My Grandma Fran was a great cook. Her parents were German, but she grew up in southern California next door to a Mexican woman who taught her some of the basics of tamales and tacos. As a Navy nurse during World War II, she met a striking Italian-American midshipmen, Nicolas DeFrancesco. After the War they got married and returned to his hometown of Elkhart, Indiana.
The pair started the first pizzeria in Elkhart, Nicky D's. Grandpa could make a great pizza, but he also missed a great opportunity to expand the business. A local grocer tried to convince him to freeze his handmade works and sell them in the grocery to the masses so they could take them home and eat Nicky D's whenever they wanted. Who would ever do that? he thought. Despite the missed opportunity for expansion, Nicky D's remained one of the most popular restaurants in the growing northern Indiana city, a labor of love for both of my grandparents.
My grandpa died of brain cancer when I was 11 months old and Grandma Fran never did completely stop grieving. The restaurant, or "resternt" as Grandma always called it, folded after a few years under my uncle's management, but Grandma never stopped cooking.
She would make fresh bread in the bread machine and when my sister and I came home from soccer, basketball, track or softball practice we would practically inhale it. If we were lucky, she would make a huge pot of spaghetti sauce from scratch, checking in on the Italian recipe between her TV shows to patiently stir it. The best was Saturday nights when she would make pizza dough and pizza sauce, and we each could make our own pizzas with our toppings. Mine was normally doused in cheese, so much so that I now have a slight aversion to cheese since I ate so much of it for so many Saturdays. Saturday homemade pizza was one of the few stable traditions our family had. We may have been (and still are) dysfunctional, but at least we picked a tasty tradition to follow!
Grandma occasionally drove my dad nuts in the kitchen, watching over his shoulder whenever he tried to cook something of his own, normally some large chunk of meat. I ran into the same annoyance whenever I had tried to make desserts for any school or sporting event. I barely got to bake the "just add water" brownies on my own. She was the master chef, and we all knew it.
When I left for college Grandma Fran wrote down most of her recipes on index cards in her beautiful cursive writing. Without her to cook dinner I started experimenting on my own while in college and have come to love cooking. One of the best parts of running is that I burn a lot of calories, so I can cook a lot of food for myself. I occasionally use some of her recipes, but have not had the guts to try her signature tomato sauces or pizza because I know I won't come close to what she would have made.
Grandma passed away last summer and it really hit me hard. I was glad she was no longer in pain, but who would I call when I didn't know how to cook a porkchop or why the the banana bread didn't rise. A few months ago I decided to try a new pasta sauce that was on sale at the grocery store. Not thinking much of it, I poured it on my noodles and took a bite. Tears came to my eyes, it was the first thing I had tasted since Grandma died that came anywhere close to what her sauce tasted like. To be clear, it is not as good as her sauce, but it could definitely be a cousin in taste.
Cooking can nurture in more ways than the physical. I marveled at Deena Kastor cooking her enchiladas at the end of the Spirit of the Marathon movie as it reminded me of the simple pleasures of good food. Often when I cook I think of Grandma, although my "style" differs greatly from hers. Someday I will make that sauce from scratch and again have homemade pizza on Saturday, but until then, I'll nourish my body and soul with my own concoctions, then go run some more so I can have more ice cream.
I ran across this cookbook on http://eliterunning.com/, it's called The Runners Cookb
ook and was compiled by Allison Wade. It has tons of recipes from elite American distance runners, from Shalane Flanagan and her mom to the Gouchers and Alan Webb. I ordered it and to my amazement, the cover is a picture from the Tufts 10k I ran last October, and on the very right-hand edge you can see my eye, part of my arm and part of my leg! Go to http://www.runnerscookbook.com/ for more information or to order it. All proceeds are split evenly between the Jenny Crain "Make it Happen" Fund and the Ryan Shay Memorial Fund. 
5 comments:
Hi, I just found this fascinating to read because my name is Nicolas DeFrancesco. My email is nicolo6@hotmail.com
I see this is kind of old but I just had to say something.Hope you see this. This has nothing to do with running, but I knew your Grandpa and Grandma. They were great people. My mother worked for your Grandpa for 14 yrs. and maybe a year for your uncle. I remember going there to the rest. on saturdays and going to the bakery(Ronzones) to get their bread and my brother would peel potatoes with your Grandpa. They were outstanding people and there are alot of people who remember them. my mother still talks about your grandparents with so much love and affection.They will for sure always be remembered.
Wow, Corrie. Thanks for leaving your comment. I only lived in Elkhart for one year (when I was 5-years-old), so I don't have too many memories of the restaurant besides eating cheese and drinking gingerale occasionally during off hours. I have seen many pictures of Grandpa and Grandma peeling potatoes, though. Your note means a lot to me, thanks so much for sharing it.
I came across your blog & couldn't believe what I saw. My Aunt Peg worked in the kitchen for many, many years. I do remember Nick - & Frances was just a wonderful person. My mom also worked in the kitchen for a few years. What a wonderful memory. Nicky was a few years older than myself - I used to get her hand-me downs. Once in a while when we came to "visit" I got to run the potatoes through the slicer to make homemade fries. Great place & wonderful people! jeszar@sbcglobal.net
Jess...My family and I just sitting around the table talking about Nicky D's...my parents also knew your grandparents. My memory is of my dad bring home a large crockpot full of Nicky D's spaghetti...which made my whole week...YUM! I don't know if you will see this but if you do please write back..thanks! Brenda =)
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