Marcella Hazan: The fragrant legacy
My friend Beth Adams of The Cassandra Pages wrote a tender, eloquent eulogy for Marcella Hazan, do read it here.
I have been thinking ever since of my discovery of her books in the very early '80s, but equally, of her spirit. Along with MFK Fisher, Marcella Hazan opened my eyes to the arts of the table, to the idea that a three-hour dinner was desirable.
It was from Hazan I learned to roast a chicken with two lemons in the cavity, something my Midwestern American mother, who had only ever packed the bird with bread dressing, found fascinating: a bit like cheating, but really good.
But my first thought, when I heard that she had died, was, That Tomato Sauce.
Its fragrance simmering the stove affected men more powerfully than my perfume (Opium, segueing as the decade wore on to Lancôme's Magie Noir.) I served it with real shredded Parmesan (I was just learning about that, too—no more powdery, tasteless wax in a shaker can) and freshly-baked foccacia.
As the years passed, I sometimes thought about cutting back on the butter, but why? Marcella's sauce is an alchemic combination that five-alarms the brain's pleasure center, including that of the cook's, because it returns so much goodness for so little work.
Adam Roberts, who writes the ebullient food blog, The Amateur Gourmet, has re-published the recipe, with photos and his own heartfelt homage, here.
As Roberts says, "The recipes we leave behind are powerful things."
If you could be remembered for one stellar dish, what might it be?
I have been thinking ever since of my discovery of her books in the very early '80s, but equally, of her spirit. Along with MFK Fisher, Marcella Hazan opened my eyes to the arts of the table, to the idea that a three-hour dinner was desirable.
It was from Hazan I learned to roast a chicken with two lemons in the cavity, something my Midwestern American mother, who had only ever packed the bird with bread dressing, found fascinating: a bit like cheating, but really good.
But my first thought, when I heard that she had died, was, That Tomato Sauce.
Its fragrance simmering the stove affected men more powerfully than my perfume (Opium, segueing as the decade wore on to Lancôme's Magie Noir.) I served it with real shredded Parmesan (I was just learning about that, too—no more powdery, tasteless wax in a shaker can) and freshly-baked foccacia.
As the years passed, I sometimes thought about cutting back on the butter, but why? Marcella's sauce is an alchemic combination that five-alarms the brain's pleasure center, including that of the cook's, because it returns so much goodness for so little work.
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| Photo: Adam Roberts, The Amateur Gourmet |
Adam Roberts, who writes the ebullient food blog, The Amateur Gourmet, has re-published the recipe, with photos and his own heartfelt homage, here.
As Roberts says, "The recipes we leave behind are powerful things."
If you could be remembered for one stellar dish, what might it be?
Comments
I've been using Marcella recipes for almost 30 years. She was apparently a crabby person IRL--and wrote a memoir with occasional crabby moments (feud with Judith Jones, I believe). I'm off to read the links--thanks!
I was much more interested in Italian cooking than in French!
What am I known for? Probably my baking but my kids say they love everything I make which is nice. They are both coming home for Thanksgiving and already putting in orders for food.
une femme: Often, picky eaters slide gradually toward broader tastes- with dishes like that, who wouldn't? And the most memorable recipes are often simple.
Tabitha: You remind me of what my mother often said: "Anyone can be a good cook if she uses enough butter and cream."
Susan: Homemade breads! I had to stop making because we all put on weight eating three times as much when the loaf was fresh from the oven!
frugal; The memorable foods are often in the "comfort" category and Le Duc's mac and cheese would be on our sons' list, too. I am guessing Marcella was crabby, but also had a big heart, because there is such generosity in her recipes.
Nancy K: I just witnessed an adult child drumming on his plate, just poised for a slice of his mother's Thanksgiving pie. He was adorable, suddenly five again- and his mother was delighted to indulge him. Wonderful you are making those longed-for dishes.
I stumbled upon Hazan's classic book while browsing The Strand bookstore in NYC so many years ago and it has remained one of my treasured favourite cookbooks ever since.
We have some legacy recipes in our family, one of which is my dad's stuffing (the kind you don't stuff into the bird). Since my dad's untimely passing 6 years ago, it has fallen to me to make it and has quickly become a cherished family "heirloom." It wouldn't be Thanksgiving or Christmas without it. And I always feel him there with me every time I make it.
My signature dish might be one of two desserts from the original New York Times cookbook -- Zuppa Inglese (for birthdays and other special occasions), and Viennese crescents (for Christmas).
I remember Marcella Hazan for a wonderful evening with friends, back in the early 90s, when I wowed them all with her bagna cauda. Again, butter played an important role!
btw, your usually great writing is particularly evocative today -- a lovely tribute to MH.
Beth: We must do the grape pie! But have the lemon meringue in reserve in case the grape is only conceptually good.
sisty: I suppose the grated parmesan I serve with it adds some base note, as never thought of the sauce as acidic. Zuppa Inglese! What a knockout dessert and labour of love.
materfamilias: As one who breaks out in a cold sweat over pastry, you are entitled to boast- it is no minor skill.
One of my gfs asked my former mother in law for her pastry recipe. "But, it doesn't taste the same", she said, "I must have left something out."
"Forty years of experience", my MIL replied.
Certainly a chicken tagine with preserved lemons, green olives and a bit of saffron. Another good standby is a fish/seafood soup - a "soupe-repas", or unthickened stew, rather than a bouillon or potage. That has plenty of garlic.
I also like braising turkey thighs with reduced stock, sometimes adding a bottle of dark beer (St-Ambroise Oatmeal Stout). No, it doesn't taste of beer after a long, slow braise. They taste very rich but aren't fatty.
I confess I added a wee bit of garlic when I made the Hazan sauce. She is a good antidote to misuse of garlic and spices, but I find some of her recipes a bit too austere. Beth is spot on about the technique and the clarity - I have quite a few cookbooks from Italy, and Italians sometimes tend to be short on explanations.
I do cooking most days, everything bought fresh.
There is a wide variety in our passion for food, but if I had to choose one thing, it would be LaPasta.
If you google Marcella you notice, that she had obviously una grande passione for Pearls!
Thank you for such a lovely tribut to her.
I am making handmade cookbooks of the recipes we have used for my daughters. BIG project, turns out.
barbara: Those are what think of as "meaty" beans, so satisfying. She wore pearls often, usually a multistrand necklace of whites.
Lane: A fantastic gift. Reminds me that the young-adult daughter of a dear friend in France carried her mother's handwritten notebook of recipes to the US when she was a student, to make her host family the recipes. her knapsack was stolen and all the recipes lost. Another reason to write them down with multiple copes. We too have bits and pieces of paper with recipes scrawled. You remind me to get this organized.
I think every member of my family has a different favourite from my cooking - Spouse loves Szechuan chicken and also an Italian fish soup; Kid 1 loves his comfort food, like tuna casseroles and homemade pizza, while Kid 2 would probably order roast chicken with potatoes roasted in duck fat and asparagus for her last meal ...