Mother has always been an innovative and creative cook. As long as the recipe did not contain mollusks, cilantro, or hot spices, she would enthusiastically gather the necessary ingredients, substitute the missing ones if needed, and reproduce the dish she had seen on TV or in one of the many international magazines she read. This was not always easy to accomplish. In the late sixties and seventies, the only seasonings she had on hand were salt, pepper, and paprika. Parsley was used as a garnish, and she had to win the hearts of the neighborhood reigning queens to introduce the beloved dill of her Austro-Hungarian heritage.
Dinner parties at our house were much-anticipated events. The dining-room table would be immaculately set with a starched white tablecloth, white-and-blue patterned plates, crystal glasses, and gold-plated flatware. Friends would gather around the appetizer platters, holding a tumbler of whiskey or a glass of Campari, excitedly chattering, taunted by the aroma wafting from the kitchen. With Sinatra or Nat King Cole playing in the background, Mother would emerge from the kitchen flushed from her special hostess anxiety syndrome, bringing the main dish out to the table, throwing witty repartees without missing a beat. A fresh-water bass caught the day before would end up stuffed and baked on top of flavorful rice pilav, infused with white wine and rosemary. A couple of rabbits Father had brought from his hunting expedition would end up as a robust goulash accompanied by bread dumplings. In the spring, the centerpiece would be a lamb roasted with garlic and yogurt in the Albanian style. In November, when the pigs were butchered for the winter, she would serve a hearty pork offal stew with steaming boiled potatoes.
I enjoyed her imaginative approach to cooking. Every delectable bite left her signature on my culinary experience. I admired her creativity and confidence to tackle seemingly impossible tasks. But it was not the roasted pheasant or perfectly round, symmetrical Scottish eggs that pull me back to my childhood. It’s pasta.
Eating meat at dinner was a status symbol in 1970s Yugoslavia, a way to prove that life was getting better following the decades of suffering and starving during the war and right after it. We partook of the abundant quantities of meat protein, but two or three days a week, the dinners were meatless. And those days, I was the happiest. I still dream of Mother’s homemade tagliatelle with sauteed cabbage and lots of black pepper, small shells tossed with caramelized onions and potatoes, fresh ravioli filled with jam, and macaroni with cheese.
I can sing the odes to macaroni and cheese. It is not the American version with cheese sauce and elbow pasta. Mother usually cooked penne or rigatoni, a robust pasta able to stand up to crumbled fresh farmers cheese and “kajmak”*, which would melt and lend the noodles a buttery sheen. I could never have enough. And if there was a surplus of noodles, we had a dessert coming: warm pasta with ground walnuts and sugar.
While Father swore that he enjoyed meat-free meals, macaroni and cheese somehow always happened when he was away on an emergency surgery or on call in the hospital. His absence from the kitchen table allowed us a bit more freedom. We still had to keep our shoulders up and our elbows off, but we could talk, laugh, tease each other, and ignore the principle of silence during meals. We were raised in a household that applied strict rules on behavior, and the odd days we were allowed to skirt around them were cherished. My emotional connection to macaroni and cheese certainly reaches to those moments when we were relaxed and unbound in our youthful enthusiasm.
Since then, the culinary world exploded, and different ethnic cuisines started to warm their way around the globe, reaching even the smaller towns that have been stubbornly rejecting change for decades. Mother has expanded her pasta repertoire and mastered lasagna, spaghetti Bolognese, and fettuccine Alfredo (this one surprised me, for I thought she would be eternally traumatized by her first encounter with the dish, watching in horror as my first husband, the chef, flung a flaccid noodle against her pristine stove backdrop to check for readiness). We exchange recipes and tips, give each other advice on techniques we learned the hard way, and analyze the results of each new approach we try. Next time I go back home, I plan on introducing her to the delicately balanced flavors of Thai pasta and Vietnamese phở. She will dissect every element, she will scrutinize my every movement, she will act skeptical about the integrity of the dish. But in the end, I know that she will clear a little patch of the herb garden for a Thai basil seedling.
Our little circle at I Heart Cooking Clubs is featuring Giada De Laurentiis, and the theme for this week was “Kid at Heart”. The challenge was to find a recipe of Giada’s that takes us back to our childhood. I immediately thought of Serbian macaroni and cheese. I could not expect Giada to publish Mother’s recipe, and settled for pasta of any kind.
The Persian store in our neighborhood had gorgeous, firm, shiny eggplants on sale (4 for $1.00) and I could not resist. I found a recipe for Rigatoni with Eggplant Puree on Food Network and threw myself into preparing the meal, emulating Mother’s flair and confidence. I peeled and cubed two eggplants, put them into a bowl with cherry tomatoes, garlic, olive oil, red pepper flakes, salt, and pepper. After stirring gently, I slid the vegetables onto a baking sheet and roasted them until they yielded to my touch. I would have stopped there, seduced by the aroma emanating from the oven. But the older Beastie detests the idea of eggplants, and the younger Beastie does not like the texture of nuts in her food. I pureed the vegetables and ground the toasted nuts, adding the pasta water and lemon juice.
It was not the prettiest pasta dish I have ever served. The Beasties and their friend who was spending the night had seconds (no, I have not divulged the secret ingredient), and I received a lot of thank you kisses afterwards. It was not Mother’s macaroni and cheese, but it was satisfying, comforting, and warm, simple to prepare, and rewarding in its robust flavors. We laughed, talked over each other, teased one another and enjoyed the moment, relaxed and happy. And just for a second, I felt the stirring of memories from another kitchen table in the faraway land of my childhood.
*Kajmak is the fat that gathers on the surface of the slowly heated fresh, unpasteurized and unhomogenized milk; it’s carefully collected with a slotted spoon and salted lightly. Each day another layer is added, depending on the quantity of milk. Kajmak can be consumed immediately, still containing the sweetness of the milk, or aged, when it becomes tangy and sharper. It is used as a spread on hot, fresh bread, an ingredient for the phyllo dough cheese pies, or an addition to sauces, to make them creamier and richer.
RIGATONI WITH EGGPLANT PUREE (Giada De Laurentiis, Foodnetwork. com)
Ingredients:
- 1 medium eggplant, cut into 1-inch cubes
- 1 pint cherry tomatoes
- 3 cloves garlic, whole
- 3 tablespoons olive oil
- 1 teaspoon salt
- 1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
- 1 teaspoon red pepper flakes
- 1/4 cup toasted pine nuts
- 1 pound rigatoni pasta (egg-free pasta is available for Eastern Orthodox fast)
- 1/4 cup torn fresh mint leaves
- 3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
- 1/2 cup grated Parmesan (skip if you are following eastern Orthodox fast or a vegan diet)
Directions:
Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper.
In a large bowl combine the eggplant, cherry tomatoes, garlic, olive oil, salt, pepper, and red pepper flakes. Spread the vegetables out in an even layer on the baking sheet. Roast in the oven until the vegetables are tender and the eggplant is golden, about 35 minutes.
While the vegetables are roasting, place the pine nuts in a small baking dish. Place in the oven on the rack below the vegetables. Roast until golden, about 8 minutes. Remove from the oven and reserve (I toasted mine in a small, dry skillet on the stove, shaking it every now and then, for 4-5 minutes).
Meanwhile, bring a large pot of salted water to a boil over high heat. Add the pasta and cook until tender but still firm to the bite, stirring occasionally, about 8 to 10 minutes. Drain pasta into a large bowl and reserve 1 1/2 cups of the cooking liquid. Transfer the roasted vegetables to a food processor. Add the torn mint leaves and extra-virgin olive oil. Puree the vegetables.
Transfer the pureed vegetables to the bowl with the pasta and add the Parmesan. Stir to combine, adding the pasta cooking liquid 1/2 cup at a time until the pasta is saucy. Sprinkle the pine nuts over the top (I ground mine and mixed them into the sauce) and serve.
This pasta is going to be perfect for Hearth and Soul blog event over at Alex’s A Moderate Life.
You are such a wonderful storyteller. I love reading your posts.
Ditto, Serene – Lana, you are a wonderful storyteller, and I almost feel like one of your family when I read your stories. Even though we didn’t have a lot of pasta when I was growing up, something about it still stirs for me memories of home and family – I think, it’s just such comfort food, free of pretentiousness, that reminds us of family dinners. I love any kind of eggplant sauce with pasta – definitely one of my favourites.
Sue
[...] This post was mentioned on Twitter by William Cooks and Cooking Update, Serene. Serene said: Another great post from @bibberche: https://bibberche.com/2010/11/i-heart-cooking-clubs-giada-rigatoni-with-eggplant-puree [...]
I really enjoyed your post. What lovely memories! And the rigatoni with eggplant sounds delicious.
This made me hungry just reading the recipe, it looks delicious.
Well, I definitely think it looks tasty. Pasta is never quite the prettiest belle at the ball, but it’s always Miss Congeniality…YUM! So good for the soul, Lana! My husband grew up loving that little skin that formed on the top of the milk. His mom would scoop it off and put it on toast for his breakfast! Great post and thanks so much for sharing it with both the hearth and soul hop and IHCC this week
I really enjoyed your post. I didn’t want it to end, I could have just kept on reading. Your recipe looks great and thank you for sharing.
Miz Helen
Hello Lana my love! What a terrific story! I too love my English mother’s noodles and cheese far more than the american version! I also adored my mother’s dinner parties. It really is a lost art and I should take it up again with my friends around here, though sadly most of my friends live far away!
I wanted to ask you a question about the Kajmak? I have some raw milk sitting on the counter to clabber so I can harvest the whey and there is a thick yellow layer on top of the cream. Could that be used in the same way? I loved your description and it sounds delicious! Thanks so much for sharing on the hearth and soul hop this week. I too LOVE the power of the puree to make kids eat their veggies! We are both so sneaky! Much love! alex@amoderatelife
@Serene, you are so sweet:) Thanks for the encouragement!
@Sue, I might switch back to my British English spelling thanks to you! I miss the “centre” and “favourite” and “neighbour”:) I love eggplant, too, but passing it off to the kids is another story. And they would eat offal any day!
@April, thanks for visiting! I love your blog! And I am looking forward to trying your Shepard’s Pie (meat and potatoes seem so right at this time of year).
@Aurelia, thanks for stopping by!
@Heather, your husband knows what’s good for him:) We had it in our cafe latte in the morning, or spread on a piece of bread, with a bit of salt.
As for pasta, i could live of its various incarnations – no meat required:)
@Miz Helen, you touched me:) It feels so good to transport someone I don’t even know into my world:)
Loved!
You are a beautiful writer – thank you for sharing your talents, both for food, photography, and the written word here.
One line stood out for me: “I got a job in his restaurant because I was pretty.”
Isn’t it sad that such things still take precedence as though they matter?
[...] Lana of Bibberche has fond memories of her mother’s excellent dinner parties [...]
“Nostalgiada” I love it!
It looks like a beautiful pasta dish to me. 
Love the eggplant puree.
Great dish! I love eggplant, it is such a magical ingredient.
@Lindsey, thank you! I am not sure about the talent for photography, but I am working on it:) And yes, it is amazing that looks would get you much more than your other qualities.
@Deb, yes, the title is funny, he, he. And the pasta was delicious – kids ate the eggplant, which is a bonus!
@Natashya, I love eggplants. I just need to convince my kids to give them a chance:)
[...] OMG, I cannot believe that I am actually a bit early! What a relief! Now I can relax and read the recipes little by little. And I do not have to work tomorrow! xoxoxo, Lana Lana recently posted..Nostalgiada [...]
I love this story– what a window into a very different, and yet completely recognizable world. Did you ever get to introduce your mom to pho? Did she like it?