Sunday, December 27, 2009

For the love of Le Creuset

The Christmas holiday has left me exhausted. With so much happening, its been hard for me to settle on one particular story to share. My thoughts have been scattered, crowded by the gatherings of old friends, impromptu visits, crowded shopping centers, and the memory of Christmas dinner (an event where the main course included both filet mignon and roasted quails...flight and turf?). Despite all of the wonderful holiday memories I have, I've found it hardest to write a "holiday" post.

The holidays for me always meant waking up to the smell of onions being sauteed in olive oil. Even now, when we've passed on the task of Christmas dinner to my aunt and uncle (my mother's brother), there's still some dish, some specific task we're asked to accomplish that involves onions at 8am. Although it sounds unpleasant, its really one of the many the scents of my childhood tied to happy memories of company, piles of coats stashed on mine and my brother's beds, and an acknowledgment of our commitment to a meal done right. A meal that takes all day to prepare, and a never ending flow of wine. Its a type of cooking that takes all day, but doesn't involve a slow cooker -- my parents will never "set it, and forget it". This specific task for my mother has become the sugo (Sugo [Italian] - Juice , gravy, sauce, essence). I have never tasted a better sugo than my mother's made from deer meat. I believe that our cast iron Le Creuset french oven was engineered specifically for the purpose of bringing forth into the world my mother's deer sauce. The heavy white enameled pot finds its way back to our stove year after year during the holidays to relish in the spatterings of the deep brown juices. We gathering around the little pot any moment it's left unattended with a piece of crusty bread to dunk and steal a taste.

My mother and her sugo have a long history, its taken her years to get it right, and oh is it right. In europe, several old men insisted she had been helped, that a woman born in America could not possibly have made this fantastic "essence" on her own. But mainly I believe its so good because its a pot filled with love. Hours over the stove, sauteeing onions, then browning the meats, then re-introducing the onions, snipping fresh rosemary and bay leaves from the bushes now spending the winter warm and safe in our hallway. Watching as the juices cook down to the perfect thickness, and the meat become tender and sweet. Its that kind of love that makes onions at 8am a memory full of love, its that kind of love that makes Christmas dinner magical.

1 comment:

  1. You are so right! Onions cooking at any hour is the best smell in the world, only to be rivaled by some garlic fying in olive oil....

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