Pomodori al Tonno recipe

I'm a hard worker, but not in summer. In summer I'm lazy.

Even in the kitchen.

Plus it's hot, and working by the stove–or even worse, the oven–in this weather, is torture.

Like today, for example. I wasn't feeling too good, I had no appetite (a bad sign for me), and I didn't have the desire to even swim once. What I did do was take a nice walk in the property's orto (vegetable garden) with a large basket, and returned home with inspiration.

And lunch.

The good thing about spending time in the country is that you don't have to bother going grocery shopping. The produce is all home-grown, and every family has a ridiculously well-stocked pantry. Olive oil, wine, jams and preserves, canned vegetables, honey, bottled sauces, eggs, sausages, herbs, bread... everything is sourced or made right here, on the premises.

When I rinsed the field dust off these tomatoes, they were still warm from the sun.

I whipped this dish up in 10 minutes, and it managed to restore a smile on my face.

And a grumble to my tummy.

6 small Vesuvio tomatoes, halved
200 g (1 cup) oil-packed tuna, drained and flaked
2 ribs of baby white celery, diced
3-4 tablespoons of light mayonnaise
Pinch of salt

Scoop out the pulp from the tomatoes, removing seeds and watery parts, and set aside.

Chop the tomato pulp, toss in a mixing bowl with remaining ingredients, and stir to mix well.

Divide the mixture and scoop it into the halved tomatoes. Refrigerate 30 minutes before serving.

Uncork the chilled Sauvignon and put your feet up, it's summer and you deserve a break after all this hard work.


Buon appetito.

Villa Rucellai

This is where I'm staying. A beautiful agriturismo farm called Villa Rucellai in the hills between Pistoia and Prato.

WiFi and willpower are spotty, so I check email and post erratically. Right now I'm writing this as I enjoy a glass of Franciacorta in the garden.

The orange and wine braised wild pigeons are simmering on the stove, and the mosquitoes are coming, so I better go inside and get out of this wet bathing suit.




Ciao,
E.

Golden slumbers

I'm lying under the cherry tree, damp grass between my toes.

Dappled sunlight through the branches, I breathe in the sweet aroma of afternoon green.

A small powder-blue butterfly dances with a dandelion.

I lie still, careful not to scare her away. I close my eyes. 

Distant children's cackle, I recognize my son's among other joyful voices. The train down in the valley whistles––then suddenly mutes––as if swallowed by a tunnel.

Someone is burning dry leaves somewhere.

Or am I already dreaming?

We are in Tuscany on vacation. And lazy afternoons like these are the norm.

I feel a little bit guilty: markets are dropping, cities are rioting, politicians are at each others' throats, and I'm here, dozing under a peaceful cherry tree, fully relaxed. And happy.

Abruzzo for the weekend

Santa Maria della Pietà, 17th century church, half way up the hike to Rocca Calascio

My dad, stepmother and friends came to visit us last week, and we were very excited to have them over. Without much planning, we decided to go to Abruzzo for the weekend. Here are just a few images of those two magical days.

the Rocca Calascio fortress

panorama from Rocca Calascio, 1460 m elevation (Castel del Monte in the distance) 

View from my room ~ Sextantio Albergo Diffuso

our room is called "Camera sul campanile" – room overlooking the belfry 

Sunset at Santo Stefano di Sessanio

After dinner the restaurant serves homemade digestive bitters

Smiles. Plenty of them.

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.

Selena's "rosbif" recipe

I’ve known Selena since my first clumsy approach towards country-life in my early teens, many many years ago. It seemed an impossible task back then. Forcing a family summer vacation in campagna on a 14-year old whose only desire was to dance on the beach, flirt and watch TV. But I must say, I tackled it phenomenally.

Every summer, Selena and I grew closer and became good friends. Each time I’d visit her splendid country estate, I learned some new kitchen trick, surrendered peacefully to the supremacy of bees and babysat her kids. She taught me to appreciate the rural life and helped fuel my love for the simple joys of cooking.

She was with me during the very last days of single mama-to-be pregnancy, when I needed the fresh, hands-on advice of a fellow mother and the warmth of a friendly embrace. I was in full gestational nesting compulsion, and she encouraged my impetus by helping me clean out an entire wall-to-wall bookshelf, rearranging all the volumes I own, and classifying them thanks to her skillful archivist expertise.

Selena competes with my mother for the 'best cook I know' title. She delights friends and family with her spectacular cooking and engages in crazy food tournaments with my mother when we all visit together. Copious drinking, gargantuan meals–and consequent weight gaining–take place during these festive occasions.

After swimming or roaring ping pong matches, forest walks, lazy chit chat while crafting lavender sachets, or picking fruit off the trees in the orchard, I like to sit under her cherry tree, smiling in the sunset. I sip last year’s vintage Sangiovese, and sniff the aromas wafting out from the nearby kitchen. Bliss.

Here is the recipe for what she fed us 20 guests during last year's grape harvest special. With prior permission to pass it on, Selena's rosbif––as is pronounced here––a sensational (pot)roast beef.

1 kg (2 lbs) lean beef sirloin tip roast, trimmed and tied
2 garlic cloves, unpeeled
1 fat sprig of rosemary
3/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
Salt and pepper

Butcher's twine

The trick is in the lacing, she says. Start tying the roast salami-style. This is quite easy, just tie one of the ends with a piece of kitchen string and do not cut it. Then pull the string about 5 cm (2”) from where you made your first loop and circle again around the roast.

Pass the string inside the loop and pull (see picture). You'll need to use all three pairs of hands for this. Although my mother (she's the hand model in these photos) does it without thinking.

Scrub the beef with salt and pepper and place in a high-rimmed Dutch oven type broiler with the oil, unpeeled garlic cloves and the rosemary. I slide the herb sprig directly under the lacing so that it is in close contact with the meat. I do NOT however cut small slits to lodge the garlic in the beef. Too surgical. And useless, since this particular cooking method assures plenty flavoring without cutting gashes into the flesh.

Note: Be sure that whichever pot you choose as a cooking vessel, is complete with a tight fitting lid.

Turn on the heat on very high mark, and as the oil begins to heat up, sear the meat with the lid covered for 5 minutes. Uncover, turn the roast on the other side and cover again. Sear for an additional 5 minutes on the b-side, then lower the heat to medium intensity and cook covered for 20 more minutes. It is important that you do not take the lid off the cooking pot during this time. Ever!

Serve your roast beef immediately, carving generous slices against the grain, lavishly drizzled with the cooking drippings. Best if eaten along side a fresh garden salad or fluffy mashed potatoes and stewed peas.

Note: for roast cuts of different weight, calculate 3 minutes for each 100 gr (3 1/2 oz) total cooking time. For my kilo (1,000 g) of roast I counted a total of 30 minutes, searing one side for 5 minutes, the flip side for 5 minutes and then roasting for final 20 minutes (5+5+20=30). Provided no cool air enters the pot, the result is an evenly browned, sizzling outside and a lovely rare crimson heart.

Visiting Selena and her storybook family in her splendid Tuscan Renaissance Villa in the hills overlooking Prato is my idea of the perfect vacation. I usually plan it out so that I can also squeeze in hosting a few cooking classes and offer Culinary Adventures in the area.

My train whistles at 8:40 tomorrow morning. For the next 3 weeks, this is where you can find me...

Villa Rucellai ~ Canneto (PO)

Rosticciana, tomato salad, bruschetta...

Arrivederci!

Happy Birthday, Dad!

DISCLAIMER | This post has nothing to do with food or Italian lifestyle, so it doesn't fit Aglio, Olio & Peperoncino proper. If a mouthwatering recipe or a traditional Roman custom is what you came for, be prepared to find out about something completely different. Today I want to talk about a place I found out about a few days ago. And tell my dad about it.

My dad is a golfer. Ever since I can remember, he has loved the sport. He not only plays once a week, lives in the Monterey Bay–which is golfers' heaven–but he goes as far as enjoying golf on TV (which to me is a mystery, why do the announcers whisper as someone is taking a putt or a drive, when they are actually secluded in a media box somewhere far, far away from the golfer?). One of my father's earliest parent-proudness moments came when aged 10, I hit a Par 2 Birdie in a children's tournament in L.A.

So since today is his birthday–and this post is about a mind-blowing golf course in South Africa, which I am sure he'll appreciate learning about–I want to share it here and dedicate it to him.

I've noticed that over the years, golf has conquered some pretty treacherous terrain, from the sheer cliffs of Scotland, to the portable slabs of grass from hole to hole in an Australian desert town, to the moving ice floes on an island in Northern Greenland—but I may have found the most gobsmacking setting of them all.

Here's a hint: your golf cart is a helicopter...

Introducing the world's steepest Par 3 golf hole: The Extreme 19th at Legend Golf & Safari Resort in South Africa, teeing off now from Hanglip Mountain.

Think of it as a piece of Pebble Beach dropped onto the African plains and then perched on the edge of a skyscraper-sized cliff. To get to the tee box, golfers take a six-seat chopper to a peak roughly the height of the Empire State Building. That puts the ground-level green more than 1,200 feet away and adds a much needed dose of danger to the game—if you slice, you may have to tussle with a rhino to get your ball back.


When you get down to the green (again via the chopper), you'll notice it looks familiar: it's a map of Africa, outfitted with the Continent's exact peaks and valleys, which raises the possibility of banking a putt off Kilimanjaro—or leaving a divot where the Sphinx quietly guards the pyramids.

After you've finished off the full course, you'll have a whole wildlife preserve at your disposal, not to mention a luxury resort complete with lakeside cottages, villas on stilts, spa, photo safari jaunts and a fire-walking workshop that will take you tiptoeing over real live 200-degree coals (still less painful than hitting a bunker).

And finally here's the video that made me want to pack my 9-iron and leave today. Look at what it feels like to tee off the 19th hole at Legends.

I hope all my other readers won't mind this small digression from the usual pots and pans.

I'm having fantasies of us playing this course together soon.

Happy birthday, Dad.

♥E.


The Extreme 19th at Legend Golf & Safari Resort
Entabeni Safari Conservancy, Mookgophong, Waterberg Region
Lompopo, South Africa
+27 (0) 11 729 6700
for more Extreme 19th information click HERE

Summer escape - Villa Rucellai in Tuscany

We escaped. It was too hot and lonely in Rome.
I packed a light tote for Mr.E and myself, and we made for the country. As in Tuscany, where "pastoral" is as pretty as it gets.

Right now, as I finish posting this, friends are setting the table for dinner. The barbecue is on...


Rebecca is toasting bread for bruschetta (pronounced with a K)

The menu this evening will be: rosticciana - which is a lovely Tuscan word for 'pork spare ribs' - herb-rubbed chicken skewers, garden salad and homemade gelato.


I can't get enough of these scallions and vine-ripened tomatoes picked warm this morning in the vegetable garden.

So I halved and scooped-out some Roma tomatoes, and stuffed them with a little crushed tuna; the chopped pulp; and some diced celery, which I tossed with mayonnaise, before divvying up the mixture back in the tomato halves for our antipasto.

The air smells like burning firewood.
The swallows dance vast circles above our heads, and our swimming costumes are still dripping pool water, over there on the west-facing hedge.

Mr.E is in seventh heaven. He spends most of his time playing in the garden, digging up dirt, or climbing trees and plucking the juicy pears.


Look at that sunset...



...and the olive trees beneath the forest...

And what about this view of the main entrance?
Isn't it lovely?


Ducks paddling in their little spa pond...

...Geraniums sheltered by the shade of a cherry tree...

...and beauty as far as the eye can see...

Speaking of tomatoes, tomorrow my friends Selena, Rebecca, Lorenzo, with Mr.E and I (and the supervision of my mother) will begin the summer's production by cooking the first 5 gallons of Pommarola tomato preserves.
The following day, it will be fig marmalade. Depending on the yield, perhaps plum jam too.

Aperitivo is ready, I'm being summoned outside.
I have to go now...



...and I need to slip on a jumper, because it's getting chilly...