THE MAFIA COOKBOOK, by Joseph “Joe Dogs” Iannuzzi, Simon & Schuster, 2001, 253 pages, $18.

Can it really be only a year ago that “The Sopranos” made all things Mafia kinda cool? Yes, offices were buzzing with the antics of the lovable ruffians as they whacked those with no respect and then settled down to some comfort food from the old country, planning their next episode.

So, no better time than now to hustle out an updated version of Joseph “Joe Dogs” Iannuzzi’s 1993 butter-fest, “The Mafia Cookbook.”

Iannuzzi’s qualifications for initiating us into Family cooking are impeccable. He claims to have cooked in some of the better restaurants in Cleveland and New York before his involvement with the Mothers and Fathers Italian Association. And after getting his membership card (Gambino branch), he laid the table for some of the most notorious members of the club, while doing a bit of this and a bit of that on the side to supplement his unpaid chef’s position.

But to review this purely as a cookbook is unfair as that’s almost less than half the story here. Most of the fun to be had comes from the vignettes of Iannuzzi’s clientele at their most vulnerable – with their mouths full – as they partake in their less-than-genteel dinner conversation. When was the last time your dinner guests dolefully explained how they’d had to kill their own wives? The attached recipes for each meal are just a bonus.

There is an almost jaw-dropping yet uncomfortable humor to Iannuzzi’s kitchen-based romp through the lives, loves and indigestion of characters we would probably think badly drawn and thin (metaphorically) were they not real.

Drawn with language shorn straight from the most tired of movie scripts, we get an insight into meals where guns are as likely a feature as condiments.

“Joey, did I ever tell you about the time I popped that big fat Luchese guy?” asks Colombo soldier Little Dom Cataldo in one delightful piece of pre-prandial banter, while Dogs throws together cicoria insalata and panacotte.

“Anyway, after I whacked him, Johnny says to me, ‘What’re we gonna do with this fat pig now?'”

Surprisingly, after reading this book, the answer is not, “Eat him.”

Still, you get the idea. Either all that cliched Brando mumbling is in fact frighteningly true to life, or perhaps these were just the world’s first postmodernist gangsters.

Humor is always close to the surface in “The Mafia Cookbook,” and some incidents are laugh-out-loud funny. Take Dogs’ constant efforts to introduce a little variety to his cohorts’ menus, who insist their food be all traditional Old Country fare. Anything else could truly be a recipe to die for. Particularly entertaining is his lengthy fairy tale that explains how a Maine lobster made its way to Sicily, hence proving that lobster thermidor is as Italian as pizza. And even if they doubted his lobster tale, “They did know it was a Sicilian dish, because whenever I served this culinary delight, I’d serve a small bowl of tomato sauce to the side of the thermidor,” Iannuzzi wryly notes.

Yet there are also moments of genuine emotion in “The Mafia Cookbook.” It’s hard not to feel sympathy for Iannuzzi as he struggles with the discovery that the people he trusted most in the world are suddenly trying to kill him. Even though he jokes about the manner of his near demise – “I had this terrible accident. I kept walking into this baseball bat and this iron pipe.” – he is all sincerity when he cries to the old friend who helped arrange his blunt-instrument facial-reconstruction surgery, “You should have killed me … I look like a freak … a man wouldn’t have left me like this.”

It’s easy to share in our unlikely hero’s glee when he finally gets sweet revenge on his ex-relatives, turning to another society – the full-blooded Italians – to wreak his revenge in the courts. Which brings us to the new additions to the book, in which we find Dogs heading for the witness stand and hiding from hit men. His humor remains, as does his liking for the ladies and a little easy money here or there. The severing of his mob connections also allow Iannuzzi to express his culinary skills a little more widely – FBI agents aren’t so picky about their food’s provenance.

So as Joe heads from safe house to safe house around Florida, and continually gets jerked around and swindled – by the government this time – he’s rustling up chicken cordon bleu and shrimp Creole alongside many more Italian favorites.

It’s hard to lose with “The Mafia Cookbook.” Even if you don’t cook, Iannuzzi’s terrible tales will keep you entertained, although the occasionally unchronological order of the meals in the first half of the book can leave you a little confused. If you do want the full Joe Dogs story, you may want to search out his now out of print opus “Joe Dogs: The Life and Crimes of a Mobster.”

But if you want a handy, entertaining little primer on traditional Italian cooking – both real and invented – “The Mafia Cookbook” is certainly a solid and entertaining buy.

So, invite your capo around, call in a couple of ladies of the night, and hit the kitchen. Murder has seldom tasted so good.

Oh, by the way, if any of the Family are reading this, I’d just like to say any offense caused here has been truly unintentional. Goodfellas? You all sound like Greatfellas to me! And I really don’t want to find a moose’s head in my bed tonight.

Panacotte (Greens and Beans)

1 head escarole

4 whole cloves garlic

2 tablespoons olive oil

(extra-virgin or virgin

preferred)

1/2 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes (optional)

1 (16 ounce) can cannellini beans with juice

(or approximately 1 cup dried beans, presoaked and cooked)

Salt and pepper to taste

2 cups cubed stale bread

1/2 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese

Wash and tear the escarole. Slowly saute garlic cloves (whole) in olive oil. Remove frying pan from heat. Allow to cool slightly. Add crushed red pepper and escarole and cook approximately 15 minutes over medium heat until tender. Add beans with juice and bring to a boil. Taste for seasoning and add salt and pepper if needed. Put bread cubes in casserole dish with 1/4 cup Parmesan cheese and escarole and bean mixture. Sprinkle remaining grated Parmesan (1/4 cup) over top.

Bake in preheated 375-degree oven until slightly browned (approximately 20 minutes). Serve with crusty Italian bread, or Italian garlic bread, and wine.

(Serves 4)

Cicoria Insalata

1 bunch dandelion greens

1/2 cup olive oil (extra-virgin or virgin preferred)

1 teaspoon chopped garlic

1 tablespoon red wine vinegar (or lemon juice)

1 small red onion, sliced thin

Wash greens and pat dry. Add remaining ingredients to greens and toss thoroughly. Adjust seasoning to taste. (Serves 4)

Lobster Thermidor

2 11/2 pound Maine lobsters, live

? pound (1/2 stick) butter,

divided

1/4 cup Madeira

1/4 teaspoon paprika

Pinch of nutmeg

1/2 teaspoon arrowroot

(approximately)

2 cups heavy cream

(approximately)

1/4 teaspoon white pepper

Salt to taste

1 chicken bouillon cube

1/4 pound baby shrimp, cleaned

1/2 cup sliced canned

mushrooms

Kill lobsters by plunging them into a pot of boiling water and leaving there for one minute. Remove lobsters from pot and let cool. Remove meat from lobster by placing a knife just below the head, and split the shell down the spine to the end of the tail. Crack open the lobster in a butterfly fashion and discard the black intestinal vein. Remove green liver and red roe and set aside. Remove meat from tails, making sure not to break shells. With a mallet, crack the claws and remove the meat, trying not to damage it. Crack the knuckles and remove the meat. Put all the meat aside and rinse the backs (shells) of the lobsters in cold water, then pat dry.

In a saucepan, melt one teaspoon of butter until bubbly hot (do not scorch). Add the Madeira and cook until the alcohol evaporates. Add paprika, nutmeg, liver, and roe to mixture. Stir well and add arrowroot to thicken, until well blended and smooth. Add cream gradually, stirring constantly. Then add white pepper and salt to taste. Dissolve bouillon cube in 1 tablespoon of water or cream and stir into sauce mixture until well blended. Add shrimp and mushrooms, then cook over a low heat for approximately 3 to 4 minutes. If necessary, add more arrowroot to thicken sauce to get desired consistency.

Put all lobster meat back into shells and broil for approximately 3 minutes, basting occasionally with the remainder of the butter. Put lobsters in their shells in a baking dish or pan, and spoon all thermidor sauce over lobster meat and shells; be sure to stack the baby shrimp and mushrooms evenly in the deepest front part of the shells.

Bake in a preheated 400-degree F oven for 3 to 4 minutes, or until sauce is bubbly. Place each lobster on a plate and garnish with parsley before serving.

(Serves 2)