Italian torta rustica

Don't call it quiche.

In Italy torta rustica is a seasonal staple and a versatile dish: it can serve as an appetizer, as a side dish, or be the main entree. 

With boundless recipes and fillings, the savory rustic pies of Italy were initially intended as thrifty fridge-cleaners, adding bits of leftover vegetables to a mix of cheese, cured meats and an egg to bind it all together in a flaky shell. 

If you're looking for savory pie baking inspiration, here’s a failsafe recipe for quick and easy vegetarian torta rustica filled with spinach and punchy gorgonzola cheese.

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Couscous recipe

When friend and inspired editor Margo of Travel Belles invited me to participate in her once a month column featuring a recipe from around the world, I immediately and enthusiastically accepted. For my first submission, I wrote about Tunisian Couscous...

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Zucchine alla Parmigiana recipe

Summer is definitely here. And with it come chilled glasses of Falanghina, long walks, and lazy afternoons.

Although baking is not ideal in this weather, there's a nice alternative to the usual and world-known cousin Parmigiana di Melanzane, quintessential summer staple. This "tortino in bianco" version, a tomato-less zucchini baked dish, is a summer favorite, and very popular among my circle of friends and family. More delicate than the eggplant counterpart, it combines the principles of Parmigiana, yet with a more subtle gusto.

2 kg (4.4 lbs) ribbed heirloom zucchini (zucchine romanesche)
Parmigiano, grated
Breadcrumbs, toasted
Béchamel sauce (halve quantities to yield 1 1/2 cups)
Extra virgin olive oil
Butter for greasing
Mozzarella (optional)
Salt and pepper


Thinly slice the zucchini length-wise (with a mandoline you can obtain thinner wafers) and sauté them in batches in plenty boiling olive oil. Fish them out with a slotted spoon after a few minutes, the time needed is according to how thinly they have been cut.

*For a "leaner" version, zucchini slices can be grilled, instead of fried.

Grease the bottom of a large enough baking pan with butter, coat with breadcrumbs, and begin layering the zucchini slices, alternating with generous amounts of grated Parmigiano, lashings of béchamel sauce, and a drizzle of olive oil. If you like, you can add sliced Mozzarella as well, but not Bufala, which tends to be too watery. The risk is a soggy mess.

Top the last layer with more Parmigiano, a few curls of butter and some breadcrumbs.

Bake in the oven for 15 minutes or until a nice tan crust forms. Remove from the oven and wait for the ambrosia to cool before you apply to face.

Best eaten at room temperature the next day. During overnight refrigeration, elements firm together, making this leftover dish an excellent sandwich filler.

Buon appetito.

Insalata di Spinaci recipe

The Italian word for vegetables verdura, is an inaccurate term which poetically translates to 'greendom.' The farmers' markets these days are in fact a colorful feast for the eyes and imagination. The palette offered by the spilling stalls features tender mauve artichokes, Ferrari-red tomatoes of every size and shape, curly, spiked and ruffled field sprouts, pearly spring onions, opulent purple eggplants and lush Jamaican flag bell peppers.

With the heat of the season and colorful abundance offered by the markets, I find myself consuming ridiculous quantities of fresh green verdura. The salad I'll be making today is a rich and tasty Insalata di Spinaci, a warm spinach salad: the 80's in a salad bowl.

The heated pancetta drippings wilt the fresh spinach leaves, and along with the crumbled hard-boiled egg, provide a subtle diversity of flavors and textures.

Here's what you need for 4 eaters:

10-12 oz triple rinsed baby spinach leaves, stems removed
50 g (1/4 cup) minced red onion
2 soft-boiled eggs, 1 chopped, 1 sliced
5 strips of pancetta
2 tbsp. brown sugar
2 tbsp. white vinegar
4 tbsp. extra virgin olive oil
1 tbsp. water
Salt and cracked black pepper to taste

Place the dry spinach leaves in a large bowl, add the chopped onions and refrigerate, tightly covered.

Fry the pancetta until crisp. Save the drippings, but remove the strips to a paper towel and set aside. In a small jar or measuring cup combine the pancetta drippings with sugar, vinegar, water, salt and pepper, and give it a good shake. Refrigerate all ingredients until just before serving.

When ready to serve, microwave the dressing on 'high' for 30-45 seconds, or until the mixture boils. Toss the chopped egg with the spinach, then pour the hot dressing over everything; tossing again lightly to coat well. Top with sliced egg and crumbled bacon.

Deliziosa!

Image © kids vs produce

Frittata alla Mentuccia recipe

This is a first.

For years, I've been a cynical anti-Valentine advocate. I posted about my unsympathetic stand towards the lovers' holiday in this post. I still find the commercial exploitation revolting, but this year I decided to wipe away the cynicism and support the Amore occasion with the naïvety of a blushing girl's first crush.

And what better way than with a delicious demonstration of my feelings?

While throngs of lovers exchange sappy cards, gifts and heart-shaped boxes of chocolate, I will break my celebratory embargo with an unconventional savory treat:

Frittata alla Mentuccia - Peppermint Frittata

Ingredients
50 g (1/4 cup) bacon, cut in matchsticks
A bunch of fresh peppermint
1 clove of garlic, minced
Dash of Pecorino cheese, grated
Extra virgin olive oil
Salt and pepper
6 eggs


Soak the peppermint in plenty of water and a fistful of baking soda to eliminate traces of field dirt and unwanted chemicals. Rinse several times and pat dry. Trim away stems and chop finely, to yield about 1/4 cup of minced leaves.

Film a large skillet with 3 tablespoons of olive oil and sauté the bacon with the minced garlic. Remove from the skillet with a slotted spoon and set aside. Leave the bacon drippings in the pan, you'll be cooking the frittata in them. Yes, I know – I'm drooling too.

In a mixing bowl, break the eggs, add a fistful of grated Pecorino, and break the yolks with a fork. Stir, folding in the chopped peppermint and crisp bacon, and mix well. If the eggs are superfresh and thus rich in "gluey" albumen, I usually splash in a drop of milk to dilute the eggy mix. Season with salt and freshly ground black pepper, and let it sit while you put the skillet back on the stove to heat the bacon drippings.

Pour the blend in the skillet and reduce the heat to low. Cook slowly for about 5 minutes, or until you can lift the bottom of the frittata off the the pan with a spatula. If you can flip omelets like a perfect French chef, go ahead. I slide mine from the skillet onto a flat, wide lid; and flipping that over the pan in order to cook the other side, accident-free, for another 2-3 minutes.

Adjust seasoning, slice in large wedges and stuff in warm ciabatta bread. Pack the sandwiches in a picnic hamper, along with a bottle of wine, some aged cheese, juicy pears, and a thermos of piping hot espresso. Take the rest of that day off, folding spacious blanket underarm, ready to go make out in the park with your significant other. And not just because it's Valentine's Day.

Arancini recipe

While forced to cope with capricious skin, summer crushes and wild hormonal hurricanes, my Positano teen posse and I would often sneak into the Buca di Bacco kitchen at 10 a.m. while chefs were just beginning their morning shift, and order dozens to go. We would pack our fried goods and dash off to the pier where someone’s motorboat was always ready to take us out to sea for a swim. Hours later–exhausted after diving competitions, snorkeling, trolling for scorpion fish, messy water polo matches and lazy sunbathing in the silence of a secluded cove–wolfing down our sun-warmed palle di riso was the best part of the day.

In Sicily they're called arancini, and quite a complex architecture of a snack. Pear-shaped and featuring elaborate fillings, the classic breaded and deep fried rice balls the size of a fist, traditionally have meat ragù, mushrooms and stewed peas in their filling. In other parts of Italy, similar flavor bombs–according to geographical area and assorted filling–go by different monikers: supplì (in Rome) are tomato-flavored and bullet shaped croquettes with a heart of mozzarella; arancini di riso are almost always creamy saffron risotto dome-shaped pucks, or round like oranges (the noun arancino means, small orange). Exotic new fillings in the rice mixture may include the likes of chopped porchetta, a pecorino and pepper mix, and even squid ink.

Palle di Riso–childhood lexicon–are the signature piece of Italian Fritto Misto all’Italiana–a sumptuous mixed vegetarian fried platter. Honoring tradition, I still prepare them according to the long-established Buca di Bacco recipe handed down by chef Andrea Ruggiero himself. I serve them along with a sauceboat of hearty homemade tomato sauce, and three in each plate: a meal.


500 g (1.1 lb) Arborio rice
100 g (1/2 cup) freshly grated Parmigiano or aged Provolone
300 g (1 1/2 cups) mozzarella, finely chopped
5 eggs
A packet of saffron, dissolved in 1 fl oz of hot water
Breadcrumbs, toasted
A fistful of polenta (cornmeal)
Flour for dredging
Peanut oil for frying
Salt

Combine the chopped mozzarella and a fistful of the grated cheese, and set aside.

Boil the rice in lots of lightly salted water, until it reaches the al dente stage. Drain and transfer to a bowl. Let it cool for 10 minutes, then season it with the remaining cheese, 2 lightly beaten eggs, and the diluted saffron. Mix well and let the thick mixture cool some more.

To make a rice ball, take a heaping tablespoon of rice and flatten it out against the palm of your hand, cupping it to make a hollow. Fill the hollow with a tablespoon of the mozzarella mixture and cover the filling with a little more rice, shaping the ball into an orange. Roll it in flour and repeat the ball-making process, until all the rice is used up.

Beat the remaining 3 eggs, season with a pinch of salt, and dip the balls in them. Combine the cornmeal and breadcrumbs and roll the eggy balls in the mixture, coating them well. Fry the palle in hot oil, until golden. Drain well on a paper towel, and serve them hot with your basic tomato sauce for some serious dipping.

Image © stefaniav

Trivia: The Rome version of arancini is called supplì. These are often referred to as "supplì al telefono" – telephone-style. Do you know why? Because when you bite into a proper supplì, the mozzarella should string out like a telephone chord. The advent of cordless phones has made this old way of saying sadly obsolete.

Pizza di Scarola rustic pie recipe

Originally a Christmas dish, this savory Neapolitan vegetable pie is an Italian mealtime classic. In the Napoli hometown, the stuffed pie crust has a hint of sweetness and needs yeast and lard. I use regular bread dough for a lighter outcome. It's a different way of eating greens, puts smiles on children's faces and gratifies your taste buds with a piquant filling surprise.

Image © giallozafferano.it

For the crust:
500 g (2 1/2 cups) flour
125 ml (1/2 cup) milk
60 g (1/4 cup) unsalted butter, softened
125 ml (1/2 cup) lukewarm water
12 g (1 tsp) active dry, or brewer's yeast
1 pinch of salt
1 tsp sugar
40 g (2 tbps) extra virgin olive oil
1 egg yolk stirred with a little milk for brushing


For the filling:
1 large or 2 medium heads of escarole (broad-leaved endive) washed and chopped
A fistful of Gaeta olives (or small purple Kalamata olives) pitted
A pinch of salted capers, rinsed
2 garlic cloves, halved
1 spicy red peperoncino
1 oil-packed anchovy (optional)
Extra virgin olive oil
Salt

To make the crust, first melt the yeast in a small vessel with the milk, lukewarm water, very little salt and a tsp of sugar.

Now place the flour in a large mixing bowl with the softened butter, olive oil and incorporate the yeasty blend. Mix well with a wooden spoon to obtain a moist ball, pouring the lukewarm water in slowly.

Turn the oily dough onto a clean surface, and knead briefly, just until it becomes smoother, about a minute. Cut the dough into two pieces, one slightly larger than the other. Wrap each piece in plastic, and let rest in a warm place, for about 2 hours. The dough pieces will double in volume.

Preheat oven at 180° C (350° F).

Boil the chopped escarole for 2 minutes in plenty of water. Drain and wring away excess water.

Meanwhile, lightly film a large pan with olive oil, and heat over medium-high. Brown the garlic and peperoncino to release their flavors, and discard when the garlic begins to brown. According to your taste you can decide to leave in the peperoncino. The original recipe calls for an added oil-preserved anchovy too, you're free to omit it but it does give the whole recipe a punch without ever noticing the actual anchovy flavor.

Sauté the parboiled escarole for 5 minutes in the flavored olive oil with the pitted olives, capers and a pinch of salt. Let it cool 10 minutes before the next step.

Roll the two dough disks or squares out; given the greasiness of the dough, no flour is needed, but just in case, you can line your baking pan with some parchment paper.

The larger dough piece should be bigger than your 9-inch pie shell. Drape the larger rolled dough over the lined pie shell leaving some overhang all around.

Fill with the cooked greens and cover with the second dough piece.

Trim away a little of the excess dough, crimp the edge all the way around to seal the pie, and cut 4 small slits in the top, or pierce the surface with the tines of a fork.

Brush the surface with some egg wash and bake 20-30 minutes (depending on oven vigor).

Let the pie rest on a wire rack for about 15 minutes before serving.

Cut generous slices and serve paired with the rest of your meal, generously washed down by big Aglianico wine. Otherwise you can enjoy it cold the next day, with a chilled beer.

Parmigiana di Melanzane – Eggplant Parmigiana recipe

OK, I feel it's time we have a serious talk about this dish.

I've heard people overseas call it "Eggplant Parmesan," and learned that there are variations of it, the most popular of these involving breaded meat cutlets, named "Veal Parmesan." This particular recipe sounds awfully like a regional specialty called Cotoletta alla Bolognese or Cotoletta alla Petroniana. But I don't know where "Chicken Parm" was developed, because I've never heard of it here in Italy. It must be an American-Italian dish.

But, back to the eggplant. I am presently obsessed with this vegetable, and have posted other recipes that use it, like stuffed eggplant, or vegetarian meatballs and eggplant crumble. I was saving this one for summer, since the best, sweetest and slenderest melanzane grow between July and October.

Melanzane alla Parmigiana is a wonderfully complex, versatile and satisfying vegetarian preparation. I have been making batches on batches of it recently, and there never seems to be enough of it!

Down south in the Campania region, birthplace of this dish––and where I've had the best Melanzane alla Parmigiana ever––there's a curious dyslexia name issue: the dish is in fact commonly known as "Parmigiana di Melanzane," with the adjective becoming the noun, and vice versa.

Whatever its name, the city of Parma has no claim on this dish. The only component present in this dish from the northern Parma territory is Parmigiano cheese, a key element of this preparation. The remaining ingredients are 100% southern Italian.

This recipe has traveled far, broken boundaries and can be found imitated all over the world.

You can prepare it in roughly 1 hour and 15 minutes. For it you'll need:


4-5 eggplants (not the round kind, better use the teardrop shaped, purple ones)
2 cups of canned tomatoes, crushed
2 garlic cloves, minced
A fistful of fresh basil leaves
2 eggs
5 fistfuls of flour
1 medium mozzarella (around 4 oz), diced
1/2 cup Parmigiano, grated
Vegetable oil for frying
Olive oil for sautéing
Salt to taste

Preheat oven to 180° C (350° F).

Slice the eggplant lengthwise, no thicker than 1 cm (1/2-inch). If the eggplants are large, "purge" away the bitter juices by sprinkling the slices with sea salt and placing them in a colander weighed down between two plates for about 10 minutes.

Brush off any leftover salt, and dredge the eggplant slices in flour and set aside, while you heat a generous amount of vegetable oil for frying in a large skillet.

Beat the eggs in a large mixing bowl and dip the dredged eggplant slices in it briefly. Fry them in the skillet for about 3 minutes on each side, then rest them on a paper towel to absorb excess grease. (You could skip this step entirely, and use grilled eggplant slices instead, but who are we kidding? The fried version is ridiculously better tasting. And the real thing. A good compromise id frying the eggplant without the egg dip, for a "lighter" result.)

If you'll be using mozzarella di bufala, you'll want to set it in a colander or a sieve to lose some of its liquid, which could compromise the structure of your dish.

In a saucepan, sauté the minced garlic in 5 tbsp of extra virgin olive oil. When it begins to tan lightly, add the tomatoes and cook for 20 minutes. Add a dash of salt and some fresh basil leaves. I always add 1 leveled teaspoon of sugar... for superstition. Don't ask.

In a greased deep oven dish, alternate layers of the tomato sauce, fried eggplant slices and diced mozzarella. Sprinkle each layer with a generous dusting of grated Parmigiano and more basil leaves. Repeat the layers and top with a final blanket of tomato sauce, fresh torn basil leaves and lots of grated Parmigiano. 

Bake in the hot oven for 10-15 minutes. Allow the Melanzane alla Parmigiana to cool for 10 more minutes, then cut in 2" squares and devour.

Note: I've classified this recipe as a complete meal, bearing in mind that its filling nature can constitute a feast in itself. But consider that it normally rates as either an antipasto, or on very special holiday occasions, served as a side order!

Melanzane alla Parmigiana can be stuffed in a sandwich, or can be eaten cold straight out of the refrigerator to soothe all kinds of nervous symptoms. This is a marvelous midnight snack, and a potent antidepressant.

Buon appetito.

Stuffed eggplant recipe

I'm on an eggplant binge. Some time ago I posted a recipe for eggplant crumble to which my readers responed with mixed emotions. This is a 100% southern Italian recipe for stuffed eggplant I learned to make in Calabria. It employs bread, mint leaves and Pecorino Romano cheese.

A Mediterranean summer solace.

Ingredients:
4-6 large eggplants
Day-old bread, crusts removed and crumbled (for amounts see below)
1 or 2 garlic cloves, minced
50 g (1/4 cup) Italian flatleaf parsley, finely chopped
A sprig of fresh mint leaves, finely chopped
1/4 cup Pecorino Romano, grated
Extra virgin olive oil
Salt and freshly ground black pepper

Stem the eggplants but don't peel them, and blanch them briefly in salted water. Cut the eggplants in half lengthwise, and scoop out the pulp with a spoon, leaving about 1/2-inch from the skins.

Sliver the pulp–for each cup of chopped eggplant pulp you’ll need about 3/4 cup crumbled stale bread. Mix the slivered pulp with the bread, garlic, parsley, mint and cheese, a glug of olive oil and season the mixture to taste with salt and pepper.

Lightly grease the skins of the eggplant shells with a dab of olive oil, and place in a parchment paper-lined ovenproof dish.

Heap the shells with the mixture, drizzle with more olive oil, and bake at moderate temperature (190° C / 375° F) until done, roughly 45 minutes to 1 hour, oven depending.

Pop the cork off the chilled white Cirò and let the pleasure moans begin.

{Calabrian eye candy}

Zuppa Pavese recipe

According to tradition this dish was born in 1525, on the day King François I de Valois was defeated by Emperor Charles V of the Holy Roman Empire during the Battle of Pavia.

The king pronounced the historical phrase "Everything is lost but honor." According to legend, there was at least one other thing His Majesty hadn’t lost––his appetite.

He stormed the Pavese countryside, famished, in search of something to eat. Finally he arrived at a farm called Cascina Repentita, where a peasant woman was brewing a soup. The king told her who he was and that he was very hungry.

The woman placed a piece of old bread and some cheese in a bowl, covered it all with broth and then, thinking that this food was perhaps not noble enough for a king––even a defeated one––she went to the henhouse, picked up two eggs and broke them into his soup bowl.

After eating the peasant woman's Zuppa Pavese King François judged it "fit for kings," and upon his return to France had it included in the court's royal menu. How's that for an endorsement?

Ingredients for 6 serving:
6 tablespoons unsalted butter
2 tablespoon olive oil
Italian style bread, cut in six 1-inch slices
6 cups rich chicken or beef broth
6 free-range eggs
Salt and freshly ground white pepper
2 cups freshly grated Parmigiano, plus more on the table

Heat the butter and olive oil in a skillet and sauté the bread browning it on both sides, then remove and place on paper towels.

Meanwhile bring the broth to a vivacious simmer and keep it there.

Heat individual soup dishes or bowls in the oven, place a slice of bread in each bowl, and crack an egg onto each slice of bread, being very careful not to break the yolk.

Dust with Parmigiano, salt and pepper to taste; once all eggs are placed on the toast, carefully ladle the very hot broth in the bowls (not directly over the yolks, or they'll break). The heat of the stock will cook the eggs. 

If the eggs are not cooked to your taste, place bowls in a hot oven for a minute or two. 

What wine to pour with this dish? Pinot Nero dell'Oltrepò Pavese, of course.

More polenta recipes

Some of you don't dig cornmeal, and I totally get that. I didn't eat tomatoes and artichokes until I was 12, and now they're among my favorite vegetables. I'm still however nervous around liver and tripe, and anything involving innards, I am still learning to eat. So the polenta non-lovers will forgive me for this.

This post is for all you polenta advocates. A few days ago I posted a tomato sauce with short ribs and sausage as a polenta dressing. Today I want to tell you about how they do it in Modena, Val d'Aosta and a small village in Abruzzo called Castel del Monte.

1. Polenta Pasticciata Modenese

Modena's own Formula One polenta topping, better than a Ferrari: it races straight from the mouth to the thighs without even a pit stop.

First of all, make your basic polenta by following the steps illustrated in the recipe I posted a while back.

While someone takes a shift at stirring, assemble:

100 g (1/2 cup) unsalted butter
150 g (3/4 cup) Parmigiano, grated
200 g (1 cup) Gorgonzola cheese

Once the polenta is done and ladled onto wooden plates, fold in fistfuls of grated Parmigiano, flakes of butter and slices of sharp Gorgonzola.

Mix well, devour and thank God, Mother Earth, Buddha, Visnu and the entire Greek Pantheon.

Image © Roccoeisuoifornelli

2. Polenta alla Valdostana

Polenta of the taragna whole grain variety, is coarse and speckled with darker grains.

Again, begin by making your basic polenta by following the steps illustrated in the recipe I posted here, but let the taragna become a little more firm than your regular cornmeal polenta.

 

Image © Buttalapasta

While a kind soul takes over the stirring spoon, assemble:

200 g (1 cup) or more Fontina cheese cut in strips
50 g (1/4 cup) unsalted butter 

Once the polenta is thick and spooned onto wooden plates, toss in the cheese and butter, but beware: the heat of the polenta will melt the fondant Fontina. The effect could bring tears of joy to your eyes.


3. Polenta ai Finferli

These fairly bright yellowish orange wild mushrooms that are known by a variety of names, including Gallinacci or Galletti in Italy–and Chanterelles in France and the English speaking world–are among my favorite spores along with the mighty Porcini and the delicate and almost extinct Ovoli. This is a tasty basic sauce from Abruzzo, made with wild mushrooms that can easily dress fettuccine or polenta alike.

Begin by making your basic polenta by following the steps illustrated in the recipe I posted here.

You can make the mushroom sauce in advance, or on the day, provided you serve it piping hot spooned over the just-made polenta.
1 kg (2.2 lbs) finferli/chanterelle mushrooms
3 garlic cloves
A small bunch of Italian flatleaf parsley
100 g (1/2 cup) butter
Extra virgin olive oil
Salt

Carefully rinse the mushrooms with water, cut the stems and trumpet caps in half and put them in a skillet with the butter, oil and garlic. Cook at moderate heat, stirring often. When the mushrooms are cooked soft and still moist, remove from heat, add salt, and sprinkle with chopped parsley and, if you like, a few shavings of Parmigiano.

Once the polenta is done and ladled onto wooden plates, spoon generous amounts of the mushroom salsa on top. Pour yourself a glass of robust red wine, sit comfortably and blissfully enjoy your meal.

"The trouble with eating Italian food is that 

five or six days later you’re hungry again."

~ George Miller

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.

Pizza Part 3

Welcome back to part 3 of La Pizza series.

So far we've eaten our way through

An introduction to pizza and the history behind Italy's most famous food
Various kinds of Italian pizza and popular toppings

Today we will be closing this pizza series with a virtual tour of the birthplace of pizza, a brief stroll down the dimly lit alleyways of Napoli, for one last slice of authentic pizza and a nosedive in la vita napoletana.

The best pizza in the world is probably at Da Michele

There’s a pizzeria half-hidden away in Napoli’s dark alleys of the seedy central train station area, that serves perhaps the best pizza in the world. Da Michele is a small joint, and always a crowded one. Not even paper tablecloths on the small marble tabletops, and the glasses are all different, some are worn out around the rim from having been washed so many times. Two pizzas on the verbal menu only, marinara and margherita, three sizes each: small, regular and monster. Beverages available are mineral water, Italian beer, sodas. The prices are ridiculously low, and the line outside is unbelievable. The first time I went there, introduced by locals who acted like they were initiating me to a secret society meeting–complete with code handshake and solemn nods–it was a rainy autumn night. After a 20-minute wait outside standing under flimsy umbrellas, we were finally assigned a table by the oven, and while our order of pizzas was in the oven, I got to watch the pizzaiolo’s skills up close. When the food arrived, we clinked beer mugs to friendship and attacked our monsters.

As I moaned with pleasure, biting into my steaming slice of exquisite margherita, I saw what looked like disappointment on the faces of the napoletani sitting around me. They shook their heads and tsk tsk tsk-ed noisily. Our waiter hovered over our small table, apologetic. I didn’t know what the heck was going on, moderately devoid of all that was happening, I ate away, estatic at a pizza the likes I had never had before. What got my attention finally was that none of my friends were eating! Was I not in on something? 

Apparently the rainy night’s damp air had done something dreadful to the dough, tainting it, in their expert opinion. I found it divine, and no matter how much they insisted on the opposite, I ended up eating their leftovers and ordering one more. Next time you’re ever in Napoli, be sure to make a stop at Michele. Even if it rains.

Da Michele

Via Sersale 13

Tel. +39 081 5539204


Pizza a credito

Sophia Loren is singing. A wry smile on her face as she fries her pizzas on a makeshift steaming pan in the street. Customers stop by for a hot and fragrant pizzella fritta more to peer at her voluptuous cleavage rather than for the leavened dough she is frying. Her chubby husband is fanning the flames under the oil and mouth agape, stares transfixed not at Sophia’s ample décolletage, but her hand. “Where’s the ring?” Sophia’s expression betrays she knows. “It must have slipped in someone’s pizza,” is her prompt reply.

The adventures of retrieving the engagement stone narrated in Vittorio De Sica's masterpiece film "L’Oro di Napoli," in the Pizza a Credito episode starring Loren, narrates the impetuous chase in and around the narrow alleys and homes of Napoli’s Quartiere Sanità, only to end with Sophia’s lover returning the ring she had not mislaid in the pizza dough, but in his bed in the opening sequence.

The title of the episode owes its meaning to the old Napoli tradition of buying street food–and these fried delicacies in particular–on credit. The sign behind the characters says, "Eat today, pay in 8 days."

Another similar Napoli custom is that of the caffè sospeso. When a Napoletano is in the mood, instead of only paying for one espresso at the bar, that person pays for two: their own and one for the next client in need. So later, anyone not able to afford un caffè can simply walk up to the counter and ask the barista "any caffè sospesi?" The fortunate beneficiary of caffè sospeso will never know who to thank. A superb act of faith and compassion. Offering a 'hanging coffee' is like saying "it's on me" to the rest of the humanity. Caffè sospeso is an exclusive Neaplitan custom, and reflects in some ways the city's philosophy of life.

At the end of Part 1 I had promised to share another pizza recipe. Did you think I had forgotten? A promise is a promise. Here it is, your own Sophia-style pizzette!

A little pre-planning is necessary. First of all, prepare your steadfast basic pizza dough. If you double the quantities and freeze part of it you can thaw it later and make homemade pizza with different toppings listed in part 2. (That is of course bearing in mind that in this case, you should own a professional wood-fired brick oven. I know, I tend to repeat myself, but I can never stress the oven thing enough). For pizzelle fritte, fortunately, all you need is a frying pan.

For the sauce 

While you wait for the dough to rise, prepare a basic tomato sauce with:

5-6 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
2 garlic cloves, minced
500 g (1.1 lb) tomatoes, peeled, seeded and puréed in a blender; or a 14-oz can of crushed tomatoes
1 spicy peperoncino (optional)
Salt

Again, quantities are abundant, but it's good to have sauce handy for any recipe.

In a saucepan over medium heat, pour the olive oil and add the garlic. Before it begins coloring, add the tomatoes, salt, and pepper. Cook over medium heat for about 15-20 minutes, until the tomato sauce firms up, stirring frequently.

Leave the pan uncovered to allow the sauce to thicken. To prevent it from spattering, cover the pan with a mesh top or place a wooden spoon across the edge, so that the lid is partially open and the steam can escape.

You will eventually have to heat oil for frying in a large skillet, so take that timing into consideration as well.

When the dough is double its original size, punch it down to eliminate air bubbles.

Divide it into small orbs, each about 5 cm (2”) wide. Flatten each piece to make round disks about 12 cm (4-5”) in diameter.

Bring your oil to frying temperature, and fry your pizzelle 3 or 4 at a time until they are fluffy and light golden. They will balloon irregularly, don't worry, that's what's supposed to happen.

Place them on paper towels on a large plate and let the oil drain briefly. The pizzelle should not be crisp, rather soft and chewy, with a full crumb and large air pockets.

Slather each with an abundant spoonful of tomato sauce, top with a fresh basil leaf and 1 heaped tablespoon of grated Parmigiano. This particular type of pizza must absolutely be eaten piping hot. Tongue-burning hot.

This concludes our journey in the vast world of Pizza as I know and love it.

I hope you took as much pleasure in reading this series as I did in writing it.
Arrivederci from the warm and sunny rolling hills of Italy...


...I'm off to the frozen expanses of northern Sweden* until February on a very cold and interesting assignment.

Farväl!
*latitude 63.1°N longitude 14.3°E

Pizza Part 2

Welcome back to the second installment of La Pizza segment. Last week we investigated the history, appreciation and basic rules of Italian pizza-making.

From the comments on Part 1, I noticed that many of you are regular pizzaioli. Did any of you attempt baking pizza with the easy recipe provided? Was it good? Different? Any questions? Comments? Was it a triumph, or a debacle?

Non-Italians are used to a different kind of pizza than the one we eat here. Different ingredients and thickness, quantity of topping on a single slice and the overall flavor of pizza outside Italian borders varies widely according to place. Just think of pan-baked Greek, or Chicago-style pizza; or the U.S. Pepperoni topping, which in Italy does not exist. In California I loved eating a Hawaiian barbecued chicken and pineapple pizza, but I don't consider that pizza per se.

But let's take a look at other kinds of pizza we enjoy here in the boot-shaped peninsula.

Besides the already examined Napoli-style pizza which once baked in a wood-fired brick oven should be crispy, tender and fragrant, Italy also boasts a street-food, portable version. In Rome as well as in many other parts of Italy, pizza is available in take-away shops which sell pizza rustica or what is more commonly known as pizza al taglio. This pizza is cooked in long, rectangular baking pans and relatively thick (1–2 cm). The crust is often a little charred on the bottom, and this may be because the pizza is often baked in an electric oven. It is available with a myriad of different toppings, portions are cut with scissors and sold by weight. I love eating pizza al taglio as I window shop. Producing long ribbony strands of molten mozzarella and delightfuly dribbling my chin with hot tomato sauce... ah, bliss.

Another interesting kind is Sicilian-style pizza, sfincione (or sfinciuni, in Sicilian dialect), which has its toppings baked directly into the crust. A particular variety that originated in Messina is focaccia alla messinese, typically made with delicious sauteed endive and anchovies.

In Rome, the term pizza bianca refers to a type of flat, pizza-like bread topped with olive oil and coarse salt. It is also a Roman custom to stuff this white pizza with mortadella, or prosciutto and figs, the result being known as pizza prosciutto e fichi. Read more about pizza bianca on this post.

Calzone ripieno is a turnover-style pizza filled with several ingredients, such as ricotta, salami and mozzarella, and folded over to form a crescent before being baked. In Italian, calzone literally means "large sock", while the word ripieno actually means "filling."

Thick vs Thin, the ancestral Napoli vs. Roma thickness discord

In Italy there are two schools of thought. The Neapolitan fluffy thick border around the medium crust pizza and the Roman ultra-thin, crispy recipe. Try feeding a native of Napoli a Roman-style pizza and vice versa, you’ll only see disgust painted on their faces. Some scholars repute Napoli’s pizza (owning the original patent) as the authentic, but in its interesting difference, the Roman lightweight counterpart is no disappointment. I personally love them both, being my Italian roots planted deeply in both cultures, I belong to each in equal measure. And I eat their pizzas with the same nonpartisan satisfaction.

Best-loved pizza recipes

Listing the constantly updated creative commons of pizza would need a separate publication. The popular Italian pizzas listed below are the ones commonly featured on any pizzeria menu.

Pizza bianca/focaccia

Plain dough base with rosemary, salt and olive oil, sometimes served with prosciutto. Usually spontaneously presented as an appetizer by busy restaurateurs before even taking your order.

Pizza marinara

Tomato sauce, oregano and garlic. Steadfast and reliable.

Pizza margherita

Tomato sauce, fresh basil and mozzarella. Named after and dedicated to Queen Margherita di Savoia on her first visit to the bay of Naples and whose colors reflected those of the newly founded Italian flag. Kids love.

Pizza al prosciutto

Tomato, mozzarella and once baked, topped with slices of prosciutto. Sometimes added with fresh arugula.

Pizza Romana/Napoletana* (or Napoli)

Tomato sauce, mozzarella and anchovies. Thirst-inducing and delightful. Endangered species.
* In Rome, when you order a pizza Napoletana you get one topped with tomato, sauce mozzarella and anchovies; in Naples it's the opposite: that same arrangement is called pizza Romana.

Pizza capricciosa ('capricious')

Tomato sauce, mozzarella, mushrooms, artichokes, ham, black olives and a soft cooked egg. For the capricious and undecided.

Pizza Quattro Stagioni ('four seasons')

Same ingredients found in the capricciosa, but divided in 4 sections, not mixed. No egg.

Pizza Quattro Formaggi ('four cheeses')

Tomato, mozzarella, stracchino, fontina, gorgonzola. Sometimes ricotta can be swapped for one of the last three.

Pizza ai Funghi e Salsicce (or boscaiola, which means 'lumberjack')

Mozzarella, mushrooms and sausages, can be with or without tomato sauce. A winter classic.

Pizza Mare e Monti ('surf and turf')

Mushrooms and shellfish on a tomato sauce base. A little too nouvelle vague for me.

Calzone fritto

Another famous specialty found primarily in Naples, this particular calzone is a disk of pizza dough filled with prosciutto, mozzarella, ricotta and Parmigiano, folded over into a crescent shape, which is then deep-fried. Whenever I engage in one of those, I then have to then check into hospital for liver cloning procedure.

Pizza alla Nutella

Plain focaccia dough, baked to a crisp and smeared with Nutella with profuse abandon. (For those who are not familiar with Nutella, I suggest you read this post). Whipped cream topping and side order of potent espresso are essential for completing this decadent dessert-pizza experience.

Pizza pairing

Even if beer continues to be the most popular and immediate match for pizza, aromatic and sapid whites like Pinot Grigio, Biancolella, a delicate rosé, or spumante bubbles are a dandy drink pairing to pizza Napoletana. For richer pizzas like Capricciosa or anything with mushrooms, Merlot or Piceno reds do justice.

I hope you enjoyed today's featured pizzas. The great thing about this complete meal is that it's fulfilling but not too filling. Care for more?

Then come back Friday for the final insallment of La Pizza, in which we will be taking one last walk together down the narrow alleyways of Napoli, the cradle of Italian pizza.

Pizza Part 1

Pizza defines Italy. It plays a very important role in the Italian diet, and I can't feel good about blogging all things tasty without mentioning pizza. Being such a vast subject, this post will be divided into 3 parts. Today I will introduce you to some basic facts, a little history and the recipe for the basic pizza dough. Shall I order the beers while you read? Va bene.

Pizza is the most popular creation of all Italian cuisine, and certainly the best known of the Napoli area. Its roots are much older than the tomato that tops it, and pizza is probably one of the oldest existing foods. The Ancient Greeks covered their bread with oils, herbs, and cheese. The Romans developed placenta, a sheet of flour-based dough topped with ricotta cheese and honey and flavored with bay leaves. An early type of pizza was then developed in the later part of the Roman Empire; it was a round wheat loaf divided into 8 sections. Proof of this is in the lava-preserved artifact on display in the Pompeii museum.

Image © Beatrice 

But la pizza, as we know it today–with basic tomato sauce topping–originated in Italy in the late 1700s. It soon became very popular among the destitute as well as with barons and princes of the Bourbon court. Even finicky King Ferdinand I (1751–1825) loved cooking pizza in Napoli’s ornate Capodimonte porcelain ovens.


After the Italian unification, in 1889, in honor of queen Margaret of Savoy, master pizzaiolo Raffaele Esposito created a patriotic pizza, in which the colors of the Italian flag were represented by the white mozzarella topping, red tomato sauce and fresh green basil. He named it Margherita, dedicating it to the queen, who ate it contentedly.

The real Neapolitan pizza must be cooked in a olive wood-fired brick oven, which usually gets fired early in the morning to be employed for dinner pizza (in serious establishments, pizza is hardly ever baked for lunch for that reason). It is then meticulously hand-made by an able pizziaiolo who molds the dough disc with a thinner middle and thicker outer rim. Some believe tossing the pizza in the air produces best overall results. The spectacular image of foot-long blankets of raw dough being hurled in the air above your head is a thrilling experience. Specially if you’re sitting nearby, and wearing a dark outfit.

The ingredients and olive oil are then quickly spread on the disk, and with a brisk movement the pizza is slid on a long-handled shovel called a pizza peel, glided in the oven where it is spun around a few times in order to obtain uniform cooking.

The dough for making pizza in Italy is commercially sold risen and ready for use in most supermarkets. Homemade pizza is however a kind of antithesis, in fact the genuine flavor, texture and pizza definition can only be sought after in specialized pizzeria restaurants that bake their fares in large brick, wood-fired ovens; handled, flipped, tossed and crafted by specially skilled pizzaioli masters, and moreover made with the special hard water of southern Italy.

If you wish to attempt your own homemade pizza, follow these instructions similar to those for breadmaking. While waiting for the dough to rise, browse websites that market wood-fired brick ovens and acrobatic pizza-hurling classes.

Ingredients for basic pizza dough
50 g (1/4 cup) brewer’s yeast
2 cups warm water, plus more if necessary
1 kg (2.2 lbs) all-purpose flour
6 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil, plus more for greasing the bowl during leavening
30 g (1 oz) salt
2 teaspoons sugar, leveled

Keep handy the tomato sauce, garlic, fresh basil, mozzarella, oregano, salt and pepper and whatever you might like to top your pizza with.

In a small bowl, sprinkle the yeast in a glass of warm water, add the sugar and stir to dissolve both. Set aside until the yeast begins to form bubbles, about 5 minutes. Do the same thing with the salt, dissolve it in a glass of warm water and set aside.

Sift the flour into a large bowl or on a work surface. Mold the flour in a volcano mound–this in Italian is called fontana, 'fountain.'

Pour the yeast mix, olive oil, and the diluted salt emulsion in the crater of your volcano.

Using a spatula, draw the ingredients together. Add the rest of the water slowly and mix with your hands to obtain a solid mass. You may see that you need more water, or if your flour is not too absorbant, you may not use it all. As you keep kneading, a ball of dough will gradually start forming. Sprinkle some flour on the work surface, and transfer the dough on the floured surface. Knead it briefly with your hands pushing and folding it over, just long enough for the dough to take in a little more flour, and until it no longer sticks to your hands.

Grease the inside of another bowl with a little olive oil, and transfer the dough into it. Make a crisscross incision on the top of the ball of dough, and grease it with a very small amount of olive oil. This last step will prevent the surface of the dough from drying and cracking while rising.

Cover the bowl with a kitchen cloth, and set the bowl aside for approximately 1 1/2 to 2 hours until the dough doubles in volume. The time required for rising will depend on the strength of the yeast and the room temperature, which should be around 20–24°C (68–75°F), for the dough to rise properly. Avoid drafts and nearby air conditioning venting shafts.

When the dough is double its original size, punch it down to eliminate air bubbles.

Divvy it up into fist-sized pieces, and roll each into a ball. Flatten each ball to make round disks about 20 cm (8 inches) in diameter. Keep at it stubbornly: flattening the dough into a pizza disc is not easy, but don’t let shrinkage and elasticity disourage you.

When your oven has reached Inferno level, dress your pizza with 2 tablespoons of tomato purée (not more!), a thread of olive oil and some crushed garlic. Pop in the oven and bake for 7-9 minutes.

When ready to serve, drizzle more olive oil and sprinkle a dash of dried oregano and salt. Voilà, Pizza Marinara!

For the Margherita variation: spread the same tablespoon of tomato purée on the flattened pizza disc, spinkle it with diced mozzarella and a pinch of salt. Drizzle with olive oil and into the oven it goes, same procedure. When the pizza is baked and the mozzarella has melted wonderfully, drizzle a bit more olive oil, dot the surface with fresh basil leaves torn into bits, and thank Mr. Esposito profusely.

I hope you enjoyed this introduction to basic Italian pizza. Come back on Tuesday for Part 2 of the series, with an in-depth exploration of the various types of pizza, a detailed list of Italian favorites and another delicious recipe...