The Diary of a Mad Chef: “A Collection of Culinary Treasures and Short Stories”

© Copyright 2012 Daniel DellaVecchia.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

ISBN: 978-1-4669-4301-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4669-4303-2 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4669-4302-5 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012911349

Trafford rev. 07/26/2012

SKU-000586738_TEXT.pdf www.trafford.com

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Contents

Author’s Note

The Backstory

Dedications and Thanks

Chapter One  My Family and Friends

1. An Ode To Kim and George

2. An Interview with a Future

3. Lisa Joy’s Oven Pancakes

4. Lisa Joy’s Banana Nut Muffins

5. Reese’s Chocolate French Toast and Eggs

6. Passing Grade

7. Finding My Bliss

8. Big Jim’s Favorite Italian Hot Dogs

9. Uncle Harold’s Hot Apple Cider

10. The Love Cabin

11. Aunt Joyce’s Nutty Crescents

12. A Winter Wonderland

13. Ray’s Irish Coffee

14. Aunt Joyce’s Cream Cheese Knots

15. My’s Vietnamese Lettuce Wraps

16. Sesame Noodles

17. Miami Vice Scores In NYC

18. Lisa Joy’s Sugar Cookies

19. Grilled Cheese Sandwich

20. Dinner with Ducks

21. Garlic Bread

22. Suzie Q’s Jersey Shore Quiche

23. Peanut Butter, Jelly, and Banana Sandwich

24. Hot Dogs and Beans

25. My Friend Uncle Buck

26. Beef A Roni

27. Fishing with Phil

28. Mac and Cheese—Please!

29. Sandy’s Chili Dip

30. The Next Chapter

31. Megan’s Pumpkin Desert Bars

32. Tammy’s Better Than Sex Cake

33. Lori’s Pork Tenderloin with Bacon

34. Alice’s Homemade Limoncello Liquor

35. The Adventures of a Good Samaritan

36. Alice’s Limoncello Cake

37. Phyllis’s Seafood Delight

Chapter Two  Granny, Gramps and the Jersey Shore

38. Granny and Gramps

39. Italian Pancakes with Caramel Syrup

40. Granny’s Macaroni Pie

41. Granny Apple Buttermilk Pancakes

42. Italian Chicken Sandwich

43. Granny’s Potato, Pepper, and Egg Sandwich

44. Granny’s Sausage, Pepper, and Onion Sandwich

45. Boardwalk Follies

46. Seaside Gizmo Pizza Sandwich

47. Seaweed, Sand and Stupidity

48. Granny’s Leftover Soup with Depression Meatballs

49. Granny’s Escarole and Bean Soup with Pepperoni

50. Chicken and Dumplings

51. Granny’s Spaghetti, Sausage, and Meatballs

52. I’m Not Going!

53. Broccoli and Cauliflower with Cheddar Cheese Sauce

54. Potatoes Au Gratin

55. Manifest Destiny

Chapter Three  Our Mom, aka The Head

56. Our Mom The Head

57. Bacon Burgers with Mushroom Gravy

58. Grandma Joan’s Stuffed Bell Peppers

59. Grandma Joan’s Irish Stew

60. The Mark of Friendship

61. Paul’s Hawaiian Burbon Chicken Wings

62. Breaded Chicken Cutlets and Gravy

63. Attack of the Bees

64. Aunt Hazel’s Cheesecake

65. Roast Turkey Breast and Gravy

66. Apple Stuffed Pork Loin

67. Turkey Legs Osso Bucco

68. Alexander the Great

69. Grandma Joan's Irish Potato Salad

70. Grandma Bond’s Potato Pancakes

71. Grandma Joan’s Cavatelli and Brocolli

72. The MCI Guy

73. Grandma Joan’s Corned Beef and Cabbage

74. Grandma Joan’s Stuffed Cabbage

Chapter Four  Derek, Evelina, and Sofia

75. My Inspirational Moral Colander

76. Mexican Border Chili

77. Derek’s Roasted Shrimp Cocktail Salad

78. Crispy Fish Tacos and Cucumber Tartar Sauce

79. Seafood Delight

80. Eva’s Polish Sauerkraut

81. Eva’s Polish Cauliflower

82. Evelina’s Kielbasa Sauerkraut and Cabbage Soup

83. Cabbage and Apple Slaw

84. London with My Boys

85. The Super Bowl Splinter

86. Arizona Turkey Quesadillas

87. Tortilla Lasagna

88. A Walking Contradiction

89. Derek’s Carne Asada Tacos

90. Green Beans and Caramelized Red Onions

91. High School Reunion with Benefits

Chapter Five  James, Nicole, Adrianna, and Autumn Rose

92. James The Younger

93. Jamo’s Chicken Cutlet Parmesan

94. Jamo’s Favorite Grilled Jumbo Shrimp

95. The Deportation of Hurricane Dan

96. Jamo’s BBQ Pulled Pork Sandwich

97. Caesar Salad with Bacon and Croutons

98. Consecution Time

99. Fish Cakes with Cheesy Dill Sauce

100. Red Snapper in a Bag

101. Fly Baby Michael, Fly

102. Ti Ti Ashley’s Homemade Mozzarella

103. Brussel Sprouts with Walnuts and Bacon

104. Garlic Mashed Potatoes

105. Puff Daddy for Dummies

106. Joe’s Pocono Blueberry Pancakes

107. The Roman Way

108. Cheesy Polenta Squares

109. Nicole’s Broccoli Slaw

Chapter Six  Brother Steve and Family

110. Pooping and Squirting

111. Grilled Calamari and Olive Salad

112. Honeymoon in Paradise

113. Seafood in a Pot

114. Eager Young Minds

115. Grilled Octopus in Green Sauce

116. Glazed Carrots

117. Lisa Ann’s Eggplant Rollatini

118. Dancing with The Stars

119. Lisa Ann’s Pizzagiana—Italian Easter Pie

120. Back to School

Chapter Seven  Brother Tom and Cousins

121. Run Tommy Run

122. Brother Tom’s Biscuits and Gravy

123. Take Some Notes Charlie Harper

124. Veal Chops in Miami Mango Sauce

125. So You’ll Stop Asking!

126. Cousin Anthony’s Beer Butt Chicken

127. Cousin Pat’s BBQ Ribs

128. Brother Tom’s Meatloaf

129. Deep Fried Asparagus and Prosciutto Bundles

130. Blooming Vidalia Onion

131. Pepperoni Bread

132. Cousin Pat’s Piezolla

133. Super Bowl XXV

134. Penne Puttanesca

135. Black Bean Soup

136. Miami Hurricane Chicken and Potatoes

137. Cousin Barbara’s Hummingbird Cake

138. Grandma Violet’s Corned Beef Pie

139. Livin La Vida Loca

140. Mitch’s Favorite Carrot Cake

141. Aunt Marion’s Veal Marsala

142. Billy and Brian’s Dirt Cake

143. Depression Pot Pie

144. Cousin Trenda’s Swiss Pig Muffins

145. Cousin Trenda’s Flaming Chicken Tetrazinni

146. Cousin Johnnie’s Favorite Miami Beach Cake

147. Love is The Drug for Me

148. Monk Fish Stew

149. Aunt Marie’s Artichoke Pie

Chapter Eight  In Memorium

Author’s Note

On the day I was born, March 19, 1956, Newark, NJ was experiencing a nor’easter snow storm which lasted 3 days and killed 162 people throughout the Northeast. It was termed by local newspapers the storm of the century and caused my parents to call the police for help because they needed to follow a snow plow to the hospital for my delivery. Hence, my life began, and I guess you can assume I was announcing my entry into this world in a big way.

Some highlights of that year: Don Larsen pitched a perfect game in the World Series; Elvis Presley had his first hit record—he also made his Las Vegas performance debut at the Frontier Hotel on April 22nd, got booed off the stage, and soon after was fired. Good thing Elvis didn’t give up! Dwight D. Eisenhower was re-elected president; the Dow went above 500 for the first time; an average home cost $8,800 and minimum wage reached $1.00; Rocky Marciano retired as undefeated Heavyweight boxing champ; and me, I was born!

I arrived less than 100 years after the end of our nation’s Civil War and less than 10 years after WWII ended. My dad had just finished his duty during the Korean War in the US Marine Corp. I mention war because ever since I can remember, our country has been fighting somebody for something I couldn’t figure out as a boy and still can’t understand today. Remember, this was a time in our country’s history where our own people were being killed by some all-controlling unknown force. John and Robert Kennedy were assassinated as well as civil rights leader Dr. Martin Luther King. That hit home as I fully remember being inspired by those people, especially the concepts of space travel, peace and harmony. I remember the now-seemingly-foolish atomic bomb drills we did by hiding under our desks, and as soon as the Russians sent Sputnik into space, our country rallied around President Kennedy and the space race was born. I thought what a great job traveling in space must be, and I wanted to become an astronaut! (That dream job never materialized for me as the requirements were not in any of my bag of tools.) Thankfully born young enough to miss the Vietnam War, I joined protests against our involvement.

I can’t overlook the TV news coverage of the National Organization of Women (NOW) and the women’s movement for equality. The sight of thousands of young women burning their bras made an impression on this 13 year old boy! These protests were my first recollection of associating music with my life’s issues. A habit I continue to the present day. The protest music of Buffalo Springfield’s For What It’s Worth, Bob Dylan’s Blowin in the Wind, and Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young’s Ohio were inspirational to me. Marvin Gaye’s What’s Going On is my favorite anti-war protest song and the best song ever written and performed:

What’s Going On!

Mother, mother

There’s too many of you crying

Brother, brother, brother

There’s far too many of you dying

You know we’ve got to find a way

To bring some lovin’ here today, yeah

Song excerpt by songwriters: Renaldo Benson,

Marvin Gaye and Alfred Cleveland

This excerpt from that song had a real impact on my thinking about our country’s political involvement in the Vietnam War. At the young age of 13, the war hit home when my cousin Joey Sterople returned in a full body cast after his helicopter was shot down somewhere in Vietnam. I remembered thinking, what is going on?

The entire student body at my school, St. Cecilia’s Grammar School, and the students from our High School attended the funeral for the older brother of one of my 8th grade classmates killed in Vietnam. There was so much sorrow and pain during that Mass I remember becoming emotional during the communion ceremony. I did my best to hide my tears as I was one of the Altar Boys assisting in the Mass service that day. When our choir began to sing the Ava Maria song, there wasn’t a dry eye in the entire church.

My connections to musical lyrics and my fondness for books, especially biographies and autobiographies, changed my thinking forever. I got involved with our grammar school’s Literature Club and school politics. Later on, I was elected President of the Class of 1974 at Kearny High, something I am extremely proud to have been associated with as our class made wonderful contributions to our local town. We produced, and I was also a member of the cast, our school play version of Tea House of the August Moon, and I organized a NY Football Giants vs KHS faculty charity basketball game at our newly built basketball center. That one was a total sell-out of more than 2,000 tickets. We were literally grabbing money at the door and dropping it into large garbage cans. We made a fortune for our class and school that day, and I gave an opening speech! Plus, it was great entertainment watching our teachers get crushed by the talented NY Giants. My next plan was to bring Roller Derby to our new gym, but that was rejected by our Board of Education due to some concerns over the destruction of the new basketball surface the rink might cause. Total crap, but what could I do?

My parents took their time bringing my brothers into the world and into our family. Perhaps I scared them shitless because I had their full attention for almost 6 years. When my brothers finally joined the family, it took me some time to fully understand they were here to stay and I had to make room for them in our small bedroom.

My younger brothers, Tom and Steve, and I spent our early school years in the Catholic school system, and every attempt was made to make us conform to society and the norm of the day. Fortunately for me, it didn’t work! My brothers had a tough road to follow in my example. I was born a rebel, a contrarian at heart, and an over achiever. Ingredients that make a perfect storm! I bear the scars to prove the point.

Nothing could prevent me from my goals, often resulting in tremendous success or colossal mistakes on my part. My motto has been, It is better to ask for forgiveness than permission! The I am me and everyone should follow attitude has mellowed over the span of my 56 years, but I remain goal driven. The group Uncle Cracker recorded the song Follow Me and the excerpts from the lyrics sort-of applied to my philosophy:

Follow Me

Follow me, everything is alright

I’ll be the one to tuck you in at night

And if you want to leave, I can guarantee

You won’t find nobody else like me

Song excerpts by songwriters: Shafer, Matthew,

Bradford, Michael

My journey spans great highs and lows highlighted by various experiences: elected high school class President, school athletics, school plays, school choir, Catholic altar boy, marriage, and my precious children and granddaughters. I eventually worked in the telecommunications industry for over 25 years and benefited from the earn-as-you-learn aspects of the business. I even appeared in a national TV ad campaign for MCI. Personal and professional success, as with life priorities, is a balancing act with common trade-off issues. The worst of both are changing jobs and the inevitable loss of loved ones.

Throughout, I tried to maintain a positive and sure I can attitude, especially in business. I always tried to move upward by taking new jobs. If I had no experience with this or that, no problem, I took the job if it paid more. My view is that if someone else can do it, then I can learn it and maybe even do it a little bit better. The best part to me was getting paid for the effort.

My earliest memory of earning money is with my longest friend, Paul Forfar, aka, Foff. When we were 7 year old young kids growing up in Kearny, New Jersey, we would roll our red wagon around the neighborhood searching bushes for empty deposit beer and soda bottles. We’d clean them up, bring them to the local grocery store and get 2 or 5 cents each. Big money to us! We’d spend the money on baseball cards, collect the good ones, and pitch the average player cards against a porch stoop in a game we played as kids.

When I was a kid of 10 years, I had a shoe shine box. On Saturdays I would make the rounds to the local corner bars and clean and shine shoes and boots. Kearny was a very blue-collar town of immigrants from Scotland, Ireland and England, brogue and all. The sport of soccer was dominant in the town of Kearny, and we had several players represent the USA in the 1994 Olympics and World Cup.

With my shine box I literally cleaned-up and made on average $15.00 in a couple of hours. Later on I worked in a Harrison hardware store on Saturdays stocking shelves with gallons of paint for $20.00. I had a newspaper route. I always had money in my pocket. As a young adult I started as a telephone technician, and I was amazed when I would get paid extra for overtime and Saturday work. Are you kidding!

My career in telecommunications began almost out of high school. I went to college for one semester but that bored me. I kicked around with different jobs but nothing of any real long-term opportunity until telecom. I enjoyed every aspect of the industry and had a variety of jobs beginning with telephone technician, equipment sales representative, equipment sales manager, communications analyst, communications manager, network services manager, communications consultant, and finally with MCI in NYC as the branch service manager.

A formal degree in telecommunications did not exist when I started back in 1979. Knowledge was obtained by on the job education, manufactures’ seminars and formal courses, but mostly field experience. I would kid my colleagues, especially at MCI where formal degrees from major colleges were required when I was hired in 1990, that I was a graduate of UCLA. Most would assume that meant University of California at Los Angeles but my interpretation was a more accurate description and meant Under the Corner Lamppost of Adversity!

I have learned quite a bit over the years and would like to believe some of my good points and work ethic have been adopted and continued by my boys, Derek and James. I tried to set an example on how to do things right, but man when I screwed up, it was usually pretty bad, and I definitely taught them what not to do as well. I learned from the people in my life who set good and bad examples. I did my best to become a good man, and I never attempted to hide either the good things or my mistakes from the boys. Hopefully, they understand and appreciate the openness I demonstrated during their childhood. Time will tell with their histories of work and parenting, and so far their results are excellent.

My life took a major turn after a car accident in 1998 and the subsequent 8 surgeries and regular rehabs that followed for the next several years. The overwhelming pain and suffering was a major changing point for me, and I became bedridden, miserable and depressed. I physically could not perform most simple daily tasks and became dependent on others, especially Lisa, my wife at the time. I was frustrated and angry at the world. It cost me my marriage and I never fully physically recovered. Today, it takes great courage to face each morning of pain as I continue to live with my physical disabilities.

Life is very different today. In my past I believed I was invincible, but because of the accident I became conquerable. An enormous series of adjustments and resignations to my restricted abilities and understanding my limits have me in a better place. Ten years ago, one of my doctors suggested I begin to write down my feelings of frustration for future discussions in group therapy sessions. That developed into writing stories about my life, and ultimately I wrote a few screen plays and stories. Since I was the president of the Literature club at St Cecilia’s Grammar School and participated in high school plays because I have a love for stories, writing was a natural fit for me and something I could do on a daily basis with a laptop computer. It was a great suggestion by the doctor and probably saved my life.

I combined the writing process with my love for music, and as I worked I became so focused time would fly by. Sitting in my special orthopedic recliner chair, I would turn on the television to a music channel, open up the laptop computer, glide the chair back into a comfortable position, fade into my memories, and pound the keyboard. This process took me out of my reality and into the wonderful world of imagination and I would drift away. Time flew by, and it was a terrific escape for me in terms of pain. During the writing process, I am somewhere else and enter a transcendental state of mind that temporarily relieves my pain.

The love and support of my family, friends and medical professionals helped me during that period in my life. I slowly transformed from a bitter hopeless person into a more realistic man with a conforming attitude. It may have taken 13 years or so, but I have emotionally recovered. The physical damage remains and I must manage that pain and frustration day to day.

In the beginning, my writings were a blur of pain medicated ramblings of self-pity. My life was in ruins and I hated the fact that I was trapped in a sedentary existence. Perhaps, those initial ramblings were what I termed later the longest known suicide note in the world. I entitled those ramblings Of Natural Causes and completed that story sometime in 2004, possibly the lowest point in my life as my actions caused my wife of 23 years to move on with her life without me.

When my divorce from Lisa was finalized in 2005 and we sold our home in North Arlington, New Jersey, I packed up my stuff and moved to Miami to live with my brother Tommy. During the packing process, I re-read Of Natural Causes and threw it out! I needed to purge those thoughts, not immortalize them, and start anew in Miami.

My dogs, Blaise and Lulu Belle, and I were looking forward to the new surroundings in Miami. Continental Airlines charged me $950 to transport my dogs on the plane from Newark to Miami that day. That’s a one way charge! As the plane rolled down the runway and we became airborne on our way to Miami, I remember singing the following lyrics, to myself of course, with the hope the change would help me find peace:

Changes In Latitudes, Changes In Attitudes

It’s these changes in latitudes, changes in attitudes

Nothing remains quite the same

With all of our running and all of our cunning

If we couldn’t laugh we would all go insane

Excerpts by songwriters; Jimmy Buffet and

The Coral Reefer Band

I remember the first time I noticed a shift in perspective. It was in 2000 at a group therapy session at Kessler Hospital in West Orange, NJ with other rehab patients. I was sitting in my wheelchair next to a young guy laid out on a hospital gurney. He was made quadriplegic from a car accident and couldn’t move from the neck down. As was typical during the sessions, everyone was bitching about their own life problems and we eventually took a break.

During the break, the guy calls to me and tells me that I should be ashamed of myself for complaining. He pointed out that I would eventually heal enough to resume some semblance of life and I should be grateful. He was stuck looking up most of the time and unable to move. Then, he asked me to do a remarkable thing. He begged me to kill him! Why? Because he couldn’t move from his neck down and do it for himself.

He asked me to come into his room later that day and smother him with a pillow. He had completely given up and wanted to die. At that moment a chill came over me and I began to feel a bit better about my own situation. I explained to him I was sorry for him but I just couldn’t kill him. I remember looking into his eyes as tears rolled down our cheeks. I cried like a baby as I wheeled myself out of that room and on the road to recovery.

Sometime after that incident, I was in major pain and called my priest for discussion and advice. When I was able, I attended church on Sundays in my wheelchair, and later with crutches, and eventually with a walking cane. Our church had a young priest from Rome in residence and we became friends. Monsignor Coleman was very encouraging and we prayed together for what I thought would be a miracle from God. My slogan back then was PUSH it: Pray Until Something Happens. To me, I felt like I was a race car on an auto repair shop lift completely out of service. I was miserable and not very pleasant to be around.

On the day I called Monsignor Coleman, he was unable to talk because he broke his leg skiing according to Debi, his secretary. Debi offered to me, an unknown person to her, warmth and caring that felt genuine and from her heart. Right away I liked Debi, so I began my typical ranting and listing of all my troubles. That I was in a car accident, had 8 surgeries, and rehab, and the day to day pain. I was losing faith and I needed help.

Then, another remarkable thing occurred as Debi began to share with me her own feeling of despair. How she also talked with Monsignor Coleman at great length about her problems and how wonderful it was to have someone to talk with when she was down. This wonderful woman described to me her personal loss and heart aches. She shared with me her most grievous loss, the loss of her children. A few months prior her twenty something children, Billy and Ashley, were killed on the Garden State Parkway by a drunk driver. Yikes!

There I was sitting in my bed being consoled by a lady in the deepest pain of all after suffering the loss of her children. It completely blew my mind and I felt ashamed of myself. Again, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up and chills ran through my body. I quickly shifted my focus to her pain and I consoled her as best as I could. I thanked her for helping me see more clearly and we shared a good cry. I never met Debi but she will be in my heart for the rest of my life.

That conversation shifted the paradigm off my pain and problems for good. I began to emerge from my total feelings of despair and self-pity. I needed to live for my kids and move forward no matter what the cost. I continue to use the memory of the kid on the gurney and the phone call with Debi whenever I feel down to snap me out of my funk. I struggle on a day to day basis to live with the limitations caused by my pain and nerve damage. I try to find peace and satisfaction in the aspects of life I took for granted. I remember those people every day and am thankful to them for sharing their issues with me and making me a better man.

Since 1998, my life had been consumed by nurses, doctors, hospitals, surgeries, rehabilitation therapy, wheel chairs, crutches, walking canes, medications and pain. Life became a complete break with any resemblance to my past lifestyle. The days of commuting to work into Manhattan, weekend golf and softball, coaching football or any physical activities were gone, forever! I did not adjust well and drove people away. The process of writing saved my life. I began to articulate and focus my mind on aspects of my life which I needed to remember.

This focus and the writing process produced Saints and Amazon Hole (both screenplays), some spec scripts for TV shows, and this cook book. My intent was not to achieve commercial success, but rather to provide me with physical activity which I could do post-accident. Writing provides the outlet I need to reflect on the past and recognize, like George Baily did in the movie It’s a Wonderful Life, that I really am lucky! Writing more importantly provides me something to look forward to doing each day that I enjoy.

My boys are grown and happily married. Derek is living in Arizona with his beautiful wife Evelina and their baby Sofia and supports his family by working in a hospital radiology department. They are considering a move to Colorado and probably will be there when this book is finally published. James lives in New Jersey and is married to a beautiful woman, Nicole, and they have two children: Adrianna and Autumn Rose. Jamo works in the Insurance industry and Nicole just interrupted her successful career to focus on the kids for the next few important developmental years.

I am fortunate to talk on a daily basis with my boys, and we usually Skype on weekends to see the grandkids and maintain our close relationship. Without question they are the center of my joy and life! I am very lucky to have my family to enjoy. Life is better!

The Backstory

Cooking is the process of preparing food by applying heat—props to Google for the definition. In my world it is the center of the family. From my early childhood I have memories of our family gathered in the kitchen. It must have been those incredible smells that drew the crowds. Grandmothers, aunts, a few uncles, cousins, friends, and my mom all knew how to get attention—feed the family!

I absorbed that tradition and continued it along, and I enjoy my time in the kitchen with my friends and family. My boys, Derek and James, and their families encouraged me to write this cook book and I’m glad they did. As with most families, recipes are scattered among the best cooks in the family. If you are lucky, you may find a written recipe here and there, but often they only exist in the mind of the cook. Now, this labor of love has collected culinary treasures and listed some of our most popular dishes in one easy to understand and use cook book.

The title, The Diary of a Mad Chef, is the name I chose for this book. If you ever saw me cook, the cover art accurately portrays my messy style! The book includes favorite recipes, family and friend photos, and short stories about the people who make the food important. As you will read within the pages of the short stories, I have enjoyed a colorful life. This book provided me a platform to gather my favorite dishes and tell stories about the people most close to me during my life, an opportunity to deconstruct my life and reveal some of my life experiences, warts and all.

I recently read that Vince Lombardi, the most famous football coach in the world, actually read recipes for relaxation. Imagine that! One of the most macho men from New York enjoyed reading and thinking about food. Well, if one of our greatest leaders enjoyed reading about food, then who are we to question? I never met the man, but I was coached in High School in New Jersey by a man that was his evil twin, gap in the front teeth and all. Actually, I had a great experience and am now wondering if my coach reads recipes.

This cook book project was suggested to me last year by my son Derek during a heated game of Spades. Derek sold the idea to me by pointing out the obvious. He said, Pop you love to write as well as cook and this project gives you the chance to combine both. I accepted Derek’s suggestion, and writing this book has become a true labor of love. It has been a challenge to gather and record our family’s culinary and oral history. Hopefully you will enjoy reading the stories and eating the wonderful meals as much as I have enjoyed writing this book.

What began as a simple collection of recipes has morphed into a 3-part book. This cook book is actually three projects wrapped up into one. First, the collection of recipes took an incredible amount of digging and detective work to collect from friends and family. Second, this cook book is also a family photo album. With the help of my friends and family I was able to obtain some our most treasured photographs. Third and lastly, the short stories or memoirs that describe some of my life’s experiences and observations often associated with the photo or recipes. This cook book has been a wonderful experience for me and something I hope everyone will enjoy.

This cook book includes food, photos and stories for everyone. Old and young will find a favorite breakfast, lunch, dinner, outstanding side dishes and special drinks within these covers. Perhaps some of the photos, stories or recipes may be yours! I promise each recipe will be simple to prepare and made with readily available ingredients. You can read through this book and hopefully enjoy the short stories as you prepare the dishes.

If you can find the time I recommend gathering your own family culinary treasures and writing your own family cook book. It’s easier than you think and more rewarding than you can imagine. Hopefully as you prepare these recipes, your family will become overwhelmed by the smells emanating from your kitchen and ask, Hey, what are you cooking? That smells great!

So, from my family to you and yours, enjoy!

Dan with his boys, James and Derek, and a friend’s daughter, Ronnie Cole, at her new house in New Jersey, circa 1987

Dedications and Thanks

My sincere thanks to my family and friends for assisting me in the gathering of the photos and recipes for this family cook book project. Also, for jogging my memory during the writing of the short stories and keeping the stories as accurate as possible. I have never been accused of letting facts get in the way of a good story, so thanks for keeping me on track.

All my love and thanks for your assistance with this project:

To our next generation to carry on our hope for a bright future:

Adrianna the Bundle DellaVecchia

Sofia the Chewister DellaVecchia

Autumn Rose Rosie DellaVecchia

Giovanni Gio DellaVecchia

And with my special thanks to my editor and friend Katrina Barrios for possessing the ability to literally read my mind!

The following lyrics convey my feelings of love to my Boys, friends, and family!

ALL MY TOMORROWS

Today I may not have a thing at all

Except for just a dream or two

But I’ve got lots of plans for tomorrow

And all my tomorrows belong to you

Lyrics by: Cahn/Van Heusen and my favorite

Frank Sinatra song

Chapter One

My Family and Friends

Brother Tom, Dan, and Brother Steve on Easter Sunday in Kearny, NJ; circa 1967

Kim and George Billingham; circa 1980

1. An Ode To Kim and George

In the fall of 1977 my parents moved into a large house in the wealthy section of Kearny, NJ. At the time I was restless and unfocused. I worked at Port Elizabeth as a day laborer with my Cousin Linda’s boyfriend. The job paid at the end of the day $50.00 cash money, good money back then. At night I bartended at the local pub, the same pub I shined shoes at when I was a kid, more cash money. The off the books jobs allowed me to collect unemployment for one year from my work down the Jersey Shore during the summer season. The sum total of all three incomes provided me $600.00 per week. That is if the tips were good that week at the pub!

My parents recently sold our two multi-family homes on Highland Avenue in Kearny and we moved into the upscale section of town known as The Manor. The new house was enormous and I had my own living space on the top floor including a private bathroom and walk-in cedar closet. A far cry from our earlier days of sharing a bedroom with my two brothers!

One Saturday I decided to take a walk around the block and check out the new neighborhood. I noticed a beautiful little blonde-haired girl playing on her lawn near a big corner lot colonial house. I stopped and started chatting with the youngster and her mom appeared in the doorway. That was Kim Billingham, a beautiful women a couple of years my senior with long blonde hair, longer legs and a bright smile. I explained to Kim that I was new to the area and she invited me in for a beer.

Kim was an extremely intelligent and crafty, beautiful blonde with a real common sense. Kim had a difficult childhood and never let her past interfere with her happiness. Kim was the prototypical hippy mom of the day and we quickly became family. We sat in her kitchen talking and discovering the common people we knew in Kearny and our likes in music. Music was always playing at their house and music was a major influence in my life since 1968.

Then, into the room steps her husband George bearing a bag of food and more beer. George looked a lot like the late comedian George Carlin, and as I quickly found out, was as good a storyteller. The three of us bonded over a few bears and great music, and a strong friendship was born. I found myself taking frequent walks around the block to hang out with Kim and George. Their daughter Krislyn was a treat to be around.

George was an extreme guy, and didn’t aspire to the typical goals of most people. He was not consumed with the concept of making money. George loved music and that became our primary connection. As far back as I could recall, music and lyrics helped me through some dark days and provided enlightenment. I hear music in my head all day long! It’s like having a built in IPod. We shared a love of music and George began to teach me about the production process.

George opened the world of music from an insider’s perspective. I met amazing people through George. Talented musicians and artists were always around. They respected George’s ability to produce their Gig’s and his overall music knowledge. George was one of the most intelligent and talented people I have ever known. Unfortunately, like many artists, he shared their common lifestyle flaws and that always caused conflict and drama. George was the older brother I always wanted and I loved him.

Soon after we met, George had an upcoming gig at a local nightclub with a local band. He asked me to assist him with the sound engineering for the gig and I jumped at the chance. We began to get the equipment together: A huge Kelsey mixing board, enormous speakers, microphones, and what seemed like miles of cables. I had become a roadie!

George taught me the nuances of music in terms of its production. Each cable connected to a microphone or instrument and then connected to the mixing board. Then cables from the mixer connected to speakers and sound was born! Each lever, knob adjusted the individual sound, and it was up to