My suocera at home.

A is in no way, shape, or form a mammone (ma-mo-neh). What, you may ask, is a mammone? He would be the stereotypical Italian male who is practically attached to his mamma by the umbilical cord. He loves her above all else (at times, including his wife), loves her cooking and her cooking only, and lives a maximum of five minutes away from her his entire life.

Thankfully, the hubs doesn’t meet this description.

Italians are completely aware of the mammone phenomenon, and the self-awareness shows a variety of forms: TV specials, articles, shocking arrests, and of course, jokes.

My excessively devout brother-in-law (as in, he considered going to a seminary and becoming a Catholic priest level of devotion) told me the following:

Q: How do you know that Jesus was Italian?

A: Because he lived with his mother for 33 years, thought he was the son of god, and that his mother was a virgin.

I may be paraphrasing a rough translation…he told me the joke many many years ago.

I should also mention that the said brother in law is 39…and lives at home.

Anyway, as I was saying, A is not a mammone, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t love his mamma’s cooking. He even dared to say at one time that his mother made a certain dish—risotto—better than I. GASP! The horror! Well, he was right. I mean, she has been perfecting her risotto for about 45 years now, so she’s definitely got the upper hand when it comes to experience. And darn it, I honestly don’t know what she does, but her risotto is just plain awesome. Beyond good.

As any curious cook would, I’ve tried to learn as much as I can from her gazillion years of epicurean stylings in the twelve years that A and I have been married.  Thankfully, my suocera is not the type of person who hordes cooking secrets, or opinions (that one, less thankfully).

She loves it when we visit and I offer to help her out in the kitchen. She has three sons and a daughter, and only the youngest (a son, not A) ever showed any interest in cooking. My best times with her have been in the kitchen, chopping onions, working some dough, grating cheese. We’ll chat, or not, and we work with purpose. There are hungry mouths to be fed. Hungry, opinionated mouths.

I wanted to share some little tidbits that I’ve learned from A’s mom during our time in the cucina. Here they are in no particular order:

• A few good ingredients can make or break a dish. At the top of that list are home-made broth, grana padano cheese, and olive oil. NB: if it comes in a green can and is not sold in the refrigerator section, it should not be considered cheese.
• Good home-made broth is NOT made from chicken bones. It is made with a mixture of meat, namely hen and a fatty piece of beef. Since you can’t find hens in the U.S. for broth-making purposes, you can substitute chicken. With meat on the bones. Only the following ingredients should be used in making broth: water, chicken, beef, onions, carrots, celery, and salt. That’s it.
• You can make a three to five course meal every week for at least ten people without blogging about it.
• You can use seasonal, all-natural, local ingredients, and make a home-cooked meal for your family for you entire life without blogging about it.
• Even Italian mammas use bouillon, but only in extreme situations, and never as a substitute for home-made broth in a broth-based dish (especially soup and risotto).
• You don’t need a recipe to make bread. All you need is practice.
• You don’t have to make a big production about making risotto. You make the base flavor (mushroom, asparagus, whatever), add rice, add broth (only the good stuff–see above), and stir. Yes, you can put a lid on risotto as you’re cooking it. No, you don’t have to stir it for 30 minutes straight. Yes, it can be a quick weeknight meal.
• Quick-cooking polenta is a sad substitute for the stuff that takes an hour to cook.
• Every special occasion is made even more special with a dish involving fresh-made pasta.
• Don’t you dare make fresh pasta with store-bought eggs. Find a farm, find a friend who has chickens, anything. Just don’t use store-bought eggs to make pasta.
• Sitting down together to eat as a family is pretty much the best thing you can do.
• Every meal should end with a piece of cheese and fruit.

If you live in the Bay Area, have lived in the Bay Area, or even just visited the Bay Area, you know how summer is here: nonexistent. Cold, foggy, drizzly, with an off-chance of a rare beautiful day (i.e. over 75 degrees) every once in a while.

When A and I lived in Italy (hot, humid summers with bugs as big as fists), coming to California to visit every summer was an incredible treat. We would get our three-week fix of cold weather, sleep with a down comforter in the middle of August, and then fly home to appreciate heat and humidity (aka being able to wear a tank top in the evening).

One thing we can still appreciate though, is the bounty of summer fruits and veggies. It’s good being here this time of year. This is a random list of yumminess I wanted to share…for no reason other than I’ve been thinking about all of these foods a lot.

• roasted beets with goat cheese
• corn, in any form (but heavenly mixed with jicama, avocado, mango, and a little bit of oil & lime juice)
• avocado, in any form (see above)
• strawberries
• apricots
• nectarines
• tomatoes
• tomatoes
• tomatoes
• tomatoes

About six weeks ago, I got my issue of Bon Appetit. It was the Italy issue and I was uber excited about it. Then I actually read the issue, and it just irked me so much that I had to write a letter to the newly appointed editor, Adam Rapaport. Of course I never heard back from BA, but I had spend too much time on the letter to let my rant go to waste – I must share it with the world! And maybe – just maybe – Mr. Rapaport will see it sooner or later. So here it is in its entirety:

Dear Mr. Rapoport,

Full disclsoure: I am one of the thousands of Bon Appetit subscribers who received their subscription after Gourmet closed, and continued subscribing because few other magazines on the market seemed as good as BA (and none lived up to Gourmet).

I enjoyed the recipes and stories, although I always found myself going back to old Gourmet recipes. I was looking forward to the much-hyped transformation of the magazine, and eagerly awaited the May issue.

Sadly, I think I may let the subscription run its course and not renew. The only thought looping through my head as I read through the issue was, “Why are they TRYING so hard?” It seems as though the magazine has been taken over by 25-35 year old hipsters, although that is exactly what the magazine would make us believe has not happened. Just the number of references to hipsters, know-it-all foodie friends, and tattooed baristas makes me think that the magazine is now run by hipsters, know-it-all foodie friends, and tattooed former baristas (all fully aware that they are these things, and adamant about denying it).

Perhaps I’m taking it too much to heart because this was the Italy issue. Another full disclosure: I’m married to an Italian and lived in that wonderful country for seven years. This full immersion into the Italian culture and cuisine has made me wary of Americans trying to stamp their “expertise” onto Italian traditions. I would LOVE to meet any Italian who goes through your ludicrous method of making coffee with the moka coffee pot, especially the last step which calls for wrapping a cold, wet towel around the pot “to stop the extraction.” As my husband pointed out, another way to do this is to pour the coffee and drink it. Pretty simple.

Also, for a magazine which seems to extol the authenticity that still permeates Italian cuisine (to quote page 107, “You can get a rich, crema-topped espresso just about anywhere. And it doesn’t come with a lecture from some tattooed, fedora-wearing barista.”), it’s pretty ironic that the “Moka Pot Manual” was written not by an Italian, but a New York City barista, perhaps one with tattoos (or sporting a fedora).

Or even worse: Maybe the irony was intended, fully putting the hipster stench on Bon Appetit forever.

I know this email will never get a response, but I just feel better knowing that I sent it.