Shopping with a Budget and Marcella Hazan

A few weeks ago I met with Abby, my financial advisor — a term I use loosely as I've only seen her one other time, in 2006 or 07 I think. That meeting was too depressing to warrant another. But, since my divorce, I've been known as a person with no money, someone friends take pity on when out for food and drinks, and I'm tired of it. Plus my boss told me I had to see her or else.

I try hard to be a grown up, usually failing miserably, particularly with my finances. But I went through the motions of preparing for Abby's visit. I carefully delineated my expenses in an Excel spreadsheet, thinking that I should at least look like I knew where to start. Abby consults for our non-profit pro bono, so I wanted to be courteous and not appear to waste her time. But really, I didn't know why I was bothering. I knew what she was going to say: I need to get a new job. The number at the bottom of the spreadsheet — what I have left to spend for a month after paying all my bills — is pretty dismal. I knew that Abby would only confirm that my pathetic salary for one could never buy oil and gas and electricity and the iPhone and internet service, and Starbucks, while simultaneously paying off my enormous debt. So, while I waited for her arrival I started to update my résumé, and I mentally prepared to break the news to my boss, who would be bereft to lose me, but it had to be done.

After exchanging a few pleasantries, Abby and I got down to business. She studied my spreadsheet for several minutes and then looked up to study me. "Do you really have that amount of money left after you pay all of your bills?" I nodded my head and wiped a tear from my eye. "Janetta," she said, "your salary isn't your problem; your problem is you." I was aghast.

We went through my "budget" line-by-line. Did I really need to pay for horseback riding for my daughter? Yes. Could she possibly drop out of her community theater group? No. I am frequently an imperfect mother, but I refuse to sacrifice the defining moments of my daughter's one and only childhood. There would be enough blame already, enough fodder for the therapist's mill; I need to create some fabulous moments as well. Moments I can point to while paying for medication and begging for the right to see my grandchildren.

"Well," Abby muttered. "Where do you buy your food?" "Um... Whole Foods and the farmers' market?" "There's your problem," she retorted. "You need to start shopping at Stop and Shop, but Market Basket really has the best deals."

Stop and Shop? Market Basket? I've never even seen a Market Basket. There certainly isn't one in Brookline. I started to whine, but my arguments fell flat. She left me with a few guidelines, a URL for an online budget service, and a new savings account with a higher interest rate. She disparaged Suze Orman on her way out, which I ignored, but I was determined to succeed. I went to Stop and Shop that very same day.


I hate Stop and Shop. The people who work there make me sad. I get no inspiration from the shelves. They don't pipe in cool '80s music like Trader Joe's where I sing and dance down the aisles to Journey and Gloria Gaynor (see future therapy for my daughter above). And, I'm most comfortable wearing glasses and a wig in the parking lot. But when I walked in that night, a good friend of mine was standing right there in front of the lettuce. One of those friends who has shown me pity and bought me oysters and cocktails on a number of occasions. If she could buy food at Stop and Shop, couldn't I? I scanned the produce and the meat section. It wasn't pretty. But it was cheap.


I frequently have a hankering for pork and a craving for Marcella Hazan. This night was no exception. I know that Julia is receiving (and rightly so) the lion's share of the press recently, but, while I admire the French, my favorite food usually comes from Italy. Marcella is bossy, and I usually screw something up, but I've never made a meal from Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking that I haven't loved, despite her warnings and my failings. Once I bought dried chanterelles instead of porcini because they were all I could find that particular day, only to come home and read: "Dried morels, chanterelles, or shiitake... do not remotely recall the flavor of porcini, and are not a satisfactory substitute." I panicked, but in the end I really couldn't tell the difference.

On this particular night Stop and Shop actually had dried porcini, but I just grabbed the packet on top — they looked black and earthy and delicious. I returned to Marcella to remember how to reconstitute the mushrooms and she told me, "unless you have no alternative — stay away from brown-black, dark mushrooms." I had blown it again.

Stop and Shop or Whole Foods? Let's face it. Like the mushrooms, most of the difference is in my head. Yes, I would like to know where the pig came from, but unless I'm at the farmers' market, talking to the people who raised and killed it, my knowledge at either store is pretty much the same. One just uses butcher paper instead of styrofoam and has friendly men to hand over the goods — one of the factors leading to the higher food cost probably. But supplying jobs at the same time. It's a quandary.

I have to admit, whatever my intentions, it's been several weeks since Abby's visit, and I haven't been to Stop and Shop since. And I only occasionally check my online budget because it gives me palpitations, particularly around the holidays. But, wherever you buy your pork and whatever your budget, you'll love this recipe. Just leave Marcella's voice at home and deal with the consequences later. Whatever you end up with — chanterelles instead of porcini; 1" chops instead of 3/4", if you have enough wine on hand, it will turn out just fine.

Braised Pork Chops with Tomatoes, Cream, and Porcini Mushrooms
adapted from Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking by Marcella Hazan

1/4 c vegetable oil
2 lbs pork chops, cut 3/4" thick
1/2 c dry white wine
1/2 c canned plum tomatoes (I prefer San Marzano or Muir Glen. Whole Foods frequently has one or the other on sale - 2 cans for $5.)
1/2 c heavy cream
salt & freshly ground pepper
1 oz dried porcini. Or, really, whatever dried mushrooms you can find.
filtered water from the porcini soak (see below)
1/2 lbs fresh, white button mushrooms

1. Reconstitute the dried mushrooms: soak porcini in 2 cups barely warm water for at least 30 minutes.

2. Lift out the porcini by hand, squeezing out as much water as possible, letting it drain back into the bowl in which they had been soaking. Rinse the mushrooms in several changes of fresh water. Pat dry with paper towels, making sure all dirt is washed away. Coarsely chop.

3. Filter the mushroom water through a strainer lined with paper towels; reserve for later.

4. Put 2 tbs of the canola oil into a sauté pan large enough to hold all of the chops. Turn the heat to medium high. When the oil is hot, add the chops. Brown the meat deeply on one side (let it sizzle until it doesn't stick when you turn it with the fork), then do the other side.

5. Add the white wine, letting it simmer briskly for 15 or 20 seconds, while scraping any brown bits from the bottom of the pan. Add the tomatoes, cream, salt, pepper, and the cut-up porcini. Turn the heat down to cook at a gentle simmer, and cover the pan, with the lid ajar.

6. Cook for 45 minutes or more, depending on the exact thickness until the meat feels tender when prodded with a fork, turning from time to time.

7. While the chops are cooking, put the filtered water from the porcini soak into a small saucepan, and boil it down to about 1/3 c.

8. Wash the fresh button mushrooms and cut them into thin slices.

9. Put the remaining 2 tbs of oil into another sauté pan and turn the heat to high. When the oil is hot, put in the mushrooms. Stir them frequently and add salt and pepper. When the liquid they shed has boiled away, add the reduced filtered porcini water and continue to stir until there's no more liquid in the pan. Take off heat.

10. When the chops are tender, add the cooked mushrooms to the pan. Turn the chops and mushrooms, cover the pan again, and continue cooking for 5 to 8 minutes over moderate heat. Transfer to a warm platter and serve immediately. I ate it with butternut squash, but polenta, rice, or mashed potatoes would all work well to soak up the sauce.