Marcella Hazan taught generations of Americans about Italian cuisine. Now, at 80, her latest cookbook is a lifetime of those lessons.
By JANET K. KEELER
Published October 6, 2004
[Times photo: Scott Keeler]
Marcella Hazan’s custom-made kitchen in her Longboat Key condominium features a peninsular cook top that allows her to work with the Gulf of Mexico view in front of her.
[Cartoon courtesy of David Sipress]
LONGBOAT KEY - Whether you know it or not, Marcella Hazan has changed the way you cook.
If you have ever stuffed lemon halves into a chicken before roasting, credit her. Likewise, stirring risotto, making pesto or even knowing that dried pasta should be cooked in rapidly boiling water. And never add oil to the water or the sauce will slide off slick pasta.
Hazan introduced balsamic vinegar to the United States, but she regrets what she started just by giving a taste of it to Chuck Williams, founder of Williams-Sonoma.
Hazan didn't invent these ingredients, dishes and techniques, but she taught them to U.S. cooks through cookbooks and classes. Before she began her accidental crusade in the late '60s, most of us were shaking Parmesan cheese from green cardboard canisters. Spaghetti? Seasonings, sauce and pasta came in a box from Chef Boyardee.
Her sixth, and perhaps most personal, book, Marcella Says (HarperCollins, $29.95) is crammed with the wisdom she's been dispensing at cooking classes for three decades. At 80, Hazan says it will be her last book. But she said that about 1997's Marcella Cucina, too.
Last Wednesday just after 3 p.m., Hazan sat for a two-hour interview about her career and the new book. She doesn't schedule interviews between 12:30 and 3 p.m., that's lunch time, followed by rest time. No exceptions.
"Marcella really is the grand dame of Italian cooking," says Barbara Haber, the recently retired curator of books at the Schlesinger Library on the History of Women in America at Harvard University. "I do give Marcella credit in her first book, The Classic Italian Cookbook (Harper's Magazine Press, 1973), for laying out the principles of the cuisine in an intelligent and understandable way - much as Julia (Child) laid out the principles of French cooking. And she explains the regional differences within Italy and how ingredients and cooking styles change from one area to another.
"I know people, foodies to be sure, who have cooked their way through Marcella's early books, as many did with (Child's) Mastering the Art of French Cooking."
But Hazan never became a TV fixture as did Child, so she is not as recognizable. Unless, of course, you like to cook, watch TV cooking shows, collect cookbooks or read food magazines.
New Yorker cartoonist David Sipress paid tribute to her in a recent issue of Saveur magazine. His cartoon shows two women in a kitchen, one looking at a small statue of a woman enshrined over the stove. The caption reads, "It's not a saint, exactly. It's Marcella Hazan."
Hazan has the original framed on her wall.
A big year
Hazan has been heaped with accolades this year: a lifetime achievement award from the International Association of Culinary Professionals (to add to the same award from the James Beard Association in 2000) and two honors from the Italian government, including a knighthood of the Star of Italian Solidarity.
The trophies and plaques are lined on the TV in the bedroom of the gulf-front condominium she shares with Victor, 76, her husband of nearly 50 years. All the awards, that is, except the James Beard medallion. That one is stashed in a drawer with her Marlboro Lights.
No slight intended, she says, it just doesn't stand up on its own like the others.
Her son, Giuliano Hazan, a cookbook author who lives with his family in Sarasota, threw a birthday bash for her in April at the 16th century villa near Verona, Italy, where he teaches Italian cooking. On the guest list was former Today show host Bryant Gumbel, who Hazan says bugged her so much during one of her televised appearances that she smacked him on the arm. They've been fast friends since.
She's scheduled to cook on the morning news show on Oct. 13, but she's skeptical about how much she can accomplish in four minutes. She plans to showcase some of the easy appetizer recipes in Marcella Says.
"I usually never get along with the stylist," she says. "I know which vegetable I want to talk about more and they always put it too far away."
Hazan is not exactly what you'd call warm and fuzzy, though she's quick to smile at a funny remembrance. She's more like an exacting music teacher whom you don't want to disappoint by hitting the wrong note. You come back for more, because you learn so much.
She still teaches recreational classes twice a year at the French Culinary Institute in New York. About a dozen students pay $2,150 each for the four-course series. Sessions start at 5:30 p.m. and end at 10:30 unless, Hazan says, she has more to teach. Often, students are chopping, peeling and listening until nearly midnight.
The teaching, Hazan says, may end soon, too. An ailing back forces her to sit while she teaches, and it's difficult to do so much cooking that way.
"Julia told me I was too much of a perfectionist," Hazan says. "She said I should shorten the classes, cut something out. But I have too much to say."
Besides, Child never understood the love affair with Italian food. She didn't get it, Hazan says.
"Italian cooking is everyday cooking," she says. "French food, with all the sauces, is not something you'd cook every day."
A joint effort
Hazan's books have been a partnership between she and her husband, a wine afficionado who has written several books on the subject. She writes in Italian, he translates to English. She hates to measure, he makes sure she does so that the recipes can be replicated by amateur cooks. Plus, he's the primary aribiter of good taste.
"He tastes all my recipes and he discusses what he likes and what he doesn't," Hazan says.
Hazan likes to tell stories to emphasize her points, which she may think necessary because she says her English is not good. Actually, it's quite good.
"One time, Victor was tasting a recipe and came into the kitchen and said, "Don't you cut off both ends of green beans when you make them?"' she says. "Yes,' I said. "Then why doesn't it say that in the recipe? Also, what size pot should they use?"'
Marcella and Victor were born a few miles apart on the eastern coast of Emilia-Romagna, south of Venice. They didn't know each other as children but met after his family returned to Italy after World War II. They married and moved to New York, where he worked in his father's fur business. With doctoral degrees in biology and natural sciences, she was a laboratory scientist.
She stopped working when Giuliano was born and devoted herself to homemaking and cooking, after all, there was no grandmother or mother to help. Her life was transformed, she says, when she started teaching small groups of women how to cook. An article about her in the New York Times got a book publisher interested and her culinary career went big time. She was almost 50 when her first book was published.
The Hazans returned to Italy, to Bologna and then to Venice, where they owned and operated cooking schools. Eventually, they split their time between Italy and New York.
The couple landed in Florida for the same reason many people do: because of lousy weather somewhere else. (Even this year's hurricanes haven't dampened Hazan's love for the sunny skies.)
"Victor came home one day in New York and said, "I'm cold,"' Hazan says. "That's why we moved to Florida; Victor was cold."
There's more to the story than that, though. The Hazans were drawn to Sarasota because their son was here and the health care was good. In 1999, they settled in Longboat Key, and for the first time the Hazans had no home in Italy.
It hasn't been easy.
Even her renown and a fabulous, custom-made kitchen can't overcome the limitations of the grocery stores. She asks "why can't I get that here?" just as other ambitious and accomplished local cooks do.
Her neighborhood Publix doesn't have all the ingredients she wants, and she misses the lush Rialto market of Venice and the bustling streets of New York. At one upscale food market, she asked for Jerusalem artichokes and was directed to a small pile of baby artichokes. Not even close; they aren't in the same botanical family.
She was miffed, she says, when her HarperCollins editor questioned her about the many savoy cabbage recipes in Marcella Says. "Did they have a sale at Publix?" the editor asked.
Hazan has learned to work with what she has, finding new appreciation for Florida avocados and oranges.
But she is not always as fond of condo life. Despite having a glorious view of the gulf, Hazan says she sometimes feels like a prisoner.
She doesn't drive and is dependent on Victor or others to take her to the market, the doctor, the shoe store. In New York and Italy, she could walk to those places. She complains about putting on weight since becoming a Floridian but scoffs at the people walking the beach.
"What is the point of that, premeditated walking?" she asks. "You can't get anything done out there, there's no market, no bakery, no shoe store."
Balsamic brouhaha
Hazan blames herself for the ubiquitous phony balsamic vinegar that Americans drown their salads with. It's nothing more than red wine vinegar with herbs and caramel to mimic thick, deeply flavored aged balsamic, she says.
Years ago, she made lunch for Chuck Williams, the founder of Williams-Sonoma, and served him a few drops of pungent balsamic. He was quiet for a while and then asked where she got it. Six months later, balsamic vinegar appeared in the Williams-Sonoma catalog. From there, the parade of cheap imitations began.
"I'm very sorry I did that," she says. "I'm very mad about balsamic vinegar."
The real deal is made in Modena, Italy, from the unfermented juice of the region's wine grapes, usually trebbiano. And at $80 or more for 4 ounces, it's used by the drop, not the dump.
"Now the bad balsamic is even being used in Italy," Hazan says.
Feeling generous to two visitors who have come to chat and take pictures of her, Hazan shares a spoonful of aged balsamic vinegar from the bottle she keeps on her dining table.
The thick liquid explodes on the tongue, then acid and sweet bounce from front to back, side to side. If taste buds can transport you, we are in Italy. The taste lingers, and it's laughable to think how fooled we've been by the imitators.
"This aceto balsamico has been aged 50 years and costs $185 a bottle," she says, gently waving the small bottle in the air.
"It is not insulting to bread to call it stale because freshness is merely the first of its many lives."
* * *
"The ubiquitous and boring rare grilled tuna steak is one of the most inert things one can eat."
* * *
"Do not serve pasta with a pool of sauce resting on top, no matter how pretty it looks."
* * *
"Leeks alone can be so cloying."
* * *
"Cooking on top of the stove puts judgment to work, and I like that a lot better than traveling through the kitchen on automatic pilot."
* * *
"When I think of all the people I know who will cook anything as long as they don't have to fry it, I think, sadly, of what they are all missing."
* * *
"Why Jerusalem artichokes are not on everyone's table perplexes me."
* * *
"At the hour that some of my neighbors in Florida are already halfway into their night's sleep, many Italians are beginning to feel a gnawing emptiness that needs to be filled with a quick plate of spaghetti."
* * *
- From "Marcella Says: Italian Cooking Wisdom from the Legendary Teacher's Master Classes, with 120 of Her Irresistible New Recipes" by Marcella Hazan (HarperCollins, 2004; $29.95)
Recipes
Breast of Chicken Pate With Black Olives
1 small carrot, peeled
1/4 of a medium onion
1 celery stalk
1 pound skinless, boneless chicken breast
Fine sea salt
6 ounces black Greek olives (about 30 olives)
1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil
4 tablespoons butter, softened at room temperature
1/2 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
The grated peel of 1 medium lemon, the outer layer only, with none of the bitter white pith beneath
Black pepper, ground fresh from the mill
Pour 3 cups of water into a saucepan, add the carrot, onion quarter and celery stalk, and bring to a boil.
Trim the chicken breast of any bits of skin and fat, and drop it into the pot with 1 teaspoon salt. Cook over moderate heat at a slow boil for 10 minutes; then retrieve the breast with a slotted spoon or with tongs, and make an incision in the thickest part to see whether it is fully cooked or slightly raw. In the latter case, return it to the pot and cook at a leisurely boil for another 3 or 4 minutes. Remove the breast and set it aside to cool. (Discard broth or save for another use.)
Pit olives, put them in bowl of a food processor with the olive oil and process until creamy. Do not remove the olive paste from the bowl.
Cut the chicken breast into 1-inch pieces and add them to the bowl along with the butter, nutmeg, grated lemon peel and liberal grindings of black pepper. Process to a creamy consistency. Taste and correct for salt.
Scoop the mixture out of the bowl and onto a plate, and mold it into a brick shape. Wrap with plastic film and refrigerate for at least 24 hours or no longer than five days. Serve with crackers or crostini.
Makes about 12 portions.
Nutritional information per serving: 129 calories, 7g fat (2g saturated), 8g protein, 2g carbohydrates, less than 1g fiber, 451mg sodium.
Source: "Marcella Says" by Marcella Hazan (HarperCollins, $29.95).
Fennel and Goat Cheese Salad
1 large, round fennel
Fine sea salt
1/4 pound goat cheese
Black pepper, ground fresh from the mill
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
Trim off the fennel tops and a thin slice off the root end. Cut off and discard any blemished part of the bulb's outer leaves. With a sharp chef's knife, cut the bulb horizontally into very thin slices. You may use a mandoline if you have one, or the slicing disk of a food processor. If using the processor, first cut the fennel into vertical sections that will fit down the feed tube.
Soak the slices briefly in cold water, drain and pat them dry with a cloth towel or shake the water off in a salad spinner.
Put the slices in a deep serving dish and sprinkle lightly with salt.
Cut the cheese into 1/4-inch rounds and place them over the fennel.
Set the pepper mill to medium-coarse and grind a liberal amount over the salad.
Drizzle the olive oil over the salad, distributing it evenly. Taste and correct for salt. Serve.
For 4 to 6.
Nutritional information per serving (4): 190 calories, 17g fat (6g saturated), 6g protein, 5g carbohydrates, 2g fiber, 710mg sodium.
Source: "Marcella Says" by Marcella Hazan (HarperCollins, $29.95).
Meet Marcella
Marcella Hazan will attend a book signing and party from 7 to 9 p.m. Oct. 16 at Sarasota News & Books, 1341 Main St. in downtown Sarasota. Call (941) 365-6332 for more information.
