The Onion Soup Epiphany

I ate my first onion soup in a French restaurant in Rome called L'Eau Vive, an unusual place run by nuns and missionaries, located in a stunning Renaissance Palazzo.

Image © Whitecap.ca

It happened during a middle school French class field trip, and for some strange reason, the seating arrangement favored me to land at the popular girls' table. They were not cheerleaders, nor sports stars, these were all diplomat family kids, the majority of which well traveled and versed in international cuisine, and with a much broader cultural knowledge than expected of the average American 16-year-old.

These young women were the ones who introduced me nonchalantly to soupe à l'oignon gratinée. And it was during that epiphanic meal – when my spoon first cracked through the bubbled cheese crust, plunging past the toasted bread, and into the supple onion velvet – that I understood this to be a major turning point in my gourmand learning.

Our French class teacher Madame Moraglia, whose idea it was to go visit a restaurant instead of another French cultural establishment, further fueled this cathartic moment by suggesting which vintage Bourgogne paired best with the delight in our plates, teaching us about the textured and creamy wine and how it mirrored the soup's mouthfeel. I remember distinctly seeing her nod at the smiling Congolese Carmelite server, prompting she pour each of us a drop, in order to savor the complete françoise dining experience. All part of education.

This opened my eyes, and allowed a glimpse into what the real pleasures of life ahead were going to be. I will always be thankful to Mme Moraglia, to Allison and the other girls at my table for contributing to my culinary enlightenment.

Every time I wish to replicate the joy of that unique coming-of-age episode, I make onion soup. This is the recipe I have perfected over the years, through trial and error. This dish is uniquely French, so for today, you'll forgive this little non-Italian digression as we will fly past the Alps, and land in baguette territory.

Ingredients for 4
500 g (1.1 lbs) yellow onions, thinly sliced
1/2 stick butter
2-3 tbsp all-purpose flour, sifted
2 tbsp dry sherry
A pinch of salt and freshly cracked black pepper
1 liter (1 quart) boiling hot beef stock (a vegetarian version of this soup can be made with broth made with carrots, leeks, celery, potatoes, pumpkin or squash, etc.)
1 glass of whole milk
8 slices of crusty French bread, toasted
250 g (2 cups) Emmenthal, Gruyère or Swiss cheese, shredded


Preheat oven, setting it on broiler to high.

Cooking brings out the onion's nutty, mellow, often sweet, quality through caramelization. So this will be the first step. Melt 2 tbps of butter in a large pan and gently sautée the onions until translucent and golden. Careful, though: high heat makes onions bitter, so when simmering, always use low heat.

Sift in the flour and stir with a wooden spoon to avoid clumps. Season with a pinch or two of salt and a turn of the pepper mill. Splash in the sherry and deglaze the pot.

Pour in the hot vegetable broth and a glass of whole milk, and cook on low heat for about 30-40 minutes. This gentle, slow cooking will make the onion structure fall apart, but not completely, so if you're uncomfortable with the texture of onions, you can throw the soup in the blender and give it a couple of spins. Keep the soup hot while you assemble the servings. If you see it is too liquid, crank up the heat and absorb a little bit of the broth.

Butter the bottom of individual ovenproof baking crocks or ramekins (my cocottes are earthenware and with 2-inch high rims) and divide the onion soup ladling it in each bowl almost to the brim. Gently float 1 or 2 slices of toasted bread on each, and then sprinkle the surface with enough shredded cheese to cover completely.

Arrange your filled bowls on a cookie sheet, and broil in the oven for 10 minutes (time depends greatly on oven power) or until the surface of is completely au gratin, that is when a golden, bubbly cheese crust forms.

Serve immediately along with goblets in which icy Bourgogne Chitry blanc has been poured. A valid alternative can also be a chilled bottle of Côtes du Rhône blanc.

Bon appétit!

Italian Easter menu

Will you be traveling during the Easter/Passover holidays? I will not. I'll be spending the two-day Spring festivity stuffing my face with traditional Pasqua foods. I say two days, because the day after Easter – Pasquetta – is as much of a holiday as Pasqua is.

It's all about eating oneself into a stupor, as a celebratory ritual, which in some southern Italian homes may begin with the head of the family, or the eldest member of the group, blessing the table, foods and its invited guests. In our home this is done by solemnly dipping an olive twig (saved on Palm Sunday) in some holy water (collected earlier at morning Mass) and splashing everyone with a prayer, and a word of hope.

If you're looking to cook your own Italian-inspired food fest, here are a few ideas for a typical Easter menu.

The classic Easter meal always starts with Corallina salami, golden and savory cheese bread and hard boiled eggs, ritually painted together on Good Friday. Casatiello is another Easter specialty, a rustic bread made with lard, and studded with an assortment of pork cracklings, salami, pancetta and provolone cheese – and which differs from similar "tortano" thanks to the symbolic addition of eggs that cook whole in their shells nestled within the dough.

A typical primo (starter) could be the world's easiest baked pasta dish ever, my unfailing angel hair timballo, whose condiment of choice could be the appropriate Vignarola, a flavorful medley of Spring vegetables and legumes like fava beans, peas and artichokes, sautéed together with chunks of crisp guanciale. Another Easter pasta tradition is making Lasagna, and in the south of Italy this means a complex production involving hard-boiled eggs, rich tomato sauce, ricotta, pork meatballs or crumbled sausage.

The Italian Easter meal cannot be complete without some kind of roasted ovine meat. This year, we will be having both, lamb AND capretto, duly accompanied by roasted potatoes and other side dishes, which may include seasonal delights, or savory vegetable pies, like Pizza di Scarola, braised artichokes "alla Romana", and a delightful specialty of Puglia, Fave e Cicoria (sautéed chicory and fava bean purée).

The meal usually ends with a slice of freshly baked Pastiera – a pie made of wheat, ricotta and orange blossom water; and colomba, a cake whose dough is similar to Panettone, and whose dove-shaped crust is studded with almonds and pearl sugar sprinkles. Copious amounts of wine obviously complement the meal.

A steaming cup of freshly brewed espresso, and a glass of Amaro to be sipped slowly, prepare both body and mind for a restorative nap, and... plans for the following day's Pasquetta meal.

 

Buona Pasqua!

Winter pasta sampler

Chilly weather is the Italian invitation for starch-dependent menus. Though they're consumed with abandon year-round, winter gives carbs an even bigger welcome mat.
Some pasta dishes are particularly well suited to the colder months, most not necessarily dependent on seasonal ingredients. They include hearty grain and vegetable soups, richly dressed ragùs, and the best of all gourmet comfort foods, risotto.

Here are three of my favorite stalwart winter primi piatti, with a little bit of history and recipes.
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I made the papers!

There was a lovely article about my food blogging in the Rome issue of Corriere della Sera this weekend. It talked a bit about my childhood, my family, how I came to blogging, and how my career has evolved out of film and into food writing. It was a very well written article, and condensed the friendly, hour-long chat I had with columnist Maria Egizia Fiaschetti, who penned the story.

Here is an online version of the printed article.
Definitely going into my book proposal package to publishers!