No cheese on the clam sauce
ANTOINETTE JACKSON Mangia! Mangia!

"We're in Shreveport and should be in Athens in a couple of hours," said my cousin Angie. "We're coming down Highway 19 because we're driving this huge RV and 19 looks straighter than some of the other roads."

"No problem," I responded. "You should be at the newspaper office before I get off work at 5. Then I can lead you to our house."

Bob and I hadn't seen my cousin Angie and her husband Carlo since they sold their restaurant in Elkhorn, Wisconsin and left behind their seven-day, twentyfour hour work week.

They had since bought an RV and were catching up on the four decades of life they missed out on.

I was so glad they were almost here that I had to stop myself from phoning my husband.

It was Friday afternoon and Bob was playing golf.

Unless there was a life-threatening circumstance, I knew better than to call him while he was on the golf course.

Just about the time I finished proofing my ads for the weekend edition, I looked up to see Carlo walking into the office.

His hair was a little grayer, he was a little thinner, and he looked more rested than he had in years.

Before he could approach the receptionist, I came up behind him and said, "Welcome to East Texas. Retirement must agree with you." Then gave him a big hug.

"Antoinette. Hey! It sure is different not having to worry about who's taking care of business while I'm gone. I'm not used to the idea yet," he offered.

Just about then, Bob came by the office to let me know he had finished his golf game. He spotted Carlo and repeated my observations.

"Carlo, you look great. I'm in the white GMC pick up parked out front. Why don't you follow me home?" suggested Bob.

"My ads are all in and the paper's not going to get much work out of me for the next hour. So, why don't I let my boss know I'm sneaking out early?"

I greeted cousin Angie, who was waiting in the RV, then joined the caravan to Lake Athens.

While many of my husband's family had visited us over the years, this was only the second visit from my side of the family.

During the 10-minute drive home, I thought about the many happy times our families had shared while I was growing up.

Our summers at their cottage in Lake Geneva were some our best vacations. I couldn't wait to show Angie the home we built on our little lake.

When we arrived in front of the house, Bob got out of his vehicle and said "That RV is a beauty. How long is it?"

"A little over 35 feet and too long to bend around that curved driveway," Carlo, always the joker, answered.

After pacing off the distance, the men decided the safest place to park was just inside the wooded lot across from the house.

"And not a moment too soon," came Angie's voice. "I'm getting cabin fever in here. Come help me out, Carlo."

"This is really nice, Antoinette," said Angie stepping down the steps of the RV.

"Let's go in. On certain days when the water is deep blue, it reminds me of Lake Geneva," I answered, pointing out the view from the Great Room windows.

"But isn't this a little far from the golf course, Bob?" asked Carlo, while carrying in their overnight bags.

"Bob, show him to the guest room," I said changing the subject away from golf. "Then you men go out on the patio and watch fish jump out of the water while I start dinner.

"You guys must be hungry. Since it's Friday night, you get to chose between our two favorite meals: fancied-up store-bought pizza or pasta with clam sauce."

"That's a no-brainer. We'll take the clam sauce," said Angie. "How can I help?"

"Just decide which stool you want to sit on and talk with me while I cook. That's why the kitchen is designed with the stove facing you." I explained.

While the men enjoyed a glass of wine on the patio, Angie and I caught up on the family news. It was so good to have my cousin here with me.

"I fix our clam sauce a little differently than the classic way," I explained while sautéing the garlic.

"Bob prefers short pasta over the linguini. And just like my father, he calls al dente undercooked," I lamented.

"To keep peace in the family, I usually take my portion out of the pot a couple of minutes ahead of his. How do you like your pasta cooked?"

"Al dente, of course," Angie answered. "Remember, we owned a restaurant. Let me help you make the salad"

When the meal was prepared, I called the men in and we all sat down around the dining room table.

As I reached for the chunk of Parmesan and grater to pass it around, Carlo said, "No cheeese."

"Pardon me?" I asked.

"No cheese," he repeated, affecting a heavy Italian accent. "No cheeese.

"I don't understand," I said.

"Go ahead, Carlo." Angie encouraged. "Tell them about the cheese."

Bob and I got ready to enjoy one of Carlo's lively funny stories.

"The last time we were in Italy, we stopped at this beautiful seaside village in Sicily. We both ordered the linguini with fresh clam sauce. When I noticed there was no cheese on the table, I asked the waiter to bring some back with him. When he returned, he put our plates in front of us, but not the cheese.

"Figuring he forgot, I called him back to the table and said, 'please bring us some cheese for our pasta.' Once again, this guy turned away and then promptly ignored me.

"By now I was determined we were going to eat our pasta with cheese. I called to him and repeated, this time in Italian, 'Signore, formaggio per favore.'

"The waiter, who was as just as determined as I was, looked me in the eyes and said, 'No cheese . . . No cheese . . . No cheese!'

"'I see cheese on other tables. Why no cheese?' I asked. 'Because' he answered, 'In Italia, onea doesa nota eata da cheeese ona da fish!'

"He then turned on his heels and left us to eat our linguini with clam sauce--without cheese."

We all laughed and passed the grater so we could celebrate America and covered our pasta with freshly grated Parmesan.

Angie said they learned that food purists do not serve cheese with mild-flavored fish.

The premise is that strong-flavored sharp cheese will overpower the simple flavors of the dish.

Dinner was filled with laughter and warm conversation as we lingered around the table. But both the evening and my cousins' overnight stay ended all too quickly.

Early the next morning we were standing in front of their packed RV, hugging and saying our goodbyes.

As Angie and Carlo headed toward Phoenix to spend time with their son and his family, I wondered when we'd be blessed by another visit from them.

But, from that evening forward, whenever Bob and I have pasta with clam sauce, one of us will say to the other "no cheeese."

Then we grate a heaping mound of Parmesan on our clam sauce, lift our glass and drink a toast to Carlo and Angie.

Clam Sauce with Shells for Two

The seasonings and shellshaped pasta differ this from the traditional recipe. My husband prefers small shells to linguini because the shells soak up and hold the tasty clam sauce.

4 ounces small shell pasta 4 ounces extra virgin olive oil

6 cloves garlic, sliced

1/2 teaspoon Italian Seasoning

3 tablespoons parsley chopped

2 6.5 ounce cans chopped clams

2 ounces white wine

2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

1 / 2 teaspoon garlic powder Freshly ground pepper to taste

Freshly grated Parmesan

Bring pasta water to a boil and cook according to package directions. While the pasta is cooking, prepare the clam sauce as follows.

In a large pan, sauté garlic in olive oil. Carefully stir in the Italian Seasoning and parsley.

Add the juice from the canned clams and the wine and bring it all up to a boil. Lower the heat and simmer for five minutes or until the liquid is reduced by half.

Add the clams and simmer for another 2 to 3 minutes, being careful not to over cook clams and make them tough.

By now the pasta should be done to just al dente. Drain the pasta, reserving some of the water.

Drizzle olive oil over the pasta, sprinkle with garlic powder and toss. Combine the pasta and the clam sauce and cook for another 2 or 3 minutes, adding some of the pasta water if it looks too dry.

Remove from heat, grind pepper to taste and serve with grated Parmesan.

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Antoinette Jackson is a Bullard-area resident. You may reach her at Antojxn@aol.com.