Copyright 2015 by Alissandra Maffucci
Photographs copyright 2015 by Evan Sung
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Clarkson Potter/Publishers, an imprint of the Crown Publishing Group, a division of Random House LLC, a Penguin Random House Company, New York.
www.crownpublishing.com
www.clarksonpotter.com
CLARKSON POTTER is a trademark and POTTER with colophon is a registered trademark of Random House LLC.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Maffucci, Ali.
Inspiralized: turn vegetables into healthy, creative, satisfying meals / Ali Maffucci ; photographs by Evan Sung.First edition.
1. Cooking (Vegetables) 2. Vegetable carving. 3. Grinding machines. I. Title.
TX801.M246 2015
641.65dc23 2014041703
ISBN 978-0-8041-8683-4
Ebook ISBN 978-0-8041-8684-1
Cover design by La Tricia Watford
Cover photo by Evan Sung
Photo on : courtesy of the author
Photo on : Nadya Furnari Photography
Photos : Unique Lapin Photography
v3.1
Life is a combination of magic and pasta.
FEDERICO FELLINI
Some are born with silver spoons in their mouths, some with plastic ones, and some with none. All I know is that my spoon was definitely dripping with tomato-basil sauce.
This book is dedicated to my Italian-American grandparents, who brought love and joy into our family through food. Thank you for making cooking and, most of all, eating so much fun.
Special dedication to:
Mom , for your undying support, love, and faith in me.
Dad , for teaching me to work hard for what I want.
Lu , for inspiring me to start Inspiralized and being my daily taste tester. I love you.
My Grandmother Ida , for giving me my thirst for knowledge.
My Inspiralized readers: Thanks to your loyal support and following, this cookbook was made possible.
And to all lovers of pasta and carbs. Salute!
CONTENTS
INTRODUCTION
If I had a dollar for every time my grandparents said, Were on a dietwere giving up pasta, wine, and cheese, I wouldnt be here writing this book. Id be living on an island with my riches.
Sunday-night dinners at the home of my fathers parents were always quite the scene. My sweet grandmothera woman who proudly donned her Sunday best for Mass and washed my mouth out with soap for saying pee instead of tinklewould be burning something in the oven and scuffling about the kitchen with a spoon in her hand, dripping sauce on the tiled floors. But despite the chaos, Pops, with his big gold pinky ring, strong nose, and all-consuming love of the motherland, always managed to prepare a flawless meatball or the perfect pesto.
Cooking was always the main event. The party didnt start when everyone arrived for dinner; it started when the first glug of olive oil hit the pan, signaling the beginning of a beautiful, delicious Italian meal. We were all pulled in not only by the smell of a fresh marinara simmering but also by the clinks of wineglasses filled with full-bodied reds and sounds of Popss favorite Frank Sinatra album (if you could hear the songs over his own renditions). The sight of Pops twirling my grandmother around to Thats Amore is unforgettable.
Eating was another spectacle. My father would fight anyone for the last piece of bread to dip in the sauce left on his plateGod forbid we didnt savor every last drop. The wine flowed, and my grandmother constantly got up to bring something else to the table, whether olive oil, more bread, or freshly grated Parmesan. Despite conversations that could be either negative or positive, the mood was always jovial, simply because we were eating . We gorged ourselves on pasta, meats, wine, and cheese nearly to the point of discomfortyet we never missed dessert. And that was always an assortment of Italian pastries from a molto bene bakerybiscotti, sfogliatelle, pignoli. My personal favorite was cannoli and Sambuca, the little espresso beans floating in that sweet anise-flavored liquor paired with decadent ricotta-filled pastry. By the time we left my grandparents we had eaten our weight in carbohydrates, but we were happy. My grandmother and Pops would walk us out the front door and wait to wave good-bye as we drove out the driveway. Everyone was already excited for the next Sunday.
When I had the opportunity to spend a college semester studying abroad, I of course went to Italy. I treated every day as if it were Sunday night dinner at my grandparents. I devoured pizzas, polished off aromatic Chiantis, ripped through caprese salads, slurped up giant portions of pasta bolognese, and dipped fresh semolina bread into whatever I could get my hands on. I might as well have just slurped olive oil straight from the bottle. When I returned home, I had to face the consequences of my indulgences: high numbers on the scale. I had put on an embarassing 20 pounds during my indulgent European semester, bringing my grand total weight gain to 50 pounds since freshman year. When I saw that number, I knew something had to change.
I gave myself some leniency, as I was suffering withdrawal from la dolce vita , after all. Then my friend Sarah gave me a book onare you sitting down?veganism. Despite fear of a painful good-bye to sausage, mozzarella, thick pestos, meatballs, and white pastas and breads, I was quickly sold on the promises of slender arms and skinny thighs. In August 2008, I began a two-year stint as a vegan and it worked: I lost 60 pounds and obtained the arms and thighs of my dreams. But, there was one big problem: Sunday night dinners at my grandparents were differentand not in a good way. Telling my family I was a vegan was like telling them I was moving to the most desolate corner of the world. Whole-grain pasta and multigrain bread just werent part of Popss vocabulary. Luckily, my grandparents unconditional love prevailed, and they made extra dishes for me: more vegetables, whole wheat spaghetti, and pasta fagioli. It just wasnt the same, though.
As a result of adopting veganism, I learned how to cook creatively and healthfully, discovered new types of food, and became empowered by my knowledge of fresh, clean eating and its immense health benefits. As an Italian-American and lover of pastas and savory foods, I still struggled with portion controluntil my mother introduced me to the spiralizer. After that, my life changed.
So, how did it all start?
My mother is a Type 1 diabetic. This type of diabetes, which often begins in childhood, is known as insulin-dependent diabetes because the pancreas produces little or no insulin, a hormone that normally converts glucose (sugar) into energy. If not managed properly, this chronic diabetes can cause serious health problems, such as kidney failure, blindness, nerve damage, fatal heart disease, and stroke. Although there are many causes for diabetes, my mother initially developed gestational diabetes, becoming diabetic while pregnant. In 2012, when I was living in Hoboken, New Jersey, she started seeing a health coach who suggested she try raw veganism, a diet that excludes not only all animal products but also foods cooked above a temperature of about 118F.