briciole

treccia danese

Danish braid

It's that time of the month, when I tell the story of the disasters small and big that occurred in my kitchen during various attempts at fulfilling the Daring Bakers' challenge. There is always hope that next months things will go smoothly. In the meantime, let me tell you a bit about the June challenge, which was not, despite my doomsday introduction, an unmitigated disaster.

First things first. Many thanks to Kelly of Sass & Veracity and Ben of What’s Cookin’? for choosing a great recipe and one that, unbeknown to them, I needed to know about. You can read the recipe here or here. You can easily halve the recipe, which is what I did. Remember that dimensions are affected by the halving process. And also that not all fillings are created equal. But let's go in order.

For my first treccia, I chose a crema (pastry cream) filling. However, instead of using lemon peel to flavor the crema, I used vaniglia (vanilla). The recipe for the Danish dough calls for half a vanilla bean. Since I made half the recipe, I split the half bean lengthwise, and used one half for the dough. I then had the other half ready to be used to flavor the filling. I infused the bean in the milk heated to almost boiling point, then scraped the seeds before removing the bean from the milk. Remember to save the used vanilla bean pieces: they can be placed in a jar of granulated or powdered sugar to make vanilla sugar. Once ready, the crema needed to be placed in a bath of cold water. Except that I got distracted and opened the faucet into pan with the crema. As you can imagine, I wasn't exactly pleased with myself. Batch number two of crema was completed without major mishaps.

I refrigerated the Danish dough overnight and the morning after the thought that things weren't going exactly as expected presented itself. The dough had not changed size at all. And it persisted in not changing size for several hours after I had shaped and filled it into a braid. Basically, the active dry yeast had not done its job. I was a bit worried when I put it in the cold milk the day before, since I am used to warming up the liquid into which I put yeast when I make bread. Having gone to all the trouble, I decided to bake it anyway and the result, though edible, was not what should have been.

For my second treccia, I used the instant yeast that I use to make bread and warmed up the milk slightly. Not sure which of the two changes made the difference, but when I retrieved my second Danish dough from the fridge, it had clearly risen overnight. I did not feel like making yet another batch of crema, so I sliced fresh fragole (strawberries) and added a tablespoon of sugar to them. By the time I had prepared the treccia for filling, it became clear that the strawberries would bleed during the proofing period. So, when the treccia went into the oven, there was a pool of blood, that is, strawberry juice, around it.

I kept going, because, you see, this was on Sunday morning and I had no time to do a third treccia before the deadline for posting. And, of course, the treccia came apart at the seams during baking, so what came out of the oven was not pretty. Fortunately, it was good, and the guests at the table, focus on the flavor of their breakfast, were not troubled by its appearance. I had cut four slices before I was able to grab the camera and take a photo, which should be considered simply a proof of the fact that I fulfilled the challenge.

A third treccia will be made shortly. It will have crema as filling and it will be prettier than its predecessor. Hopefully I will also have a better photo to show you that I can do better than just go from one disaster to its successor. In the meantime, see what a Danish braid can look like in the hands of skillful people by perusing the gorgeous creations of my talented fellow Daring Bakers.

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

menu

Same spelling, same meaning, a slightly different pronunciation. The real difference is in the way it is organized. The typical Italian ristorante (restaurant) menu lists dishes divided into sections that include:

• antipasti (appetizers)
• primi (first courses)
• secondi (second courses)
• contorni (side dishes)
• dolci (desserts)

The middle three items describe the way we approach the main part of a meal. Primi are pasta or rice dishes, or soups (minestre). Polenta and gnocchi are also primi. Secondi are meat or fish dishes. Nowadays, vegetarian options are also usually available. Side dishes (contorni) are listed separately. As a customer, you may order an item from each section of the menu: antipasto (literally, before the meal), primo, secondo, contorno, dolce (these words are all the singular version of the ones given above in the plural). You may also choose to skip one or more items. Primo, secondo and contorno make up the basic meal. I grew up eating this triad at the main meal, pranzo (lunch).

At home now, I prefer a more egalitarian approach to the traditional organization based on courses. I like to put all offerings on the table, except for dessert, and let the guests decide the order and/or combination. I like seeing several serving plates being passed back and forth, while the conversation flows. (Note that the photo on the left was taken before I put a portion of secondo on my plate, which therefore only holds, from left to right, some antipasto, contorno and primo. Hopefully my friend Christine of Christine Cooks will post about her delicious contorno portrayed here and I will write about the primo.)

After the main part of the meal is over, I like to pause for a short time, then serve il dolce (dessert). At home in Italy, we ended up il pranzo with some frutta (fruit), except on Sunday (domenica), when we would have dessert, most often paste (pastries) from the pasticceria that happened to be the current family favorite. I am planning to talk more about paste in a future post. In the meantime, you can read about one type of them, bignè con la crema (cream puffs).

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

tartarughe di pasta frolla

sweet shortcrust pastry turtles

I recently wrote about making pastiera (here and here). In the first post I hinted at a way of recycling the leftover pasta frolla (or pastafrolla, sweet shortcrust pastry). My aunt Lucia used to make crostata (jam tart) and with the leftover pasta frolla she would make mini versions of the same dessert, i.e., crostatine (literally, small crostate). I (sort of) did the same. For the occasion, I used the sea turtle cookie cutter I had received for my participation to the adopt a creature campaign by Oceana.

The sea turtle (tartaruga marina) is my husband's favorite marine creature (mine is the spotted eagle ray). When we dive, he is always on the lookout for sea turtles. They are indeed, really cool creatures, elegant swimmers, noisy eaters, funny nappers.

After I rolled out the pasta frolla for the pastiera and used some extra dough to make the decorative lattice over the filling, I wrapped the remainder and put it in the fridge for 20 minutes or so, because by then it was a bit too warm to handle. In the meantime, the oven had the pastiera in it. I rolled the pasta frolla and used my sea turtle cookie cutter to obtain the familiar shapes. I then placed them on a cookie tray lined with a silicone baking mat or parchment paper, and finally spooned a bit of fruit spread on the top, making sure not to get too close to the edges, to avoid spillovers. 

By the time I was done shaping the pasta frolla into turtles, the pastiera was close to being done. I had space enough in the oven to add the loaded baking tray. The baking time is 10-12 minutes and since it is easy to burn the crostatine, check after nine minutes and adjust the time accordingly¹. When the crostatine are pale golden, they are ready. Take the baking tray out and let them cool undisturbed, as they harden in the process and if you try to move them too early they may break (they are still edible even though broken).

My aunt would make round crostatine, put some of her home-made jam in the center and then make a tiny version of the decorative lattice by crossing two short, thin strips of dough. I started doing something similar (see left turtle in the photo), but then decided that I liked the turtles better unadorned. Sweet, crunchy sea turtles for my husband, until the next time we can see real ones, in their natural habitat.

¹ When I bake crostatine with crostata I check them after eight minutes, as the oven temperature is higher (375 F) than when I bake pastiera.

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

Novel Food #4: the finale (one serving)

The summer solstice brought us a thunderstorm, a calm ocean and some amazing skies. Another season is starting. Novel Food, the literary/culinary event Lisa of Champaign Taste and I started last year, is here again, presenting some interesting literary works that inspired the preparation of dishes. Each contribution is a double invitation: to read a literary work and to taste a dish inspired by it. As usual, Lisa and I had fun organizing the event. This time, it is going to be a cozy getting together, a little tea party where we talk literature and food. I cannot think of a better way to spend some summer/winter time. And now, without delay, here is one set of morsels: Enjoy them!

The first invitation comes from Ruhama of rumahama. The book that inspired her is, aptly enough, Invitation to the Game by Monica Hughes.

The story is set in the year 2154. There are some problems in the future described in the book: robots have replaced humans and, as a result, humans are unemployed. In this sad situation there is still room for culinary creativity, though: Benta brings to her friend Lisse eggs and cream and with those ingredients, they make fresh egg pasta with cream sauce. Ruhama made some beautiful fresh egg pasta, and then prepared Fettuccine Alfredo, a comforting dish.

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Sara of Heaven on Earth introduces us to Seymour an Introduction by J.D. Salinger.

The excerpt Sara uses to give us a sense of the story is an appetizing read: "At about nine, I had the very pleasant notion that I was the Fastest Boy Runner in the World." The run has to do with getting some Louis Sherry ice cream. Sara tells us that "Louis Sherry was a high end confectioner. Ice cream, chocolate and jam." Not knowing what flavor(s) is involved in the story, Sara chooses to make Peppermint ice cream, using candy canes from the Christmas tree, a refreshing dish (especially after a fast run).

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Johanna of Green Gourmet Giraffe has chosen The Memory Keeper’s Daughter by Kim Edwards.

A doctor delivers his own twins, a healthy boy and a Down girl. He asks his nurse to take the baby girl to an institution, but she raises the child as her own. The real mother's grief for the loss affects the family relationships. Johanna tells us about a meal the wife prepares for her husband that ends up being abandoned. The episode inspires Johanna to prepare Sicilian drowned broccoli (broccoli affogati), a consoling dish.

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Manuela of Baking History tells us about the novel The Inn at Lake Devine by Elinor Lipman.

The protagonist of the story embarks in a personal crusade against bigotry and social injustice and finds love in the process. She also finds her call to become a chef. A reference to Linzertorte prompted the recreation, based on the original recipe, of the dessert, for our enjoyment, an elegant dish.

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I went back to Andrea Camilleri and his inspector Montalbano, with The Paper Moon.

Montalbano is disturbed by thoughts about his death, and by two women involved in a murder. Everybody has dark secrets to hide. One evening, on coming home, he finds that his faithful Adelina has prepared for him a bowl of Caponata di melanzane, a traditional Sicilian dish that marries sweet and sour flavors in a sumptuous composition, a Mediterranean dish.

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If you started the party for the fourth edition of Novel Food here, make sure you travel to Lisa's blog, where another serving of morsels is waiting for you (make sure to refill your tea cup, if it is empty). They include Lisa's own contribution, where she introduces us to Alice Waters and Chez Panisse by Thomas McNamee.

What better dish to go with the book than Panisses?

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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'. We hope to see you then.

Novel Food #4: caponata di melanzane

(a.k.a. caponata siciliana) eggplant (or Sicilian) caponata

Tornò a la casa, raprì il frigorifero. Adelina doviva essiri stata colpita da un'acuta forma di vegetarianesimo. Caponatina e un sublime pasticcio di cacoccioli e spinaci. Conzò il tavolino della verandina e si sbafò la caponatina mentre il pasticcio si quadiava. Appresso, si liccò col pasticcio.

Back in the house, he opened the refrigerator. Adelina must have come down with an acute form of vegetarianism. Caponata and a sublime pasticcio of artichokes and spinach. He set the table on the veranda and wolfed down the caponata as the pasticcio was heating up. Then he reveled in the pasticcio.

As you may have already surmised, it is Salvo Montalbano who has just wolfed down a bowl of caponata (caponatina literally means small caponata), while sitting at the table on his veranda, facing the sea, and listening to its soothing sound. A while ago, Peter of Detectives Beyond Borders mentioned to me the quote above from La luna di carta (The Paper Moon) by Andrea Camilleri and I promised him I would try and make caponata, a traditional Sicilian dish, to celebrate the arrival of summer. And that is what I did, after reading again the novel for good measure and renewed pleasure.

La luna di carta is the story of a murder and it involves two women who, in different ways, attract Montalbano. One of them scores points with Montalbano by sharing with him the need to eat in silence. It is also the story of a Montalbano disturbed by thoughts about his death, a story of dark passions and drug dealing, a satisfying read.

According to the glossary of La Cucina Italiana, caponata "features cubed eggplants, celery, and onions - each one fried separately in a generous amount of olive oil - flavored with tomatoes, raisins, pine nuts, olives, a sprinkling of vinegar, and a touch of sugar for a characteristically sweet-and-sour flavor... Caponata is usually enjoyed as an antipasto in its native Sicily, but it also makes a lovely side dish and is quite delicious spooned onto crisp bread for crostini.

Caponata marries many flavors in an agrodolce (literally, sour-sweet) medley. I love melanzane, so I don't need special prodding to cook them, but I don't like them fried, so I bake them. Being a traditional and popular dish means that there are countless recipes for caponata, with ingredients (like bittersweet chocolate) added and subtracted depending on location. There are also different theories about the origin, evolution, and the etymology of its name. Since I don't have a family recipe to rely on, I felt free to experiment with whatever blueprint I chose. A year ago I read an appealing recipe on Saveur. I made several changes to both its list of ingredients and its procedure, based on my taste and various idiosyncracies. The result of my first attempt was really good, though not quite authentic. I think Sicilians, Montalbano et al., would not agree with my choice of not frying the eggplant, and you are welcome to side with them. Here is the list of the ingredients I used:

• 2 eggplants, cut into 1/2"-thick slices
• sea salt
• 1 large yellow onion, chopped
• 2 anchovies preserved in salt, halved, cleaned and chopped
  
• 3 ripe medium tomatoes, briefly immersed in boiling water, peeled, cored and coarsely chopped
• 2 ribs celery, thinly sliced crosswise
• 2 tablespoons blackberry and raspberry vinegar
• 2 tablespoons tomato paste
• 2 tablespoons golden raisins
• 2 tablespoons pine nuts, lightly toasted in a dry skillet
• 2 tablespoons capers, rinsed
• 12 pitted Kalamata olives, quartered (I like them better than green olives)
• 1 red bell pepper, roasted, peeled, cored, seeded, and chopped
• freshly-ground black pepper
• 2 tablespoons slivered fresh basil (from my pot)
• 2 tablespoons chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley (from my herb garden)

Note that, with respect to the Saveur recipe, I halved the quantity of vinegar and omitted the sugar. This is because, for my first try, I wanted to keep the sour and sweet flavors a bit toned down. I have a memory of a caponata eaten eons ago that was a bit too vinegary even for the vinegar lover that I am. I also used a berry vinegar instead of a red wine one, for no reason other than because I like it. I love anchovies and make generous use of them. You may decide to be more guarded.

Sprinkle the eggplant slices with salt and let them stand for an hour, then remove the excess salt and pat them dry. Distribute on a baking sheet and bake at 425 F for 15 minutes, then flip and bake for the same amount of time. When cool, cube (1/2") the eggplant.

Generously spray with olive oil a pan and add the onion and anchovies. Cook for 5 minutes, then add the celery and cook on low heat for 10 minutes. If the pan becomes dry, add a bit of the juice from the chopped tomatoes. Add tomatoes and turn up the heat to medium-low. Cook 5 minutes, then add the vinegar and tomato paste. Mix to dissolve the paste. Cook 3-4 minutes. Add cooked eggplant, raisins, pine nuts, capers, olives, roasted pepper. Cook until everything is hot. Add salt and pepper to taste. Transfer to a plate and let cool slightly. Sprinkle basil and parsley on the top. Let the caponata cool before serving it. Better yet, store the caponata for a day in the fridge, take it out in advance and serve at room temperature.

I made the caponata before dinner and we ate it lukewarm. I was very happy about the result. The day after, it was definitely better. The flavors of the different ingredients come together in a sumptuous chorus, where each voice is distinguishable, but also works in harmony with the others. Caponata has a rich flavor. It reminds me of Sicily: its colors, its many architectural styles, its composite historical heritage.

This is my contribution to the fourth edition of Novel Food, a seasonal literary/culinary event that Lisa of Champaign Taste and I concocted a year ago and have been co-hosting ever since.

This post contains my portion of the roundup and a link to Lisa's portion.

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

gnocchi dolci

sweet gnocchi

I often make gnocchi di patate when I have guests, with a simple tomato sauce. I have yet to find a gnocchi disliker. When Bruno (Australian of Italian origin) wrote to me a little while ago asking me whether I knew how to make gnocchi dolci, I had to admit I was at a loss: I had never heard of them. Bruno, on the other hand, grew up eating his mother's gnocchi dolci.

The tricky part of trying to make gnocchi dolci was that, differently from Bruno, I had no memory associated with them, hence no benchmark to evaluate whatever version of the recipe I would come up with. In any case, I was intrigued by the challenge and got down to work. A bit of online reading told me that the dish comes from Friuli-Venezia Giulia, a region in the north-eastern part of Italy and, though it is sweet, it is served as a primo piatto (first course). Gnocchi dolci are potato dumplings with a fresh or dried fruit or jam filling. They are cooked in boiling water, then seasoned with bread crumbs toasted in butter and finally dusted with sugar mixed with a bit of cinnamon. I have seen recipes that use prugne (plums), prugne secche (prunes) or marmellata di prugne o albicocche (plum or apricot jam) as filling (ripieno).

In my experiments I used a couple of different sugarless fruit spreads, instead of jam, and, in my most recent attempt, some ciliegie (cherries), since plum season has not yet started in my area. Each batch had the following ingredients:

• 500 g (1.1 lb) russet (baking) potatoes
• 1 egg
• about 1/2 cup regular flour
• fruit spread of choice (pitted fresh cherries in a portion of the last batch)

Boil the potatoes until tender (I usually bake the potatoes at 400 F), drain and let cool, then peel and mash them with a ricer or food mill. Add the egg and 2/3 of the flour, sifted, and mix with a wooden spoon. Pour the dough on a working surface and knead until smooth, dusting flour over the surface, as needed, to prevent sticking. The recipes I have seen use more flour than I do, but I am happy with the soft consistency of my dough. Cut the dough into three parts, roll each one into a rope, and cut each rope into six pieces. This size worked well with a small quantity of fruit spread (1/2 teaspoon) or a cherry.

Flatten each piece of dough, place the filling in the center and close the dumpling around it, making sure it is well sealed. Using pitted cherries has made me realize that fresh fruit is easier to handle than fruit spread, because the latter tends to leak when you close the dumpling. Place the gnocchi on a plate, then dust them lightly with flour. 

Bring a pot of water to a boil and drop in it some of the gnocchi making sure they are not crowded. When they surface, they are ready and can be retrieved from the pot with a slotted spoon and placed in a covered bowl. In the meantime, prepare the topping. I decided to make a light dish, so I employed very little butter. Also, since the fruit spread is sweet, I limited the amount of sugar I sprinkled on the gnocchi. These are the quantities I used, which can be increased to please your taste:

• 2 tablespoons unflavored breadcrumbs
• 2 tablespoons unsalted butter
• 1 tablespoon sugar mixed with cinnamon to taste

Toast the breadcrumbs in a small frying pan, then add the butter. Stir on low heat until the breadcrumbs are well coated. Place the cooked and drained gnocchi in a gratin dish and distribute the buttered breadcrumbs over them, then sprinkle with the cinnamon-laced sugar (photo on the left). Place gratin dish in a warm oven with the broil setting on for 5-10 minutes until everything is nice and warm (photo on the right) and ready to be eaten.

Bruno remembers eating the toasted, buttered and sweetened breadcrumbs left in the pan after all the gnocchi had been removed, a sweet memory in more ways than one. I have no idea how my gnocchi dolci compare to the ones made where they are traditional: I welcome comments and suggestions. In any case, I enjoyed eating them and sharing them with guests. I have also enjoyed my email exchange with Bruno on this subject. My special thanks to him for giving me the chance to experiment with a dish I did not know. The experiments will continue and I am planning to write a follow-up post after I make gnocchi di prugne.

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

cobbler di fragole

strawberry cobbler

I am not aware of an Italian dessert that resembles cobbler. If any of you is, please let me know. Until then, I will use the original name to describe what I made.

It is actually the first time I try my hands at this dessert, which is quite easy to make, its main requirement being (in my opinion) starting with good quality fruit. The inspiration to explore cobbler-making came from two things: ripe, dark orange apriums (apricot and plum hybrids, with apricot dominating¹) at our local Co-op, and a recipe for apricot cobbler from Gourmet magazine that seemed just about right, once I made a couple of adjustments to it:

1. I used 3 tablespoons of sugar, instead of 7 (if the fruit is ripe, not much sugar is needed)
2. I substituted 1/4 of the regular flour with the same amount of whole-wheat pastry flour
3. I sprinkled only one teaspoon of sugar over the surface of the cobbler before putting it in the oven, instead of two.

I am embarrassed to say that, even though I produced three specimens of aprium cobbler in less than two weeks, all greeted favorably by the audience around the table, I failed miserably in the documentation phase, and therefore have no photos to support my claim of success.

For my fourth try, I decided to use fragole, because 'tis their season and it is hard not to get inspired by them. For the strawberry version, I made the following adjustments to the recipe I used for the aprium version:

1. one tablespoon of corn starch instead of flour with the berries (for no particular reason),
2. vanilla extract instead of almond extract, because I thought it would go better with the strawberry flavor
3. a teaspoon of balsamic vinegar instead of the lemon juice, because I have been using balsamic vinegar to season strawberries a lot this season, and in any case I was out of lemons.

This time, I made sure to take a photo, which turned out to be a lot less successful than its subject, partly because of light issues. Cobbler and gelato make a happy couple and it is fun to test different combinations. For the strawberry cobbler, I'd suggest vaniglia or cioccolato. I suspect that anice stellato also works well: I will confirm this suspicion as soon as I gather the necessary data.

This is my answer to Francesca of francescav's question: E voi cosa avete preparato con le fragole? (what have you prepared with strawberries?)

¹ Addendum about apriums (and pluots):

Pluot® & Aprium® are "interspecifics" - complex hybrids of plum and apricot. Pluot® has predominantly plum parentage and smooth skin like plums, Aprium®, with very little fuzz, resembles apricots in the expression of its 'cot parentage.

And another page from the same site that has additional information on the different varieties.

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

pastiera col cioccolato

I have recently written about my first attempt at pastiera. In that post, I mentioned using only half of the gift ingredients, to make a more manageable pastiera and also to allow me a second chance. Given that the worst-case scenario did not materialize, I decided to use the remaining grano cotto (cooked wheat kernels), acqua di fiori d'arancio (orange flower water) and cedro candito (candied citron) to make a pastiera that included chocolate in its filling. I believe that (almost) anything tastes better with some good quality bittersweet chocolate (cioccolato amaro).

For the chocolate variation, I made the pasta frolla (or pastafrolla, sweet shortcrust pastry) with 1/3 cup sugar instead of 1/2 cup and added 1/3 cup sugar to the egg yolks, again instead of 1/2 cup. I then shaved 2.5 oz extra-dark chocolate (70%) and added it to the ricotta mix. Everything else was as in the previous recipe. This time, I baked the pastiera the day before I served it.

My quality assurance department and I liked both versions: they are different and each has its own strengths. What is my next step, you may wonder? I bought some soft wheat to make grano cotto (which can be used in other dishes) at home, and I will continue the gift chain that got me the secret ingredients by sending a surprise package, in due time, to... [to be continued]

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

cinque canzoni

five songs

Lenny of Una finestra di fronte has tagged me with a meme pertaining the five most beautiful songs. There is no food in this post, only music, which is another one of my passions, so I welcome the opportunity to write about it. I interpreted the specification "most beautiful" as meaning "for me," so this is a rather opinionated post. This is fun for me, but it is going to be difficult to make it meaningful for my non-Italian readers, since three of my choices are Italian songs from some years ago. Looking at the lyrics made me realize how words and music work in them and how difficult it would be to make them justice in translation. In any case, for each song, I found a video on YouTube, in case you'd like to listen to it and, for the Italian artists, I found a wikipedia entry.

I will start with my favorite Italian song, La donna cannone from cantautore (singer and song-writer) Francesco De Gregori (English translation of the lyrics). Listening to it always makes my eyes sparkle with delight.

Then there is Io vorrei... non vorrei... ma se vuoi by Lucio Battisti. It is another intense song that kept me company during my teenage years: I wrote its lyrics on my school diary year after year.

The last Italian entry is Amore bello by Claudio Baglioni. Pretty much all his songs are great, and a number of them are connected to specific moments or people of my life. (In this case the video's quality is poor, but the concert is recent and it was held in the US.)

The first English song in my personal hit parade is Every Breath You Take by The Police. Still a great song to listen to, still fresh. 

The first time I visited my husband in California, we took a car trip to Lake Tahoe and then Alpine County. On the road, we listened to a collection of songs by George Gershwin. My favorite was, and remains, They Can't Take That Away From Me.

I have decided not to tag anybody in particular with this meme, but to invite anybody who feels inspired to answer it: believe me, it is fun!

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

pastiera

I am aware that Easter (Pasqua) is the traditional time for pastiera. Last March, I had a vague desire to try and make it, but then decided to put it off until next year. However, Marta, An Italian in the US, forced my hand, so to speak, by bringing me as gift some "secret ingredients" from Italy. I have read that nowadays pastiera is available throughout the year, so I guess it is fine if I talk about it now.

Marta gave me a can of ready-to-use grano cotto (cooked wheat kernels), a vial of acqua di fiori d'arancio (orange flower water) and some cedro candito (candied citron). What I was left with was the task of finding fresh ricotta, making the crust and assembling the whole thing. The can of grano cotto had a recipe printed on it similar to this one, available also in English here. Several momentous decisions informed my next steps. First of all, although I bought 1.5 lbs of fresh cow-milk ricotta, I decided to halve the recipe to make a more manageable pastiera, use the 9" pie pan¹ I already had, and give me a second chance, if anything went wrong the first time.

The other decisions pertain the changes to the recipe. For the pasta frolla, (or pastafrolla, sweet shortcrust pastry) I used one of Artusi's recipes, which is a classic. It was beautifully presented recently by Baking History in this post. The change I made to the original recipe in this occasion is the use of 1 cup of regular flour and half a cup of whole-wheat pastry flour, then more regular flour to knead the dough (a quarter cup or so). I always use extra-large or large eggs. The changes I made to the recipe for pastiera quoted before pertain a bit more than just halving it. The list of ingredients is as follows:

• half a can of grano cotto (about 200 g)
• a scant quarter cup of milk (I used non-fat)
• no butter
• grated zest of half a lemon
• 3/4 lb fresh ricotta (not from a tub)
• 1/2 cup of granulated white sugar
• 3 eggs, separated
• 50 g of candied citron
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
• 1/2 vial of orange flower water

In a small pan, I warmed up grano cotto, milk and grated lemon zest and cooked for 10 minutes, stirring often. In a small mixing bowl I beat the egg whites until soft peaks formed. In a bigger mixing bowl, I beat egg yolks and sugar, then added ricotta and beat a bit longer. I switched to a spatula and folded in grano cotto³, candied citron, vanilla and orange flower water. Finally, I folded in the egg whites.

After lining the pie pan with the sweet shortcrust pastry, I poured the filling and decorated its surface with a lattice of pastry strips. I had a good amount of leftover (partly because I don't like the crust too thick, partly because I used a pie pan), so I made something with it. Hold on, not here, the story will be told in another post. I baked the pastiera for one hour in the oven preheated to 350 F, until the surface was golden (I recommend checking your pastiera after 40 minutes, and adjust the baking time as needed). I then turned off the oven and let the pastiera rest for about half an hour in it before taking it out. I let the pastiera cool and then sprinkled the surface with a tablespoon of zucchero vanigliato (vanilla-flavored powdered sugar), which I make by leaving vanilla beans leftover from making ice cream into the powdered sugar jar.

I could not wait, so we had a slice the evening of the day I baked it. However, a longer resting period allows the flavors to blend, so make it at least the day before you would like to serve it, a recommendation I followed in the case of my second pastiera, whose story, i.e., recipe, will be told in a soon-to-be published post.

Many thanks to Marta for the wonderful surprise, which has nudged me to make a dessert whose first bite, many years ago, I still remember as a gustatory dream.

I am now supposed to send a secret ingredient and a recipe for it to other bloggers. I will do so and will update the post when it happens.

¹ After making pastiera col cioccolato, I bought a 9" round cake pan and henceforth used it.
² In reading again the recipe, I realized I have left out the grano cotto from the list of ingredients added to the beaten egg yolks and ricotta mixture. Apologies to the early readers.

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