The Cook and Her Books
The Unconventional Way
Dedication:
To my beautiful Nonna, the heart and soul to our family. There’s nothing I miss more than watching you knead dough 🩷
Nonna preparing tomatoes to make homemade sauce
This will most likely be the most unconventional cookbook blog you have ever read or followed by recipe. I made it this way because that’s how I learned how to cook, alongside watching my mom and my Nonna.
My name is Antonella , my family originated in a small town in Italy called Modugno Bari. I grew up in a traditional Italian household meaning we ate pasta pretty much everyday. On Sundays we’d go to church and then head over to my Nonna’s house where she would have what we call Sugo ( Sauce). My Nonna was probably the best cook in the world, I know I know everyone’s Nonna is the best cook in the world but she could literally put mortadella on sliced bread and it would taste heavenly. There was just something about Nonna’s touch that made everything taste good. So granted because Nonna was an amazing cook my mom is also an amazing cook.
When I was younger I never took an interest in cooking, I think because I always saw my mom and Nonna cooking. My job was to set the table. I don’t really remember when it was that I took an interest but I do remember the first meal I made and I’m not going to lie, It was a bribery meal. I attempted to cook a pasta al forno (translates to pasta in the oven) to bribe my parents to let me go to an all ages event at The Docks in Toronto. I wish you could see my face right now because I’m rolling my eyes at the fact that number one I failed at the simplest dish, and number two…for a night club, really? Anyways, I remember making the sauce and thinking this is going to let my dad say yes because he loves pasta (I’m also a daddy’s girl my mom is harder to convince lol) so anyways I cook the sauce boil the pasta put it all in the pan and toss it in the oven still thinking this is going to be amazing. The table is set and my parents walk in from work looking at me suspiciously, I had this big smile on my face and greeted them telling them I cooked them dinner. My dad has this big smile on his face, he was super proud like my fifteen year old daughter cooked us dinner, my mom has this smirk on her face and then said “What do you want?” I was stunned by that question thinking damn she caught me. So instead of telling her the truth I said nothing. Plates are on the table, I’m looking at my dish like why doesn’t this look proper, there’s no layers it’s just this thin one layered pasta al forno and if you’re Italian and reading this you’re probably laughing and shaking your head like this girl didn’t make enough pasta and that’s exactly what happened. My parents still said “Its okay, it still tastes good” and were super supportive. My mom explained what to add and take out for the next time. So we’re eating dinner, they have food in their mouth and I just blurt out saying “I want to go to this all ages event at The Docks, please let me go I’ll cook dinner everyday.” Just typical teenage begging they said yes but gave me the worst curfew of life which was midnight. I was sleeping at a friend's house so her parents agreed with that time as well (literally rolling my eyes as I’m writing this because nightclubs tend to start at midnight). But, from that day forward I wanted to continue trying to cook. Did I cook everyday? Absolutely not, not when I had a mom and Nonna that cooked so amazing. Even to this day when we go to my parents house for dinner Mom’s cooking is just always so much better.
As the years went by I tried new recipes and traditional ones. After my nonno had passed away my Nonna ended up moving into my parents house (not right away but eventually) as she had dementia and it was progressively getting worse. I remember on bad days my mom would call me and ask me to come over. My Nonna and I had this special bond, she was my best friend so whenever she was in one of her moods I seemed to have brighten her day by showing up whether it was just me or when I had my babies. Little did she know she always brightened mine, she was like a fuzzy blanket on a cold day. That warmth about her healed my soul.
I wanted to learn how to make homemade lasagna noodles before her dementia got worse because for me the store bought are just not the same. We sat in my moms kitchen and I counted each cup of semolina she would use and each egg, how much hot water because my Nonna never followed a recipe. It was all done from the heart, unless it was baking she had a little recipe book for that. While she was kneading the dough I watched, I watched every single movement, I studied her hands and that lump that forms in your throat when memories flash before you formed for me, knowing that dementia would soon take her away from me, so I savored every single moment I spent with her.
I remember how she would knead her dough for bread and would always carve the cross on it to bless it and pray over it before she would bake it. How she would taste the egg mixture and that always grossed me out but that was how she would measure how much more salt to put into it. I remember the scent of her home because sometimes when my mom cooks some of the recipes that my Nonna would, I get smacked in the face with the memories of my childhood with my family all together around Nonna and Nonnos table on a Sunday afternoon.
I think that’s what I want this cookbook blog to do for you and your family. I want you to cook with your heart and not measure every single ingredient.. so when I list the ingredients there won’t be a teaspoon of this or tablespoon of that because I didn’t learn to cook like that, I learned to cook with my heart and soul. I learned to cook to feed my family and build those sweet memories around the table filled with prank calling your nonno while he was at the dinner table or just laughter. Drinking Nonnos wine at Christmas while having opera competitions with my Nonna. Watching your mom and grandmother cook and talk about whatever is happening in each other's lives and setting that table to eat delicious traditional or non traditional food. That’s what I want for you to do with this cookbook blog. Make memories of your own with your friends and family and to cook with this book blog with all your heart and soul. Remember to measure with your heart's content when it comes to the spices/salt. I’m calling it the unconventional way.
𝒩ℴ𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝒶𝓃𝒹 ℐ 𝒶𝒻𝓉ℯ𝓇 𝓂𝒶𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓁𝒶𝓈𝒶𝑔𝓃𝒶 𝓃ℴℴ𝒹𝓁ℯ𝓈 2012
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