He lives in my brother's neighborhood in Brooklyn.
John Turturro's latest directorial production, "Passione" (in theaters through the summer), is a musical documentary about Naples as experienced through the city's melodies and voices. "When I was doing this film," he said, "I didn't want to focus too much on food, because if I went there, I'd never get out."
Mr. Turturro and his wife, actress Katherine Borowitz, take their grub as seriously as their work. When they met at Yale Drama School in the 1980s, it was the beginning of a long, delicious life of cooking and enjoying carefully thought-out meals together.
Married for 25 years, the couple moved to their current home, a brownstone in Brooklyn, N.Y., in 1994. If they're not focused on their immediate community—they have two sons, 10 and 20—they're engaging with the one that lies just beyond their doorstep. Ms. Borowitz belongs to the Park Slope Food Coop, a neighborhood health-food store that requires members to work shifts on the premises. The reward is access to stunningly fresh, affordable ingredients that the family cooks with regularly; sit-down suppers starring simple, produce-driven dishes are of the utmost importance in the Turturro-Borowitz household. They'll be fixing them even more often this fall, when Mr. Turturro directs Ms. Borowitz on Broadway in "Relatively Speaking," a collection of one-act comedies by Elaine May, Ethan Cohen and Woody Allen.
Here's how they do it.
JT: Our kitchen at home is an eat-in. It's kind of a European kitchen. There's a big, round marble table with an iron base and a window onto the garden. It has wood cabinets all around with windows so you can see the dishware, and stainless-steel counters. My wife, Katherine, spent so much time picking out the white tile for the backsplash. We're in our kitchen more than any other room by far; it's the hub of our home.
JT: I wouldn't renovate again. My dad was a builder, so I know that pain. He built giant buildings—I did the sheet rock on the Lincoln Plaza Cinema when I was in Yale Drama School. But he also built new houses and did alterations, usually on kitchens. He'd check for termites and without fail he'd say, "I'm just going to tear the whole thing up and rebuild it." He'd make these women cry. He'd tell us, "They're either going to cry now or cry later. I'm going to make them cry now."
JT: Honestly, my mother didn't really teach me that much about cooking. She would take me shopping, but she'd say, "I'll do it." Her father, my grandfather Giovanni, was a chef on an ocean liner. I was named after him. I remember him making some eggs in olive oil with basil on good bread. I like eggs the way the Italians make it, when they put a little olive oil on it and they put it inside the bread. It makes me feel very protected.
JT: It wasn't until I had a girlfriend that I learned to cook. She said, "Listen, you've got to start washing the dishes and learning to do some things if you want to get into bed with me." I could make a little aglio e olio [pasta with garlic and olive oil]. But she taught me how to cook with a wok and make meatloaf, which I actually like.
Katherine Borowitz: I'm Jewish, he's Italian. Some Jews only make matzo for Passover. In my family we loved it and made it all the time. Our younger son doesn't really like scrambled eggs, but he does if you put matzo in it. One time John grated parmesan cheese in it. I think it's a great improvement.
JT: She used to be really into macrobiotic food—if that was still her lifestyle, we wouldn't be together. Food is that important to me. People who don't enjoy food, it's like I don't want to work with them or be friends with them.
KB: We did our wedding bare-bones, all by ourselves. We didn't have a caterer. We had John's Pizzeria.
JT: I love the real marinara sauce that Sicilians make, because they put some sugar in it. And I love the fennel and raisins. I like things that are light and delicate. I don't like cream sauces.
KB: My favorite ingredients are chervil, and hyssop from Bradley Farm [near New Paltz, N.Y.].
JT: My diet is chicken, fish, pasta and meat occasionally. If I had to choose, it'd be fish and pasta. I could give up those other things. And I like a good piece of bread. Lately, I have been trying to give up sweets. I like dark chocolate, I have to say. Fits my view of life. A little bitter, a little sweet.
JT: Espresso in Naples is the best. I could talk about it for the rest of my life. The crema, or head, is so big—twice as big as the espresso. It tastes almost like bitter chocolate. Then they make you have a shot of water rimmed with sugar after. It's like a poor man's sensory voyage.
KB: We always talk about wanting to go to Italy where he could edit a film and I could take cooking classes. John refuses to travel to places where he doesn't feel he'll eat well. And I think he's right.
JT: For cooking, I'm a saxophone guy. I listen to opera, "Sweeney Todd," old jazz, new jazz, R&B, but above all, there's a saxophonist I love, Gene Ammons. I'm crazy about him. Obviously, I've also been listening to Neapolitan music a lot the last few years. I don't like rock 'n' roll when I'm eating, or heavy metal.
KB: In our fridge, you'll usually find herring, a bottle of tonic water—my mom loves vodka tonic—and there's always parmesan. In fact, there's always a lot of cheese. Our kitchen has a lot of grains, dried beans, cereals, flours and rice. Green spelt is a favorite. I serve it hot like rice, or lukewarm with olive oil in salads. It has a nice toothiness and doesn't get mushy. Also, I like zucchini flowers—stuff them with a little ricotta, dust them in a little flour and fry them.
JT: I like spaghetti —I like that Garofalo pasta—with raw tomato [see recipe]. It's crudo. It's easy. Although, if you make it really perfect, I love an aglio e olio. If you make it al dente, I like it a lot.
KB: A cookbook I have been using a lot lately is Rozanne Gold's "Radically Simple." My younger son did a project in his fourth grade class where he made a cookbook and ended up selling it to friends and neighbors, "Diego's & Charlie's Cookbook." They made up the recipes. He likes to cook chicken noodle soup. We do it with noodles, Jewish-Italian style.
JT: One of my favorite restaurants, where I go all the time, is Bar Pitti. They make grilled fegato, liver—no one in my family likes liver but me and my mom. And I love the simple bowl of cannellini beans. I've been to a lot of Mario Batali restaurants and I think he's good. There's a place uptown called Antonucci. I love Il Buco. It's consistently good. In midtown, when I do a play, I go to Sosa Borella.
JT: My best film-shooting food experience was definitely "Passione." I shot in Naples, edited in Rome and took the film all around the country, to Florence, Bologna, Palermo, Puglia…they have amazing fish in Puglia, it's raw, crudo. Each region has its own specialties. During the wine harvest in November I had these special bottles for the beginning of the season that were fantastic, I mean, fantastic. When you do something for not a lot of money and it comes out really well and you can eat well, that makes life worth living. Even in the place we edited, they had this espresso machine that made the best coffee. This film, I think, basically ruined me.
—Edited from an interview by Charlotte Druckman
Spaghetti Al Pomodoro CrudoSERVES: 4
1 lb, 2 ounces (1-1/8 lb) ripe vine tomatoes
4 tablespoons olive oil
10 fresh basil leaves, hand-torn
2 garlic cloves, crushed and left whole
12 ounces (¾ lb) spaghetti
Salt and pepper to taste
WHAT TO DO:
1. Drop tomatoes into boiling water and blanch for about 1 minute. Remove and submerge them in ice water for 2 minutes. Once tomatoes are cool, peel skins away from the flesh.
2. Seed the tomatoes and chop them into a small dice. Add olive oil, basil and garlic and season with salt and pepper. Toss until well-mixed, cover and set aside in a cool place for 30 minutes so the flavors can marry. Remove the crushed garlic and discard.
3. Meanwhile, cook the spaghetti in a large pot of salted, boiling water until al dente, then drain. Toss with the raw tomato sauce and serve.
WSJ Article
