Cookin' with the Mob

I have freely admitted that I am a huge Sopranos fan. Yes, it's gory at times, and immoral to the point of being ridiculous, but it's a fantastic -- and fascinating -- story that's astoundingly well-written. One of the highlights of this past weekend's trip was a visit to our friends' home. Jim is also a deeply committed fan, and Jim also has cable. So, in a very fitting way, Don and I finally saw the Sopranos "live," on HBO at 9:00 p.m. -- something we have never been able to do (since we do not have cable), always catching it at another time. As my friend Amy said, "... living in North Jersey, there’s no way you would not have heard about the ending before you saw it!" So for the very first time -- and our very last chance -- we sat with millions of other viewers and said farewell to one of the best stories of all time.

Tonight we are having dinner, mafia style. I did not plan this, our meal of pasta, based upon all of the mob-talk this weekend. Rather, we had so much meat in a two-day span that we must become vegetarians for a few days until our systems balance back to normal. So when I want amazing pasta, I reach for one of my favorite cookbooks: "The Mafia Cookbook," by Joseph "Joe Dogs" Iannuzzi. The subtitle reads: "With 37 new, foolproof recipes of Mob favorites to die for, as well as the full story of 'Cooking on the Lam,' in which Joe goes from 'mobster' to 'protected witness.'" The recipes are interspersed with hilarious and colorful mafia stories, so it's fun to read as well as cook. The page most dog-earred is for Joe Dog's Pasta Marinara.

We also have another fabulous cookbook straight from Artie Bucco: "The Sopranos Family Cookbook." OK -- it's a little corny (I mean, it's fiction, after all), and Artie had nothing to do with it (because, well -- Artie doesn't exist). It's written by someone named in a very un-Italian fashion, Allen Rucker (although the recipes are are by Michele Scicolone, so that works). Like Joe Dogs' book, this too mixes recipes with stories and characters, making them even more real than we would pretend to believe. We had a Marinara Cook-Off not too long ago, and while it was impossible for me to choose a favorite (as they were both so incredible and so different), Don voted for Mr. Dogs. Sorry, Artie (although "his" Chicken Francese is fantastically delicious).

So in honor of this sad ending to a great ten years of entertainment, we will be having Pasta Marinara. As Joe says in the anecdote preceding this recipe, "This is a classic. Just throw in a littl'a this, a littl'a that and you got a sauce to die for (you should pardon the expression)." And to pass along the good feelings, I'll pass along the recipe (with a little alteration of our own).

2 cloves garlic (or a little more, depending how much garlic you like -- I'm a crazy garlic lover), crushed and chopped fine
1/4 cup olive oil
1 (28 oz) can peeled tomatoes, chopped fine
1/2 tsp garlic powder
1/4 tsp dry mustard
1/4 tsp pepper
2 tbs crushed dried pepper
1 bouillon cube (chicken)

In a small saucepan saute garlic in olive oil until garlic dissolves (do not brown or burn).
Add chopped tomatoes, stir, and simmer for 5 minutes.
Add remaining ingredients, stir, and allow to simmer over low heat for 25-30 minutes.
Serve over your favorite pasta.

La cucina nostra. Buon appetito!