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.

Avanzi, Italy's glorious leftovers

You know me. I'm the one fixated with not throwing away food. I so firmly believe in recycling leftovers that I purposely cook in larger quantities than needed in order to have uneaten food to work with later.

After a sad few days of the BRAT diet (bananas, rice, apple, toast)––my son and I caught the stomach bug of 2016 late––I needed something to revive my depressed taste buds.

So for dinner yesterday I "made" two sensational Southern Italian dishes with avanzi. Made is actually too bold of a term, let's say I transformed leftover spaghetti into Neapolitan frittata di maccheroni and day-old green beans into Sicilian fagiolini alla muddica.

A week ago I made enough Puttanesca for 10 (there were 7 guests, 3 of which kids) so naturally I had a bowl of it sitting in the back of the fridge. The sauce made with this summer's pommarola, brined olives and minuscule capers from Pantelleria stuck to the noodles and was still fragrant. I didn't have to think twice: frittata di maccheroni. Every Neapolitan homemaker has this recipe in their repertoire.

I loosened the spaghetti from their bowl-shape and mixed in 4 beaten eggs.
I transferred the slippery mix to a heavy-bottomed pan with just a drizzle of olive oil and gently heated for about 5 minutes, until a delicious crust started forming on the bottom. My mother's trick is beating one more egg with salt and pepper and pouring it on the surface. This helps set the frittata.
I covered the pan for another 2 minutes, checking that the bottom didn't darken too much: browned frittata is dry and disgusting.
At this point of cooking frittata you have to be resourceful for the flipping portion of the recipe.
I use a lipless lid and good balancing skills to slide the uncooked side back into the pan.
On the whole, another plus is that this dish takes about 10-12 minutes to make. So while wisely thrifty, you're also budgeting time.

But my recycled carbs with high-protein needed a vegetal side. I glanced at the handful of yesterday's steamed green beans sitting suffocated under a plastic wrap cover. I reached in for the bowl and let the contents warm to room temperature on the countertop while I made the seasoned breadcrumbs.

I have a small fabric pouch where all my bread corners, broken breadsticks and uneaten slices fall into. This is what's known around the house as the Pangrattato Pouch. All the hardened bits of sourdough in there become breadcrumbs. I transfer the amount needed in a sturdy airtight plastic bag and arm myself with a rolling pin. I seal the bag and bash the hunks of bread to the desired powder grain. I prefer coarse. To the ziploc I then add powdered herbs, seasoned salt and a fistful of polenta (cornmeal) for crunch.

I toasted the breadcrumbs with olive oil and 2 cloves of garlic. A salt-saving, flavor-boosting trick is adding 2-3 oil-packed anchovies and working them into the crumbs with the tines of a fork. When the breadcrumbs clumped together to a crispy crumble, I added the green beans, tossing to coat and heat through. I didn't need to adjust seasoning, so I served immediately.

A tavola!

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 ➔

Grilled polenta with 4 formaggi cheese fondue

My fridge is exploding. It has always seen its fair share of dairy, but never this much.

The result of shooting a show entirely dedicated to cheese comes with many obvious perks, one of which is taking home chunks and slices of the set after filming.

At every caseificio (dairy farm) the crew and I visited – be it to portray the production method, meet the producers, or milk the livestock – there was always a tasting here, a random gift of the local specailty there, and often a purchase of the product featured in each location. Hence the fridge explosion. I am loaded with cheese. There's formaggio everywhere, and more apparently coming in the mail...

What to do with all this bounty (aside from eating it and thus increasing my cholesterol)? After giving away loads of it to friends, gifting it to neighbors and showing off la bella figura at parties and festive gatherings, I need to start using the funky stuff and make room in the icebox. Employing the cheese in dishes is always a good way to start.

My favorite are the fridge-cleaner recipes, the ones that wipe out most of the leftovers in one fell swoop.

A few days ago, with the bitter chill of winter finally scratching at our windows, and fierce winds blowing, I made polenta. I see a pattern forming: my mother makes polenta at the first sign of cold, I see myself now doing the same. Of course, like her, I make it monumental amounts, despite our immediate family of two.

With the leftover polenta and the abundance of cheese I made crostini and popped a nice bottle of Franciacorta. Cleaning out the fridge deserves some celebration, no?

Leftover polenta, about 400 g (14 oz)

100 g (1/2 cup) gorgonzola, sliced

100 g (1/2 cup) fontina, diced

50 g (1/4 cup) Parmigiano, grated

3 tbsp mascarpone

1 glass heavy cream or milk

1 small bunch of chives, minced

2-3 firm Kaiser pears, cored, peeled and quartered – slice to obtain a piece for each piece of polenta

Start by slicing the polenta (it solidifies fast, so I store the leftovers in a cubic container, in order to make it easier to cut it in regularly shaped slices). I like my slices thick, about 3/4-inch. You can of course change this measurement, but anything thinner than that could potentially come apart when heated and topped. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Heat a griddle or a ribbed steak pan until scorching hot. Brush or spray with olive oil. Grill the polenta slices until seared with dark grill marks on each side, and set aside. Preheat oven to 180°C/350°F.

In a saucepan, melt the cheeses with the cream (or milk) over low heat. Stir gently to obtain a firm, lumpy mixture. The texture should not be runny or liquid.

Let the mixture cool a few minutes, then incorporate the minced chives stirring to blend well.

Place the grilled polenta on a baking sheet lined with parchment paper. Spoon a dollop of the mixture on each slice of polenta and top with a piece of pear.

Pop in the hot oven for 10 minutes or until the cheese begins to bubble. Serve immediately.

Buon appetito!

Recipe for "Focaccia Pugliese"

There are some dishes that improve overnight.

Focaccia Pugliese – a summer spongy, feather light and tasty baked specialty from the region of Puglia (Apulia) in southern Italy – is one of such dishes. Baked fresh, this particular focaccia is fantastic, but the day after... it's even better!

Round, fluffy with it's typically crisp edges and caramelized topping, Focaccia Pugliese (also known as "ruota di focaccia barese") is quintessential street food and the perfect picnic item. When I make it for my son, we always try to leave some for the next day and pack the leftovers in the beach bag for post-swimming munchies.

Focaccia Pugliese's secret is in the dough, which includes boiled potatoes. This gives it a unique soft, springy texture and a beautiful aroma.

Ingredients:
500 g (2 cups) 00-type flour
2 large potatoes, boiled and peeled
25 g (<1 oz) brewer's yeast
1 tsp sea salt, plus more to taste
250 ml (1 cup) lukewarm water
10 cherry tomatoes, halved
10 black olives, pitted
1 tbsp dried oregano
Extra virgin olive oil

Method:
Let the boiled potatoes cool before peeling, and set them aside.
Place flour in a large mixing bowl, and using a ricer, add the potatoes.

Dissolve brewer's yeast in the lukewarm water and add that to the mix as well. Fold in a small pinch of sea salt and begin kneading to obtain a sticky, firm ball.
Wrap in cling film and leave the dough to rise for 2 hours in a warm, dry place.

Preheat your ventilated oven at 240° C (428° F), or set it at 260° C (500° F) if static.
Use olive oil to generously grease a large round baking dish (9 or 11-inch) and stretch the dough to fill it evenly.

Press the halved tomatoes in the dough, cut side down, add the olives, a good dusting of oregano and lashings of sea salt.
Drizzle the surface with more olive oil and bake in the hot oven for 20-30 minutes, or until the surface appears evenly browned and tomatoes are caramelized.

Buon appetito.

Pasta al Forno

My dad loves Italian food. Living in Italy, and being married for 12 years to my Italian mother I think had something to do with it.

Nowadays, as much as he and his wife Terry enjoy the Bel Paese's fares, and fine cuisine in general, they are lazy cooks and find it easier to eat out in their area's restaurants, rather than staying in for a homemade meal. Lately, however, they were introduced to Blue Apron, and things have changed.

 What I am thankful for is that the popular company has re-fueled my dad's and his wife's passion for cooking new dishes with seasonal ingredients, at home.

I can just see them bickering over the stovetop. Priceless.

Today my little boy is home from school with the flu, and I wish I could rely upon a similar service to have dinner delivered to my door. Just as that thought crosses my mind, my mom phones me to say she's having her portiere (doorman) drop off some leftovers for us. Knowing how I'm juggling work, unfolded laundry and house cleaning, with a moaning, juice-demanding, DVD-hypnotized, temperature-spiking little person in the other room, my mamma comes through with her own crafted delivery service. God bless her.

What she sent was a favorite comfort food of mine: pasta al forno. Baked pasta dishes are creamy, savory, warm, velvety embraces, and a key childhood sensory reminder. As an excellent fridge-cleaner, pasta al forno also can employ vegetables and salumi on the verge of their expiry, assorted bits of cheese, eggs, mushrooms, and anything you may like thrown in for good measure.

There are a gazillion pasta al forno recipes out there (including the evergreen mac 'n' cheese) but nothing beats my family's classic, made with simple béchamel and Fontina cheese, which is an Alpine cow's milk cheese typical of the Valle d'Aosta region, and which melts beautifully.

Ingredients for 6 servings
50 g (1/4 cup or half stick) butter + more for coating and garnish
2 fistfuls toasted breadcrumbs
50 g (1/4 cup or 6 tbsp) all-purpose flour
500 ml (2 cups) chicken, beef or vegetable broth, boiling
150 g (5 oz) Fontina cheese, grated
Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
500 grams ribbed, ruffled or spiral pasta (any shape able to "grab" the sauce)
2 slices of ham, finely chopped (optional)
2 fistfuls Parmigiano Reggiano, grated

Preheat oven to 230°C (450°F). Grease a large baking dish and coat it in toasted breadcrumbs.

Start by making your béchamel: melt half a stick of butter on medium-high. Once melted but not bubbling, add the flour, and cook, whisking frequently, 30 seconds to 1 minute, or until toasted and fragrant. Slowly whisk in the broth and cook, stirring frequently, 2 to 4 minutes, or until thickened (the hotter the liquid – some prefer to use milk instead of broth in béchamel – the creamier the outcome). Add the grated Fontina cheese, stir until melted and fully combined.
Season with salt and pepper to taste, and remove from the stove.

Bring a large pot of lightly salted water to a rolling boil. Drop in the pasta and cook it for half the time it says on the box. Reserve 1 cup of the pasta cooking water and drain the pasta, adding it to the pot of Fontina béchamel sauce. Stir in the chopped ham and mix until thoroughly combined, adding some saved pasta cooking water, if necessary. The blend should be creamy, not runny.

Transfer the mixture to the greased baking dish, evening out the surface.
Dust with plenty grated Parmigiano Reggiano and dot with a few flecks of butter.

Bake in the oven 5 to 7 minutes, or until a golden crust forms. Remove from the oven, and let stand for at least 2 minutes before diving in. Any leftover pasta al forno can be reheated in the oven for a few minutes and dusted with more Parmigiano, if need be.

I added a few almond slivers to the leftovers mamma had delivered, and saw a huge smile creep on my little boy's face.

Buon appetito!

Image 2 courtesy of salepepe.it

Winter Vegetarian Meatballs

Some time ago I published a recipe for Eggplant Vegetarian Meatballs. Their meaty flavor and wonderful texture lent the vegetarian preparation a wonderful structure and complex taste. In the northern hemisphere however, eggplant only grows naturally in summer, so I decided to make a winter version of this recipe, using broccoli as the base.

image © vegetariantimes

Powerfully rich in antioxidants, minerals and other cancer-fighting nutrients, broccoli were also appreciated in ancient times. Greeks and Romans ate raw cruciferous vegetables before banquets and orgies to help the body tolerate alcohol. Broccoli have since then become hugely popular thanks to their scientifically proven health benefits.

Perhaps the only negative associated with broccoli is the foul sulphur smell released during cooking. But if you know a little chemistry –– or listen to your Nonna's advice –– there's a trick to avoid that vile smell.

Want to know what it is? Learn how to make winter meatballs with broccoli first.

500 g (1 lb) broccoli
4 medium potatoes, peeled
Salt and freshly cracked black pepper
A pinch of ground nutmeg
1 egg
50 g (1/4 cup) Parmigiano, grated
3 tbsp breadcrumbs + more for dredging
2 tbsp toasted sesame seeds, or other seeds (I use a mixture of chia, poppy and black sesame)
Extra virgin olive oil

I cook my broccoli vegetarian meatballs in the oven, but you can opt to fry them in a pan. In that case, add 3 tbsp of peanut oil to your ingredient list.

Trim the broccoli without discarding the leaves, they are highly nutritious and tasty.
Steam the broccoli and potatoes until fork soft and allow to cool briefly. To avoid the nasty smell of cooked broccoli, all you have to do is add the juice of 1 lemon to the steamer!

Preheat oven at 180°C (350° F) –– if you'll not be frying.

In a mixing bowl and using the tines of a fork, smash the broccoli and potatoes, combining them. Add the egg, the cheese and 3 tbsp of breadcrumbs.

Shape balls the size you want using your wet hands and flatten them out slightly.

Dust the surface of a flat dish or tray with breadcrumbs and your assortment of seeds, and dredge the vegetarian meatballs.

If you'll be frying, use a cast iron skillet and fry the vegetarian meatballs in batches; otherwise line a baking dish with parchment paper drizzled with a thread of olive oil and bake the vegetarian meatballs for about 15-20 minutes, or until lightly browned.

Serve with a crisp salad; mashed broad beans and artichokes; or a simple tomato dipping sauce. The red wine should flow in abundance.

Back to School Meals: End of Summer Vegetable Flan

It happened.

My eight year old gourmand child, whom I've raised to appreciate chicken liver crostini and puttanesca, spaghetti with clams and octopus salad – while still ignoring Happy Meals – has freed himself of my apron strings.

Yesterday, faced with yet another bowl of zucchini noodles with basil pesto and a serving of eggplant al funghetto – sautéed with tomato sauce and garlic – he said no. His sophisticated palate is evolving and so is his personality. Normal. But I didn't see it coming.

I had been noticing some recent changes: making his own bold decisions when picking outfits, and becoming more and more prudish and reserved during shower time. OK, these are clear symptoms of growth, independence, character. But shunning my tapenade? Doesn't that happen later?

It's hard to please growing kids at the dinner table, even the more cosmopolitan food snobs. We Italians have an advantage in that sense, because we wean our children off mother's milk with strained vegetable consommé, pureed carrots and potatoes, and the first solid protein we feed them is steamed sole fish drizzled with olive oil. Junk food, sodas and fried fish sticks come into the equation way later, and certainly not in grade school.

I can never forget the handshake I got some years ago from the executive chef at the Monterey Aquarium's own Portola Cafe for ignoring the kids menu and ordering instead salmon fillet, broiled asparagus and abalone on the shell for my toddler. "We're Italian," I replied. "This is how we feed our kids back home."

There are picky eaters and kids who will by default not ingest anything green. I guess I've been lucky because my child was never scared of tasting and experimenting with new flavors. His play date Giulia, one year his junior, still can't fathom eating un-peeled tomatoes and grapes. She may shadow my son and ask to be served some of his minestrone, but will inevitably leave it in the bowl, untouched. My boy instead proudly showing off his alimentary prowess could gorge on all the available langoustines on the Disneyland Paris buffet spread, and wipe his cuttlefish ink risotto plate clean.

But, apparently those days are over.

Zucchini, eggplant, broccoli, Brussell sprouts and all kinds of salad are now officially off the list.
There is a strange aversion to mozzarella, but an ongoing flirtatious relationship with burrata.
He's asked me to please stop serving him hummus.
Or cauliflowers.
And he said I can avoid the trouble of putting dandelion greens in his plate.

So now I'm screwed, because I still want him to eat healthy, local and seasonal food, but his narrowing diet and broadening aversions are making dinner choices slimmer. Soon he'll be asking for a Big Mac, so I have to start finding new and interesting ways to push embargoed food back on his plate.

One of these solutions I found on an Italian website, it's perfect for this end of summer, back to school climate and it employs vegetables and cheese, therefore constituting a balanced but complete vegetarian meal. In my version I used what I had in the house, that is bell peppers, zucchini, potatoes and two kinds of cheese, but these vegetable flans can be made with virtually every vegetal of your choice.

Ingredients
5 medium potatoes
6 zucchini, finely chopped
1 large red bell pepper, finely chopped
1 tbsp triple tomato concentrate
1 egg
100 g (1/2 cup) scamorza, provola or any kind of soft smoked cheese, cubed (same size as vegetable mince)
60 g (+1/4 cup) Parmigiano cheese, grated
Sea salt and cracked black pepper
1/2 tsp grated nutmeg
Butter for greasing the ramekins
3 tbsp breadcrumbs
Extra virgin olive oil

Boil the potatoes with the skins on in lightly salted water until fork soft (about 30-40 minutes). I use a pressure cooker which cuts the cooking time by half.

In the meantime cut the bell pepper and zucchini, chopping them in same size mince. Preheat oven at 200° C (390° F).

Film a large pan with 3 tbsp of olive oil and sauté the bell peppers for 2 minutes, fold in the zucchini and cook for 10 minutes. Season with salt and pepper, and a tablespoon of triple tomato concentrate diluted in 1 ladle of potato cooking water, simmering over low flame for about 5 minutes. Consider the vegetables must maintain some crunch. Set aside to cool.

Drain the potatoes and force them through a ricer (or a hand-powered food mill, or using the tines of a fork) into a large mixing bowl. The advantage of the ricer is that the skins separate without effort. Add the cubed and grated cheeses and the egg to the riced potatoes, season with salt and pepper, some may want to add a suspicion of grated nutmeg.
Finally fold in the cooled, sautéed vegetables, mixing with a wooden spoon to blend well.

Grease 6 to 8 ramekins with butter, and dredge with the breadcrumbs. Fill each with the mixture to the brim, and top with more breadcrumbs, a pinch more grated cheese and a dribble of olive oil.

Bake for 15-20 minutes or until a golden crust forms on the top. Eating these flans out of small ramekins makes it more fun for the kids, but for convenience sake you can grease and dredge one big baking dish, and thus obtain a "gateau".

I made this tonight. And guess what? My son asked for seconds.

Ribollita

There are two major categories of Italian hearty soups, or zuppe: those based on legumes of some sort, beans, chick peas, lentils, or whatever, added with grains or pasta, like farro or barley; and those that are based on green vegetables –– minestroni, in short.

In sight of the upcoming monumental holiday menus, a warm bowl of healthy minestra works wonders on the overworked digestive system. Plus dinosaur kale is starting to appear on market stalls, so Ribollita makes its yearly debut on my dinner table. Finalmente.

Probably the most representative of Tuscany's zuppa tradition, Ribollita honorably competes with co-regional adversaries Pappa al Pomodoro and Zuppa di Farro for the title of the world's best hearty Italian minestra. Ribollita was the soup typical of Tuscan farmers, and represented the feast of the harvest. Today it is a classic cuisine delicacy, often mis-interpreted and served at white tablecloth restaurants in bowls the size of a thimble. Heresy. Ribollita spells abundance! And thrift! End of rant.

After a first slow stewing, the vegetable-loaded ribollita is left to rest and re-boiled (hence the name, ri-bollita) the next day.

Cavolo Nero––the main ingredient of this twice-cooked bread and vegetable minestrone––is black leaf kale. Some English-speakers call it with its original name cavolo nero, while others refer to it as 'dinosaur kale' or 'laciniate kale' or 'Tuscan kale'.
If you live in the southern hemisphere and it's not exactly cavolo nero season now, here's a trick: adding a sprig of fresh thyme in the preparation magically lends the soup a cavolo nero-flavor. I swear.

There are many variations and family copyrighted recipes for Ribollita. My version is inspired by a combination of the one shared by Artusi, and the version of a Florentine housekeeper that taught my mom this recipe years ago.

500 gr (3 1/2 cups) cannellini beans*
1 leek, trimmed of all green parts and thinly sliced
1 carrot, diced
1 large (or 2 medium) celery ribs, diced
5 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
3 tbsp tomato sauce
500 gr (2 cups) kale (essential!)
4 plum tomatoes, peeled and chopped
1 large onion, finely chopped
2 potatoes, peeled and diced
2 zucchini, diced
1/2 large Savoy cabbage
250 gr (1 cup) Swiss chard
4 slices of day-old (or stale) homestyle bread, roughly torn apart
1 tsp salt and generous lashings of cracked black pepper
(A sprig of fresh thyme in substitution of kale)

*If the beans are dried, soak them in water for at least 24 hours; if fresh or canned, simply rinse after removing them from their pods or cans.

You'll be making this dish the day before serving your Ribollita, so be sure to budget time wisely.
Rinse the beans and boil them in salted water for 40 minutes. Set them aside soaking in their cooking water.

Sauté the leek-carrot-celery holy trinity mirepoix with olive oil, in a heavy bottomed pot. When the leek is translucent, add the tomato sauce. Puree half the beans in the blender with their cooking water and add them to the sauce base.

Stir in all the vegetables, and bring to a boil, then reduce heat and simmer gently for 1 hour.

Fold in the rest of the saved beans and the bread, seasoning to taste with salt and pepper. Keep simmering for 5 more minutes.

Turn off the stove, go to sleep and wish your Ribollita goodnight.
The next day re-boil the soup for 10 minutes and let it rest off the stove for an additional 15 minutes before serving in deep bowls, each containing a garlic-rubbed slice of bruschetta, a drizzle of raw extra virgin olive oil, and several more turns of the pepper mill.

The wine you should pour with Ribollita should be preferably three things: Tuscan, red and intense. I would go with the earthy Cecchi Bonizio, a marvelous blend of Merlot from Tuscany's coastal Maremma zone, and select Sangiovese grapes from the hills of Chianti Classico, loaded with lots of wild berries, spice and complexity, perfect with the round, full and rich mouthfuls of warm, comforting vegetables.

Buon appetito.

Image © Donna Moderna.com

Pasta con le fave ~ Pasta with fava beans

I love this season, it brings with it sunshine, allergies and all my favorite vegetables.
Every Wednesday, my CSA delivers a box with bushels of asparagus, artichokes, crisp heads of lollo lettuce, romanesco broccoli, striped zucchini topped with precious blossoms, free range chicken and eggs, cheese and fruit all hailing from nearby organic Lazio farms. In each box also comes a handful of recipes employing the ingredients of that week.

With the 2 kilos of fava beans that came in this week's haul, I celebrated the national holiday of April 25th, commemorating Italy's liberation from Nazi occupation in 1945. The patriotic fava beans are a common way to end a typical Roman spring meal, provided these be paired with sharp pecorino romano cheese. A match made in heaven.

With the leftover fava beans in my basket, I can either make Vignarola – a versatile miscellany of tender artichokes, fava beans, peas, romaine lettuce hearts, spring onions, lavish amounts of black pepper, and, yes, guanciale (I can actually see the smiles fading from your vegetarian faces) – or a pasta recipe I recently learned while shooting a web series in Capri... But that's another story.

Pasta con le Fave
Ingredients for 4 

1 kg fresh fava beans (some call them broad beans), shelled and peeled
2 garlic cloves, peeled and smashed
Extra virgin olive oil
1 bay leaf
1 peperoncino hot pepper (according to taste)
1 spring onion, thinly sliced
50 gr (1/4 cup) breadcrumbs, toasted
100 gr (1/2 cup) pecorino cheese, grated
400 gr (14 oz) pappardelle type pasta

Film-coat a large skillet with olive oil and lightly sauté the garlic with the bay leaf and the hot pepper.

In a separate small saucepan, do the same with the onion, sauteing it until translucent, about 10 minutes.

Boil the shelled and peeled fava beans in plenty unsalted water. Once tender, fish out the fava beans and save the water, you'll be boiling your pasta in it. Finish cooking the fava beans in the skillet and add the onions, adjust seasoning with a pinch of salt, while stirring with a wooden spoon until all flavors are well blended.

Cook the pasta al dente in the fava water, and drain 2 minutes before the time it says on the box. Toss in the skillet with the fava beans, simmer with a ladle of cooking water, blending over a vivacious flame. 

Finish with two handfuls of toasted breadcrumbs, a thread of olive oil, and a generous dusting of grated pecorino cheese. Serve immediately, washed down with a sincere Frascati.
Buon appetito.

Top image ©E.Baldwin - bottom ©foodwolf.com

Stracciatella

Such a funny word, stracciatella. A noun that means 'torn to little shreds' [strah·tcha·tell·ah] can be one of three things: a variety of egg-drop soup, a gelato flavor and a type of cheese.

The stracciatella gelato is a delicious and exotic version of chocolate chip ice cream, but this is gelato we're talking about, so creamy and not chunky and made with a white fior di latte (milk) base and minuscule dark chocolate shavings. Hence the name.

The stracciatella cheese is the sinful stuffing for burrata typical of Puglia. It is made with torn pieces of mozzarella and mixed with heavy cream. The outer shell is a pouch made of solid mozzarella, while the inside contains both the creamy stracciatella, which give burrata's unique pulpy texture. Cutting through a fresh new burrata and the witnessing the soft shredded pulp oozing out, is a truly mystic experience.

The stracciatella soup is a cucina romana recipe, but this comfort food is made made all over Lazio, which is the region of which Rome is the capital.

The recipe is super easy and brings the magical healing powers of chicken soup to a whole new level.
I once nursed a broken heart on a strict diet of stracciatella (in all three incarnations). Worked wonders.

2 eggs
100 gr (1/2 cup) Parmigiano, grated
1 lt (1 quart) meat stock
A pinch of nutmeg
Salt
Lemon zest

Lightly beat the eggs in a bowl with a fork, add the grated cheese, a pinch of ground nutmeg and a pinch of salt, and whisk to blend.

Bring the beef stock to a rolling boil. Using a whisk, create a vortex in the broth by swirling in the same direction. Be careful, boiling hot brodo is a bitch.

Carefully pour the eggy mixture in one slim stream into the eye of the whirlpool and keep swirling to break up the stracciatella, reduce the heat to maintain it at a gentle simmer for about 5 minutes, as you keep stirring and shredding as the egg cooks in the broth.

Serve sprinkled with a touch of lemon zest.

Have you uncorked the bottle of Colli Lanuvini?

Vegetarian restaurants in Rome

Rome is a city of meat-eaters. But some top-notch vegetarian spots are beginning to make a mark.

Photo © Andrea Di Lorenzo

The average Italian is a carnivore, Romans in particular. Veal and beef are the norm as main courses and in pasta sauces. But the city also has plenty of vegetarian options, mainly because mainstream Italian cuisine, which hasn't changed much since the 19th century, leans heavily on vegetable, pasta and dairy products.

So vegetarians visiting Rome don't need to worry... Continue Reading >>>

Mozzarella fritta recipe

Image © PiccanteDolce

Fried food.

I can't get enough of it.

Rome is big on fried things, and my favorite diet sin is ordering fritto misto all'italiana and doing serious damage to my arteries.

I've posted recipes of many of the elements that compose this fabulous deep-fried dish: Mozzarella in Carrozza, Arancini, Panelle, Zucchini blossoms, Olive Ascolane, fried sage leaves and even fried custard.

But there's one component of fritto misto all'italiana that I love above all else, and that's fried mozzarella. A crisp, cunchy golden crust that conceals a hot, melty and milky filling. Just writing about it makes my mouth water.

When I get the craving for some mozzarella fritta there are two things I can do: hop down to the trusted pizzeria next door and get two orders to go; or fry some myself. Here's how I do it.

2 bocconcini of mozzarella di bufala (bocconcini are the 3-inch balls)
2 eggs, beaten
Flour for dredging
Breadcrumbs mixed with a small pinch of polenta (cornmeal)
Vegetable oil for frying
Salt

Beat the eggs in a bowl, and heat oil in a large frying pan. If you are the lucky owner of an electric fryer, I envy you.

Cube the mozzarella and dredge in flour. Then dunk in the egg wash, coat well with breadcrumbs, and fry until golden.

Drain on paper towel, dust with a pinch of salt, and serve immediately.

Delizioso!

Couscous recipe

When friend and inspired editor Margo of Travel Belles invited me to participate in her once a month column featuring a recipe from around the world, I immediately and enthusiastically accepted. For my first submission, I wrote about Tunisian Couscous...

Continue reading ➔

Bruschetta recipe

The first thing to know before making this genius antipasto staple and its creative variations is how to pronounce its name correctly.

Not 'brushetta,' please. That's mortifying. It's bru–SKET–tah. An onomatopoeic homage to the sharp sound made when digging your teeth in the crisp charcoal baked sourdough bread, drizzled with olive oil and seasoned with sea salt. Sk! Sk! Think skyscraper! Basket! Skipper! Helter Skelter! Brusketta! Yeah, that's it.

In Tuscany, bruschetta is more commonly called fettunta, a contraction of two words (fetta unta) meaning oiled slice. When olives are taken to the local frantoio mill for pressing in late November, the growers typically take some country casereccio bread with them. There is usually a small fireplace burning in the corner of the pressing room, and when the fragrant liquid gold emerges from the press spout, the grower toasts a bit of the bread on the fire to sample the oil.

The meaning of the noun bruschetta has changed so that now some use the word bruschetta incorrectly to refer to the topping instead of the dish. Many grocery store chains worldwide sell bottled bruschetta, which is simply a mix of tomatoes, onion, garlic and oregano, usually cooked!

For original "red" bruschetta, only fresh tomatoes are used and never a sauce. And allow me to say this one more time, we Italians limit the use of oregano to few special dishes: common pizza toppings, Costata alla Pizzaiola and very few other applications. Any other use is a distortion of Italian flavor and a cliché.

All this said, here's my way of making delicious messy slabs of heaven.

For authentic bruschetta you will need:

Good, thick-crust preferably wood oven-baked bread: whole wheat, sourdough (with its typical chip structure and characteristic aroma) or delicious home-style pane casareccio bread. Bruschetta is a good way of recycling day old, or stale bread too.
Organic, cold pressed, extra virgin olive oil. The finest quality is key, particularly for this dish.
Numerous cloves of garlic, peeled
Sea or Kosher salt
Freshly ground black pepper

Optional:
Cherry tomatoes, chopped
Fresh basil leaves, hand-torn (cutting with a metal blade alters the flavor)

The term bruschetta comes from the word bruscare, which means to toast on the fire. So this is a procedure to be carried out on any red-hot surface, be it a barbecue grill, a wood burning oven or fireplace. Pop in a tosater if all else fails. The important thing is the degree of crunch.

While you wait for the coals or logs to reach meat-cooking temperature, place bread slices (max 1 inch thick) on the grill and keep a close watch. Turn with a pair of tongs and remove when lightly charred on the surface.

On a large serving platter place the hot slices and begin rubbing with the peeled garlic cloves to flavor the bread. The more vigorous the scrub, the more intense the taste will be.

Drizzle with abundant olive oil and sprinkle with salt and pepper to taste.

You can dress with chopped tomatoes and basil, or any other interesting variation you may wish to invent. I personally love bruschetta plain, but in the summer when I have guest over for a barbecue, I always like to present them with a variety of choices. Some favorite sample bruschettas include: slices of Prosciutto and a thin wafer slices of mild Nero di Pienza Pecorino cheese, sundried tomatoes and Gaeta olives, veggie spreads like olive or artichoke paste or a dollop of pesto sauce mixed with cream cheese. A very successful coastal bruschetta topping is a spoonful of shelled wedge clams stewed in garlic and olive oil, sprinkled with (very little) parsley.

Visiting Italy as a Vegetarian

"Sono vegetariana," and no one bats an eye. That's because in Italy, skipping meat is no big deal.

The average everyday Italian diet is very vegetarian-friendly, and the reason for this is in the history books... (continue reading this article on Travel Belles →)

Zucchine alla Parmigiana recipe

Summer is definitely here. And with it come chilled glasses of Falanghina, long walks, and lazy afternoons.

Although baking is not ideal in this weather, there's a nice alternative to the usual and world-known cousin Parmigiana di Melanzane, quintessential summer staple. This "tortino in bianco" version, a tomato-less zucchini baked dish, is a summer favorite, and very popular among my circle of friends and family. More delicate than the eggplant counterpart, it combines the principles of Parmigiana, yet with a more subtle gusto.

2 kg (4.4 lbs) ribbed heirloom zucchini (zucchine romanesche)
Parmigiano, grated
Breadcrumbs, toasted
Béchamel sauce (halve quantities to yield 1 1/2 cups)
Extra virgin olive oil
Butter for greasing
Mozzarella (optional)
Salt and pepper


Thinly slice the zucchini length-wise (with a mandoline you can obtain thinner wafers) and sauté them in batches in plenty boiling olive oil. Fish them out with a slotted spoon after a few minutes, the time needed is according to how thinly they have been cut.

*For a "leaner" version, zucchini slices can be grilled, instead of fried.

Grease the bottom of a large enough baking pan with butter, coat with breadcrumbs, and begin layering the zucchini slices, alternating with generous amounts of grated Parmigiano, lashings of béchamel sauce, and a drizzle of olive oil. If you like, you can add sliced Mozzarella as well, but not Bufala, which tends to be too watery. The risk is a soggy mess.

Top the last layer with more Parmigiano, a few curls of butter and some breadcrumbs.

Bake in the oven for 15 minutes or until a nice tan crust forms. Remove from the oven and wait for the ambrosia to cool before you apply to face.

Best eaten at room temperature the next day. During overnight refrigeration, elements firm together, making this leftover dish an excellent sandwich filler.

Buon appetito.

Arancini recipe

While forced to cope with capricious skin, summer crushes and wild hormonal hurricanes, my Positano teen posse and I would often sneak into the Buca di Bacco kitchen at 10 a.m. while chefs were just beginning their morning shift, and order dozens to go. We would pack our fried goods and dash off to the pier where someone’s motorboat was always ready to take us out to sea for a swim. Hours later–exhausted after diving competitions, snorkeling, trolling for scorpion fish, messy water polo matches and lazy sunbathing in the silence of a secluded cove–wolfing down our sun-warmed palle di riso was the best part of the day.

In Sicily they're called arancini, and quite a complex architecture of a snack. Pear-shaped and featuring elaborate fillings, the classic breaded and deep fried rice balls the size of a fist, traditionally have meat ragù, mushrooms and stewed peas in their filling. In other parts of Italy, similar flavor bombs–according to geographical area and assorted filling–go by different monikers: supplì (in Rome) are tomato-flavored and bullet shaped croquettes with a heart of mozzarella; arancini di riso are almost always creamy saffron risotto dome-shaped pucks, or round like oranges (the noun arancino means, small orange). Exotic new fillings in the rice mixture may include the likes of chopped porchetta, a pecorino and pepper mix, and even squid ink.

Palle di Riso–childhood lexicon–are the signature piece of Italian Fritto Misto all’Italiana–a sumptuous mixed vegetarian fried platter. Honoring tradition, I still prepare them according to the long-established Buca di Bacco recipe handed down by chef Andrea Ruggiero himself. I serve them along with a sauceboat of hearty homemade tomato sauce, and three in each plate: a meal.


500 g (1.1 lb) Arborio rice
100 g (1/2 cup) freshly grated Parmigiano or aged Provolone
300 g (1 1/2 cups) mozzarella, finely chopped
5 eggs
A packet of saffron, dissolved in 1 fl oz of hot water
Breadcrumbs, toasted
A fistful of polenta (cornmeal)
Flour for dredging
Peanut oil for frying
Salt

Combine the chopped mozzarella and a fistful of the grated cheese, and set aside.

Boil the rice in lots of lightly salted water, until it reaches the al dente stage. Drain and transfer to a bowl. Let it cool for 10 minutes, then season it with the remaining cheese, 2 lightly beaten eggs, and the diluted saffron. Mix well and let the thick mixture cool some more.

To make a rice ball, take a heaping tablespoon of rice and flatten it out against the palm of your hand, cupping it to make a hollow. Fill the hollow with a tablespoon of the mozzarella mixture and cover the filling with a little more rice, shaping the ball into an orange. Roll it in flour and repeat the ball-making process, until all the rice is used up.

Beat the remaining 3 eggs, season with a pinch of salt, and dip the balls in them. Combine the cornmeal and breadcrumbs and roll the eggy balls in the mixture, coating them well. Fry the palle in hot oil, until golden. Drain well on a paper towel, and serve them hot with your basic tomato sauce for some serious dipping.

Image © stefaniav

Trivia: The Rome version of arancini is called supplì. These are often referred to as "supplì al telefono" – telephone-style. Do you know why? Because when you bite into a proper supplì, the mozzarella should string out like a telephone chord. The advent of cordless phones has made this old way of saying sadly obsolete.

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