A few months after my Grandma Margie passed away, my mother and I were sitting around the kitchen table. Before her illness had progressed, my grandmother had been living with my mother, so she had all of my grandmother’s recipe cards tucked away in a cabinet above the refrigerator. On that morning, we were flipping through my grandmother’s recipe cards, marveling on how many she had. Some were printed out and pasted onto index cards, but a lot of them were handwritten.
I often tell people that I came up with the idea for this newsletter after finding those cards, but it was my mother and I together who thought it would be a good idea to collect all of these recipes into a book to share with the rest of the family. When he was alive, people called my Grandpa Tony (Margie’s husband) the glue that held the family together. Now my mother has taken on that role. She is constantly encouraging my brothers and I to spend time with both our cousins and the children of her cousins. She hosts 40 people at her house for Christmas Day. So the idea of a family cookbook was music to her ears.
All of this is also why we tried to pull off a surprise party for her birthday this year. And while she figured it out because she just had to know, and it wasn’t a surprise, she still teared up when she saw everyone in the room. But the thing I know about my mother is this: She wasn’t emotional because we were all there for her. She was emotional because there is very little she loves more in this world than a room full of her family, drinking, dancing, and making memories together.
I pulled this Cioppino recipe this week, not just because Ben and I were jonesing for some seafood, but because this was an index card written in her hand, so I figured it must have been a Diane recipe. But she confirmed that it was, in fact, her mother Margie’s. But that doesn’t even matter, really. Because my mother is less about personal recognition (I get that trait from my father). She is more interested in being the person to pass the baton, to ensure these stories get passed on, even if she doesn’t get the recognition for it.
That’s one of the reasons why I love her, and why I will one day compile these recipes not just in this newsletter, but into a cookbook that she can share with the family. It’s the least I could do to pay her back for teaching me about family, love, and cooking.
Happy birthday, mama.
INGREDIENTS
1 small onion, chopped
1 green pepper, chopped
4-5 garlic cloves, chopped
1 teaspoon basil, plus more for topping
2 tablespoons parsley
1 teaspoon oregano
1 bay leaf
Salt and pepper, to taste
2 28-oz cans of tomato puree
1 cup of water
1/2 cup white wine
2 pounds mussels
15 little neck clams
1/2 pound scallops
1/2 cup shrimp, deveined, shelled, with tails on
Olive oil
French bread, for serving
INSTRUCTIONS
In a large, heavy-bottom pot, add 2 tablespoons of olive oil and sauté the first three ingredients over medium-high heat until softened, about 5 minutes. Add in the basil, parsley, bay leaf, oregano, a little salt and a few cracks of pepper and sauté for another 3-4 minutes.
Lower the heat to medium-low and add in your tomatoes, wine, and water. Bring to a light simmer, and cook, covered, for 30 minutes.
Meanwhile, prepare your seafood. Soak your mussels and clams in a big bowl of cold, salted water for at least a half hour so that they can purge. Drain. Toss any mussels and clams that are already open. Remove the beards from the mussels. Slice the side muscle from the scallops, and if they’re large, cut them in half.
Remove the cover from your pot. Add in your mussels and clams and cook, uncovered, for 10 minutes, until the clam and mussels shells have opened. Add in your scallops and shrimp and cook, uncovered, for another 5 minutes.
Remove the pot from heat, cover, and let stand for 30 minutes. Serve with some toasted French bread and a drizzle of finishing oil. Don’t forget your extra bowl to collect shells.