My
great-grandparents were immigrants from Italy and Scotland. They came to this country with little more
than the traditions and customs of their respective cultures and made do with
what they had in their new home. Back in
those days, there was no obsession with trends like there is today, especially
when it came to food. When it came to
food there was a few principles that were followed; they ate what they could
afford, cherished and appreciated that food because it was a blessing that
brought them back to their homeland (metaphorically, of course).
As a kid, I
remember eating Sunday meals by my Grandparents house and being served a dense
brick of yellow cement called Polenta.
While I ate this, I often wondered if there was a single classmate of
mine being served the same. Or how about
the wide selection of salt cured meats that I'll just classify into the
Sopressata category. My Grandfather's
name was Americo. He went by the
nickname of Kelly his whole life in an attempt to "Americanize"
himself to have a better chance of fitting in.
He used to tell me stories of how he would shop for his groceries. A few times a week, different vendors would
travel the streets of his neighborhood with horse-drawn wagons hawking their
goods. There was a cheese man, fruit and
vegetable guy, a butcher, and a guy who sold nothing but salt and blocks of
ice. My Grandparents were
trendsetters. They ate free-range,
organic and non-GMO meats, fruit, and vegetables. They drank raw milk and ate raw honey as a
special treat. They supported their
local economy because they only bought local.
As the trend
returns, some of us have been doing this for years and sit and watch the
marketing machines at work. They love
pitching us these ideas and love more when Polenta is an exotic new side dish
to a $27 entree at some three star restaurant in New York.
You and I
know better, we've been there before.
Nothing has changed for us.
Supporting your local businesses and farms make sense just like it did
for our Grandparents. They knew the
value to keeping that dollar among their neighbors and they loved knowing the
actual person who produced their food.
So, finally
allow me to get to my point here. The
other day, I found something really awesome.
It's called "beef loin flap meat". Aside from the horrendous name rolling off
your tongue like a brick covered in tar, this is a special cut of meat. I'm giving you time now to go buy some and
enjoy it before it follows the path of all the peasant cuts before it. Hanger steak, flatiron steak, skirt steak,
just to name a few, were considered poor, valueless cuts of beef that the
butcher would take home to his family instead of wasting. Slowly, over time, some clever restaurant
owners bought these cuts from their purveyors to save some money because
butchers would sell them for a fraction of the cost of more popular cuts. Over time, people started to realize how
exquisite and flavorful they really were.
I'll spare you the entire economic explanation here and just ask you to
look at the menu the next time you're out.
How does $22 sound for a five ounce piece of flatiron steak. Have I made my point?
I prepared
this beef loin flap three ways. I
grilled some over natural oak charcoal with some hickory smoked sea salt, lemon
juice, and olive oil. I braised some in
my slow cooker with a mixture of Asian seasonings and I smoked some over
hickory wood with a bit of sea salt.
It's just amazing. Tender like a
filet mignon with the fat and flavor of a rib eye or strip. Take my advice and enjoy it now at $5.99/
lb. Soon enough it will be on a menu
somewhere like all the other peasant food.
As I sit
here reflecting on my childhood, my family, and the way things are now, I am
almost embarrassed that my Grandparents felt so much pressure to fit in and
feared discrimination for who they were; that they would suppress their culture
to the point of changing names. Today,
everything is politically correct, trendy, soulless, and just generally full of
itself with pride for what they have "discovered" or
"created". The same people my
ancestors feared are the people pushing this "blended" trendy,
culture. Why do we need this? My relatives spoke Italian in the privacy of
their homes or in the company of those of like background. Now, every government sign has to be in
English and Spanish. Is this evolution,
or the erosion of individual culture and movement toward
"sameness"? A common question
throughout my life has been "Is Rocco your REAL name?". My legal name is Rocco, and my Grandfather's
name was Americo, not Kelly.
