I know I often refer to myself as “The Meatball King of New Jersey,” and I’m definitely working to truly own that distinction, along with my Johnny Meatballs nickname. The whole “celebrity chef” title is used pretty loosely nowadays, and it’s something that often refers more to a cook’s entertainment value and “name brand” marketability than their culinary training or expertise.

See, I may be striving to get my own cable series, but the meatballs are not just some gimmick, I truly take pride in everything I make—even though my training is self-taught and based on lots of trial and error. Whether you are a novice or professional, on television or just a star of your own kitchen, you have to cook with confidence and personalize the plate.

People ask me what distinguishes one TV chef from another and one recipe that appears in one cookbook from another. I often wondered this myself, and trying to keep up with the various different celebrity chefs on all the networks can be a difficult task. There are new ones coming along all the time, and we see them presenting the classics done classically (with new twists), as well as unique originals that one would never think would work on a dish (some of them do, some don’t.) The TV chefs bring their own spins on recipes. If they didn’t, and were just duplicating something exactly how someone else did it, or directly out of a book, what would make them special? An original culinary point of view (P.O.V.) must always be established.

Now, some of the competition shows out there do only pick chefs based on technical merit (like Gordon Ramsay, who never would allow a contestant to advance if they served a piece of raw chicken like season six’s “Next Food Network Star” winner did.) But I actually applaud the selection committee for not playing it safe like they did last year. This year’s winner at least brings something interesting to the table with the whole mainstreaming of Indian cuisine concept. Time will tell if her skills will make her “paarti” one worth attending. Viewers seem smart enough to want someone who is unique but also has real cooking chops (like fan-voted Guy Fieri who is obviously the most successful winner from the show’s history). Guy has the best of both worlds—a definite unique personality but he’s also a true pro who knows his stuff.

Whenever I cook something, I always make things “Johnny-fied” (as well as figure out a way to somehow Italian-ize a non-Italian dish). When I use the word “recipe,” it is somewhat of a loose term, because since I am not a baker—when I cook—I “eye-ball” a lot of the ingredients (unlike baking, which requires an exact science). So when I give instructions in recipes like, “2 tablespoons” or “add spices,” those measurements are approximate. The tablespoons are usually “glugs” from the bottle, and the spices are as many pinches or handfuls that you like. Everything is “to taste,” and keep in mind, my recipes are just frameworks and guidelines.

You have to taste as you go, and from time to time, I will even deviate from my own guidelines, and add in more or less of certain things—or incorporate new things altogether. Certain shortcuts can be ok—Giardiniera and other jarred Italian specialties are great to include, however you have to be careful so as not to get lazy or to sell out like too many of the TV chefs do. The macaroni may not always be made fresh, but the sauce (or gravy) should always be. Ragu is one jar that sickens me to see in anyone’s kitchen. And I am not a “nuker.” But I’ll get more into that later.

I am a very creative person, so therefore, I encourage creativity in making all recipes one’s “own.” Here’s an example that may annoy a “purist”: sometimes if shredded mozzarella is called for (let’s say in a lasagna), I actually mix in some Vermont sharp white cheddar. Nobody would know this just by looking, but that little zing adds in a Johnny-fied surprise.

When I used to distribute olive oil and fine imports to restaurants and other food service establishments, I always tasted different dishes at my stops. Some of the things I enjoyed were similar to what my mom or grandmothers made, and some were new things I never tried before. Then, I’d come home and do my own takes on those foods. To give you an example, my Italian lineage is traced to the mainland, and arancine (riceballs) are Sicilian, so I never ate them growing up at home—I only had them at pizzerias or the feasts. The first time I cooked them, I followed a somewhat non-traditional idea I learned from an Italian deli owner on one of my deliveries, which included using diced pan-fried prosciutto, as opposed to the usual ground beef inside. I took that a step even further and used diced pan-fried prosciutto, salami AND pepperoni. My parents loved them, and I actually found myself for once in the unique position of sharing one of my own dishes with my mom—instead of the other way around. Since then, it’s normal for us to swap recipes and food dishes.

As I explained in my June Tastebook article, “Authentic Imports & The Examination of Chicken Parm,” my opinion is that as long as you are cooking with the freshest of ingredients and have name brand loyalty to the highest level of REAL imported items, you can never question the quality or integrity of the dish—or the heart and care that went into it. I tinkered with my meatball recipe many times over the past several years, but I finally have it set now. I take a little of my mom’s influences, some of my Nanny’s and two grandmothers, and of course my own ideas (like the sautéed onions). When I see a dish prepared on Food Network, I try to duplicate it, but always add my own take and use stuff I learned when I vacationed in Italy and from all the paisans I met on my old delivery routes.

In last week’s blog I talked about where I go out to eat when I’m not eating in. Those family-operated, generation-to-generation establishments are the only ones for me because they closely resemble what I’d make or what I grew up eating. My disdain for all the carbon-copy drive-thru window joints is not even so much based on the inferior quality of the food, because while they certainly make me nauseous physically since they are loaded with chemicals, they also leave me totally unfulfilled mentally and emotionally. When you are used to eating food made from scratch like I always was, you compare everything to that—and therefore nothing else measures up. To me, “fast foods” are not comforting in any aspect.


Sometimes when I entertain, my guests are amazed with the spreads I present, and it’s not like I’m out to try and impress anyone, like I said, I just take pride in myself. Anyone can serve a Swanson Hungryman. Folks are even more amazed when I reveal that I don’t even own a microwave. But I don’t, and I refuse to buy one. It starts with using that microwave to warm up last night’s leftovers (the original intended use of the “nuker”), and then it becomes an appliance used as part of preparing your meal…and then from there it turns into the go-to oven for everything. Instead of taking those few extra minutes to boil water for some vegetables or potatoes, you stick a pre-made side dish in the microwave. Soon after that, you are eating nothing but TV dinners and are making no effort to cook anything. Then you aren’t even sitting down as a family in the dining room talking anymore, you are watching TV with those TV dinners. It’s the total snowball effect that I always want to avoid in life.

“How did you learn how to make that?” I often get asked, whether it’s a simple sandwich or the most complicated creation. The answer is a lot of imagination and dedication. And, of course, presentation. You first eat with your eyes. People who say they “can’t even make toast” are either just not interested in cooking, or have been intimidated into thinking that it requires extensive training. This isn’t brain surgery, and so many of the best cooks and chefs are self-taught. Anybody—if they want to that is—can learn to cook a little.

So my tip to anyone out there who has never cooked and wants to start is this: definitely get your hands on as many cookbooks as you can (whether you get them at the library or purchase them), watch every cooking show you can, as well as youtube videos (you’d be amazed at how many free tips and skills you can learn this way). Then, pick something you want to cook, go shopping and them come home and make it based on all of what you learned—taking a little knowledge from each place—and adding in your own spices of choice. Do it with friends and family members too and you’ll really see an amazing blend of variations. Hopefully you won’t come out confused and instead will understand why certain things “marry” well together, while others don’t. It may take some time to completely decide on the exact interpretation of how you want to call this dish your own, but you will. Jot it all down on an index card (or type it if you want). Continue this for a year and when it’s all said and done, you’ll have your own cookbook.

You can try making the following dish in the meantime, which is something I call “Euro Veal.” It gets this name and inspiration from two separate entrées that I enjoyed at some local spots, and is a combo of the two (with, of course, the Johnny-fications). One was called Euro Chicken and the other was a veal in vodka sauce…

First, prepare your vodka cream sauce using: two 28 oz. cans crushed tomatoes, three tablespoons chopped garlic, half of a chopped yellow onion, ¼ cup cream, ¼ cup vodka (I recommend Gordon’s, as it has a very mild flavor), one fresh mozzarella (torn up and stirred in), salt, red pepper flakes, a pinch of sugar and a dash of nutmeg. Simmer on the stove for a minimum of one hour. In the meantime, pan-fry eight to ten strips of prosciutto. Set them aside. Pound and bread six nice veal cutlets and fry them in the same pan with a bit of extra virgin olive oil.

Now to build this creation, first start by spreading a layer of the sauce in a casserole dish. Then place veal cutlets on top, followed by a layer of roasted red pepper strips. Add another layer of sauce and then top that layer with slices of provolone. Reserve the rest of the sauce to use for a side of pasta. Repeat the process with the other three cutlets. Top the casserole with the slices of fried prosciutto and grated Pecorino Romano cheese. Warm in the oven for about fifteen minutes at 400 degrees and serve with penne.

Okay, put the water on for the macaroni, I’ll be there in a half hour!