Food Lover's Odyssey

Artichoke and Spinach Ravioli in a Browned Butter Sauce

 

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Artichokes have always been a part of my life. A food memory from my childhood, they are a symbol of summer, or at least sunny days and warmer weather. When I was young, my mom would make stuffed artichokes once the sun began to shine daily, and then regularly throughout most of the summer. We ate them a lot yet never tired of them. One stuffed artichoke was a filling meal for a kid, and even an adult. No one talked as we ate. Our heads down, we scraped leaf after leaf against our teeth to get the perfect artichoke "meat" and stuffing combination. In a how-many-licks-to-the-center kind of way, I would make my way through the leaves quickly. My main goal was to get to the heart, my favorite part. Although I prepare them in various ways throughout the season, steaming them and maybe adding an olive oil & vinegar dressing is my favorite, they are still a regular part of my spring/summer table.

 

This year's artichoke binge, however, started in March with my trip to Italy. Artichokes were in season throughout most of country, and I saw them everywhere. They were displayed in tall stacks at outdoor markets. Vendors would sit at their stalls turning one artichoke after another, leaving a trail of the discarded leaves on the ground, paring the leaves away to get to the heart. They tossed these little round disks into buckets of acidulated water. Each heart, (il fondo in Italian) bobbed up and down in the water waiting to be taken home and eaten.

During my trip, I also found artichokes on many menus and in a variety of dishes, eating them every chance I could. I ate them in pasta dishes, on top of pizza al taglio in Rome and on pizza in Napoli. I ate just the hearts, marinated and served as cicchetti in Venice, or hearts creamed with just a bit of olive oil and slathered over crostini. They were part of the layers of vegetables in the Salento dish, Verdure al Forno. I also had them in Rome alla giudea (fried) and alla Romana (braised in a dressing of lemon juice, olive oil, parsley, wild mint and garlic).

 

 

Artichoke and Potato Puree Dish from Cibreo

 

All versions were delicious, but the most dramatic dish was one at Ristorante Cibreo in Florence. Laura and I ate an amazing dinner there. This dish was one that she had ordered. Luckily she was nice enough to share more than a few bites with me. The artichoke was steamed and then lightly sauteed. It sat, turned upside down, on a plate of pureed potatoes. The yellow color of the potatoes gave you an idea of the amount of butter in the puree, possibly equal to the amount of potato on the dish. With a tableside presentation, the waiter sat the dish in front of Laura and easily sliced the artichoke in half, revealing a bright orange egg yolk in the center of the overturned artichoke. The yolk added to the already creamy texture and decadence of the dish.

 

 

Eventually, I hope to recreate all these dishes I tasted during my trip. With this dish, instead of making pasta with a sauce of artichokes, I've put artichokes in the pasta. It's been my go-to ravioli filling in May. I first made it for a dinner party where the client wanted ravioli. It was a hit. I wanted to make one alteration, namely add more artichokes, tweeked the recipe, and made it for another. Again, a hit.

Finally, I made some for home, and here for you. These are in a half-moon, or agnolotti, shape. You can also make them in a square or round shape. Since it's all about the filling for me, I think the half-moon shape gives you get a better ratio of filling-to-pasta. I served them in a simple brown butter sauce and topped them with chards of Parmigiano cheese, freshly-grated black pepper and a few bits of thyme.

 

 

 

 

Artichoke and Spinach Ravioli

(makes about 60 ravioli)

 

For the pasta:

2 1/4 cups (300 grams) all-purpose flour

3 large eggs

 

 

For the filling:

5-6 medium-sized artichokes

20 ounces frozen spinach, thawed and drained of all water

1 cup ricotta cheese

1 cup grated Parmigiano Reggiano cheese

1 egg

2 teaspoons salt, plus more to taste

1/2 teaspoon freshly-ground pepper, plus more to taste

 

1-2 egg whites for assembling the ravioli

 

For the sauce:

1 pound (4 sticks) unsalted butter

A few sprigs of thyme

Chards or grated Parmigiano Reggiano cheese for garnish

Freshly-ground black pepper, to taste

 

Remove the tough outer leaves of the artichokes. Steam them over simmering water for about 50 minutes, until tender. Slice the artichokes in half and remove the choke. Set aside to cool completely.

 

To make the pasta: Sift the flour onto a wooden working board and make a well. Break the eggs and place them in the center of the well. Using a fork beat the eggs until the yolks break and the whites and yolks are combined. Then, slowly bring in flour from the edges until there is enough flour in the center to prevent the eggs from running. Using your hands combine enough flour so that the dough is no longer sticky. Remove any excess flour from the board and knead until all the flour and egg are evenly combined and the dough is soft and smooth, about 5 minutes. Cover in plastic wrap and then a dry towel and let rest for 30 minutes.

 

To make the filling: Chop the artichokes into bite-size pieces, about 1/2-inch chunks, and place into a mixing bowl. Add the drained spinach (make sure all the water has been removed from the spinach), the ricotta, grated Parmigiano cheese, the egg, and salt and pepper. Stir together to combine. Adjust seasoning if necessary.

 

To assemble the ravioli: Roll out the dough by hand or use a pasta machine. Roll the dough out fairly thin. (Note: Each machine varies, but I rolled it to #7 on my machine.) For the half-moon agnolotti shape, use a round 3-inch in diameter cookie cutter and cut out round pasta disks. With a pastry brush, brush a little of the egg white onto the border of each pasta disk. Place about 1 1/2 teaspoons of the filling into the center of each disk. Fold over to make a half-moon shape and seal the edge with a fork. Continue this process until you have used all the pasta dough and filling. (These freeze well, so you can make extra for the future).

 

Bring a pot of 6-8 cups of water to a rolling boil. Add a generous amount of salt and let the water come back to a rolling boil. Add the ravioli and cook until they are al dente, about 6 minutes if they are fresh (longer if they are frozen). While the ravioli are cooking heat the butter over medium high heat until it browns. I used a stick of butter (1/2 cup) for every 15 ravioli. Once the ravioli are cooked, strain off the excess pasta water and add them to the sauce. Toss and serve with a few bits of thyme, Parmigiano cheese (chards or grated) and the black pepper. Four to five ravioli make a nice primo piatto (first pasta course). Eight ravioli will make a filling main course. Buon Appetito!

 

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What is your favorite artichoke dish?

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This post is part of Wanderfood Wednesdays, a group of traveling foodies who blog. Head on over there and check out what other food lovers are eating.

 

Related Posts:

Crimini Mushroom Ravioli with a Lemon-Cream Sauce

Fettuccine ai Funghi (Fettuccine with Wild Mushrooms) and Fall in Rome

Sagne Ncannulate Schattariciati (Handmade Pugliese Pasta with Bursted Tomato Sauce)

Pasta all' Amatriciana

Cacio e Pepe in a Parmesan Bowl Inspired by Roma Sparita

Asparagus and Lemon Risotto

The Art of Making Pasta by Hand: A Pugliese Pasta Lesson with Nonna Vata

My Last Meal - Preparing for the End of the World

Roman Pasta Dishes and Ten Places to Eat Them in Rome

Morning at the Rialto Market in Venice

Pugliese Pasta: Sagne Ncannulate con Sugo Schiattariciati ("Squished" Tomato Sauce)

 

Behind almost every dish I make is a story. The dishes I like best have the most memorable stories behind them. Sometimes it's a long story, a chunk of someone's life. When I make meat ragu, I always think of my mom. I recount part of her life in each four-hour meat sauce. Those of our times cooking together, our weekly spaghetti and meat sauce dinners while growing up (and afterwards), and even the holiday dinners, when she would use her meat sauce with my nonna's ravioli.

Sometimes the dish tells a story of brief events all linked together through one dish. La Coda alla Vaccinara makes me think of the chef in Rome who told me how he makes it, and the GranTourismo competition I entered and won with that recipe and story. I think of Testaccio, my apartment there, and of Rome.

Either in my mind or aloud, I retell the story of the dish each time I make it. I relive those special events, and recall the friends and family who shared the meal with me. If I make a dish for you, know you will hear its story as we eat it.

In this dish I've made today, is a story of a day in Salento. I've shared much of the day with you in previous posts, the morning making pasta with Debora's Nonna Vata and the afternoon in the kitchen with Pina, Claudia and Ylenia.

Pina and the pasta schiattariciati we had at lunch

Nonna Vata making pasta

While making the sagne ncannulate for this post, I remembered that day again. Meeting Nonna Vata, her lesson and advice, her saying "vai, vai, vai" (go, go, go) when I was doing things correctly. I thought of Pina, and the stories she had about the Salentino food. Each vegetable and spice had a story behind it that she told me as she added the ingredient to the pot. I remember the table at Cantine Menhir and all of us gathered around, the jokes, the conversation. Each time I make this dish, I'll repeat the story in my head, think of the people with which I shared the meal, and share the story with whomever is with me.

Through my previous posts, you know the stories behind the dish. Now, I share the recipe with you.

The pasta is a truly regional one, Pugliese. Food is still very regional in Italy, so much so that even many pasta shapes have their own regions. In the stores in Salento, I saw only sagne ncannulate, orecchiette and maccheroni (known as minchiareddhri in Pugliese dialect). There might have been spaghetti or penne somewhere, but it was hidden behind the many packages of these regional pasta shapes. The sauce, schiattariciati, which means squished, is easy to make and oh so good. Fresh tomatoes explode in a generous amount of olive oil. There's a little garlic and a lot of fresh basil. To finish, the regional cheese, cacioricotta, is tossed through the dish to add a creaminess to each strand of pasta.

Step by step instructions for making and rolling out this pasta are on my post: A Pasta Making Lesson with Nonna Vata. If you don't want to roll out the pasta by hand, you can use a pasta machine. Roll it out to the #5 level of thickness.

With Nonna Vata, we made sagne similar to the middle photo below, just thinner. I also saw sagne curved like a horseshoe. Either way, you should cut the strips to about 15 inches in length. The thinner sagne ncannulate are made with strips 1/4-inch in width (on the left in the photo below) and with the thicker ones, cut the strips 1/2-inch in width (on the right in the photo below).

Here are a few more notes on shaping the pasta:

It takes a lot of practice to get the motion down and a perfectly twirled sagne ncannulate like Nonna Vata's. (At first you'll get one side tightly twirled and the other loosely twirled.)

Let the pasta dry, at least 4 hours, before cooking.

For me, the thinner strips (1/4-inch wide) are harder to make more uniform than the thicker ones.

 

I still need to master Nonna Vata's way of shaping the sagne ncannulate. In the meantime, I found that it was easier to make a more uniform twirl if I rolled the pasta around my index finger, and then pulled the roll out on the board. From there, I created a tighter twirl by lightly rolling it on the board, with one hand over the top of the pasta and another holding an edge of the pasta.

 

Join me in Puglia in 2013! For this food lover's culinary tour, we'll be cooking with our beautiful Italian mamme and professional chefs and also eating and exploring our way through the region.  There are four tour dates available from which to choose! For tour details, check out this page: Culinary Tours in Puglia 2013! 

***Early booking discount: Book and pay by check by January 31, 2013 and receive a $200 discount off the tour price.****

 

 

 

Sagne Ncannulate con Pomodorini Schiattariciati

Serves 4 people

1 pound (450 grams) dried sagne ncannulate pasta (you can substitute spaghetti or linguine)

For making Sagne Ncannulate Pasta:

(adapted from my lesson with Nonna Vata)

1 pound (450 grams) durham wheat flour (semolina flour in the U.S.)

About 1/2 cup warm water

Note: The amount of water you will need varies by day and by area depending on the climate, and especially the humidity. I used 1/2 cup of water on a typically arid California day. In the summer in, say Texas, you will certainly need less water.

For the Schiattariciati Sauce:

(adapted from Pina's schiattariciati sauce)

1/3 cup extra-virgin olive oil

4 garlic cloves, whole with the skins on

2 pounds (900 grams) cherry tomatoes, with stems removed

1 tablespoon kosher salt

20 to 25 basil leaves, plus more for garnish

About 3/4 cup grated cacioricotta cheese*

In a large sauce pot, bring about 8 cups of water to a rolling boil. Once the water has boiled add a generous amount of salt and let it come back to a boil.

In another deep sauce pot, add the olive oil and whole garlic. Over medium heat, heat the oil until it starts to bubble. Gently place the whole cherry tomatoes in the oil. Cover the saucepan with its lid and leave for 5 to 7 minutes, letting the tomatoes "explode" under the lid. Add the salt and basil leaves, and cover until you're ready to add the pasta.

Once the tomatoes have burst, put the pasta in the boiling water. If you're using home made sagne ncannulate, boil for 3 to 4 minutes (depending on the size of the pasta). Then place into the squished tomato sauce and combine. If you are using boxed pasta, cook only half the cooking time that are on the cooking instructions. (Because the pasta cooks in the sauce, it should be extremely al dente when you remove it from the water.) Off the heat add the grated cheese and toss until the cheese has coated all the pasta. Garnish with fresh basil. Serve.

*Cacioricotta is a Salento cheese that is a combination of cheese and ricotta. I'm still searching for an adequate substitute in case you can't find it in your area. (I tried ricotta salata, but it's not the right substitute.)

 

Related Posts:

The Art of Making Pugliese Pasta by Hand - A Lesson with Nonna Vata

Cheese of Puglia: Making and Eating Fresh Cheese in Salento

Tour of Masseria L'Astore and a Frantoio Ipogeo in Salento

A Tour of Lecce - The Baroque Beauty in Puglia

Lunch Salento Style at Cantine Menhir

Classic Salentino Cuisine Reinvented at Sette di Sette in Lecce

The Pastries of Lecce with Pastry Chef Luca Capilungo

The Dish from Puglia: Friselle with Tomatoes

The Dish from Puglia: Ricci di Mare (sea urchins) from Porto Badisco

The Dish from Lecce: Rustico Leccese

Artichoke and Spinach Ravioli in a Brown Butter Sauce

Slow-Cooked Meat Ragu to Honor Mom

Pasta all'Amatriciana - A Roman Treat

Cacio e Pepe in a Parmesan Cup inspired by Roma Sparita

Pasta con le Sarde and Cooking in Palermo

 

Braciola di Maiale - Braised Pork Roll for a Sicilian Holiday Dinner

 

 

Braciola, a stuffed roll of meat, reminds me of my mom.  Not because she made it; actually she never made it.  She would talk about it, pronouncing it bru-shah-loh-nee or shortening it to brah-jyohl, and always complain about the eggs in the dish.  "Why not take the eggs out?"  I asked one day.  Well, that's not how my mom cooked.  She didn't tamper with recipes, especially family ones.  You made them the way the previous generation made them.  If you didn't like the dish, you made something else. 

Not my philosophy at all, especially when I was younger and just starting to bake and cook. If I didn't like something in a dish, I would want to leave it out, even if it changed the dish altogether. I wanted to put chocolate in everything and take walnuts out of everything.  Being the strong-willed child, adolescent and young adult I am was, my mom and I would have debates about how much I could change a recipe while keeping the integrity of the dish.  (I still believe you can take those yucky walnuts out of rocky road and still call it rocky road--the marshmallows make it rocky, too, you know.)  We'd banter over almost every dish on a menu.  Her testa wasn't as dura as mine, so she'd give in more than I would, and some recipes got changed.  Well, except the rocky road. 

We'd also have debates over the Italian language.  My mother and my aunts learned from their parents, and spoke Sicilian dialect.  My grandfather passed away when I was two, and my grandmother only taught me a few words.  I learned at a private school in San Francisco (they didn't offer Italian at my public school). Many of the teachers were from Florence.  The language I learned was sometimes so far from what my mom spoke, she would insist that I wasn't speaking Italian.  I was; maybe with an American accent, but I had the words right.  I would bring her my Italian dictionary and show her, "See, mom, this is the word for lemon, 'limone', NOT lemuna.  This is the word for cherry, 'ciliegia' NOT cirazu"  And so it went, with many other words, including braciola.

As I've become older and have cooked more, I realize there should be a balance struck between honoring the traditions and recipes of the past and changing them.  Before changing a recipe, I strive to understand why an ingredient is in it and whether it's necessary to the essence of the dish.  In the case of braciola, I don't think the eggs are necessary and have actually found other versions without them. 

Because the braciola was so popular at the dinner, I decided to treat my aunts to it and make it again (as most of you know, my mom is no longer with us).  I told them I was going to make, braciola (pronouncing it: brah-chee-oh-la).  Both of them said, "What's that?"  Changing my pronunciation, I repeated, "I'm making bru-shah-loh-nee or brah-jyohl." Then they understood.  I added, "Oh, and I'm leaving the eggs out."

 

 

 

This pork roll recipe came about after Paula emailed me a recipe from Mario Batali saying she would like it or one similar to it for the secondo (main dish).  Mario's was a rolled pork shoulder and had eggs in it.  At the time, I was leafing through the My Calabria cookbook I had just received (my prize from a giveaway at My Bella Vita) and noticed that there was a recipe for Vrasciole (dio mio, the Calabresi are just as bad with the dialect). These were individual-sized pork rolls that looked divine.  The filling in these Vrasciole was pork fat, parsley, and garlic.  Since I often make my grandmother's spiedini (known as involtini to the rest of Italy), I know they take a lot of time to wrap up individually.  To save on time, I decided to make a large roll and combined ideas from both recipes that I thought would enhance the dish.  As I said, it was a hit.  Only the desserts, the Torta Setteveli and Lemon Granita, were more popular. Now, I share the dish with you.

Along with this dish, you can find all the recipes for an Italian (and Sicilian)-inspired holiday dinner here on Food Lover's Odyssey:

Antipasti: Involtini di Melanzane

Primo Piatto: Spaghetti Siracusana

Secondo Piatto: Braciola di Maiale (below)

I Dolci: Granita di Limone  and Torta Setteveli

 

 
 

Braciola di Maiale

Adapted from recipes from Mario Batali and My Calabria by Rosetta Costantino

(Serves 8-10 people)

4 1/2 pounds pork shoulder, bone out, butterflied and pounded to a rectangle about one-inch thick**

About 2 teaspoons sea salt, plus more to taste

About 1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper, plus more to taste

About 10 slices prosciutto, either di Parma or San Daniele

1 cup grated Pecorino Romano cheese

1 cup grated Parmigiano Regiano cheese

3/4 cup currants (yellow raisins)

1/2 cup toasted pinenuts

1/2 cup breadcrumbs

1/3 cup chopped flat-leaf parsley, plus more for the garnish

Rind of 1 lemon, grated

4 tablespoons dried oregano, divided in half

About 1/4 cup extra vigin olive oil

2 large onions, chopped

3 carrots, chopped

8 cloves garlic, minced

2 teaspoons dried red pepper flakes

3 cups dry white wine

Two (28 oz. cans) San Marzano tomatoes, peeled and whole

4 cups Chicken Stock

**NOTE: You could ask your butcher to butterfly and pound out the pork shoulder for you.

Open the pork shoulder out onto a working surface and sprinkle the salt and pepper over the meat.  Make sure you have a dutch oven or heavy bottom sauce pot that is big enough for the length of the pork shoulder to fit in it.  (If not, cut the pork in half.) Lay the prosciutto slices over the meat so that the prosciuotto covers the entire surface.

In a mixing bowl combine the cheeses, currants, pinenuts, breadcrumbs, parsley, grated lemon rind, and 2 tablespoons of the oregano.  Spread this mixture on top of the pork, over the proscuitto layer. Roll the pork up tightly and securely tie with twine. 

In a dutch oven or heavy bottom sauce pot, heat the olive oil over medium high heat until it is translucent.  Add the pork roll, and sear all sides until they are all a golden brown. This will take about 15 minutes in total.  Remove the pork from the pan; set aside.  Add the onions and a pinch of salt.  Sweat the onions until they are translucent, about 5 minutes.  Add the carrots, and cook another 3 minutes.  Add the garlic and red pepper flakes and cook about 1 minute more (do not let the garlic brown).  Place the pork back in the pan. Add the wine and turn the heat to high to deglaze.  Scrap any bits from the bottom of the pan. Add the tomatoes and chicken stock and bring to a boil.  Once it boils, lower the heat to a simmer and cover with a parchment paper circle.  Cook 2 1/2 hours turning the meat every 15 minutes so it doesn't stick to the bottom of the pan.  Remove the meat, cover with foil and let rest for 15 minutes.  While the meat is resting, turn the heat up to low, keep the sauce uncovered and let it reduce a bit.  Slice the meat into 1-inch thick portions and serve with the sauce and a garnish of the chopped parsley.  Buon Appetito!

NOTE: In this case, and to confuse matters further, this roll is really a braciolona (a big braciola), but I called it a braciola initially, so I'll keep it that way. 

 

Related Posts:

Cassata Siciliana

Holiday Dessert Recipes

Snowball Cookies and Christmas Baking Memories

Mom's Slow-Cooked Meat Ragu

Cassatelle alla Siciliana (Fried Sweet Ravioli with Ricotta Cream Filling)

Cannoli Siciliani 

Pignolata (Honey glazed fried dough)

Tiramisu

Eggplant Caponata and Sicilian Market Etiquette

Pasta con le Sarde and Cooking in Palermo 

Good Views and Good Eats in Taormina

Foods Not to Miss in Sicily

 

Involtini di Melanzane - Starter for a Sicilian-Inspired Holiday Dinner

 

 

 

Last weekend we celebrated my cousin Paula's birthdy, and she is also one of my most faithful readers.  For her birthday, she asked me to cook a traditional Italian dinner, meaning we would have antipasti (before meal "snacks" or appetizers), a primo piatto (first plate - usually consisting of a pasta or rice dish or soup), a secondo piatto (second course - the protein course), and a dolce (sweet or dessert).  Since I'm a huge fan of the dolci, I served two desserts, a "pre-dessert" and a main dessert.  In the traditional four-hour Italian dinner, there would also be a contorno (side dish - the vegetable course) which is served along with the main course, but someone (me) forgot to put it in the oven.....oops. Luckily there was enough food, that no one missed it.

 This dinner was especially fun to create, not only was it Italian, but all the dishes sang of the Sicilian flavors, the birthplace of my grandparents.  There was the eggplant, tomato, cheese combination, prevelant throughout the south of Italy.  Salty sea flavors of Sicily, capers and anchovies, were in the pasta.  Pine nuts and currants, that sweet combination from the island, were added to the pork dish.  Dessert was a completely Sicilian affair with granita and the traditional birthday cake from Palermo.  I'm so excited to share this Sicilian-Inspired holiday menu with you. It's a great way to bring a little bit of Italy and Sicily into your holiday dinner, whether that holiday be a birthday or Christmas - or both.

 

 Paula's Italian Birthday Dinner Menu

~ Antipasti ~

Involtini di Melanzane

~ Primo Piatto ~

Spaghetti Siracusana

~ Secondo Piatto ~

Bracioala di Maiale

~ I Dolci ~

Granita di Limone

and

Torta Setteveli

 

Eventually, I will be sharing all the recipes with you, but today I've started with the starter.  Below is the recipe for the Involtini di Melanzane (Eggplant Rolls).  Involtini is Italian term for any food that is rolled, and filled.  You will also see involtini of fish (especially sword fish), beef and veal on many Sicilian menus.  Come back Friday when I'll have the recipe for Torta Setteveli - the birthday cake in Palermo.  I've been wanting to recreate this cake ever since I had it last October. Next Monday, I'll be serving Braciola di Maiale (Braised Rolled Pork Shoulder).  I've provided links to recipes from this menu that I've already shared here on Food Lover's Odyssey: Spaghetti Siracusana and Meyer Lemon Granita. I hope you make the entire dinner for a special occasion, or try one of them to add a little Sicilian flavor to your holidays.

 

 

Involtini di Melanzane
(makes 20 involtini)

3 - 4 eggplants, yielding 20 lengthwise slices ¼-inch thick
2 tablespoons sea salt
About 2 cups olive oil
2 cups Parmigiano-Regiano cheese
1 ½ cups breadcrumbs
¼ cup chopped flat-leaf parsley
Freshly ground black pepper, to taste
10 ounces fresh mozzarella, cut into ½-inch cubes
1 cup tomato sauce (see recipe below)

 

Layer the eggplant slices in a colandar, sprinkling each layer with salt. Cover the top with a paper towel and place something heavy on top of the covered eggplant to help release their juices, which tend to be bitter.  Let sit for 2 hours.  After the 2-hour period, rinse the slices of eggplant with water and pat dry. 

In a large saute pan, add olive oil until it is about 3/4-inch deep.  Heat the olive oil and add some of the slices of eggplant and fry them until they are lightly browned on each side, 2-3 minutes per side.  Take the slices out and drain them on paper towels.  You may have to add more olive oil one or two more times during the frying process.  Make sure to heat the oil before adding the eggplant slices.)

Preheat an oven to 375 F.

Spread about 3/4 cup of the tomato sauce on the bottom of a 9x13-inch baking dish. 

To make the filling, mix together, in a bowl, the grated Parmigiano, breadcrumbs, parsley and pepper.  Reserve 1/4 cup of this filling and set aside.  Take a fried eggplant slices and lay them out on a working surface.  Spread about 2 teaspoons of the filling mixter over each eggplant.  One inch from the top of each eggplant, place 4-5 cubes of the mozzarella.  Roll up the eggplant and place them in the baking dish, with the end part down.  Spread the remaining tomato sauce in a line over the center of the eggplant rolls.  Bake for 10 minutes.  Sprinkle a little of the Parmigiano/breadcrumb mixture and sprinkle over the top where the sauce is.  Bake for another 5 minutes.  Remove from the oven and serve.  Buon Appetito!

 

Tomato Sauce
(makes about 2 cups)

3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
1 small onion, finely diced
1 tablespoon salt, divided in half, plus more to taste
3 cloves garlic, minced
¾ cup white wine
One 28-ounce can San Marzano peeled tomatoes, chopped or crushed by hand and their juices
½ cup basil, chopped

In a saute pan, heat the olive oil.  Add the onions and half the salt and sweat the onions for 3-4 minutes over medium heat, until they are translucent.  Add the garlic and cook a scant minute (don't let the garlic burn).  Add the wine and turn the heat to high to cook off the alcohol.  Add the tomatoes, basil, oregano and remaining salt, and bring to a boil.  Lower to a simmer and cook for 15 minutes.  Taste for seasoning and adjust if necessary.

 

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How do your travels and/or heritage inspire your holiday meals?  What are some of those dishes you have included in Christmas dinners?

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***This post is part of WanderFood Wednesdays - Go on over to the site and check out other posts from more food lovers who travel.

 

 

Related Posts:

Cassata Siciliana

Cannoli alla Siciliana

Torta Setteveli - Seven Veils Cake from Palermo

Holiday Dessert Recipes

Eggplant Caponata and Sicilian Market Etiquette 

Cassatelle alla Siciliane (Sweet Fried Ravioli with Ricotta Cream filling)

Pasta con le Sarde (Pasta with Sardines, Tomato and Wild Fennel Sauce)

The Dish from Sicily: Arancino - Sicilian Fast Food

Good Views and Good Eats in Taormina

Foods Not to Miss in Sicily

Totano Festival and a Weekend in the Aeolian Islands

The Dish from Sicily: Granita

The Dish from Rome: Braised Oxtail - Coda alla Vaccinara

 

Much of the food of Rome is based on cucina povera.  Offal, the quinto quarto, is a huge part of this cuisine.  The quinto, “fifth” quarter of the animal, includes the "lesser" cuts and the innards.  Rich folks took the premier cuts of meat. The poor, making due with what was left, cooked the hell out of these pieces, establishing the cuisine of Rome, that still thrives today. 

 They caressed the flavors from these tough unwanted pieces into dishes as rich as Rome’s history, with layers of flavors running as deep as the ancient cities lying below Rome.  Coda alla Vaccinara (braised oxtail) is one of these dishes.  The tail is slowly cooked, tenderizing the meat, and releasing flavors from the tailbone that give the dish an intense meatiness.

 

 

One August afternoon, I chatted with the chef at Capo di Ferro in Trastevere about La Coda.  I had their version, served as a rich ragu with rigatoni. I became an instant fan.  Over an after-lunch limoncello, the chef told me how he makes it, emphasizing that a main ingredient is patience. The dish requires four hours to cook and a lot of stirring,” he warned.  Well, Rome wasn’t built in a day, so a truly Roman dish should take some time.

This recipe is adapted from Capo di Ferro’s Rigatoni alla Vaccinara. It's delicious by itself, but also a great ragu for pasta.

 

 

 

Roman-Style Braised Oxtail

(serves 4)

1 tablespoon olive oil

2 pounds oxtail, cut into 2-inch sections

1 tablespoon salt

1 small onion, roughly chopped

1/2 carrot, cubed

2 celery stalks, roughly chopped

4 cloves garlic, peeled and halved

1/2 cup red wine

28 ounces tomatoes, peeled and chopped

About 3 cups beef stock

1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

4 cloves

 

In a heavy-bottom saucepot, heat the olive oil.  Season the oxtail pieces with salt, browning each side of the pieces. Remove; set aside.  Add the onions and a pinch of salt to the pan.  Sweat the onions until they are translucent, 5 minutes.  Add the carrots, cooking until tender, about 5 minutes.  Add the celery and garlic. Cook 3 minutes more.  Add the oxtail pieces back to the pot.  Deglaze with the wine over high heat, cooking about 2 minutes.  Add the tomatoes; bring to a boil.  Continue boiling to cook off some of the tomato water. Add the beef stock just to cover the meat, then the pepper and cloves. Bring to a boil.  Once it boils, lower the heat to simmer, cover with a circle of parchment paper, and cook for 4 hours (stirring occasionally).

Once the oxtail is tender, remove the pieces to a serving dish. Cover with aluminum foil; set aside.  Strain the sauce, pressing down on the vegetables to extract all the juices.  Skim all the fat off the top, and pour into a smaller saucepan. Bring to a boil and cook, reducing by 1/4.  Taste for seasoning.  Pour the sauce over the oxtail and serve. Buon Appetito!

 

This post has been entered into the GranTourismo HomeAway Holiday Rentals Travel Blogging Competition.

 

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Gnocchi alla Sorrentina Guest Post at Napoli Unplugged

 

 

During my recent visit to Naples, I was fortunate to meet the awesome couple behind Napoli Unplugged,  American expats that call Naples their home.  Their website is a treasure trove of information on Naples, its history, museums, events, and transportation information, all helping to make it easier to plan and navigate your way in Naples and the surrounding Amalfi Coast.  Not only was their website useful for planning my visit, but Bonnie treated me with a personal tour of some of the sites suggested walks.  Now that I've returned, every morning I check their daily photo blog, see the beauty of Naples through their eyes, and make a virtual revisit to Napoli.

I was honored when they asked me to write a guest post about one of my favorite foods of the Campania region.  I picked one of my favorite Italian pasta dishes, and one that highlights the best of the ingredients of the region.  You can find the recipe and a little of my reminiscing about Sorrento here: Gnocchi alla Sorrentina.

Pasta all' Amatriciana - A Roman Treat

Amatriciana sauce has five ingredients, not including salt and pepper. To make a good sauce, it’s all about the quality of these 5 ingredients. However, now I find myself back in the States trying to recreate my favorite Roman pasta with un-Roman ingredients. Even before I leave to buy the ingredients, I start my rant about the quality of products in the US vs. Italy. This happens every time I return from Italy. I start on the stores and their "sub par" products. The farmers' markets have good tomatoes, not quite as sweet as San Marzano, but I can manage. I live in a small suburb outside of San Francisco, so I have to drive a good 40 minutes to Berkeley, San Francisco, or the Napa Valley to find a good cheese shop and butcher, for the guanciale (cured pork jowl). After a long morning shopping, I return grumbling about how in every small town in Italy there is a butcher, salumeria, cheese shop, market etc. and here, “One has to drive over half an hour and sometimes to more than one town to get a measly five quasi-quality ingredients!” My tirade ends with, “I can’t live in this country, Ufff!” (Friends and family have come to ignore my "I miss Italy" rants.)

This is exactly what happened the day I decided to make amatriciana sauce. I returned in a huff after my 4-hour shopping spree. I snagged ingredients out of the bags. I sliced, chopped, grated, prepped and grumbled the entire time. Twenty minutes later, the dish was ready. After one, maybe two, bites I was no longer in the US. I was dining al fresco, on a white-clothed table with its legs wobbling on the ancient cobble-stoned street. I forgot all about my previous grumblings and devoured my pasta.

Like I said, it’s all about the ingredients, and with a little effort, I guess (grumble grumble) you can find them here in the US. What really makes this dish is the guanciale. Guanciale is cured pork jowl. You cannot substitute it, and it can’t be smoked—only cured. Some people, not Romans, use pancetta as a substitute, but the guanciale is sweeter, fatter, and has a more delicate and less salty taste than pancetta (cured pork belly). It melts as you heat it in the pan, and the rendered fat transports the jowl's unique flavor throughout the dish. Touching each piece of pasta and spoonful of sauce with it's sweet and salty magic. Substituting it, changes the dish altogether, and should be considered a mortal sin.

The sweetness of the tomatoes is also important. Because we are at the peak of tomato season, the tomatoes were sweet and flavorful. I would use canned, peeled tomatoes out of season. San Marzano are the best, and outrageously priced here. (Oh, am I still grumbling?) Purists would never add onion, but many places in Rome do. I like the flavor it adds to the dish, so I've added it here in this recipe.

A note on finding guanciale: I found mine at the Fatted Calf Charcuterie in Napa, James from Wandering Italy also recommends Dave the Butcher at Avedano’s in San Francisco. Michael Ruhlman recently posted, Artisan Butchers, on his blog and added a list of "artisan" butchers to the post from readers' comments (for those of you outside the Northern California area).

I hope you try making it at home, and take yourself straight to Rome. It also might make your return from Rome easier to tolerate.

Pasta all’ Amatriciana

(Makes 4 servings)

1 Tablespoon olive oil

8 ounces (225 g) Guanciale (cured pork jowl – do not use smoked)

1/2 medium-sized onion, diced

About 1 teaspoon salt, plus more to taste

Half of a chili pepper, finely diced or 1 teaspoon red pepper flakes

1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper, plus more to taste

1/2 cup white wine

24 ounces peeled tomatoes, chopped or hand-crushed

1 cup grated Pecorino Romano cheese

1 pound dried pasta (bucatini, spaghetti, penne, rigatoni)

Bring about 6 cups of well-salted water to a boil.

Add the olive oil and guanciale. Cook on medium heat about 5 minutes, until the fat starts to melt and the meat becomes translucent. Remove the guanciale and drain all but about 2 tablespoons of the fat. Add the onions and salt. Sweat the onions until they are translucent, about 3 minutes, adding the chili pepper and freshly ground black pepper one minute before they are done. Add the white wine, and deglaze on high heat until the alcohol has evaporated, about 2 minutes. Add the tomatoes, bring to a boil, then simmer on low until you have a pretty thick sauce, about 10 minutes. (If the sauce gets too thick, add a few tablespoons of the pasta water to loosen it.) Add the guanciale and heat through. Taste for seasoning and add more salt and pepper, if needed.

While the sauce is cooking, add the pasta to the boiling water and cook until al dente, about 8-10 minutes for dry pasta. Drain the pasta (saving the pasta water in case you need it to loosen the sauce) and add the pasta to the sauce. Toss the sauce and the pasta together for 1 to 2 minutes over the heat. Remove from the heat and add the cheese. Add more cheese to garnish. Buon Appetito!

Related Posts:

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Slow-Cooked Meat Ragu to Honor Mom

Cacio e Pepe Inspired by Roma Sparita

 

 

 

I just returned from five weeks of eating my way through Italy….again. My last stop was Rome, one of my favorite food cities. I planned every pasta, secondo, snack and gelato I’d eat before my train pulled into Rome’s Termini station.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Wherever I’m eating in Italy, but especially Rome, I’m the eager diner with 21 questions about how the dish is made, ingredients, temperatures, etc. When the place is less crowded and a family-run business, they love my enthusiasm for the food and answer all questions with a smile. When it’s crowded, well, the waiters blow by my table before I can say, “scusi.” My mission this trip: Eat enough and ask loads of questions, so I could recreate my favorite Roman pasta dishes. After many questions and great conversations, I was ready to get cooking.

Not only that, when I got home, Anthony Bourdain’s No Reservation’s was in Rome. While many of you were watching the fight scene and trying to read along with the subtitles (you know who you are), I had my eyes firmly fixed on the happenings in the kitchen.

 

 

 

 

 

Cacio e Pepe (Cheese and Pepper) is a classic dish. It’s the simplest Roman pasta to make – you need pasta water, Pecorino Romano cheese, freshly ground pepper, and maybe a little butter. When in Rome, you should try it, at least once. Ask any Roman where to go for some of the best Cacio e Pepe, and they’ll tell you Roma Sparita. To make things even better, we had a back-kitchen pass to see the chef make it on No Reservations Rome.

The recipe below is inspired by Roma Sparita’s version of Cacio e Pepe, right down to serving it in the Parmigiano bowl. Purists beware - butter is in this recipe. It’s not in the classical version, but the chef at Roma Sparita put it in. (He added it before the pepper.) I’m sure the butter helps to more easily create the creaminess of the cheese “sauce,” not really a sauce but a cheesy coating. The quantities below are based on what I saw (a handful here, a ladle there); the results - a silky, salty and cheesey coating on each strand of pasta. With each forkful, the flecks of pepper cling to the cheese and add some heat.

 

 

 

 

 

This week, and maybe much of next, is dedicated to Rome. The blog won’t be in black and white (maybe I’ll pay a short homage to Bourdain and Fellini), and you won’t hear me talk about any angst, alienation, or existential B.S. Here, on the blog, instead I'll be celebrating all that I love about the Eternal City - recreating what I ate, and dishing about some of my favorite finds (food and otherwise).

 

 

Cacio e Pepe alla Roma Sparita

(Serves 2 people)

Half pound spaghetti

About 6 cups well-salted boiling water

For the “sauce”:

About 1 1/2 cups (2 large ladles) boiling pasta water

1 tablespoon freshly, coarsely grated pepper, plus more for garnish

2 tablespoons butter

1 3/4 cups grated Pecorino Romano cheese, plus more for garnish

For the Parmesan bowl:

3/4 cup grated Parmigiano Regiano cheese

 

To make the Parmesan bowl, spread a very thin layer of the cheese onto a slightly warmed non-stick pan in the form of a circle, about six inches in diameter. (The cheese should slowly start to melt when you place it into the pan.) Cook for 3-4 minutes, until the cheese is bubbling. Using a spatula, slide the cheese circle out of the pan and onto a turned over bowl. (To create a pretty bowl like that at Roma Sparita, it’s best to use a mold/bowl that’s not higher than 2 inches, letting the excess fan out with creases at the edges.) Use tongs to press the cheese, only while it’s hot, down or out, as you like. Cool while you make the pasta.

Cook the pasta according to the directions for that brand. When the pasta is not quite cooked, about 3 minutes before you would normally take it out of the water, add the boiling pasta water, the butter and the pepper to a hot saute pan. Add the drained pasta to the pan and toss through the water mixture until the pasta absorbs almost all of the water. Remove from the heat, and add the grated cheese to the pasta. Quickly stir the cheese into the pasta. Place into the Parmesan cup and garnish with more grated cheese and freshly grated pepper, to taste. Buon Appetito!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Related Posts:

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Pugliese Pasta and Making Pasta by Hand: A Lesson with Nonna Vata

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Potato Gnocchi for Gnocchi Giovedi in Rome

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Slow Cooked Meat Ragu to Honor Mom

 

  

Today is Mother’s Day in the U.S.  It’s a day to honor and thank our moms. We try to find a way to say thank you to mom for all she did, does, and will do for us.  

  

I know my mom deserved much more than a gift once a year for all she did for my siblings and me.  To say that we were brats is like saying the ash cloud from Iceland’s volcano was a puff of smoke.  She had to intervene on spaghetti throwing battles, fist-fights over ping-pong games, daily arguments over the TV, a clash over who got to play with the inflatable Santa Claus (yes, my mom took her anger out on poor Santa, jumping up and down on him, deflating him and leaving us searching for something else to fight about).  We would run away from her when she disciplined us.  I remember climbing the tree because she couldn’t climb it.  To no avail, she squirted me with water to bring me down.  Instead I stayed in the tree, dripping wet, and lauging.  The list is as infinite as her patience with us was.  She deserved an entire year dedicated to her just for our childhood years.  There should be a Mother's Decade to honor her for our teenage years.

  

My mom passed away almost 7 years ago, so Mother's Day is now a celebration of memories instead of the giving of gifts.  My greatest memories are of my mom cooking.  We had a home-cooked dinner every day.  She preferred baking, but only did that for special occasions, like Christmas cookies and birthdays.  For our birthdays, the birthday girl/boy would get to pick the dessert.  For mine, I always chose a chocolate cake with chocolate pudding in between each layer, whipped cream icing and chocolate shavings.  One of my friends, who remembers this from my birthday parties, requests this cake from me over any of the French pastries I now make.   Mom started me on the food lover's odyssey long ago.  She didn't chase me out of the kitchen and instead, let me watch, learn and eventually help bring joy to others through her cooking.

  

I still get requests for her chocolate cream pie, assortment of Christmas cookies, cream puffs, ravioli, spiedini, meatballs and more.  One of the most popular requests, though, is for one of the easiest things--her "spaghetti sauce."   Spaghetti and homemade meat sauce was a weekly dish in our house.  "Store-bought ragu” and “Boyardee” could have been Chinese words they were so foreign to me.    She would slow cook the sauce all day long, making extra because we snacked on it throughout the day, digging out spoonfuls and pouring it on chunks of bread. 

  

  

When I tell someone how to make it, they don't believe that it's her "secret" recipe. The secret is that there is no recipe.  She would throw the items together, eyeballing whether it needed more meat, more tomatoes, more liquid (she didn't use stock).  When I'd give them the recipe, I'd say 1-2 cans of this, about 2-3 cups of that, etc.   

  

  

Today, in honor of my mom I’m giving you her recipe.  This is the first time it has been written down and captured into specific quantities---well, more or less--with just a few adjustments (stock instead of water).  Happy Mother’s Day to all the moms out there!

  

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What food or dish reminds you of your mom and her cooking?

 

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Mamma’s Meat Ragu

(makes about 1 quart)

  

1 1/2 pounds ground beef

About 1/4 cup olive oil

1 onion, diced

1/2 carrot, finely diced

7 cloves of garlic, finely diced

1 can (15 oz/170 g) diced tomatoes

1 small can (6 oz/415 g) tomato paste

2 tablespoons dried Italian seasoning (oregano, parsley, basil)

1/4 teaspoon red pepper flakes (optional)

1/2 cup (105 ml) red wine

1 large can (28oz/794g) crushed tomatoes

About 3 cups (625 ml) chicken stock

1 tablespoon salt, plus more to taste

Freshly ground pepper, to taste

Brown the ground beef in a saucepot with a heavy bottom.  Remove and drain off any excess water; set aside.  Heat the olive oil and add the onions.   Sweat the onions until they are translucent, about 3 minutes.  Add the carrot and cook another 2-3 minutes.  Add the garlic and cook about 1 minute.  Add the tomato paste, Italian seasoning, and red pepper flakes if you want a little spice to the sauce.  Cook about 1 minute to toast.  Turn the heat to high and add the red wine to deglaze, scraping any bits from the bottom.  Add the crushed tomatoes, chicken stock, 1 tablespoon of salt and pepper to taste.  Bring to a boil, then lower to just a simmer.  Cook uncovered on simmer for 3-4 hours, stirring about every 30 minutes.  (The heat should be so that the sauce bubbles only every few seconds.)  Serve with pasta.  Buon Appetito!! 

 

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Asparagus and Lemon Risotto

 

Spring is here and in full force in California!  I'm really not rubbing it in, just rejoicing.  See, I’m not a cold weather, gray sky, rainy day kind of person.  I look at winter as a necessary evil in the circle of the seasons, one I wish lasted only a month.  Grumpy the entire winter, I snarl at those people who claim to "love the rain and cold weather, cuddled up, sitting by the fire...blah, blah, blah."  What is fun about short sunless days, barren trees, and freezing temperatures?  

 

After a month of shivering under layers of clothes, being pelted by rain and ruining outfits and shoes because some car decided I looked better wearing muddy water than the street did, I'm crying for longer brighter days, blossoms, tulips and warmer weather.  (Could you imagine if I lived where it really got cold--rarely below 40F here--and snowed?!!)  No more whining from me because spring is here.....finally.  We’ve had a full week of warm weather, and sunny days with daylight lasting past 7pm. 

 

The weather and temperature aren’t the only reasons I look forward to spring.  There’s also the food, especially asparagus.  I can’t tell you why I love it so, I just do.  Maybe it’s the color that reminds me the earth is coming back to life from its wintry death.  It's my favorite spring vegetable food, and I’ve been known to eat only roasted asparagus for lunch and dinner throughout its short season.  Once, while eating my asparagus meal, one of my Atkins-loving friends told me I didn’t have any protein on my plate.  I said nothing, got up, got some Parmesan cheese, grated it over my roasted asparagus, smiled, and continued feasting.  I don't think that's what she meant, but it left her with no comeback, and I finished my asparagus in peace.

 

Aspragus is popular and even celebrated in Italy, where there are green, white and even purple varieties of asparagus.  In Bassano del Grappo, near Venice, they celebrate white asparagus in a yearly festival lasting several weeks.  Restaurants showcase their latest asparagus creations, some with all asparagus courses--including dessert.  There are parties, tastings, and competitions.

 

To celebrate the gorgeous weather and my own love for this spring vegetable, I made an asparagus and lemon risotto.  And, in case you, or a nagging pro-protein friend, are concerned, you have all food groups in this one dish....veggies, starch, fat, protein (the Parmesan), and the lemon adds a little fruit.  I'm going to sit out in the sun, smell the flowers, think of Italy, and enjoy my risotto agli asparagi e limone.  Hope you do the same and have a happy spring Friday everyone!

 

 

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What is your favorite spring dish? Your favorite asparagus or risotto dish?

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Lemon Asparagus Risotto

(Makes 4 to 6 servings)

 

About 1 pound (500 g) asparagus, the tough ends removed

4 tablespoons butter

3 tablespoons olive oil

1 small onion or half a medium-sized onion, finely diced

1 tablespoon salt, plus more to taste

2 1/4 cups (400 g) Arborio rice

About 5 cups vegetable stock

1/4 cup (35 ml) lemon juice

3 tablespoons lemon zest, plus more for garnish

1 cup (125 g) grated Parmesan cheese, plus more for garnish

 

In a large saucepot, bring about 4 cups of salted water to a boil.  Add the asparagus.  Bring back to a boil and cook 3 to 5 minutes, depending on the thickness of the asparagus.  Remove the asparagus from the water and drop into cold water to stop the cooking.  Remove, drain and slice into 3/4-inch pieces.  Set the asparagus tops to the side.

 

Meanwhile, in a saucepan, bring the stock to a boil, then turn down to simmer.  In a sauté pan, over medium heat, heat half the butter and the olive oil.  Add the onions and about 1/2 teaspoon of salt and sweat about 3 minutes, until the onions are translucent.  Add the rice and stir to coat each kernel with some of the fat.  Add the remaining salt and toast the rice for about 3 minutes; the edges of the rice should be translucent. 

 

One ladle at a time, add the stock.  Over medium-low heat, gently stir the stock into the rice.  Once the rice has absorbed all the stock, add another ladle.  (If you run the spoon through the rice, you will be left only with a creamy residue; this is how you know the rice is ready for more stock.) Continue this process for about 12 minutes. 

 

Add the sliced asparagus, except for the tops, to the rice mixture, and continue adding ladles of stock for about 3 minutes more, until the rice is al dente.  Before adding the last ladle of stock to the rice mixture, add the lemon juice to it to heat the lemon juice.  Add the heated stock and lemon juice to the rice.  Add the lemon zest and stir, evenly incorporating it throughout the rice.  Turn off the heat.  Add the remaining butter and Parmesan cheese.  Taste and add more salt, if necessary.  Before serving, garnish with the asparagus tops, grated Parmesan cheese, and lemon zest.  Buon Appetito!