La dispensa, the Italian pantry

Dark, musty and cool. Walking in the typical Italian family larder would often evoke fear and mystery. Children were seldom allowed entrance. Selected females were granted access and only for retrieving specific items. Otherwise the family matriarch–usually the grandmother–had full control of the stocked supplies and was sole holder of the keys to the food cellar.

Image © Life123.com

Preparing and stocking up food in ancillary capacity was a necessity in times of post-war restoration and pure common sense. No supermarket down the street for last minute grocery shopping. Produce was generally always home grown, consumed according to season, and had to be pickled, canned and bottled in order to last the entire year.

This meant the dispensa, or pantry, had shelves upon shelves of oil preserved sausage, pickled vegetables from the garden, syrup soaked fruits, whole legs of prosciutto and foot long salami hanging from the beams. Sacks of dried beans, chick peas and lentils. Demijohns of home made pommarola tomato preserve, bunches of dried herbs hung on wire racks, salted meats, dry goods of all sorts like flour, polenta, semolina. Barrels of grains and cereal. And gallons of wine, emanating alcoholic fumes that permeated the shadowy secret rooms.

Heaven, essentially, in a half dozen square foot enclosure.

Image © nlha.com

This however is the Third Millennium, so pantries and alimentary storerooms have succumbed to walk in closets. Slingback Manolos have dethroned Salame Milano. Mason jars are used more as decorating accessories than for storing. Canning and pickling are obviously more labor intensive than just driving down to the supermarket.

But frugality in times like these has become a necessary way of life. A well-stocked storeroom or kitchen pantry actually helps you cook faster, allows you to waste fewer ingredients, offset your carbon footprint, and save money.

Image © simple-green-frugal-co-op

I've decided to adopt my family's ancient pantry tradition by clearing out a broom closet. It's my project for this fall. I will stock my newly inaugurated pantry with jams and preserves made this summer with fruits and vegetables picked fresh from the garden; I'll shop weekly and in season. I'll buy in bulk, and keep crucial supplies constantly topped up.

I'll be a little ant.

If you have any small storage space at your disposal, you too could easily convert it into a pantry. OK if it’s filled with old toys, clothes or broken utensils. All you need to do is a little feng shui clutter clearing and be motivated by this persuasive Aesopic logic: prepare and stock up.

The items listed below, I feel, should never be missing from the kitchen. They are, in my glutton opinion, the bare necessities.

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Load freezer/refrigerator, cupboard, balcony and create your own Italian dispensa with:

Frozen free range chicken breasts, individually wrapped
Frozen white fish fillets, individually wrapped
Frozen puff pastry sheets (you can find frozen puff pastry sheets in any supermarket freezer case. I’ve produced lots of puff pastry made from scratch, but it’s an arduous process requiring two days of rolling, pounding, letting the dough cool and rest, then rolling and letting rest again, and then freezing it in batches. Keeping the frozen variety on tap for when I need it in a hurry is easier)
Mixed salumi (prosciutto, salami, bacon, mortadella etc.)
Cheese (at least 2 types, eg. Fontina and Gorgonzola, plus steadfast grated Parmigiano)
Milk (whole or skimmed; nonfat is not milk)
Eggs (at least 6)
Lettuce, arugula, mesclun, etc. (entry may include pre-washed salad)
Lemons (unwaxed organic)
Fresh basil by the ton
Onions (at least 3 types, white onions, red and scallions)
Potatoes (if you store them along with an apple, they won't bud)
Carrots
Celery (copious amounts)
Garlic
Salt (rock, Kosher, Himalayan, black, sea salt: the more the merrier)
Black pepper (best bought whole, and then freshly ground in a pepper mill)
Peperoncino (Italian hot chili peppers, in flakes or whole)
Extra-virgin olive oil (the best quality you can find)
Dried mushrooms (porcini are a good investment)
All purpose flour
Cake flour
Cornmeal (coarse ground polenta)
Farro (barley is a good substitute)
Dried beans (2 types)
Pesto sauce
Pommarola tomato preserve
Canned tomatoes
Marmalade
Chicken broth (best if homemade from scratch: stock freezes beautifully in quart containers, ice cube trays or in ziploc© storage bags. Otherwise, you can opt for low-sodium chicken stock cubes or granulated formula; those labeled "organic" contain no MSG)
Pasta (a minimum of 2 types, eg. spaghetti and penne), at least 500 gr each
Arborio rice, at least 500 gr
Bread (a good quality loaf plus some sliced sandwich bread, stale bread can be recycled or ground into crumb)
Oil packed tuna
Anchovies (the best-quality are those packed in salt; they need to be be rinsed very well before using, and may need deboning. If salt-packed are not available, look for oil-packed anchovies in little glass jars)
White wine for cooking (a minimum of 2 bottles)
Red wine for emotional rescue (minimum 4 bottles)

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What's never missing from your pantry?

Risotto mantecato recipe

Il riso nasce nell’acqua e muore nel vino.

(Rice is born in water and must die in wine.)

~Italian Proverb

Italians have been growing rice for a very long time, and have developed many ways of preparing it. The best known is certainly risotto, which is a delicious and delicate alternative to pasta. It’s also much easier to prepare than people think, and is extraordinarily versatile. Making a good risotto is much like riding a bicycle: it takes a little bit of practice to begin with, and a certain amount of concentration after that. Risotto is mainly very sensitive to timing, and this is why what is served in a restaurant (no matter how good it may be) will rarely display that rich creamy texture and just-right doneness that a good homemade risotto will.

I love this delicate, sophisticated and yet simple risotto recipe. I like to dust this creamy delight with white truffle shavings, whenever season (and wallet) allows.

"Mantecato" means buttery, and this risotto certainly will be; it’s a celebration-day dish and will be just the thing for a very special occasion. Yields 4 plentiful servings.

500 g (2 1/2 cups or 6 large fistfuls*) Carnaroli or Arborio rice
100 g (1/2 cup) unsalted butter
2 small scallions, very finely minced
1 glass dry white wine
100 g (1/2 cup) fontina cheese, finely sliced or diced
200 g (2 cups) freshly grated Parmigiano
1 liter (1 quart) simmering beef broth
50 g (1/4 cup) fresh white truffles (optional, brushed clean)

Sauté the scallion in half the butter until it begins to turn golden, then add the wine and cook over a low heat, until translucent and the wine has fully evaporated.

Add the rice, mix well, and then begin adding broth, a ladle at a time as it absorbs while cooking the grains, stirring gently all the while.

When the rice has almost completely reached the al dente stage, reduce the heat and stir in the remaining butter and the cheeses, cooking a minute or two more.

Shave half the truffles into the risotto using a truffle slicer and dot the surface with a few flecks of butter. Let the risotto rest covered for a minute, then stir briefly, transfer it to a fine bone china serving bowl, and shave the remaining truffles over it with a dramatic gesture to impress guests.

Image © Micol

* Empirical Formula | When cooking risotto, my grandmother would never weigh or measure the amount of rice needed with a scale or a cup. Her measurement was her fist capacity. One large, overflowing fistful per person plus one extra, was her rule. This purely experiential method worked for her then as it does for me today, and you may want to apply it yourself. In my risotto recipes I will however always include the standard cup equivalent as well. The usual average amount to cook per person is between 50 gr and 100 gr (1/4 to 1/2 cup), depending on how rich the other ingredients are, and guest appetite. But I sincerely trust Nonna's fail-safe system more.

Polenta recipe

Polenta is one of those ageless culinary lords, like bread. It has sprung from the hunger of mankind, and without apparent effort has always carried with it a feeling of strength and dignity and well-being.

~ M.F.K. Fisher, "How to Cook a Wolf"

Polenta is an ancient Mediterranean dish. The Greeks, Romans and others who lived in Italy in ancient times made puls by cooking farro, millet and other grains or chestnut flour in water or milk, then added legumes, vegetables, eggs and cheese for a complete and nutritious meal. The dish changed after Columbus returned to Europe with corn from the Americas in the 16th century. Corn cultivation expanded to Italy in the 17th century and was rapidly adopted, especially in the Northern regions. Polenta made with corn became a staple of the lower classes, in part because the "new" grain was cheaper than wheat used for bread, but also because of the sense of satiety it provided.

A peasant tradition established the custom of eating polenta on the spianatoia, a large wooden board placed on the common table with all the family gathered around. The polenta was spread in a large circle on the spianatoia, with a single sausage placed in the center–usually the only protein and rich meat available that day. Starting from the outer part, each seated guest proceeded inward consuming the section of polenta in front and tunneling their way to the middle of the table towards the sausage. The race was who could get to the sausage first, wiping the table clean.

That sense of family aggregation has endured. In the 21st century, my mother considers polenta the best food to keep her warm on a cold and rainy winter day. We live in Rome and the climate is mostly mild. She has, however often taken advantage of a providential summer thunderstorm to suggest making polenta. Peering at the light drizzle from the window I have often heard her announce: “Evviva! Perfect day for polenta.” She stirs hers in the mandatory copper cauldron called paiolo, serves it in wooden tray-like dishes that are supposed to keep it warm longer, and seasons each portion with a ladleful of sugo con le salsicce e spuntature (tomato and meat sauce with sausages, see recipe below), and finally sprinkles grated Parmigiano over all.

As we sit there, scoffing in silence, we all secretly pronounce our mental thank you at the sky for the unexpected downpour.

1 liter (4 cups) water
200 g (1 cup) cornmeal
Salt

Bring the salted water to a boil. While constantly stirring with a whisk, slowly add the polenta (cornmeal) trying to avoid forming lumps. Switch to a wooden spoon and reduce the heat to a gentle simmer, and brace yourself: you will be stirring constantly for the next 45 minutes to an hour. Or more. A tall drink might help. And/or nibbling on a chunk of Parmigiano. You must engage in all this stirring in order for the polenta to cook evenly and not burn and stick to the bottom of the pot.

Observe the rhythmic build-up of steam that results in small volcanic explosions. Pl-l-lop! Pl-ll-op! Lovely sound. The polenta is ready when smooth, and no longer granular. When it has finally reached the consistency of oatmeal and slides off the sides of the pot, you can rest your arm for a few minutes. But please don’t let the polenta cool down, you must ladle it steaming hot onto plates (wooden would be best, mamma says) directly from the cooking pot.

As a child I relished the polenta leftovers. Polenta solidifies fast and can be sliced. So now, to bring back gluttonous childhood memories, I usually put thick slices of polenta on the grill and dress each with thin slices of Sardinian Pecorino, smoked mozzarella or caciotta (a mild Italian cow's milk cheese). After removing the collection of lids that are permanently housed in my oven, which always come crushing down noisily when I open the oven door, I bake the polenta until heated through and the cheese sloppily melted.

Another great polenta leftover is crunchy fried polenta sticks, pure solace.

Tip: If you store leftover polenta in a cubic container, it is then easier to cut regularly shaped slices.

Salsicce e Spuntature recipe

Mamma's tomato, short ribs and sausage rustic sauce is the preeminent polenta partner. A meal intended for hearty appetites and brave digestive systems, a true winter staple.

Assemble the following ingredients while someone takes a shift at stirring the polenta:

2 celery ribs, minced
3 carrots, minced
1 1/2 medium onions, minced
4 fresh bay leaves
250 g (1 1/4 cups) ground veal
250 g (1 1/4 cups) pork short ribs
2 cups canned tomatoes, with their juice
1 cup dry, white wine
250 g (1 1/4 cups) beef stewing meat, cut into 1" chunks
250 g (1 1/4 cups) pork, cut into 1" chunks
250 g (1 1/4 cups) sweet Italian sausage
Extra virgin olive oil
Salt and ground black pepper, to taste
Parmigiano, grated

Heat approximately 1/4 cup of olive oil in a large stewpot. Add the celery, carrot, onion battuto and the bay leaves, and sauté over medium-high heat for 5 minutes. Reduce heat to medium low, add the ground veal and short ribs, and simmer with the vegetables for 10 minutes. Add tomatoes and their juice, and cook uncovered for 15 minutes.

Add the wine, the chunked beef and pork and the sausage, and cook uncovered for 30 more minutes, stirring frequently. Adjust seasoning with salt and ground black pepper. Serve immediately over soft polenta, with lots of grated Parmigiano on top. Place one symbolic sausage in the middle of your serving plank and eat your way to happiness.