2 1/ 2 lbs red potatoes
3 tablespoons margarine
3 tablespoons butter
1 large onion
1. Oven 350 degrees.
2. Leave red skins on potatoes. Scrub the skins under running
water to remove any dirt.
Cut potatoes into quarters or cube. Place in a 9 x 13 pan.
3. Slice onion and mix with potatoes. Toss around.
4. Cut the margarine and butter into pieces and place on top
of potatoes and onions.
5. Sprinkle generously paprika over all the potatoes and
6. Bake in oven 1 and 1/ 2 hours. Every 1/ 2 toss pull pan out
and with a spatula or large spoon, toss the potatoes and
onions. Add more paprika every time you toss.
7. Serve immediately from the oven and make sure to scrape
the bottom for the good crunchy pieces.
8. ENJOY! – These “new” potatoes will be old and gone
Have you ever met a person who didn’t love roasted potatoes?
My home is never without a potato; it is usually white, gold or your standard Idaho. When I want some comfort on a cold winter’s day, I slice a little onion, add olive oil, butter, salt, pepper, and fresh rosemary, and I sit back and savor the flavor!
Today’s recipe is all about the red potato. I prepare this baby a little differently by adding paprika instead of fresh rosemary – there’s something special about that combination as it sits so well on the taste buds. I also choose to leave their skins on – I just give the potatoes a good scrubbing before quartering and cooking. Interestingly, not everyone is fond of eating potatoes with their skins. My cousins from Italy visited over the holidays and joined me at my cousin, Steven’s home. Steven and his lovely wife, Trish, served a delicious lunch which included roasted red potatoes complete with skins. Our Italian cousins were rather surprised that we were eating potatoes with their skins on, but politely ate them – skins and all.
Family history has always fascinated me, and I began to seriously research mine about 6 years ago. I started by contacting the few remaining relatives, attempting to find information about my grandparents. So far, my grandfather, Giuseppe, my father’s father, has been the most successful to trace. His sister, my Aunt Peggy, sent me an address of her 1st cousin, Melvina. I wrote to Melvina and, bingo, she answered me through her daughter, Marietta. This letter set me on the most direct route to connecting with more cousins than I could imagine. In addition, I had been in contact via email with Nicla in Italy who spoke and wrote English and worked for City Hall Department of Records in Pescara. In the meantime, Melvina. who lived in Arizona with Marietta, was heading to New York for a visit. Two years ago, I finally met Melvina, Marietta, and her sister, Margie, at my home for a luncheon. As Melvina entered my home she immediately noticed the large family group photograph taken in the ‘40’s of my grandparent’s family and friends. Melvina saw herself, her brothers and parents in the photograph and began to cry, “Why do you have a picture of my family?” I started to cry, “Because it’s my family.” After a good cry and a group hug, we enjoyed lunch, exchanged some family stories about my grandparents and vowed to keep in touch. Marietta and I continue to connect via holiday cards and emails.
A second reunion occurred last summer which I attended with my brother, Jimmy, and Melvina, Marietta, and Margie at my cousin Steven’s house. As I mentioned, Steven’s wife Trish and I are both working on family histories. After the reunion, Trish and I continued to compare notes on the family history through email. One day, I got an email from Trish, “Mariann, you will not believe this, but a cousin from Italy contacted Steven and will visit New York over the holidays.” I couldn’t contain my excitement. “Could I meet them, if possible, even for an hour?” I begged Trish. As the visit from the cousins from Italy approached, Trish emailed me, “Would you like to join us for lunch?” Of course, I would be there! The pieces of the puzzle of my family were fitting together and this opportunity might not come again. The anticipation when I walked into Steven and Trish’s home was overwhelming. Standing around the table were 7 relatives from Italy with black & white photos of not only my grandfather, Giuseppe, but my father, Jackie (Jacamo) and my brother, Jimmy. My grandfather must have mailed them to his brother, Antonio, in Italy over 55 years ago. Antonio’s son, Pietro, must have passed them on to his children, Carla and Renata, who were at that moment standing next to me in Steven’s kitchen.
Life has a funny way of gifting you with special moments. Meeting my cousins, here in New York, from Long Island and Italy was definitely a high point in my life. I am grateful to be a member of such a smart, gracious, funny and warm family. The saga continues, and I for one am looking forward to the next family history entry and seeing my recently discovered cousins again!