I'm French and Native American, what the Hell do I know about Bricole?
Mr. Fantastics Aunt, whom I love lives with Grandmama, whom I also love. These are some strong, no nonsense women who are so full of life and love they are about bursting at the seams. It is a extreme pleasure to spend time with them. And very shortly they will be moving much, much closer, so we are all thrilled at the idea of more time together. But I digress, back to the recipe, Mr. Fantastics Aunt made Bricole pronounced (bra-shole). Mr. Fantastic had one bite and practically begged me to learn how to make it. He asks so little, who am I to refuse a man his rolled steak. So I made the call, I wrote it down, relax, to destroy later of course. Then I shopped, I don't eat red meat so this was interesting.... And one tiny question sparked the attention and stories of about twenty people behind the meat counter which compelled them to tell me about their grandmothers recipe and how each one is different. So one short trip to the store, became a hour long story telling session, but just like any other Italian tradition, the food always follows. Out came the coffee and cookies, and some how two glasses of milk materialized in the hands of my children whom were sitting patiently, listening to the stories. Not a bad way to spend an afternoon...
Finally I headed home with my bags full of ingredients and my head full of advice and I managed not to totally screw it up.... See?
I made a turkey one too, not bad....
By the way there is a perfectly good reason why I haven't been posting as much, and here she is:
Pippin is NEEDY!!!! Every time I sit down to write to you all, she insists of having some of my attention. Honestly, who could refuse this???