I found a container of gravy from last year’s Thanksgiving dinner in my freezer which not only made me think, geez, I really should be cleaning out my freezer more often, but triggered some funky old family memories confirming that all had not always been well in our household.
From what I can best remember, there was a year where my mom kind of lost her mind.
One snowy Christmas break during high school, I was stuck in the house and was heating up some New England clam chowder. I must have walked away allowing the the soup to boil over creating a molten milk-encrusted lava mess over the range top and into the gas burners. Mom, born graced with an even temper and disposition suddenly exploded in an equally volcanic manner and began screaming at me about my carelessness. This would have been expected behavior from my father (a man we all tippy-toed around from the moment he walked in the door, and lasted until he was fed and safely ensconced in his lair lest we unleash the crazed beast lurking just beneath the surface) , but nothing one would ever expect from my gentle-mannered mother; I was stunned.
Cleaning up the mess I caught a whiff of something dead and putrefied and couldn’t fathom where the god-awful stink was coming from. I opened the cabinets under the range and started removing pots and pans, certain an animal corpse was rotting in the cupboard. I pulled out a large, lidded saute pan and realized by the weight that it was full…..of something, and cautiously looked inside. I screamed. The smell was nauseating and I wanted to vomit. Mom was already irrational from the tiny disaster on the stove and now I was also freaking out. I brought the pan over to the sink, turned my head and reluctantly pulled off the lid. Inside were the festering maggoty remnants of turkey and gravy from Thanksgiving which we had celebrated maybe a month earlier. My mom proceeded to break down in a way that is painful for me to remember; she ultimately ran from the kitchen into her bedroom and slammed the door. I don’t remember exactly when she reappeared – most likely in time to ensure my dad’s meal was on the table when he pulled in the driveway.
My mother was an accomplished home cook; the food always delicious but mealtimes were not. We never knew what to expect when my father came home and to say we were on edge at the dinner table is putting it mildly. I was permitted to read at meals and ate armed with a book propped up in front of my face so as to avoid potentially inflammatory conversation. Am I painting a Walton family dinner picture here?
The year following the episode of the forgotten Thanksgiving bits, holiday meals became non-traditional in their offerings. Mom seemed a be a little more worn, and Rosh Hashana did not bring the expected brisket, but instead this macaroni casserole. When asked, mom quietly proclaimed that she wasn’t making another goddamn brisket (she might have actually said “fucking”, but that is beyond my present realm of comprehension). Thanksgiving? Inquiring about a turkey brought the same mildly defiant assertion as the one about the brisket, and this comforting, unpretentious meal appeared once more. This might have been about as rebellious as I had ever seen my mother, and I was secretly pleased with her stance.
Flipping through my mom’s recipe box yesterday I found this one in her handwriting. Of course, the tears came and the nine years that she has been gone only felt like brief moments. My daughter ate the cozy dish filled with savory, tomatoey beef and soft curds of cheese that squish deliciously between your teeth for the first time today. After her third helping, she declared the meal one of the best I have ever made. Her Nana would have beamed with delight to hear those words. I’ll never know exactly what it was that pushed my mother to the brink that blustery winter afternoon, but I do know it really wasn’t about the messy stove. In honor of my mother’s memory and in the spirit of our tradition of non-tradition, this year I’m not making another goddamn turkey; I’m gathering my crew and we’re going down to Chinatown.
Mom’s Baked Macaroni and Beef
Yield – 8-10 servings
8 ounce package elbow macaroni
1/4 olive oil
1 medium yellow onion, diced
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 pound ground beef
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
1 teaspoon sugar
1/2 teaspoon dried basil
Few grindings black pepper
2 14.5 ounce cans diced tomatoes and their juices
1 small can tomato paste
1 pint large curd creamed cottage cheese
1/2 pound shredded sharp cheddar cheese
1 pound sliced mozzarella cheese
Heat the olive oil in a large saute pan and add the onion with a pinch of salt. Sweat the onion until translucent. Add the garlic and saute until softened.. Add the beef and cook until the meat loses it’s red color. Add the salt, sugar, basil, tomatoes and tomato paste. Simmer slowly for one hour at low heat. Let cool.
While the sauce is cooling, boil the macaroni in salted water until tender. Drain and rinse in cold water; drain well again. Combine the macaroni with the cottage cheese in a large bowl. When the sauce has cooled, combine with the macaroni mixture.
Grease a 9 x 13 pan with olive oil and pour in all of the macaroni mixture; smooth the top. Cover the macaroni with the cheddar cheese; cover the cheddar with the mozzarella.
Cover the macaroni and refrigerate overnight.
The next day, preheat the oven to 325. Bake the macaroni uncovered for one hour. Let stand 10-15 minutes before serving. This keeps well for days and only gets tastier.
25 Comments
it’s amazing that we somehow survived our childhoods…
i love this because well, sometimes the memories just are not all warm and fuzzy and cozy. sometimes the memory sucks…
but i am so glad the recipe can somehow shine above it all…
Much nicer than the baked ziti of my youth.
CEF: Next year I can recap the Thanksgiving woe of my then 7yr. old son splitting open his forehead. Good holiday fun in the er. Chinatown it is.
CFT: Baked ziti at Thanksgiving? You should have come on over!
A very touching story, and a beautiful photograph of what looks to be a tasty dish. Thank you for the recipe! And report to us on what you had at the Chinese restaurant!
Really beautifully written; very lovely meal to commemorate your mother.
Really beautifully written; very lovely meal to commemorate your mother.
Really beautifully written; very lovely meal to commemorate your mother.
Really beautifully written; very lovely meal to commemorate your mother.
Really beautifully written; very lovely meal to commemorate your mother.
ahhh. i looove baked pasta dishes, and ziti is one of my favorites! this looks so good.
i tried to follow your blog, but it says your feed isn’t working!
Nancy: thank you, thank you and thank you.Dinner on St. Clair will be fabulous, as it always is.Healthy and happy to you.
MM:Thanks so much for reading.
Heather:I hope you enjoy this easy dish. I’d welcome your ziti reccipe.
You seem to be hooked into the feed as far as I can tell.
What a delicious recipe, accompanied by a touching, cute story… I love your blog. =) Happy holidays!
Scenes like that were all to familiar for me too. My parents have had episodes like that, where scenes in the kitchen were too much to handle. With 6 hungry kids, life in the kitchen was hectic, especially for my Dad.
Thanks for sharing your story and your Mom’s beautiful recipe.
good, poignant piece (not even sure what poignant means, but i’m guessing it works here)…well done blog too…jw
jesse: thanks so much, and happy holidays to you!
wor:in an odd way,it is good to know there are parallel universes.
jw:nice to have you stop by – anytime, and thanks.
A recipe, a memory and a great post, honest and touching.
Hope your china town thanksgiving was a happy one.
What a very poignant story. I’m teary over here! And I love these comfort food recipes more than anything. can’t wait to make it.
rachel – the holiday was very nice. Brought dad and didn’t even bring a book.
amy – thanks for reading. hopefully you’ll try the recipe -so glad it didn’t have potatoes as an ingredient!
what a story! thank you for sharing :-)
It’s great that you have such honest childhood memories -
Oops! Sent that too soon. Was GOING to say, It’s great that you have honest childhood memories, I think it’s so important in life to take the good with the bad and accept both for what they are.
AND it helps us keep our kitchen catastophes in perspective :)
Haven’t come back to visit in quite some time, and then wandered over here through Claudia’s Facebook… sorry I’ve been absent. I forgot how much I adore your page.
Thanks for bringing tears to my eyes. Sincerely.
And I’m making this for my husband. He will *love* it.
many MIchelle, Maris and Melissa – thanks for reading and your thoughtful comments.
Wow, thank you for sharing such a personal, if painful story. Food is often intertwined with memories, isn’t it. Some times for better and sometimes for worse.