briciole

scone

I first tasted a scone the second time I was in England to study. It was accompanied with jam and clotted cream. It was quite different from anything I had tasted before and it was love at first bite.

The table was covered with a checked red-and-white tablecloth that matched the counterpane, and upon it was set a blue dish full of apples, a yellow jug of milk, a purple plate upon which were piled buttered scones, two green plates and two mugs to match.

What I like about this description is that it is colorful: red, white, blue, yellow, purple and green. To the list, pretty soon another one is added: salmon-pink, the color of the geraniums (gerani) that crowd the room where Marmaduke Scarlet lives. Maria, the protagonist of the novel The Little White Horse by Elizabeth Goudge (1946), visits Marmaduke's quarters towards the end of the book. Up until that point, she has only seen him while presiding in the kitchen, in the company of Zachariah, the cat.

The novel is a bit too rich in colorful characters to attempt even a brief description here, and maybe you already know all about them from reading the novel when you were a child, or having it read to you. I can see how children would be fascinated by the story, the characters, the places, the events. Had I read the story as a little girl, would I have wished to be Maria? I obviously cannot answer this question. I can tell you, though, that my favorite character was Serena, the white hare (lepre) that Maria rescues from the Men from the Dark Woods.

Back to the scones baked by Marmaduke Scarlet for Maria, I baked mine for my husband. In looking for a recipe to replicate, I had as requirement that it used buttermilk (latticello), which narrowed the list of candidates. Out of those I found, I chose this one. The changes I made were: no topping, and fresh raspberries (lamponi) or blueberries (mirtilli) instead of dried cherries (ciliegie). Another feature of the recipe that recommended it to me is that it makes a small number of scones: they are so much better when freshly made and a small number is perfect for our small household.

I made the recipe three times. The first time, I used raspberries and shaped the dough (which was rather sticky, due to the broken-down fresh raspberries) into 8 rounds, while the second time (also with raspberries) I shaped the dough into a single round, then scored it into 8 slices, which I separated a few minutes before the end of baking time, then put back into the oven, to obtain crispy edges all around.The third time, I used blueberries and went back to the separate round shapes (see photo). I never measured the fruit. I estimate that I had about half a cup of raspberries and a cup of blueberries.

In the pages that follow the little scene that inspired me, Marmaduke outshines himself by preparing a banquet for 30 people, whose menu includes famous English dishes that I know (syllabub, plum cake) and a lot that I don't (Cornish pasty, Devonshire splits). In earlier chapters, he consistently provides delectable repasts for the inhabitants of Moonacre Manor.

One last note. In part 3 of Chapter 9 there is the Spring Song:

Praised be our Lord for our brother the sun...
Praised by our Lord for our sister the Moon...

St. Francis of Assisi (San Francesco d'Assisi, 1181/2-1226) wrote a beautiful poem in praise of brother sun (fratello sole), sister moon (sorella luna), mother earth (madre terra), etc. In Italian, the poem is called Cantico delle creature, while in English it is called Canticle of the Sun. I investigated possible links between Ms. Goudge and St. Francis and found that she wrote a book about his life, published in 1959.

This is my contribution to the third edition of Cook the Books, hosted by Rachel The Crispy Cook. You can find the guidelines for participating in the event here, and here is the announcement of the current edition.

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

piselli mangiatutto

snap peas or sugar snap peas
As long as I lived in Italy, the only peas I ate were shelled peas. As a child, shelling peas was a task assigned to me and one that I did not enjoy, because I did not like eating peas. I welcomed the appearance on the market of frozen peas: at least, I did not have to shell those. I remember the slogan of the advertisement for the first brand of frozen peas: colti sul fatto e surgelati all'istante. It is a play on words: the verb cogliere means to pick, but cogliere sul fatto means to catch red-handed. The slogan conveyed the idea that the peas were picked at their best and immediately frozen (surgelati all'istante) to keep them pristine — at least that is how I interpreted it.

In time, I learned to like peas, at least in some dishes. When I moved to the US, I tasted first snow peas and then snap peas. According to this page, the Italian translation of both snow peas and snap peas is piselli mangiatutto, which means peas of which one eats (mangia) everything (tutto), the pod (baccello) and the peas inside — after removing the top and the lateral string¹. It took some time before I cooked some snap peas. Receiving some in my CSA box was an incentive to get more familiar with preparing them.

I wanted a simple recipe and I am partial to roasted vegetables. A search on the web returned the perfect recipe: roasted snap peas with shallots (piselli mangiatutto arrosto con scalogno), from EatingWell Magazine. I followed the recipe almost to the letter, minus the optional bacon. The dish is easy to make and you can get the peas ready while the oven warms up. I like simple side dishes that can be prepared quickly as an ideal complement to a more elaborate main course.

I have already made these roasted snap peas with shallots several times, but each time I have failed in the photograph-taking part. So, once again, I am showing you something rather unrelated, but visually more appealing: the glorious blooming of my first red poppy (papavero rosso). Some time ago, I saw some poppy seedlings at the farmers' market: the label said that they would be good for harvesting poppy seeds. I did not ask what color the poppies (papaveri) would be: I wanted a surprise. I love our bright orange California poppies, but I have a soft spot in my heart for the red poppies of my Italian childhood, so the surprise bloom brought a big smile on my face. Considering my poor gardening skills, I am already thrilled by the result of my little poppy adventure.

¹ According to the page referenced above, snap peas can also be called taccole in Italian. The photos of taccole I have seen on the web, however, make me think of snow peas, rather than snap peas. The two varieties differ in the shape of their pods: flat (snow peas) versus round (snap peas, as you can see in the photo above).

This post is my contribution to the current edition of Fresh Produce of the Month, an event created by my friend Marta, An Italian in the US, that this month focuses on piselli.

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

Edizione speciale: Novel Food #8

Special Edition: Announcing Novel Food #8

Calling all readers with a passion for cooking and cooks with a love of literature: the new edition of Novel Food, the culinary/literary event that Lisa of Champaign Taste and I co-launched a few seasons ago is here again.

As in the previous editions, we are interested in published literary works (a novel, novella, short story, memoir, bio, poem) that provided you with culinary inspiration.

If you are new to the event, and you are wondering what it is about, follow this link to view my portion of the roundup of the previous edition. There, you will find a link to Lisa's portion of the roundup.

Rest assured, this is a fun event. And at the end, you get a nice reading list, which will keep you company until the next edition rolls around, later in the year. It will be a special summer reading list.

Here are the simple rules for participating in Novel Food:

1. Prepare a dish of your choosing that has a connection to a published literary work (novel, novella, short story, memoir, bio, poem).
2. Publish a post about it on your blog by the end of Saturday July 18, 2009 (midnight, Pacific Time), referencing the Novel Food event. Include a link to this or to Lisa's announcement. If you wish, you can use the Novel Food logo.
3. Send an e-mail to Lisa (champaigntaste AT gmail DOT com) or to me (simosite AT mac DOT com) and include your name, blog name and blog address, and a permanent link to your post. Please, include the words "Novel Food" in the email subject, so we can more easily retrieve the message in our inbox.
4. Non-English submissions are fine. If possible, include an introduction in English.

If you don't have a blog, send us an email telling us about the recipe, the literary work that inspired it, and, if you have it, a picture of what you made: we will add it to the roundup as well.

Note: If you don't receive an answer to your email or a comment on your post within two days of sending me or Lisa the email, please contact us again: sometimes email messages get lost in cyberspace.

Lisa and I will do a roundup soon after the deadline.

ravioli cinesi

For the second Daring Cooks challenge, Jen from use real butter chose Chinese dumplings / potstickers. You can find the recipe for the dumpling dough, two fillings and dipping sauce, plus instructions on preparing, assembling and cooking the dumplings here. Jen shared with us also a post she wrote that contains step-by-step instructions with beautiful photographs.

I usually know better than wait until the night before the reveal date to do the challenge, but sometimes one can't help it and this was just one such case. Therefore I was a bit nervous: I knew I would not have time to redo the recipe, if anything went wrong.

For the filling, I decided to improvise on a vegetarian theme. I oiled a warmed up frying pan, then added a minced shallot (scalogno) and a couple of garlic cloves (spicchi d'aglio), the latter worked into a paste with half a teaspoon of sea salt. After a few minutes, I added half of a green cabbage head, sliced into thin ribbons and the ribbons chopped into pieces. Then I added a shredded carrot and finally, four large white mushrooms, chopped into rather small pieces. The small dimensions of all the prepared ingredients were in response to Jen's recommendation to avoid large pieces in the filling that would stick out and possibly pierce the dumpling skin.

When all the vegetables were warm and had started to soften, I added a good splash of white wine (vino bianco) and then let them cook until soft, stirring often. Towards the end, I added some turmeric (curcuma) and stirred, then half a cup of blanched and shelled small fava beans (fave). When I turned off the heat, I adjusted the salt and freshly ground black pepper.

I made the dough as directed, adding a bit more water to get the right consistency. Rolling the dumpling skins was a lot of fun. After the first few, I developed a sort of personal routine. I ended up cutting the pieces of dough bigger than specified, so my ravioli were rather oversize. I will do better next time. The folding and pleating was also fun and I was pretty proud of the look of my first batch. Will you believe me when I say that, as I was making the dumplings, I was also getting ready to cook a batch of gnocchi di ricotta that I had made earlier in the day?

After using half the dough, I decided to cook the dumplings and then make the other half for freezing. I chose the pan frying option and had fun watching the water sizzle and the dumplings change color under the transparent lid. I was starting to relax, as everything was going well, when I realized that, contrary to what I believed, I didn't have any chopsticks. We used our hands instead, which, considering the size of the dumplings, were probably a better option anyway.

I served my ravioli cinesi with straight soy sauce and the gnocchi di ricotta with some garlic scape pesto I had made in the morning. My husband loved both. My dumplings were "different" from others he had had before. After the first, introductory one, he had a few more. I thought that the skin could have been thinner, so in the second batch I made after dinner, which is now in the freezer, I tried to roll the dough a bit more.

By the time I served dinner, it was getting late on a gray day, so the light was not conducive to a good photo. I hope I'll be able to get a better shot when I cook the ravioli cinesi I froze. I am sure you will find a lot of photographs to admire, portraying the beautiful creations of my fellow Daring Cooks. A special thanks to Jen for a fun and, for me, culturally fascinating challenge.

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

la stagione dei lamponi

raspberry season
I love raspberries, so I was looking forward to the arrival of raspberry season. This week I had two baskets that I had to consume immediately, so I made risotto ai lamponi (raspberry risotto) and gelato alla vaniglia variegato al lampone (raspberry-marbled vanilla ice cream), both colorful dishes.

The risotto is quite pretty, besides being tasty. You will find my recipe in this post from last year. When I prepared the risotto last week, I had just made a batch of mascarpone and used two tablespoons of it to finish the risotto, instead of the fresh chèvre. This week, I used my  favorite, Cypress Grove's Purple Haze.

In the wake of the success of my recent gelato alla vaniglia variegato al rabarbaro (rhubarb-marbled vanilla ice cream), I decided to make the same vanilla ice cream (recipe in this post) and to marble it with raspberry purée. A couple of hours before churning the ice cream, marinate the raspberries with a teaspoon of agave nectar and half a teaspoon of balsamic vinegar (as described in this post), then shortly before needing it, purée the raspberries and press through a strainer. It is important to spend a bit of time pressing all the pulp off the pips, so the purée is nice and thick. I refrigerated the purée until ready to add it to the ice cream.

Once the gelato alla vaniglia was ready, I scooped it into a bowl and added the raspberry purée by spoonfuls, swirling it in with a spatula to create a marbling pattern ¹. As usual, I served the result to the head of my quality assurance department (a.k.a., my husband) and then we discussed the findings. The flavor of raspberries was probably a bit too prominent for a variegato, so next time I will try using less raspberry purée. I also want to try to fold the same amount of raspberry purée I used this time into the custard before churning it. I will run these tests soon and then report on the results.

The language corner. The four seasons (quattro stagioni) in Italian are: primavera (spring), estate (summer), autunno (fall), inverno (winter).

¹ I used a lidded plastic bowl, which then went into the freezer with the leftover ice cream, after I covered the surface of the ice cream with a square of wax paper. If, after the marbling, the ice cream had been too soft, I would have covered it with wax paper, put the lid on the container and allow it to spend a short time in the freezer until firmer, but still soft.

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

cavatappi e apribottiglie

corkscrew and bottle opener
On Friday afternoon, I went for a walk around my neighborhood with my camera. I usually walk with my husband, but that day he wasn't with me, so my camera was my companion. Among the vegetation along the side of our strada di campagna (country road), it was the tendrils of the Manroot that mostly inspired me. I am a poor botanist, so I am not sure whether I was looking at California manroot or Coastal manroot (if you have any suggestions on this matter, please, send let me know). The light green tendrils gave me the idea of writing about two kitchen items: cavatappi e apribottiglie.

I like to say cavatappi (corkscrew). The word tappo in Italian (plural: tappi) is generic and may indicate a cork (tappo di sughero), a crown cap (tappo a corona) and other types of caps, plugs and stoppers, depending on the context. My father likes to use the word tirabusciò to indicate a corkscrew. It is the Italianized version of the French tire-bouchon.

Apribottiglie literally means bottle opener (bottiglie is the plural of bottiglia, bottle). The one in the photo is a gift from a dear friend. Sometimes I take it out just to look at it and smile at its cute shape. In case you are wondering, it was made in Italy.

The apribottiglie makes me think of the following three beverages: Coca-Cola, gazzosa and birra (beer). When I was growing up, drinking carbonated beverages was reserved for very special occasions. As a consequence, I have never developed a taste for fizzy beverages.

Coca-Cola to me is the dark, sweet drink in its characteristic slender bottle, which occasionally I was allowed to have, usually at kids' parties. Gazzosa and birra were bought by my father for our (infrequent) picnics. I have never liked birra and always preferred wine (with water, of course, as I was still a child). Gazzosa (or gassosa) on the other hand, was a favorite of mine. It is clear, sweet, but not too sweet, fizzy, but again not overly so, with a delicate lemon flavor. My parents mixed birra e gazzosa, while I enjoyed my gazzosa unadulterated, at a nice, cool temperature, no ice. Some of you may be thinking: what's about Italians and ghiaccio (ice)? That's a story for another day.

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