Accidents will happen - and I'm glad of that

There are times when something happens to me in the kitchen that makes me think that Nana is really there, protecting me, guiding me, loving me. Or SOMETHING or SOMEONE is. I've mentioned that Nana is very busy with all of her grandchildren and she can't be everywhere, but lately I have felt her presence very strongly. And my cooking has been better for it.

So, here's the accident. The first one. There is a variety of beet known as the chioggia. If you cut open a raw chioggia beet, you will see concentric rings of white and red. GORGEOUS. Cook the chioggias, and the rings disappear. At least they always had for me . Well, Nevia asked me one day how to cook them and keep the ring. I told her it wasn't possible, and she told me that she had eaten them, at Gramercy Tavern, and the ring formation had held. NOW I was intrigued. Nevia promised to check, and she did. She came back to me and told me that the secret was long, slow cooking at low temperatures. This is frequently the secret for delicious, beautiful food. Well, with no other information than that, I got to work. I cooked up a batch of her chioggias, at 300 degrees, for an hour. I DID get a ring pattern, just not as pronounced as I wanted to . I talked it over with Nevia, and she told me that the temperature was still too high: that I should go down to 200 degrees and cook them longer.

Well, I didn't have chioggias this weekend, but I had golden beets. And I decided to do them that way. I put a pot of beets, in about an inch of water, in the oven, covered with foil, at 200. Then I foolishly (and perhaps at the same time, NOT foolishly), did not set the timer. And I literally forgot about them. That was at 3 o'clock.

At about 8:30 in the evening, in the middle of dinner, I started musing about a dish that my friend David had asked me about: seared foie gras with roasted beets. THEN I remembered the beets. They were still in the oven, cooking away. Well, if your oven is at 200, there isn't much to worry about, because the water will not boil off. I WAS concerned however, that I would have mush when we got home.

INSTEAD, I had the silkiest, softest, easiest to peel beets I have ever made. They are like velvet. I guess it was almost like a "sous vide" technique. They are glorious little golden mouthfuls that I am delighted to have. And this is how I will cook beets from now on. So, thank you Nevia, thank you protective spirits, thank you Gramercy Tavern.

And now, let's turn to an accident that is fortuitous for me, but it burns me up. When I saw Nevia today, to bring her some lunch, she pointed to a huge container of peppers, which she couldn' t, or more to the point, wouldn't, sell, because of what could only be called cosmetic defects. Yes, one or two of the peppers had a minor rot spot, and one mushed in my hand. But I found five pounds of peppers - and could have taken more - that were more than acceptable. Bright, vibrant colors, beautiful flavor.

Now, Nevia is giving them to me for free, for many reasons. But one of them is that places like the Village Nursing Home, which stands right behind Nevia's stand, cannot take them, because of government regulations. They cannot take the food, because Nevia is not on an approved vending list.

HUH????? You have people for whom nourishment is a vital issue, and you can't take good, fresh food because a hardworking farmer hasn't filled out paperwork? You have GOT to be kidding. I wish I were. But it's a fact. And its sad. it is very, VERY sad. This is an issue that MUST be redressed, and Annalena will be on her high horse about this shortly. Rest assured, when Annalena is pissed, she will bring in the other force of nature, Laura M, and we WILL fix this.

But what to do with those peppers? Well, when I was young, we ate peppers a LOT. I think they were cheaper then then they are now, and I think Nana liked them. They were bulky, filling, and they went with everything. We ate them with eggs, with veal, with sausage, in sauce, everywhere. Mostly green ones, occasionally red ones. We did not have the vibrant colored ones we have now, but we did just fine. And Nana used to call what she did "pepperool stew." Later, I learned that this was pepperonata, and there are variations of it, all over Italy.

I'm going to give you mine. I think it's really mighty tasty, but if you grew up italian, you probably have a different variation, and I wanna hear about it. And if you change it, I wanna know about it.

I started with 2.5 pounds of mixed sweet peppers. This is a "home dish," so cutting them into different sized pieces is fine, and indeed, given the different forms that peppers take, is a requirement. Just get them sliced, and get as many of the seeds out as you can, without going crazy. Put them aside, and slice up two nice sized onions. I like to use rings in this dish, because the peppers are chunky. Then get garlic. LOTS Of it. I used ten cloves in this dish, and if I were eating it all myself, I would have put in more. Finally, some fresh herbs. I had oregano, and basil in the fridge, and settled on basil. I almost always do with peppers. And, finally, I had a handful of overripe tomatoes, and one of cherry tomatoes. I cut these up and now, we're ready to cook.

In a big pot, put down about a quarter inch of good olive oil, and heat it up. At medium heat, add the onions, and let them cook away for about three minutes, with a half teaspoon or so of salt. Stir them, and then add the peppers, the basil and the garlic cloves. What I do is put down a layer of peppers, and then the garlic and basil, and then the rest of the peppers. Now I add a good half teaspoon of salt. I cover the pot, lower the heat, and let it stew for ten minutes. Peppers have a lot of water in them, and they will cook out, and the peppers will get nice and soft. Then, after ten minutes, I added the tomatoes, and covered the pot again, for another ten minutes. Some of the tomatoes dissolved into sauce, others did not, and that is just fine. When all was done, I took out any basil stems on which the leaves had dissolved, but otherwise, left the dish alone.

I wound up with six cups of a wonderful, pepper stew, which I can put on polenta, but which I think I will combine with some left over mushrooms, as part of "una cena vegetariana," or a vegetarian dinner. You could mix these peppers with just about anything.

And as I think about this dish, and its origins, and my friends, I am reminded of my dear friend Bertino, who has probably made this, in different variations, over the course of his life. So, Bertino caro, this one is for you. Come on by and we'll make the pepperools again. If you and I are cooking it for ourselves, we'll get some bread, and we'll add some pepperoncini to it, break out the wine, the brandied cherries, and we'll cackle like our old aunties, huh? And if we are around people, well, we'll behave a bit more, but when we're in the kitchen, that's when we'll let down our collective hair.

I'll be thinking of you when we eat this. Perhaps even a brindisi to the bud in Brooklyn