By Jeff Mauro
It is an elixir of
magical proportions. When applied to a beef sandwich or combo (beef and
Italian sausage combined in a sandwich), it elevates the otherwise soggy
eyesore of a sandwich to a springtime medley of glistening oil and
chipper veggies.
Its uses go far beyond the Italian beef sandwich. Personally, I throw a shot of it on anything from pizza to pasta and from salads to omelets. It goes splendidly on top of a homemade leftover Thanksgiving turkey sandwich. My cousin Danny spun legendary stories of late night party-fueled munchie attacks in college, where he and his broke friends resorted to eating nothing but “stale roll and hot giard sandwiches.” Heck, my father once claimed that his Uncle Petey attempted to use the unprecedented viscosity of the stuff to “grease the axles” of his '58 Seville.
The substance I am referring to has as many names as it does uses. Some guys I know call it “the hot G”, old timers call it “giardaneeeer,” but officially, it is giardiniera.
In Italian, giardiniera literally translates to “woman gardener.” Its history can be traced back 4,000 years, when Egyptians first began pickling fresh vegetables to preserve them for out-of-season use and long journeys.
So far as the modern form of giardiniera we know today, there are several claims that “beef and sausage man” Pasquale Scala invented the stuff in 1925. The Scala brand is a prominent presence in most of Chicagoland’s beef stands. He was one of the first to peddle the highly seasoned and affordable protein source door to door in a horse-drawn cart. Since Italian beef and giardiniera go hand in hand, then we have to give credit to old man Scala for—if not inventing it—at least popularizing its modern incarnation.
I was hoping my research would yield an O’Leary-esque legend where a young Pasquale Scala was slicing peppers in his kitchen beside his mother, who was dicing carrots and cauliflower. When hunger pangs ensued, he hastily reached for his roast beef sandwich. That notorious klutz Pasquale stumbled and dropped his sandwich into the bowl of cut peppers. Outraged, the young Pasquale threw a measuring cup of olive oil at the bowl. Outraged at her son’s outrageous temper, Momma Scala then threw her cutting board at him, with some of the bits landing in the bowl. Boom, history was born—or so one could hope.
Regardless of its origin, Giardiniera can now be found pretty much in any supermarket, deli, fast food joint, or household refrigerator. There are many brands to choose from, with each bringing different contents and levels of spiciness. Conte Di Savoia, at 1438 W. Taylor St., carries one of Chicago’s largest selections. Anna Dicosola, who owns the Italian grocery with her husband Mike, makes and hand-packs her own jars, which come in mild, hot, extra hot, and fine-diced relish forms.
Among her home brew are other local, hard to find brands such as Marconi, E. Formella and Sons, Mazetti, and a monstrous one-gallon tub made by Battaglia. Personally, my brand of choice is Anna’s extra hot giardiniera in fine diced relish form. It spreads easily, and each bite is as savory and oily hot as the next.
Would the city shut down
if the mayor decided one day that giardiniera was somehow harmful and
all production must cease immediately? I believe the answer could be
found in your next beef sandwich, or combo, or Sunday gravy, or meatball
sub, or turkey sandwich, or sausage McMuffin (try it, it is
transcendent), or charcuterie, or pepper and egg. The stuff is so
important to the daily diets of Chicagoans that I imagine its absence
might instigate a citywide riot complete with upturned cars and the
looting of delis.
Giardiniera is our thing, and the essence of Chicago could be summed up in one simple metaphor: giardiniera is Chicago in a jar. An uninformed observation of Chicago yields a supposedly simple, hard-working Midwestern city of big bones and bigger shoulders.
However, if you look deeper you will find a complex bouquet of neighborhoods and culture, of people and history, plus a little bit of the rough and a good touch of the tumble. Just as that same uninformed observer might see giardiniera as an attractive little vegetable salad, the experienced locals know better. One must be careful not to underestimate this pretty little jar of pickled peppers.
Like Chicago, a whole bag of complexity and character lie at its core, and one must tread lightly, because it can and will bite you back—Lady of the Garden or not.
Chef Jeff’s Homemade Hot G
Ingredients
1 red bell pepper, sliced
8 fresh jalapeno peppers, sliced (omit all or
some if you prefer mild)
12 fresh serrano peppers, sliced (omit all or
some if you prefer mild)
1 celery stalk, diced
2 medium carrots, diced
1/2 small onion, chopped
1/2 head fresh cauliflower florets, chopped
small
1 (5 ounce) jar green olives, drained and
coarsely chopped
3
tablespoons jarred pre-minced garlic (using the jarred stuff aids in
shelf life)
1 cup salt
water to cover
2 tablespoons dried oregano
2 teaspoons red pepper flakes
1 teaspoon black pepper
1 1/2 cup white vinegar
1 1/2 cup olive oil
Directions
Place into a bowl the green and red peppers,
jalapenos, celery, carrots, onion, cauliflower, garlic, and olives. Stir
in salt and fill with enough cold water to cover. Place plastic wrap
over the bowl and refrigerate overnight.
The next day, drain salty water and rinse vegetables. In a bowl, mix together oregano, red pepper flakes, and black pepper. Pour in vinegar and olive oil and mix well. Combine with vegetable mixture, cover, and refrigerate for two days before using. Makes about three quarts.
