Casatiello

I'm long overdue sharing this recipe. I have been enjoying casatiello for many years, but only got around to actually making it from scratch last spring in Irpinia, during an episode shoot of ABCheese, my TV show.

Casatiello is an Easter dish from the region of Campania, of which Naples is the capital. Casatiello and Tortano are two rustic Neapolitan savory pies that differ only in how the eggs are placed. In casatiello the eggs are placed whole, in their shell, embedded in the top part of the bread dough, secured by criss-crossed strips of dough. In tortano the eggs are part of the filling. 

Casatiello is a pagan symbol of rebirth and celebration, but also represents a Catholic metaphor for the circular element of the crown of thorns worn by Christ on the cross. 

Casatiello is in fact normally eaten during the Easter festivities, served with fava beans, salumi and salted ricotta. Whatever is left over is usually packed in the Pasquetta (little Easter/Monday) picnic hamper.

The ingredient list of this rustic and savory bread includes rich and fatty chopped salami, cheese, pork cracklings, eggs and lard. Yes, lard.

The dough which will be the shell of the casatiello needs to be light and flaky, this is where lard comes into play.
This forgotten and now demonized ingredient (living a recent revival, however) is what our grandmothers used as fat in virtually every baked preparation. Inexpensive and stable lard is by no means "healthy" but it does have less cholesterol and saturated fat than butter, and unlike most vegetable shortening, it does not contain any trans fats. Moderation, obviously, is the key word here.

 
Because of its relatively large fat particles, strutto or sugna (rendered lard) is extremely effective as a shortening in baking. Pie crusts made with lard tend to be flakier than those made with butter or olive oil.
Lard, and shortening in general, work by coating flour particles and gluten strands in doughs (virtually "shortening" the strands, hence the term), and preventing them from forming a strong bond. The stronger the bond, the tougher the crust, and vice versa. Lard also has a higher melting point than butter.The picture above shows homemade rendered lard made from the kidney fat of healthy, free range pigs.

Here is the recipe for this sensational southern Italian Easter recipe.

Ingredients
600 g strong, bread flour*
300 ml lukewarm water
25 g brewer's yeast, melted in a small amount of water - or natural sourdough starter
225 g rendered lard
100 g pecorino cheese

150-200 g Italian salami

100 g pork cracklings
150 g sharp provolone cheese
Salt and pepper
4 or 6 eggs, depending on size, plus 1 yolk 

*Strong flour and bread flour generally mean the same thing: plenty of gluten which allows the dough to stretch and incorporate lots of air bubbles. The strenth of a flour is given by its "W" value. Bread flour varies between W160 and W310. This value is usually clearly stated on the packaging.

Start by preparing the bread dough. You're aiming for a wet, elastic dough.

Build a flour volcano. Add the yeast mix in the 'crater' along with 50 g of lard, then pour in the water a little at a time, stirring with a fork or your fingers. Keep adding the flour from the sides of the volcano. Only add a good pinch of salt at the very end (salt nullifies the yeast action). Knead to obtain a soft and elastic ball of dough. Add a little water if it feels too dry. It really all depends on what flour you're using.

Let the ball of dough proof in a bowl, covered with plastic wrap. The mass should double if not triple in volume. I usually place my dough to rise in the oven (turned off) with only the light on. This takes no less than 2 hours.

Move the dough to a flat work surface lightly dusted with flour. Deflate and roll it out to form a 1/2 inch thick rectangle. You could use a rolling pin, but the dough is fluffy enough to do this with your hands. Save a small amount of dough for garnish.

Now the fun part: adding the filling. Slather a third of the dough rectangle with 1 Tbsp lard (use your fingers or a spatula), sprinkle evenly with black pepper, scatter a third of the chopped salami and cracklings, and a third of the grated cheeses. Fold over the "dressed" part and repeat until you run out of filling. I folded over three times.
Roll up the whole thing, burrito-style.

Grease a ring mold with lard and place the rolled up casatiello in it, making sure to clasp the ends together to form a donut. Cover the casatiello and let it proof for additional 2-3 hours (time may vary depending on how warm your kitchen is, and how powerful the yeast is).

Wash the eggs under running water, pat dry and press them on the casatiello, pointy tips facing inwards. Roll the leftover dough into slender ropes. Secure the eggs by criss-crossing the dough ropes on each. Brush the surface of your casatiello with egg yolk. 

Heat the oven to 180°C (375°F) and bake for approximately 1 hour. Check doneness with a toothpick or a raw spaghetti noodle. Crank up the heat at the very end if the surface isn't browning enough.

Serve at room temperature. Who's uncorking the chilled Falanghina?

If properly wrapped in plastic wrap, it will last 3-4 days in the fridge. Mine hardly ever makes it past the day I make it.

 

My casatiello mentor, Patrizia.

Pastiera recipe

Pastiera is the quintessential Neapolitan Easter cake.

Legend has it that pastiera was invented in a Neapolitan convent. An unidentified novice wanted her Easter cake to be a symbol of the Resurrection, and to be redolent of the spring flowers growing in the convent’s orange grove.

So she mixed a handful of wheat grains (abundance) to some mild ricotta cheese (sustenance), added some eggs (symbol of new life), some orange-fragranced water, citron and a mix of aromatic Asian spices.

The ingredients used in making Pastiera closely, suggest a more pagan spring-welcoming Dionysian type ceremony rather than an enlightened nun’s experiment: wheat kernels, goat milk’s cheese, floral water, eggs, spices and candied fruit? I say definitely mundane.

Be that as it may, Pastiera is commonly consumed during Italian Easter festivities, an intensely religious moment of the calendar.

The name "pastiera" appears to come from the consolidated habit of using cooked pasta instead of buckwheat; there are still some who make pastiera using spaghetti and angel hair.

There are two different ways of preparing Pastiera: in an older method, the ricotta was mixed with the eggs; in the newer version, a thick pastry cream mixture is added, resulting in a softer amalgam. This recipe innovation was introduced by Signor Giovanni Scaturchio, a Neapolitan genius confectioner whose little shop of miracles still occupies a corner in Piazza San Domenico Maggiore.

A deli in Rome sells these mini 3.5 oz pastierine from Napoli's Scaturchio, and when I got one as a present the other day I squealed with delight. They are the best.

Here's the orignal recipe, handed down by a 100% true Neapolitan. Complex and time consuming, but oh, so worth it.

Ingredients for the shortbread/shortcrust pastry shell:

3 yolks
500 g (2 1/2 cups) all purpose flour
200 g (1 cup) sugar
200 g (1 cup) lard (cough) or butter

Ingredients for the filling:

700 g (3 1/2 cups) sheep's milk ricotta
400 g (2 cups) cooked buckwheat (can be substituted with pearl barley soaked overnight and boiled for 30 minutes; or round rice boiled for 20 minutes)
400 g (2 cups) sugar
1 lemon
1 heaped tbsp. candied citron fruit, cubed
1 heaped tbsp. candied orange, cubed
1 heaped tbsp. candied pumpkin (locally called "cucuzzata") last 3 items can be substituted by assorted candied fruits
100 ml (1/2 cup) milk
30 g (1 oz) butter
5 eggs + 2 yolks
1/2 tsp. vanilla extract
1 tbsp. orange blossom water (if you can't find it, use the zest of 1 orange)
A pinch of powdered cinnamon

If you were unable to find cooked and canned buckwheat, you'll have to cook the raw kind, or substitute it with the other grains and cooking procedures mentioned above.

Soak the raw buckwheat in water. Drain and rinse well under running water before cooking in plenty cold unsalted water. When the water boils, reduce the heat and cook at a gentle simmer for 90 minutes undisturbed (no stirring).

In the meantime, if you decide not to use prepackaged and frozen pastry dough, combine flour sugar and softened butter in a mixing bowl. Drop in the yolks one at a time, and work into an even dough. Otherwise thaw the frozen pastry.

When the ingredients are well mixed, work the dough by quickly folding it over a few times. Beware: the more you work shortbread the less it will be soft and supple!

Let the dough rest 30 minutes, covered by a damp kitchen towel.

Mix the cooked buckwheat, milk, butter and the zest of 1 lemon in a saucepan, and cook over medium heat for 10 minutes. Stir often, and cook until the mixture is quite creamy.

Whip the ricotta in the blender with the eggs and yolks, the sugar, vanillin, floral water and cinnamon. Once this is well blended and fluffy, fold in the candied fruits and cooked buckwheat mix, and stir until fully blended.

If you are using the frozen shortcrust pastry dough, once it is thawed soft, unroll it. Now whether packaged or homemade, the dough needs to be flattened. Use a rolling pin and work the dough to 1/4 of an inch in thickness. Line a 9-inch buttered pie shell with the pastry. With the excess dough cuttings, you can make some lattice strips for decoration.

Pour the filling mixture in the prepared pie shell, fold the brim inwards and decorate the top part with the strips of extra dough. Brush the criss cross lattice with egg yolk or melted butter mixed with sugar if you like. This will make it shine.

Bake in the oven at 180° C (350° F) for 90 minutes, or until amber in color.

Let the cake cool completely and dust it with icing sugar before serving.

It's hard work, I know.
Pastiera is best cooked a few days in advance, in order to allow the fragrances to mix properly and result in that unique flavor, but I never manage to resist more than a few hours.

A mouthful of pastiera, followed by a sip of dry red wine is known to bring springtime in your mouth, la Primavera in bocca.

Buona Pasqua!

Be my guest - Pflaumenkuchen plum cake

I'll be brief, because the smell of baking sweetness is making me dizzy here. I have to slip away and savour a slice while you meet this week's guest chef. I'll hand over my toque to Angela–we call her Geli–and let her tell you of her beautiful German island and her everyday adventures. Pop over to her lovely blog Letters from Usedom to read more of her wonderful stories on the intelligent and witty children she teaches, her love for education, her passion for gardening, nature and... Kuchen!

Geli, the kitchen is yours.

My lovely friend Lola sticks her head through my kitchen door. “What cake are you baking today?” She is always drawn by the smell. Lola likes to visit me in my kitchen, and I am always happy to welcome her. If there is one who can appreciate good food–the making, the looks, the taste, the presentation–there is no one like Lola! Her blog is an adventure for the palate and the eyes, and even I–not one for garlic–am overwhelmed by the wish to sit at Lola's kitchen table and share a plate with her of ANYTHING she has to offer!

My own joy lies in the baking of cakes. In Germany, it is a nice custom to invite friends over for afternoon coffee and have some home-baked cake to present.

“Look, I made a Pflaumenkuchen today, late September is the time of the ripe plums!” This is my husband's favourite cake, made with a yeast dough. Do you know how to make a yeast dough? Some are afraid to try it because it involves some time, but actually it is the most adaptable and easy-to-make dough.

Before I continue chatting I must tell you that Lola is also not here personally. We can only visit each other virtually, but by visiting each other's blogs and then starting to e-mail and sending pictures, we have become good friends, although she lives about 2000 km away from me in Rome, while I live in the far North-East corner of Germany, right next to the Polish border. Our island is situated in the beautiful Baltic Sea and is called Usedom (pronounced oo-za-dom).

Here you can see our beach in the summer...

...and this here is me.

If you had come to visit me in July, I could have offered you an angel-food cake, filled with whipped cream and my own garden-grown strawberries.


Or in winter, when snow is lying on the ground and you have to take off your boots and scarf and mittens before sitting down by the fireside, I would treat you with my favourite chocolate cake, along with a mug of hot chocolate.

The recipe for that one you can find on my blog post Chocolate and other cakes.

When my blog friend Fire Byrd visited me last month, she sat in our beach basket and enjoyed a piece. Paco was counting every bite!

Now, in the fall, my family also likes apple cake, which I make of a short pastry, filled with soft-cooked apples, and covered with a grating of pastry, and after baking, with an icing of powdered sugar and lemon juice.

But today it is Pflaumenkuchen, plum cake. Here you can see how it looks when waiting to be eaten. Of course, when you invite guests, they will look at you expectantly to see if you also provided for some whipped cream! Pflaumenkuchen und Schlagsahne, that's just unbeatable!

Here comes the recipe:

20 g yeast
1 teaspoon of sugar
250 ml (1 1/4 cup) lukewarm milk
400 to 500 grams (2 to 2 1/2 cups) of wheat flour, depending on stickiness of dough
75 g (2.6 oz) sugar
3 tablespoons oil, or 50 grams (1/4 cup) of soft butter,
A pinch of salt and some cinnamon, some powdered sugar if you like.

Put the teaspoon of sugar, 2/3 of the flour and 5 tablespoons of milk in a bowl. Then add yeast and stir together. Cover with a cloth and let rise at a moderately warm place for half an hour. Then add the rest of the ingredients. Stir with a spoon or work with your hands. Add flour if necessary but not too much. Dough must remain soft. After having kneaded it thoroughly, cover again and let it rise double its volume. Try if it is sweet enough for your taste.

Spread it on a greased baking tray.

Now prepare the plums (you may also use peeled and sliced apples). Remove the pits and cut in halves. Then put them closely onto pastry, insides up. If you skimp on the quantity of plums, it will show later because the dough will continue to rise and there will be uneven, empty spaces!

When you are finished, put the tray in a warm place again (the oven at 50° C) and wait till the dough has become soft and fully risen.

Now put a heat-proof dish with water inside the oven, underneath the tray, and heat it up thoroughly (220° C). The water will create clouds which will cover the cake and make it soft.

After ten minutes open the oven door so the steam can escape, then remove the heat to moderate temperatures (170 °C) and bake for further 15 or 20 minutes.

When the pastry is well done, remove tray with mittens onto a wooden plate or a cloth, let it cool.

Only AFTER fully cooled, add sugar or icing. If you do it before baking, or right afterwards, the plums will draw too much juice, and the cake will become too soggy.


Now, please sit down and put on your napkins!
Guten Appetit!


Thank you for participating, Geli!

Biscotti brutti ma buoni recipe

A biscuit is a small baked morsel of love. The exact meaning varies markedly in different parts of the world. In the United States and Canada, a cookie is what the same small, flat-baked treat is called. It is usually round, containing milk, flour, eggs, and sugar, etc. In most English-speaking countries outside North America, the most common word for this is biscuit. In many regions both terms are used, while in others the two words have different meanings – a cookie is a plain bun in Scotland, while in the United States a biscuit is a kind of quick bread similar to a scone.

The origin of the English word "biscuit" is from Latin via Middle French and means "cooked twice," hence bis-cotti in Italian. Whatever their name, origin or exact meaning and shape, biscotti rock. Some harder than others.

Brutti ma Buoni recipe

The term brutti ma buoni means 'ugly but good,' and is quite apt, because these traditional drop cookies don’t look too attractive, but vanish off the serving plate in minutes. They take a little effort to make, but are well worth it.

250 g (1 1/4 cups) powdered sugar
100 g (1/2 cup) blanched peeled, and toasted almonds
100 g (1/2 cup) toasted hazelnuts, shelled
6 egg whites
A healthy pinch of powdered cloves and powdered cinnamon
1/2 tsp of vanillin or a few drops vanilla extract

Grind the nuts to a powder, ideally using a mortar and pestle (the toasting of the nuts makes this operation much more successful). If you don’t have a mortar and pestle, either chop the nuts very finely by hand, or pulse them to a powder in your blender.

Beat the egg whites until stiff peaks form, and carefully fold in the nuts, sugar, spices, and vanilla.

Turn the batter into a saucepan and heat it, stirring gently, over a low flame until it thickens and just becomes golden in color; this will take about a half hour.

While doing this, preheat your oven to 160°C (320°F) and butter a cookie sheet.

Take the thickened batter, and drop it, less than a tablespoon (about half a walnuts' worth) at a time, onto the cookie sheet, leaving some space between drops. Bake the Ugly but Good for about 40 minutes. Let them cool thoroughly and enjoy with a glass of robust red wine and a good book.

And if you simply cannot bake, head over to Biscottificio Innocenti and ask Stefania for the best brutti ma buoni in Rome.