Giambott, or Noni's So Good for You Veggie Stew

I could say that I grew these myself, but you all know better!

Giambotta, or Noni's So Good for You Veggie Stew

I really love summer in New England (in Texas, not so much, but that's another post.) When I was a small boy, I was fortunate enough to spend a lot of my summers hanging around my Italian mother's family. They all lived in a compound of three homes on my great-grandfather's several-acre place in what was then a rural part Worcester, MA-- on a low green  mountain right by Lake Quinsigamond. My Noni, or great-grandmother, Antoinette was a fantastic cook, and I definitely got my love of cooking from pestering her in her kitchen all summer.

She and the rest of the family were also very talented gardeners--100% organic, as a matter of fact. Peppers, tomatoes of all kinds, zucchini and yellow squash, broccoli rape, green onions, white onions, garlic, sweet corn, potatoes, turnips, lettuces, radishes, carrots, basil, parsley and other herbs. There were pear, apple, mulberry and cherry trees, wild raspberry and blackberry runners, and several treasured gooseberry bushes--which were a particular favorite of mine. I loved how the berries would turn from sour green to sweet red when they were ripe and would pop them in my mouth every chance I got. I usually tried to get my sister and younger cousins to eat the green ones--still paying that bad karma back, BTW.

There were three big vegetable gardens, a flower garden, and a grapevine-covered patio with a brick fireplace at one end and a marble-topped table big enough for everyone to sit together and eat underneath. Everyone weeded and watered the plants in the evenings, and then the whole family would gather out there after dinner, drinking coffee and sharing pastries, telling stories and enjoying each other's company, usually with a fire going. The fireflies would light up around dusk and we kids would chase them around, trying to catch them in jars. It was pure magic.

My Uncle Angelo, who had an impressive girth, wore a fedora, and talked a lot like one of the guys in Goodfellas. His trademark were these little twisted cigars called Parodis (or Guinee Stinks, according to my not-very-PC Irish dad) and he was famous for two things: his Fourth of July fireworks, which involved actual dynamite, and his numerous and mammoth zucchinis. Like baseball bat sized zucchini. So big there's no way you can eat it all. So big it's a challenge to figure out what to do with the whole damn thing. Fortunately, my Auntie Theresa, Antoinette, my great-grandmother, and Grace, my grandmother were outstanding cooks. But even they rolled their eyes when he pulled yet another one out of the garden.

People in Texas would understand the dilemma--during hunting season freezers from El Paso to Beaumont runneth over with venison, nilgai, wild boar and all sorts of very tasty meat that even Dr. Atkins would get sick of if he had to eat it every day. Imagine having to eat zucchini every day for three months and you see the point.

One of my least favorite of their dishes when I was a kid was giambotta. Pronounced "shambort" in Noni's Bari dialect, it was a meatless stew made up of all those veggies I mentioned earlier, and I hated it. They said it was "good for you," and that was practically the kiss of death to an eight year old. My mother would make it sometimes and I always felt like I was being punished for something I didn't do when she made me eat it.

As an adult I've come to love this dish, and its health benefits can't be denied. Unless you put a ton of grated pecorino or Parmesan on top right before serving and eat it with a big hunk of crusty, butter-slathered bread, which I always do. But you're eating zucchini, so fuggedaboutit.

Giambotta

3 tsb good olive oil
1 medium onion, fine dice
2 cloves of garlic, smashed
2-3 medium sized zucchini, medium dice
2-3 medium sized yellow summer squash, medium dice
1 bell pepper, large dice
4 plum tomatoes, medium dice
1 stalk celery, medium dice
1 carrot, medium dice
1 cup garbanzo beans, cooked and drained
1 large potato, diced
1-1/2 quarts vegetable or chicken stock
a handful of chopped parsley, basil or whatever herbs you have handy
salt and fresh ground pepper
(Option: a tbs of tomato paste if you want a thicker broth, added ten minutes before finishing)


Sweat the onions and garlic for ten minutes in the olive oil in a large enameled pot. When translucent (no color on them,) add the potatoes, pepper, carrot and celery and raise heat to medium. Cook for another ten minutes before adding the remaining ingredients. Bring to a simmer for 20-25 minutes, or until potatoes are cooked through.  Finish with a drizzle of good olive oil and lots and lots of grated cheese.

Note--I added that garbanzo beans for the protein, and you can use whatever vegetables you have an abundance of. Like most homestyle Italian dishes, it's all about using what you've got.