Head over Heels

This guy was quite the teacher’s pet in his day. But I am getting way ahead of myself.

It was while looking through one of my great aunt Marie’s photo albums, that I came across one of her favorite photos from her collection. It was a small picture that had become ragged after being carried in her wallet for many years.

1938 Newark, New Jersey

The snapshot, taken in Newark, New Jersey, in 1938, shows the Roselle Beauty Salon’s sandwich girl promoting the salon’s new “Guaranteed Croquignole Permanent Ringlet Ends” for just $1.50 and “Individual Machineless Permanent” for $2.50.

If you are like me, you may not know what Croquignole means. Croquignole (pronounced : kroh-kuh-nohl) is a method of waving hair by curling it around a metal rod from the ends inward toward the scalp.

Like this:

1930s Permanent Wave. Yikes!!

Here's a photo of the Roselle Beauty Salon that was taken in 1939. The woman in the corner is my aunt, Marie Esposito.

If you look over my aunt’s shoulder, over by the window, you will see the permanent wave machine that she used to do the croquignole waving.

Just the sight of that contraption must have scared many a customer, not to mention any kids that entered the salon!

What we won't do for beauty huh?

But once again I am getting head of myself. Let’s go further back in time to learn how all this started.

According to a story my aunt Marie told me back in 1982, as a young woman she worked in the Clark Thread Company factory located in Newark, New Jersey. Her tenure at the factory was cut short when the foreman noticed that Marie was more often in the ladies room than at her workstation. Her absence was due to the fact that Marie preferred to be in the ladies room working on her co-workers’ hair rather than being at her post working on the factory floor.

Marie not only loved working on the ladies hair, she was really quite good at it. So good in fact that she was able to talk a Newark, New Jersey, beautician by the name of Joe Roselle into letting her work for him in his beauty salon.

Joe Roselle and Marie (center) in the first Roselle Beauty Salon in the 1920s

Soon Joe and Marie were partners in work and in life. Though they never married, my Dad’s siblings referred to Joe Roselle as “uncle Joe”. Marie even chose the name “Roselle” as her stage name when she was hired to sing Italian love songs on the radio.

Miss Roselle, nightingale of the Radio

After almost twenty years together, Marie and Joe split up. By this time, Marie was a career beautician. She was fortunate enough to keep the salon and the shop’s name after she and Joe separated.

But don't worry about Marie being lonely. Soon there would be a new man in her life. Can you guess who it was? Hang on and I will tell you.

One day during the later part of the 1930’s, one of Marie’s clients, Mrs. Bernarducci, asked Marie if she would be willing to teach her son how to cut hair. Marie had trained many people how to cut hair over the years so naturally she agreed.

Head over Heels

When Mrs. Bernarducci’s son Mario arrived at the salon to begin his lessons, he was immediately attracted to his teacher even though Marie was almost 12 years older than him. And he was determined to do what he could to make his teacher notice him.

As for Marie, she chose to simply ignore his advances. To her, Mario was nothing more than a young student. Besides, she was being paid to teach him how to cut hair.

The salon was everything to Marie and she took her business very seriously. She certainly didn’t have time for any of Mario’s shenanigans.

In the 1930s beauticians wore crisp white uniforms, not unlike what a nurse would have worn. Projecting a sense of hygiene and professionalism was very important.

Marie Esposito, dressed in her whites

Women wore white uniforms, white stockings and white shoes. Their fingernails were always manicured and their hair, according to my aunt, had to be perfect at all times. Men beauticians were held to the same standards. They also wore white uniforms but were permitted to wear black pants and shoes.

It was soon after she began teaching Mario how to cut hair that Marie developed a problem that baffled her. No matter how hard she worked to keep the shop and her clothes clean, it seemed she was repeatedly getting black streaks down the back of her white stockings. This frustrated her to no end.

Finally, one day she figured it out.

It was 1939, and Mario Bernarducci, seated in the Roselle Salon, was keeping a secret.

In an attempt to play a trick on Marie, Mario, the guy who fell head over heels for his teacher, applied an extra amount of black shoe polish paste to ends of his shoes each morning. As Marie rushed around the shop checking on customers, Mario would stick his long legs out just far enough so that Marie’s legs would graze the tips of Mario’s shoes. When she finally did find out what was going on, Marie was completely furious. Mario howled with laughter.

After months of ignoring Mario’s requests to go on a date, Marie finally made a bargain with him. She agreed to go out on just one double date with him if he would agree to stop pestering her.

Her plan did not work. After that first date, Marie and Mario were inseparable.

Marie and Mario Bernarducci, wed in 1942

In 1942, Marie Esposito at the age of 40 married her student Mario Bernarducci who was just 28 at the time. They remained together until Mario’s death in March of 1982.

So now you finally know the the story of how my aunt Marie got her start in the beauty business and how she came to marry my uncle Mario.

And to think this story about Marie and Mario’s adventure all came about because of finding a photo of a sandwich girl.

So what does this have to do with a food recipe? Hang tight, we are almost there.

Just in case you are wondering, no, I am not going to tell you how to make curly fries or a sandwich board. Besides, while a sandwich board would be loaded with fiber, I can’t imagine it would be very tasty.

What I do want to tell you about are two great (and tasty) sandwich recipes that were the start of another kind of great adventure. These aren't really recipes, they are assembly instructions.

My partner Jim has arranged several trips for groups of travelers to the French Open in Paris as part of his job. I have been lucky enough to be able to go along and play the part of co–host.

Even though the tours originate in Richmond, Virginia, our flights to Europe depart out of Washington - Dulles Airport in Northern Virginia, about a two hour drive away.

Jim always says, “Your vacation begins the moment you lock your front door”. With this in mind, we wanted to do something special for the travelers while on the shuttle bus to D.C. We decided that providing a French picnic lunch on the bus to the airport, complete with some great fresh made sandwiches would do the trick.

And they did. The sandwiches got rave reviews from the travelers.

Sandwiches in France are fantastic. As a thrifty traveler, I have eaten my fair share of sandwiches while traveling.

A great sandwich starts with great bread.

Part of the reason the sandwiches I ate in France were so delicious is that the bread in France is so wonderful. The flour used to make bread in Europe contains more fat than the flour we buy in United States' grocery stores. This extra fat in the flour allows the bread to develop a wonderful, flavorful crispy crust.

Know which side your bread is buttered on.

I have heard that knowing which side your bread is buttered on refers to knowing where to place your meat when assembling a sandwich. My grandmother always buttered her bread when making a sandwich.The butter not only adds flavor, it prevents the juices from the meat from making the bread soggy, or the sandwich from drying out.

Ready to try some great sandwiches?

Rare Roast Beef, White Cheddar and Red Onion Sandwich

This sandwich was inspired by the beef I have had while dining in Paris. It has been my experience that beef in Paris is served very rare. And it is delicious.

To make this sandwich, you will need:

Sliced French Baguette or some form of sliced Crusty Rustic Bread

Rare Roast Beef slices

Slices of Very Sharp Cheddar Cheese (white or yellow)

Thinly Sliced Purple Onion

Leaf Lettuce

Sliced Tomato

Condiments Options: Soft Butter, Horseradish, Mayonnaise, or Hot Mustard (we use Colmans')

Traditionally, the bread is buttered before the sandwiches are constructed, but this is optional. When making sandwiches for a picnic, I leave the condiments off and let each person apply thier own.

Assemble the sandwiches to your liking.

For those who prefer a milder sandwich, try buttering the side of the bread the meat will go on before assembling the sandwich. Once the sandwich is put together, apply mayonnaise to the inside of the top slice of bread.

I prefer a spicy sandwich so I apply a combination of horseradish, mayonnaise and some Colmans mustard to the insides of both slices of bread before making mine. Be adventurous. Give it a try.

Turkey, Bacon, Brie and Granny Smith Apples Sandwich

This sandwich option was inspired not by France, but rather from a Richmond art gallery. I ordered the sandwich in their cafe and fell in love with it. And what could be more French than sitting in a cafe and falling in love. Oui?

Ooh la lah! Dare I say it is like a menage a trois?

You will love the interplay of the smoky, salty and sweet flavors of this sandwich.

To make this sandwich, you will need:

Rustic bread Slices that have been grilled or toasted

Sliced Turkey Breast (Smoked or Oven Roasted)

Sliced Brie (do not remove the rind)

Sliced Granny Smith Apples (do not peel)

Crisp, thick cut Hickory Smoked Bacon Slices

Condiments: Soft Butter, Mayonnaise

This sandwich starts with buttered grilled bread. If you prefer to toast the bread that also works.

To grill, lightly butter both sides of the bread slices. Brown both sides of the bread. I prefer to do this on my stove top ribbed grill rather than in a frying pan.

Once the bread is grilled, or toasted, assemble the sandwich starting with the turkey slices. Next add slices of Granny Smith Apples, then the brie slices, and lastly the bacon slices. I like to add a layer of mayonnaise to the inside of the top slice of bread, but depending on how much butter was used to make the sandwich, this may not be necessary.

I hope you will give these sandwiches a try. Who knows? When you taste them, you just might find yourself falling head over heels in love with them, just like Mario and Marie did so many years ago.

It's the Berries

I am still a member

That's me in the photo above. I was a soapbox derby racer. Our club was named the Optimist club. I am an optimist. Always have been. People used to say I was "happy go lucky". I guess that means I was always a pretty happy kid. As for the lucky part, well that is probably true too.

I think that being lucky has a great deal to do with being open to luck.

Let me give you an example. A few months ago, I got a call from a friend of mine. The call came in while I was working at my office. The cellphone coverage was so bad at the office I had to run outside or risk dropping the call. While I was outside talking on the phone I looked down and noticed a four-leaf clover.

Then I saw another. And another. By the time our conversation was over, I had collected 5 four-leaf clovers. As soon as I was through with my call, I went inside and gave the clovers to my co-workers. I figured they could use some good luck too.

One of the people I gave a clover to was amazed that I found them. "I've never found a four-leaf clover," she said. As she was saying this the sound of the lawnmowers outside almost drowned out our conversation. The grounds keepers were mowing the grass where just moments ago I had found the clovers.

"Boy , you sure were lucky to have found them when you did," she added.

Those clovers had been out there all week. Anyone could have found them. I just happened to look for them. I feel like finding those clovers had more to do with being observant than being lucky. Had I not looked down to see if I could find a four-leaf clover, even as "lucky" as I am, I would never have found them.

Many of the things we attribute to luck have more to do with initiative than luck. People who become famous, high paid movie stars are not simply lucky, they work at it. People who find gold looked for it. People who get great jobs prepare and pursue the work. In other words, we all make our own luck.

I also think that happiness is a choice we make. That might sound silly at first, but when you think about it, it really is true.

We each decide if we are willing to be happy with a situation or not. This I guess is where being an optimist come in.

Sometimes, happiness is little more than a comparison.

In 1988, I had the worst day in my life. On April 18, 1988, my wife gave birth to our stillborn daughter Emily. I have never known a sadder day in my life and to this day it is still my benchmark for what it means to be sad.

The day after Emily's birth, I found myself in a hospital elevator riding down to the first floor to fill out the papers so that my wife could be discharged. After more than nine months of planning and making dreams for the future, my wife and I would be leaving the hospital empty handed knowing that our baby daughter was lying in the hospital morgue.

It looked like it was going to be a direct ride as I was the only person in the elevator. But the elevator suddenly stopped at the floor below. The doors opened and a young hospital attendant entered the elevator.

She pushed the lobby button, leaned against the wall of the elevator and then let out a long sigh. She then looked straight at me and said, " Boy I am glad this day is over. Man, this has really been a rotten day."

I just smiled at her and said nothing. She had no way of knowing the amount of pain, suffering and turmoil I was enduring.

It was at that moment that I made a point of declaring to myself "I now know what it feels like to have a really bad day".

Furthermore I vowed that I was not going to ever again complain about having another bad day.

As I saw it, anything that happened from that moment on was going to be better by comparison. If I had a hard time or things didn't go my way, I would chalk it up to being a full day, but not a bad day. I decided that I would focus on the good things that occurred each day and be happy and grateful for them. In regard to everything else, I had to find a way to take those things in stride.

So far I have managed live this way and am a happier person for it.

Happy to be getting my big boy teeth at last!

When I was a child, there was a saying that when a woman wanted to cheer up or needed to change her outlook, she simply needed to change her hair-do or buy a new dress.

If my mom was looking for a lift, she didn't just buy a dress or change her do. She changed the arrangement of the furniture in our home. She did this so often that my dad used to say that he would never walk into a dark room because he was never sure where the furniture might be.

I wonder if Laura had a bad day?

I don't change my hair or move furniture when I want an emotional lift. I cook.

When I cook it makes me feel happy to know that soon there will be something special to enjoy. It is much the same way that making cakes make me think of birthdays and cookies make me feel like the holidays. Sometimes I cook for others to give them a lift.

For the past several weeks my mother has been house bound while recovering from back surgery. She is doing great and has been the model patient. Every day or so I stop over to say hello and either bring a baked treat or I'll make something while I visit.

As I pulled in the driveway to my parents home last week, I noticed their blackberry was bush heavy with ripe berries. As soon as I saw those berries, I made plans for them.

There are plenty for the birds and us!

While visiting with my parents, I mentioned to my mother that the blackberries were ripe. She said, "I saw them earlier today when the nurse came by. She offered to pick them for me but I told her you would be by soon and would enjoy picking them yourself." And right she was. I was able to pick a full quart of them that day.

I have always loved berry picking. Well, that is not entirely true. What I mean to say is that I have always loved the end result of berry picking.

Whether we picked pea-sized wild strawberries from the woods,

Wild Strawberries

or gathered big fat blueberries at the Roz's house when we lived in New York,

Blueberries on the bush

or suffered countless cuts and scrapes as we filled buckets of blackberries when we visited our former neighbors, the Ortiz family, in New Jersey,

Sweet treats worth the pain to harvest

the end result was usually the same. We always seemed to make fresh pies , sweet cobbler or muffins from our harvest.

Take my advice, you will be happiest if you focus on the good things like the berries and think less about the work and cuts and scrapes.

This time I decided not to make a pie or cobbler or muffins with the berries. I had other plans. This time I was going to make a cake that I had just read about.

I love my subscription to Bon Appetit magazine. Not only are the photos enticing, the recipes are easy to follow. I like that the recipes consist of the ingredients that are easy to obtain and the buyer does not need to take out a second mortgage in order to afford them. In the back of each issue they feature a section I really enjoy entitled Prep School that teaches the reader a cooking technique.

The July 2011 issue features a timely article called Berries Berries Berries on page 102. The photos alone are enough to make your mouth water, but the recipes are really the prize.

Today's recipe is a Blackberry Buttermilk Cake. It sounds so good I am sure it must be the lyrics to a love song, or soon will be.

I made this cake with the berries I picked and then presented my parents with the cake the very next day. The cake was moist with a subtle flavor that did not overpower the berries.

Blackberry Buttermilk Cake

(Courtesy of Bon Appetit, July 2011)

This recipe would work equally well with blueberries or a combination of fruits. Just be certain not to use too much fruit as the berries release juices as they cook down and can make the cake soggy if too much is used. This cake is great anytime of day, but it would be especially nice in the morning if made the evening before.

Ingredients:

• 3/4 Cup of room temperature Unsalted Butter (plus additional to grease pan and parchment paper)
• 2 1/3 Cups of sifted Cake Flour (sift flour first, then measure it)
• 2 1/2 Cups fresh Blackberries
• 1/4 Cup Sugar plus an ADDITIONAL 1 1/3 Cups of Sugar
• 1 1/2 Teaspoon of Baking Powder
• 3/4 Teaspoon Salt
• 1/2 Teaspoon of Baking Soda
• 3 large room temperature Eggs
• 2 Teaspoons of Vanilla
• 1 1/2 Teaspoon finely grated Orange zest
• 1 Cup of Buttermilk
• Powdered Sugar ( for dusting)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees and postion oven rake to the middle of the oven.

Butter a 9 to 10" springform cake pan then line the bottom of the pan with a piece of buttered parchment paper. Dust with flour the pan being sure to tap out excess flour.

Arrange the Blackberries in a single layer in the bottom of the pan. Do not over crowd the Berries. Sprinkle the Berries with 1/4 Cup of Sugar.

Sift together the 2 1/3 cups of Flour with the Baking powder, Salt and Baking Soda. Set aside.

Using an electric mixer, beat together the 3/4 cup of Butter and the 1 1/3 cups of Sugar at high speed until it becomes fluffy and pale in color. Add in the Eggs, one at a time, beating well after each addition. Beat in Vanilla and Orange zest. Reduce speed to low and add in the the Flour mixture in three separate batches, alternating with additions of the buttermilk. The batter will be thick.

Batter will be thick when added on top of the berries

Spoon the finished batter over the berries in the pan. Smooth out the batter with a spatula before placing it in the oven.

This cake takes a while to cook. After about 1 hour and 25 minutes, the cake top should be golden brown and a tester inserted into the middle should come out clean.

Once the cake is finished, allow it to cool on a wire rack for about 15 minutes. Then run a thin, sharp knife around the edge of the pan to loosen the cake from the pan. Remove the sides of the pan then invert the cake onto the wire rake. Peel off parchment.

When the cake is completely cool and you are ready to serve it, dust the top with powdered sugar.

Enjoy.

As you take your first bite of this cake, I hope you will take a moment to pause and appreciate all the good things in life that you have to be thankful for. It might be even the simplest things that can give you pleasure. Maybe it is the fact that you have a loved one with you to share the cake with. Or you can be happy that it is the time of year that you can get fresh blackberries. Perhaps it is the fact that it is raining, or sunny outside.

Our lives, no matter how full they may be, each day are filled with an infinite source of happiness. Be one of the lucky ones. Take note and enjoy your gifts.

I know I will.

After all, when singing about life, Jaye P Morgan sings, "It's the Berries."

And who knows? Maybe life is just a bowl of cherries after all.

Hmm. Cherries. Now I need to get working on a cherry recipe. Until next time....

Peanut Pals

Peanut Pals

Okay, so we all have heard that blood is thicker than water, but what does that have to do with anything? If you want to get technical, a brick is thicker than paper, but so what?

Blood is thicker than water is a German proverb (originally: Blut ist dicker als Wasser). It generally means that the bonds of family and common ancestry are stronger than those bonds between unrelated people (such as friends). It reminds us that family members need to stick together. So why don’t we just say “Glue” and be done with it?

In regard to my family, our unity can perhaps best be summed up in two words: Peanut Butter. You see it is peanut butter that seems to run in our veins and stick to the roof of our mouths.

Four Generations of Mr. Peanut

For generations Fechinos, including me, my brothers, my Dad, even my son have made peanut butter a major staple of our diets.

Elvis liked his with a Banana

You might say that I have always been kind of a renegade when is comes to certain foods. Some I like a lot, others I just can’t stand. I remember it took a great deal of courage for me as a young boy to proclaim that I did not like Peanut Butter and Jelly sandwiches. When I made this proclamation I was sure I was the only person in the world who didn’t like a PBJ. To this day I still don’t like them.

My sandwich of choice: Peanut Butter, straight up served with a cold milk chaser.

A plain peanut butter sandwich is heaven to me. A jelly and cream cheese sandwich is also divine. But mix peanut butter and jelly together on a sandwich and you can count me out. I cannot tell you how many horrified mothers innocently asked if I wanted a PBJ for lunch only to learn that PBJs grossed me out.

I really love peanut butter.

On a recent trip to visit my brother Brian, my sister-in-law Kristen demonstrated how using her little spatula, she was able to get the last bit of mayonnaise out what I thought was an empty jar. I was impressed. But, when she also indicated that she could do that same with a jar of peanut butter, I was in awe. I now have a little spatula just like theirs that I keep in my kitchen drawer for when my jar of peanut butter is nearing its final portion.

That Reese guy was a genius.

My Dad has been feeling poorly for a long time. Often he has little or no appetite. But no matter how bad Dad feels, it seems he always can manage to eat a piece of two of his favorite candy: Reese’s Peanut Butter cups.

Dad's favorite

And who can blame him? Peanut butter and chocolate is an irresistible combination.

I have always cooked for my family as an expression of my love for them.

I am not one of those people who is good about telling others how I feel about them. Like most people, talking about feelings makes me uncomfortable. Hopefully my friends and family know how much I care about them through my actions. It is a one-sided bargain I know, but it has been my MO for a long time.

When my Dad was getting Chemo treatments a few years ago in an effort to raise his platelet count, he really had a rough time. He couldn’t eat much and he was understandably depressed. I had an idea for something I thought might cheer him up. And of course my solution involved food. Hey, it’s what I do.

Taking a cue from Mr. Reese’s famous creation, each week I made Dad my take on a brownie version of a Reese’s cup. I made him brownies in a mini muffin size, filled them with peanut butter inside and then topped them with a layer of melted dark chocolate. They came out great and Dad really loved them. I like to think those little confectionary treats made a bad time a little more tolerable for him.

Let’s face it, while sending a card is very nice, giving someone a gift that includes peanut butter really shows how much you care.

From the time my son Jack was a small boy, his favorite cookies have always been peanut butter cookies. Since that time, I have baked countless batches of them for him. To this day if I know that Jack will be visiting, I'll make a fresh batch of cookies for him. Sometimes I’ll even throw some semi sweet chocolate chips into the peanut butter cookie dough just to kick it up a notch. The combination of the peanut and the chocolate is great. What can I say that I haven’t said before? That Reese guy was onto something.

Want to try something tasty? Come on. I know you do. Why don’t you make a batch of my Peanut Butter cookies so you can see what all the fuss is about?

What are you waiting for? Give them a try and get in on the fun. If you do, I’ll be your best friend... We can even be Peanut Pals!

Jack's Peanut Butter Cookies

1 ¼ Cups of All Purpose Flour

¾ Teaspoon Baking Soda

¼ Teaspoon Salt

½ Cup of Butter

¾ Cup of Chunky Peanut Butter

½ Cup of Sugar

½ Cup of Light Brown Sugar

1 Egg

½ Teaspoon Vanilla

(optional: 1 Cup of Semi-sweet Chocolate Chips)

Heat oven to 375 degrees

Add the Flour, Soda and Salt into a bowl and, using a whisk, stir them together.

In a mixing bowl, beat the Butter for about 30 seconds. Next add in the Peanut Butter and Sugars to the butter and beat until fluffy. Add in the Egg and Vanilla and then beat until combined. Add in the dry ingredients and mix until thoroughly combined.

At this point, if you want to make Peanut Butter Chocolate Chip Cookies, add in the Semi-sweet Chocolate chips. Using a small cookie scoop, form the dough into small balls and bake them on an ungreased cookie sheet in a 375 degree oven until just slightly browned (about 10 minutes or so). Cool before removing from the cookie sheet.

If you want to make traditional Peanut Butter Cookies, omit adding the Chocolate chips. Instead, shape the dough into 1-inch balls and then roll the balls in white granulated Sugar.

Place the sugar coated dough balls on an ungreased cookie sheet. Using the tines of a fork, make a crisscross pattern on each cookie. Bake the cookies in a 375 degree oven for about 10 minutes or until they are just slightly browned. Cool before removing from the cookie sheet.

I suggest you follow what Mr. Peanut says. Relax and go nuts.

I hope you will give this easy recipe a try. Until next time, remember that blood is thicker than water and, truth be told, my waist is now thicker than it used to be.

Kitty Knows Best

It was 1954 when Kitty Kallen's song poured out of radios and jukeboxes across the nation to remind us that "Little Things Mean A Lot". Like so many other couples of the day, my parents, who were still in high school at the time, adopted the song as "their song".

It is still their song after all these years.

Whether you are thinking of the small kindness you share with your loved one, or a kindness bestowed upon you from a friend or stranger, the effect is the same. Little things do mean a lot.

The day after my son Jack graduated from high school, Jim and I Jack embarked on a 10-day vacation to Las Vegas and Yosemite. The first stop on our trip was in Las Vegas where we visited with my cousin Michael Fecchino (he is a two C guy) and his family.

Michael and Pam Fecchino

I think it is fair to say that Las Vegas has become a real destination spot for foodies like me. In fact I will so far as to state that I had one of the best fish dishes I have ever eaten when we dined at Mon Ami Gabi at the Paris Hotel. But I am not going to write about that dish today. Instead I want to tell you about a dish I ate many, many years ago.

But first you need to know the back story.

My cousin Michael is my Dad’s brother Val’s son. My uncle Val (his real name was Valentino) was an incredibly handsome guy that everyone seemed to love.

Valentino (Val) Vincent Fecchino High School Photo

I really can’t tell you much about my uncle because I never got a chance to know him.

I do know that he was the first son born to my grandmother Rose Fecchino and my grandfather John Fecchino. His older sister Ida was adopted during my grandmother's first marriage.

After years of being suspected of not being able to bear children, it must have been all the more thrilling for my grandmother to give birth to such a healthy baby boy in 1927 and then be chosen to ride with her son on the Dover's Healthy Baby float in the parade.

Rose and Val Fecchino (center) 1927

Val joined the war effort and served in the Navy. But before and after WWII, he worked at the family business which included the production of ice cream as well as the sale of soft drinks and for a time candy as well.

Val in the Navy, WWII

Thanks to this postcard that my cousin Christine ( Val's daughter) gave me, I know that he was stationed for a time in San Francisco.

Val reading a letter. Could the letter have been from my aunt Nancy?

In June of 1945, my uncle married the beautiful Nancy Dare Gholden. They were, to say the least, a most attractive couple.

Nancy and Val Fecchino, married June 26, 1945

Val and Nancy had two children, Mary Christine ( who we all call Chris) and Michael John (who we call Michael).

What little I can tell you about Val is that he enjoyed photography. Many of the family photos I treasure most in some way or another share a connection to him. It is a passion that Val passed onto his son Michael. The photo below is presumably a self portrait that Val took.

Val Fecchino self Portrait.

Though my Dad and uncle worked together at the family bowling alley, Creamo Lanes, when I was very young, I can only recall meeting my uncle Val once when he and my aunt Nancy, along with my cousin Michael, came to visit us while we were living in Schenectady New York.

Even though I was just a kid when I last saw my aunt and uncle, I can recall how glamorous my aunt was. I also remember how dark and handsome my uncle Val was.

Val and his son-in-law Chet McPhail

My cousin Michael was (and still is) very charismatic. Because my Dad, like his brother Val, also loved photography, when Michael came to visit, my Dad gave Michael an antique camera that he had. Years later, Michael returned the favor.

Michael Fecchino in his younger days

Michael for years had been a professional photographer and even owned several photo lab operations.

While visiting with Michael and his wife Pam, it was mentioned that my son Jack was also into photography. Jack was particularly into film photography.

The photo labs are closed now and Michael found himself downsizing. He had a 4 by 5 camera and offered it to Jack. What an incredibly generous gesture! Once again, one generation passed down a camera to the next.

Sadly what I remember most about my uncle Val is the time he died. The year was 1972 and Val was just 48 years old. I was in the kitchen with my Mom when she got a call from Ohio telling her that my uncle Val had suffered a heart attack. I recall my mother calling my Dad at work telling him to come home. And I remember how devastated both my parents were.

I also remember a small but loving gesture that one of our neighbors performed to show her support. That neighbor was our next-door neighbor, Jo Middleton. But I always just called her Mrs. Middleton.

Jo Middleton

Mrs. Middleton, her husband Larry, and their three children Laurie, Leslie and Lonnie lived next door to us on Newell Road in Schenectady. As a family, we were pretty close to the Middletons. Mom and Jo were friends, Laurie and I were friends, my brother Steven and Leslie were friends and Lonnie and my brother Brian were friends.

When Mrs. Middleton learned of my uncle Val’s passing, she did the neighborly thing of sending food over to our house to show her support. I was just 10 years old at the time. I am sure Mrs. Middleton thought nothing more of it than a loving gesture. But more than 39 years later, I can still remember the dish. Isn’t it nice to think that a small gesture can be so fondly remembered after so many years?

When I started this blog, I wrote to Laurie Middleton (now Smalley) to ask if she thought her mom would be willing the share the recipe. Laurie wrote back and told me that her mom had to search for the recipe, but would be happy to share it.

When I picked up our mail after returning from vacation, I found a small turquoise envelope sent from Mrs. Middleton that included a nice note and her recipe for Ham and Broccoli Strata tucked inside. You see it was her Ham and Broccoli Strata that she made for my family way back in 1972.

Admittedly, these days it is not difficult to find a good Strata recipe on the Internet or in any recipe book for that matter. But this is the recipe for the first Strata that I ever had tasted and I still remember it fondly. I hope you like it too.

With my gratitude to Mrs. Middleton, I have the pleasure of sharing her recipe with you.

Jo Middleton’s Ham and Broccoli Strata

Start with:

18 slices of white bread

1 pound of shredded sharp cheddar cheese

1/2 pound of chopped or sliced ham

1 pound of frozen chopped broccoli pieces

1 stick of room temperature butter

Cut the crusts off of the 18 slices of white bread and then butter each slice.

Arrange 9 slices of the buttered bread in the bottom of a buttered 13 x 9 pan.

Cover the buttered slices of bread with 1/3 pound of shredded sharp cheddar cheese.

Next add a layer of 1/4 pound of chopped or sliced ham.

Next add a layer of frozen chopped broccoli (about 1/2 of the one pound bag).

Cover the broccoli layer with 9 more slices of the buttered bread.

Cover the buttered slices of bread with a 1/3 pound more of shredded sharp cheddar cheese.

Add another layer of ham.

Top the layer with the remaining frozen chopped broccoli.

Combine:

6 Eggs

2 Cups of Milk

½ Teaspoon of prepared Mustard

½ Teaspoon of Salt

Whisk together the Eggs, Milk, Mustard and Salt and then pour over the bread, cheese, ham and broccoli layers.

Top with the remaining 1/3 pound of shredded sharp cheddar cheese.

Bake in a 350-degree oven for 30 to 45 minutes depending on your oven.

While I confess that I wanted to share the recipe for the Strata that Mrs. Middleton made, that was not the sole purpose of writing this post. What I wanted acknowledge were how even after all these years, I still appreciate Mrs. Middleton’s act of kindness. For after all these years it is her acts of kindness that I will never forget. The Strata was just one example.

If she saw me outside in my yard, she would yell across the lawn, “John, quick! What is 6 time 7?” just to make sure I knew my multiplication tables.

She also knew how much I loved history. Mrs. Middleton taught me about antiques. She would call me over to her house to see the latest treasure she had found and then take the time to teach me all about it and even explain why it was special.

You see, little things really do mean a lot.

I hope that when you finish reading this post, you will be inspired to do something nice for someone else. It doesn’t even have to be a big thing. And it certainly doesn’t have to include food. Just remember, sometimes even the smallest act of kindness can make the biggest difference.

As a footnote, I an happy to report that in addition to Laurie and I getting back in touch, after an more than a 30-year absence, my Mom and Mrs. Middleton are also once again corresponding. And thanks to facebook, my brother Brian and Lonnie are also back in touch with each other.