Meatballs and more

You may have caught on to my meatball obsession. Beyond consuming ridiculous amounts of cheese, the lure of leftovers reused to make polpette is, culinarily speaking, what defines me. Eating meatballs hurls me back into childhood bliss, they are my Proustian madeleines.

Small morsels bound together by a little starch and an egg go such a long way. Polpette are fun and easy to make, and equally fun and easy to eat.

Rolled in breadcrumbs and fried, baked, steamed, drowned in sauce––whatever the cooking method, polpette are sensational fridge-cleaners. In my family we eat meatballs at least once a week.

When I was living in Naples 18 years ago, my boyfriend at the time would have me over at his family's house for lunch quite often. The highlight of the week was on Tuesdays, the day his Nonna made meatballs. Her fried polpette will go down in history as some of the best I've ever eaten.

I can't feel like I'm truly in Venice until I bite into the meatballs served as cicchetti at Ca' d'Oro alla Vedova, a legendary bacaro in the Cannaregio neighborhood. The suspicion of minced garlic, the soft chewy interior revealed under the crisp, breaded crust is enough to make my mouth water at the thought...

In Rome, when not making my own, I embark in impossible-to-find parking in Borgo Pio just for the lemon veal polpettine served at Romolo alla Mole Adriana.

We're carnivores, so the meatballs I make at home use leftover bollito, or ground veal, some are made with fish even. Those who love beef tartare or carne cruda all'albese are served their raw chopped meat in the shape of a patty and variably dressed with taggiasca olives, capers, minced onion, mustard and so on.

Meatball madness doesn't stop at meat however, infact vegetarian polpette are just as popular in my household. Think winter broccoli croquettes, or a personal favorite, polpette di melanzane, eggplant vegetarian meatballs: a recipe published 8 years ago that's still one of my most popular posts to date.

In South Tyrol I learned how to make Knödel, the Alpine version of matzah balls, which––if you think about it––are "meatballs" made with bread. Similar bread-recycling is found in a typical Abruzzo peasant recipe called Pallotte cacio e ove, where instead of costly meat, bread and grated pecorino are bound together with beaten eggs. These are then braised slowly in a rich tomato sauce and served piping hot along with a glass (or five) of Montepulciano d'Abruzzo wine.

In the realm of bite-sized fried balls, I cannot forego mentioning the universe of arancini and supplì made with rice, or baccalà and potato croquettes and the famed olive ascolane, stuffed olives from Ascoli!

But polpette don't have to be exclusively savory.

Sweet dessert polpette are a sinful treat. One of my favorite ways of repurposing leftover panettone is shredding the crumb, wetting it with some milk and squeezing out the excess moisture before mixing the "dough" with an egg. I shape small bite-sized balls and place them on a greased cookie sheet. In the hot oven they go briefly to develop a golden crust, so no more than 5-7 minutes at 350°F. And it's suddenly Christmas all over again.

In defense of the fish

Italy is for the most part surrounded by sea, with the peninsula and its two large islands lapping up against various parts of the jagged Mediterranean. This makes most of us Italians very familiar with fish. Given such extended coastal real estate, it's hardly surprising that most Italians are raised catching, cooking and eating fish.

As a child I loved the act of fishing but hardly ever ate fish with bones. I was one of those kids parents dreaded, the ones too freaked out by le spine — bone or cartilage — to fully enjoy a meal of aquatic edibles. But mine wasn't a total embargo: I was simply more of a polipi kind of kid...

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Image courtesy of Massimo Capodanno

Recipe for Scabbardfish Involtini

Some people are under the (wrong) impression that cooking fish is a complicated affair. It is not! Actually fish is much easier to cook than meat.

When I last visited Siracusa in spring, the Ortigia market was jumping with activity already in the early morning, with the fabulous fish stalls attracting my attention. A vast array of fresh-from-the-sea gleaming, silvery creatures of every sort, including scabbardfish, which is such an underestimated marine delight.

Should you be lucky enough to chance upon sensational scabbardfish, here is a fantastic involtini recipe I learned in Siracusa...

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Brandacujùn ~ Ligurian brandade

Image © ristocasaebottega.it

Brandade is a fancy French word for pureed salt cod. Originally the cheapest ingredient around, poached and deboned salt cod that's been reduced to a pulp, often combined with potatoes pushed through a ricer and stirred with olive oil and garlic, is probably one of winter's best comfort foods. And despite its humble origin, with the culinary adroitness of the French, the concept behind this dish has been refined since its inception into a fine (and costly) delicacy.

The birthplace of this preparation is however disputed. Some say Nîmes in France is the world capital of brandade, while others in the Veneto region maintain "baccalà mantecato" came first. But my Ligurian friends declare their "brandacujùn", made with dried cod instead of salt cod, is the culinary ancestor of this delightful recipe.

Whatever the genesis, I love the pillowy combination of cod and potatoes, and enjoy it often smeared on crusty bread that's been generously rubbed with garlic. The flavor is delicate and the texture creamy, and I serve it to those guests who are worried about fish tasting too... "fishy".

dried cod from Lofoten Islands, Norway

The problem is I make way too much of it. When purchasing dried cod, it's never possible to just buy a small amount, the darn planks are huge! And so I end up making ginormous quantities and am left with lots of brandade leftovers. A great way of recycling leftover brandade is making my son's favorite croquettes, which I roll in small bullets, dredge in breadcrumbs and quickly fry in vegetable oil.

But before we talk leftovers, here's how to make easy brandade from scratch:

1kg (2.2 lbs) dried cod (I buy the Norwegian "Ragno" variety), soaked and rinsed until fully revived
1kg (2.2 lbs) peeled potatoes
1 cup extra virgin olive oil
1-2 cloves of garlic, minced
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
a pinch of nutmeg (optional)


Cover the cod in unsalted water and boil for 30 minutes. Lift out of the pot and allow it to cool before deboning, but save the cooking water for the potatoes.
Boil the potatoes in the cod water and when they are fork soft, add them to the deboned cod.

Now you can proceed in two ways: a quick and easy one, or the original method, which is more labor intensive.

Easy method (the one I use): Coarsely blend everything in a stand mixer, adding the minced garlic while pouring the olive oil, and finishing with a lashing of pepper and seasoning with salt at the very end if necessary.

Original method: Cover the pot and, armed with hefty kitchen towels and good muscles, shake the pot (the French term 'brandade' and the verb "to brandish" share the same root) until the ingredients are reduced to a soft emulsion!

Stay tuned for the leftover recycling recipe!

Sarde a Beccafico 2 ways

Some Italian dishes have the funniest names, and the richest history.

The "beccafico" is a curious winged creature. It's hedonistic nature demands it feed only of ripe figs. Becca– comes from the root beccare, the verb 'to peck', and –fico means 'fig'. Given their diet, the flesh of these fig-pecking birds is therefore fatty and rich. And very tasty.

Sicilian nobility would hunt beccafico and then feast on its prized meats, which were stuffed with their own innards, enjoying the voluptuous flesh, and gamey filling. This dish was sublime, but as a luxury comestible, alas unapproachable by the less fortunate.

The indigent, yet crafty Palermo citizens simply could not give up on this alimentary discrimination, and made do with what was most readily available and affordable to them – sardines – treating them as they would the precious birds. To replicate the sweet tang provided by the bird's original innards filling, low-income and artful Palermo cooks employed a mixture of breadcrumbs, citrus juice and dried fruits and nuts. Geniuses!

This traditional dish, originally born from the desire to replicate an unattainable delicacy, is still made in the "poor man's fashion" and sold in outdoor friggitorie (fryers), like the streetside ones in the beautiful Vucciria market. Other cities in Sicily besides Palermo also make sarde a beccaficu in their own versions, Catania in particular produces my favorite rendition.
According to area, in fact, these stuffed sardines can be either fried or oven-baked.

Since I couldn't make up my mind on which to describe here, I'm sharing the recipe for sarde a beccafico two ways.


Sarde a Beccafico Palermo-style
1 kg (2.2 lbs) sardines
8 tbsp breadcrumbs
2 garlic cloves, minced
1 tbsp brown sugar
1 tbsp parsley, minced
70 g (2+ oz) pine nuts
70 g (2+ oz) sultanas, soaked in lukewarm water
Salt and pepper
1/2 glass EVOO + 3 tbsp
Bay leaves, 1 large sprig
Citronette: the juice of 1 lemon, equal amount olive oil, a pinch of salt and black pepper

Preheat oven at 150°C (300°F).

Clean out and butterfly the sardines, that is remove the central bone, heads and tails, leaving you with only the flesh of two attached fillets and no bones. There’s an easy video on how to do this here: http://www.bbc.co.uk/food/techniques/how_to_clean_and_fillet_sardines

Toast the breadcrumbs and minced garlic in 3 tbps of olive oil, until lightly tanned.

Fold in the sugar, parsley, pine nuts, drained sultanas, and season with salt and pepper.

Add the half glass of olive oil and mix to coat well.

Divvy up the obtained filling on each sardine, and roll lengthwise, like a burrito, fastening each with a toothpick.

Place the stuffed sardines in a greased oven pan, alternating with a bay leaf between each.

Drizzle with the citronette and bake in the oven at moderate heat for about 15 minutes.


Sarde a Beccafico Catania style
In the volcanic city of Catania sarde a beccafico are prepared in a slightly different method.

1 kg (2.2 lbs) sardines
2 glasses of wine vinegar (not balsamic)
8 tbsp breadcrumbs
2 garlic cloves, minced
1 tbsp brown sugar
1 tbsp parsley, minced
70 g (2+ oz) pine nuts
70 g (2+ oz) sultanas, soaked in lukewarm water
Salt and pepper
1/2 glass EVOO
50 g (1/4 cup) fresh caciocavallo cheese, finely minced
Flour for dredging
2 eggs, beaten
Vegetable oil for frying

Clean out and prepare the sardines as described in previous preparation, and soak in the vinegar for about 1 hour.

The prep for the filling is the same as described above, with the addition of small nibs of fresh caciocavallo cheese thrown in.

Smear the filling on each butterflied sardine and top with another to form "sandwiches", pressing down with the palm of your hand to glue together.

Dredge each sandwich in flour, dip in the egg wash and fry in hot vegetable oil, in small batches, until golden.

Place on paper towels to absorb grease and scarf piping hot.

Buon appetito!

Fritto di Paranza ~ Fried Whitebait Recipe

We Italians are great fans of fried fish, and little else will bring smiles quicker around the dinner table than a fritto di paranza, a fry of assorted small fish, whose name is inspired by the typical wooden fishing boats used in southern Italy.



In many families, Christmas Eve dinner revolves around a menu of fresh fish. Before placing the babe statuette in the crèche manger, my family and I will be enjoying crisp fritto di paranza, along with other festive foods.

The requirements for awesome fritto di paranza are using absolutely freshly caught wild fish, and good frying skills.
Some confuse this recipe with Frittura Mista, which also may include calamari, shrimp, prawns, cuttlefish, squid and other assorted mollusks and crustaceans. But traditional fritto di paranza is made with 2-inch long (from head to tail) fish, which have been simply rolled in flour, deep fried, and then served with lemon wedges and a raw onion. You smash the onion, and eat crunchy bits of it with the fried pesciolini – heads and all (unless they're a little larger than 3 inches, in which case you may want to remove the heads). Purists frown on cleaning the fish, claiming the intestines provide a slightly sharper flavor. I prefer my paranza fish cleaned, but when the heads are small they're pleasingly crunchy, and the tails serve as perfect handles.

The best choice for paranza is shimmery-skinned pesce azzurro, and in particular, a local variety of whitebait called Latterini – small silvery-white fish. Latterini generally designate other varieties of small newborn fish, but only latterini can be bought without infringing the law, since these are a particular species whose adults never grow beyond their 2-3 inch size, while as far as the other kinds of newborn catch – like immature herring, sprat, sardines, mackerel, and bass – their marketing is illegal.

Common Neapolitan paranza may include, according to season and availability, small codfish, red mullet, little sole fish (in Naples called fricassuàr) and other small species like anchovies, and rock goby.

Fritto di paranza has one more mandatory clause, and that is it must be eaten absolutely piping hot. The Neapolitan expression frijenno magnanno, refers to exactly that, and it translates "frying and eating," implying the fritto should be eaten as it is being fried.

Here's what you'll need to make fritto di paranza to serve 4:

1 kg (2.2 lbs) of assorted tiny, 2-inch sized whitebait
2 cups flour for dredging
Abundant olive oil for frying
2 pinches of sea salt
Several lemons, cut into wedges
1 large white onion, peeled

Wash, clean out and pat the fish dry.

Coat thoroughly with flour, making sure each little fish is well covered. In batches, fry the whitebait for about 3-4 minutes, until crisp and lightly golden. Remove from the bubbling oil with a slotted spoon and drain on kitchen towels. Repeat until all the fish are fried.

Season with salt and serve with the lemon wedges and the raw onion shreds.

Keep crusty home-style bread, and one or more chilled bottles of Vermentino in an ice bucket, within close reach.

Image © fingerforkknife.com

Seafood restaurants in Rome

Image © Andrea Di Lorenzo

If you can't make a coastal getaway this summer, dining in Rome calls for fresh seafood, plenty of chilled white wine, and an early sunset buzz. Here's my shortlist of pesce musts (consider applying for platinum credit card before booking a table)...

Continue Reading The American in Italia Magazine

What I ate in Positano

Yes, that is someone swimming. March, 2011

You can find more photos of this glorious Positano vacation on my Flickr stream.

How to buy fresh fish

The one weak spot in seafood is its perishable nature. Already after few hours from being caught, the heinous action of enzymes and microorganisms begins to attack fish. This more so during torrid summer months, when the high temperatures hasten the alteration process. It is however not impossible to identify truly fresh fish.

As handed down by expert fisherman, old family friend and Positano sea authority Salvatore Capraro, here is a checklist of what you should always consider when buying your beautiful fresh pesce.

• Rigidity: when holding a fish horizontally by the head, the body should never fall limp, rather maintain a somewhat stiff condition. 

• Firmness: flesh should appear solid yet elastic to the touch. A good trick is to press a finger gently on the fleshy part: the trademark of freshness is if the dent disappears almost immediately.

• Eyes: fish eyes must be alive, shiny, convex and rounded to the outside. An eye that is sunken or flat, opaque and dull looking means the fish has been dead for a long time.

• Skin: must appear lustrous and well taut. Scales, if present, should remain well attached to the body, even when lightly stroked in opposite growth direction. Furthermore, in extremely fresh fish, the entire body is usually shrouded by a thin and translucent organic film.

• Gills: should always be pinkish-red, intact, clasped shut and laced with transparent mucus. If the fish has a blowhole or nostrils, they should always be found tightly closed too.

• Belly: the abdomen of the fish is the part that contains all the entrails, and which is the easiest to alter. If that should happen in a fish, the belly would result flaccid or swollen. A fresh fish's belly is instead turgid and flexible.

• Smell: Extremely fresh fish smells like the sea. A salty, marine fragrance. The aroma should be subtle and never unpleasant.

• Fins & Tail: must be in perfect condition, never frayed.

When buying squid, octopus or calamari, the best way to judge the tentacled creature's freshness is by closely examining its appearance.

• Color: It should always be bright and clear. After a few days, colors fade and become opaque, and in the central "belly" areas, the flesh acquires a yellowish-gray tone. Three to four days from the catch, cephalopode skin begins to form new colors, initially in small specks, then extending to larger body areas in various shades of pink, all the way to a burgundy wine color. At this point, the mollusk is no longer edible.

The role of seafood in the Italian diet has always been very important. Devoted Catholics eat fish on Fridays and all days of penitence, for example all during Lent.

Most large cities in the past had fishmongers to meet this demand, but there were also traveling fish merchants who, on their itinerary, covered those towns too small to support a specialized fish store. Globalization has wiped out this custom almost completely.

Many local pescivendoli and pescivendole – Italian for fishmongers and fishwives – are trained at selecting and purchasing, handling, gutting, boning, filleting and selling their marine product.

You can read more about surviving neighborhood fishmongers like Signor Mastroianni pictured above, in the article I contributed to The Travel Belles.

Polpettone di tonno - Tuna loaf recipe

Blurry vision and dry mouth.

I'm driving to work in gridlock traffic. At home my son's pale forehead burns, his throat is parched and his tiny stomach, still upset from the previous night's retching, gurgles ominously. 

Soft goodbye at his larger-than-usual chestnut eyes and infinitely long lashes: I whisper a guilty 'mommy has to go to work now,' and I choke back tears, while the unfamiliar babysitter stands in the doorway pretending she's not preoccupied.

This was Friday. A day that seemed neverending.

Fortunately this season's influenza intestinale bug only lasts 24 hours. The temperature is gone, no more projectile vomiting, and several sips of coke later, smiles and pink cheeks are back on Little E's face. I on the other hand have counted numerous new silver streaks in my hair.

It's hard to juggle work and a sick child. It's impossible to stay focused on the job while the person in charge of your sole reason for living can't get a clear reading on the thermometer (I couldn't help chuckling at how the sitter took my son's temperature, more like how you carry a baguette than an armpit lodge).

Tonight I cooked him the first real solid food meal after 3 days of tea and white rice. It felt like a party and the menu had to include a celebratory favorite. So I went with tuna loaf.

On a rainy sick day, nothing restores a smile back on my child's face like a good meatloaf, unrestrained cartoon-watching during dinner, and lots of boiled potatoes. This recipe revisits a family classic, employing tuna instead of leftover roast.

It takes very little effort, and your kids will gratify you with plenty cackle at the table.

600 g (3 cups) oil-canned tuna, well drained
150 g (3/4 cup) coarse homemade breadcrumbs
200 g (2 cups) Parmigiano, grated
9 eggs
1 cup broth concentrate
A dash of ground nutmeg

Put tuna and eggs through the food processor to obtain a supple purée. Remove from blender and knead in the breadcrumbs, cheese and nutmeg; and slowly ladle in some cooled stock, to keep mixture soft. You may not need to use up all the broth, just enough to moisten the loaf. 

Wrap the tuna loaf in a clean kitchen towel and fasten the ends with knots, candy wrapper-style.

Fill a large pot with water and bring to a rolling boil. Cook the 'tuna candy' for 20 minutes. Unwrap and let it cool. Serve sliced drizzled with olive oil and lots of steamed potatoes.

15-minute fish recipe

Some folks are intimidated by cooking fish, and I used to be to. My fears started at the fishmonger's. Was I choosing the correct variety for what I wanted to make? Was it going to be full of bones, or likely to fall apart in the pan?

Then I discovered that in the kitchen, if the ingredients are fresh and the method stays simple, there's very little that can go wrong. Here's a first step towards conquering your seafood stovetop fears.

This ridiculously tasty fish recipe virtually takes 15 minutes to make. If you don’t trust me get a stopwatch and the following:


4 white fish fillets (any kind you like, as long as super fresh. I usually use trout, amberjack or Dover sole)
4 tbsp. breadcrumbs (preferably home made)
4 tbsp. Parmigiano cheese, grated
2 tbsp. mixed fresh herbs (basil, chives, dill, thyme, sage, parsley)
1 unwaxed lemon
Extra virgin olive oil
Salt and pepper to taste

Heat oven at 390° F, and go relax in a tub of floral infused water and bath salts.

Start the stopwatch. Scrub the lemon with baking soda to remove any grit, dry well and obtain 1 tablespoon of grated rind.

In a small bowl, mix cheese, breadcrumbs, herbs and lemon zest.

Place the fish fillets skin down on an oiled oven sheet, season with salt and pepper, then sprinkle with flavor mixture.

Drizzle with olive oil and bake in hot oven for 5 minutes. 

Check the stopwatch.

Tonno ubriaco recipe

Tonno ubriaco means drunken tuna: a basic recipe originating in the seaport city of Livorno. It takes 10 minutes to make and can save the day in case of unexpected (and famished) dinner guests.

4 large fresh tuna steaks
3/4 cup of red wine
1 small onion, finely chopped
2 garlic cloves, peeled
1 sprig of Italian flatleaf parsley, finely chopped – I use fresh basil because I can't eat parsley
1 cup unbleached flour
Extra-virgin olive oil
Salt and pepper to taste

Sauté the garlic in olive oil over medium heat and remove it from the frying pan before it browns. Add chopped onion and parsley/basil to the pan. 

Dredge the tuna steaks with flour and cook along with the onion for 5 minutes. Add the wine, crank up the heat and allow it to evaporate.

Serve the steaks with the resulting fondo, fresh garden greens and golden fried potatoes.

The wine? Pairs well with either white or red, as long as dry and somewhat chilled.

{the tonnara at Scopello, Sicily}

Frittura di calamari, fried calamari recipe

Calamari are a very popular food in Italy. The bodies, sliced into rings and deep fried along with the curled tentacles, are a classic summer meal.

I sometimes get lazy and prefer to eat calamari alone, sparing myself the hassle of having to peel, bone and pick through small prawns, other assorted crustaceans and the (however tasty) bony reef mullet, which are all typical frittura mista staples.

Here's a recipe for a simple summer seafood frittura di calamari.

500 g (1.1 lb) absolutely fresh baby calamari, cuttlefish, squid or any small octopod mollusks
100 g (1/2 cup) all-purpose flour
100 g (1/2 cup) polenta flour (cornmeal)
Peanut oil for frying
Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste
1 lemon for juice

Cut the calamari in ringlets, leaving the tentacle clusters whole. If you've caught them yourself or the fishmonger didn't clean them, be sure to trim away ink sacs (if any) and remove the indigestible parts, like eyes, innards, cartilage, beak and quill nestled in the center of the head.

There's a video HERE that can help you learn how to do this easily. 

Combine the polenta with the flour, a dash of salt and freshly ground black pepper in a gallon-size zipper seal freezer bag and add the calamari pieces. Seal closed and give the bag a vigorous shake, to coat the pieces well.

Refrigerate for 20 minutes. Remember, temperature shock is key for proper frying.

Heat a generous amount of olive oil in a frying pan, the more the better. When the oil is piping hot, but not quite smoking (that means its burning!), remove the dredged calamari from the fridge and out of the bag, frying it in small batches in the olive oil. Small batches avoid the oil to maintain its hot temperature.

Fry these small quantities for no more than a minute. The oil will bubble up and cook the calamari all over, so there will be no need to turn. The result will be a lightweight crunchy crust and a tender, sweet fleshy inside.

Rest your fried calamari to dry briefly on a paper towel, dribble with lemon juice and eat with your hands, sensually burning fingers and tongue.

Swordfish steak recipe

Catania’s fish market is an incredible place, just around the corner from the city's cathedral. The stalls are scattered over an impressive area, under the Carlo V walled tunnel, the open Piazza Alonzo di Benedetto, stretching as far as Piazza Pardo. And although it's called a fish market, 'a piscarìa sells everything.

From 5 a.m. to about noon, the market is always crowded and busy. The overlapping voices of the vendors yelling at each ear–pushing their merchandise in front of your eyes baiting you to buy more, and clients bargaining prices, make you feel like you’ve been sucked into an Arabian souk.

During my sojurn in Catania, what I would go to the Pescheria looking for was, say, a ball of butcher’s twine; and I’d regularly leave with an abundance of fresh produce, herbs, dried fruits, amazing oranges, almonds, and huge swordfish steaks. So flabbergasted by the whole whirlwind of confusion, the assault on the senses with cacophony of sounds, rainbow of colors and assortment of smells, I hardly remember how that would happen.

Swordfish steaks must be eaten super fresh, grilled and cut about 1-inch thick. The slices need to be cooked with the skin intact, as this keeps the scaly flesh well compact. If you don’t want to barbecue, grill the steaks on a hot griddle or in a non-stick oven pan over the hot stove. Heat is key, but no oven please.

Ingredients for 4 guests:

4 swordfish steaks, 1-inch (2 cm) thick
1 tablespoon fresh mint leaves, torn
1 garlic clove, thinly sliced
1/2 cup white wine vinegar
1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
2 tablespoons toasted sesame seeds
Salt and cracked black pepper to taste

Baste the swordfish with the mint leaves and garlic in olive oil and white wine vinegar, marinading them briefly before cooking.

Heat the cooking vessel over fierce heat (in this case induction stoves may be too mild) and cook the steaks either on a hot griddle or over the coals, turning them to brown on both sides. Occasionally baste with the marinade.

Cook the swordfish steaks until well seared on the outside, and still tender but not rare on the inside. Slit a small gash in the flesh to check for doneness.

Lightly salt, sprinkle with the sesame seeds and serve at once. Oh, and pass the peppermill, please.

My doctor told me to stop having intimate dinners for four. 

Unless there are three other people. 

–– Orson Welles

Branzino al sale recipe

Branzino, which is also known as spigola (sea bass) is a tasty fish, with relatively few, easy-to-pick bones and firm flesh that handsomely holds its shape when cooked.

Image © ionino

This is one of the most effective ways to cook branzino. The chemical simplicity of this dish is astounding: what salt and heat perform on the sea creature is a miracle, extracting unimaginable juices and delicate flavors. It tastes wonderful, completely non-fat and looks stunning served on its baking oven tray. Considering that best results occur with bigger fish, you may want to share this with others in a communal food orgy. This is all you need: 

1 branzino or any local large fish (sea bass, yellow tail, bream, red snapper––whatever's fresh that day), weighing 2 lbs minimum
4 lbs of sea salt
1 black olive, pitted

Have your fishmonger clean the fish for you, eviscerating it but not removing the head nor scaling it, you'll need the scales to hold the skin together and the head for taste and show.

Preheat oven at 200° C (400° F).

In a large mixing bowl wet the salt with 1/2 cup of water or until it feels like snow. Mix with your hands and get a free scrub treatment. 

Blanket your oven tray with parchment paper and a 1/2-inch layer of dampened salt. Lay the fish in the middle of the tray and start piling on the rest of the salt, covering it completely. Shape the salt to follow the contours of the body of the fish, packing down firmly. This will be the crust that will form during baking. It will prevent the heat from drying the fish during cooking, and will not make the flesh too salty, to the contrary. 

This genius cooking procedure assures deliciously moist meat, fat free and perfectly seasoned. If you like, you can draw fish scales in the salt and place half a black pitted olive as the eye. 

Bake, undisturbed, for 25-35 minutes, depending on oven power. If you use one, insert a thermometer into the thickest part of the branzino: when cooked, the temperature should read 135 degrees. 

Remove the pan from the oven and take it directly to the table. Let the fish rest for 10 minutes, while guests admire your genius. With the back of a large spoon, give the salt shell a good whack and start peeling the crust away. The skin will come off with the crust. 

Spoon the fish off the bone, and serve. Group elation will surely follow.

Method images @ honestlyyum.com

Stocco e Patane - Cod and potato casserole recipe

Christmas Eve in the southern regions of Italy is traditionally all about a massive fish-based dinner, family, tombola, and midnight Mass. From now until Natale, I shall be posting recipes of typical Christmas fare, desserts and traditional holiday foods.
Last week Italia Living published an article on the history of Pandoro, a typical Italian Christmas cake. Today I will tell you about a tasty fish entree of which I am very fond of.

Stocco is the Neapolitan distortion of the term used for stoccafisso, which is sun-dried cod. When someone is said to be as rigid as a stoccafisso, the implied similarity to the Atlantic fish plank is quite evident. The surfboard-stiff slabs need reviving with overnight soaking, so if you’re in a hurry to taste this delicious cucina povera dish, I suggest you have your fishmonger prepare and clean some fresh codfish for you, divided into 6 fillet portions.

Image © Claudio Cicali

This tasty peasant dish from Napoli is–contrary to the belief that fish is laborious to cook–very easy to make. Stocco e Patane is delicious when paired to a chilled bottle of Fiano di Avellino or a room temperature carafe of young Chianti Classico (I personally prefer red with tomato-stewed cod).

6 codfish fillets 

600 g (1.3 lbs/3 cups) potatoes, peeled and cut in wedges

2 small onions, thinly sliced 

1 can (14 oz) San Marzano tomatoes, roughly chopped

Extra virgin olive oil 

Salt

A small pinch of dried oregano 

Drizzle some olive oil in a high-rimmed pot (Dutch oven). Place a layer of sliced potatoes and onions on the bottom of the pot. Cover with the chopped tomatoes, season with salt and sprinkle with oregano. On this bed, lay the fish fillets and repeat the layering.

Season with a bit more salt and oregano, and drizzle with a little more olive oil. Cover and simmer over medium heat for 10-15 minutes.

Avoid stirring and check for doneness. If the fish is cooked before the potatoes, remove it and continue cooking the vegetables.

When ready to serve, place the fish back in the pot and heat for a minute or two.

Serve the fillets warm, topped with the onion and potato slices.

Scapece di Vasto recipe

Funny how it happens. Saffron, being that orange-yellow flavoring, food coloring, and dye made from the dried stigmas of a crocus, is required in enormous numbers of flowers to produce a small quantity of the large red stigmas used for the spice. The fragrant zafferano is native to Abruzzo, but oddly enough, it is hardly ever used in the region's local cuisine. The highly prized quality saffron–with its incredibly distinct flavor–is produced in the province of Aquila but is mostly exported to be processed and mixed with other types of a lesser quality elsewhere, because the are no local Abruzzi saffron refineries. Huh.

And so the unique goods growing on the slopes of the Abruzzi mountains end up being used for flavoring creamy Milanese risottos, delicious Spanish paellas and redolent French bouillabaisses.

The only local dish in which saffron is employed in Abruzzo, is the traditional "scapece" from Vasto, in the Chieti province.

The Vastesi are a gentle breed. You can be so bold as to tell them their brodetto fish stew is not the world's best (they'll smile feigning aloofness), but don't mess with their scapece, calling it bland. The dignified citizens of Vasto are very proud of their bold scapece. And rightly so.

Palates would have to be irreversibly tainted by fast– and processed foods not to notice this extraordinary dish. A triumph of flavors and redolent perfumes of the Mediterranean Sea fused into one terrific gran finale. A true taste bud surprise for even the most demanding and expert gourmand.

The traditional Vasto recipe is commonly handed down in families from generation to generation. And since I am now working here in the heart of Abruzzo, I thought I could share the recipe for scapece di Vasto.

1 Kg (2.2 lbs) white fish (possibly thornback ray or smooth hound)
500 g (1.1 lbs) mixed mollusks and crustaceans
1 good pinch of saffron stigmas
1 cup fine quality white wine vinegar
1 small white onion, finely chopped
2 fistfuls of all-purpose flour
Salt
Olive oil for frying
A chilled bottle of Trebbiano d'Abruzzo

Clean and gut the fish and then cut it into small chunks. Trim and clean the octopus and other mollusks, and remove the carapace from the shrimp. Cut these in small pieces too and roll it all in the flour, fry in a skillet for about 3 minutes, and then park briefly on a paper towel to absorb excess grease.

Warm the vinegar over a mild flame, remove the pot from the stove just before it boils, and break the saffron filaments into it.

Sweat the chopped onion in some olive oil, and set aside when translucent.

Make layers of the fried mixed fish chunks in a high rimmed container (preferably glass) dousing them with the warm aromatic vinegar, drench each layer with a splash of Trebbiano and some sautéed onions. Marinade for 8 days, at least, and then serve like the Vasto fisherman would, with crusty bread, a seaside view and good conversation. Don't forget the leftover Trebbiano...

Buon appetito.

Pezzogna all'Acqua Pazza recipe

My Amalfi Coast friends are very familiar with this dish. This is the area's signature fish recipe, made with all-local ingredients. White fish cooked all'acqua pazza, literally, in 'crazy water,' is one of the simplest ways of preparing fresh fish.

Photo courtesy of ioviaggio.it

The origin of acqua pazza dates back to 1800, this cooking technique was practiced mostly by the less fortunate fishermen of Campania, Lazio, Sicily, Calabria and Puglia. These seafarers prepared their lunches on board their boats and instead of seasoning their seafood recipes with salt––which was too expensive––they used sea water, in addition to tomatoes, garlic and olive oil. So fresh fish, and unpolluted sea water, were a must. The unique flavor of acqua pazza lies in the simple combination of salted water, the fluids released by the fish and the tomatoes. The best to use here are the the terrific pomodorini al piennolo, a variety of local teardrop-shaped vine tomatoes which are harvested in clusters and hung on beams and trellises to ripen.

The ideal fish to use for this recipe is the Mediterranean pezzogna (or pagello), which goes by the English name bluespotted, red or blackspot Seabream (Pagellus bogaraveo). This is a salt water fish that swims in the deep Sorrento peninsula and Amalfi coastal waters around the islands of Capri, Ischia and Procida. It's very similar to pandora or snapper.

Here's the recipe for "crazy water"

Any one of the above mentioned fish, weighing 1kg (2 lbs)
250 g (1 cup) organic, possibly vine-ripened heirloom tomatoes, quartered
2 garlic cloves
A small bunch of Italian flat leaf parsley, finely chopped - I use basil instead
Slices of sourdough or country-style bread for bruschetta
Extra virgin olive oil

1 glass of dry, white wine
Salt

Soak the tomatoes in water and baking soda to remove any traces of dirt, then rinse well and pat dry.

Clean and scale the fish. Put it in a pan with two cloves of garlic, parsley and the tomatoes. Add the glass of wine and enough water to soak the fish half way. Cover the pot, bring the water to a boil, and simmer the fish until done, about 10 minutes.

In the meantime, make bruschetta: lightly toast your bread, rub the slices with the remaining garlic clove, and season them with a thin drizzle of olive oil. Divide the fish into 4-5 portions, arrange them on the plates, and serve with the bruschetta, and plenty acqua pazza sauce on the side.

I love this recipe's simplicity. It can also be enriched with the addition of clams or mussels, to be added 2 minutes before serving so as not to overcook them.

Tip: Make sure the fish cooks only half soaked in the crazy water, too much would drown it.