Above average home cook, published humorist, endurance athlete, former ex-pat, recovering attorney, doting husband, dedicated dad, non-Italian speaking Italian-American, Krav Maga practitioner, and endearingly lousy ukulele player. It’s all true. It’s all Sal. This website (www.saldetraglia.com) is my outlet to inform and entertain, on both the personal and professional fronts.
I have joyous news for the three other Italian-Americans living in the state of Texas. There is a bakery in Dallas that–and I can’t believe I am typing these words–sells pusties.
Pusties! In Texas, FFS! I mean, it’s hard enough to get a good eggplant parm in Texas, let alone pusties.
Pusties, for those whose surnames do not end in a vowel, are custard-filled pastries found throughout the Italian province of Puglia (where my ancestors are from) and, more importantly, throughout my beloved hometown of Utica, NY.
I published my laboriously home-tested recipes for pusties here, and it has been far and away the most popular post I’ve ever written–although my Tomato Pie post is a close second.
The Dallas bakery that sells pusties (or “pasticciotto,” as it is formally called) is Palmieri Cafe.
As you can see from the photo, Palmieri’s pusties are the traditional oval shape found in Puglia, Italy–as opposed to the fluted tart shape favored by Utica’s bakeries.
#PROTIP: Pusty tins are available for purchase from my friends at NJ Flihan & Co. (hey David!).
I’ve not been to Palmieri myself yet, but my wife has and she reports that they are almost as good as those served by Utica, NY’s Florentine Pastry Shop–the bakery that, in my 100% correct opinion, makes the finest pusties on the planet.
She also said that Palmieri’s pusties are “obscenely large”–because, you know, everything is bigger in Texas.
My sweet-toothed intelligence sources report that there is an Italian bakery selling pasticciotti (aka, pusties) in, of all places, Dallas, Texas! That bakery is Palmieri Cafe, located at 307 N. Bishop Ave, Dallas, TX 75208.
This is joyous news to those of our tribe who have long-since left the northeast, yet still long for its food.
As luck would have it, my wife is traveling to Dallas on business next week and promised, under penalty of divorce, to bring back a dozen. I will have more to report shortly.
I’ve written passionately (here and here) about my family’s annual Christmas Eve seafood-only blowout that we call “Fishmas” and others call “Feast of the Seven Fishes.” It’s an Italian-American ritual that has been observed and perpetuated by my family for decades longer than I’ve been alive.
I’ve even gone so far as to document photos of, and recipes for, our typical Fishmas courses because…you know…some day I’ll be dead.
While certain Fishmas courses–such as linguini with calamari, linguini with anchovy, and most importantly…fried smelts–are locked in permanent rotation, other courses have come, went, and/or evolved throughout the years.
This year, however, we went retro on one new course. Except that it wasn’t new at all.
Baccala (bacalao in Spanish, salt cod in English) was on my grandparents’ Fishmas table throughout the 40s, 50s, and 60s. They eventually cast it aside, however, because (#RealTalk!) it’s a pain in the ass to make. It’s called “salt cod” because (unsurprisingly) it’s cod preserved in salt. And the only way to get rid of the salt is to soak it in many changes of water.
How many changes? Nine. Nine changes of water over three days.
Well, let me tell ya…those water changes were worth the effort, because the Baccala Balls that we introduced this year were balls-to-the-wall awesome. Recipe and photos below.
THE INGREDIENTS
1 lbs. Baccala (salt cod) [Note: Available on-line or at your local H-Mart Korean superstore]
Panko bread crumbs
Eggs
Flour
1/4 c Mayo
1.5 t Old Bay or Cajun seasoning
Small handful of chopped fresh parsley
4 Scallions (minced)
Salt & pepper
Vegetable oil
THE ASSEMBLY
STEP 1: Place baccala in a pan or bowl. Cover with cold water and place in fridge.
STEP 2: Change the water at least three times per day for three days. This is required to rid the baccala of the preservative salt. Nobody likes salty fish…especially Uncle Tony with the high blood pressure.
STEP 3: After day 3, pull the flesh from the skin and bones and shred finely. I use a fork (or two) to do this step. Pick out any bones remaining within the flesh, so that you don’t require a Christmas Eve trip to Urgent Care.
STEP 4: In a large bowl, combine the shredded baccala, scallions, parsley, Old Bay (or Cajun) seasoning, mayo, and 4-5 T of Panko. Add salt and pepper to taste.
STEP 5: Add 1 egg, and fold into mixture.
STEP 6: Grab a bit of the baccala mixture, and roll into a ball with your hands. #ProTip: If you gently/slightly squash the ball with the palms of your hands, it will be easier to fry both sides evenly.
STEP 7: Set up two plates with a bowl in the middle. Fill plate on the left with flour. Fill middle bowl with beaten eggs. Fill plate on right with Panko bread crumbs seasoned with salt, pepper, and Old Bay (or Cajun) seasoning to taste.
STEP 8: Fill sauté pan with a couple inches of vegetable oil. Heat to frying temperature (i.e., pretty damn hot).
STEP 9: Dredge baccala ball in flour, then egg, then seasoned Panko. Gently place in oil. Fry until golden brown on one side, flip, then fry til golden brown on other side.
STEP 10: Place fried baccala balls on cooling rack or paper towel-lined plate. Taste and decide if it needs another sprinkling of salt. Serve as is, or with a dipping sauce (I like a chipotle-spiked remolade sauce).
Merry Fishmas, Charlie Brownavecchio!
Getting ready to soak the baccala.Change that water nine times over three days.Pull the flesh from the skin/bones and shred.Mix it all up.Add an egg and mix some more.Roll them into balls.Dredge in flour/egg/panko, then fry them up.
