Carpaccio recipe from Harry's Bar, Venice

Carpaccio was for a long time the most popular dish served at Harry’s Bar in Venice. It is named after Vittore Carpaccio, the Venetian Renaissance painter known for his use of brilliant reds and whites in the minute detail of his infinite perspective landscapes.

Giuseppe Cipriani, the Bar's historic owner, invented and named the dish in reference to the Venetian painter, because the colors of the dish reminded him of his paintings. It was 1950, the year of the great Carpaccio exhibition in Venice.

The Harry's Bar Carpaccio dish was inspired by capricious Contessa Amalia Nani Mocenigo, a local regular at Harry's Bar. Her doctor had put her on a strict diet recommending she eat only raw meat.

The original Harry's Bar delicacy is still made by covering a plate with the thinnest possible slices of raw beef and garnishing them with a secret dressing that is drizzled over the beef in a crosshatch, Kandisnsky-style pattern. It is proverbially called the "universal sauce."

I was raised on a strict Harry's Bar diet of Carpaccio and Risotto Primavera, myself. Those were the days when going to Venice for the weekend was a given, and money wasn't an issue. The source of our family's financial ease was the talented work and infinite generosity of my grandfather Vittorio De Sica.

My fondest memories of him are not glamourous, nor show business-related, they are personal. The vivid images and toasted coffee aroma of our Sunday afternoons spent together still linger in my mind when I think of him. Nonno would nap after having lunch with us, wrapped in a brown cashmere plaid throw, lying on the day bed in what later became my bedroom. I'd be the one to wake him, softly tiptoeing in the dimly lit room, carrying a tray with a small demitasse of espresso, which he'd sip quietly. 

The bottom of the cup was my prize, a tiny ring of coffee-tinted sugar that had not quite melted. I'd draw the drapes open and we'd play for a half hour, during which I would frequently show him my latest dance coreographies. My clumsy pirouettes, that would usually land me on my rear end, would obviously make him chuckle, but he never showed it, giving my performance the professional judgement of an unbiased director. Nonno would often tell me where to improve or applaud the less disastrous ones. Then he'd leave, cloaked in his grey flannel suit, elegant and smelling of blue Pantène hair cologne and weathered leather, like his gloves. A wink and a smile on the doorstep and he was gone, 'til the following week.

My grandfather's successful career ended too soon. Cinema lost one of its greatest modern film making artists in 1974 to lung cancer, and my playful Sunday afternoons with Nonno were no more.

with mom and Nonna Titta on the Grand Canal

I don't care if I don't go to Venice for the weekend any more. I've never been a fool for fancy clothes or elegant hotels. I love to travel and eat, and I still do that, on a shoestring. And since I could charm my way through a restaurant kitchen from age five, I managed to snatch the secret Carpaccio recipe. For free.

1.3 kg (3 lb) beef sirloin, whole
3/4 cup homemade mayonnaise
1–2 tsp Worcestershire sauce, adjust quantity to taste
1 tsp fresh lemon juice
2–3 tbsp whole milk
Salt and freshly ground white pepper

First of all, make the carpaccio "universal sauce," which is the focal point of this dish. The above-mentioned quantities yield about 250 ml (1 cup). Any leftover can last about 3 days, stored chilled in a closed container.

Put the mayonnaise in a bowl and add the Worcestershire sauce and lemon juice, and blend with a whisk.

Add enough milk to thin the sauce, so it just barely coats the back of a dry wooden spoon. Taste and adjust seasoning, with more Worcestershire sauce and/or lemon juice if necessary.

OK, now the tricky part.

According to tradition, the best carpaccio is made with beef sirloin, and the flavorful meat must never be frozen before slicing. Of course it's easier to slice barely thawed beef, but we're not taking any shortcuts today.

Carpaccio can also be made with beef tenderloin filet, which has a milder flavor than sirloin and is much easier to handle. Ask the butcher to trim the meat for you. You may even be able to convince him to slice it, but do so only if you plan to serve your carpaccio an hour or 2 later, tops.

If you decide to slice the meat yourself, please be careful, I nearly lost a fingertip once.

Trim every bit of fat, gristle, sinew from the sirloin, leaving a small cylinder of tender, lean meat.

Chill the meat for 30 minutes, then using a long-bladed razor-sharp knife, slice the meat paper-thin and arrange the slices on individual salad plates, covering the surface completely. Makes about six servings. Some folks like to sprinkle some shaved Parmigiano at this point. I don't, preferring to maintain the flavors and simplicity intact.

Drizzle the universal sauce decoratively over the meat, and serve immediately.

I quite like this with a properly stored Valpolicella: light in body, low in tannin, and redolent of tart red cherries.

Buon appetito.

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!

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.

Be my guest - Bobotie

I am honored to introduce today's cook. Tessa is a dear friend and her blog, An Aerial Armadillo is a fantastic fairytale world of art, culture and good taste.

Tessa, the kitchen is yours.

A Cultural Potpourri
As an avid reader and admirer of Lola’s splendiferous Aglio, Olio & Peperoncino blog since its inception, I was absolutely tickled pink to be invited by her to be a guest chef for a day. It is truly an honour especially since Lola is a culinary magician who transports us – with enormous flair and eloquence – to her Italian ‘headquarters’ in the Eternal City and shares with us the culture, traditions, art, food and vibrant history of that glorious country.

Some of you know me as that chronically homesick African who was whisked away from her beloved land quite recently by a deliciously handsome Englishman to live for a while in his country. Thing is, you see, the Englishman in question is my husband of 30 something years and he feels – probably quite justifiably – that it’s his turn to spend time in the country of his birth after having lived most of his adult life in mine. Problem is that no matter how hard I try, I just can’t rid myself of that niggling ache for home! So rather than sit and mope, I try to bring Africa to England as often as I possibly can by painting my memories of the people and places I love so much. I also love to cook, so the invitation to be guest chef on Lola’s blog is a wonderfully serendipitous opportunity to share a typically South African recipe with you.

Although I've lived in many parts of Africa, Cape Town is where I was born and raised so it seems appropriate that I should take you there. Please, come with me to that beautiful city nestled in the curve of it’s famous mountain and allow me to introduce you to the colourful Bo-Kaap area and to the Cape Malay people who live there.

The Cape Malay Quarter, or 'Bo-Kaap' as it is known locally, sprawls along the slopes of Signal Hill and presents a scenario of enduring historic and cultural significance. With their soft, caramel skins and wide smiles, the Cape Malay people are a prized and proud element of the South African culture.

The first group of Malaysian state prisoners landed on the shores of South Africa from Java and the neighbouring Indonesian islands in the late 1600's. Many more followed in the years 1727 until 1749. Not only did this proud and attractive people bring with them the Moslem faith and fine architecture, they also brought with them a unique cookery style, introducing exciting mixtures of pungent spices that has had a heady influence on traditional South African cuisine. Indeed, the Malay-Portuguese words such as bobotie (a curried ground beef and egg custard dish), sosatie (kebabs marinated in a curry mixture) and bredie (slowly cooked stews rich in meat, tomatoes and spices) are integral in our cookery vocabulary.

It all began in 1652, when the Cape of Good Hope was born, a stop in South Africa for ships of the East India Company of Holland on their way east. Immigrants from Europe, convicts from China, slaves from Mozambique and the prisoners from Java soon increased the populace of the seaside village bringing with them their unique cookery skills. A multi-ethnic cuisine emerged, and one can only imagine the aromas emanating from kitchens producing highly spiced dishes from Dutch, Italian, Portuguese and especially oriental recipes handed down for generations. Cape Malay cuisine is a delicious fusion of Asian, European and African food genres. From clove laden denningvleis lamb to naartjie (tangerine) zest infused tameletjie cookies, Cape Malay cooking is seasoned with history, infused with culture and full of fine flavours.

The Malay influence comes through in the curries, chilies and extensive use of spices such as ginger, cinnamon and turmeric. More Malay magic comes through the use of fruit cooked with meat, marrying sweet and savoury flavours, with hints of spice, curry and other seasonings. The food has a nuance of seductive spiciness, true testament to the culinary capabilities of Malay women world wide. I cannot think of a dried apricot without the image of our cook Lizzie, grinning widely, a wooden spoon in her hand, gently stirring a pot of simmering curry and fruit.

Lizzie’s bobotie is legendary and I still have her recipe in my book of kitchen treasures. Bobotie (pronounced ba-boor-tea) is a curried ground beef dish, baked in a rich egg custard. Some recipes call for you to combine the curry powder with the ground beef, whilst others advise you to fry the curry powder with the onions. The method is really unimportant. Once the custard covering the beef begins to bake, it keeps the meat moist and absorbs the fragrance of the curry and spices. What makes bobotie such a popular traditional South African dish is that it is exceptional served hot with geelrys (yellow rice), but just as good served cold with a peppery green salad with a tart vinaigrette dressing.

1 large onion, chopped
25 g butter
500 g Minced beef
2 Garlic cloves, crushed
2 cm Fresh root ginger, peeled and grated
2 tsp Garam masala
½ tsp Turmeric
1 tsp Ground cumin
1 tsp Ground coriander
2 Cloves
3 Allspice berries
1 tsp Dried mixed herbs
50 g Dried apricots, chopped
50 g Sultanas
25 g Flaked almonds
3 tbsp Chutney
4 tbsp Chopped parsley
4 Bay leaves, plus extra to garnish
250ml Whole milk

Preheat the oven to 180C/gas 4. Heat the butter in a saucepan and cook the onions until soft. Set aside. Heat a large frying pan over a high heat and fry the beef, without oil, until golden brown.

Remove from the heat and add the onions together with all the other ingredients except the milk and eggs. Mix well and put into 4 x 300ml ovenproof bowls or a large ovenproof dish. Press the mixture down with the back of a spoon.

Beat the milk and eggs together lightly and pour over the mince mixture. Bake for 20–25 minutes for small boboties (and 30–40 minutes for a large one) or until the topping has set and is golden brown.

Serve your bobotie with blatjang (pronounced blud-young) a delicious, tangy chutney of dried fruit and spices. A fragrant, gently spiced dish of geelrys (yellow rice) is also a traditional accompaniment to this dish of sublime deliciousity.

Apricot Blatjang
250 g dried apricots
1 red onion, quartered
½ tsp dried crushed chillies
2 garlic cloves
50 ml white malt vinegar
1 heaped tbsp brown sugar
A dollop of mustard
A knob of ginger, grated

Put the apricots in a bowl and pour over 600 ml boiling water. Leave for 30 mins to soak and cool. Plop the apricots and their soaking liquid into a food processor with all the remaining ingredients, then blitz for a scant 30 seconds or until roughly chopped. Tip into a saucepan, then cover and simmer for 20-25 minutes until thick and pulpy.

Geelrys
350 g basmati rice
50 g butter
1 heaped tbsp caster sugar
1 tsp ground cinnamon or 1⁄2 cinnamon stick
6 cardamom pods , shelled and seeds crushed
just under 1 tsp ground turmeric
5 tbsp raisins

Put all the ingredients in a large pan with 1 tsp salt and 500ml water, then heat until boiling and the butter has melted. Stir, cover and leave to simmer for 6 mins. Take off the heat and leave, still covered, for 5 mins. Fluff up and tip into a warm bowl to serve.

As a true blue Capetonian, it would be very remiss of me if I didn’t suggest one of our fine wines to go with the bobotie! Although the Cape Malays, being devout Muslims, don’t drink alcohol it would be remiss of me not suggest one of our ambrosial wines to accompany the bobotie! One of my favourites is from the Boekenhoutskloof Estate in Franshoek. Their Syrah is an absolute cracker, full of complex, cracked pepper flavours and has a huge silky palate – and in my opinion, perfect with meat dishes of any description!

 

Thank you so much, Lola, for inviting me to share a little taste of home with this delectable Cape Malay meal. Buon appetito - lekker eet!

Thank you Tessa!


2010 update.
After a long and courageous battle against Pulmonary Fibrosis Tessa passed away on Monday, 27th December surrounded by her family.
She brought warmth, light and colour into our lives and the world is a drabber, sadder and drearier place without her. No words can describe the loss we feel, but she will forever remain a bright, shining star in our memories - warm, bold, brave and strong.