This cookbook is dedicated to my Mom, Josh, and hungry bad-girls everywhere.
Copyright 2009 by B360 Media, Inc.
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skirt! is an imprint of The Globe Pequot Press.
skirt! is a registered trademark of Morris Publishing Group, LLC, and is used with express permission.
Due to limitations of space, additional art credits appear on pp. 2067 and constitute an extension of this page.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available on file.
ISBN 978-1-59921-441-2
Printed in the United States of America
10987654321
Disclaimer: The information in this book is true and complete to the best of our knowledge. All recommendations are made without guarantee on the part of the author or publisher. The author and publisher disclaim any liability in connection with the use of this information. The characters in this book are fictional. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is strictly coincidental.
My uncle Pashqua used to say, Any occasion is a good occasion for a meal. No one was ever more right or sweaty.
As an Italian, I know that a good meal isnt reserved for just Hallmark holidays, pretentious dinner parties, or some other example because comedy works best in threes. Oh no! Every day theres a good reason to *shkoff! From One-Night-Stand Breakfasts to Dump Em Desserts, this cookbook focuses on the other occasionsthe daily dish thats relevant to a new generation who simply dont give a flying fuck about stuffing a turkey in the name of pillaging.
And when these overlooked occasions arise, youve got to celebrate, devise, deal. And what better way to deal, than to stuff your face like a savage? Food brings your friends, family, and thighs closer together. It can soften a blow, get you your way, or channel your rage. Food gives us a reason to wake up in the morning (and eat breakfast), visit our grandparents, stay in crappy relationships! And thats what this cookbook explores at its very core: the connection between food, circumstance, and greased-up chiseled man babes What was my point again?
Oh yeah Bitchin Kitchen! But it goes even deeper than that! Its about me, I mean us. Its about Net Genners, Punk-Italian Fusion, and Angry Squirrels. Its about kicking polite pastel lifestyles in the ass, rocking your kitchen, and letting the boys clean up the mess.
I know what youre thinking: Is that my cell phone ringing? Of course it is! But I dont care, because this is a righteous introduction. So sit back, take off at least one of your socks, and get ready to get your hands dirty, because youre going to shkoff like youve never shkoffed before! (Or you can always just look at the pretty pictures. Come on, everybody likes pictures.)
*NOTE:
Whenever you see an asterisk, it means you can check the Glossary for a definition of this sayingthat s if youre not already familiar with Italian-American slang, *capisce?
When I was growing up I was always jealous of my moms prowess in the kitchen: the way shed be able to whack me with a slipper as she answered the phone, all the while pouring a steady stream of salt into the pasta water, just feeling the perfect amount. It was witchcraft! She never had a measuring cup; I never saw her meticulously quantify of a teaspoon of anything. Ever. Around the house there were no written recipes, nor at my *N onnas, or at her N onnas. If you were to ask my mother how much salt goes into a quart of water, shed tell you, annoyed: *Ma, what do I know?! You look, you feel, you taste. And that was that. You look, you feel, you taste.
I was so aggravated by this as a teen that I rebelled against the *Casalinga style of Italian cooking, snatching up any recipe that had irrefutable amounts, bullet points, friggin diagrams! And with this arsenal of tangible instructions in hand, I set out to vengefully make the biggest, best meal anyone had ever tasted. Oh, and if someone were to ask me how much salt I used, Id cordially reply: Why, 1.78 teaspoons, Madame But no one ever asked, because all those meals sucked. They sucked hard, and sucked for years. They never came together. Maybe I was following the wrong recipes, or maybe it takes more than a set of measuring spoons to make a good meal. Maybe it is witchcraft.
Is the Hand that Rules the World
Or knowing your ingredients. And how do you get to know your ingredients? Well, you look, you feel, you taste. By trial and error, you realize that a whole head of garlic for 1 cup of tomato puree is a bit much. You make a mental note. And as you sit there, defiantly shkoffing a plate of nasty pasta, hoping that the next forkful will miraculously reveal itself as delicious, getting progressively more full, and progressively more aware of how much fucking garlic is in this godforsaken sauce, you learn. It haunts you, from the mess in the kitchen to the hole in your wallet to the indigestion. Some of us give up at this point, figure well never learn to cook and order out for the rest of our days.
But some of us dont. Some of us rise up to the challenge because food is too important. It was the first thing that ever gave you comfort, before sex, drugs, or rock and roll. Because the pleasure you get from eating or watching someone succumb to your culinary genius is too primal, too satisfying, too powerful to ever not hold in the crook of your wooden spoon.
Its witchcraft baby.
We did own The Good Housekeeping Illustrated Cookbook, which was used once for a fashionably bland curry in the mid-80s. It then got buried in the Wedding/Communion/Confirmation video drawer and was never seen again.
ORGANIC INGREDIENTS
Always try to get your hands on organic-certified ingredients. Dont get me wrong, this isnt a hippie cookbook, but Im a firm believer that you shouldnt put anything in your mouth thats chock-full of sketchy hormones, antibiotics, or chemicals (past the age of 19.) Almost all cities have a farmers market and this is where the best ingredients are found. But beware, just because youre at the farmers market doesnt mean everything is organic, so if youre not sure, ask.
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