Hearts in Chicago
Hillary has one of those families that some people can only dream about. Large family gatherings involve making one meal, eating it, finishing it, then saying, “ok, what do we want to cook next?”
“When I go see my folks, we’ll invite a bunch of people over to their house, and I’ll cook all day.” Hillary told me. “And they’re like, ‘are you sure you want to do all that work?’ and I’m like heck yeah I do.” She and her husband Clint will start cooking, and eventually rope her parents in as prep cooks.
Hillary works as a pastry chef in Portland, OR. We got to know each other while she was my boss. We quit around the same time, and decided we should be pals. She’s a wealth of food and history knowledge, and also makes good jokes, so she’s one of my favorite people to grab a drink with and have a nice, long, wandering chat.
Click here for the recipe for Stuffed Artichokes
We got together recently to talk about her late grandmother, Rosetta (Rose) Skittone Urban, and to make her recipe for Stuffed Artichokes – an Urban family Christmas favorite.
ROSE’S LIFE IN CHICAGO
Rose Skittone was born in Chicago in 1929. She married Richard Urban, and they made a life together in the northern suburbs of Chicago, in the village of Mt. Prospect. They were one of the first people to build houses there, which Hillary described as a classic 1950s house that had a small dining room – to start.
“They kept having to expand the dining room in their house.” Hillary explained. Their family grew from four children, to 11 grandchildren, and expanded to great grand-children.
Though Hillary’s father and mother relocated to Texas, where she grew up, every summer she would spend a few weeks in Chicago with her grandparents, as well as always getting together for the holidays. The holidays were always the most exciting day of the year: all of your favorite people and all of your favorite food in one room.
“It would be a 3 hour meal, then we would clear off the table and games would come out.”
Rose and Dick Urban were social butterflies and very active in their work and community. Dick owned a machine shop, which he later sold. After Rose’s four children were grown, she went to nursing school, then began working in the NICU of Chicago Children’s Memorial Hospital.
“She was very, very proud to help intensive care premature babies.” Hillary told me. “She was in the newspaper one time, and they had the article framed on the wall in their house.” Hillary remembers the newspaper article lovingly, and seeing her grandma in a classic nurse’s hat, surrounded by tiny babies.
She was also very active at her local Catholic parish, and founded The Rosary Maker’s Club, which is still active at the parish. A recent estimate from the parish is that the Rosary Club has made nearly a quarter million rosaries since Rose founded it.
THE RICH HISTORY OF ITALIANS IN CHICAGO
In the 19th century, Italy was undergoing great political changes. There were many moves to unify the separate kingdoms on the peninsula, and create a single Kingdom of Italy. Some say this was accomplished by 1861 (when the US accepted a unified Italy), but others say this was never meaningfully accomplished until after WWII. Massimo d’Azeglio, a prime minister of Sardinia in the 1850s, was famously quoted making a tidy assertion during those troubled times, “We have made Italy; now we must make Italians.”
Life and taxes drastically changed for the poorer, working classes of Italy after unification, especially in the south of Italy and Sicily. According to And They Came to Chicago, a documentary about Italian immigration, the newly formed centralized government served the interests of very few, and imposed debilitating taxes on the working class. For example, a tax on a working man’s donkey was imposed, while a nobleman’s horse would escape taxation. This sort of injustice led 1/3 of Italy’s population to migrate, many of who came to America, and most never returned.
Chicago was a growing city in the 19th century, and with the promise of plentiful factory work, many Italians took the long train ride from Ellis Island to Chicago and began new lives in The Windy City. The work wasn’t easy, and neither were their lives, but the Italian American population in Chicago grew steadily. By 1920, 50% of Chicago Heights was ethnically Italian, and the Near North Side neighborhood had over 20,000 Italian-American residents.
Italian-Americans eventually owned businesses, formed their own churches, had their own newspaper and radio, and eventually elected Italian-Americans into office and were able to represent their needs in local government. But the reputation of Al Capone and the Black Hand in Chicago, caused many Italian-Americans to be unfairly stereotyped, and often treated as if they were all criminals. Though proud of their heritage, many immigrants had to live their lives with caution.
Rose’s parents, Frank and Josephine Skittone, were part of a large family and community who had relocated to Chicago from Sicily. Rose’s family made the move north of Chicago to put a little distance between themselves and some of the darker ties their family had to their homeland.
“My family came from the side that said, ‘no, we’re not going to keep going [in La Cosa Nostra], but they had relatives who stayed in the family.” Hillary told me.
Being on this side of history of the Godfather trilogy, Goodfellas, and the Sopranos, it’s far too easy to get excited about someone’s dark, mafioso-laced family history (and we did have at least a 15 minute tangent into our favorite scenes from the Godfather. THOSE ARE SOME FINE FILMS.)
But, to understand this family, it’s critically important to separate Hollywood-injected associations of Cosa Nostra, and the reality of a family in early 20th century Chicago, trying to keep themselves safe and assimilate into American culture.
Chicago greatly benefited from the influx of Italian people who made it home. They were woven into the fabric of the place, as they helped build one of America’s biggest cities. Fortunately, Italian-Americans have been able to hold on to their heritage, language, festivals, and food. You can find traditional Italian food all over Chicago and its suburbs, as well as Italian-American classics like the Italian beef sandwich (served hot with au jus and piled high with giardiniera) and the Chicago deep-dish pizza.
IT’S BEGINNING TO SMELL A LOT LIKE CHRISTMAS
Christmas was held at their house, and Rose would make a Stuffed Artichoke for each member of the family, and usually an additional artichoke for them to take home – meaning this grandma was making upwards of 36 stuffed artichokes every Christmas.
Artichokes, no matter what way you slice them, really take some time to cook. Baking 36 artichokes is no small task, in regards to labor AND oven space. Rose combated this problem by installing an additional oven in her basement that was dubbed the “artichoke oven.” Every Christmas she’d load up the artichoke oven to help ease the burden – which I’m sure felt like no burden at all to her.
She made the artichokes as an appetizer to kick off the party. I love imagining a large family sitting down, each with their own artichokes, buzzing with excitement as they race to get to the center (though, I should note, I asked Hillary, like five times, if they would race to the center of the artichoke, and she clarified that they did not. It sounds much more healthy to take your time, but also…racing!) A stuffed artichoke feels like a treasure in your hand: a mysterious and tasty labyrinth you have to dig your way into, getting more and more tender as you go. Once you’re all the way in, licking your fingers, you get a meaty reward. It’s quite the opening act for a party.
MAKING THE ARTICHOKES
Click here to go to the recipe for Stuffed Artichokes
There’s a lot to love about this recipe, but here are my 2 favorite parts:
- Smacking – when we decided to make this recipe, I texted Hillary: “It’s been a minute since I took apart an artichoke. Don’t make fun of me.” She responded, “Oh, don’t worry. We’ll do it the opposite way they teach you in school. Gramma style. It involves smacking.” My worry turned to excitement. After cutting off the tip of the artichoke, the idea is to smack the artichoke, cut side, to open up the leaves so you can fit all your stuffing in. Depending on how fresh and tender your artichoke is, it can take a good couple of smacks. However, don’t be crazy: Hillary has broken an artichoke before by smacking too hard, (which is hilarious). Click here for a link to an Instagram video of her teaching me to smack an artichoke.
- Rotation – It felt very meditative to rotate the artichoke round and round in a bowl, stuffing each leaf with bread crumb, anchovy goodness – like you’re filling a little vessel with secrets. As it is made, so is it eaten – round and round, pulling off leaves and uncovering the little breadcrumbs stuffed inside, and using your teeth to pull off a little bit of artichoke meat on the bottom of the leaf.
When Hillary went to culinary school, she pulled “Artichokes” out of a hat for her vegetable final. She remembers all her fellow students feeling sorry for her and saying “you’re screwed!”
And she might have been, but she called up Grandma Rose and got the recipe and some tips for Stuffed Artichokes, and she nailed it.
THE SEARCH FOR THE “LOST GRANDMA FLAVOR”
Hillary has made a few changes to her grandma’s original recipe over the years. The changes are small tweaks: zesting a lemon into the filling, adding salt to the poaching water. These changes came about because she felt like, when she was making the artichokes at her house the past few years, they were just missing something, and they didn’t taste quite like how she remembered them.
“I decided it was okay to make these changes,” she explained, “because when I ate them at Grandma’s it was with all my favorite people in the same room, and it was the best day ever, and Grandma had made them, and that made the artichokes taste that good. But when I’m just making them by myself on a Wednesday night, they need a little zazz.”
This phenomenon sounded familiar to me. I hadn’t heard it spelled out so clearly before, but I hear this “search for the lost Grandma flavor” often in my interviews. It’s speculation about what a Grandma threw into the mix that no one noticed, or a secret technique she never shared, or an ingredient no longer available. The Lost Grandma Flavor could certainly be a combination of those three things, but I really think Hillary is onto something: our understanding of food is so impacted by the emotions surrounding it that it makes it taste better. When we remember eating these foods, our emotions are so inextricably linked to the event, that it becomes a part of the flavor, and how we remember the food tasting for the rest of our lives.
Good chefs (usually) know this. They try and set the mood and tempo for the meal by place setting, decoration, music, and the story they tell about their food. The mood surrounding the food is as much a part of the flavor as the amount of salt in a dish.
However, the memories of family meals, which are so often facilitated by a grandma or matriarchal figure, are so entrenched in our minds as the benchmark for good food – and I think restaurants have a hard time competing with that sensation.
I hope it brings comfort to know that every time we recreate the past, we’re creating a new meaningful moment of food history. When Hillary adds lemon zest to Stuffed Artichokes, she’s making her grandma’s artichokes, as well as her own. As literally as it could be meant, we are what we eat… and what we eat becomes us.
Thank you so much to the Urban & Skittone family for sharing the life, recipes & pictures of Rose with me. Rose passed away earlier this year, and she is dearly missed. It’s such an honor to hear the stories and memories surrounding delicious food, and loving people.