Almost Italian

What’s in a name?

Most connoisseurs of the American red sauce repertoire would deem Mussels Posillipo to be a relatively recent addition to the menu.

Copyright © 2009, Skip Lombardi

A little research reveals that Florence Fabricant had discussed Mussels Posillipo in The New York Times in 1978, and I know that I had not heard the name until the early-1980′s, when I lived in Boston’s North End.

I was, however, very well acquainted with the combination of mussels with marinara sauce, because it had been one of grandfather’s signature dishes. When I was growing up in Connecticut in the 1950′s, I recall him and other members of our Sicilian community combining shellfish with whatever homemade tomato sauce anyone happened to have in the refrigerator.

In the summer, my grandfather (‘Pop’ to his grandchildren) engaged in marine foraging whose rewards were always welcome at the LaBella table…

As I wrote in my first cookbook about growing up in the kitchen of Italian immigrants:

In our family, Pop’s creation was simply “mussels with tomato sauce,” or cozze alla marinara if we were going to speak proper Italian. Posillipo was terra incognita to us Sicilians, but obviously, it meant something to somone…

View of the Bay of Naples and Vesuvius from Posillipo

Turns out that Posillipo is a rather toney suburb of Naples; it was developed during the 19^th century by those affluent enough to live and build out of town, on a high bluff with a view of that famous bay. It was definitely not the sort of place frequented by most of the Napoletani immigrants to North America.

However, Posillipo is exactly the sort of place that second or third- generation Italian-American GIs and sailors from the Sixth Fleet would visit for their R & R. In short, just the sort of romantic location you’d long remember… especially if you went back home and joined the team at your family’s restaurant in Hoboken.

Posillipo, a little bit exotic and just the right seasoning for a delicious dish….

So think of any checkered-tablecloth restaurant with walls covered in sports memorabilia, signed photos, and one of those less-than-Leonardo landscapes of Vesuvius soaring above the Bay of Naples. The clue is right there…

Posillipo—the origin of the name (like so many in southern Italy) is from the ancient Greek; no surprise. But the meaning of pausílypon, “a respite from worry or pain,” is both ironic and completely appropriate for this posh, high-rent district.

For most who left Italy in the age of immigration, America was quite a respite indeed. Consider that so many who escaped destitution and famine in the Mezzogiorno not only survived the transatlantic crossing in steerage but also became the parents and grandparents of people like me, Americans who have never known hunger. That those people, i poveri, left Italy to found the culinary culture we celebrate here on AlmostItalian.com is truly a wonder.

And a dish that just happens to be red, white and blue is certainly a fitting tribute to that irony.

Ingredients:

Olive oil
1 Small onion, finely chopped
4 Cloves garlic, minced
1 Cup dry white wine
2 Cups my grandmother’s tomato sauce
4 Tbs. Flat-leaf Italian parsley, finely chopped
4 Tbs. Fresh basil, finely chopped
Salt & freshly ground black pepper
½ tsp. Crushed red pepper flakes
30 – 36 Mussels, scrubbed and debearded

1 Lb. Linguine or Spaghetti
4 Tbs. Flat-leaf Italian parsley, finely chopped

Preparation:

Heat a large (4 – 6 qt.) pot over medium heat, then add enough olive oil to cover the bottom of the pot. Add the onion and garlic, and cook until the onions become translucent.

Raise the heat to high and add the wine. Boil for a minute or two to evaporate the alcohol.

Add the tomato sauce, then the parsley and basil. Taste for seasoning, and add salt and pepper as necessary. Add the red pepper flakes. Lower the heat, and simmer the sauce for approximately 10 minutes.

As the sauce is simmering, bring a large pot of salted water (at least six quarts) to the boil.

Add the pasta to the boiling water.

As the pasta cooks, add the mussels to the marinara. Cover and simmer until the mussels have opened; about 5 minutes. Discard any mussels that have not opened after 5 minutes.

When the pasta has reached the al dente state (after approximately 10 minutes) drain in a colander.

To Serve:

This is a dish that truly wants to be served family-style.

Pour the pasta onto a platter or into a large bowl. With a large spoon or ladle, scoop the mussels from the sauce and mound them atop the pasta. Ladle the sauce over the mussels and the pasta. Garnish with the additional parsley. (Provide an empty bowl for discarded shells.)

Serves four.