A Childhood Tale of Cheddar Cheese

The thread that has always woven our family story together was, and probably always will be, food. From the planning of meals, to grocery shopping, scoring a sale on escarole or broccoli rabe - this is where my mom and I meet. Growing up, food was our shared love language. Mealtime was common ground in a home where broken English was spoken and where my grandmother threw shoes at my grandfather in fiery frustration and anger when he was being stubborn or mean. But, mostly, we gathered in love. Even if food was something that made me feel shameful and embarrassed, it was the method of joy, source and maybe even our connection to God. We communed on all holidays, before or after church, to feast on 7 fishes or cook the sacrificial lamb. God, holiday’s and food. Maybe a book.

When my mother married my father she didn’t know how to cook and, so, my grandmother taught her. I learned from watching my mother and grandmother, continuing the tradition. Along the way, my mother built her cooking repertoire, picking up random recipes from tv and from friends. Stir fry’s and stews, roast beef cooked in beer, and split pea soup with ham were only a handful of the non-Italian fare. Some of the recipes were odd and delicious, estranged from Italian cooking; delighting my childhood palette with cheddar cheese. Yum, cheddar cheese, nice, fatty and American, instead of a world coated in mozzarella and parmigianno. Don’t get me wrong, mozzarella and parmigianno hold a place of reverence in my belly and heart, but we didn’t break into eating other cheeses at our table, at least not with any frequency. It was a home where veggies were bathed in olive oil, lemon, garlic and salt. Pasta was doused in marinara, pesto, garlic and oil, clams or bolognese. Kraft Mac and Cheese made an appearance once a year or was indulged in at my childhood friends’ homes where they ate boxes of the packaged stuff that was never brought into our house. As a kid I didn’t dislike this, I simply resolved that we were different. And, we were. I lived in a southern Italian immigrant home with 11 people, 2 of which were my grandparents who survived world wars, and the great depression. They ate beans, stale bread, pasta and vegetables. It actually tasted delicious, but the gooey orange color of a Kraft or Velveeta cheese bathed elbow (another shaped pasta we never ate) taunted me.

Mom worked at a bakery and her bosses wife, Antoinette, who loved to cook, would often share recipes with mom. Sometimes they were offbeat and one day she shared a recipe that contained, can you guess it? Gooey, orange cheese. God bless Antoinette for forcing the hand of my mother to make a pasta with cheddar cheese. However it was only a few days ago that I learned Antoinette was our cheddar cheese covered angel. When mom and I were on the phone the other day we were talking about what to make for dinner. Yet another call of comparing notes. I said to her, “That zucchini and cheddar pasta recipe was grandmas, right? “ Wherein my mother replied “You’re grandmother? You think she’d cook with cheddar cheese? No.” I wanted to believe my shoe throwing, free wheeling recipe inventor grandma passed this masterful meal on to mom. After all, one or two Friday nights a year (not during Lent) grandma would serve dinner to my brother and I, proudly exclaiming, “Kids, I make a you American food, see!” As she placed a Correll corningware dish full of Boars Head cocktail wieners and baked beans in front of us. On the side she ladled steaming hot cups of Lipton Soup, the one from the red cardboard box. Louie complained about her lentils and broccoli rabe with sausage, where as I could have eaten all of it until I rolled over in a full bellied ecstasy. So full I couldn’t hear my grandfathers words or commentary on my big appetite for a little human, my size reflective of over eating, and in those moments I could care less.

The balance of grandmas great depression Italian cuisine and moms eclectic recipes made for balance in our meals. It created my curious palette; a fundamental love and excitement for cooking through years of an emotional eating addiction and learning how to feed myself.

Alas, we arrive to today. A homage to cheddar, Antoinette and childhood. I believe this recipe floated in our home because it used long pasta, still contained a vegetable, and called for garlic and olive oil. A semi-Italian twist on a more gourmet veggie mac and cheese, it’s been a staple in my home and a wonderful way to use up excess zucchini which, somehow, I always seem to have plenty of. In my kitchen I like to kick this up with red pepper flakes to break through the sharp fattiness of the cheddar cheese. And, you may like that too. Maybe it is true that cheddar can make anything better? After a bowl of nostalgia, I must admit, I do always feel fantastic.

Fettuccine with Zucchini and Cheddar Cheese

Ingredients

4 small/medium zucchinis, cut in half lengthwise and sliced into half moons (slice 1/4 to a 1/2” thick so the zucchini does not get mushy while it’s sauteeing)

1 T. of extra virgin olive oil
1 T. of salted butter
3 cloves of garlic, minced or crushed

1/4 tsp. red pepper flakes (optional)

Salt
4-6 oz extra sharp cheddar cheese, grated

1 bag of Rana Fettuccine or 1/2 lb of spaghetti (I prefer fresh pasta, again, it’s a preference and I personally digest fresh pasta better than boxed or bagged)

Preparation

Bring a pot of salted water to a boil and keep covered

Add olive oil and butter to a large sautee pan and place over a medium flame, allowing the butter to melt completely
Add garlic and red pepper flakes
Add zucchini, sprinkle with a little salt, and sautee until golden brown - about 10-12 minutes. Watch not to burn the zucchini, you want to watch the flame and keep them moving so they do not stick to the pan but still get brown

Once cooked, remove the zucchini from the flame, cover and put aside
Add pasta to the boiled water and cook until aldente, following the package instructions

Reserve a cup of pasta water and drain pasta once done

Add pasta to the zucchini pan, return the flame to low, and add the cheddar cheese - gently mixing to coat the pasta and zucchini

Serve hot with additional red pepper flakes and enjoy