Easter for the Italians

This year, my mom, brother and I embraced our Sicilian/Puglian* ancestry by preparing an Italian feast for Easter dinner.

Three people in a smallish kitchen working with knives, boiling water, and an abundance of garlic was a stressful, fun, and aromatic experience. Despite the commotion, we managed to fill the dining room table with Chicken Marsala, garlic bread, green beans, cantaloupe with prosciutto, roasted potatoes with sea salt and rosemary, and Tiramisu.

For the Chicken Marsala, I turned to the master, Martha Stewart. She writes to the masses, so we had no trouble following her recipe instructions. I salivate for this marsala sauce. Its tangy, sweet flavor excites me, and I believe our dinner guests found it just as delicious.

I particularly enjoyed preparing the Tiramisu, mostly because the recipe calls for Khalua and espresso, wonderfully seductive ingredients.

Preparing this recipe enthused me more than consuming the final product. I loved whipping the egg whites, cream cheese, and sugar into oblivion. Also lady fingers are just fun, especially since they were somewhat hard to find in the grocery store.

I believe that most Tiramisu recipes call for marscapone cheese as a main ingredient in the white, creamy layer of this dish. However, the recipe we used called for a creamy layer made of cream cheese, sugar, and egg whites. Upon serving, I found this layer to be runny and less satiating than a marscapone mixture. Did my disappointment stop me from enjoying a second slice? No.

Between cooking, socializing, and drinking wine and champagne (I popped the cork myself!), I injured myself. In haste, I removed from the oven a baking sheet with a too-thin oven mit. A blister appeared on my thumb moments after a slew of expletives left my mouth.

I spent Easter dinner using my left hand to cut my food while an ice pack rested on my bloody stump of a finger (am I being dramatic again?).

*Revised from Laterzian to Puglian

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