I went to visit Massimo, my pollarolo on Saturday at the farmer's market. A pollarolo is a poultry vendor, but Massimo sells many kinds of meat: chicken, turkey, hare, rabbit, spring lamb, game birds, a few pork cuts, and eggs. All his goods are free range and humanely butchered. I trust his methods and his meats, because I've seen the farm where he is partner and where his animals are reared, and I have witnessed a weekly slaying there once.
Mr. E, my 3 year-old son, has grown eating Massimo's birds. I was always confident that the white meats I fed him since I began weaning him onto solids never contained a single milligram of hormones or antibiotics. I myself have been raised on Massimo Il Pollarolo's goods. My mother has been a regular customer at his little market stall covered in A.S.Roma soccer posters ever since I can remember.
Mr. E, my 3 year-old son, has grown eating Massimo's birds. I was always confident that the white meats I fed him since I began weaning him onto solids never contained a single milligram of hormones or antibiotics. I myself have been raised on Massimo Il Pollarolo's goods. My mother has been a regular customer at his little market stall covered in A.S.Roma soccer posters ever since I can remember.
I used to go with her food shopping at the market on Saturdays too, and I guess that's where the seeds of my love for food, fresh garden ingredients and colorful marketplaces were planted. I recall watching Massimo's carving knives gliding though chicken breasts and opening them like booklets; his 4-lb mallet smashing down on thick pork ribs and his bloody hands carefully wrapping complimentary sprigs of rosemary along with the meat cuts in waxed paper for us to take home. Not even on the hottest days did I ever see flies buzzing around Massimo's spotless countertop. His parcels always came handed over with a smile and a recipe tip. "Don't drown it in white wine!" he would call after us as we strolled onto the next vendor to buy the eggplant and the tomatoes.
So Staurday I showed up at Massimo's stall as it was getting close to noon. I peered at the display case while Mr. E hypnotically stared at the burly giant behind the counter juggling his chopping implements. When the last customer in line before me left, I met Massimo's gaze and smiled in the direction of the tray of chicken halves. Bright yellow skin, buttery pink flesh, crimson veins and glowing china-white cartilage. Not the anemic, squallid-looking birds packed in plastic coffins that crowd the poultry section of your supermarket, no. These were actual chickens. They had been pecking away at grass only 2 days ago, Massimo assured me (these aren't fed corn or protein meals).
"How much do you want, and what are you making?" Massimo posed his usual question as he sharpened his tools. I pondered. I didn't have anything in mind at the moment, I was hoping on my usual spur of the moment stoveside inspiration. So I just said what my mom used to answer: "Dimmi tu." - You tell me.
Pollo ai Peperoni! Of course, chicken and bell peppers, what else? A typical Roman cucina casalinga (homestyle cookery) recipe made with simple ingredients, prepared with very little fat and an resulting in an incrrrredibly delicious meat+vegetable complete meal.
So that's what I made for lunch today, pollo ai peperoni. Here is the original Roman recipe handed down to my mother 25 years ago, by Massimo himself.
One 1.5 kg (3.3 lbs) free-range chicken, washed and cut in 8 pieces (breasts, thighs, wings and drumsticks)
5 bell peppers (2 red, 2 yellow and 1 green), trimmed and cut in 1-inch squares
1 cluster of small Pachino-like tomatoes (6-7 egg-sized heirloom or cherry tomatoes), halved
1 small white onion, finely chopped
2 garlic cloves, peeled and halved
1 bay leaf
2 fistfuls of unbleached flour
1 glass of dry, white wine
1 ladleful of meat stock
Extra virgin olive oil
Salt and pepper to taste
Dredge the bird pieces lightly in flour seasoned with some salt and pepper.
Sear them with 4 tablespoons of olive oil in a skillet for about 15 minutes, turning to brown evenly.
In another larger pan heat 3 more tablespoons of olive oil, the garlic and the bay leaf. As the garlic begins to tan, stir in the onion. Add the bell peppers and simmer gently for 15 minutes with the wine. Then stir in the halved tomatoes and check seasoning. Some (including myself) like to add a handful of Kalamata-type olives - locally called Gaeta - at this point. But the traditional Roman recipe is olive-less.
Fold in the browned chicken and simmer for 10 more minutes, or until the meat is tender and the sauce is reduced (you can add some broth or hot water if it looks too dry).
Garnish with some fresh basil or a few leaves of fresh marjoram, and enjoy at room temp.
As with many Roman recipes, this dish is best eaten warmed the next day.
The flavorful chicken juices playfully enhance the sweet tomato and savory bell pepper sauce, so keep some crusty bread handy for sloppy scarpetta.
Grazie, Massimo.
