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It is I, You, He, She It

When I was at Classical High, Miss MacDonald taught me the proper, or standard, English:
It is I
It is you
It is he, she it.
It is we
It is you
It is they.
The first person singular pronoun is “I” when it’s a subject and “me” when it’s an object. So why so much confusion these days?
I hear it at a golf match when I ask who is “away” and first to putt. The common answer I hear is “Me.” But no one would say, “Me am away.”
The proper use of “me ‘dictates the following:
“You will play the match with Mike and me, not Mike and I. In this case, just remove Jim if you might be confused.
It could not be “You can play the match with “I.”
Today I am still correct to say “It is “I” but the tide is turning to the “me’s”. It is me.
Now, how do I answer the phone?
Hi, is Ed there?
Do I respond “It is I?” Or, “It is me.” How about ….”Speaking.” Whew, that solves that problem with little embarrassment.
Dear Miss MacDonald, I apologize. Please don’t give me another bad mark.
Me am still recovering from my dangled participle.

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To my subscribers on
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My apology. I will not be sending any blogs because WordPress has not been able to update my data base. Until that point, I will be “off the blogair.” My apology

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Minna’s Favorite Recipes

APPLE DATE BARS

This family favorite recipe was submitted to “Cooking Light” magazine a few years ago by a reader who was trying to eat a little healthier without giving up all of her favorite things.  “Cooking Light” performed a make-over on the original recipe managing to trim almost 50 calories and 5 grams of fat per piece, still with very tasty results.

Minna

2 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon baking powder
½ teaspoon ground cinnamon
¼ teaspoon salt
2 cups sugar
7 tablespoons butter, softened
1 large egg
2 large egg whites
¼ cup applesauce
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 cup chopped pitted dates
1 teaspoon all-purpose flour
1½ cups chopped peeled Granny Smith apple (about 1 large)
1½ cups chopped Red Delicious apple (about 1 large)
½ teaspoon fresh lemon juice
2/3 cups chopped pecans
Cooking spray
1.  Preheat oven to 325 degrees.
 2.  Lightly spoon 2 cups flour into dry measuring cup; level with a knife.  Combine 2 cups flour, baking soda, baking powder, cinnamon, and salt in a large bowl; stir with a whisk.  Set aside.
3.  Place sugar and butter in a large bowl and beat with a mixer at high speed for 2 minutes or until light and fluffy.  Add egg and egg whites, beating well after each addition.  Stir in applesauce and vanilla.  Gradually add flour mixture to sugar mixture; stir just until combined to for a stiff batter.  Toss dates with 1 teaspoon flour.  Toss apples with lemon juice.  Add dates, apples and nuts to flour mixture, stirring just until combined.  Pour batter into a 13 x 9 inch baking dish coated with cooking spray.  Bake at 325 degrees for 1 hour and 5 minutes or until a wooden pick inserted in center comes out clean.  Cool completely on a wire rack. Makes 16 servings.

BUON APPETITO

We Called It Gravy Too*

I awoke to the aroma of a simmering sauce that filled the kitchen and crept into my room and onto my pillow. My ears were tuned to the sound of…plop blurp, plop, blurp. The aroma and the sounds were coming from the tomato sauce…gravy…cooking on the kitchen stove, and it meant it was Sunday.

Courtesy of Brian

I sat on the edge of the bed, wiped my eyes, got up and shuffled to the kitchen. Pajamas hanging below my feet, I stretched to tiptoes and peeked over the top of the large white pan on the stove over the small gas flame. The cover was tilted to allow the steamy aroma to escape. I used the “mopine” to lift the cover and look in, though already aware that it was the gravy for Sunday’s pasta. “Edward, what are you doing?”
The gravy was bubbling and popping, releasing with each burst a pocket of vapor with its smell into the atmosphere. Partly exposed meatballs floated along the surface like hot icebergs. A piece of bone, probably pork, was peeking through.
I shuffled like a hockey player to the pantry and the bag of Italian rolls fresh from Crugnale’s Bakery. Dad was reliable. The rolls were warm and soft. I removed one, ripped off a corner, held it between my thumb and two fingers, returned to the pan, swiped it through the gravy and held it up straight, gravy at the top.
Steam rose from the roll as the gravy cooled. To protect my fingers, I twirled the bread just ahead of the dripping lava, allowing the gravy to move to another side of the bread, cooling as it did so…a skill learned in the early years of the Italian family.  Though irresistible, it was still too hot for my sensitive, eager tongue. Test it. Touch it lightly with the tip of my tongue. OK. Ready. Cool enough.
The mass was formless, soft in my mouth, wet, moist, full bodied, and rich with the rage of tomato and the hint of garlic and basil… breaded gravy heaven. Time for another dunk, and another and another, piece after piece of bread ripped off, dunk after dunk made with the same caution, taste after taste completed for the thrill of Sunday’s gravy. “You’ll ruin your dinner”.
Now for the meatballs. I needed another corner of bread. There they were, floating; a deep brown color laced with red meant they were done. They had been fried before they were put into the gravy, and sometimes good to eat just after the frying, the simple flavors of garlic and olive oil enveloping the meatball and spilling into the bread. But today, I planned to rescue them from the gravy.
They were ripe. It seemed as if the meatball fit better into a split rather than cut bun. A spoon was sitting in the ladle next to the simmering pot. I lifted out a meatball, dropped it into the bun, and then ladled more of the deep red, shimmering, hot sauce. Blowing the steam away, I resisted the tendency to gulp it down. The meatball was firm, the bread soft and chewy, the gravy almost hot. Some of the gravy spilled out of the bun onto my pajama top. No matter.
I chewed slowly, rolled my tongue around and enjoyed the flavors of the heated, slightly crunchy meatball that married perfectly with the soggy bun and the gravy.
“You’ll ruin your dinner.” I smiled.

* From the book, “Growing Up Italian; Grandfather’s Fig Tree and Other Stories.”

Barking Cats Book Publishers

Mi Casa

Diane and I saw this wonderful ceramic sign on the door of a house in northern Italy and thought is so emblematic of the hospitality of the Italians.

“La casa mia e’ aperta al sole, agli amici e agli ospiti.”

“My home is open to the sun, to friends and to all guests.”

Minna’s Favorite Recipes

This recipe is from Giuliano Hazan, author of Every Night Italian and
The Classic Pasta Cookbook.  He is also the son of Italian Cookbook author and cooking teacher Marcella Hazan.   This is “the” classic Sicilian pasta sauce, combining eggplant and tomato, perfect for the garden abbondanza at this time of year.  It is quick – and delicious. 
Makes 7-8 1 cup servings (I know what your thinking – who eats just 1 cup of pasta?  This recipe is from a “Cooking Light” magazine)

2 tablespoons olive oil

Minna

3 garlic cloves, minced
1½ pounds coarsely chopped peeled tomato (about 2 cups)
1 teaspoon salt
1 pound eggplant, peeled and cut into ½ inch cubes (about 4 cups)
¼ cup thinly sliced fresh basil
6 ounces fresh mozzarella cheese, cut into ¼ inch cubes (about 1 cup)
1 pound spaghetti

1.  Place oil and garlic in a large skillet; cook over medium-high heat 30 seconds or until garlic begins to sizzle.  Add tomato and salt; cook 15 minutes or until liquid has evaporated. Add eggplant; cover, reduce heat, and cook 15 minutes or until eggplant is tender.  Stir in basil; set aside.

2.  Cook pasta in boiling water 9 minutes; drain.  Toss with sauce and cheese. Serve immediately.

BUON APPETITO