briciole

Novel Food #8: quattro tipi di pane

four kinds of bread

He realized that, despite his fatigue, which was aggravated by the phone call, he felt hungry as a wolf. It was ten past six, not yet dinnertime. But who ever said you have to eat at an appointed time of day? He went into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. Adelina had prepared a dish fit for a convalescent: boiled cod. On the other hand, they were huge, extremely fresh, and six in number. He didn't bother to reheat them; he liked them cold, dressed with olive oil, a few drops of lemon, and salt. Adelina had bought the bread that morning: a round scanata loaf covered with giuggiulena, those delicious sesame seeds you are supposed to eat one by one as they fall onto the tablecloth, picking them up with your forefinger moistened by saliva. He set the table on the veranda and had himself a feast, savoring each bite as though it were his last.

As you may have guessed, "he" is Inspector Montalbano, the protagonist of novels and stories written by Italian author Andrea Camilleri. I had read Il giro di boa (Rounding the Mark), the novel from which the excerpt above is taken, shortly after it was published, in 2003, and recently I read it again. I lingered over this passage for several reasons. The first one is that it reminded me of my first visit to Sicily, many years ago now. I tasted bread covered with sesame seeds for the first time and loved it. Then, there is the great choice made by the novel's translator, Stephen Sartarelli, of leaving some of the original Sicilian words, especially giuggiulena, which sounds just lovely. I have read that the word comes from the Arab giulgiulan, meaning sesame seed. Sesame seeds (semi di sesamo in Italian) are used in two other delicious Sicilian specialties: reginelle and cubbaita. Finally, there is the philosophy behind Montalbano's approach to eating: savoring each bite as though it were his last. Words to live by.

Montalbano does not cook and does not ask Adelina (his housekeeper) to prepare for him a specific dish. He is happy with whatever he finds in the fridge or in the oven, and when he decides to eat, he devotes to the meal his full, undivided and loving attention: he sets the table, sits down to eat and savors each bite "as though it were his last." Eating on the run is a concept that does not have any place in Montalbano's world. As I wrote in my very first post on this subject, sometimes Montalbano supplements the food prepared by Adelina "with aulive, passuluna and a piece of caciocavallo (green and black olives and a typical southern Italian dream of a cheese)."

The peaceful image of food savored to the last sesame seed picked up from the tablecloth is in sharp contrast with the horrible crimes that are the subject of Montalbano's investigation in the novel, which contains references to current political problems and events. I won't give you more details, otherwise I may spoil your pleasure. Because you are going to read the book, aren't you?

Reading the excerpt and remembering the bread I ate while in Sicily inspired me to make bread with giuggiulena (sesame seeds). Also, Montalbano's love for olives (olive) suggested to me that he may like them in his bread. The end result is a set of four breads and references to their recipe.

Looking for a recipe for bread with sesame seeds, I found two on the King Arthur Flour's web site. The first one (called lunetta) uses mostly semolina flour (which comes from durum wheat). I suggest that you follow this recipe by weighing the ingredients, not measuring their volume (you can view the ingredients by weight on the recipe page). Also, make sure you get fine-textured semolina flour. To be on the safe side, I put the flour in the food processor and run it for a while before mixing it with water, then let the mixture rest for 15 minutes before proceeding with the rest of the preparation. Based on one of the comments on the recipe page, I used a whole egg to make the wash and baked the bread on a pizza stone (for longer than stated). Below there is a photo of the bread sliced¹.

The second recipe has less semolina flour and more white flour (I happen to have Italian-style flour, which I use in a recipe for pizza dough). The braid shape is not very evident in the photo. I chose this recipe, because I seem to remember that the bread I ate during my first visit to Sicily was shaped in a braid (treccia) a bread I also found in the atlas of Sicilian breads. In this case, I added a quarter cup of sourdough starter to the ingredients, as a personal touch.

Black Olive Cheeks (puccia) from Local Breads by Daniel Leader. You can read the recipe here. The only change I made is using less olives (1 cup), half of them oil-cured and half kalamata. I pitted and chopped the olives the evening before making the bread, after preparing the biga, so the morning after all the ingredients were ready. Don't be surprised if these panini (literally, small breads) disappear fast: they are delicious².

Finally, something special to surprise Montalbano: a challah bread made with mostly whole-wheat flour, compliments of Peter Reinhart. This was my first try at challah and in honor of the fact that when I buy challah, I usually get one with poppy seeds (semi di papavero), because it is my husband's favorite, I decided to devote half the surface to each kind of seed. A first challah experience and a very satisfying one.

Each of these breads has a different personality, due to the different ingredients. As my next step of my Montalbano-inspired exploration of the world of breads, I would like to try a recipe I found in a recently-purchased bread-making book, but first I need first to get some durum flour. More on this in a future post.

I wanted a photo showing sesame seeds ready to be picked up "with your forefinger moistened by saliva," so here you can see the S-shaped bread above sliced and spread with foods whose identity will be revealed in the near future. 

On May 23, 2009, Camilleri uncovered la statua di Montalbano (Montalbano's statue) in his home town (Porto Empedocle Vigata, see my first post for details on this name). If you follow the link and then click on the word avanti (forward) you can see a close-up. A month prior to the unveiling of the statue, Camilleri had written an article about it for the Italian newspaper La Repubblica in which he described how one day he had met a person strikingly resembling his Montalbano. The article ends with a reference to Luigi Pirandello's novel One, No One and One Hundred Thousand (Uno, nessuno e centomila), preceded by this words:

So già che molti diranno che non somiglia a Montalbano. E che altrettanti diranno invece che gli somiglia. È inevitabile: ogni lettore si crea un suo Montalbano.

I know that many people will say that it doesn't look like Montalbano. And just as many will say that it looks like him. It's inevitable: each reader creates his or her own Montalbano.

This is, as you may have guessed, my contribution to the eigth edition of Novel Food, a literary/culinary event that Lisa of Champaign Taste and I cooked up a few seasons back and have been co-hosting ever since.

The deadline for sending us your literary-inspired culinary creation is this Saturday, July 18, 2009, midnight (Pacific Time).

My portion of the roundup is here.

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

¹ I had never heard of a bread called lunetta, so I did a bit of search on the web. I found an atlas of Sicilian breads, which includes a reference to lunedde, votive breads with the imprint of a hand. Here I read that these panini are spiral-shaped and that the hand imprint symbolizes Our Lady of Sorrows. Unfortunately, I could not find a photo of lunedde nor a mention of sesame seeds on their surface, so I am not sure whether there is a connection. On the other hand, the pane casereccio di Lentini is S-shaped and covered with sesame seeds. There is also a crescent-shaped bread called laddu or ladduzzu, and the reason I looked at it is that the Italian lunetta means lunette. On this page there is a bread called lunetta that is crescent-shaped and seedless. In summary, I am still not sure about the Italian connections of KAF's lunetta. If anybody is able to provide information, I would be very grateful. 

² In the book, Leader says that he first saw these rolls in Lucca (Tuscany). A web search points to Puglia as the origin of a bread called puccia, a version of which is puccia with olives. Readers from Puglia, would you like to comment on this? There is also a bread called puccia in Veneto, made with rye flour.

Novel Food #7: tartina

canapé
The title of this post should have been tramezzino (triangular sandwich). But life had other plans and so it is tartina. By the way, in Italian we also use the word canapè. Tartine lined up on a tray were one of the attractions of parties when I was a child. Round or rectangular, made of pancarrè (also called pane in cassetta, sandwich loaf) and multi-layered: first butter, then slices of hard-boiled eggs or of smoked salmon, or some tuna salad, and finally gelatin. I think the latter was not always there, but it was a big hit with my young palate. 

But at the beginning, it was supposed to be sandwich, tea sandwiches to be precise:

RUTH: I am profoundly disturbed, Madame Arcati, and I want your help.
MADAME ARCATI: Aha! I thought as much. What's in these sandwiches?
RUTH: Cucumber.
MADAME ARCATI: Couldn't be better. [she takes one] Fire away.

I beg to differ, but I forgive Madame Arcati, since she is a charming character in Noel Coward's 1941 play Blithe Spirit. I have not seen the play itself, but I have enjoyed enormously the 42nd Street Moon's production of the 1964 musical inspired by it, called High Spirits. Our evening at the theater was great fun and it prompted me to read the actual play.

Charles Condomine invites Madame Arcati to hold a séance at his house. He doesn't tell her, but he is merely interested in observing her to get material for a book he's writing. His wife, Ruth, and two guests are also present. At the end, Charles is visited by the ghost of his deceased wife, Elvira, whom only he can see. Elvira becomes the ghost-in-residence of the Condomines' house, an unacceptable situation for Ruth. In the scene above, Ruth asks Madame Arcati to send Elvira back. This is not an easy task, and a few more things happen, culminating with an intense effort by Madame Arcati during which sandwiches are on stage, though they are not offered to any of the characters. By then there are two ghosts in the room. We then get to the final scene, where the focus is on Edith, the maid, and, briefly, on sandwiches again:

MADAME ARCATI: Give her a sandwich.
EDITH [drawing away]: I don't want a sandwich. I want to go back to bed...
CHARLES [handing EDITH the plate]: Here, Edith.
MADAME ARCATI: Nonsense—a big healthy girl like you saying no to a delicious sandwich—I never heard of such a thing—sit down.
EDITH [to CHARLES]: Please, sir, I...
CHARLES: Please, do as Madame Arcati says, Edith.
RUTH [sitting down and sniffing]: I haven't done nothing wrong.

You can enjoy the story from beginning to end by watching the play, or reading it like I did, or by watching the musical or one of the movies (1945 and 1956). I will not reveal what happens at the end, but I will tell you what is the closing statement (by a character that shall remain unnamed):

Good-bye again—parting is such sweet sorrow.

I have been experimenting with a King Arthur Flour's recipe for oatmeal bread (pane all'avena), which makes a very nice sandwich bread. The last specimen I produced was really excellent and therefore I decided to use it to make some tramezzini to offer to Madame Arcati, though I would hold the cucumber. At the last minute, however, I changed plans and decided to make butterless tartine instead. I have not yet asked Madame Arcati whether she likes tartine as well as she likes cucumber sandwiches. I trust she will.

To begin with, my oatmeal bread looks and smells a lot better than the white pancarrè of my childhood memory. The original recipe is available here. I made several changes to the ingredient list and one important change to the execution. As I mentioned in a recent post, every month I get some truly special grains as my share of the Shakefork Community Farm.

The share includes cracked oats, which make great oatmeal and which I am using in the bread. When I made the bread the first few times, I soaked the sifted cracked oats in the warmed up milk for half an hour or so before use. Then I took a class on making sourdough bread, and a brief exchange with the teacher made me try an overnight soaking for the cracked oats. The result has been such that I have been doing it ever since. With all my tweaks, the list of ingredients is as follows:

• 2.5 cups bread flour
• 1/2 cup fine whole wheat flour
• 1 cup cracked oats
• 2 tablespoon olive oil
• 1 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1 tablespoon honey
• 2 teaspoons instant yeast
• 1.5 cups warm milk (I used nonfat)
• 1/2 cups raisins or currants

And the difference in the execution is that I warm up the milk and soak the cracked oats in it overnight, in the fridge once the milk has cooled. The morning after, I warm it up again before use.

The toppings of my tartine were (from the left): frittatina decorated with sliced almonds (mandorle), muhammara and heart-shaped slices of Colby cheese; ricotta and miele alla lavanda (lavender honey); ricotta and marmellata di mirtilli (blueberry spread). Most of the ingredients were homemade by me (no, not the honey). My tartine, served for breakfast, were a success.

As a closing note, if you are interested in seeing the musical and you live in the Bay Area or thereabouts, the show is at the Eureka Theater in San Francisco and it will run until April 12. If you live in NYC or thereabouts, you can see the play at the Shubert Theater on Broadway.

This is, as you may have imagined, my contribution to the seventh edition of Novel Food, a literary/culinary event that Lisa of Champaign Taste and I cooked up a few seasons back and have been co-hosting ever since.

The deadline for sending us your literary-inspired culinary creations is this Saturday, April 4, 2009, midnight (Pacific Time).

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

pane alla ricotta

As you know, in the past few months I have been experimenting with homemade ricotta (ricotta fatta in casa). The most recent cheese I made is Stirred-curd Cheddar, according to recipe in the book Home Cheese Making by Ricki Carroll. I then proceeded to make ricotta with the leftover whey (siero di latte) and, though the result was not among my best, it was flavorful and creamy. I decided to use it to make something new: pane alla ricotta (ricotta bread), a recipe from the book Local Breads, by Daniel Leader, who says he obtained it from a Florentine baker. I like Local Breads a lot: it contains a nice selection of breads from different parts of Europe, each with background information and its own story. Christine of Christine Cooks introduced me to this book and I am very grateful that she did: it has become a trusted companion of some of my kitchen adventures.

I love making bread with interesting ingredients, like fresh herbs, olives, raisins, etc. I had the exact amount of ricotta to prepare one loaf (or half the original recipe, which makes two loaves). You can take a look at the recipe over at Andrea's Recipes. I used olive oil instead of butter and my homemade ricotta, which was not whole-milk, as it was made from whey (to which I added some milk, as described in my post).

Back to the bread, I loved the result: delicate is the keyword, describing both texture and flavor.

The interest about making bread with ricotta was kindled by a recipe for panini alla ricotta (ricotta rolls) that Francesca of francescav posted not long ago. Note that translating bread recipes between Italian and English requires translating the yeast quantity. In fact, in Italy we use lievito di birra, fresh yeast sold compressed in small cakes (25 g each) and available in the refrigerated section of grocery stores, rather than active dry yeast or instant yeast, the latter used by Daniel Leader in his recipes. I have never tried to make the conversion: there are rules on this page. However, as I read on this page, fresh yeast is sold in this country in cakes weighing 0.6 oz. or 2 oz. each, while 25 g correspond to 0.9 oz. I will come back to this topic after I have had a chance to do some testing.

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

crosta e mollica

crust and crumb
Having recently talked about the important action of spalmare qualcosa sul pane (spreading something on bread), I thought I would add a couple more words to the bread basket, so to speak. Crosta e mollica are the components of pane (bread). Molliche, the plural form of mollica, means breadcrumbs. Crosta is also used to describe a valueless painting. Un tozzo di pane is a piece of (usually old) bread. Here are two expressions that use the words:

• lavorare per un tozzo di pane, to work for a crust of bread
• vendere qualcosa per un tozzo di pane, to sell something for a trifle

Freshly-baked bread is pane appena sfornato and is the subject of the photos. After becoming comfortable with making bread using yeast — thanks in part to Daring Bakers and in part to the book Local Breads by Daniel Leader (the photo on the right shows his Czech Christmas braid) — I recently started becoming familiar with making sourdough bread.

I took a class offered at the Eureka Co-op, which was well-organized and very informative, and I went home with some starter, compliments of the teacher. Experimenting began soon after, and it is still ongoing, with encouraging successes and occasional lack thereof.

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

Lavash cracker

In Italian, we use the English word cracker. The singular and plural forms are identical¹.

Another month without tragic tales of disaster to tell: does it mean that I am getting better at handling the challenges? It it probably too early to tell.

I liked this month's challenge as it asked us to make something I had been wanting to try for a while, i.e., crackers. And I like that the recipe was light, more in the style of a flatbreads than of crackers I am familiar with. Once again, I read the recipe, followed it, and things worked out fine. The result of my efforts was highly appreciated. It was appreciated so much that a crunching noise became the soundtrack of the house. A second batch produced the same result. And the third followed suit. Hence, if a constant crunching does not irritate you, I recommend you give this recipe a try.

First of all, many thanks to the this month's hosts, Natalie of Gluten A Go Go and Shel of Musings From the Fishbowl. They left us free to top the crackers however we liked. And they asked us to create an accompaniment (dip, spread, relish or salsa) for them that was vegan and gluten free (vegano e senza glutine).

For my decoration, I simply opened the cupboard where my spices are jumbled together (disorder there reigns supreme) and let my hands go wherever they wanted. They chose semi di sesamo (sesame seeds), semi di papavero (poppy seeds), paprica (paprika), cumino (cumin), sale marino con tè verde matcha (matcha salt), zucchero non raffinato e cannella (unrefined sugar and cinnamon).

To go with the Lavash crackers, I made a batch of plum spread using agave nectar instead of honey (which I have been using to make my fruit spread local, but is not vegan). I don't call it plum jam, because the proportion of sweetener to fruit I use is about 1 to 10. For some reason, I don't feel comfortable about using pectin, so I just let my fruit spread simmer longer. The beautiful color comes from deep purple prugne I got at our farmers' market.

I hope you will take the time to go around and look at the gorgeous creations of my talented fellow Daring Bakers.

¹However, on Italian cracker packages one can often find crackers printed.

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

pane alle erbe

fresh herb twist
'Fresh herb twist' is not the literal translation of pane alle erbe, but it is the one chosen by Daniel Leader, author of the book from which the recipe came: Local Breads, Sourdough and Whole-Grain Recipes from Europe's Best Artisan Bakers. I have recently become interested in developing my bread baking abilities, an interest fostered by a couple of recent Daring Bakers challenges. Thanks to my dear friend Christine, I learned about this book and, now that I have it, I have started to use it.

For my first sampling of the book, I chose an Italian bread that I had not tasted before: pane alle erbe (herb bread), which the author learned about in Alto Adige/Südtirol, a region in northern Italy. What attracted me to the recipe was the use of farina di segale (rye flour), together with wheat flour, and of fresh herbs: rosmarino, timo e basilico (rosemary, thyme and basil), the first two of whom grow in my little herb garden. The nice shape of the bread also played a role in my choice, since all my bread production until then had been of a rather conservative appearance.

The book in general and the recipe in particular include all sorts of instructions that contribute to the happy outcome of your efforts. I was so happy with the outcome that I made pane alle erbe  again within a few days. The second time, I intentionally left a portion of one of the twists aside, because I had decided to experiment with canederli, or knödel, which are gnocchi made with pane raffermo (bread that is a day or two old) that are typical of Trentino Alto Adige. Variations of this dish use different ingredients. I did not have a recipe, so I looked around the web and, among all the ones I found, I decided to use this one as my guide. I made some adjustments to the recipe, the most important one being the omission of speck, an ingredient I did not have. Speck is a product of Alto Adige/Südtirol: it is made by de-boning, then curing and finally smoking a pig's thigh (here you can see the different production phases). It is really good and I recommend you try it, if you have the chance.

I cut the bread, 6.5 oz., into 1/4-1/2" cubes and placed them in a medium bowl. In a small bowl, I beat two large eggs with a pinch of salt and a sprinkling of ground black pepper, then added half a cup of non-fat milk. I poured the mixture over the bread cubes and mixed well. I let the bread rest for over an hour, mixing every now and then to make sure it absorbed the egg mixture and therefore softened.

In the meantime, in a small frying pan sprayed with olive oil, I cooked a shallot (a bit more than 1 oz.), minced, together with half a teaspoon of minced fresh rosemary until it was soft. When it was cold, I added the shallot to the bread, together with a sprinkling of ground nutmeg, two tablespoons of grated parmigiano, two tablespoons of minced fresh parsley and 1/4 cup of regular white flour. I mixed well and let rest for about half an hour.

With the help of a small measuring cup, I scooped up enough bread mixture to shape 2" diameter balls with my hands. I let each ball roll on a plate with flour so that its surface was coated, then set aside. I ended up with eight canederli. I cooked them, four at a time, in a saucepan filled with vegetable broth. I used a slotted spoon to gently immerse the canederli in the simmering broth and kept them there for 15 minutes, making sure the broth remained in a nice simmering state.

To my husband, I served two knödel in a bowl with some of the broth. I had one asciutto (dry) together with some roasted squash. This being the first time I tried to make this dish, I didn't have a frame of reference to assess the result of my experiment. I can tell you that my husband liked it and I did too. I am planning to make this recipe again, using speck, if I can find it, or adding more cheese to the mixture. I would also like to try other variations. Here is an update on this recipe.

This is my entry for Weekend Herb Blogging, a food blogging event started over two years ago by blogger extraordinaire Kalyn of Kalyn's Kitchen, hosted this week by the founder herself. Here is the roundup of WHB #127.

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

pane francese

French bread
though not any French bread, but Julia Child's French bread, from volume two of Mastering the Art of French Cooking, compliments of Breadchick Mary (The Sour Dough) & Sara (I Like to Cook), who hosted this month's Daring Bakers' challenge.

I grew up eating (and loving) sfilatini. Later on, I discovered that French people call them baguettes. For the challenge, however, I decided to follow this part of the instructions: "Making clean, sure cuts with a large knife or a bench scraper, divide the dough into:

• [...]
• 2 equal pieces for medium round loaves (pain de ménage or miche only)"

I made the bread twice. As usual, I hit some snags: that's to be expected, otherwise, why would it be called a challenge (sfida)? The dough is quite sticky, so the first kneading was a bit of a struggle. At some point I got nervous and started slapping the dough pretty hard: it was fun for me and good for the dough. Everything went pretty much as detailed in the great instructions that Mary and Sarah provided. The procedure was quite different from others I had followed so far for making bread: the shaping, the flipping before baking, the sprinkling with water while baking. And for a couple of those instructions I accidentally found out what the consequences were of not following: a painful discovery, believe me.

First of all, put a lot of flour on the cloth over which the bread rests before going into the oven. Put more than you think is enough and then add another bit for good measure. I thought I had floured my cloth well but I had not, and the result was a tug of war between me and the cloth that was holding fiercely to the bottom of my beautifully shaped pane. I was able to wrestle it, but the surface showed scars, a testimony to the struggle. This happened during my first try and, when I tried again, I used a lot more flour to prepare the cloth and the bread did not stick to it.

Second, if you are wondering why the oven rack needs to be placed on the top third of the oven, see on this photo what happened to me when I put a rack where it should go, but then put the baking stone with your gorgeous bread on the rack below the right one instead of on it. Fortunately, at the third opening of the oven for the ritual sprinkling of water, I realized my mistake and corrected it, so the rest of the baking occurred with the bread in the right place. As you can see, though, the proximity of the bottom surface to the heat source made it crack. The flavor was not impaired. This happened during my second try and I ascribe the mistake to a bit of hubris (a scholarly way of describing the I-know-what-I-am-doing attitude that can result in how-could-I-have-been-so-silly wonderment when faced with disaster).

While the flavor was good in both attempts, the first one yielded a prettier result. Having a beautiful bunch of flowers available, I took a pane e tulipano (bread and tulip) photo, and also a pane e ranuncolo (bread and Persian buttercup) one.

Make sure you use the Daring Bakers blogroll to guide you to look at the masterworks that were baked around the world by my fellow daring bread-makers. Thanks to our gracious hosts for the nice challenge.

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

pane alle patate delicato

tender potato bread
I grew up hearing stories of my paternal grandmother, Caterina, and of her pane fatto in casa (home-made bread). In the house there was a madia, a piece of furniture made of wood, with a lid on top, over which she would knead bread dough (impastare il pane) and inside which she kept flour (farina) and other items. Like the other women of the village, she did not bake her bread at home, but at the public oven (forno).

Nonna Caterina passed away when I was not even two years old. I never saw either my aunt Lucia or my mother making bread, so when I decided it was time for me to try, I had no model. In early summer of this year I moved my first tentative steps (i primi passi) and the results were encouraging, so I kept going. When I learned that Tanna of My Kitchen in Half Cups would be the host of the November Daring Bakers' challenge, my forecast was that we would be baking bread e c'ho indovinato (I guessed right).

A few years ago I bought a small bread making machine, which has gained the unenviable status of least-used appliance on my kitchen counter. My problem with it is not that it doesn't work: in fact, it makes a lovely mini loaf that is perfect for a small family, and it takes only 45 minutes to do its job. The problem is that it's not my idea of fun, because I don't get to do anything, beyond the initial placing of the ingredients. I love to knead bread, I enjoy the physical contact with the dough (pasta di pane). I like to see the dough leaven (lievitare), to feel its texture, to shape it into a loaf and put it in the oven. I relish the unmistakable profumo del pane appena sfornato (aroma of freshly-baked bread) that wafts from the oven. (Having said all that, after reading about the no knead bread here and here, I am curious to try.)

I got to do all that I like, and more, thanks to Tanna's choice of recipe: tender potato bread. Tanna's instructions were very detailed and encouraging for a principiante (beginner) like me. However, as always when I make something for the first time, I doubt my skill and expect disaster ambushing me behind every corner. This time I started worrying after the first hour of leavening, since I could not see a marked change in the dough. An hour later, however, things looked really nice and, by choosing the size of the bowl wisely, I avoided dough overflow (straripamento della pasta di pane).

The appropriate word to describe the dough is soffice (feathery): being a principiante, I kept the potato quantity towards the lower end of the range (8-9 oz) and used about 7 cups of all-purpose flour. I loved handling the dough: I used about 2/3 to make a loaf and, with the rest, mi è venuto il ghiribizzo (I had the whimsical idea) of making bread muffins. As I was shaping the muffins, I grabbed a few ingredients I had easy access to and used them to flavor (insaporire) them: semi di sesamo (sesame seeds), semi di girasole (sunflower seeds), uvetta (raisins), olive nere (black olives), pitted and halved, and pâté di olive (olive spread).

The loaf (filone di pane) was glorious. When it was cool, I cut a piece and froze the rest. Freezing bread is a great option for a family of two where one half is into baking big loaves. Nonna Caterina did not have that option, since she had no freezer. She baked bread once a week, which was a common schedule. As a result, as baking day approached, the loaves from the previous session were not as appealing, texture-wise, as they were when warm from the oven. This explains the existence of many recipes (like panzanella) that give new life to bread past its prime (pane raffermo).

I spent the morning after Thanksgiving making my second batch of tender potato bread. Once again, the loaf was a satisfying success. With the remaining 1/3 of dough this time I decided to make focaccia, but for some reason I could not make the dough to maintain the length and width I stretched it to, so I decided to apply a 'divide and conquer' approach and made focaccine. I sprinkled fresh rosemary over most of the small focacce, toasted squash seeds on one and currants on the last one, because homogeneity is really not my style.

Make sure you read the recipe for this delicious bread and use the Daring Bakers blogroll to guide you to look at the bread masterworks that were baked around the world by my fellow daring kneaders.

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

torta al testo

If you ever visit my home town of Perugia or its surrounding region, Umbria, this is a dish that I particularly recommend you try. Although torta usually means cake, this particular torta is more like a pizza: a simple water and flour dough is flattened and baked on the testo, a round slab of refractory material that is put on the coals beforehand to make it very hot. This is very much a dish of cucina casareccia (family-style cooking) and different families have recipes with slightly different variations.

The best way to eat the torta is right off the testo, cut into wedges while still hot, and stuffed with slices of prosciutto crudo. The heat of the torta warms up the prosciutto whose fat, as a result, becomes translucent. The combination is delicious beyond words.

In other parts of Umbria torta al testo is referred to with different names: for example, in the Gubbio area it is called crescia and the testo is called panaro. On this page there is a photo of a wedge of torta al testo col prosciutto.

Hear me pronounce the words (including a rendition of the accent my voice would have if I were to pronounce the words in Perugia) on the torta al testo audio file [mp3] or go to the torta al testo audio page for more listening options.

sfilatino

baguette
The word sfilatino derives from filo, thread, a reference to its long and narrow shape. It has currency in Perugia, where I grew up. In Milan, where I lived as a young adult, the word baguette is used. Bread is one of those food items (and there are many) whose tradition tends to be very local: as a result, names and flavors vary between different places. There are some exceptions, ciabatta being one of them.

I grew up eating a lot of sfilatini, because, before the advent of ciabatta, they were the type of bread my mother would use, together with cheese, prosciutto or salame, to make the snack I would bring to school. I never had lunch at school, because that was not the way our schooling system was organized, but we had time half-way through the morning, to eat our merenda.

Although I translate the Italian panino as sandwich, the food item I am referring to is quite different. You can buy a panino that has several ingredients making up its layers, but the home-made version is simply bread and one or two other ingredients, like cheese, or salame and cheese. Butter, other spreads, lettuce, tomatoes, onions, etc., are not included. My favorite panino is a piece of sfilatino, still warm from the oven, with prosciutto: pure gustatory bliss, no addition required.

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