briciole

Novel Food #3: the Finale (one serving)

Spring has sprung, or fall has brought cooler temperatures, depending on your hemisphere of residence. In any case, another season is at the door, bringing its special gifts. Novel Food, the literary/culinary event Lisa of Champaign Taste and I started last year, strives to provide nourishment for the body and for the mind in the guise of literary works that inspired the preparation of dishes.

Each contribution is a short trip into a literary world that is made more pleasant by edible morsels. Lisa and I had fun receiving the submissions, reading intriguing stories and delicious recipes. Now we are sharing the fun with all of you. Sit down, relax, and enjoy the journey.

We start with a visit to the land of fairy tales, in the company of Maryann from Finding La Dolce Vita.

In her rendition of Brother Grimms' Little Red Riding Hood, the protagonist carries an adorable Amuse Buche Parmesan Basket to her grandmother. Maryann suggests an alternative development for the story after the wolf's fateful question. But I don't want to spoil the surprise: read Maryann's reasoning, then come back here for the next leg of the trip.

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At our next stop we meet Kay of Kitchen Jouissance, who recommends reading J.D. Salinger's short story A Perfect Day for Bananafish "whenever you feel the need to have your reason for being alive reaffirmed." The powerful story inspired Kay to make really pretty Bananafish Cookies. Her post includes several reading suggestions, besides her impassioned argument in support of Salinger's story: navigate there, read it, then come back here for more.

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We now travel to Australia to meet Lucy of Nourish Me, who introduces us to "Barbara Trapido, a South African born novelist whose small output is as impressive and enjoyable as it is addictive." From this output, Lucy has chosen the novel Juggling, in which "food offers insightful portraits."

The novel inspired Lucy to make Autumnal Tarts, aka Roasted Pear and Rocket Tarts, for which she used several interesting ingredients, including previously unknown to me labneh. Read why Lucy calls her tarts "an offal-free seduction," look at a photo of labneh, then return here for the next installment.

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At our next stop SilverMoon from Dragon Musings introduces us to Cut-me-own-Throat Dibbler, an interesting character, whose abilities with "bits of an animal" are described in Terry Pratchett's Moving Pictures.

CMOT Dibbler inspired the preparation of CMOT Dibbler's Sausages Inna Bun for a tasty dinner that included variations for the mustard-averse and that met with family's approval. Read more about CMOT Dibbler, the sausages and the buns, then come back here to continue the journey.

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Judith's foodie bookshelf, over at Shortcut to Mushrooms, includes Ruth Reichl's Garlic and Sapphires.  In it, the author "waxes poetic about several risottos and is very insistent on how difficult it is to get that creamy texture but retain the proper bite." Judith takes up the challenge and decides to make Risotto with Shitake Mushrooms and Leeks using the microwave. Besides the recipe, Judith provides a review of the book and The Bottom Line. To find out what that is, visit her blog, then come back here, because there is more to come.

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We now follow Indigo of Happy Love Strawberry in her quest for the recipe for lembas. I did not use the word quest by chance, but as a reference to the world of J.J.R. Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings.

Finding a good (i.e., edible) recipe for the Elf waybread turned out to be a bit of an adventure and you want to read about it and about the outcome (though Indigo considers her quest still ongoing). Try not to get lost in Middle Earth, because our journey has not yet ended. I'll be waiting for you here.

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In any case, we will linger in a magic place for a little longer, thanks to Mary of Shazam in the Kitchen, who, out of all the books she has read so far this year, has been particularly enchanted by The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett. It is the story of two children who can get everything they want, except someone who is willing to spend time with them. The two lonely children meet another child and they spend time in a secret garden. For them, Mary has made Secret Garden Cupcakes (aka Lavender Cardamom Cupcakes). At this point, I suggest you go over to Mary's blog to read the rest, then come back for the next stop.

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Susan, The Well-Seasoned Cook, describes with the following incisive words Graham Greene's powerful novel The End of the Affair: "is a disquietingly painful and complex portrayal of three souls whose trajectory is as layered and pungent as an onion."

Onions are mentioned in the scene that sees the start of the affair, and they inspired Susan to offer us a Super-Simple Pearl Onion Salad. Go over to her blog, read about this moving story, then come back here for another morsel.

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Sara of heaven on earth offers us an amusing exchange between Isabel Archer and her cousin Ralph Touchett, from Portrait of a Lady, by Henry James. Isabel announces to Ralph that she will have dinner by herself. I won't tell you everything that occurs between the two of them, only that the planned menu for her dinner is "two poached eggs and a muffin." Sara, then, decided to make (English) Muffins for Isabel. To learn the details, visit Sara's blog then return here to proceed to the last stop.

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Venezia is the destination of the last leg of the trip. There, we see commissario Brunetti, the protagonist of Donna Leon's Death at La Fenice, relax at home with his wife and make himself a hot caffelatte in which he gleefully dunks biscotti. I used to indulge in the same treat for breakfast. How reading about Brunetti's dunking translates into a recipe for biscotti is something you can read after following the link. When you are done, make sure you come back here for some parting words and further directions.

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I hope you enjoyed our literary/culinary trip with its suggestions for reading and for cooking. Our event will be back next season: stay tuned for the announcement that will be published in about two months'.

If you started the journey into the third edition of Novel Food here, make sure you travel to Lisa's blog, where her portion of the roundup is waiting to welcome you on board for the other half of the tour.

For her part, Lisa will transport you to Sicily and introduce you to another commissario, Salvo Montalbano, and to his eating habits, which include snacking on calia e simenza. Have a pleasant journey: we hope to see you again next season.

Novel Food #3: biscotti

Biscotto is a word of Latin origin that means twice-baked: the dough is baked, then cut into slices and baked again. From describing a cooking procedure, the word biscotto came to indicate a baked product, crunchy and rather dry in texture. Nowadays, biscotti are not necessarily twice-baked ¹. In Italy, you can find shelves full of biscotti in grocery stores: frollini, novelllini, petit, oswego (or osvego), plus a host of brand-specific names.

What do we do with them?

He opened the refrigerator and pulled out a liter of milk, splashed some into a pan, and set it on the flame to heat... From the cabinet he pulled down a bag of sweet biscuits they bought for the children and peered into it to see how many were left.
When the coffee was finished boiling up into the top of the double pot, he poured it into a mug, added the steaming milk, spooned in less sugar than he liked, and went to sit across from Paola.
[...]
"Yes, my treasure," he fawned. He let go of the cup and pushed it toward her. When she had taken another sip, he extracted a biscuit from the bag and dipped it into the coffee.
"You are disgusting," she said, then smiled.
"Simple peasant," he agreed, shoving the biscuit into his mouth.
Paola never talked much about what it had been like to be raised in the palazzo, with an English nanny and a flock of servants, but if he knew anything about all those years, he knew that she had never been permitted to dunk. He saw it as a great lapse in her upbringing and insisted that their children be allowed to do it. She had agreed, but with great reluctance. Neither child, he never failed to point out to her, showed grave signs of moral or physical decline as a result.

The 'he' in the excerpt is commissario Guido Brunetti, and the lines are from "Death at La Fenice," the first of the novels by Donna Leon that have Brunetti as protagonist and Venezia as setting. I must admit that it was the latter characteristic that enticed me to get hold of the book. I have, in fact, a deep passion for the city on the lagoon (laguna), for its beauty, which defies description, for its magical atmosphere. A glorious setting is certainly not enough to make a mystery intriguing. I enjoyed "Death at La Fenice," not only for the setting, but also for the characters (including Paola, Brunetti's wife), for the way the story unfolds, and for how the climax is reached (which I found quite nice). Reading "Death at La Fenice" was as satisfying as inzuppare i biscotti nel caffelatte o nel tè (tea).

In the scene described above, which made me laugh out loud in recognition of a connection between me and the commissario, Brunetti indulges in biscotti dunking at the end of the day. In my childhood, that ritual was more connected to breakfast or to the afternoon snack (in which case the liquid of choice was tea). The alternative accompaniment to the morning caffelatte was pane e marmellata (bread and jam, usually home-made). Nowadays, I indulge in biscotti eating (i.e., sans liquid) at the end of the day, my breakfast habits having taken a different turn. I consider my love for biscotti an aspect of my Italian heritage and I appreciated Donna Leon's vignette featuring it.

When I moved to California, I did not find in the local stores any of the biscotti I was used to eating. On the other hand, I found plenty of 'biscotti,' variations on the theme of a twice-baked product that up until then I had called cantucci. These delicacies are often offered as dessert in Tuscan restaurants, paired with vin santo, a wine made with grapes that have been slightly dried to concentrate the sugar. Dunking cantucci in vin santo is a distinct option, considered necessary by some.

After trying a few times to eat biscotti and finding them not to my taste, I decided to develop a personalized recipe. Biscotti (and biscotti too) make a great snack, and are therefore a pleasant companion during hikes and other outings.

Preheat the oven to 350 F. Coarsely chop 3.5 ounces of intense dark  (at least 70 percent cocoa) sweetened chocolate and one cup of unpeeled almonds. In a mixing bowl, beat two extra-large eggs with a quarter cup of sugar until bubbly, then add four tablespoons of unsalted butter softened and cut into small pieces, and beat again for a few seconds. Add in succession: one cup of whole wheat pastry flour, a pinch of salt, half a cup of regular flour with one and a half teaspoons of baking powder, and half a teaspoon of vanilla extract, stirring with a wooden spoon after each addition. Add the chopped chocolate and almonds. Turn the dough onto a floured surface and knead it for a few minutes until the butter has been incorporated into the dough. Add flour as needed to prevent sticking: a quarter cup of regular flour, a bit more if necessary, but no more than a third of a cup.

Divide the dough in half and roll each piece until it is about 12 inches long, then move it to a cookie sheet lined with parchment paper. Flatten each log with your hand so that it is about 3 inches wide and 1/2 inch thick. Use one big cookie sheet or two small ones. The first baking lasts 25 minutes. The logs will rise a bit and turn light brown. Take the sheet(s) out, turn the oven temperature down to 300 F and let the logs cool for 10 minutes or so.

With a bread knife cut the logs into slices no more than 3/4 inch thick. Move the slices back onto the cookie sheet, at least 1/2 inch from each other, standing up. Bake the slices for 14 minutes at 300 F. Check the biscotti after 12 minutes. If the bottom is becoming dark brown, stop the baking, otherwise continue it for two more minutes. Take the biscotti out of the oven and let them rest for at least half an hour.

Fortunately, I did not have to give up my indulgence in biscotti and my production of biscotti was greeted with appreciation both at home and elsewhere. The result it that biscotti can usually be found in a cupboard in my kitchen and biscotti in a container on the kitchen counter. Il commissario Brunetti avrebbe l'imbarazzo della scelta (would be spoiled for choice).

As you may have guessed, this is my entry for Novel Food #3, a seasonal literary/culinary event that Lisa of Champaign Taste and I are co-hosting. The deadline for sending us your literary-inspired culinary creations is Saturday March 22, 2008, 9 am (Pacific Time).

¹ Some, like biscotti di Prato, are twice-baked.

Hear me pronounce the words on the biscotti audio file [mp3] or go to the biscotti audio page for more listening options.

pasta al burro e parmigiano

pasta with butter and parmigiano
(scorrete avanti per un sommario del post in italiano)

I grew up eating pasta for lunch almost every day. As a child, I looked forward to departures from the routine (which, in the case of pasta seasoning, was tomato and meat sauce): I looked forward to having pasta al burro e parmigiano. Arriving home after school, I would ask my mother: Cosa c'è per pranzo? (what's for lunch?) and the 'right' answer would bring a big smile on my face.

My preferred shape for pasta al burro e parmigiano is spaghetti, but any shape can be used. Pasta al burro e parmigiano can be made easily and quickly, if the ingredients are available: good quality pasta and unsalted butter and genuine parmigiano.

I know that other people in Italy have a soft spot for this kind of pasta. I have also met a young woman in this country who, thanks to an Italian baby-sitter, loves pasta al burro e parmigiano, which makes me think that the dish has a power across geographic boundaries. To me it has the power of skilled simplicity. When I decided to follow on my mother's steps and make pasta all'uovo (egg pasta), my first batch of fettuccine was made al burro e parmigiano.

To prepare pasta al burro e parmigiano for two, I bring a pot of water to a rolling boil, add salt to taste and toss in it 1/3 lb of spaghetti or other dried pasta shape. While the pasta is cooking, I place one tablespoon of unsalted butter into each of two bowls, cut into 3-4 pieces. I also grate an ounce of parmigiano. I cook the pasta until it is al dente (firm to the bite), drain it, leaving a little of the cooking water clinging to it, and divide it equally into the two bowls with the butter. I start stirring immediately, so that the heat from the pasta melts the butter. At the same time, I sprinkle the grated parmigiano on it (also divided equally into two), and keep stirring until butter and cheese are evenly distributed. Immediate eating is required, as the dish is at its best when hot.

This is my contribution to Un Piatto di Potere (a dish of power), an event organized by Lenny of Una Finestra di Fronte. The idea is to talk about a dish that affected our lives. Here is the roundup of the event, presented as the table of contents of an anthology.

I loved pasta al burro e parmigiano as a child: eating it was an utter pleasure that has left one of the strongest memories of my childhood. The delight (in both smell and flavor) of this simple three-ingredient dish transcends the sum of its components.

Hear me pronounce the words on the pasta al burro e parmigiano audio file [mp3] or go to the pasta al burro e parmigiano audio page for more listening options.

Sono cresciuta mangiando pasta a pranzo quasi tutti i giorni. Da bambina non vedevo l'ora che mia madre facesse la pasta al burro e parmigiano. Per questo tipo di pasta io preferisco gli spaghetti, ma si possono usare altri tipi. La pasta al burro e parmigiano è facile e veloce da preparare, se si hanno gli ingredienti.

So che si sono altre persone in Italia che hanno un debole per questo tipo di pasta. Ho anche incontrato una giovane donna americana che, grazie ad una baby-sitter italiana, ama la pasta al burro e parmigiano, il che mi fa pensare che questo piatto ha un potere che va al di là dei confini geografici. Per me, questo piatto ha il potere della semplicità esperta.

Per due persone, io cuocio 150 g di pasta. In ognuno di due piatti fondi metto 15 g di burro, poi ci verso metà della pasta scolata lasciando su di essa un po' dell'acqua di cottura. Mentre mescolo, distribuisco il parmigiano, grattugiato di fresco (30 g, divisi tra le due porzioni di pasta). Quando burro e parmigiano sono ben distribuiti, servo la pasta, che va mangiata immediatamente. 

Questo è il mio contributo a Un Piatto di Potere, evento organizzato da Lenny di Una Finestra di Fronte. Il riassunto, presentato come l'indice di un'antologia, si trova qui.

Da bambina adoravo la pasta al burro e parmigiano: mangiarla era una delizia che ha lasciato un ricordo indelebile. La delizia di questo semplice piatto fatto di tre ingredienti trascende la somma delle sue parti.

spaghetti all'amatriciana

Not long ago I made spaghetti alla carbonara and in that post I mentioned an article in the New York Times on guanciale. The article starts by mentioning pasta all'amatriciana: when I read it, I did not know that I would be soon making it.

The inspiration came from finding Niman Ranch guanciale at The Pasta Shop in Oakland. I bought some and decided that I would use it to make spaghetti all'amatriciana. I remember eating bucatini all'amatriciana, but I am not a fan of bucatini and prefer spaghetti. As mentioned in the NYT article, some people consider spaghetti closer to the tradition. The way I see it, you can choose. I don't have a family recipe, but I am on the side of the onion-less party. My list of ingredients, besides spaghetti, includes guanciale, pomodori and pecorino.

For my rendition of the dish I cut 1/4 lb of guanciale (sliced to my specifications at the store) into pieces (see photo) and placed them in a frying pan previously sprayed lightly with olive oil and warmed up. I cooked the guanciale for a few minutes, then removed it from the pan with a slotted spoon and placed it in a small bowl. I then added a 28 oz can of chopped tomatoes [see update below] to the pan and 1/2 teaspoon of red pepper flakes. I cooked, uncovered, for 10 minutes, then added the guanciale to the tomatoes. I set the heat to low to keep the sauce warm while the pasta cooked. 

I brought a pot of water to a rolling boil, added some salt and tossed a pound of spaghetti in it. Shortly before the pasta was ready, I adjusted salt and pepper in the sauce and prepared 1/2 cup of freshly grated... I should say pecorino, but I had some aged goat cheese and experimented with that instead. I drained the pasta and poured it in a bowl that I had kept warm, added the cheese and then the sauce while mixing.

I was pretty happy with the result. The sauce made with chopped tomatoes was a bit too watery, so next time I will try a different kind of tomatoes. Also, I will use pecorino. Update: I made the recipe using a 28 oz can of ground, peeled tomatoes and the result was more to my liking.

The two photos that I took of the final result where unusable. Fortunately, Lisa of Champaign Taste made the same dish using pretty much the same recipe, just a different kind of pasta. You are therefore invited to read her post and admire her bucatini all'amatriciana.

As Lisa and I were exchanging notes after discovering that, unbeknown to each other, we had both made pasta all'amatriciana, the invitation arrived to participate to Festa Italiana, an event organized by Maryann of Finding La Dolce Vita and Marie of Proud Italian Cook. It is a favored dish in my long list, sure to please the party crowd, and so that's what I am bringing.

Hear me pronounce the words on the spaghetti all'amatriciana audio file [mp3] or go to the spaghetti all'amatriciana audio page for more listening options.

mela

apple
I am not a breakfast person: when I get up, the first thing I crave is something hot and liquid, which translates into a cup of black tea, followed by another cup of black tea, followed, an hour or so later, by a cup of coffee made using my stovetop coffee maker. It is not until mid-morning that I turn my attention to something solid and that something has been, for more years than I can remember, una mela (an apple).

Una mela al giorno leva il medico di torno (an apple a day keeps the doctor away), you may remind me. The reason for my breakfast choice, however, is really my lifelong love for apples. It is certainly a great bonus that apples are good for my health. What has changed in the years is my favorite kind: that spot has been occupied for some time by the Mutsu apple. This time of the year it is not available in the stores, so I am currently breakfasting mostly with a Pinova apple and sometimes with a Golden Delicious. Just yesterday, I purchased some Ambrosia apples but have not yet tasted one.

So, here is the recipe for my apple-based breakfast. Take an organic apple of your liking and wash it carefully. Bite into it and savor the juicy morsel in your mouth. Chew slowly and concentrate on the texture and flavor. Repeat until you are left with just the core. Place it in your compost bin. Wait a few minutes, enjoying the apple's aftertaste, then cut yourself a small piece of excellent quality extra dark chocolate (at least 70% cocoa content) and break it into 2-3 morsels. Eat them in slow succession, savoring each one by letting it melt slowly in your mouth. Feel good.

Ricetta in italiano: colazione con la mela. Prendete una mela da coltivazione biologica e lavatela bene. Mangiatela a morsi, assaporando ogni pezzetto succoso che avete in bocca. Masticate lentamente e concentrate la vostra attenzione sul sapore. Ripetete fino a quando rimane solo il torsolo. Godetevi per qualche minuto il retrogusto della mela. Tagliate un piccolo pezzo di ottimo cioccolato amaro con almeno il 70% di cacao e spezzatelo in 2 o 3. Mangiate un pezzetto dopo l'altro, lasciandolo sciogliere lentamente in bocca per assaporarlo. Sentitevi ritemprati.

This is my contribution to the Una mela al giorno... event by rossdibi of Ma che ti sei mangiato... (but what did you eat). A year ago she had a mild stroke. Her event is a celebration of life with an attention to a diet that keeps us healthy. She asked bloggers to contribute a dish that, besides apples, features at least another ingredient from a list that includes black tea and dark chocolate. Here is the roundup.

Least I forget: after my apple and dark chocolate breakfast, I have another cup of black tea, called Black Chocolate Cream.

Hear me pronounce the words on the mela audio file [mp3] or go to the mela audio page for more listening options.

a volte basta un nonnulla

sometimes the slightest thing is enough
This Italian expression is not related to food, but it is the title of an image contest that Italian blogger Baol of vorrei essere un baol (I'd like to be a baol) launched a little while ago, and to which I am participating. The idea was to submit an original image (photo or drawing) inspired by the expression: a volte basta un nonnulla.

Since this is a context, there will be a winner, and also a second and third place. I am inviting you to visit the page where the entries are displayed, here, and to vote by expressing your preferences in a comment. Make sure you specify first, second and third before the number of the entry. If you simply list three entries, baol will interpret them as being preferences for third, second and first place, respectively, which may be the opposite of what you intended.

Each entry comes with a caption. My entry is number 30 (hint, hint, hint) and the caption says:

A volte basta un nonnulla, basta guardare con attenzione alle cose che abbiamo sempe davanti agli occhi per vedere le meraviglie del mondo

which means (with a slight dose of poetic license): sometimes the slightest thing is enough, it is enough to look with observant eyes at the things that are always in front of us to see the beauty of the world.

I realize that for non-Italian speakers it is not easy to interpret the combination image-caption: hence, I'll be more than happy to translate captions, if you let me know which one(s) interest you.

Hear me pronounce the words on the a volte basta un nonnulla audio file [mp3] or go to the a volte basta un nonnulla audio page for more listening options.