Simple Italy

Celebrating Your Inner Italian

Market to Table

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Berks County, PA farmers Charis and Michael, opening day of the Emmaus Farmers Market 2010.

How do I get in touch with my Inner Italian when I’m not in Italy? For seven months of the year, I purchase just-picked produce at my local farmers’ market. It’s one of the best ways I know of to eat “Italian.”

Dinner possibilities sprouted before me.

Walter grilled onions and asparagus coated in olive oil while I cooked rigatoni.

I tossed in some cooked cannellini beans and sage for the first of many simple, satisfying summer meals to come.

Sprinkle on freshly grated Parmesan or breadcrumbs crisped in olive oil for a vegan dish.

How does seasonal produce inspire your meals? Share your story.

Enchanted Wisteria

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All my gardenista friends assured me that wisteria cannot, actually will not, die.

“Sharon,” they warned, “it will take over your pergola. . . your roof. . .then your entire house. Eventually you will be trapped in a maximum security wisteria prison.”

Boy, were they wrong! The newly constructed pergola behind our sub-division home was sitting on a slab of soil as hard as concrete. Several wisteria plantings succumbed. After I had the brilliant idea to construct planter boxes for new attempts, the voles moved in to pig-out on the all-you-can-eat roots buffet.

Now, 10 years later, I am triumphant. I have not one, but two, wisteria that bloom. How I appreciate them.

Every spring when I gaze at these impossibly gorgeous pendulous blooms, I’m reminded of the film Enchanted April. It starts as Lottie the frumpy post WW I English housewife reads a newspaper advert for vacations in Italy:  “To Those Who Appreciate Wisteria and Sunshine.”

This flick is quintessential posh Brit production.  Lush settings and costumes showcase a tale of British hot house flowers—Lottie and three new acquaintances who  share the villa rental—blossoming under the Mediterranean sun.

Italy works its fatal magic on the quartet, of course.  We’d expect nothing less for those who appreciate wisteria and sunshine.

Directed by Mike Newell, this 1992 film features a stellar ensemble cast including Jim Broadbent, Miranda Richardson, Josie Lawrence, Polly Walker, Joan Plowright, Alfred Molina, and Michael Kitchen. Set in London and the Ligurian coast of Italy in 1922, this gentle comedy is love-and-life affirming.  Rent the film on Netflix or purchase a copy at amazon.

Unimpeachable

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Torta di pesche in a tender butter cookie crust.

Torta di pesche in a tender butter cookie crust.

I’m living in a kind of peach frenzy.

Peaches and ricotta for breakfast. Baked peaches blanketed with pastry cream. Peach sorbetto.  Peach tart in a sweet cookie crust.

Pondering how long my supplies will last, I just spoke on the phone to the friendly clerk at Bechtold’s Orchard in Bucks County, PA. She said peaches will be available for about one more week. O-N-E week?  Sadly, the days of peaches dwindle down to a precious few.

Like a squirrel frantically stashing nuts for the bleak days to come, I’m stockpiling peaches in my freezer. It’s easy enough to do. Submerge the ripe but firm peaches in a pot of boiling water for 30 to 60 seconds. Transfer them with a slotted spoon to a big bowl of ice water.

A Bechtold's Orchard peach emerging from a refresing ice water bath.

A Bechtold's Orchard peach emerging from a refresing ice water bath.

Start peeling with a sharp paring knife at the stem end and the skin slips off as easily as a satin robe gliding off the shoulder of a 1930s glamour queen. Halve or quarter the peaches and lay them on a tray lined with plastic wrap. Place in the freezer for a day and then pack the frozen peaches into a resealable plastic freezer bag or plastic freezer container.

Peeled peaches ready to be flash frozen.

Peeled peaches ready to be flash frozen.

And, while you still have the chance, you can bake a homey Italian peach tart with the following recipe. It’s sweetened with fruit preserves to intensify the flavor of the fresh fruit filling. Sometimes I replace half the preserves with ginger-peach chutney from Tait Farm Foods in Centre Hall, PA. It makes a sweet, slightly hot filling that’s bliss.

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Kiwi l’italiana

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kiwi2

I was surprised when I read the sticker “produce of Italy” on the kiwi fruit I’d popped into my bag at the local supermarket. It was so unexpected . . . like encountering Andrea Bocelli at the dry cleaner. The context seemed all wrong.

The kiwi got me to thinking about fresh food imports from Italy. I don’t believe I’ve ever encountered any before, with possible exception of blood oranges. The familiar foodstuffs from Italy that I know and buy (and consider essential for “genuine” tastes) are cured, dried, or preserved in some way: Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese, canned San Marzano tomatoes, salted capers from Pantelleria, dried pasta from Abruzzo.

Yet, here was this fresh Italian kiwi, now in my kitchen. Not a typically “Italian” ingredient but, then, neither was citrus fruit when it came to Rome from southern China during the time of Emperor Augustus.

Kiwi probably also comes from China but didn’t make an impact on Western cooking until it was cultivated in New Zealand in the early 20th century. During the 1970s in France, kiwi became the darling of nouvelle cuisine, probably in large part to its startling green color. It’s been a constant in U.S. supermarkets since then.

I actually have seen kiwi growing in Italy. In June of 2002, while visiting an olive grower in Tuscia, a historic Etruscan area that comprises southern Tuscany and northern Latium, I noticed a verdant field of plants that I didn’t recognize. “Kiwi,” my host explained. “Wow,” I thought, “I didn’t expect that answer.”

A visit to the Italian Trade Commission Web site produced a link to a consortium Kiwi Latina (IGP). Latina is a province south of Rome. I doubted my kiwi could have been cultivated in March in central Italy unless in a greenhouse. On Italian Google, I searched the other name on the sticker “Star” in conjunction with “kiwi” but all I got for my effort was a link to famous movie directors from New Zealand.

Guess I won’t know where my Italian kiwi came from and I’m still uncertain whether it’s a good thing that it came so far. The 3-ounce kiwi cost 50 cents. If the kiwi were an 125-pound person flying one-way from Rome to New York, its air fare would be $334.

Have you seen any fresh foods from Italy in your supermarket? Tell us about them.

The Pollan-ator

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chives

As I sprinted by my herb garden this morning, shivering and mentally cursing the weather because the temperature was still in the 20s, a perky little voice caught my attention. “Psssssst. Down here. Look at us. We’re coming to save you.” It was my chives, always the first green volunteers in the barren brown soil patch between the garage and the sidewalk.

My spirits warmed as I remembered my intention to spread the word about a brilliant book I just finished reading: In Defense of Food: An Eater’s Manifesto by Michael Pollan, the award-winning journalist (and for you celebrity buffs, brother of actress Tracy Pollan, Michael J. Fox’s wife).

indefenseoffood Pollan, a contributor to the New York Times and professor of journalism at UC Berkeley’s graduate school, has been writing about food, agriculture, gardens, drugs, and architecture, for the past 20 years.

That Pollan felt compelled to write a book to convince us to eat real foods is, well, an indication of just how ludicrous and anxiety-ridden our relationship with food has become.

He fearlessly challenges the scientific-governmental-journalistic triad of “nutritionism” which is adept at isolating nutrients from food and  preaches to the public that mere humans are not capable of feeding themselves.

And, at the risk of disappointing Mr. Pollan’s literary agent, I doubt that he’ll be able to sell foreign publication rights to the Italians. They already eat . . . no, make that savor and value . . . real food and have been doing so for thousands of years.

I hope that after you read Pollan’s sensible, good-humored, well-researched advice, you’ll feel as I do. We, the earth, our food crops and domesticated animals are all parts of a whole.

No one part can be healthy without the others.

You may just find yourself wanting to stick some chives in your garden-whether that’s an acre, a patio container, or a windowsill flowerpot.