Cozze fritte – Fried mussels

Eating piping hot fried mussels from a paper cone, while strolling down the street. You can't make this stuff up, it actually happens in the summer in Taranto, and in other parts of Apulia, the heel of the boot. We are talking street food to the nth degree which employs fresh, local ingredients and pure regional knowledge, applied to daily life.

The fantastically crunchy on the outside, marine salty, sexy and velvety aromatic on the inside cozze fritte are true morsels of foodporn. Not the photographic, shallow depth of field foodie kind: I’m talking about the actual hands on, hard-core, triple-X, foodgasm-inducing mangia; the kind that will have you reminiscing for days, giving you sensual memory-triggered butterflies and shivers.

What was that about shellfish not being aphrodisiac? I dare you to try these, and resists the temptation. You'll look back on oysters like a second grader regards his training wheels.

1 egg + 1 egg white
100 g (3 oz) flour, sifted
500 g (1.1 lb) medium-large mussels (summer’s the right season for these, so get them while you can, northern hemisphere friends!)
2 shallots, finely chopped
1 leek, the white part only and minced
A sprig of fresh thyme, finely chopped
The juice of 1 lemon
1 glass of dry, white wine
180 ml (6 fl oz) lager (don’t use light beer)
Extra virgin olive oil for marinade, plus more for frying
Salt and pepper to taste

In a large mixing bowl, beat and season the egg with a pinch of salt. Beat the egg white separately until peaks form.

Sift the flour and add it with the minced leek, fluffy egg white and the beer to the egg, mixing well. This is your batter. Cover it up with plastic wrap and refrigerate for 1 hour.

Wash, brush and clean your mussels, carefully removing the byssus and barnacles from the valves, rinsing them in a salt-water solution, and then draining them well.

Steam the mussels in a large covered pan with chopped shallots, thyme, freshly ground black pepper and the wine, simmering over a vivacious flame to make the valves open, about 4-5 minutes. Discard any that fail to open.

When cool enough to manage with your bare hands, remove the mussels from their shells and marinade them in a bowl with lemon juice, 3 tbsp of extra virgin olive oil.
Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate for 1 hour.

Heat a generous amount of olive oil in a large enough frying pan.

When the oil is hot but not smoking, fish your mussels out of the marinade with a slotted spoon and dunk them in the chilled leek-flavored batter.
Plunge them immediately in the boiling hot oil and fry in small batches for a few minutes, or until golden and crisp. The temperature shock from the chilled, airy batter hitting the scalding oil guarantees the best results.

Park briefly on a paper towel and serve hot-hot-hot with a curry or ginger–flavored mayo dip. Conversely, the bottle of sparkling Frenciacorta Satén must be cold-cold-cold.

Images courtesy of buttalapasta.it - corrierecucina

Whistle while you work

Wine tasting

Pizza bianca with speck, smoked mozzarella. lettuce and pistachio pesto

Bufala + semi-dried tomatoes

Goat cheese and ricotta gnocchi

Oh shucks, vacation is over. Time to go back to work :)

Italian gelato 101

Gelato is among Italy's most loved and consumed foods, but where do its origins reside? And exactly how is it produced? Grab a scoop and discover the evolution and characteristics of Italy's most popular product.

The history behind gelato is uncertain. There are two theories, and the first asserts that the inventor of Italian ice was a Renaissance artist who lived off his sculptures, paintings and set designs for the sumptuous parties Cosimo I de’ Medici would throw at the Florence court. Bernardo Buontalenti was his name, and, according to a legendary tale, his frosty invention happened during the majestic plans for a banquet honoring very important Spanish guests. On the night of the event, he managed to astound his VIP audience with a curiously chilled concoction made with bergamot oranges and lemons, obtained through a clever use of ice and rotating barrels.

Before Bernardo's engineering inventions, the only chilled foods in existence had been "sorbet" hailing from the Middle East, imported to Italy by the Crusaders. Astonishing how a foodstuff made with crushed ice mixed with citrus-based beverages could survive the Arabian Peninsula's climate. Today we call that miracle granita.

The second theory on the birth of gelato relies on the figure of Francesco Procopio de’ Coltelli, a Sicilian who invented a machine specifically intended to blend cream, fruit and ice into a homogeneous mix.

Francesco knocked at the Versailles doors of the Sun King Louis XIV, bearing tubfuls of the new food which immediately fascinated the monarch, and the royal entourage in his wake.

With the king's endorsement, in 1686 Francesco opened a cafe on Rue de la Comédie Française, in Paris. His creamy chilled specialty became the leading attraction, with Parisians flocking in droves just to taste the Sun King's ice cream.

Whether it was indeed Buontalenti or Procopio who invented gelato is still open to question.

Fortunately, the first true chronicled gelati we know of were those created by Italian immigrants from Veneto and Friuli, who at the turn of the century, established in Austria and Germany–two of Europe's leading industrial ice cream manufacturing countries.

The turning point in the ice cream industry came when, in 1927, a gentleman from Bologna–Otello Cattabriga–invented the first automated gelato machine, thus making the product available to a wider public.

So its precise origin may still be debatable, but one thing is for sure, gelato was invented by Italians.

What is the difference between gelato and ice cream?

I get asked this question a lot.

Gelato is not simply an Italian word for ice cream. It is, in fact, an entirely different and unique product, separate and distinct from ice cream. Gelato contains many ingredients as ice cream–water, milk, sugar, flavorings and air–but in uniquely different proportions.

The three most distinctive differences between gelato and ice cream are low butterfat content, low overrun, and extreme freshness.

Butterfat content

In many jurisdictions, a frozen dessert cannot be called "ice cream" if it does not have at least a certain percentage butterfat content. Gelato butterfat content is typically one tenth of regular ice cream. The majority of gelato flavors are made with whole milk instead of cream.

Overrun

Overrun is a measure of air which is injected into the ice cream during production. A high overrun means a lot of air is added to the ice cream during the making, low overrun means there is not much air added. Typical North American-style ice cream can have an overrun of 100% or more. This literally means that half of the ice cream by volume is composed of air. In contrast, artisan gelato has a much smaller overrun, around 30-40%. But some less scrupulous Italian gelato makers have figured out that a higher overrun can cut ingredient and raw material costs. So steer clear of frothy, excessively sculpted and over abundant gelato: it's mostly all air.

Freshness

At an authentic gelateria, the gelato is made from scratch daily. Unlike many overseas ice cream parlors, the gelato here is made on the premises. True Italian gelato is not produced in large quantities and then stored. There are no preservatives added to create an artificially long shelf life, so typically, gelato is made fresh for consumption within a day or two.

The combination of extreme freshness, low butterfat and low overrun results in a product that is denser, creamier and more intense than traditional ice cream. Gelato is served at a warmer temperature than ice cream and has a cleaner, more smooth perception on the palate.

The best artisan gelato can be divided in two greater families: those which are egg/cream-based (chocolate, vanilla, pistachio, hazelnut, zabaglione, etc.) and those that employ fruit as their main component.

The blend that will eventually end up in a generous scoop in your wafer cone, usually starts with the mixture of liquid components, like water and milk. Next are added the slightly thicker components, like evaporated milk, eggs (obviously only in the "creams" category, not in fruit gelato), and glucose.

At this point this blend is heated to maximize homogenization (process in which the fat droplets are emulsified and the cream does not separate). When the heated blend reaches 40° C (104° F), the solid components are added, like sugar, natural thickeners (like agar-agar, or carob flour), ground coffee and cacao powder. This blend is then further pasteurized to guarantee absence of bacteria.

The following stages of production involve vigorous mechanic agitation and brisk stirring; churning in low temperatures, and maturing. These are two very important steps. By resting, the proteins in the milk and eggs absorb the moisture present, which stops the forming of irksome ice crystals, a veritable gelato no-no. Gelato should be velvety, smooth and creamy. If it's sandy and tooth-gritting because of grainy ice in its texture, it definitely is not gelato. This is also the delicate stage at which perfect gelato is whisked just enough and not pumped with too much air to obtain low overrun.

During the churning at low temperatures, gelato finally ices and becomes the creamy frozen delight that we know. At this point the water present in the blend changes from liquid to solid state, and most importantly, this is when artisan gelato makers add the typical ingredients which will define their gelato flavor: freshly squeezed fruit juices, fruit chunks, cacao, gianduja, vanilla, hazelnuts, pistachios, etc.

The final stage of the gelato production is when it is set to harden. The mixture is refrigerated at lower temperatures (-20° C/-4° F), and will be stored like that until beautifully dollopped on a wafer cone or in a coppetta, the typical Italian 3 to 8-oz tub.

Although gelato can be a year-round treat, strolling the avenues of the Eternal City in summer, we always discover newly elected ice cream shrines, where coppette and cones come filled with unconventional new glacial flavors.


The whim and talent of genuine Italian gelatai are beyond measure. Here are a few personally tried and tested fashionable flavor combinations:

Nero d'Avola Sicilian red wine and dark chocolate
Wild strawberries and spumante
Raspberry and sage
Basil, honey and walnut
Ginger, cardamom and almonds
Provençal lavender
Gorgonzola and pears
Poppy seeds
Wasabi, made with dark chocolate and horseradish
Kentucky, which is a blend of chocolate, tobacco, coconut-ricotta, and a splash of pure zabaglione
Candied rose petals
Rice and cinnamon
Saffron and ricotta

The list goes on...

Torta al cioccolato recipe

Straightforward chocolate cake is the Marvin Gaye of desserts: classy, smooth, sensual. This particular treat conceived after many delicious variations and tastings, features rich crusty chocolate with a moist heart, and a touch of bittersweet. Just like romance.

Image © Buttalapasta

100 g (1/2 cup) cake flour
100 g (1/2 cup) all-purpose flour
50 g (1/4 cup) pure cocoa powder (don't use Dutch processed cocoa in this case)
2 teaspoons instant espresso powder
50 g (1/4 cup) 70% dark chocolate, broken into pieces
200 g (1 cup) unsalted butter, softened
4 regular eggs (or 3 large), separated
300 ml (1 1/4 cups) drinking water
300 g (1 1/2 cup) packed dark brown sugar
100 g (1/2 cup) sour cream
5 ml (1 teaspoon) pure vanilla extract
1 1/4 teaspoon baking powder
A pinch of salt

Preheat oven to 180°C (356°F).
Butter and flour a 12-inch springform pan (best if with 2-inch high sides).

In a bowl, sift together the 2 flours, baking powder and salt. Set aside.
Break up the chocolate into 1/2-inch pieces and combine with the cacao powder and espresso powder.

Bring the water to a boil and measure out 1 1/4 cup. Pour over the chocolate and whisk gently until the chocolate has completely dissolved. Using water heightens the chocolate flavor of the mixture as opposed to milk. (Try tasting chocolate melted in warm milk and compare it to the taste of chocolate melted in water. The milk-based hot chocolate will feel thicker and richer, but the water-based hot chocolate will have a surprisingly strong chocolate flavor. Hence the Laura Esquivel novel/film title "Like Water for Chocolate.").

Once the flour has been sifted and the chocolate melted into boiling water, you must cream the unsalted butter with a flat beater. Add the sugar and mix until butter and sugar are evenly mixed.

One at a time, add the egg yolks and beat on medium-high until fully incorporated, scraping down the sides of the bowl with a spatula. Mix in sour cream and vanilla extract.

On low speed, mix in one third of the flour mixture followed by half of the chocolate liquid. Repeat with another third of the flour and the rest of the chocolate. Finally, mix in the last third of the flour. Stop the mixer once the batter has just combined, resisting the temptation to lick the batter.

In another large bowl, beat the egg whites until soft peaks form. Initially pour only 1/4 of the whites into the batter, then fold in the remaining whites until just incorporated. After that, the trick is to gently stir the egg whites, folding them over with a spatula in the same direction, and with a sweet smile on your face.

Pour the combined batter into the prepared pan. Bake until the top is risen and crusty, 25-30 minutes according to oven, or until a toothpick or a dry spaghetti strand thrust into the center of the cake and withdrawn comes out clean, or covered in dry crumbs. The center should be decadently soft and moist.

Transfer the pan to a wire rack and let it cool for 10-15 minutes. The top will fall a bit, but go ahead and remove the pan sides. To do this, loosen the cake’s edges by running a knife along the circumference of the round to release the cake from the pan, unbuckle the spring and sensually slide the torta onto a serving plate. Dust the warm cake with confectioners’ sugar, cut into messy slices, top with optional whipped cream and prepare to find religion.

Image © Celiachiamo

I won't wish you happy "lucrative-greeting-card-business" day because I don't believe in it. You may remember how last year I put forward my arguable reasons for this aversion. Every day is Valentine's Day in my home, not just today.

♥

On eating a white peach

I like to peel the fuzzy skin off a peach with my fingers. No blades, only fingernails. The plump fruit in question must be almost over-ripe to do this right.

And foreplay begins.

Deep floral notes invest my nostrils as I pare away with meticulous precision. The fragrant reward for such labor is reminiscent of south-facing walls and summer days, the cackle of child's play and my grandmother's sundress. Just a hint of almond clings on my fingers, like an afterthought.

When the shining orb is unclothed, it slips dangerously in my hands, I am compelled to assail it with my teeth. The first impact is a sensuous kiss, one wet with humor and dribbly juices. My chin cannot embank the nectar rivulets, they mercilessly fall like pink droplets of sunset to my lap. I bite so deep that my teeth scrape the pit. The succulent ambrosia tastes sweet, with a touch of tart to it; I try to prolong the moment by chewing longer, but the flesh succumbs to my mouth without effort. The sweet intoxication is devastating, I need to sink my teeth into it again.

I gaze in the opening my teeth have carved away from this exquisite Asian globe, and I see the outer white pulp begin to bruise slightly, its inner blood-red hues leaning towards crimson.
As the weight of the peach begins to decrease with each bite, I leave one last wedge attached to the gnarled pit, my eye slanting to the frosty glass of Ribolla gialla.

I dive the morsel into the wine and let it soak for a minute before indulging in both.

Caramelized figs recipe

A treat for the libertine in all of us.

Fichi caramellati, caramelized figs.

It's not fig season yet, I know. But this morning I woke up and jumped out of bed. I had dreamt of making toast, smearing it with ricotta and topping it with this:

Photo courtesy of the dessertedgirl.com

Here's how to make decadent happen:

1 kg (2.2 lbs) fresh, ripe figs (Mission or green), unpeeled
500 g (1.1 lb) sugar
1 glass of balsamic vinegar
2 glasses of water
A splash of dark Cuban rum
Cream

Wash the figs carefully–the skins shouldn't break off–and gently pat them dry. Place them gently in a saucepan large enough to hold them all in one layer.

In a bowl, melt the sugar in the vinegar and cover the figs with it, add the water and gently simmer until the liquid becomes thick and syrupy, and the figs fall apart. This could take up to 1 hour (depending on stove power and fig tenderness, the riper the figs, the better the outcome).

Spoon the glazed, jammy compote in Martini glasses or champagne flutes, splash with some rum and a dollop of fresh cream. Or ricotta…

Note: This recipe has been updated and improved in 9/2010 thanks to Saskia's kind contribution.

Window-shopping at Gargani, Rome

A little food porn from the storefront window of Gargani, the Bulgari of Roman gourmet grocers.















Featured in this first picture:
Upper left-hand corner: the delectable tortellini Maletti with a prosciutto and Parmigiano filling. Notice how the pasta dough is bright yellow, you thank the farm hen and her organic eggs for that.
Above, center: ricotta and spinach ravioli, homemade by a local pastaio artisanal manufacturer
Upper right-hand corner: organic pesto sauce sold by weight
Middle: tagliolini all'uovo, fresh egg pasta, coarse and delicious thick angel hair-type
Lower left-hand corner: "caramelle," pasta dough 'candies' made with spinach, stuffed with Fontina cheese and ground walnut meats.
Below, center: mini potato gnocchi (the size of a thimble)
lower right hand corner, hand made Ligurian trofie (perfect marriage with above-mentioned pesto)

Second photo illustrates:

Upper left-hand corner: semolina gnocchi (typical of Rome). These are discs of polenta-style cooked semolina, and they are usually prepared by broiling them in the oven to form a crispy butter and grated Parmigiano crust.
Above, center: capellini (angel hair) egg pasta nests
Upper right-hand corner: reverse angle on aforementioned tortellini
Middle: assorted fresh homemade egg pasta, sold by weight
Lower left-hand corner: mini multi-colored potato gnocchi (tomato and spinach added to the potato flour mix)
Below, center: "caramelle" pockets stuffed with a pumpkin and crushed amaretto filling
Lower right-hand corner: regular potato gnocchi

And now, onto dessert. The following 2 pictures display:

Assorted crostate tarts (apricot marmalade, Nutella, blackberry jam, custard and pinoli (Italian for pine nuts), mixed dried fruits, etc. Notice the price in the foreground, €16,00 per kilo (hence the Bulgari nickname)
Marron glacées (candied chestnuts with a caramelized violet flower on top)
Fruit tarts, with prevailing strawberries (out of season, really...)
Salame di Cioccolato, a decadent chocolate dessert. For the recipe, see my rendition here
Antichi (way, way in the far back), a confection inspired by an ancient Roman recipe: baked pastry baskets filled with honey, almonds, raisins and pine nuts
Pastiera, the quintessential Neapolitan Easter cake made with wheat, ricotta and just a drop of orange blossom essence
Apple strudels, they come in any size, shape and form
And away, hidden in a far nook, a majestic bottle of Veuve Clicquot Ponsardin, a damn fine Champagne