Simple Italy

Celebrating Your Inner Italian

Formaggiomania

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What’s one way to tell if you’ve done a half-way decent job at mothering?

When your daughter returns from a business trip to Rome with a big chunk of formaggio pecorino stagionato. This cheese is the color of antique parchment studded with salt crystals that look like pin pricks. Truly, it looks a little intimidating. But on the tongue, it’s sweet and sharp and surprisingly mellow.

Emma had fun purchasing the aged sheep’s milk at the famed Volpetti food shop in the Testaccio neighborhood. “The guy was so nice. He let me taste it,” she said. (Did I mention that she’s young and beautiful?)

Although Emma can’t remember where it was produced. I checked the product list on the Volpetti Web site and if forced to guess, I’d say Messina in Sicily.

Looking at the photograph, does anyone have a more informed opinion? In the meantime, I’ll be nibbling.

My Calabria

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At the southern tip of the Italian peninsula lies an Italy that few people know: a land of fragrant citron and bergamot orchards, ancient olive groves and terraced vineyards; a place of persistent tradition and ritual where the annual swordfish catch and hot pepper harvest are celebrated with elaborate festivals, and where women still roll pasta dough around knitting needles.

The land is Calabria, the long, skinny toe of Italy. In her stunning new cookbook My Calabria, author Rosetta Costantino seduces us with the food and heritage of the region where she was born. Hers is the first English-language book to document la cucina Calabrese.

Costantino, with the assistance of co-writer Janet Fletcher and photographer Sara Remington, casts a spell on readers, enabling us to practically smell and taste these wonderful rustic foods.

Calabrian cooks and Calabrian cooking are intimately linked to the land and the sea. In a region that has known its share of poverty, the legacy of foraging and agriculture is rich and diverse . . . sweet red onions from Tropea, noce pesca gialla (thin-skinned yellow nectarines), diavoletti (hot peppers), pepe rosso (elongated sweet peppers), fico dottato, (golden-fleshed fig), fico del paradise (red-fleshed fig), elegant purple melanzane, wild asparagus, tuna, swordfish, shrimp, anchovies, sardines.

Dietary staples include breads, hand-made pastas, and cheeses.

One rustic bread is the friselle, a dried rusk that is often rehydrated with juicy sweet tomatoes and fruity olive oil.

Pastas are myriad. Dromësat, a specialty of Calabrians of Albanian descent, resembles couscous. Cannaruozzoli is similar to ditali while schiaffettoni are small squares usually rolled around meat filling like a small cannelloni.

The cheeses are localized and depend upon the terrain. Coastal pastures and mountain meadows nurture cows who give milk for the luscious butirro, which is like caciocavallo on the outside with butter in the center.  Sheep and goats cling to the steep mountainsides to produce milk for Pecorino Crotonese and the ricotta that’s made from its whey. Unlike other parts of Italy, Calabrian pecorino is not necessarily all sheep’s milk. It can contain goat’s milk as well.

Pork is the king of meat, as Costantino writes in an essay called, “From One Hog, Food for a Year.” Fresh meat, fresh salsiccia, lardo, pancetta, and assorted dried cured salumi are some of the appetizing by-products. [Read more…]

Wining and Dining in Ancient Rome

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Roberto Bompiani's depiction of an ancient Roman banquet from the Getty Museum.

By Emma Sanders

Guest Writer

Want to shake things up at your next dinner party? Take a cue from the early Romans. Pour Boone’s Farm, Yellowtail Shiraz, and a coveted Super Tuscan wine, but don’t offer your guests a choice. Instead, assign each guest to one of the three wines based on how much you like and value that person relative to his or her dinner companions. (Warning: you may lose some friends in the process.)

This kind of overt rank valuation was common at early Roman banquets, according to Dr. Nicholas Hudson of UNC Wilmington, who recently spoke on the topic at the University of Pennsylvania in Philadelphia. His lecture, Eat, Drink, and Be Merry:  The Changing Identify of Dining in the Roman World illuminates how styles of dining reflect a changing society.

On early Roman banquets, Pliny writes:

“He apportioned in small flagons three different sorts of wines; but it was not that the guests might take their choice: on the contrary, that they might not choose at all.  One was for himself and me; the next for his friends of lower order (for you must know the measures of friendship according to degrees of quality; and the third for his own free men.”

The Romans also applied this behavior to food, as hilariously summarized by the Latin poet Martial:

“Since I am asked to dinner… why is not the same dinner served to me as to you?  You take oysters fattened in the Lucrine lake, I suck a mussel through a hole in the shell; you get mushrooms, I take hog funguses; you tackle turbot, but I brill.  Golden with fat, a turtle-dove gorges you with its bloated rump; there is set before me magpie that has died in its cage.  Why do I recline with you?”

Over time, banquets shifted from the model of assigning guests social worth. Large sharing dishes became more common. These sharing dishes tended to be very similar in color and design to emphasize consistency of food served across a table. This growing egalitarianism of banquets demonstrated a social and cultural shift from the elitism of early Roman banquets.

In late Rome, a fissure grew between Romans who adopted the newer style of banquets and those who clung to elitism. Dr. Hudson espouses that the newer style of banquets ‑‑based on unity and sharing‑‑ even provided an early precedent for the rituals of Christianity.

To read more about Nicholas Hudson’s work,

visit http://www.archaeological.org/lecturer/nicholashudson

 

 

Walter’s Birthday Ossobuco

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Ossobucco bonus: Use a tiny spoon to capture the succulent marrow nestled inside the hole in the veal bone.

By Walter Sanders

All happy families are alike (in their tradition of birthday meals). All unhappy families are different in their own way (I guess they don’t have the birthday meal tradition).

At our house, the birthday recipient gets to choose his or her birthday meal. It’s a great deal. From first course to dessert, from soup to nuts, from music to candles, it’s the whole package. And the advantage at our home is that the meal is prepared by Sharon. So it is flawless, fun, and flavorful.

I was in a bit of a quandary on February 7th, my birthday. I wasn’t sure what I wanted. Sharon and I were out and about that day, and she suggested we go to Wegman’s, the superb, Rochester-based food retailer, to see what “spoke” to me.

I started with dessert…and chose the Wegman’s mini-marble cheesecake. That’s the birthday dessert I always want. Sharon makes the best I ever had, but as empty-nesters I didn’t want  a sweet that would be savored for days, and would last on our hips for months.

Next to the meat department: When we lived in Florence, I lusted after grilled Lombatina, the succulent veal chop served at Trattoria Benvenuto. I didn’t see any in the custom case. Not a surprise—it’s not a common cut in the U.S. Then, a brilliant entree concept…“Wait, how about veal shanks for ossobuco?”

Sharon looked at me, and admitted she had channeled that thought into my birthday-meal brain. “That’s exactly what I had in mind!” she said.

The rest was easy. We added lascinato kale and fixings for a risotto alla Milanese. I served a 2001 Castello di Brolio Chianti Classico. It was a perfect complement to the splendid meal.

The only thing better than ossobuco for your birthday? Savoring leftovers for lunch.

Ossobucco alla Milanese

(adapted from 1,000 Italian Recipes by Michele Sciccolone, Wiley)

Makes 4 servings

1/4 cup all-purpose flour

4 meaty slices veal shank (about 1 1/2-inches-thick)

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

2 tablespoons unsalted butter

1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil

1 small onion, finely chopped

1 small carrot, finely chopped

1 rib celery, finely chopped

2 cloves garlic, minced

1/2 cup dry white wine

1 cup chopped canned plum tomatoes with juice

1 cup chicken broth

2 anchovy fillets, minced

1 tablespoon minced fat-leaf parsley

2 teaspoons grated lemon zest

Preheat the oven to 300°F. Spread the flour on a piece of waxed paper. Dredge the veal in the flour, shaking off the excess. Season both sides lightly with salt and pepper.

In an ovenproof pot with a tight-fitting lid, melt the butter and oil over medium-high heat. Add the veal.

Cook for about 10 minutes, or until browned on the bottom. Turn and cook for about 5 minutes, or until browned on the bottom. Remove to a plate and set aside.

Add the onion, carrot, celery, and garlic to the pot. Reduce the heat to medium-low. Cook, stirring occasionally, for about 10 minutes, or until tender.

Add the wine and cook, scraping up any browned bits, for about 5 minutes, or until the wine no longer smells of alcohol. Add the tomatoes, broth, 1/2 teaspoon salt, and 1/2 teaspoon pepper. Bring to a brisk simmer. Return the meat to the pan, pushing gently to submerge in the sauce. Cover the pot and place in the center of the oven.

Bake for 1 1/2 hours. Carefully remove the lid to check the consistency of the sauce. If it is too runny, continue baking, uncovered, for about 30 minutes longer, or until the sauce is thickened. If the sauce looks too thick, add 1/4 to 1/2 cup more broth, cover and bake about 30 minutes longer, or until the veal is fork tender.

Remove the pot from the oven. Place the anchovies in a small bowl. Ladle some of the sauce into the bowl and whisk to dissolve the anchovies. Pour into the pot and stir gently to incorporate.

In a small bowl, combine the parsley and zest. Plate the shanks with the risotto (recipe follows). Spoon on the sauce and sprinkle on the parsley mixture.

Risotto alla Milanese

(from Cooking Up an Italian Life)

Serves 4 to 6 as a side dish

2 1/4      cups chicken broth

1              tablespoon butter, divided

2              teaspoons extra-virgin olive oil

1/2         small onion, finely chopped

3/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons Arborio or other superfino rice

1/8         teaspoon saffron threads, crumbled

1/8         teaspoon salt

1/4         cup dry white wine

1/2         cup (2 ounces) grated Parmesan cheese

Heat the broth to a boil in a saucepan. Reduce the heat to low.

In a heavy saucepan, melt 1/2 tablespoon butter and oil over medium-low heat. Add the onion and cook, stirring occasionally, for 10 minutes, or until soft. Add the rice, saffron, and salt. Stir to color the rice evenly. Add the wine. Increase the heat to medium-high. Cook for about 4 minutes, or until the wine is absorbed.

Reduce the heat to medium-low. Add 1/2 cup of broth. Start timing the cooking.

Simmer the rice, stirring constantly, until the broth is absorbed. Continue adding broth, 1/2 cup at a time, and stirring frequently. After 18 minutes of cooking, start testing the rice. The rice should be tender but still hold its shape. When it is cooked, remove from the heat. (All of the broth mixture may not be needed.) Add the remaining 1/2 tablespoon butter. Stir. Add the cheese and stir.

What Italian dish will you have for your birthday?

Share your pick by leaving a comment.

Greens, Borlotti Beans, and Polenta

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(Clockwise from top) Collard greens, broccoli rabe, and curly kale.

“Do you have a rabbit?”

I was so intent on punching in the number codes for my produce items in the self-checkout that, at first, I didn’t realize the woman was speaking to me.

“Do you have a rabbit?” she repeated. “Or a juicer?”

My puzzled expression encouraged her to elaborate. “All these greens, I thought maybe you have a rabbit,” she said gesturing to the bags of broccoli rabe, curly kale and collards on the counter. “You don’t eat them, do you?”

I squelched my urge to laugh and assured her that these greens were incredibly tasty. “I stir sauté them in olive oil and garlic,”  I offered.  “My family loves them.” (I didn’t go so far as to disclose that one of my proudest achievements as a parent is that both my daughters adore these hearty, healthful vegetables.) As I bagged my leafy booty and left the market, she still didn’t look convinced.

I thought of her that evening when we feasted on pungent broccoli rabe, borlotti beans braised with pancetta, and creamy polenta. We are some lucky bunnies!

This rustic dinner of greens, borlotti beans and polenta is typical of central and northeastern Italian country food in the winter. Borlotti rival the Tuscan favorite cannellini as my pick for best Italian bean. The borlotti have tan skin with black-magenta streaks. When cooked the skin turns a warm cocoa brown and the cooking broth and beans create a savory gravy. They’re so satisfying especially with some pancetta in the pot.

My local supermarket doesn’t stock borlotti beans so chances are yours won’t either. I used the superb organic borlotti from www.ranchogordo.com in Napa, CA. Some other online beans sellers are www.purcellmountainfarms.com and www.bobsredmill.com for cranberry beans, a good stand-in for borlotti.

Stir-Sautéed Greens

Makes 4 to 6 servings

Extra-virgin olive oil

1          large clove garlic, minced

1          pound broccoli rabe, kale, chard, or collard greens

Salt and freshly-ground ground black pepper

Wash the greens in plenty of cold water. Remove and discard tough stems. Chop the greens. There’s no need to dry them; the water on the leaves will create steam in the pan to help tenderize them.

Film a large sauté pan or large pot generously with olive oil. Scatter in the garlic and make sure it is filmed with oil. Set over low heat. Cook for about 3 minutes, watching and stirring frequently, or until garlic is softened. Do not brown.

Increase heat to high. Add half the greens to the pan; toss with tongs. Cover for about 1 minute or until the greens start to wilt. Add the remaining greens. Toss and cover for 1 minute. Uncover and cook, tossing, for about 2 minutes or until greens are wilted, brightly colored and glossy. Season to taste with salt and pepper.

Vino sangiovese from the province of Romagna.

This recipe for borlotti is inspired by the beans I ate at Poggio Duca, a wonderful agriturismo on the border between Romagna province and the Marche. The large inviting dining room has a bank of windows overlooking the valley below the medieval mountaintop village of San Leo.

Braised Borlotti Beans with Pancetta

Makes 4 to 6 servings

Extra-virgin olive oil

2 ounces thick pancetta or good-quality slab bacon, finely chopped

1 onion, chopped

1 tablespoon minced fresh rosemary

1 cup canned crushed tomatoes or tomato puree

1 pound cooked borlotti beans with cooking liquid (see following cooking method)

Salt and black pepper

In a large heavy pot, combine about 1 tablespoon oil with the pancetta. Cook over medium-low heat for about 5 minutes, or until the pancetta fat is rendered and the meaty streaks start to brown. Add the onion. Cook, stirring, for about 5 minutes or until the onion is translucent. Add the rosemary and tomato. Bring to a simmer. Add the beans with their cooking liquid. Stir.

Partially cover the pot and cook at a gentle simmer for about 45 minutes until the beans thicken slightly and the flavors blend. Season to taste with salt and black pepper.

Basic Method for Cooking Dried Beans

Makes 6 to 7 cups

1          pound dried beans, sorted and washed

12        cups good-tasting water (approximately)

1          carrot, cut in 2-inch chunks

2          ribs celery heart, cut in 2-inch chunks

1          small onion, cut in half

1          bay leaf

Several parsley stems

Salt

In a large pot, soak the beans overnight in cold water to cover.

Drain the beans and return them to the pot. Cover with water about 2 inches above the beans. Add the carrot, celery, onion, bay leaf, and parsley. Cover and bring almost to a boil. Remove the cover and reduce the heat so the water liquid simmers. Skim any foam and discard.

Partially cover the pot. Adjust the heat so the water liquid simmers but does not boil. Cook for 1 hour. Test a bean for doneness. Add slightly more water if needed to keep beans covered. Stir gently. Cook for 1 to 2 more hours, adding more liquid as needed, or until beans are tender but hold their shape. Taste. Season to taste with salt.

Remove from the heat to cool.  Remove and discard the carrot, celery, onion, bay leaf, and parsley stems. Place the beans in a covered container and refrigerate for up to 2 weeks before using in a recipe. The beans may also be frozen if you plan to use them in a recipe like soup where firm texture is not crucial.

Creamy Polenta

Makes 4 to 6 servings

1          cup cornmeal, preferably stone-ground

4          cups chicken broth, water, or milk

1/4       teaspoon salt

Grated Pecorino Romano cheese

Whisk the cornmeal, milk, and salt in a saucepan. Cook, whisking constantly, over medium-high heat, for about 5 minutes, or until thickened. Reduce the heat to low. Simmer, stirring occasionally, for about 2 minutes. Remove from the heat.

Do you eat Italian rabbit food, too? How do you prepare your greens? What do you serve with them?