Hungers for tradition of passing down recipes

Written by Joe Pisani
Tuesday, 26 October 2010 22:30

My friend Joan came to work last week and gave me a newspaper clipping about the Meatball Madness competition in New York City. It proved to me once again that a good meatball is hard to find — even worse, an endangered delicacy.

The world has changed since the days my mother slaved over the stove, frying meatballs and letting them simmer for hours in homemade sauce until they were cooked to perfection and became certifiable, 100 percent genuine Italian meatballs.

At the competition, there were dozens of alleged meatballs made from weird recipes that included venison, wild boar and ostrich. The winner was a “meatball slider” on potato focaccia, which sounded like something nomads eat in the Sahara desert when there’s a shortage of camel burgers.

Sisterhood has its benefits, even for brothers

Written by Joe Pisani
Tuesday, 19 October 2010 22:30

Even though I have two wonderful sisters, I never appreciated them as much as I should have when I was growing up, probably because they’re 13 years younger, so we never hung out into the early hours of the morning, falling off bar stools, getting into brawls and doing the fun things that brothers do together.

When we were young, I’d say, “Hey, girls, let’s go for a few beers,” but they always wanted to take their Barbie dolls. How can you meet chicks when you have your kid sisters tagging along, clutching their Barbies, a shoebox full of doll clothes and a bag of Starburst?

Where’s your sense of humor?

Written by Joe Pisani
Tuesday, 12 October 2010 23:00

The other day I was at the traffic light, minding my own business, when some lunatic pulled up beside me and starting waving his arms, swearing and yapping like a rabid Chihuahua that just drank a double caramel macchiato.

(I always get into trouble minding my own business. As a kid, whenever I got into trouble and told my mother I was minding my own business, she responded with a resounding “WHACK!”)

“What is this nut screaming about?” I wondered, but as I was about to roll down my window and start swearing back, he drove away. God bless America.

A recent survey said seven out of 10 Americans think the country is getting ruder and less civilized. Rudeness is rampant. Psychopaths swear at you for no apparent reason. Train commuters talk nonstop on their cell phones. People blow smoke in your face. No one gets up to let a pregnant woman sit down. Waiters act like that nasty blowhard on American Idol, and some nut wants to push you on the subway tracks for wearing a Red Sox cap.

Still hip — when they’re not napping

Written by Joe Pisani
Wednesday, 06 October 2010 23:00

While I was at a Jackson Browne concert recently, a middle-aged couple fell asleep after two songs and snored the rest of the evening. It reminded me of my tormented nights in the Fordham dorm circa 1972, listening to my roommate snore like a bear in hibernation — so loud I had to restrain myself from putting a pillow over his head.

I suppose it’s a sign of the times now that Baby Boomers — 76 million Americans born between 1946 and 1964 — start turning 65 on Jan. 1. Our values have changed, and we appreciate a good nap more than anything else, except maybe a tall glass of Metamucil.

Would-be farmer bears with nature

Written by Joe Pisani
Tuesday, 28 September 2010 23:00

During my commute into Manhattan, I often fantasize about my next life as a “gentleman farmer,” growing fruits and vegetables, tooling around on my tractor, making home brew, shoveling manure (well, maybe not that) and living off the land. These are the things Baby Boomers daydream about when their 401(k)s are on life support.

To nurture this fantasy, I’ve planted 70 blueberry bushes in New Hampshire to the dismay of my family, who fear my next agricultural adventure will be a pig pen or chicken coop.

Yearning for la dolce vita

Written by Joe Pisani
Tuesday, 21 September 2010 23:00

A few years ago, my friend Hugh Mulligan of the Associated Press was wandering around Venice when he stumbled upon the Palazzo Pisani on the Grand Canal.

“I bet you’re an aristocrat,” he told me.

“You think?”

“Those are your ancestors, and you probably have a lot of lire waiting for you in a bank on the Rialto.”

I got to fantasizing: Joe Pisani of Pine Rock Park lineage was really Giuseppe Pisani, an Italian aristocrat, and once I got my inheritance, I could become one of those wealthy playboys who wear purple shirts with padded suits made of Spandex and go to parties in gondolas and purr “Ciao, Bella” to the signorinas, while snacking on raw garlic.

Can’t hide what doctor’s scale reveals

Written by Joe Pisani
Friday, 17 September 2010 08:55

The hardest part of my annual physical — there were several, but the one that shocked me the most was when my doctor announced, “You gained weight.”

Was I developing a muffin top, or were my rippling muscles making me put on pounds? Or did the nurse read the scale wrong?

“Doc,” I protested, “she weighed me with my clothes on.”

“She did last year too.”

Seize the moments that come along

Written by Joe Pisani
Tuesday, 07 September 2010 23:00

On the way to Whitefield, N.H., where Route 116 is bordered by birches that stand along the road like sentinels — their white bark peeling and their delicate leaves fluttering as you drive past — you’ll pass an open pasture, surrounded by a barbed wire fence and a windbreak.

And if you look across the field in early autumn — but only in early autumn — you’ll see a swamp maple in brilliant burgundy that’s always the first tree to change color.

Time for another kind of bailout

Written by Joe Pisani
Tuesday, 31 August 2010 23:00

A fellow on the train platform in his mid-50s says he’s going to retire in a few months so he can dedicate himself to the higher pursuits in life like golf, sailing and arguing with his wife.

I figure I’ll be working for another decade or more, depending on the number of weddings I have to pay for. On the other hand, I guess you could say I’ve taken “early retirement” because I already argue with my wife, so all I’m missing is golf clubs and a sailboat.

Growing evidence shows: Prayer works

Written by Joe Pisani
Tuesday, 17 August 2010 23:00

As I wandered to the back of the train in search of air conditioning, I came upon an Orthodox Jewish fellow saying his prayers. I figured that was a good sign, so I sat down near him for my trip into the city. Some commuters, however, looked at him a little suspiciously and kept their distance.

Prayer in public makes us uneasy, and it has become an increasingly contentious issue — from those subversive prayers at graduations and high school football games to the rosaries that pro-lifers say outside abortion clinics; not to mention the contretemps over a court ruling that claimed the National Day of Prayer in America, which begun when Truman was President, is unlawful.