that I had mastered during my quest for sobriety. The entire sensory experience somehow gave me just enough of a diversion that while I was cooking I didn’t crave booze. I could get through anything as long as I could mix, chop, fry, bake, and boil.
At times I even fantasized about writing a cookbook for recovering alcoholics that praised the therapeutic benefits of meal preparation using olives and olive oil. I would call it: One Olive at a Time. . . a cook’s guide to addiction recovery.
Of course, I’d have to add a few side notes. It wouldn’t be just recipes. The recovering alcoholic would have to know which meals to prepare during their various levels of alcohol need. Take, for instance, after a mother’s visit. Depending on the amount of mother intrusion, the stress factor might only be a level one. Thirty minutes in the kitchen along with a twenty-minute eating fest should be all that was required.
However, I sometimes had a real problem during the actual meal. Swapping out a hearty red wine for sparkling water could be a hardship for some people—especially for a good Italian girl like me who grew up thinking wine was just another fruit juice—but determination would win out. And like me, the recovering cook would sit at his or her table, pour the sparkling water, and prepare themselves to indulge in my all time favorite breakfast.
I breathed in the seductive aroma of onions, olives and cheese. My mouth watered as I twirled the steaming pasta on my fork, which was pressed up against a spoon, the only way to successfully twirl slippery linguini.
“Umm,” I moaned aloud right before I took my first bite.
That’s when my stomach flipped, cramped and generally turned into a ball of pain.
Dickey!
Just thinking about him ruined my appetite. I got up, slid my plate into the fridge, popped a couple antacids, and started up my laptop to check out flights to Hawaii. I found one on Travelocity that left Sunday night from SFO at ten-thirty. I bought the flight and an extravagant hotel room right on the beach in Maui. I told myself that no matter what happened I was getting on that plane, and nothing or no one was going to stop me.
Pasta a la Gloria - Level One or Two
2 cups of cooked fresh linguini
1 clove garlic, crushed and chopped
1 tbs. finely chopped onion
2 to 4 tbs. chopped cilantro, depending on your palate
1/4 tsp. salt
1/2 chunked avocado
1 Roma tomato (chop half, reserve the rest)
2 tbs. Sevillano EVOO
1 to 2 tbs. Gaeta pitted olives (or olive of choice)
2 tbs. freshly grated Parmesan cheese
1 tbs. chopped spring onions (optional, but more chopping is always good)
1 tsp chopped fresh Italian parsley (optional, but again…)
1/2 tsp. hot pepper flakes (optional, but hot peppers act as a stimulant)
Hot-pepper blend EVOO
You can use cold linguini or linguini that has been cooked for about three minutes. Fresh linguini cooks faster than packaged linguini, and if you want to turn this dish into a level three need, make your own pasta. *Recipe follows. Fry the garlic in a pan with the oil until the aroma of the garlic permeates the air. Do not let it brown. Add the spices and cook for less than a minute, savoring the sights and smells. Add the pasta with about 1/8 cup pasta water or tap water. Flip and mix to get all the flavors to penetrate the pasta. Add the avocado and chopped tomato to the pan to heat through. Give it another flip and serve in a flat green, white or yellow bowl. Garnish with the mixture of cheese, cilantro, and the chopped Gaeta olives, or any mild flavorful olive. Drizzle on the hot pepper oil. Slice up the remaining fresh tomato and place it in the center of the pasta a la Gloria with a sprig of parsley or cilantro or both. Presentation is key. This dish is perfect anytime you’re feeling tense, and can also be used as a reward on a Sunday morning to congratulate yourself for having made it through yet another Saturday night, stone sober. There’s enough for two, so share the fun.
TWO
Whose Land Is This, Anyway?
I drove my cherry-red pickup down Arnold Drive through Glen Ellen, turned on Madrone Road passing Valley of the Moon winery, then turned right onto Highway 12 toward the city of Sonoma. The grapevines along the highway were in full autumn glow, with more dazzling shades of yellow, bright orange and sienna than most years.