Showing posts with label Second Course. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Second Course. Show all posts

Jul 30, 2016

Pollo alla Cacciatora

I've been verbal in regards to misconceptions about Italian food and how foreigners mutilate Italian food names. I've written a lot about how some dishes change over time and evolve into new recipes after crossing oceans. The usual suspects being fettuccine Alfredo, spaghetti with meatballs, chicken or veal parm, shrimp scampi... One that seldom is mentioned in the list of Italian-American dishes is chicken cacciatore.


What Americans call chicken cacciatore is a broiler bird cooked in a spicy tomato sauce with mushrooms and herbs. In Italian, pollo alla cacciatora is a completely different dish. And when I say different, I mean made in a baffling amount of different ways.

With the premise that Italian cuisine is regional,  a characteristic of which is applying twists on many of its dishes, modifying them according to what part of the boot-shaped peninsula they're being cooked in, let me say that there is no correct cacciatora recipe. Each region, each village, even families in the same tenement building cook different versions of a dish. Same can be said for pollo alla cacciatora, which changes enormously according to where it's made.

For example, the people of Emilia-Romagna and Tuscany make their cacciatora with tomato sauce and varying amounts of herbs. Marche, Abruzzo and Umbria cooks omit the tomato element and prepare theirs with garlic and purple olives. In other parts of Italy this recipe is made by not sectioning the chicken in breasts, drumsticks, wings etc, rather by deboning and chopping the meat into small chunks and slow cooking it with in a supple wine, herb garlic and anchovy stew.

Whatever the recipe, the name alla cacciatora – in the hunter's style – denotes a humble, rustic preparation, that requires little skill, lots of patience and good quality ingredients.

I personally grew up eating the "in bianco" version (no tomato) that's traditionally made in Rome. Here is the recipe I learned from my mother and which I like to make for Sunday lunch.

Ingredients
5 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
3 garlic cloves, peeled and halved
1 whole free range chicken, eviscerated
Sprigs of fresh rosemary
Bunch of fresh sage
1 tbsp all-purpose or rice flour
1 glass of white wine + more for stewing
1/2 glass of white vinegar
Salt and black pepper

Method
Burn away any remaining feathers and fuzz by scorching the bird over a live flame on the stove. Wash the bird, pat dry and section into 6 or 8 parts. I leave the skin on, but you may choose to remove it.

Heat the oil and garlic in a wide, heavy-bottomed pot over medium heat. The garlic should not burn.

Place the chicken parts in the pot, season with salt and pepper and crank up the heat to brown evenly. Add the rosemary and sage, browning the meat for a few more minutes to sear evenly.

Sprinkle the flour, stir and then splash* the vinegar and wine to deglaze the pot.

*The verb, "sfumare" is a great Italian cooking term. In order to add flavor, cooks add a liquid of some sort (broth, wine, liqueur) in the initial phases of cooking to the heated pot. This operation releases steam, and triggers otherwise trapped flavor compounds. Another reason for doing this is to deglaze the pot. The sugars normally released by cooking meat caramelize on the bottom of the pot. They are precious sugars!
Splashing wine and vinegar will melt the sticky flavor bomb contained in the caramelized poultry sugars and do magic to your dish.

Once deglazed, stir the chicken parts to coat with the drippings. Add more wine, enough to drown by half the chicken parts.

Adjust seasoning, reduce the heat, cover with a tight-fitting lid and cook for 20-25 minutes. Should the chicken lose moisture during this time, add 1/2 glass of warm water. The bird is done if when piercing the thigh juices run clear.

Serve immediately after uncorking the vino.

Buon appetito!

Images courtesy of AIFB

Oct 23, 2011

Picchiapò recipe

Picchiapò recipe
Image © Gina Tringali 


I recently had the pleasure of meeting with work buddies Gina and Brette over a hearty plate of this fabulous stew during what was supposed to be a serious business meeting. We roared with laughter, downed a mezzo litro of the house wine, burned our lips with the fiery red peperoncino flavoring the sauteed cicoria ripassata, and sopped our plates clean with warm chunks of pizza bianca.
Of course we were planning future food tours and comparing past culinary travel experiences, so food was the recognized topic at the center of our conversation.

Picchiapò has a funny name, it could easily translate to "beat just a little" but I'm guessing the etymology lies elsewhere. This is a typical Roman cucina povera dish, and one that naturally involves recycling of leftovers, namely bollito. Each family makes their own, so there is no official recipe. This is the one I've always known, shared by true trasteverini Romans.
If you remember seeing the 1974 Ettore Scola masterpiece C'eravamo tanto amati, friends Vittorio Gassman, Nino Manfredi and Stefano Satta Flores eat picchiapò at a trattoria.

After boiling beef muscle and bone for 3 hours with celery, carrots, onions studded with cloves and whatever else you add in your bollito to make good meat stock; and then letting it rest overnight, you can finally proceed to making your own personal variation of picchiapò. Here's mine.


500 g (1.1 lbs) leftover boiled beef or veal, possibly not too lean - roughly chopped
2-3 yellow or red onions, finely chopped
400 g (2 cups) canned tomatoes, crushed
1 garlic clove, peeled
1 peperoncino chili pepper
1 bay leaf
Extra virgin olive oil
2 glasses of dry, white wine
Salt to taste

Wilt the onions with 3 tablespoons of olive oil in a wide saucepan. Pour in the wine and let it evaporate while the onions turn a nice golden color.
Add the tomatoes and spices/herbs, and let cook over medium heat for about 15 minutes, stirring occasionally. Sauce should reduce somewhat.
Fold in the leftover chopped meat and let it simmer gently for another 7-10 minutes.
Serve hot alongside mashed potatoes, or sauteed seasonal greens.
Buonissimo.

Sep 19, 2011

Teriyaki chicken recipe

Image © Elle_Bee

Teriyaki is a Japanese cooking technique in which fish or meats are broiled or grilled in a sweet soy sauce marinade.

I made this the other night and am still dreaming about it. The tangy, sweet first bite, the crisp skin coated with velvety glaze, the moist and delicate meat...

But I can't claim ownership of this wonderful slow-roasted Teriyaki dish. James gets all the glory, and I am forever thankful for his generosity in sharing his mom's sublime recipe.

1 whole broiler chicken, eviscerated, rinsed and dried

for the Teriyaki marinade:

1/2 cup of soy sauce
1/4 cup of sake
1 Tablespoon of sugar
1 Tablespoon of freshly grated ginger
2 cloves of garlic, crushed


Chop the chicken into classic 8 pieces: 2 drumsticks, 2 thighs, 2 breasts, 2 wings. For a lower fat content, better to skin the pieces. But why miss on such a flavoursome ingredient?

Next mix together the soy sauce, sake and sugar in a bowl until the sugar is completely dissolved. Grate in the ginger and add the crushed garlic cloves.

Using a plastic bag big enough to hold all the pieces, slowly pour in all of the marinade, seal it with a twist tie and place it into a bowl. Refrigerate and allow it to marinate overnight. That would be easy if you didn't have to shake and turn the bag every 5-6 hours or so, to marinate evenly.

The next day, preheat oven at 125° C (257° F).

Line a baking dish with aluminum foil. Make sure to lift up the edges to catch the juice (edges should be about 1-inch high). Lay the chicken pieces onto the foil and brush with the leftover marinade.

Place the baking dish in the oven and roast, basting after about 50 minutes. Cook slowly for about 2 hours, checking every 30 minutes (this may vary according to individual ovens). The baked Teriyaki chicken should be a nice golden brown color, slightly crisp on the edges, but not too dry. When the drumstick is poked, juices should run clear.

Sprinkle with toasted sesame seeds, serve with warm sake and white rice. And thank James.

May 16, 2011

Pollo arrosto al limone recipe

This recipe has been in my family ever since I can remember. I have seen variations of it in cookbooks from all over the world, and in various cuisine websites.

When we refer to this dish we usually call it "pollo coi limoni nel c..." alluding to where exactly it is the lemons enter the chicken.

Despite its uncouth name, this dish is always very popular. It's easy to make, and has saved my own culo in the course of many improvised meals, with the unexpected dinner guests routinely licking their fingers and the plate clean.

Image © paperogiallo
Essential to any successful dish–I'll never tire of repeating this–are natural, wholesome ingredients. Choose a healthy chicken, that's not been fed hormones, antibiotics, or animal protein. A bird that's had plenty of time to cluck about in wide, open spaces. I'm lucky enough to have a retailer nearby that sells San Bartolomeo broilers.
Real free-range chickens in the San Bartolomeo farm
The lemons I use are plucked off my mother's tree, two blocks from my apartment, in the garden I grew up in. I know the only thing I scrub off these lemons is dirt. No chemicals, no pesticides, no wax... niente.
Mamma's organic lemons
The ingredient list is short, and the instructions are brief. Please don't let them scare you with things like, 'the mark of a top chef is roast chicken.' This failsafe recipe will guarantee a perfect bird, crisp on the outside, with under it succulent, tender meat.


1 whole chicken, possibly free range
2 organic lemons
1 bouillon cube
Preheat oven at 180° C (350° F).

Burn off any excess feather stubble over the stove and give the bird a nice bath. Carefully towel dry inside and out.

Soften the lemons by rubbing them between your palms (good exercise for cleavage). Cut one lemon in half and poke holes in the other with a fork. Insert the lemons and the stock cube in the chicken, apologizing for intrusiveness.

Seal the opening shut using toothpicks (or poultry skewers) and kitchen string, and then tie the drumsticks together.

Place in a high-rimmed oven pan, and bake for 30 minutes, basting often with resulting juices.

Raise the heat and broil for another 10 minutes. To check final cooking, poke drumstick with a fork: juices should run clear.

This particular recipe's simplicity is directly proportionate to its mouthwatering goodness. It'd be a crime discarding the precious skin.

Buon appetito.

Feb 9, 2011

Capesante alla Veneziana recipe

After two consecutive pastry posts, I felt it was time for some savory seafood.

Capesante–Italian for Coquille Saint-Jacques–have long been the attribute of pilgrims traveling on foot to Santiago de Compostela in Spain, on the important 9th century medieval pilgrimage route, the Way of St. James. The English name of these mollusks is in fact 'pilgrim scallops.'

Their bivalve shell is also often linked to the image of Venus, the Roman Aphrodite, goddess of love and fertility. In the famous Botticelli painting, a stunning blonde Venus is born emerging from the sea, standing naked on a scallop shell.


Ingredients
12 whole, closed scallops
A bunch of Italian flatleaf parsley, finely chopped
Juice of 1 lemon
2 garlic cloves, minced
Extra virgin olive oil
100 g (1/2 cup) breadcrumbs
Salt and pepper

Open your scallops using an oyster-shucking knife, or by sliding the blade of a sharp paring knife in the slit, and delicately forcing the valves open. Save the more concave half shells, discard the flat ones.

Remove the slimy, brown membranes and separate the yellow/orange coral part from the white fleshy disc. Rinse the scallop meats and corals in cold water and pat dry. Then dredge them in the breadcrumbs.

Rinse and thoroughly dry the 6 half shells, they will be your serving dishes.

Sauté the garlic and parsley in 2 tablespoons of olive oil, add the scallops and cook briefly, until golden, about 3 minutes on each side. Dribble with lemon juice and season with salt and pepper to taste.

Place 2 molluscs and corals in each valve, daub with the cooking juice, and serve at once. Keep the chilled bottle(s) of Pinot Grigio handy.

 

Buon appetito.

Nov 10, 2010

Polpettone di tonno - Tuna loaf recipe

Blurry vision and dry mouth.

I'm driving to work in gridlock traffic. At home my son's pale forehead burns, his throat is parched and his tiny stomach, still upset from the previous night's retching, gurgles ominously. 

Soft goodbye at his larger-than-usual chestnut eyes and infinitely long lashes: I whisper a guilty 'mommy has to go to work now,' and I choke back tears, while the unfamiliar babysitter stands in the doorway pretending she's not preoccupied.

This was Friday. A day that seemed neverending.

Fortunately this season's influenza intestinale bug only lasts 24 hours. The temperature is gone, no more projectile vomiting, and several sips of coke later, smiles and pink cheeks are back on Little E's face. I on the other hand have counted numerous new silver streaks in my hair.

It's hard to juggle work and a sick child. It's impossible to stay focused on the job while the person in charge of your sole reason for living can't get a clear reading on the thermometer (I couldn't help chuckling at how the sitter took my son's temperature, more like how you carry a baguette than an armpit lodge).

Tonight I cooked him the first real solid food meal after 3 days of tea and white rice. It felt like a party and the menu had to include a celebratory favorite. So I went with tuna loaf.

On a rainy sick day, nothing restores a smile back on my child's face like a good meatloaf, unrestrained cartoon-watching during dinner, and lots of boiled potatoes. This recipe revisits a family classic, employing tuna instead of leftover roast.

It takes very little effort, and your kids will gratify you with plenty cackle at the table.

600 g (3 cups) oil-canned tuna, well drained
150 g (3/4 cup) coarse homemade breadcrumbs
200 g (2 cups) Parmigiano, grated
9 eggs
1 cup broth concentrate
A dash of ground nutmeg

Put tuna and eggs through the food processor to obtain a supple purée. Remove from blender and knead in the breadcrumbs, cheese and nutmeg; and slowly ladle in some cooled stock, to keep mixture soft. You may not need to use up all the broth, just enough to moisten the loaf. 

Wrap the tuna loaf in a clean kitchen towel and fasten the ends with knots, candy wrapper-style.

Fill a large pot with water and bring to a rolling boil. Cook the 'tuna candy' for 20 minutes. Unwrap and let it cool. Serve sliced drizzled with olive oil and lots of steamed potatoes.

Jul 23, 2010

Selena's "rosbif" recipe

I’ve known Selena since my first clumsy approach towards country-life in my early teens, many many years ago. It seemed an impossible task back then. Forcing a family summer vacation in campagna on a 14-year old whose only desire was to dance on the beach, flirt and watch TV. But I must say, I tackled it phenomenally.

Every summer, Selena and I grew closer and became good friends. Each time I’d visit her splendid country estate, I learned some new kitchen trick, surrendered peacefully to the supremacy of bees and babysat her kids. She taught me to appreciate the rural life and helped fuel my love for the simple joys of cooking.

She was with me during the very last days of single mama-to-be pregnancy, when I needed the fresh, hands-on advice of a fellow mother and the warmth of a friendly embrace. I was in full gestational nesting compulsion, and she encouraged my impetus by helping me clean out an entire wall-to-wall bookshelf, rearranging all the volumes I own, and classifying them thanks to her skillful archivist expertise.

Selena competes with my mother for the 'best cook I know' title. She delights friends and family with her spectacular cooking and engages in crazy food tournaments with my mother when we all visit together. Copious drinking, gargantuan meals–and consequent weight gaining–take place during these festive occasions.

After swimming or roaring ping pong matches, forest walks, lazy chit chat while crafting lavender sachets, or picking fruit off the trees in the orchard, I like to sit under her cherry tree, smiling in the sunset. I sip last year’s vintage Sangiovese, and sniff the aromas wafting out from the nearby kitchen. Bliss.

Here is the recipe for what she fed us 20 guests during last year's grape harvest special. With prior permission to pass it on, Selena's rosbif––as is pronounced here––a sensational (pot)roast beef.

1 kg (2 lbs) lean beef sirloin tip roast, trimmed and tied
2 garlic cloves, unpeeled
1 fat sprig of rosemary
3/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
Salt and pepper

Butcher's twine

The trick is in the lacing, she says. Start tying the roast salami-style. This is quite easy, just tie one of the ends with a piece of kitchen string and do not cut it. Then pull the string about 5 cm (2”) from where you made your first loop and circle again around the roast.

Pass the string inside the loop and pull (see picture). You'll need to use all three pairs of hands for this. Although my mother (she's the hand model in these photos) does it without thinking.


Scrub the beef with salt and pepper and place in a high-rimmed Dutch oven type broiler with the oil, unpeeled garlic cloves and the rosemary. I slide the herb sprig directly under the lacing so that it is in close contact with the meat. I do NOT however cut small slits to lodge the garlic in the beef. Too surgical. And useless, since this particular cooking method assures plenty flavoring without cutting gashes into the flesh.

Note: Be sure that whichever pot you choose as a cooking vessel, is complete with a tight fitting lid.

Turn on the heat on very high mark, and as the oil begins to heat up, sear the meat with the lid covered for 5 minutes. Uncover, turn the roast on the other side and cover again. Sear for an additional 5 minutes on the b-side, then lower the heat to medium intensity and cook covered for 20 more minutes. It is important that you do not take the lid off the cooking pot during this time. Ever!

Serve your roast beef immediately, carving generous slices against the grain, lavishly drizzled with the cooking drippings. Best if eaten along side a fresh garden salad or fluffy mashed potatoes and stewed peas.

Note: for roast cuts of different weight, calculate 3 minutes for each 100 gr (3 1/2 oz) total cooking time. For my kilo (1,000 g) of roast I counted a total of 30 minutes, searing one side for 5 minutes, the flip side for 5 minutes and then roasting for final 20 minutes (5+5+20=30). Provided no cool air enters the pot, the result is an evenly browned, sizzling outside and a lovely rare crimson heart.



Visiting Selena and her storybook family in her splendid Tuscan Renaissance Villa in the hills overlooking Prato is my idea of the perfect vacation. I usually plan it out so that I can also squeeze in hosting a few cooking classes and offer Culinary Adventures in the area.

My train whistles at 8:40 tomorrow morning. For the next 3 weeks, this is where you can find me...

Villa Rucellai ~ Canneto (PO)
Rosticciana, tomato salad, bruschetta...



Arrivederci!



Jul 17, 2010

15-minute fish recipe

Some folks are intimidated by cooking fish, and I used to be to. My fears started at the fishmonger's. Was I choosing the correct variety for what I wanted to make? Was it going to be full of bones, or likely to fall apart in the pan?

Then I discovered that in the kitchen, if the ingredients are fresh and the method stays simple, there's very little that can go wrong. Here's a first step towards conquering your seafood stovetop fears.

This ridiculously tasty fish recipe virtually takes 15 minutes to make. If you don’t trust me get a stopwatch and the following:


4 white fish fillets (any kind you like, as long as super fresh. I usually use trout, amberjack or Dover sole)
4 tbsp. breadcrumbs (preferably home made)
4 tbsp. Parmigiano cheese, grated
2 tbsp. mixed fresh herbs (basil, chives, dill, thyme, sage, parsley)
1 unwaxed lemon
Extra virgin olive oil
Salt and pepper to taste

Heat oven at 390° F, and go relax in a tub of floral infused water and bath salts.

Start the stopwatch. Scrub the lemon with baking soda to remove any grit, dry well and obtain 1 tablespoon of grated rind.

In a small bowl, mix cheese, breadcrumbs, herbs and lemon zest.

Place the fish fillets skin down on an oiled oven sheet, season with salt and pepper, then sprinkle with flavor mixture.

Drizzle with olive oil and bake in hot oven for 5 minutes. 

Check the stopwatch.

Jun 29, 2010

Tonno ubriaco recipe

Tonno ubriaco means drunken tuna: a basic recipe originating in the seaport city of Livorno. It takes 10 minutes to make and can save the day in case of unexpected (and famished) dinner guests.




4 large fresh tuna steaks
3/4 cup of red wine
1 small onion, finely chopped
2 garlic cloves, peeled
1 sprig of Italian flatleaf parsley, finely chopped – I use fresh basil because I can't eat parsley
1 cup unbleached flour
Extra-virgin olive oil
Salt and pepper to taste

Sauté the garlic in olive oil over medium heat and remove it from the frying pan before it browns. Add chopped onion and parsley/basil to the pan. 

Dredge the tuna steaks with flour and cook along with the onion for 5 minutes. Add the wine, crank up the heat and allow it to evaporate.

Serve the steaks with the resulting fondo, fresh garden greens and golden fried potatoes.

The wine? Pairs well with either white or red, as long as dry and somewhat chilled.


{the tonnara at Scopello, Sicily}

Jun 16, 2010

Frittura di calamari, fried calamari recipe

Calamari are a very popular food in Italy. The bodies, sliced into rings and deep fried along with the curled tentacles, are a classic summer meal.


I sometimes get lazy and prefer to eat calamari alone, sparing myself the hassle of having to peel, bone and pick through small prawns, other assorted crustaceans and the (however tasty) bony reef mullet, which are all typical frittura mista staples.

Here's a recipe for a simple summer seafood frittura di calamari.

500 g (1.1 lb) absolutely fresh baby calamari, cuttlefish, squid or any small octopod mollusks
100 g (1/2 cup) all-purpose flour
100 g (1/2 cup) polenta flour (cornmeal)
Peanut oil for frying
Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste
1 lemon for juice

Cut the calamari in ringlets, leaving the tentacle clusters whole. If you've caught them yourself or the fishmonger didn't clean them, be sure to trim away ink sacs (if any) and remove the indigestible parts, like eyes, innards, cartilage, beak and quill nestled in the center of the head.

There's a video HERE that can help you learn how to do this easily. 

Combine the polenta with the flour, a dash of salt and freshly ground black pepper in a gallon-size zipper seal freezer bag and add the calamari pieces. Seal closed and give the bag a vigorous shake, to coat the pieces well.

Refrigerate for 20 minutes. Remember, temperature shock is key for proper frying.

Heat a generous amount of olive oil in a frying pan, the more the better. When the oil is piping hot, but not quite smoking (that means its burning!), remove the dredged calamari from the fridge and out of the bag, frying it in small batches in the olive oil. Small batches avoid the oil to maintain its hot temperature.

Fry these small quantities for no more than a minute. The oil will bubble up and cook the calamari all over, so there will be no need to turn. The result will be a lightweight crunchy crust and a tender, sweet fleshy inside.

Rest your fried calamari to dry briefly on a paper towel, dribble with lemon juice and eat with your hands, sensually burning fingers and tongue.


Jun 7, 2010

Swordfish steak recipe

Catania’s fish market is an incredible place, just around the corner from the city's cathedral. The stalls are scattered over an impressive area, under the Carlo V walled tunnel, the open Piazza Alonzo di Benedetto, stretching as far as Piazza Pardo. And although it's called a fish market, 'a piscarìa sells everything.


From 5 a.m. to about noon, the market is always crowded and busy. The overlapping voices of the vendors yelling at each ear–pushing their merchandise in front of your eyes baiting you to buy more, and clients bargaining prices, make you feel like you’ve been sucked into an Arabian souk.

During my sojurn in Catania, what I would go to the Pescheria looking for was, say, a ball of butcher’s twine; and I’d regularly leave with an abundance of fresh produce, herbs, dried fruits, amazing oranges, almonds, and huge swordfish steaks. So flabbergasted by the whole whirlwind of confusion, the assault on the senses with cacophony of sounds, rainbow of colors and assortment of smells, I hardly remember how that would happen.


Swordfish steaks must be eaten super fresh, grilled and cut about 1-inch thick. The slices need to be cooked with the skin intact, as this keeps the scaly flesh well compact. If you don’t want to barbecue, grill the steaks on a hot griddle or in a non-stick oven pan over the hot stove. Heat is key, but no oven please.


Ingredients for 4 guests:

4 swordfish steaks, 1-inch (2 cm) thick
1 tablespoon fresh mint leaves, torn
1 garlic clove, thinly sliced
1/2 cup white wine vinegar
1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
2 tablespoons toasted sesame seeds
Salt and cracked black pepper to taste

Baste the swordfish with the mint leaves and garlic in olive oil and white wine vinegar, marinading them briefly before cooking.

Heat the cooking vessel over fierce heat (in this case induction stoves may be too mild) and cook the steaks either on a hot griddle or over the coals, turning them to brown on both sides. Occasionally baste with the marinade.

Cook the swordfish steaks until well seared on the outside, and still tender but not rare on the inside. Slit a small gash in the flesh to check for doneness.

Lightly salt, sprinkle with the sesame seeds and serve at once. Oh, and pass the peppermill, please.


My doctor told me to stop having intimate dinners for four. 
Unless there are three other people. 
–– Orson Welles

Jun 3, 2010

Costata alla Pizzaiola recipe

As you may have noticed, Aglio, Olio & Peperoncino has undergone a few changes. Thank you for being patient while I sorted through links, updated my recipe index, promoted new features and introduced a series of fresh new activities.

Do you wish to keep up to date with Aglio, Olio & Peperoncino's brand new topics, articles, posts and tasty meals? Just sign up for our mailing list in the sidebar! You'll receive a weekly newsletter with our latest activity, plus offers, give-aways, cooking tips, wine notes and upcoming food events.

But enough talk, let's get right to business. Today we're making Costata alla Pizzaiola, a hearty Nepolitan beef rendition that involves the use of oregano enriched pizza-style tomato sauce (hence the name) oozed over a sizzling rib eye steak. Fussy vegetarian-prone children and voracious lovers equally adore.






Ingredients for 4 guests:

4 entrecôtes (steaks cut from between the 9th and 11th rib), or rib eye beefsteak
2 cups canned cherry or Roma tomatoes
3 cloves of garlic, peeled and chopped
Extra virgin olive oil
Salt and pepper to taste
Oregano (here you can go crazy)
1 teaspoon organic brown sugar

In a wide saucepan, sauté the garlic in 3 tablespoons of olive oil. When it begins to tan, add the tomatoes, a dash of salt, fat pinch of oregano and the sugar. Cook uncovered over medium heat until sauce is no longer watery, about 10-15 minutes.

Heat a griddle to fiery hot and sprinkle with coarse sea salt.

Trim only a little fat off the steak, nick the nerves and broil the meat for a few minutes to rare.

Pour the Pizzaiola sauce over the steak on the griddle and crank up the heat for another minute or two. Spattering will ensue, so be careful.

Transfer to a warm plate and wait 10 minutes before devouring. Keep bread handy for mandatory scarpetta *





* The custom in which a small piece of hand-held breadcrumb mops up any delicious food residue in plate and is eaten on repeat until plate is sweeped clean.

Mar 8, 2010

Branzino al sale recipe

Branzino, which is also known as spigola (sea bass) is a tasty fish, with relatively few, easy-to-pick bones and firm flesh that handsomely holds its shape when cooked.

Image © ionino

This is one of the most effective ways to cook branzino. The chemical simplicity of this dish is astounding: what salt and heat perform on the sea creature is a miracle, extracting unimaginable juices and delicate flavors. It tastes wonderful, completely non-fat and looks stunning served on its baking oven tray. Considering that best results occur with bigger fish, you may want to share this with others in a communal food orgy. This is all you need: 

1 branzino or any local large fish (sea bass, yellow tail, bream, red snapper––whatever's fresh that day), weighing 2 lbs minimum
4 lbs of sea salt
1 black olive, pitted

Have your fishmonger clean the fish for you, eviscerating it but not removing the head nor scaling it, you'll need the scales to hold the skin together and the head for taste and show.

Preheat oven at 200° C (400° F).

In a large mixing bowl wet the salt with 1/2 cup of water or until it feels like snow. Mix with your hands and get a free scrub treatment. 

Blanket your oven tray with parchment paper and a 1/2-inch layer of dampened salt. Lay the fish in the middle of the tray and start piling on the rest of the salt, covering it completely. Shape the salt to follow the contours of the body of the fish, packing down firmly. This will be the crust that will form during baking. It will prevent the heat from drying the fish during cooking, and will not make the flesh too salty, to the contrary. 

This genius cooking procedure assures deliciously moist meat, fat free and perfectly seasoned. If you like, you can draw fish scales in the salt and place half a black pitted olive as the eye. 


Bake, undisturbed, for 25-35 minutes, depending on oven power. If you use one, insert a thermometer into the thickest part of the branzino: when cooked, the temperature should read 135 degrees. 

Remove the pan from the oven and take it directly to the table. Let the fish rest for 10 minutes, while guests admire your genius. With the back of a large spoon, give the salt shell a good whack and start peeling the crust away. The skin will come off with the crust. 


Spoon the fish off the bone, and serve. Group elation will surely follow.

branzino al sale, baked in a salt crust
Method images @ honestlyyum.com

Feb 24, 2010

Brasato al Barolo recipe

Classic, elegant and Piemontese. Quintessential "secondo" entrée, Brasato is ideally braised with the "king of wines" Barolo. Since this particular meat recipe yields 10 servings, I suggest you save it for a special occasion, and get a head start on the invitations.

As handed to me personally by Sonia in her divine Trattoria dai Saletta, in Torino:


1 1/2 kg (3.3 lbs) beef suitable for braising, in one piece (I used brisket–but sirloin and round are OK too), not too lean or it will be dry
1 1/2 liters (a bottle and a half) of Barolo or similar full bodied, tannic red wine
3 garlic cloves, halved
4 onions, minced
4 carrots, minced
a stalk of celery, minced
2 bay leaves
a sprig of rosemary
5 cloves
100 g (1/2 cup) extra virgin olive oil
A fistful of flour
Salt and cracked black pepper to taste

Tie the meat with butcher's twine so it will keep its shape, dredge it lightly with flour and sear it in a pot with the oil. Once it’s well browned on all sides, add the minced vegetables, garlic, bay leaf, rosemary and cloves. Season with salt and pepper, cover and simmer over a low flame until the vegetables are translucent.

Pour in the wine to cover the meat completely, place the lid back on the pot and cook gently until the meat is done, about 2 hours, turning the roast occasionally.

When the meat is done remove it to a platter and discard the string, bay leaf and rosemary. Strain the cooking fondo, pour it over the meat, and serve. The meat will be so tender you'll carve it with a spoon.

Serve with mashed potatoes or steaming polenta, and the other vegetables you like (as long as not too obtrusive). And, of course, a bottle of Barolo.


Dec 29, 2009

Cotechino e lenticchie recipe

As the world prepares its champagne flûtes, firecrackers and party frocks, here in Italy we welcome the arrival of the new year strictly adhering to tradition.

Just like the American custom of dropping a ball of some sort, be it an orange in Florida or a sparking orb in Times Square, in some southern regions of Italy, all things which are old are discarded in riddance of all accumulated ill, and as an act of welcoming in the New Year’s fortune.

Italian New Year's eve, you see, is all about superstition.

In tune with the average Italian theatrical and imaginative character, it is believed that the older the item thrown away and more exaggerated the gesture, the greater the amount of luck generated. So don’t be surprised if at midnight on December 31st you see an old dishwasher flying out a window. Napoli, being the drama queen of the boot-shaped Peninsula, besides an addiction to exploding firecrackers and home made fire-work bombs, is the city where at dawn on January 1st, the streets are a bizarre exhibit of jettison debris. Free vintage everything, from toilet bowls, old newspapers saved for the occasion, closet clutter, old rugs and tiles, stripped shreds of wallpaper, out-of-fashion clothes, old calendars, chipped furniture.

Legend has it that the fumes of alcohol and gunpowder fogged the minds of those who tossed 92 year-old Grandma Luigina from the kitchen balcony that time.

Another fortune bearing midnight exercise is that of eating three white grapes on the twelfth bell toll.


My favorite luck-endearing function is that of slipping on sexy bright red lace underwear right after midnight. Fire engine red underwear, or any foundation garment in close proximity to the serendipitous bottom, is said to bring money and lots of good sex in the coming year.The most powerful luck engendering measure on Italian New Year’s eve is however the menu. The typical Capodanno (“head of the year”) dinner is one monumental good luck charm. It is composed of stewed lentils and thick slices of cotechino (lentils are said to bring money, zampone or cotechino, a large spiced pork meat sausage, represents phallic abundance), and some even delay dinner to past midnight so as to eat this palatable dish on the date of the New Year and not one minute earlier to avoid jinxing its effect.

The Cotechino originated in the province of Modena, a land of unhinged poetic epicureans, famous race cars, liberal politicians and generous foodstuffs. This fresh pork sausage is quite large, usually about 2 inches in diameter and 8 to 9 inches long. It is made from pork rind and meat from the cheek, neck and shoulder, and is usually seasoned with nutmeg, cloves, salt and pepper. The best cotechino is delicately flavored and has a soft, almost creamy texture.

I was fed this rich winter dish on a torrid mid-August day at countryside inn while on a film shoot and my liver still resents it. I later found out that in the nearby unconventional town of Castelnuovo Rangone, the mayor erected a statue to the town's most popular citizen honoring its annual sacrifice. A life-size bronze pig dominates the main piazza facing the church.

So, bearing in mind that on the night of December 31st, a timed combination of lentils, cotechino, grapes and red briefs will guarantee 365 days of bliss, here is my mother's recipe for Italy's typical fortune-bearing New Year's Eve fare. You have 3 days to get it together.



Cotechino e Lenticchie recipe

1 kg (2 lb) pre-cooked Cotechino di Modena (a well stocked deli or Italian specialty store will inevitably sell it, especially around holiday season)
400 g (2 cups) brown lentils (best if you can get your hands on the Castelluccio di Norcia or Santo Stefano di Sessanio variety - very tiny and delicious)
1/2 white onion, chopped
1/2 carrot
1/2 celery rib
1 meat bouillon cube
4 tablespoons unseasoned tomato sauce
3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

Arrange the lentils on a sheet pan or wide platter and sort through them to pick out any small rocks, pieces of dirt, lentils with holes or cavities, badly misshapen or shriveled ones and those greatly undersized or discolored.

Next, wash the lentils twice in cold water – with this cooking procedure there’s no need to soak them.

Follow the manufacturer's cooking instructions for the cotechino. Some notable brands of precooked cotechino (Fini, Citterio, etc.) require a minimum 20-minute boiling time of the air packed aluminum wrapped cotechino, but each maker applies different instructions. Once the cotechino is cooked, set it aside and cover it with plastic wrap. Do not refrigerate.

Wash, rinse and dry the vegetables. Chop the onion and leave the carrot and celery whole. Put the chopped onion, carrot and celery in a large pot with a splash of olive oil. Simmer lightly for 5 minutes over low heat, stirring with a wooden spoon. Add the lentils, bouillon cube and tomato sauce, stirring for another 5 minutes.

In a separate pot bring 2 liters (2 quarts) of water to a boil. Pour enough boiling water to cover the lentils. As it dries up, keep adding water as you would for risotto (without having to constantly stir), as the lentils absorb the liquid. You may not use all the water, or you may have to heat some more as the lentils drink up during cooking.

Guessing the correct cooking time of lentils is a challenge. It's important to obtain a thick, homogeneous, solid soup. Lentils must be well cooked to a soft texture, but not puréed.

Wine? In order to degrease the rich character of cotechino, wines rich in carbon dioxide are best. These include Lambrusco Grasparossa di Castelvetro, or Pinot Nero Spumante Metodo Classico dell’Oltrepò Pavese, whose vinification is white.

Slice the cotechino and serve over a bed of lentils. Possibly wearing indecent red lingerie.
Buon Anno!

Dec 17, 2009

Stocco e Patane - Cod and potato casserole recipe

Christmas Eve in the southern regions of Italy is traditionally all about a massive fish-based dinner, family, tombola, and midnight Mass. From now until Natale, I shall be posting recipes of typical Christmas fare, desserts and traditional holiday foods.
Last week Italia Living published an article on the history of Pandoro, a typical Italian Christmas cake. Today I will tell you about a tasty fish entree of which I am very fond of.

Stocco is the Neapolitan distortion of the term used for stoccafisso, which is sun-dried cod. When someone is said to be as rigid as a stoccafisso, the implied similarity to the Atlantic fish plank is quite evident. The surfboard-stiff slabs need reviving with overnight soaking, so if you’re in a hurry to taste this delicious cucina povera dish, I suggest you have your fishmonger prepare and clean some fresh codfish for you, divided into 6 fillet portions.
Image © Claudio Cicali


This tasty peasant dish from Napoli is–contrary to the belief that fish is laborious to cook–very easy to make. Stocco e Patane is delicious when paired to a chilled bottle of Fiano di Avellino or a room temperature carafe of young Chianti Classico (I personally prefer red with tomato-stewed cod).

6 codfish fillets 
600 g (1.3 lbs/3 cups) potatoes, peeled and cut in wedges
2 small onions, thinly sliced 
1 can (14 oz) San Marzano tomatoes, roughly chopped
Extra virgin olive oil 
Salt
A small pinch of dried oregano 

Drizzle some olive oil in a high-rimmed pot (Dutch oven). Place a layer of sliced potatoes and onions on the bottom of the pot. Cover with the chopped tomatoes, season with salt and sprinkle with oregano. On this bed, lay the fish fillets and repeat the layering.

Season with a bit more salt and oregano, and drizzle with a little more olive oil. Cover and simmer over medium heat for 10-15 minutes.

Avoid stirring and check for doneness. If the fish is cooked before the potatoes, remove it and continue cooking the vegetables.

When ready to serve, place the fish back in the pot and heat for a minute or two.

Serve the fillets warm, topped with the onion and potato slices.







Nov 30, 2009

Involtini al Pomodoro recipe

Cooking trends chase each other like waves, and those who follow the fashions accuse people who prefer traditional regional cuisines of granite immobility. Rather than that, you’ll agree that Italian regional cooking displays continuity, and when the current finger food fad or fusion sushi fashion is long forgotten, people will still be enjoying the traditional family dishes. Like for example, involtini.

Involtini are made all over Italy. But this very easy meat recipe from le Marche is one of my favorite regional unfailing meat roll-ups.
Image courtesy of Forchettina

12 veal or tender beef cutlets, flattened (total weight 500 gr = 1.1 lb)
150 g (3/4 cup) prosciutto, sliced
2 garlic cloves, thinly cut into slivers
400 g (2 cups/14 oz) unseasoned canned tomatoes, crushed
1 glass dry, white wine
A small bunch of Italian flat leaf parsley, finely chopped (optional)
A bunch of fresh basil
4 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
Salt and pepper

If your veal cutlets are more than 1 cm (1/3-inch) thick, gently flatten them out with a meat tenderizer or the blade of your kitchen knife laid flat.

Take the prosciutto, chopped parsley (if you're using it) and a slivers of garlic and combine them, seasoning with salt and pepper. Spread the “filling” over the slices of veal and roll them up, using a couple of toothpicks to hold each involtino shut.

In a skillet large enough to hold all the involtini in a single layer, sauté them in olive oil over a gentle flame, turning them carefully.

When the involtini are evenly browned, pour in the wine and let it evaporate. Add the tomatoes and cook for 20 minutes. If necessary, reduce the tomato sauce by raising the temperature, but in that case remove the involtini from the pan to avoid overcooking. Right before serving them hot, sprinkle the involtini with freshly hand-torn basil leaves. Remember to remove toothpicks before devouring all with crusty bread to sop up the dribbly sauce.

Wine? A nice Conero red or–for those of you who are white wine lovers–a nice Verdicchio di Matelica.

Oct 14, 2009

Salumi Primer - Italian cured meats

This evening I dined in a restaurant whose first menu entry for antipasto was a dish called Elogio del Porco, which roughly translates to ‘Plaudit to the pork.’ Although generally eaten as antipasto, salumi–or cold cuts–are a selection of cured meats often known also as "affettati misti" that can be enjoyed freely at any point of the meal. Salumi span a wide assortment of (generally) pork-based cured meats, and for a clear definition of salumi all you really have to do is eat some handsomely folded in a warm bread roll. Like this.


My favorite specialty store to visit (much more than a jeweler or a haute couture boutique) is a salumeria, a local Italian deli. This especially when I'm in Rome's centro storico, the central old part of the city, where the Roman deli is commonly called a pizzicheria, presided over by a pizzicagnolo, an artisan managing a sharp slicer, fragrant specialties and palatable delights. Another name for this exquisite little shop of wonders is Norcineria (from the town of Norcia, renowned for its cured meats), where the person behind the counter is a Norcino. Gastronomia or Alimentari–other ways of calling a salumeria–are places where one can also purchase a wide range of prepared gastronomy items, from salads to pre-cooked dishes, dry goods and canned delicacies.

Whatever the name, the smell in the store is divine and the arrangement of cheeses and cold cuts is a work of art, balance, and efficiently creative use of space. When the salumeria is strategically located next door to a fornaio, there is no way out: purchase some warm bread, slice it open and fold in some freshly cut cheese or cured meat, or a mix of both, and enjoy your life then and there. When you are done, crumbs littering your chest and smile widening on your face, you can walk another few steps to the nearest bar and get yourself un caffé.

Some of the distinctive cold cuts that fall under the generic domain of Salumi are porco-based, but not all. There are hundreds of types of salumi found in Italy, some of the most popular are:

Bresaola

Bresaola is salt-cured beef typical product of the Alpine valley Valtellina. Bresaola is usually served finely sliced, and seasoned with olive oil, salt, and pepper, and lemon juice. Some like to add flecks of Parmigiano. I personally serve mine dribbled with pink grapefruit slices, olive oil, freshly ground black pepper and a little arugula.


Culatello

This lean and rosy, refined variety of raw prosciutto ham, is made with a part of the normal ham cut closest to the pig's rump. The name refers in fact to the animal's culo, a vernacular term for 'rear end.' Universally considered superior, aged culatello has a clean, delicate flavor. It is highly prized and priced, but worth every penny it's worth.


Finocchiona

This is a Tuscan fennel seed flavored salami that is aged less than regular salami, it is more of a soft sausage. Legend has it a thief stole a salami and hid it in a bushel of fennel seeds while chased down by guards. When he returned to pick up the booty, he found the aroma of the herb had seeped int the cured meat.

Galantina

Galantina is a delectable meatloaf made from boned poultry, stuffed with ground meat, hard boiled eggs, giardiniera, ham, truffles and other diced ingredients, pressed into a cylindrical shape, and poached in an aspic-like stock.



Lardo

The word translates as lard, and that's what this is, thick fat with some thin streaks of pink meat, cured with herbs, pepper, and salt. The best-known Italian lard is from the town of Colonnata, which is a small village perched on a ridge between two marble quarries in the Apuane Mountains above Carrara (the place where Michelangelo went to shop raw material for his sculptures).

Lardo can be used as a flavoring ingredient in other dishes (thinly sliced and wrapped around a filet mignon, for example), although it is best served as is, thinly sliced with plain toasted bread. If your cholesterol count can take it, this is one of the finest affettati around.

Rendered lard that's used for cooking as a shortening, is called strutto, and looks like a white paste.


Lonza

This is a salume made from pork shoulder, which has been trimmed of its fat, slipped into a casing, and then salted and air-cured with herbs and spices, treating it much like prosciutto. It is one of the leanest cold cuts available, and rather delicately flavored. Capocollo, as it sometimes also called, is sometimes marinated in wine.


Mortadella

This si a precooked and highly seasoned sausage the size of my den. Mortadella is also known as Mortadella di Bologna, the signature cold cut of the city.

Mortadella is a cooked salume, made from ground pork meat that's been stuffed in a casing with peppercorns, pistachios and cubes of pink fat. The popular bologna is usually sliced and served as a sandwich filler. I usually have my pizzicagnolo carve a thick 1-inch slice and then cube it. I place the cubes in small bowls scattered around the house and nibble them during mid morning housework. And mortadella rules stuffed in warm pizza bianca.


‘Nduja

This is a soft, spreadable Calabrian sausage that's been ground with tons of spicy red pepper, which lend it bold red color and a fiery flavor. The best way to enjoy 'nduja is scooping it out of the casing with a spoon, softening it further over mild heat, and dipping bread or veggies into it.

Pancetta

Dry cured pork's stomach meat. Pancia means abdomen, pancetta is also the affectionate name for the sexy pot-belly. Pancetta is made from the same cut used to make bacon. However, pancetta is not smoked, and there's no added sugar in the curing process.


Porchetta di Ariccia

Porchetta in the town of Ariccia is an institution, and no fair or festive gathering would be complete without it. Porchetta is commonly served in the town's many typical fraschette, local informal eateries where paper tablecloths and abundant portions are synonyms of quality. The Ariccia trademark porchetta looks very much like a cliché banquet prop from a Roman epic blockbuster. Fact is the Romans were great fans of porchetta, which has traveled through time and landed on our tables virtually unchanged from the one Nero ate during his orgies.

The ingredients are the same, a large boned and bound pig with an apple in its mouth, salt, pepper, garlic and herbs among which wild fennel or rosemary, depending on the Norcino who assembled it. The pork is spit roasted and served sliced, enjoyed with warm Genzano bread and abundant vino dei Castelli which is a table wine made in and around Frascati.


Prosciutto

The Italian word for ham is Prosciutto. In this case dry-cured ham, which has not been cooked. Italians call it simply prosciutto, short for prosciutto crudo, which means "raw." Prosciutto is a specialty of northern Italy, the signature Prosciutto di Parma and Prosciutto di San Daniele, are the sweetest, loveliest, melt-in-your-mouth hams in the universe.


Prosciutto Cotto

Cotto means 'cooked,' and this what this ham is, the kind you purchase in a deli as a cold cut. Once boned and trimmed, the pork legs are cured in salt, water and fine spiced brines that impart the cooked hams their typical aroma. The pork legs are then put in special molds to be cooked in steam ovens. The ones to choose from the myriad available on the market are the hams containing no gluten, milk proteins, phosphates, or MSG. Sometimes prosciutto cotto is also roasted, a process that provides a delicately sophisticated flavor.



Salame

The large sausages made with ground pork and cubes of fat, seasoned with salt and spices, which are then stuffed into a pig's intestine casing are the common definition for salame. Like prosciutto crudo, Italian salame is raw*, with the meat being cured by the salt in the spice mix. Salame piccante, has red peppers in it mixture. In the United States this known as pepperoni, and for some unknown reason it commonly garnishes pizza! The town of Felino, just outside of Parma in the Emilia Romagna region, is famed for its namesake salame Felino. Then there's Salame Milano, a popular standard whose pork fat is finely ground; and there's Cacciatorino, which means 'little hunter,' and indeed tiny he is. Corallina has 3 squared chunks of white fat in the middle of the otherwise fairly lean slice. Ungherese is lightly smoked and ambrosial in sandwiches. So you see, calling it simply salami is an oversimplification.

Soppressata, or Coppa

This is a sausage made from leftover pork cuttings, like cartilage and pieces of meat, which are stuffed into a casing and then cooked. The taste and texture are rather particular; people generally make sure their guests like it before offering it.


Speck

Speck is a salt-cured and cold-smoked ham of the Südtirol, or Alto Adige. The production of Speck remains quite artisanal and has recently obtained IGP status, which means it can only be made in the Südtirol and only following local traditional production methods. Speck is commonly served as antipasto.


Plaudit to the pork, then. I agree.



*Trichinosis, you wonder? The disease caused by trichinae, typically from infected meat, especially pork, characterized by digestive disturbance, fever, and muscular rigidity? It's virtually unknown in Italy. The salt and the aging process guarantees salumi and other pork-based cold cuts to be a safe food because the salt ties up all the water, making it impossible for any form of bacteria to grow.


Images courtesy of NovelliSalumi.it, Buttalapasta.it, Sorrentino.it

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