Carmelita’s Cookitaly

Zuppa Inglese

   

Emilia-Romagna's favourite sweet

This custard concoction of sunny cheerful colours is the most popular traditional dessert here, loved throughout the region: from Emilia, spreading west of Bologna, to Romagna to its east and of course in Bologna itself. It is now found in other regions too but nowhere else does it appear without fail on every restaurant menu. That this is its home and its place of origin is, for once, not contested.

The story goes that it originated sometime in the course of the 1500s in the kitchens of the rulers of Ferrara at the time, the Dukes of the Este family. They were leading patrons of the arts and under their rule in the Renaissance period the city enjoyed a long period of intense cultural and artistic activity. Besides encouraging musicians, poets and painters the Este family engaged in diplomatic activity to develop and maintain good relations with other powerful ruling families in Italy and in Europe. It is said that a courtier returning from diplomatic duties in England described a popular sweet served at the end of the banquets at the English court, the sweet today known as "trifle". He described its layers of custard, sponge and cream and the cooks of the Este court created the Zuppa Inglese inspired by his description.

This story does not entirely hold water as it would seem that the various dainty "little trifles" served in 16th and 17th century England had no trace of sponge cake. But it makes a pretty tale and suggests a plausible explanation of why the sweet is described as "Inglese", in other words, English.

Then there is the "Zuppa" part, which often confuses non-Italian speakers. The Italian verb "inzuppare" means "to dunk" or "to dip" or more generally to moisten something dry with some form of liquid. In this sweet, as in the much newer invention Tiramisù, sponge cake or lady finger biscuits are dipped into a liquid, making the resulting sweet a "zuppa".

There are savoury "Zuppe" too, usually thick stews of fish or meat served on a slice of toasted bread or else chunky soups containing cereals and legumes. The thing to remember is that the word "zuppa" in Italian does not translate as soup, and that it is often used to describe desserts.

But enough, on to the recipe for Italy's famous Zuppa, the "English" one from Emilia-Romagna.

 Zuppa Inglese

For 6 people you will need:

300g of lady finger biscuits ("Savoiardi") (10 and a half ounces or as many as fit in your container)

120g (4 ounces) sugar

30g (an ounce) flour 

500ml (a pint) milk 

5 egg yolks  

a vanilla pod (optional, but makes it special) 

50g (scant two ounces) chopped 70% cocoa chocolate 

a glass (cup) each of water and Alchermes liqueur  

(or substitute a liqueur of your choice or a diluted strawberry syrup for the traditional bright pink colour ) 

20g (1 and a half tablespoons) butter

optional sour cherry or sharp apricot jam

Set aside 100 ml (0.4 of a cup) of milk. Heat the rest with the sugar and the scraped out vanilla seeds till it comes to the boil.

Meanwhile, place the 5 yolks in a bowl and whisk them with the sifted flour, then still whisking, add the cold 100ml of milk gradually.

When the remaining milk has come to the boil and all the sugar is dissolved, add it gradually to the yolks while still whisking. Then place everything in the pan in which you boiled the milk and return to a moderate heat for about 10 minutes to thicken.

Whisk constantly and whisking patiently on low heat to bring the mixture almost to boiling point so that it thickens - the very fine bubbles on the surface will disappear when it is ready. Snatch it off the heat, and transfer to a cool bowl as soon as possible, as it can continue to cook and so curdle, .

Divide in two thirds and one third by pouring into two separate bowls - there is no need to be precise here. Add the chocolate, broken into bits, to the smaller amount and mix to melt the chocolate and blend well. Leave to cool.

Mix the water and Alchermes* together. Dip the lady fingers lightly in the liquid, and use make a layer at the bottom of one large or several small glass bowls. Place with the pink side facing the outside, so it is visible through the glass.

Now add a layer of the chocolate custard and if you wish carefully top with a very thin layer of sour cherry or apricot jam, dropping teaspoonfuls at regular intervals as it is impossible to spread the jam over the soft custard with a knife or spoon. If you like you can reserve some of the chocolate custard and place it in a piping bag or squeegee bottle to use for decorating the top.

Finish with a deeper layer of plain custard.

Refrigerate for  at least one hour before serving. For special occasions you could further garnish with one or more of whole sour cherries in syrup, grated chocolate and toasted flaked almonds.

* Today artificial colourings are used but originally the natural dye "Kermes" was used, hence the name which is clearly of Arabic origin.

Risi e Bisi

Risi e Bisi

Venetian risotto soup with fresh peas and pea pod stock

I look forward every year to the first fresh peas and to making Risi e Bisi. This delectable spring dish was once served with great pomp and ceremony to the Magnificent Doge of Venice - the elected head of the powerful city state - on the 25th of April, the feast of the patron saint of the city, San Marco. This was traditionally the day when the very first peas of the season went on sale in the Rialto market

Venice is one of the rice growing regions of Italy along with parts of Lombardy and the Piedmont. The Primo course, which precedes the main or protein course, is usually risotto here rather than pasta, though polenta is also popular in the colder months. A Veneto risotto is wetter than its Lombardy and Piedmont counterparts; the lagoon dwelling Venetians insist should be "all'onda" meaning it should form a crested wave when you tip the plate to one side and then the other. Risi e Bisi is wetter still and it is not a risotto, its preparation does not follow the classic risotto procedures. It looks like a risotto that is wetter than "all'onda", more liquid and definitely pourable, so it is a soup, a soup thick with rice, and it is eaten with a spoon not a fork.

There used to be a rich man's version made with the addition of goose foie gras, but it is the simple recipe which has survived the test of time. Today the fois gras version is unknown while the one below is loved and revered throughout the Veneto and beyond.

Rise e Bisi

For 4 people you will need

1 kilo (2.2 pounds) fresh peas in the pod (or use sugar snap peas)

200g (7 ounces) Vialone Nano rice

50g unsalted butter

1 tbsp. Extra Virgin olive oil

50g (1 and 3/4 ounces or 3 and 1/2 tablespoons) Grana Padano cheese

6 spring onions (scallions)

salt, freshly ground black pepper

2 very thin slices of rolled pancetta (or substitute 1 slice cured but not smoked streaky bacon)

Optional: fresh Italian flat leaf parsley to end up with 2 tbsp. chopped

If your peas are very sweet and tender, do not simmer them with the spring onions but add them after the rice has been cooking about 13 minutes

• First of all make the pea pod stock. Shell the peas and collect them in a bowl for later, and reserve the pods. Discard any pods which are blemished.

• Rinse the pods. Bring 1.5 litres of cold water to a boil, add 2 teaspoons of salt and plunge the pods in. Cook till pods just soften, not too long so they stay bright green.If you rinse them in very cold water straightaway it helps to preserve a bright colour.
  

• It is easiest to strain the pods off and just use their cooking water made up to 1 litre, but for a special day, whizz the pods in a food processor first (easier than using a hand held blender which is also possible) and then patiently push through a very fine sieve to eliminate stringy bits and to get a beautiful velvety puree to add to the dish. An easier alternative is to cook and puree some of the peas.

• While the stock is boiling, prepare the remaining ingredients. Peel the spring onions and slice thinly, using some of the green part. Dice the pancetta very fine. Both these ingredients should melt away and not be discernible in the finished dish. Grate the Grana Padano cheese very fine so that it melts into the "risotto soup" when you add it. Wash the parsley if using , strip the leaves from the stalks and chop fine.

• When the stock is ready, place the spring onions and pancetta in a large saucepan with half the butter and all the olive oil, and soften them on a gentle heat with a little water for a few minutes till well wilted.

• Before they colour add the peas and a couple of ladles of the pea pod stock. Season with salt and only if needed (taste a raw pea) a pinch or up to 1 teaspoon of sugar. Cover and simmer on very low heat for 3 - 10 minutes according to size and tenderness of the peas.

• Add the rice and all the stock at once and cook on moderate heat for 12 minutes. Add the pea pod or pea puree and cook a further 3 minutes.

• When the rice is cooked, take the pot off the heat and whip in the remaining butter. Grind over a little black pepper and add the grated cheese and stir well. Add the chopped parsley if using and stir again.

• Pour into a soup tureen and serve in bowls, or ladle into bowls directly from the pot

Sicilian Bucatini al Ragù

Leafing through Paola Andolina's "Cucina di Sicilia" I came across a recipe for "Pasta a' ragù" and thought I'd give it a try as I had all the ingredients available. It has the typically Sicilian combination of sweet and savoury in the pine nuts and raisins element. Originally it would have been currants (uvetta di Corinto), the dried Corinth grapes that are tiny, almost black and fairly sharp, not as sweet as the regular raisins (uvetta) that tend to be used today. I can get currants in Sicily but not in Bologna so it was raisins for me when I made it a few days ago.

I have to tell you that in making this recipe I've discovered a new favourite: this is a pasta I will be making again and again and again. I love how you get the occasional hint of sweetness when you bite on a raisin, the extra texture the pine nuts contribute. It's a nice straightforward recipe, not too much time and no special skills needed to make a deliciously tasty and different pasta dish that will be devoured greedily - maybe even plates licked when no one's looking!

I have adapted the recipe only slightly from the one in the book cited above, mainly in expanding the very brief description of the steps in the process

Bucatini al Ragù

For 4 people you will need

300g (10/11ounces) Bucatini or broken up Ziti pasta - buy artisan if you can
a can of whole peeled plum tomatoes  - in summer ideally use fresh tomato sauce
2 tablespoons tomato paste - I use Mutti Triplo Concentrato
a small onion
2 tbsp EVO oil
200g (half a pound) ground beef
100g (1 cup) fresh shelled peas or use frozen (in the past, out of season, they'd have use home preserved peas)
12g (2 tablespoons) pine nuts
12g (2 tablespoons) raisins
Pecorino Stagionato to grate at table - Parmigiano-Reggiano, Grana Padano and Ricotta Salata are all preferable to over-salty Pecorinio Romano 

Put the contents of the tin of tomatoes through a sieve to remove stray bits of peel and seeds.
Dilute the tomato paste in 2 tablespoons fo warm water.
Chop the onion and soften in the olive oil with 2 tablspoons of water so that it does not fry or brown.
Add the minced beef when the onion is well wilted and stir till browned.
Add the peas, pine nuts and raisins and leave to cook together for a few minutes for flavours to marry.
Tip in the sieved tomatoes and the diluted tomato paste and stir well.
Turn the heat down and leave to simmer and reduce gently for 30 minutes.
Be sure to stir for time to time and top up with a little water if needed.
Cook the pasta al dente  - I always do 2/3 minutes less than the packet instructions then I taste and decide.
Drain the pasta well, mix it with two thirds of the dressing and serve, spooning some reserved ragù on top of each portion.
Pass the cheese round for everyone to grate over and tuck in immediately so the pasta does not overcook and soften to flabby -  which in Italy is a food crime! 

These are called Strangozzi.

I bought these some time ago but I have not tried them yet.

This is a very ancient pasta from the region of Umbria, and yes, the name refers to strangling: another priest strangling pasta like Strozzapreti and Strangolapreti.

They seem to be similar to Spaghetti alla Chitarra, but traditionally they would be made using just flour and water then hand rolled and cut into narrow ribbons. They also bear some resemblance to the Pici of Southern Tuscany, though those are made using a very different technique.

In Umbria, specifically in Spoleto, they are usually dressed with a fresh tomato sauce made fragrant with garlic and a tiny bit of hot chilli for the famous Strangozzi alla Spoletina or else dressed with the classic garlic, olive oil and chilli dressing. This being Umbria, they are frequently dressed with diced black truffles warmed in olive oil with a single salted anchovy and a little garlic or less frequently tossed in butter and grated Pecorino and topped with shavings of black truffles. In Norcia, the meat capital of central Italy, they serve them with a sausage ragù, which strikes me as perhaps too heavy a dressing. Then there are the vegetable dressings: wild asparagus in spring, Porcini,or Porcini and butternut squash, in the fall.

Apparently Michelle Obama is very fond of Strangozzi alla Carbonara. I'm planning to try them tomorrow with a clam, parsley and garlic sauce, Strangozzi alle Vongole.

Might it be that Strangozzi are as versatile as Spaghetti?.

Roman Oxtail Stew - Coda Alla Vaccinara

       

Part One

Coda Alla Vaccinara, iconic symbol of Roman cuisine, is one of those heart warming soothing winter dishes that you dream of and crave when cold weather sets in. Quick to prepare and slow to cook, it is a humble unpretentious dish made with an inexpensive cut of meat. Simple as it is, the recipe gloriously enhances the ox tail with a subtly bitter sweet finishing sauce. Unfortunately many Rome restaurants, even those specialising in Roman cuisine, skip the final step of the original dish. The dish is still excellent even without it I must admit, but once you've tasted the real thing, the tomato-only version feels incomplete.

Coda alla Vaccinara was born at the historic trattoria Checchino dal 1887, a place that is closely entwined with - if not wholly responsible for - the humble origins of  what is now seen as traditional Roman cuisine. Checchino is located in what was once the slaughter house district of Rome, the now trendy Testaccio area, and though it is a very elegant dining venue today, originally it was just a modest inn.

It first opened in 1870, and served wine along with bread, cheese, olives and salamis, until the original Mariani - the same family still run the restaurant today - obtained a cooking licence in 1887 and started cooking for the workers on the slaughter house construction site on his doorstep.

When the abattoir opened in 1890, Mariani started cooking for the Vaccinari - the butchers - who worked there. At that time, the butchers were given some piece of offal as a little bonus along with their wages, and they took this along to Checchino to pay (almost) in kind for the wine they drank. And this was the birth of Rome's many offal based dishes, the birth of the Roman cuisine of "the fifth quarter". .

They still serve the original recipe that the Mariani family invented at Checchino and that is the recipe I am sharing here today.

For two people you will need

1.2 kilos of oxtail  - a little over 2 1/2 pounds - chopped up into chunks - the butcher should do this for you
1 kilo of peeled plum tomatoes  -  a little over 2 pounds
a small onion
a single clove of garlic
3 sweet cloves (I  double up, I like the flavour!)
3 tbsp olive oil  (I use only one)
50 g salt cured Guanciale (pig jowl) or use Italian Pancetta - a little under 2 ounces
a small glass of dry white wine
salt and pepper

Preparation

Trim excess fat from the oxtail, then wash and pat dry.

Chop the Guanciale as finely as you can, then pound it in a pestle and mortar. Place this with the olive oil at the bottom of a casserole dish, ideally a terracotta or clay pot for even cooking. Soften a while, then add the pieces of oxtail and brown slowly over moderate heat.

Peel the garlic and remove any green shoot in the middle. Peel the onion and finely mince half of it. Stud the second half with the sweet cloves. Add these to the pot, season with salt and pepper and cook for a few minutes, then add the glass of wine and cover.

Cook on low heat for about 15 minutes and during this time put the peeled plum tomatoes (canned tomatoes) through a sieve or food mill to catch any remaining bits of peel or seeds, which you discard. You can use ready sieved tomato passata instead if you can get it and if you prefer. Add the tomatoes to the oxtail, cover and cook for an hour, always on low heat.

After the hour is up, add enough water to the casserole to completely cover the oxtail pieces. Cover and leave to simmer gently for 4 to 6 hours or until the meat is clearly coming away from the bones.

Place the casserole in a cool place and then in the fridge overnight. 

The next day remove all the fat from the surface until you reach the shimmering shiny jelly covering your yummy pieces of oh-so-tasty oh-so-tender oxtail.

Part one: done! The best is yet to come though, scroll down and read about the wonderful chocolatey finishing sauce that crowns this dish!

Celery, Pine Nut, Raisin and Chocolate Sauce for Roman Coda alla Vaccinara

       

Pomegranate braised Rooster - Galletto alla Melograna

           

I decided to cook this because my fruit seller gave me a huge heavy pomegranate as a New Year's good luck gift.

I thought about making my usual Guinea Hen dish with it but my butcher recommended I buy his fresh free range "galletto" instead. The Guinea Hen recipe assumes a wild bird, and requires a marinade of lemon juice, black peppercorns and juniper berries, and at the end it is finished with a little cream, but this juicy young bird did not need any of that I decided. Keep it simple and let the flavour of the bird shine through.

My finish would be some fresh pomegranate seeds or arils, to add some tartness and that delicious juice popping texture to the tender meat and the thick slightly caramelised shallot-enriched pan syrup.

Here's the recipe:

For 2 people you need:

A small young rooster, free range ideally - Cornish game hen will do instead, or even chicken thighs
A heavy large ripe pomegranate
A shallot
Extra virgin Olive Oil, salt, pepper

Prepare the rooster
If your butcher has not done it for you, cut the rooster into 4 pieces.
Check for feathers and if necessary singe over a flame, then rub off.
Wash and pat the pieces as dry as possible or your oil will really splatter!

Prepare the shallot
Mince it as fine as you possibly you can: use a mandolin if you have one, then chop, chop, chop.

Prepare the pomegranate
Extract all the arils and juice about two thirds of them - reserve the rest to add at the end of cooking time

To cook the dish

Heat up 2 tablespoons of evo oil in a skillet, ideally non stick
Place the rooster quarters skin side down and brown over high heat at first, then turn the heat down and let them brown slooooowly. High heat only toughens the fibres of meat (and fish) while long slow browning keeps the bird moist.
After 20 minutes or so, remove the rooster pieces to a plate and tip out excess oil but do not scrape up the sticky bits of brown deliciousness yet.
Add the shallot to the pan with a tablespoon of water and let it soften, then return the rooster to the pan and season generously with salt and pepper.
Add the beautiful pomegranate juice to the skillet, scrape up those yummy bits, turn the heat to very low, cover and leave to cook about 50 minutes.
Do check and add liquid from time to time - you want the pan juices to reduce to a treacly, slightly sticky sauce at the end but keep enough moisture in the pan while you braise, you can always reduce further at the end.
Test the meat by giving it a light poke with your finger - it should be yielding, promising you tender succulence.
Now add the reserved whole arils and stir together with the rooster quarters and pan juices for a few minutes. Taste and adjust seasoning and adjust the sauce by adding water or reducing until it is as you like it, then serve with a plain steamed vegetable.

Gnocchi di Patata - Italian Cold Weather Comfort Food

After the holidays I crave the simplest foods, so for Sunday lunch I made good old potato gnocchi. Just old floury potatoes and flour: 1 part of flour for every 5 parts potato, and absolutely nothing else, to keep them light and tasting of potato. I intensely dislike tough and chewy packaged gnocchi, the kind sometimes also served in restaurants even here in Italy. I think the culprit must be the addition of eggs, which of course wet the potato mixture so then you need to add more flour and that way you end up with the rubber bullet gnocchi I dislike so much.

     

This is what I did:

I placed 2 large old potatoes in cold water unpeeled and cooked them gently till they were well softened, taking care not to let them burst their skins as they need to stay dry, to retain all their starch.

I peeled them while warm and enjoyed squishing them through a potato ricer (a food mill will also do). Today I did it twice to make the mixture extra smooth, letting the potato ribbons fall in a mound.

I sprinkled over most of the flour and worked the flour and potatoes together into a soft dough that held its shape when I started forming it into a long snake. For light gnocchi I try to use the least amount of flour possible, but always enough so that the "snake" holds and does not break up.

I made more than one "snake" and cut them up into even pieces, then I rolled each piece into a ball.

I pressed each ball lightly on the back of a fork to indent the front and then gently rolled it up with the tip of my thumb to form the cowrie shell hollow on the back - both are designed to lighten the gnocchi and to give the sauce something to cling to.

Then I left them on a lightly floured cloth in a shallow woven basket while a large wide pot of water came to a boil.

Waiting for the water, I heated up a rich and much reduced tomato sauce. This I had made using a garlic infused olive oil (the sliced garlic I removed when it turned blonde), a small finely minced onion wilted in the oil till very soft and translucent, thick tomato passata (seedless and skin-free) from a jar, and a little dried oregano, all simmered on low heat for 45 minutes or more.

I salted the water heavily when it came to a boil, then turned the heat down a little and cooked the gnocchi in 3 or 4 batches. I love the way the gnocchi unhurriedly make their way to the top when they are ready, they always make me think of the moon landing astronauts, the way they  labouriously and slowly float to the surface to announce they are ready.

I let them float at the top for 30 seconds or so before removing them with a slotted spoon, letting them drain well then adding them to the waiting bowls which had a layer of hot tomato sauce just placed on the bottom. As I removed one batch from the gently boiling water, I added another, and as I added more gnocchi to the bowls I also added more hot tomato sauce, mixing everything together delicately. No cheese at this stage or the dish risks becoming a gooey mess.

When all the gnocchi are up and the bowls are full, a little extra sauce, a light dusting of Pecorino or Parmigiano-Reggiano and take them to the table. Potato gnocchi are tastier and less likely to be sticky if they are not searingly hot, but do not let them wait to long seeing as you cooked them in batches.

We loved the simple age-old familiar flavours, the soft melting texture, just right for a cold winter's day. We thought we'd have them again soon, perhaps adding some diced Guanciale to the tomato sauce, once we are past our current post-holiday need for the simplest possible dishes.

Timballo di Scrippelle

Ciceri e Tria - Chick Pea Pasta with a crunchy twist

Ciceri e Tria is the best loved pasta of Lecce in Apulia, and of all the Salento area.

It is a simple Cucina Povera dish, a kind of Pasta e Fagioli made with rosemary and garlic scented chick peas. The Ciceri are chick peas and Tria is the word used in Apulia to refer to pasta that is dried or fried. In this case the pasta, which is similar to Tagliatelle in shape, is made with durum wheat (semolina) flour but without eggs. The spark of genius in this dish is that part of the pasta is fried so that you get a lovely crunchiness alongside the smooth textured chick peas and the chewy durum wheat pasta. This dish is normally served a little wet and slightly soupy, but I decided mine would be on the dry side.

Time is one of the ingredients of this dish, as you do need to make your own pasta for this dish to work, but you can use canned chick peas without losing any of the charm.

I made the dish for two of us and used dried chick peas. I started by making an aromatic broth to cook the chick peas, a quarter pound of them that I'd put to soak the previous night. A leek, a bay leaf, a carrot and a celery stick, a couple of cloves of garlic and a sprig of muslin wrapped rosemary went into the pot with the chick peas. I covered them in plenty of water and left them to simmer gently till tender.

I then got on with making the pasta dough. I combined half a pound of stone ground organic Senatore Cappelli flour with half a cup of warm water and worked them together well till the dough was very smooth. I'd bought the single variety flour at the local farmer's market. It is incredibly aromatic and filled the kitchen with heady bakery aromas.

I left the dough to rest in a plastic bag for an hour or so while the chick peas simmered on, then I rolled it out on the pasta machine keeping it quite thick. I cut the noodles on the wider Tagliatelle setting floured them lightly and set them out to dry on a clean kitchen towel. And minced a single garlic clove real fine.

     

By the time the chick peas were done it was time to cook the pasta. You cook it in with the chick peas so first I removed the aromatic herbs and vegetables, then I topped up the chick pea cooking water to have enough water to cook the pasta in.

But not all of it. I separated out about a third for frying in peanut oil though some people fry more and some less than that. I fried it in small batches and placed each batch on absorbent paper when it was golden. I salted these crispy creatures and nibbled on one, just to be sure it was good. Then I salted the chick pea water generously - chick peas can be very bland if not well seasoned with salt - and tipped the remaining noodles into the broth.

Fresh pasta cooks quickly so after very few minutes I scooped them out with a pasta fork and placed them in a sauté pan with some good olive oil and the minced garlic, over the lowest heat, while I scooped up the chick peas which also went in the sauté pan not too well drained. Plenty of black pepper (hot red chili flakes, but just a touch, are an alternative) and it was ready to serve, garnished with its golden crown of crunchy well salted dried pasta.

We drizzled it with my best evo oil and though it is not the usual practice, we grated over some sharp Pecorino Sardo before tucking in. Yum!