Bagna càuda recipe

In the earliest part of my childhood I spent a lot of time with my Nonna Titta. I've spoken about her in many occasions on this blog. She was a pillar of my upbringing, and even though I was 9 when she passed away, she left me many memories and an impressive mark on my nature and individuality. I see a lot of her in myself today.

In particular, the memories I associate the most with Nonna are sensory. The taste of her gummy, black Allenbury candies stashed in a tin box at the bottom of her beauty case, the glint in her emerald green eyes while we played pretending to be ladies having tea, and mostly, the smells coming from the kitchen when she'd cook. Her pièce de résistance was bagna càuda, characteristic of her Piedmontese origins.

This appetizer/soup, whose name in dialect means "hot bath," is enjoyed by dipping raw, boiled or roasted vegetables in a manner similar to fondue in a heated blend of garlic, anchovy and olive oil. It is traditionally an autumn/winter recipe and must be eaten hot, as the name suggests.

Bagna Càuda can be served in individual dipping bowls, or placed in a larger terracotta pan, placed on a burner at the center of the table, for communal sharing. Pictured above is the clay pot in which Nonna cooked and served hers.

Whenever my mother or I make Bagna Càuda, this is what we we still use.

Here's how we continue Nonna's tradition:
500 g (2 1/2 cups) extra virgin olive oil
150 g (3/4 cup) salted anchovies
50 g (1/4 cup) butter
6 cloves of garlic, peeled

Assorted vegetables for dipping:
2 cardoons (if these are not available where you live, substitute with 3–4 ribs of white celery, cut in sticks)
2 yellow bell peppers, cut in sticks
1 cup cauliflower florets
2 topinambur (aka Jerusalem artichoke, sunroot, sunchoke, or earth apple), peeled and cut in chunks
5 radishes, peeled
2 carrots, cut in sticks
2 artichokes, cored, outer leaves removed and quartered lengthwise
3 spring onions

Scrape the anchovies with a paring knife, rid them of the bones and open them flat. Brush away excess salt with a kitchen towel, and do not rinse with water.

Thinly slice the garlic and trim away green parts, if any.

In an enameled terracotta pan (if you don't have one, a common nonstick saucepan will do), melt the butter over extremely mild heat, add the garlic and let it tan without browning.

Add the olive oil and the anchovies, gently simmering, stirring and breaking up the fillets with the back of a wooden spoon. Do this for 10 minutes, or until the sauce is creamy and evenly blended.

Serve on a fondue burner or on a cooling rack placed over tea light candles to keep the delicious bagna as càuda as possible while you gobble away, washing down with rivers of Barbera or Dolcetto.

Note: For those fearsome of such copious amounts of garlic, there's a trick: you halve the quantity of oil and compensate with a cup of whole milk, to be poured in at the same time. Identical garlic quantity, and same exact procedure: the milk tames the punch of the garlic.

It works, trust Nonna.

Caponata recipe

Italy is one great vegetable patch from the Alps down to the Sicilian volcanoes. Anything that can be cultivated easily turns into delightful side dishes of one sort or another, many of which also double as main course in a light meal, or a pasta condiment. The sunny climate, close proximity to Mediterranean coastlines, hard water and mineral-rich volcanic soil, all contribute in giving Italian vegetables an intense, unique flavor.

The savory dish most people probably associate with Sicily than any other is caponata, an eggplant delight of purported Spanish origin that has spread throughout the Peninsula. But much of the caponata eaten outside of its volcanic island home is a shadow of what it should be–a piquant delicacy ideal for perking up a lethargic appetite on a hot summer day.


4 kg (8.8 lbs) eggplants
200 g (1 cup) Kalamata or Gaeta olives, pitted
100 g (1/2 cup) salted capers, rinsed
2 kg (4.4 lb) celery
3 large onions, finely sliced
4 large tomatoes, blanched, peeled, seeded and chopped
100 ml (3 fl oz) wine vinegar
2 tbsp. sugar
Fresh basil leaves
2 tbsp. pine nuts
Extra virgin olive oil
Salt

Begin by stripping the stringy fibers from the celery stalks, and blanch them in lightly salted water for 5 minutes. Drain them, cut them into small chunks, sauté them in a little oil, and set them aside.

Wash the eggplants, dice them, put the pieces in a large colander, sprinkle them liberally with salt, and let them sit for 30 minutes to draw out their bitter juices. Once the eggplants have been "purged," rinse away the salt and pat the pieces dry.

Sauté the onions in olive oil; once they become translucent, add the capers, pine nuts, olives, and tomatoes. Continue cooking, stirring with a wooden spoon, until the tomatoes are done, about 15 minutes, and then remove the pot from the stove.

While the tomatoes are cooking, heat some olive oil in a large skillet, and fry the diced eggplant. Do this in several batches to keep the oil from cooling down.

When the last batch is done, return the tomato pot to the fire and stir in the fried eggplant, together with the previously sautéed celery. Cook for several minutes over a low flame, stirring gently, then pour in the vinegar and the sugar. When the vinegar has almost completely evaporated remove the pot from the fire and let it cool.

Serve your caponata at room temperature, garnished with fresh basil. There will be a lot, but don't worry, because it keeps for several days in the fridge, and it is common Sicilian knowledge that tastes better after a few days. Makes a perfect sandwich filler too...

Image credits: joana hard, miss_yasmina