“Heh, come over here, kid, learn something. You never know, you may have to cook for twenty guys someday. You see, you start out with the a little bit of oil. Then you fry some garlic. Then you throw in some tomatoes, tomato paste, you fry it; ya make sure it doesn’t stick. You get it to a boil; you shove in all your sausage and your meatballs…heh? And a little bit ‘o wine. An’ a little bit of sugar, and that’s my trick.”
Just like that, Clemenza ignited my interest in food in a short sweet scene in the Godfather. The secret to sauce. I mean it was Clemenza and his fat fingers and also the fact that I used to watch my grandfather butcher fresh meats, and actually used to hear my great gram call out the equivalent of “An-ton-y!! It’s Prince spa-get-tee day!!!” Except the macaroni was homemade and my aunts rolled it on the kitchen table on wax paper covered with flour.
The whole point of this story is that I know Italian food. I got street cred on this one.
I am going to let Troy in on a huge secret. It’s secret to the people in Rensselaer County cuz’ it’s a “secret” that exists in Schenectady. I know what you’re thinking. “going to Schenectady is like going to Syracuse.” It’s all way out west. It ain’t that far and I love Downtown Schenectady.
Perreca’s Bakery in The Electric City’s Little Italy has the greatest Italian sandwich in New York State. I said it. Fuggedboutit. No need to go to Mulberry Street. It’s here. I tried a few.
The prosciutto and sharp provolone knocked my socks off. Fresh baked bread dripped with olive oil. There’s nothing left to say. If you have not been there, or refuse to make a trip, you don’t know nuthin’ about food.