the photo above, along with my mother and my great-grandmother. Back in the 1950s, her great meals made use of what was available at a time when food sources were limited and the distribution system was not what it is today. For example, vegetables and fish were canned. My grandmother also made good use of her two large freezers, packing away the locally grown peas, asparagus, and sweet corn. And I know that she passed on a lot of her knowledge to my mother, thereby influencing what was on our table every day. On Staten Island, owner Joe Scaravella, a former employee of the Metropolitan Transit Authority, opened the restaurant after losing his own mother, grandmother, and sister. Using money left to him by his mother, he purchased a vacant storefront with the idea of recreating the experience of going to his nonna’s house for a meal. Next, he advertised in the local Italian-American newspaper for “nonnas” who could make those regional Italian dishes he remembered. The response was overwhelming. Thanks to those nonnas who cook at the restaurant, business took off, and a few years later, Scaravella began inviting grandmothers from other cultures to share their food heritage. Now, the nonnas cooking at the restaurant every night represent cuisines from all over the world – from Argentina to Taiwan, Puerto Rico to Poland. And every night, after the food is served, customers applaud for those cooks. I haven’t visited Enoteca Maria yet, but when I’m in New York City, I enjoy going to Astoria, Queens, where there’s a global smorgasbord of restaurants. You can find eateries highlighting cuisines from Egypt to Greece to Vietnam and all sorts of places in between. Max Bratwurst und Bier is just down the street from Gianpiero Bakery, and the Egyptian Kebab Café is across the street from Sands of Persia. It’s a wonderful way to dine – and find intriguing new ideas to prepare food. As for Enoteca Maria on Staten Island, I think it’s brilliant. The restaurant provides an opportunity for average folks to enjoy an authentic, home-cooked experience from another culture without traveling. After all, what might be common in one place may taste and look exotic in another. If Scaravella was looking for a nonna who could make a meatball like his, imagine what a meal of noodles from a Japanese grandmother or a chicken peleau from a Trinidadian nonna might taste like. I don’t know why such a concept might not expand to other locales. As for my own grandmother, I don’t have many of her recipes. Turns out that she wrote down very few. Thanks to a cookbook compiled by her local church, however, we do have her recipe for scalloped chicken … but not her pot roast. We have a few of her baked dessert recipes, but not the brown-sugar date cookies that everyone loved. I’m making a cookbook of my mother’s treasured recipes that the family has enjoyed over the years so that my kids and grandchildren have a record. As for my own recipes, they’re typically from ideas that I’ve garnered from cookbooks or online. I try to have at least three or four new dishes every week. And when I taste something new from someone’s grandmother, I’m tempted to try to make it myself. 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