Matty C Collings
Sep 6, 2018 · 7 min read

We’ve lost one of the greatest Chefs…a wonderful Wife, Mother and Grandmother, but what she did best was make people happy through her food.

The Place, Carroll Gardens, Brooklyn, a Neighborhood built on the sweat of stevedores, dock workers and painters from Sicily and I am talking about the true salt of the earth people that built a now gentrified enclave brick by brick, they raised families and were the trustees of a truly the type of old school neighborhood with stoops and stickball and a tight knit community that we long-fully reflect upon and wish we could still have, but know it’s inevitable that we cannot preserve in New York City.

Why do I bring this up, because I think that it bears repeating that his week, I ( we) lost one of the absolute best cooks in Brooklyn, if not NYC, and I am fully prepared to fight you to defend my argument, this is not an argument born out of grief, but one I have been waiting for the right time to share.

I am here to tell you that one of the best Chefs in Brooklyn was my mother in Law, Concetta Mattioli. Don’t roll your eyes at me, I wouldn’t dare put these words out there without a tremendous argument. If you’d like to stop arguing right now, bow out, because you will never be able to pose challenge to my succinct argument of this claim. My claim is truly without bias and verifiable. Try me, I will happily defeat any argument you could possibly have contrary to my claim. Try me. I can say this because I know that you have no idea.

Let me take you back, here we have a woman, born in the town of Pachino Sicily, to the Barrera family and resided in nearby Pozzallo ,married into the Mattioli family to Guiseppe in 1962 and thereafter, having brought into this world a Son, Salvatore, and daughter Giorgia (Ginetta) followed by in America 1977 they brought into the world a 2nd beautiful daughter Teresa Donella.

This family in the early 1970’s decided that for a better life for their children, it was time to move to Brooklyn NY in the aforementioned neighborhood of Carroll Gardens. Her husband was a hardworking man, spent many years working luxury cruise liners as the head of important stations such as silverware and cutlery. These instruments of fine dining were an essential cog in the experience of haute dining that were so important, overseen by a man who took immense pride in ensuring that the duties bestowed upon him where executed with precision.

Fast forward or rewind back to the 70’s where I left you, wherein Carroll Gardens, these immigrant men men were a part of a social club known as the Society of the Citizens of Pozzallo, one of, if not THE oldest Italian social club in the United States of America. Men who brought their families to this great nation and helped to build it off the sweat of their back, in return, all they desired was the chance to earn enough money to give their children the best life they ever could provide. Choke on that like I am, that’s America! Brick by Brick, these are the type of the many immigrant groups that came and created the great nation we live in today.

So, I know what you are saying, how is this explaining your claims that one of the best cooks in this City has left us. Stay with me, because I am going to make an argument above reproach or criticism.

Again, this chef was Concetta Mattioli. It’s hard to just decide to make bullet points or wax poetic. Actually, not that hard, I am going with the latter. Stop reading now if you aren’t ready to soak it in.

With all due respect, everything this woman prepared was part of a symphony. From Pasta, Sauce (Sicilian Americans didn’t call it gravy as you normally hear about Italian Americans in Brooklyn). Regardless, if you were me or my nephew who didn’t like the sauce even though it tasted marvelous (me because of acid reflux, my nephew because maybe the Pesto was that F’ing Great). We got our own servings of Rigatoni with Pesto. Every singles week, day and year. I’m not talking presto from a jar. I am talking about Pesto made from Basil in Sicily, Pignolis, Olive Oil or EVOO and maybe some pecorino or parmesan Reggiano, all smuggled back in the enormous suitcases from Sicily every summer, along with enormous sun dried tomatoes and wonderful cookies.

Can I talk about the proteins before the vegetables? The Pork Chops, almost in the same vein as shake n bake, but not even in the same sentence. Breaded with onion and fresh basil, Thyme and Rosemary, juicy and large, I could never get enough of these and I am devastated that I will never have them again, except that her first daughter makes them about 98% as great, so I will be ok.

Again, with the protein, if there was a beef being cooked, this woman knew and made it her mission to make mine medium rare to rare, while the rest of the family like things well done

(sorry, they were crazy like that, but I love them) This chef always made it her mission to serve me what I loved.

The vegetable, actually the potatoes. OOOOO MMMM GGGGG. Those potatoes, baked cubes of immense love with olive oil and rosemary, thyme and who knows what else. Any restaurant would make a million dollars if they served these potatoes as a side

Marinated red peppers; they made my digestive system death for days, but they were so amazing to eat, similar to the way I love Kimchi, the flavor of the pepper brought out by precision in salt and oil. I knew they would kill me, but I had to eat them.

Green Beans, holy mother of vegetables, this chef could get me to eat a pile of green beans when was stuffed from everything I have mentioned. You know what they were amazing, a slight sliver of garlic in the service platter and some oil. Fantastic. PS. No butter ever used in this kitchen. While I love French Cuisine, I know the difference or the preference and this woman could cook anything against a chef who used 4 sticks of butter to make something taste amazing, she just knew how to make anything great without it.

(I think this is where I would be remiss to mention when she made rabbit stew and tricked my pregnant wife to try it because of old superstitions, it was amazingly good)

I’m doing her a disservice here by fast forwarding, but I have to keep you readings so that I can explain the climactic crescendo of the culinary symphony. It’s going to sound boring, but if you have been at the table, the crescendo ascended and descended to reach the Salad. Served after everything else, but before the fruit or special deserts that we picked up in this truly special neighborhood. Celery would be perfectly cut and crispy, fresh lettuces, perfect tomato slices, and possibly a small amount of cabbage, and the dressing….. holy moly. Simple oil and vinegar with seasoning of course, but I’ve been trying for 15 years and I can’t reproduce it…. and the Fennel. How can I even describe how this chef made me a fennel addict, sometimes I only go to the grocer to buy fennel…..

I don’t think I can even write about how this chef delivered the 7 fishes on Christmas ,every time like a gangster, it may just dust you. Breaded shrimp. Scungili, calamari, seafood salad with it all and oil and celery. I will say one statement when this woman did 7 fish courses, it was 70 and they were all amazing, although lobsters were always curiously served last, and as a New England native, I found myself eating 4 or 5 lobsters at the end of a feast out of respect. I wouldn’t change that for all of the money in the world.

Let me tell you a few quick little nuggets to support my argument (even though I have already won). She made a mean meatless Monday Lentil stew. Also, I will probably die a little inside every Thanksgiving when I don’t get her Sicilian pizzas. One of my biggest regrets in life is how I discovered my love for anchovies and sardines after so many years of not eating wonderful things she created. Most of all, I will always remember how her husband, the man she loved to cook for, had a disdain for cheese. I believe the phrase of his to be ‘ smells like feet’.

She catered to his every desire, taste, and I know that everything I have written in this tribute is true because, he was also a man who never liked or enjoyed eating out at restaurants., he wasn’t cheap or anything like that. His reason, which many times I have heard him proclaim, it was essentially was that his wife was the best cook he could ever ask for, and he didn’t feel he needed to eat anywhere else but home from her kitchen. It sounds odd to some, however. The man was right. I write this as a testament to his proclamations and in tremendous respect to the best chef I have ever had the pleasure of serving me food. Concetta Mattioli loved to feed her family and she is one of the best to ever do that. Best I ever had.

Love. Matthew Charles Collings. RIP

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