Carmelita's Cookitaly

Fennel and Orange Winter Salad

I was only in Bologna's Mercato del Mezzo to take photos for my Facebook Cook Italy page when it hit me,  the fragrance from the Tarocco oranges I was shooting.

Instant decision: I just had to make an Insalata di Tarocco e Finocchio, my absolute favourite Italian winter salad, the fennel and orange salad from Sicily.  When the weather conditions are right to produce a thermal shock -  very cold nights after relatively warm clear sky days -  the Tarocco oranges turn from "blond" to red, and these were just turning, judging by the two sliced orange halves in the display.

Making this winter salad is a simple matter. Remove the first leaf of the fennel bulb and slice as much of it as you like in the way that you prefer. Peel the oranges to remove skin, pith and the membranes enclosing the fillets, here's a nice Link to The Kitchn that shows you exactly how . Finely chop some flat leaf parsley, assemble and drizzle with olive oil.

There are a few traditional additions of which I sometimes add one or more: finely sliced green leek tops, black olives, or very tiny slivers of salted herring or anchovy, the winter fish for days when the sea was too rough for the fishermen to go out.

Simple but spectacular to look at, and it is also very refreshing with that crisp crunch from the anise flavored fennel. Let me know if you like it or if you have other orange salads you enjoy.

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.

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!