A Rescue Mission Gone Awry

The other day my sister, Anne Marie, and I were reminiscing about growing up in Providence in our extended family household. Our home was a triple-decker right near Rhode Island Hospital on Borden Street. We lived on the first floor, our grandparents, great grandmother, unmarried aunts and uncles lived on the second floor, with the third floor was occupied by our Aunt Angie, Uncle Peter and their family.

There was a grapevine covering most of the backyard and a small garden at the rear. I was lucky to have my grandparents in my life. I learned from them about our culture, food, and our heritage. I was 13, when my great grandmother, Antonetta Iantosco (we called her Mamadona), died at the age of 87, and 15, when my grandfather, Michele Bevelaqua, died at the age of 75. Fortunately, my grandmother, Michelina Bevelaqua, was in my life for 35 years. She was 91 when she passed away.

I was exposed to the old world traditions, learned to cook the old fashioned way… we never opened a can of beans, we soaked the dry beans and cooked them. Use a cake mix? That was unheard of! We made our cakes and cookies from scratch. Back then, my grandmother baked her own bread and made our macaroni (not pasta). Now that I am retired, I plan on baking bread more frequent; that is, once the weather turns cooler.

Anne Marie and I are animal lovers; we always had dogs and a parakeet while growing up. If my sister could rescue all the hurt animals in the world, she would. One day, my grandfather found a pigeon with a broken wing and took it home. She decided she was going to nurse it back to health. She bound up the wing, fed it every day and put it in a box on the third floor fire escape. Soon it was fat and healthy, but not quite ready to fly. Every day she would come home from school and check on her patient. Then one day, the patient had disappeared! Anne Marie ran downstairs and asked Mamadona where her pigeon was, and she replied that it had flown away (flown the coop!)

Well, Anne Marie just didn’t believe it, so she opened up the refrigerator and saw this tiny plucked bird. She looked at Mamadona and said, “what this?: Mamadona replied “it’s a little chicken.” You see, in the old country, squab (i.e.pigeon) is a delicacy. I have found many recipes for squab in my Italian cookbooks, but somehow I could never bring myself to try making any of the dishes.

Sal has raised Fantail and Jacobean pigeons, so it would be like eating a pet, ugh! So instead, here is a recipe for another “little chicken,” Cornish Hens. You can find Cornish Hens right in your neighborhood supermarket. The recipe is Cornish Hens alla Diavolo. The term fra diavolo means “brother devil” and it is a fiery, spicy, pepper dish; alla diavolo means “devil’s style.” The recipe serves two to four and can also be grilled.

Cornish Hens alla Diavolo

2 Rock Cornish hens, rinsed and patted dry

2 tablespoons Italian parsley

2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil

Juice of one lemon, and one lemon, quartered

2 teaspoons of sea salt or kosher salt

1 tablespoon coarsely ground black pepper

Cut each Cornish hen in half from neck to tail and remove the backbone. Press down on the halves to flatten them. Place them in a shallow bowl, and toss them with olive oil. Season them with the salt, pepper, parsley and lemon juice. Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate from 4 to 6 hours.

Preheat the broiler. Remove the Cornish hen halves from the marinade (reserve marinade) and place them, skin side up, in large roasting pan. Broil 6 inches from the heat for about 10 minutes, brushing occasionally with the marinade during the first 5 minutes. Turn the hens over, brush once with the marinade, and broil another 5 minutes. Turn off broiler and set oven for 425°

Turn the hens skin side up and roast for another 8 to 10 minutes until done. Arrange the hens on a platter and drizzle with olive oil.