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.

Continue Reading ➔

Cooking mushrooms, Italian style

Italy is in full-on mushroom frenzy right now. Porcini, finferli, chiodini, ovoli, prataioli, spugnole… you name it, the majority of local Autumn mushroom varieties are here and we're binging on them at home and when dining out.

The easiest way to cook mushrooms? Trifolati. 

The Italian cooking term means "cooked in olive oil, garlic and parsley" and the adjective only applies to mushrooms, as in "funghi trifolati".

Funghi trifolati is a delicious, light side dish, a classic of seasonal fall cuisine and among Italy's most loved vegetarian dishes.

Continue Reading for the recipe ➔

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

Insalata di carciofi recipe

It's been a while since I last wrote about artichokes. I have a long-lasting love affair with thistle-like flowerheads that borders illicit.

I like to eat them in every fashion, be they steamed with just a dribble of melted butter, tossed in "vignarola" (sautéed peas, lettuce, fava beans and bacon), thinly sliced and then deep fried in batter, in pasta dressing, mixed in with braised sweetbreads, alla Romana. When I'm lazy, I pluck the raw inner leaves, and dip them in seasoned olive oil. There are so many ways of enjoying carciofi!

One of my favorite winter artichoke recipes, is the delightful and citrusy insalata di carciofi, a perky raw artichoke salad. Perfect for Sunday lunch, this makes for a great sidekick to rack of lamb with rosemary and roasted potatoes.

It's easy to make, and you can put it together quickly. It however benefits from marinading before serving. Here's what you need to serve 4 artichoke lovers:

6 small winter artichokes
A large chunk of Parmigiano Reggiano cheese
Juice of 2 lemons
Extra virgin olive oil
Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

Soak the artichokes in plenty cold water and baking soda to remove any traces of pesticides or field dirt, rinse several times and pat dry. Cut away outer leaves, inner fuzz and the outside skin from the stems. You can follow my step-by-step artichoke trimming tutorial if need be; or take advantage of the signora at your farmer's market who pares them for her aficionado clients.

Cut the trimmed chokes in quarters and slice them finely, directly into the salad bowl. Drizzle with the lemon juice. This will prevent them from darkening, and will provide the acidic base for the dressing.

Season with very little salt, plenty freshly ground black pepper and olive oil. Toss and let the salad marinate for at least an hour before serving.

When ready to bring at the table, use a mandoline to shave thin wafers of Parmigiano over the seasoned artichokes, I personally abound.

You could, of course, pour a red wine to accompany this dish, but we don’t want to go there. Artichokes are hard to pair. But a bottle of dry white, chilling in a bucket on the table, within easy reach is a fine solution.

Buon appetito.

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.

Caponata recipe

Italy is one great vegetable patch from the Alps down to the Sicilian volcanoes. Anything that can be cultivated easily turns into delightful side dishes of one sort or another, many of which also double as main course in a light meal, or a pasta condiment. The sunny climate, close proximity to Mediterranean coastlines, hard water and mineral-rich volcanic soil, all contribute in giving Italian vegetables an intense, unique flavor.

The savory dish most people probably associate with Sicily than any other is caponata, an eggplant delight of purported Spanish origin that has spread throughout the Peninsula. But much of the caponata eaten outside of its volcanic island home is a shadow of what it should be–a piquant delicacy ideal for perking up a lethargic appetite on a hot summer day.


4 kg (8.8 lbs) eggplants
200 g (1 cup) Kalamata or Gaeta olives, pitted
100 g (1/2 cup) salted capers, rinsed
2 kg (4.4 lb) celery
3 large onions, finely sliced
4 large tomatoes, blanched, peeled, seeded and chopped
100 ml (3 fl oz) wine vinegar
2 tbsp. sugar
Fresh basil leaves
2 tbsp. pine nuts
Extra virgin olive oil
Salt

Begin by stripping the stringy fibers from the celery stalks, and blanch them in lightly salted water for 5 minutes. Drain them, cut them into small chunks, sauté them in a little oil, and set them aside.

Wash the eggplants, dice them, put the pieces in a large colander, sprinkle them liberally with salt, and let them sit for 30 minutes to draw out their bitter juices. Once the eggplants have been "purged," rinse away the salt and pat the pieces dry.

Sauté the onions in olive oil; once they become translucent, add the capers, pine nuts, olives, and tomatoes. Continue cooking, stirring with a wooden spoon, until the tomatoes are done, about 15 minutes, and then remove the pot from the stove.

While the tomatoes are cooking, heat some olive oil in a large skillet, and fry the diced eggplant. Do this in several batches to keep the oil from cooling down.

When the last batch is done, return the tomato pot to the fire and stir in the fried eggplant, together with the previously sautéed celery. Cook for several minutes over a low flame, stirring gently, then pour in the vinegar and the sugar. When the vinegar has almost completely evaporated remove the pot from the fire and let it cool.

Serve your caponata at room temperature, garnished with fresh basil. There will be a lot, but don't worry, because it keeps for several days in the fridge, and it is common Sicilian knowledge that tastes better after a few days. Makes a perfect sandwich filler too...

Image credits: joana hard, miss_yasmina

Zucchine alla scapece recipe

This recipe of Spanish origin (escabeche––the term that Neapolitans under Spanish domination in the 18th century twisted into scapece––means 'pickle' in standard Castilian) is one of Napoli's signature vegetable dishes. These zingy zucchini, known in Rome's Jewish quarter as concia, are commonly served as antipasto or as a side dish. Ideal along side grilled meats, zucchine alla scapece's primary characteristic is the mint-scented vinegar marinade they are steeped in.

I like to pair mine with fresh mozzarella di bufala and lots of warm crusty bread.

500 g (1.1 lb) fresh zucchine (preferably the ribbed "Romanesche" variety)
3 garlic cloves, minced
1 cup white wine vinegar
Extra virgin olive oil
1 sprig fresh mint
A bunch of fresh basil
Peperoncino flakes (optional)
Salt
Vegetable oil for frying

Soak the zucchine in water and baking soda to rid them of any chemicals or field dirt. Rinse well several times and pat dry. Thinly slice in discs and fry them in abundant oil in small batches, so that the oil doesn’t cool down.

As they begin to darken while frying, fish them out with a slotted spoon and place them in a bowl without blotting away the grease.

Marinade the fried zucchini in olive oil, vinegar, garlic and herbs directly in the serving bowl.

Season to taste and let the marinade sit overnight. It is common Neapolitan (and Spanish) knowledge that the zucchini benefit of the intensity of the 'scapece flavor in direct proportion to how long they steep in the marinade.

Cipolline borrettane - balsamico glazed onion recipe

If you've never tried the small and flat, pearl-white disk shaped onions called cipolline borettane, this is a tasty way to familiarize with them.

These delectable bulbs can be traced back to the 15th century where they were first grown in Boretto in the province of Emilia-Romagna. Now they are sold virtually everywhere in Italy, already peeled and ready for use.

Pair them with aged cheese platters, crusty Italian bread or a rare beef steak. This is our nanny's signature recipe, thank you Yolanda!

400 g (2 cups) cipolline borettane, peeled
1/2 glass balsamic vinegar
2 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
3 tbsp brown sugar
Salt

Blanch the onions whole in lightly salted water for 5 minutes, or until they begin to darken slightly. Drain, pat dry with a kitchen towel and set aside.

In a wide skillet, heat the oil and sauté the onions briefly; then splash in some extra old balsamic vinegar and brown sugar to deglaze the pan and caramelize the juices to create a lovely sticky sauce. 

The ingredient quantities should just be indicative, try to adjust to your own taste and desired degree of caramelization.

The onions are done when they are tawny and begin to fall apart.

Wine pairing tip: These sweet glazed onions will sing with a bright and juicy red made with a large percentage of Sangiovese grapes, one that does not have any Cabernet, Merlot, or Syrah in its blend.

Buon appetito!

Melanzane al gratin - Eggplant crumble recipe

I wonder why some call it eggplant. It's more pear-shaped than egg. Eggplants are purple, lightweight and shiny; eggs–whether pink or white–are neither. I must admit (reluctantly) that the borrowed French name aubergine sounds so much better.

Creamy lush aubergines tucked away under a blanket of crunch: my savory Mediterranean twist on a British classic is melanzane al gratin, a sort of savory eggplant crumble.

Ingredients for 6

3 purple eggplant
2 white onions
150 g (3/4 cup) Parmigiano, grated
150 g (3/4 cup) very cold butter, possibly salted
150 g (3/4 cup) unbleached flour
6 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
3 tablespoons balsamic vinegar
Salt and pepper

Preheat oven to 180° C (356° F - mark 6).


Wash the eggplant under running water and dry them accurately.

Cut crosswise into slices 1/2-inch thick. Make a layer of these in a sieve and sprinkle with salt. Continue layering and sprinkling with salt until all of the slices are used. Top with a plate and a heavy weight, like a pot.

Place the sieve over a bowl or in the sink. Let this stand for 1 hour to drain off the bitter juices. Rinse off the salt and dry the eggplant slices with paper towels.

Addendum: Salting the eggplant slices draws out their bitter juices. If the eggplant is very fresh, this step is not essential, but if you are unsure about their provenance, it's a good habit against a disappointing dish. 

 
Dice the leached eggplant slices and do the same with the onions. Pour them in a fairly high-rimmed baking pan with the oil and vinegar, season with salt and pepper and mix to coat well.

Cut the butter in flecks and work into the flour and grated Parmigiano cheese with your hands. The warmth of your blood will sensually melt the butter and allow it to absorb the powdery textures into a coarse crumbly blob. Don't get too carried away doing this or it will turn too creamy and not serve its purpose.

Sprinkle the obtained crumble in one uniform layer over the dressed veggies in the baking pan.

Bake in the oven for 45 minutes, or until the topping appears golden and crisp. Check often, as cheese tends to brown suddenly. Should this happen soon before the cooking time has elapsed, lower the temperature to 150° C (300° F - mark 5) and wait. On the contrary, should 35 minutes into baking not show any signs of golden hues on the crumble, raise the heat to 210° C (410° F - mark 7) while you slip into something more comfortable.

Let the crumble cool 5 minutes before serving.

Image © Sunfox

Cotechino e lenticchie recipe

As the world prepares its champagne flûtes, firecrackers and party frocks, here in Italy we welcome the arrival of the new year strictly adhering to tradition.

Just like the American custom of dropping a ball of some sort, be it an orange in Florida or a sparking orb in Times Square, in some southern regions of Italy, all things which are old are discarded in riddance of all accumulated ill, and as an act of welcoming in the New Year’s fortune.

Italian New Year's eve, you see, is all about superstition.

In tune with the average Italian theatrical and imaginative character, it is believed that the older the item thrown away and more exaggerated the gesture, the greater the amount of luck generated. So don’t be surprised if at midnight on December 31st you see an old dishwasher flying out a window. Napoli, being the drama queen of the boot-shaped Peninsula, besides an addiction to exploding firecrackers and home made fire-work bombs, is the city where at dawn on January 1st, the streets are a bizarre exhibit of jettison debris. Free vintage everything, from toilet bowls, old newspapers saved for the occasion, closet clutter, old rugs and tiles, stripped shreds of wallpaper, out-of-fashion clothes, old calendars, chipped furniture.

Legend has it that the fumes of alcohol and gunpowder fogged the minds of those who tossed 92 year-old Grandma Luigina from the kitchen balcony that time.

Another fortune bearing midnight exercise is that of eating three white grapes on the twelfth bell toll.

My favorite luck-endearing function is that of slipping on sexy bright red lace underwear right after midnight. Fire engine red underwear, or any foundation garment in close proximity to the serendipitous bottom, is said to bring money and lots of good sex in the coming year.The most powerful luck engendering measure on Italian New Year’s eve is however the menu. The typical Capodanno (“head of the year”) dinner is one monumental good luck charm. It is composed of stewed lentils and thick slices of cotechino (lentils are said to bring money, zampone or cotechino, a large spiced pork meat sausage, represents phallic abundance), and some even delay dinner to past midnight so as to eat this palatable dish on the date of the New Year and not one minute earlier to avoid jinxing its effect.

The Cotechino originated in the province of Modena, a land of unhinged poetic epicureans, famous race cars, liberal politicians and generous foodstuffs. This fresh pork sausage is quite large, usually about 2 inches in diameter and 8 to 9 inches long. It is made from pork rind and meat from the cheek, neck and shoulder, and is usually seasoned with nutmeg, cloves, salt and pepper. The best cotechino is delicately flavored and has a soft, almost creamy texture.

I was fed this rich winter dish on a torrid mid-August day at countryside inn while on a film shoot and my liver still resents it. I later found out that in the nearby unconventional town of Castelnuovo Rangone, the mayor erected a statue to the town's most popular citizen honoring its annual sacrifice. A life-size bronze pig dominates the main piazza facing the church.

So, bearing in mind that on the night of December 31st, a timed combination of lentils, cotechino, grapes and red briefs will guarantee 365 days of bliss, here is my mother's recipe for Italy's typical fortune-bearing New Year's Eve fare. You have 3 days to get it together.

Cotechino e Lenticchie recipe

1 kg (2 lb) pre-cooked Cotechino di Modena (a well stocked deli or Italian specialty store will inevitably sell it, especially around holiday season)
400 g (2 cups) brown lentils (best if you can get your hands on the Castelluccio di Norcia or Santo Stefano di Sessanio variety - very tiny and delicious)
1/2 white onion, chopped
1/2 carrot
1/2 celery rib
1 meat bouillon cube
4 tablespoons unseasoned tomato sauce
3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

Arrange the lentils on a sheet pan or wide platter and sort through them to pick out any small rocks, pieces of dirt, lentils with holes or cavities, badly misshapen or shriveled ones and those greatly undersized or discolored.

Next, wash the lentils twice in cold water – with this cooking procedure there’s no need to soak them.

Follow the manufacturer's cooking instructions for the cotechino. Some notable brands of precooked cotechino (Fini, Citterio, etc.) require a minimum 20-minute boiling time of the air packed aluminum wrapped cotechino, but each maker applies different instructions. Once the cotechino is cooked, set it aside and cover it with plastic wrap. Do not refrigerate.

Wash, rinse and dry the vegetables. Chop the onion and leave the carrot and celery whole. Put the chopped onion, carrot and celery in a large pot with a splash of olive oil. Simmer lightly for 5 minutes over low heat, stirring with a wooden spoon. Add the lentils, bouillon cube and tomato sauce, stirring for another 5 minutes.

In a separate pot bring 2 liters (2 quarts) of water to a boil. Pour enough boiling water to cover the lentils. As it dries up, keep adding water as you would for risotto (without having to constantly stir), as the lentils absorb the liquid. You may not use all the water, or you may have to heat some more as the lentils drink up during cooking.

Guessing the correct cooking time of lentils is a challenge. It's important to obtain a thick, homogeneous, solid soup. Lentils must be well cooked to a soft texture, but not puréed.

Wine? In order to degrease the rich character of cotechino, wines rich in carbon dioxide are best. These include Lambrusco Grasparossa di Castelvetro, or Pinot Nero Spumante Metodo Classico dell’Oltrepò Pavese, whose vinification is white.

Slice the cotechino and serve over a bed of lentils. Possibly wearing indecent red lingerie.

Buon Anno!

Orange and date salad recipe

I first tasted this bizarre savory orange salad in the splendid town of San Vito Lo Capo, just west of Trapani in Northern Sicilia. Then, years later, on a complicated film shoot in the Maghreb I was fed this delight in a seafront tavern of Tunis. Identical in every way, like two drops of Mediterranean Sea water.

4 Tarocco blood oranges (medium-sized, sweet and juicy)
12 sugared dates, pitted
1 garlic clove (optional), peeled and sliced
4 tbsp organic brown sugar
Dash of cinnamon
Extra virgin olive oil
Salt and freshly ground black pepper

Peel the oranges, trimming away all white pith parts and remove seeds, if any (the Tarocco variety is seedless). Slice horizontally and arrange on a wide platter. Dust with cinnamon and sugar, season with slivered garlic, olive oil, salt and pepper, and garnish with chopped dates.

Serve chilled as tantalizing exotic prelude to fish cous cous and belly dancing dinner.

Puntarelle recipe

Rome's curious curled chicory salad, Puntarelle are the number two Roman quintessential vegetable after artichokes. They are the sprouts of a chicory variety called cicoria di catalogna, puntarelle chicory or asparagus chicory, picked while still young and tender. Of course I am craving them now. And of course, like many other of my cravings, they are in season only in winter...

The preparation of this raw salad is a little complex, fortunately puntarelle are sold in Rome’s farmers’ and corner markets already trimmed and "curled." If I was able to find puntarelle in a supermarket tucked away in the hills above northern Bologna, I’m sure you can get your hands on a crate too, whatever your location.

The sprouts and shoots of the puntarelle are cut lengthwise into long, thin strips and soaked in acidulated ice-cold water for an hour.

This causes the crunchy pale green chicory to curl up in extraordinary Shirley Temple-style, to become juicier and less bitter. The recipe for the punchy dressing of this very particular salad dates back to ancient Rome. Another bizarre flavor combination, but a delicious one at that.

When come November, your mind drifts to the Eternal City, and you mysteriously begin to long for the unique smell of roasting chestnuts and the particular glint of wet cobblestones in the morning sun, go ahead and assemble the following ingredients for a taste of true Roman flavor.

1 kg (2.2 lbs) puntarelle (can be substituted with Belgian endive or the youngest curly chicory you can find)
8 anchovy fillets packed in salt, cleaned (can be substituted with regular oil-preserved anchovies in extremis)
3-4 garlic cloves, minced
Red wine vinegar
Extra virgin olive oil
Salt and pepper to taste

Prepare a creamy pesto with minced garlic, anchovies, splash of lvinegar (not too much!) very little salt, pepper and plenty olive oil. Pestle and mortar would be best, but if you use a mezzaluna or a kitchen knife to chop finely you can then mix with a wire whisk. 

Stir and allow the obtained "sauce" to sit for 10 minutes.

Drain the puntarelle, dry with a kitchen towel or spin-dry carefully. Trickle the velvety beige sauce over the chilled and curled puntarelle salad, toss, allow to sit for a few minutes, and––given the garlic content––expect to face reduced social life for the next 3 days.

Image © su-lin

Note: If you're particularly in a rush and decide to use anchovy paste instead of fillets, just cut down on the salt and count on my discretion.

Panzanella recipe

Panzanella is a fantastic (and easy) summer dish made with bread, it's a Tuscan traditional summer dish and is a great example of how Italians make good use of leftovers. I have posted several recipes that employ leftover foods: Frico, Meatballs, Riso al salto and Torta di Pane.

It's hard to catalog this traditional cucina povera preparation. For as much as the main ingredient is bread, it is not a soup, and not a salad either, even if it contains abundant veggies. It is difficult to place panzanella in the 'antipasto-primo-secondo' Italian meal articulation. Here I have classified it as an antipasto; and considering the amount of carbs, it is best paired with meats or fish and not served before a pasta dish or a Tuscan soup, many of which usually employ the use of bread or pasta in their preparations. Here's what you need for your summery panzanella:

10 slices of stale bread, or rusks, the best is pane casareccio*
6 mature heirloom tomatoes, finely chopped
1 small white onion, sliced
1 small red onion, sliced
1 cucumber, sliced
Fresh basil leaves, hand torn into shreds, the more the better
5 tbsp extra virgin olive oil, plus more as the bread absorbs the condiment
1 tbsp white wine vinegar (not balsamic)
Salt and pepper 

If you're not so keen on the onion front, reduce quantities or omit the white onion altogether, granted you at least employ the more delicate red variety.

Soften the bread in water for 10 minutes while you pour some Vernaccia di San Gimignano dry white in a jug and set it in the fridge to chill.

Wring away water from the bread and crumble it coarsely with your hands in a salad bowl. Add sliced onions, chopped tomato, sliced cucumber and basil. Season with salt and freshly ground black pepper, and drizzle with vinegar and abundant olive oil. Toss with your hands and add a little more oil to the mix.

Refrigerate 2-3 hrs before serving along with the jugful of wine.

*Note: The best leftover bread to use for this recipe is the typically Tuscan unsalted kind, but not all ovens carry it, so any healthy, home style whole-wheat kind will do.

Image © cookaround.com

Buon appetito!

Cooking tips - beans

Fagioli––Italian for beans––are the cheapest, most rendering edible leguminous plant found in Italian kitchens. The famous pasta e fagioli soup is a peasant dish, made with leftover bits of pasta and common kidney beans. Very affordable and ginormously tasty.

I'm no fundamentalist when it comes to cooking beans. I use canned beans freely (provided they be well rinsed of their gelatinous storing gunk), but the healthiest, tastiest and most common beans used in Italian cuisine are dried beans. Yes, cooking dried beans takes more time than opening a can, but you’ll be richly rewarded with superior flavor and texture. They will keep almost indefinitely, and a well-stocked Italian pantry always has a selection of two or more kinds of dried beans.

Here are a few of my mother's storing tips:

A) Dried beans should be stored at room temperature in covered containers.
B) Do not keep dried beans in the refrigerator! If stored incorrectly, the beans may absorb water and spoil before you have a chance to use them.
C) The plastic bags beans are packaged in are good for storage if they are airtight. Once opened, the bag can be closed with a twist tie.
D) For the longest storage life, keep beans in a glass or ceramic container with a tight fitting lid.

There is a specific routine when preparing dried beans and other pulse. Here it is:

1. Sort: Arrange dried beans on a sheet pan or wide platter and sort through them to pick out any small rocks, pieces of dirt, beans with holes or cavities, badly misshapen or shriveled ones and those greatly undersized or discolored. Running your fingers through the bag feels great, but is not enough.

2. Rinse: Rinse the sorted beans well in cold, running water. Do this right before soaking, as beans tend to start the rehydration process as soon as they come in contact with liquid.

3. Soak: Soaking beans before cooking shortens cooking time and helps to leech out some of those indigestible sugars that cause, among other things, proverbial bean flatulence. There are two simple ways to get the job done, one involving a longer procedure. Overnight soaking takes time and some advance planning, but needs very little effort.

a) Regular soak: Put beans into a large bowl and cover with 2 to 3 inches of cool, clean water. Set aside at room temperature for 8 hours or overnight; then drain well. (If it's really warm in your kitchen, soak the beans in the refrigerator instead to avoid fermentation, which makes the beans turn sour. Soaking in refrigerator requires a little while longer though, as cold water slows rehydration and the beans will take longer to cook)

b) Quick soak: Put beans into a large pot and cover with 2 to 3 inches of cool, clean water. Bring to a boil and turn briskly for 2 to 3 minutes. Cover and set aside off of the heat for 1 hour; then drain well.

4. Cook: Put soaked beans into a large pot and cover with 2 inches of water or stock. (don't add salt at this point, since that slows the beans softening.) Slowly bring to a boil, skimming off any foam on the surface. Reduce heat, cover and simmer, stirring occasionally and adding more liquid if necessary, until beans are tender when mashed or pierced with a fork. Cooking times vary with the variety, age and size of beans; generally you’ll be looking at about 1 to 2 hours.


Trivia Note: I have to check with Renee about this, but dreaming of beans is sometimes said to be a sign of impending conflict.

Fagioli all'Uccelletto recipe

Beans with a light tomato sauce and fragrant sage leaves: a Tuscan classic side dish. When added with sausage links, it becomes a perfect entrée.

I still haven't found the reason for their name, which translates "beans little bird-style."

Since the temperatures are dropping all over Italy this week, why not cook up some fagioli, watch a sports event on TV and call it an early night?

500 g (1 lb) dried cannellini (white beans), soaked for 3 hours.
50 g (1/4 cup) extra virgin olive oil
2 garlic cloves, minced
7-8 leaves of fresh sage
1-2 fresh plum tomatoes or a small can of tomatoes (I use half of a 14-oz can)
Boiling water
Salt and pepper to taste
8 Italian link sausages (OPTIONAL see below)

If you choose to serve your fagioli all'uccelletto with sausages, you'll want to choose a kind that won't overpower the beans in terms of spice and oomph. For this dish, I always use 2 or 3 per guest of my favorite sausage, luganega.

Begin by boiling the beans until 3/4 done in lightly salted water. This will take about an hour, though you should begin checking them after 30 minutes. You don't want them to go mushy on you. If you are including sausages, prick their skins lightly with a fork and simmer them separately in boiling water to cover for 15 minutes to render out some of the fat.

Once the beans are almost done, set the olive oil to heat over medium heat, in a heavy bottomed clay pot or Dutch oven. When the oil has become hot but not smoking, add the garlic and the sage (not more than seven or eight leaves; too much sage will make the beans bitter). Cook until the sage crackles and the garlic is lightly browned.

Add the tomatoes and cook for a few more minutes, then add the beans and some of their bean broth to cover. Season with salt and pepper, add the sausages, and simmer everything until the beans are quite soft, stirring occasionally and adding bean broth as necessary to keep it all from drying out.

Which wine? I would go with a simple Chianti Classico.

And just in case, I suggest you sleep with the windows open...

Fave e Cicoria recipe

Broad beans have a long tradition of cultivation in Old World agriculture, being among the most ancient plants in cultivation and also among the easiest to grow. It is believed that along with lentils, peas and chickpeas, they became part of the eastern Mediterranean diet in around 6,000 BC or earlier.

The term fava bean (from the Italian fava) is its most common name in the United States, with broad bean being the most common name in the UK.

In ancient Rome, beans were used in voting; a white bean was used to cast a yes vote, and a black bean for no. Some people carry a fava for good luck; some believe that a broad bean, in pocket will assure the essentials of life. In and around Rome, on May 1st, families traditionally eat fresh fava beans with Pecorino Romano cheese during a daily excursion or a picnic.

Cicoria is a very interesting green leafy protagonist of Italian cuisine. This relative of the endive has curly, bitter-tasting leaves that are often used as part of a salad or cooked as greens. In the United States, early endive is sometimes erroneously called chicory. I've heard it associated to dandelion greens. Today's trendy radicchio is in effect a red-leafed cicoria.

The baked and ground roots were used as a coffee substitute during WWII when espresso was a luxury item sold uniquely on the black market. When a particular espresso is of inferior quality, it's often compared to the wartime surrogate coffee beverage.

This recipe is typical of the splendid region of Puglia, features the pairing of bitter cicoria leaves and a delicate fava bean purée.

250 g (1/2 lb) dried and peeled fava beans, soaked overnight
500 g (1.1 lb) bitter greens (like black kale, aka cavolo nero, dandelion, or chicory)
optional, 6 slices crusty peasant bread, 1" thick
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
Extra virgin olive oil

Drain the fava beans and place in a saucepan. Cover with water, cover the pot, and cook over medium-high flame. Skim the foam that rises to the top once the water boils.

Once there is no more foam, add a generous pinch of salt and cook the beans, stirring occasionally, for about 1 hour, or until they have dissolved into the water and have taken the consistency of clotted cream. You may have to add more boiling water to keep beans from scorching.

Using a hand blender beat in 1/4 cup olive oil and adjust the seasoning with salt and pepper, to taste.

While the beans cook, soak the greens in and baking soda, rinse several times in clean water, and then place them in a saucepan over high heat and cook them in the water that clings to their leaves, adding a little more water if necessary to prevent scorching. Once they are very tender, remove from the pot, squeeze out excess water, and dress with the remaining olive oil and salt and pepper, to taste.

Serve the greens and fava puree in soup bowls over a slice of grilled or toasted bread, drizzled with a thread of raw oil.

Buon appetito!

Cardi al Forno - baked cardoon recipe

Cardoons have won numerous 'disdained vegetable' championships. In posh foodie blogs and specialized magazines, the humble cardoon never gets mentioned. I read rhapsodies about the parsnip, odes to the beauty and versatility of the pomegranate, carousels around kale. Hardly ever cardoon tangents.

Ironic how my mother has over the years tried unsuccessfully feeding me gobbi (cardoons) ever since I can remember. Now that I've become a thistle-fetishist, her cocky smile burns like a branding iron on my ample buttocks.

The cardoon looks like a very strange celery stalk, but with longer, dustier and thicker ribs. The cardoon bunches that are available here in Italy are about 24" to 36" long. Cardi have a reputation for being difficult suckers to tackle, but once you figure out how to trim and cook them to tame their bitterness, it’s all good. The cardoon is related to the globe artichoke, and it has a similar flavor, as well as the capacity to turn your hands black, just like when handling raw artichokes.

The first step to properly domesticating cardoons is in how to clean them. This is done by stripping off the strings or filament ribs. It's not too time consuming, start at one end or the other, and give it an energetic zip. Once you get into it, it's kind of fun.

Yes, I get my kicks in strange ways (I like to shuck corn ears, too).

1 bunch of ripe cardoons, individual ribs trimmed
1 bowl of cold water with the juice of 1 lemon
Unsalted butter
Parmigiano, grated (lots)
Freshly milled black pepper

Working quickly, chop the stripped cardoon ribs into 2–inch chunks, and place them in acidulated water, just as you would with an artichoke (acidulated as in, soured by the acidity of lemon juice or vinegar, I love how you sound so haute cuisine-educated when you say acidulated).

Drop the cardoon chunks into boiling salted water until the pieces are soft. Now, in Italy, that takes about 10-15 minutes; I have friends in California who say that this takes them 45 minutes. Apparently there are quite a few different cultivars of thistle cardoons; what we get here is white or silvery, curved and not too fibrous.

When they are soft, drain the cardoons. Add little specks of butter, season with freshly ground black pepper and sprinkle with generous amounts of grated Parmigiano. Bake your cardi in the oven on a greased oven pan for a few minutes to melt the cheese and form a delish, golden crust.

Cardoons deserve more popularity. Just think how many ways in which you can prepare them besides the typical above-mentioned Umbrian recipe. 

You can: a) dip them in batter and fry them; 

b) further roast the fried chunks with slabs of Fontina, the cheese melts into the batter and scoffing them is a gooey, delicious mess;

c) add them to soups; 

d) make risotto; 

e) dip them in bagna càuda; 

just let your imagination run cardoon-wild.

Trivia Note: Cardonnacum, derived from carduus, is Latin for a place thick with thistles. This is believed to be the origin for the name of the Burgundy village of Chardonnay Saône-et-Loire, which in turn is thought to be the home of the famous grape variety.

So please, next autumn, when you go to your farmer's market, stubbornly ask for cardoons and pray for a comeback.

Friggione recipe

Scarpetta, literally means "little shoe," God knows why. Scarpetta is the word for the act upon which a small piece of hand held bread mops up any delicious food residue in a plate and is devoured. 

Essential. Frowned upon in etiquette manuals. Not the thing to perform at a formal seated dinner. I don't usually care for that sort of table manners, so I do it all the time, regardless of dress code. That is if whatever is left in my plate is worth it and the bread is soft enough.

I'm a huge fan of scarpetta, so my dishes are usually a bit overdressed, in order to enjoy a conclusive good sweep. Be they pasta dishes, fish or meat. I usually clean the plate with the bread so carefully that I have been often called names. Or fed more food thinking my plate had been empty to begin with.

Preeminent scarpetta applies to those dishes that require large amounts of sauce, like for example a slippery plate of Bucatini all'Amatriciana, or homemade tagliatelle al ragù or a very juicy roast. Once you've eaten the food, whatever's left in the plate, is scarpetta material. Otherwise, scarpetta can be performed with those dishes whose sole purpose is being sopped by a spongy chunk of warm bread. Friggione falls into this second category.

Friggione is a tomato and onion sauce typical of Bologna, the epicurean city also known as la dotta (the learned) and la grassa (the fat).

This sauce is exclusively intended for dipping bread as a fully authorised scarpetta antipasto. Rich and absurdly tasty, friggione takes forever to make, and employs politically incorrect amounts of onion.

The time-consuming recipe to exquisite friggione, dating back to 1886, is made with the following ingredients:

1 kg (2.2 lbs) white onions, thinly sliced
500 g (1.1 lb) ripe tomatoes, peeled, seeded and finely chopped (or a 28-oz can of preserved tomatoes)
1 tbsp tomato paste
1 tbsp sugar
1 tbsp kosher salt
4 tbsp extra virgin olive oil

Thinly slice the onion (for best results, use a mandoline) and leave it to macerate with the salt and sugar in a large bowl.

Pour the onion – and the resulting maceration juice – in preferably a terracotta stewpot (not iron, non-stick, copper or enamelled) with the oil, and over a gentle heat, cook it slowly stirring with a wooden spoon.

Keep cooking at a very low simmer until the onions wilt, making sure they don’t stick to the bottom of the pot. Add a little broth or hot water should the onions dry. This could take a while.

At this point, add the chopped tomatoes over very low heat, stirring for 2 hours. Yes, maybe even 2 and a half.

No, I'm not kidding.

Adjust seasoning and keep moist with water (or a little vegetable broth) if necessary.

When your patience has completely run out and the onion and tomatoes will have become a lovely geranium-colored purée, the friggione will be ready. And it will have been worth the wait, believe me.

Buon appetito!

Roman style spinach with raisins recipe

My mother's pièce de resistance side dish. When there's unplanned dinner guests, she whips up easy spaghetti aglio, olio e peperoncino, uncorks a good bottle of wine and distracts them with these sweet and piquant Roman-style spinach, while she frantically fixes the entree.

This was also her only way to make me eat greens when I was a child. Sweet raisins and savory, garlic-flavored sautéed spinach are an unusual match. Some like to add pine nuts too. Try it and see.

500 g (1.1 lb) small spinach leaves
1 glass of water
50 g (1/4 cup) butter
2 tbsp raisins
2 garlic cloves, peeled
1 spicy peperoncino or 1/2 tsp flakes (optional)
A pinch of lightly toasted pine nuts
Extra virgin olive oil
Salt to taste

Soak raisins in lukewarm water. Perform usual anti-pesticide ritual for the fresh spinach with water and baking soda, rinse and towel dry. Steam or boil briefly in unsalted water. If pressed for time and guest are already ringing doorbell, tear open the plastic bag of store-bought frozen spinach and toss directly in the skillet.

Melt butter and a swirl of olive oil in a skillet and sauté the garlic (and optional peperoncino flakes) in it. Add spinach and strained raisins, blending flavors for a few minutes. Salt to taste and ingurgitate.

Pasquetta savory torta recipe

Image © swide.com

Pasquetta is the Monday after Easter. It literally means little Easter and on this day of meditation and rest, city folk usually gather for a scampagnata, that is a country outing (from campagna, Italian for 'country') or a gita fuori porta, which translates to 'a tour out of the doors of the city. 'The English term outdoors must find its roots in this typically Roman expression.

Pasquetta offers release from the somber religious rituals of the preceding Lent period and the solemn Holy Week events. It is a day dedicated to leisure and recreation, slow travel and comfort food.

Natale con i tuoi, Pasqua con chi vuoi is the Italian adage: "Christmas with family, Easter with whomever you choose," and on Little Easter, the implied appendix for those sequestered in the bedlam of larger cities is "seize that 'whomever' and get out of town." Be the occasion a romantic escape to a secluded tavern by a lakeside, a family pic nic in the meadow or a roaring group at a trattoria on a breezy hilltop, the entire point of Pasquetta is to allow people to eat themselves into a stupor.

In some places, there is more to Pasquetta than just eating. The Ruzzolone race in Panicale, for instance, is a sporting competition that combines elements of bocce, yo-yo and curling. Yes, it’s as crazy as it sounds. The players send a 9-pound round of Pecorino cheese rolling around the perimeter of the ancient walled town. The cheese is launched with a leather strap, wrapped around the cheese and pulled by a wooden stick. Spotters run alongside the cheese to mark where it falls. The winner, the player who completes the racecourse in the fewest hits, gets to bring home the Pecorino.

Often the prizes go careening into nearby olive groves or get stuck under the one Fiat that didn't get the "No Parking Here Today" handwritten message. When the race is concluded, the winners are acclaimed by the free wine and hard-boiled eggs being served by the village Pro Loco committee and a band of villagers playing pots, pans, cowbells, horns, ladles and spoons worthy of a scene in a Fellini movie.

My Pasquetta was a quiet drive back home with a slumbering E. Our mini vacation down south is over, it's time to resume normality. As the Abruzzo reconstruction begins, we humbly go about our daily chores with a fresh start. Tomorrow it's back to school day, so I need to get dinner ready and a little homesick boy to bed early.

Tonight I'm making a simple holiday dish, made with healthy greens and very little work involved in the preparation. I want to share it with you, officially reopening our recipe dialogue.

Torta Pasqualina recipe

This is an Easter season classic, a rustic, simple and quick fix staple. Any of it left over is great for sylvan picnics on Pasquetta. Best served cold with mixed salumi, frittata and lavish amounts of cheese for a true Pasquetta binge. Ingredients for 6 sinners:

1 frozen double puff pastry shell
1kg (2 lbs) collards, kale, spinach or mild greens
600 g (3 cups) goat ricotta cheese
100 g (1/2 cup) unsalted butter
10 eggs
Extra virgin olive oil
Fresh marjoram
3 slices of white bread, crusts removed
250 ml (1 cup) whole milk
2 tbsp Parmigiano, grated
Salt and pepper to taste

Take the frozen puff pastry out of the freezer to thaw. Carefully trim and clean the greens in cold water and baking soda, rinsing repeatedly to remove all traces of dirt, pesticides and other chemicals. While you soak the white bread in the milk, boil the washed greens in 1 cup of unsalted water for 10 minutes, then wring dry. Unroll one of the crust layers in a 9” buttered pie shell, trimming any extra dough from the edges. Return it to the refrigerator while you prepare the filling.

Spread the blanched greens on a plate and sprinkle with salt, Parmigiano and a few fresh marjoram leaves. Beat 4 eggs and 3 tbsp of Parmigiano in a large mixing bowl. Wring the white bread and add it to the eggs, along with the seasoned greens and the fork-sifted ricotta. Blend lovingly with a wooden spoon as each ingredient is added. Take your time and enjoy the repetitive sensual motion as the elements blend together.

Pour the mixture into the pastry-lined pie plate and dig 6 evenly spaced-out dimples. In each depression pour 1 tbsp of melted butter, then carefully break an egg in it.

Unroll the second disk of dough and cover. Use a fork or your fingers to pinch the edges together. Dot with tiny flakes of butter and cut 4 small slits in the top, being careful to avoid the areas occupied by the eggs. Bake 40 to 50 minutes or until the crust is lightly browned.

Hint: you can cover the pie edge with a 3-inch strip of aluminum foil to prevent too much browning. Remove foil during last 15 minutes of baking.

Buona Pasquetta!