Insalata di Riso recipe

Yes, it's officially here.

Jumpers and overcoats get pushed to the bottom of the closet, with cool cotton and light linen beginning to forward in the frontline. Grassy patches are dotted with small daisies, and the balmy Roman air is swirling with pollen and sycamore fuzz (my heart is with you, allergic subjects. This time of year's not equally welcomed). I love spring. Clocks are wound forward, granting longer hours of sunlight; hormones surge and everyone looks happier on their scooters and bicycles.

I like to welcome the onset of primavera with exaggerated enthusiasm, spending lots of time outdoors, rolling around in damp grass with my toddler, and anticipating classic summer recipes.

Quintessence of these (and thrifty re-use of leftovers) is insalata di riso, a pasta salad that employs rice instead of pasta, and many finely chopped ingredients tossed in for flavor (and to clean the fridge).

Image © Corbis

I've made this recipe extra rich to give you an idea of what can go into Insalata di Riso. Feel free to tone it down, substitute other things, or adding more for variety, according to your taste. One ingredient I commonly find in this preparation is mozzarella. As much as I like the milky pasta filata cheese, and pair it to almost anything I can think of, I somehow find it inappropriate in this preparation. But that's just me.

300 g (1 1/2 cups or 5 fistfuls) parboiled rice (the grains should not stick)
Either: 250 gr(1 cup) oil-canned tuna, drained and shredded
Or: 2 franks, cooked and sliced in flat buttons
100 g (1/2 cup) slab of regular deli ham, diced
100 g (1/2 cup) Fontina or Swiss cheese, diced
50 g (1/4 cup) black olives, pitted and sliced
1 dill pickle, diced
2 ripe, peeled, seeded tomatoes, diced (optional)
50 g (1/4 cup) artichoke hearts in oil, diced (optional)
1-2 tbsp. cooked peas (optional)
One half yellow bell pepper, minced
2 hard-boiled eggs, sliced or quartered (optional)
1 tbsp. capers (optional)
1 tbsp. fresh basil, minced
50 g (1/4 cup) olive oil or light mayonnaise
1 tbsp. lemon juice
Salt and pepper to taste


Cook the rice in lots of boiling, slightly salted water. Rinse it with cold water, drain and let it cool off. Meanwhile, assemble the remaining ingredients. Once the rice has cooled, combine all the chopped ingredients, rice and dressing in a large serving bowl, and chill the salad in the refrigerator.

My favorite variation is a posh rice salad made with rice, smoked salmon slivers, 2 types of caviar (red and gray) and steamed, shelled baby scampi. I toss everything with a bit of mayo and chill before serving. It's very good.

Post Meridiem Cappuccino (screw the etiquette)

I'm a cappuccino person.
And I confess, I do cappuccino after 11 a.m.

It's the American in me, although I don't drink cappuccino at restaurants after a meal of say, fried calamari and puttanesca. Italian coffee fundamentalists insist having cappuccino after 11 a.m. is sacrilege (tsk tsk tsk, "all that milk on a full stomach!" headshake). But if the mood is right, the foam is thick, and the barista is an artist, I will indulge in the occasional afternoon cap.

This pictured above is one of the best cappuccinos I've had in a while. Just don't tell Giovanni, the man who's been pouring my breakfast at the counter and saving me a warm cornetto for the past 12 years.

This here is the work of a gentleman named Luigi Santoro, and his caffeinated expression of creative skill is hard to beat. Flavor, texture, aroma... perfection in 5 sips.

The name of his little hole in the wall cafe says it all.

Locals, tourists and students from nearby John Cabot University flock here in droves to savor Luigi's artistic cappuccino, but also for the kosher/parve breakfast pastries; for the pastrami sanwiches (yes–you read correctly, my American expat friends: pastrami-stuffed pizza bianca), and Roscioli bakery products. Besides superior quality ingredients and coffee beans, exemplary craftsmanship, and cordial service, prices are convenient too–considering the centro storico. In my neighborhood, at least, nobody sells cappuccino for €1.

Before each food walk I lead in the area, I always stop by at Luigi's to coat my upper lip with creamy coffee deliciousity. Regardless of what time it is.


Bar Del Cappuccino
Via Arenula, 50
Tel. +39 06 68806042
Bus 63 – 271 – 630 – 780 – Tram 8

You know Easter is approaching when...

...gourmet shops and delis begin to stock chocolate Easter eggs.

Walking home from the bus stop, I always peek in the store windows at Gargani. Today the view was completely blocked by a single shipment of chocolate eggs. Why so much of it, you ask? Easter chocolate is a big thing here! 

Besides roast lamb, Pastiera, hard boiled eggs, salame corallina and cheese-bread, Italians also consume huge quantities of chocolate for Easter. Mini egg-shaped truffles, gold chocolate bunnies, dark chocolate bells, and the classic hollow eggs that come in every size, and each bearing a trinket surprise inside. 

The ones pictured here in particular, are Swiss dark choclate coated in ground Piemonte hazelnuts. I know even if the boxes are sealed, because this is the one sure place I find my Noccior.

Soon much of the contents of these boxes will populate homes across Italy, make children smile, and deposit ruthlessly on thighs nationwide.

Bring it on.

Driving micro-cars in Rome

The season has officially begun. Travelers are here, and my foodie walks are in full swing again, thank you God. I hosted two this week, the last one yesterday, Saturday. Italian Father's Day–a time I usually spend with family, possibly scoffing Zeppole di San Giuseppe.

As I was driving back home—jolty-legged from 4 straight hours of walking (OK, and eating, chatting and eating some more); preoccupied that my little boy's temperature was kept under control, and tired from the week's other 387 chores, appointments and errands—I happened to pull up at a traffic light, behind one of these.

If you don't live in Italy, these expensive little toy cars may be obscure. But they are virtually everywhere here, and especially popular in Rome's more posh neighborhoods. As opposed to other two-seater vehicles, like Smart cars, these are 50 cubic centimeter "quadricycles," built in light fiberglass, and driven much like mopeds and scooters by kids 14 and older. Without a licence.

According to current legislation, a light motorized quadricycle must reflect the following standards: a weight not exceeding 350 kilograms (700 lbs), a maximum speed of 45 kph (28 mph) and a maximum power of 4 kW (5.6 hp).

But after a series of deadly accidents in April of 2010, there has been continued tightening of regulations for under-age drivers, with the introduction of a license system, and a mandatory 12-hour traffic school attendance. The course should cost between €120 and €200, and is due to cover all practical and theoretical aspects of driving, as well as providing training in emergency procedures.

If you've ever been surrounded by a swarm of these speeding contraptions—or worse, hit by one whose brakes have suddenly gone kaput (something that apparently happens quite often)—you too will embrace the new legal ordinance.

Typical micro car situation, posh neighborhood, 5 p.m. on any given weekday/weekend
Loud music thumps from exaggerated sound system.

• Engines that have been tweaked to increase speed and power, roar mercilessly (illegal, since there are age limits per each cc increment). 
• Average young driver smokes cigarettes, while texting on iPhone, while driving. 
• Average passenger is doing the same (except driving). 
• Micro cars tend to cluster and drive very fast to wherever they are going, often racing each other in traffic (while texting on iPhones and smoking cigarettes). 
• Cutting off, overtaking in an intersection, and running a red light often come as built-in accessories. 
• Both driver and passenger give attitude and customarily flip other protesting drivers in the event of above mentioned situations.

Before investing in a micro car, you should know that:

• Micro cars induce plenty of teen PDA. 
• The seating limit is hardly ever observed. 
• Parallel parking a micro car is a misnomer. 
• Micro cars are very expensive (broadly ranging from €14,000 new, to €4,000 used). 
• Insurance premiums for micro cars are very expensive (€900 – €200 per semester, according to region, worse in the southern regions). 
• Micro cars are not environment friendly, although some "electric" models are now being manufactured. 
• No airbags, no anti-lock braking system, no reverse back-up sensors, reduced steering and suspensions, lightweight body, small tires, poor traction control system. 

I wrote this as a precautionary measure in case my son, 10 years from now, thinks he can ask me for one of these.

♥
Si amore, pedala!
(Sure, babe. Keep pedaling)

Fruttini

 

Don't you love these?

They're called fruttini, and they're a clever little dessert. The concept is easy, fruit pulp gets scooped out, made into sherbet or gelato, which then returns back in the empty fruit peel, in the form of delicious, chilled filling!

The one portrayed above is a typical citrus display of fruttini, but the seasonal selection is virtually boundless. I've seen fresh frozen and gelato-filled pears, strawberries, whole pineapples, melons, figs, grapes, apricots, bananas, papayas, a huge watermelon at a party, and then chestnuts, walnuts... and even fennel, radishes and onions!

The futtini-mania has picked up momentum over the years, and I'm sure they've become popular overseas too. There's an artisan gelateria, Matteo Napoli (fruttini's presumed inventor) that sells them online–but ships to Italy and Europe only.

There are plenty of sherbet recipes on the web, I found this one particularly easy, that's of course if you own an ice cream maker. I don't, so what I do for "homemade" fruttini is even better.

I purchase the best quality artisan gelato I can find in flavors corresponding to what fruits I have in the house. I then scoop out the pulp from my fresh fruits and use it for fruit salads or marmalades. All I have to do then is simply fill the emptied fruits with the purchased gelato. It's easier to do with fruits that have a thicker rind, and I'm not trying this trick with kiwi fruits ever again.

I store the self-assembled homemade fruttini in the freezer and take them out 10 minutes before serving.

Furba, eh?