Pasta alla Norma

I often think of Sicily, though I've never been there.  From scenes of Corleone in the Godfathers (scenes I think were actually shot in Savoca on the other side of the island), to books on the burgeoning scene of reactionary wine makers going back to contadino roots, I really want make a trip of it some day.  For now though, I keep reading up and drinking the island's biodynamic wines, allowing me to sip what Sicily might taste and smell like, now or 50 years ago.

Norma's pasta is comprised of elements you'd find from Rome to Tunisia, but in the romantic way Italians like to identify time honored dishes, it's an ode to Bellini's heroine from the opera of the same name.  I won't pretend to know much about that though. I used to think it was called pasta all nonna (grandmother), which would have probably had a nicer back story for me, but maybe some day I'll be more into opera.    

Anyway, something kind of wonderful happens when the strands of pasta, just thinly coated with tomato in my version, dance in your mouth with the bitter/sweet fried eggplant and the bold creaminess of good ricotta salata, or fresh feta, which I used.

My advice would be to get smaller eggplants, Japanese, graffiti, something without too many seeds.  And, for me at least, good ricotta salata can be hard to come by around the shire...the brands I often find are chalky and dry, not akin to my fond recollections of what it should be, which is a little moist and not too crumbly.  So I opted for a fresh goat's milk feta recently, which I thought worked beautifully; tangy and salty, a little going a long way.  Look for fresh stuff, often packaged in brine.

Fry eggplant, 3 smallish ones, in the usual way: cut them, skin on, into 1 inch cubes, toss with an abundant amount of salt, and lay them out on something perforated, or in a colander, for instance, for 45-90 minutes so that some of the brown water drains out.  Then rinse them with cold water and pat dry to eradicate any excess liquid.  Heat 1 1/2 to 2 inches of frying oil of your choice in a heavy pot, and fry the eggplant, in batches, until golden brown, then drain on absorbent paper.  You shouldn't need to salt them since they retain some from the initial salting, but season as you feel necessary.

Make a quick tomato sauce by sauteing 2 medium cloves of garlic, thinly sliced or minced, in abundant olive oil (I don't know a measurement, so I'll say like 4 full gyrations of the bottle into the fry pan) with a few pinches of hot pepper flakes, and before the cloves even begin to brown, add 1 32 oz. can San Marzano tomatoes, by hand, separating the whole pieces and breaking them up, reserving the excess liquid.  If you like a saucy sauce, something that will coat the pasta to a degree beyond salad dressing to greens, then add the tomato liquid previously reserved (remember though that you can increase sauciness at the end of the dish with pasta water).  This only needs to cook 15-20 minutes, then season to taste with salt, and pepper if you like.

Cook 1 lb. of pasta in well salted water (almost any kind of dried pasta will work except for really small shapes), and when al dente, toss in the pan in which you made the sauce, or in a serving bowl to coat, adding pasta water if necessary, for the right consistency.  Throw in a good handful of fresh basil, torn by hand, and some glugs of extra virgin olive oil for good measure.  Then either gently fold the delicate eggplant into the pasta, or just serve it atop each plating, allowing the diners to mix it in themselves.  Grate or crumble ricotta salata or feta on top and serve.

Thinking About Nusco: White Bean & Escarole Soup with Spicy Polenta

I often think about my stint at La Locanda di Bu...It was this exact time of year in 2005, days after I'd rung in the new year back home in the States.  Jetted off to Italy, right into my first "stage" in a town I had never heard of before, some damn place about sixty miles due east of Napoli.  Little did I know that the hills of Irpinia, on which the little hamlet of Nusco is perched, are nothing like the sunny and palm tree replete scenery of the coast.  To be fair it was winter when I arrived, and apparently the worst one in fifty years for Europe.  It snowed pretty much every week of January and February, making it impossible for patrons to undertake the hike required to come from more populated places to the little forty seater Chef/Owner Antonio Pisaniello runs.   

Being snowed in with nowhere to go more often than not, coupled with my work for food and board arrangement, not much else to do but be in the kitchen.  It was tough to be so isolated, lacking the freedom of movement I am so used to back home, and I never got used to it.  An overnight to Rome between storms seemed like an escape from prison.  But the experience was a good one, mostly in hindsight; incredibly fruitful in learning about the kitchen, the principles of that area's cooking, and southern Italian culture.  I realize now how fortunate I am to have done that in my lifetime, because it was a profound experience, something I'll never forget. 

Toward the end of my Winter in Nusco, all of us from La Locanda went up to Rome, paid for by wine producer Mastroberardino, to cater a wine and dine event showcasing what Irpinia had to offer in those respects.  We were set up at the Cittá del Gusto, which is a big event center run by Gambero Rosso, who, in Italy, is the equivalent of Zagat, Bon Appétit and Wine Spectator rolled into one.

The dish I am talking about here was our restaurant's primo course for the evening.  It was an interesting concept because polenta is not historically a part of southern Italian food.  But it was signature Locanda di Bu in the application of the ingredients, the simplicity but expert marriage of flavors and textures.  Despite not requiring any serious technique, it does involve several steps and separate elements eventually brought together, but it is easily manageable.            

        

'Tonino is a great chef; creative, ballsy and deeply connected to the land from which he derives his cuisine.  What strikes me about his dishes is the paucity of ingredients he uses.  When you get things like ridiculously fresh mozzarella and ricotta, animals raised by people you know personally and produce that's almost exclusively local, it makes so much sense.  But we urbanites and suburbanites here have access to increasingly good products, so we can come close with the right amount of restraint and technique to create dishes that are almost as satisfying.

Chef and I had our differences, stemming primarily from my lack of credentials in the kitchen and my culture shock, but toward the end of the experience I was able to show him that I had absorbed a lot of what I was immersed in.

The recipe from bonappetit.com

Notes on the recipe: I feel fairly certain that when we executed this dish in Rome the beans were completely pureed.  That will yield something like the picture above, but you can partially puree or not puree anything, as the linked recipe suggests.  Whatever you do with the beans, keep the escarole in whole form.    

As for the polenta, in Italy we used and the recipe calls for the instant kind.  I almost never use it, just because.  Real polenta will take significantly longer than the five minute instant kind, but don't be fooled into the myth that it needs to be stirred incessantly like the rice in risotto.  In fact, once you've whisked the cornmeal into the liquid and prevented lumps from forming, just leave it be on the lowest heat setting you can, adding and stirring a ladle of liquid in every ten minutes or so, and let it go.  It can stay like that for an hour or three hours without any problems, in the background while you do other things.  Just make some extra prosciutto broth the recipe calls for.   

Age Old Cure For Cauliflower Ear: Cauli Soup

I'm big on what I consider "essence" soups...derived from few ingredients, intended to let the natural flavor of the primary element shine through.  When designed around vegetables, it usually means cooking with dry heat to concentrate flavors, then liquefying with mild vegetable stock, and pureeing to finish so as to give the impression of a cream without actually adding any dairy. 

In this recipe it's the mild but distinct flavor of cauliflower, with a small amount of potato added for body, along with an apple thrown in for a just discernible touch of sweetness.  Whereas you could take it to another level with some spices reminiscent of faraway lands, or some actual cream, I like the close-to-the-earth simplicity of this method.  I do often garnish such soups with some game changer though, like polenta croutons with squash soup, and in this case I used some American bacon.  It obviously tastes good, but I suggest having a light hand with it, otherwise the abundant flavor will mute the delicate cauli it's really all about.  Try some nice crusty bread though since this is a full bodied recipe and requires some zopping.  You'll probably find the consistency is quite hearty per this recipe, so it can easily double as a sauce served with a protein for a complete meal.        

  

Ingredients:

2 medium heads cauliflower

1 onion

1 apple (granny smith or something good for baking)

1 lb. potatoes

3-4 sprigs fresh thyme

About 2 liters vegetable stock, recipe follows

Extra virgin olive oil

Salt and pepper to taste

Optional: 1/2 lb. bacon, cooked and roughly chopped

Preheat the oven to 400 F.  Heat the vegetable stock to a simmer in a pot.

Trim the green stalks and leaves off the cauliflower, then roughly chop the florets and hearts into pieces and place in a large mixing bowl big enough for it, the onion and the apple.  Cut the onion into segments and add to the bowl, along with the apple, peeled, cored and roughly cut into segments.

 Toss in a bowl with enough olive oil to coat and salt and pepper to taste.  Turn out onto baking sheet(s) in an even layer without overcrowding, and cook in the oven 30 minutes, until the edges of the cauliflower are brown and everything is tender.

Peel the potatoes and cut into 1/2" dice.  Heat olive oil to coat the bottom of a medium or large saucepan over medium high heat.  When the oil shimmers, add the potatoes and 1/2 the thyme leaves, and let cook a couple minutes to release the fragrance of the thyme. 

Add the ingredients from the baking sheets and then begin ladling stock to just cover everything.  Cook about 10 minutes at a gentle boil, or until the potatoes are tender.  

Transfer everything to a blender, in batches if necessary, and puree, adding stock as needed to achieve the desired consistency.  Season to taste with salt and pepper.  Return the puree to the saucepan and heat through.  Serve with some fresh thyme leaves for garnish, some crusty bread and/or pieces of bacon.

Vegetable Stock:
1 onion, peeled and quartered
2 ribs celery, cut into a couple pieces each
2 carrots, peeled and cut into a couple pieces each
A few whole peppercorns
Salt to taste

Place the vegetables and peppercorns in a large pot and fill almost to the rim with water. Bring just to a boil, then lower to a gentle simmer. Let it cook an hour, more if you'd like, then season to taste with salt. Can be stored several weeks in a refrigerator or several months in a freezer.

Autumnal Sunday Dinner: Pork Shoulder Porchettata

I know it seems like whenever I propose a meat dish, it's something involving pork shoulder.  But I don't think I'm getting repetitive yet, so I'll keep going.  I'll take slow cooked pork cuts like belly and shoulder over a beef steak six days out of seven.  In so doing I pay $4.99 to $6.99 a pound or so instead of $15.99 to $19.99 a pound to feed myself and others, and enjoy the layers of flavor from slow cooking.  I actually worry now that "lesser cuts" like pork belly and shoulder and beef short ribs are becoming the in meats such that their prices will skyrocket as consumers demand more of them and leave loins and steaks on the shelves.  We'll see.

I've already gone into what porchetta means to me and along that train of thought this is a dish that feels right in the first chills of Autumn...aromatically roasted meat, vegetables cooked underneath so as to gather the drippings and obtain wonderfully browned edges.  "Porchettata" meaning in the way of porchetta, involving fennel and garlic.  I threw in some grapes to this recipe, befitting harvest time in wine countries everywhere, and cooked with the whole they added a welcome sweetness and acidity to the sauce derived from the bottom of the pan.  The sauce is the culmination of the roasted vegetables and what they catch from the meat as it oozes fat and juices that carry the seasonings with them.  

For the Meat:
1 4 lb. pork shoulder, butterflied by your butcher if possible, otherwise directions below
1 teaspoon fennel pollen or fennel seeds
1 teaspoon black pepper corns
1 teaspoon coriander seeds
2 medium cloves garlic
2 sprigs rosemary
1 tablespoon salt
1-2 tablespoons white wine
Baker's twine

For the Vegetables/Sauce:
2 onions, peeled and cut into eighths
2 lbs. carrots, peeled and cut into 2 inch segments
1 lb. celery, cut into 2 inch segments
2 lbs. potatoes - fingerling, red, yukons, whichever you prefer for roasting, partially peeled and cut into pieces equivalent to the other vegetables
1 lb. grapes, preferably seedless - can be wine grapes or table grapes
2 sprigs of rosemary
2 cups or so stock, plus another 2 or so for the sauce (recipe for veg stock below, or use a good meat stock, homemade if possible!)
1 cup or so white wine
Extra Virgin Olive Oil
Salt and pepper to taste

To butterfly the meat yourself, get a very sharp knife, preferably one for filleting, and make an incision about an inch above the surface you're cutting on from one end of the piece of meat to the other, about an inch deep.  You want to basically unfurl this hunk of meat into a slab, so continue to slice across the piece of meat from that first cut while pulling the rest away from you as you'd unroll a rug.  What you should end up with is a rectangular slab of meat, roughly an inch thickness at every part.  It's ok if there are areas thicker or thinner, even some holes are fine.  You can pound the meat if you'd like to make it more uniform and/or tenderize, but it's not imperative.

Make the paste by grinding the rest of the meat ingredients except the wine in a spice grinder.  Then

mix in a bowl with the wine to form a
rough paste.  Take the paste and smear it all over the surface of the meat, covering as much as possible.

No need to massage or really work it in, although you could and let it marinate overnight.  Roll the meat up and tie off every couple inches with twine to secure it like a jelly roll.  Season the outside liberally with salt and pepper.

Preheat a convection oven to 275° F or a conventional oven to 300° F. 

Place the carrots, celery, onions, grapes and rosemary in the bottom of a deep and heavy roasting pan, season with salt and pepper, and toss with olive oil to coat.  Add enough stock and wine to cover the bottom of the pan and come maybe half way up the vegetables.  Place the meat on a rack suspended above the vegetables if possible.  Otherwise just rest it on top.

Roast in the oven 2-2 1/2 hours, then remove from the oven and add the potatoes, and a little stock if the pan is dry (it's ok if in the first couple hours the liquid evaporates and there's deep coloration, that'll be good for flavor and the sauce).  

Continue to cook another hour, then remove the meat from the pan (it should be nicely browned, fat cap crispy).  Tenting will take some crispiness away from the outside edges, but it's good if you're not serving the meat immediately.

Remove all the potatoes and some of the vegetables and grapes from the pan (enough to make a contorno for everyone).  Then place the roasting pan over a burner at medium high heat until the juices begin to sizzle.  Add some stock to deglaze, and using a spoon, loosen up all the browned bits stuck to the bottom and sides.

Transfer the contents to a blender and puree, adding stock to your preference to achieve the desired consistency.  Place back in a saucepan to heat through for serving. 

Slice the meat into half inch thick pieces and serve over a bed of puree, with the potatoes and vegetables on the side. 

Vegetable Stock:
1 onion, peeled and quartered
2 ribs celery, cut into a couple pieces each
2 carrots, peeled and cut into a couple pieces each
A few whole peppercorns
Salt to taste

Place the vegetables and peppercorns in a large pot and fill almost to the rim with water.  Bring just to a boil, then lower to a gentle simmer.  Let it cook an hour, more if you'd like, then season to taste with salt.  Can be stored several weeks in a refrigerator or several months in a freezer.

Stretching Leftovers Into Week Two (Maybe): Arancini

At the Zeoli household when risotto is made there are inevitable leftovers in significant quantity...even chipped away at for days afterward, a good portion remains.  Still perfectly serviceable, this aged food is often taken for granted, pushed further and further to the back of the fridge to may way for fresher things.  But there's a much better end to risotto's life cycle and it involves a pretty quick treatment, virtually reinventing and assuring it gets eaten quickly.

Arancini mean little oranges, so called because they are the shape, size and color of the fruit that drop from tress along sidewalks of many warm European cities...perhaps planted for the bonus effect of preventing scurvy among the gypsy population.  In Sicilian tradition they are filled with meat ragu and mozzarella.  In Rome they're called suppli, and more often than not shaped like croquettes, filled with prosciutto, mozz and peas.

I say maybe they'll last into week two in the title because breaded fried foods seem to trigger a human impulse to continue eating beyond normal satiation, so once made these may not last long at all.  So even though these are quite satisfying and not exactly light, I find that I can just keep eating them, knowing they don't get better than a minute or two out of the hot oil.

The batch of risotto which we used to make the balls pictured here was a simple one of grape tomatoes and mozzarella, basically a risotto "caprese".  Conveniently, the mozzarella was already there for us, and the tomatoes added a nice touch of sweet and tart to the end result.

Fried rice balls can really be made with any type of risotto I can think of, as long as, after sitting several hours or overnight, it becomes tight and easy to mold.  You can simply take the leftovers, form them and fry, or you can stuff them with new ingredients like melty cheese, meats, etc.  Even a seafood risotto would make for some good arancini, for instance.    

Not that there's a law I know of stating fried rice balls must be made from a batch of risotto previously consumed in original form...arancini can be the intended result from the beginning, just give the rice several hours in the fridge to firm up after initial cooking.  You can also do this with farrotto, or farro cooked in the method of risotto, for an earthier and healthier rendition.  

Ingredients:

A portion of risotto already made (at least 2 cups worth of leftovers I'd say)
Optional: favorite cheese to stuff the balls with, preferable one that melts well, as well as diced prosciutto, ham, bacon, etc. or leftover meat sauce
Bread Crumbs: for 2 cups of risotto, 1 cup bread crumbs and go from there
Eggs: for 2 cups of risotto, 2 eggs and go from there
1/2 to 1 liter oil for frying
Salt to taste

Take the risotto straight from the fridge and form into balls; the size of a clementine or small orange works well.  If you're stuffing them, take your finger and press into the ball, making an indentation in which to place stuffing, then close the ball up around it.  Dip the balls into the egg wash to coat, draining excess, then roll around in the bread crumbs.  Set aside on a sheet tray until all the risotto is used up.

Heat the oil in a heavy bottom pot to 375° F or until a small bit of the risotto sizzles and floats to the surface.  There should be enough oil to cover the balls by 2/3 at least.  Gently place the arancini in the oil, a few at a time so as not to overcrowd the pot, and fry, turning once or twice for even cooking, about 5 minutes overall.  Drain to a sheet pan with absorbent paper and season with salt.

Serve immediately and watch them disappear.