Most Italian-American families have a signature dish that was passed down through generations. Usually of unknown origin and rarely recorded in writing, these dishes hold a unique place in family meals and memories, much like an inside joke no one else would consider funny. In my family, that dish is Macaroni Pie.
An unusual casserole of baked spaghetti, eggs and cheese, Macaroni Pie is the specialty of my Italian grandmother, Grammie. While my maternal family has an Irish surname and looks, my grandmother’s outgoing personality dominated the large household and filled it with Italian flavor—albeit very Americanized.
Although no one is sure where the recipe came from, the dish was a central part of all family celebrations. Looking back, at over 20 years of childhood memories, I can’t remember a Christmas or Easter without Grammie’s Macaroni Pie. In fact, holiday buffets were planned around it. And when leftovers began to be fought over, Grammie simply started making additional, smaller versions to guarantee everyone had a take home portion.
In my large extended family, we each had our own unique way to eat it Grammie’s Macaroni Pie. My mother cherished the end pieces, with their crisp, crusty edges. I preferred a softer center piece, served with a rich tomato sauce and the occasional meatball. Still others held out for a piece with a strip of bacon baked across the top. We shared it so many times that everyone knew each other’s preferred slice by heart.
Macaroni Pie became a litmus test for inclusion in my mother’s large family. She and her three sisters would carefully review “outsiders” reactions upon first encountering the family dish.
“Here,” they would say, “Have you ever seen anything like this?”
Liking or disliking the dish was a descriptor, as in “Uncle Tommy, who doesn’t like Macaroni Pie.” It was by no means a judgment on someone, but we were always amazed when it was refused. For many years, we never met anyone else who made it, or had even heard of anything like it.
Then in my late twenties, the “good carbs” craze hit, and noodle bars were all the rage in cities. As I sat on a double date at one such restaurant, I was intrigued by a side dish called “noodle pie.” Upon its delivery, I was surprised to see a “culinary” version of Macaroni Pie. As I was about to tell the story of Grammie’s signature dish, my friend’s date remarked that my meal looked like his mother’s Spaghetti Pie. Prepared only for special occasions. I learned that Spaghetti Pie was a lighter version of Macaroni Pie, baked in a round pie dish. In almost 30 years, he was the first person I met that recognized the dish. Two years later, his mother made us that dish the day we got engaged.
My grandmother finally taught me how to make her Macaroni Pie after I married and just weeks before the birth of my first child. Like all good family recipes, the details are intangible and rely on one’s senses, or when things “feel” right. My mother and her sisters have altered the recipe in many ways, making it more acceptable to today’s lighter, healthier habits. But none can replace the original version, prepared by Grammie and rich with love and family memories.
Grammie is now in her eighties, and we don’t see her as often as we’d like, but on those cherished occasions when we are all together, we still await the arrival of her Macaroni Pie. I only hope I can inspire similar unique memories for my children as they grow.
Ingredients
Instructions
This dish is wonderful served either warm or cool, with a rich spaghetti sauce and grated cheese.
