briciole

trota al vino rosso

trout in red wine

 [cliccare il link per andare alla versione in italiano]

trout in red wine

With this post, I am starting an exploration of traditional dishes from the various regions of Italy in the company of other bloggers. We start from the north-west corner of the country, a small region called Valle d'Aosta (Aosta Valley), whose capital is Aosta.

I visited Aosta Valley twice, once with my high school class and more recently, with my husband. We stayed a few days in Courmayer, at the foot of Monte Bianco (Mont Blanc), and one day we took the funivia (cable car) to the Aiguille du Midi (you can then go down to Chamonix, on the French side, but we didn't do that). Below are a few images I took that day (the originals are slides).

 

 

 

Images from the Auguille du Midi

It was an amazing experience, especially the last portion, traversed inside a cozy egg-shaped car that stopped at regular intervals leaving you suspended in the deep silence of the mountains. This page shows the cable car route and this page has more photos of the spectacular trip.

To find a recipe representative of Aosta Valley, I turned to the Accademia della Cucina Italiana site and chose to prepare my rendition of the trota al vino rosso di Saint-Pierre. I have recently baked trout several times, so I was interested in trying a different recipe for a fish (pesce) I have always liked. I adapted the original recipe to use one trout instead of four, though the trout I bought weighed one pound, so it was fairly large. The English version of the recipe is available in the book by the Academy called La Cucina: The Regional Cooking of Italy. I did not have the wine called for, so I used red wine from Sonoma County (California). Also, I did not have time to prepare the recipe again before the deadline for the event, so I am adding a note pertaining plans for the future.

Ingredients:

• a trout, cleaned  [see Note 1 below]
• olive oil
• a small onion, minced
• half a large carrot, finely chopped
• a couple of sage leaves (foglie di salvia), thinly sliced
• the needles of a small rosemary sprig (rametto di rosmarino) (about 2 inches), minced
• 1/2 cup leftover roasted potatoes, diced (optional) [see Note 2 below]
• a cup of red wine, slightly warmed
• sea salt and freshly milled black pepper to taste

Note 1: the trout I bought weighed 1 lb and did not fit well in the largest skillet I had. The next time I make this dish, I will get two smaller trout (3/4 lb or so each) and double the amount of the other ingredients.

Note 2: I had some leftover roasted potatoes, cut into bit-sized pieces and decided to add them to the other vegetables, after dicing them. This ingredient is not in the original recipe.

Preheat oven to 350 F. Rinse trout and pat dry. Sprinkle a bit of salt and pepper inside and outside. Warm up olive oil in a skillet large enough to contain the trout. Choose a skillet that can go in the oven. Add onion, carrot and herbs, stir well and cook until the vegetables are soft, stirring often. Add the potatoes and stir, then add the trout. When it begins to brown, pour the wine over it. Turn up the heat to medium and cook for five minutes, then place the skillet into the oven to complete the cooking (about 15 minutes). The trout is ready when the flesh flakes easily with a fork.

Remove skin, debone the trout and serve with the vegetables.

This is my submission for the first installment of the Abbecedario culinario d'Italia (Italian Culinary ABC), an event organized by Trattoria MuVarA that will bring us to visit all the 20 regions of Italy using the alphabet as guide. A come Aosta is hosted by Mony of Gata da plar.

This post contains the list of contributions to the event.

Click on the button to hear me pronounce the Italian words mentioned in the post:

trota al vino rosso

or launch the trota al vino rosso audio file [mp3].

[Depending on your set-up, the audio file will be played within the browser or by your mp3 player application. Please, contact me if you encounter any problems.]

[jump to Comments]

trout, red wine, Italian recipe

Per i lettori italiani

trota al vino rosso

Con questo post, comincio un'esplorazione di piatti tradizionali delle regioni italiane in allegra compagnia (vedi sotto). Partiamo dalla Valle d'Aosta e il suo capoluogo, Aosta.

Sono stata in Valle d'Aosta due volte, in gita con il liceo e più recentemente con mio marito. Abbiamo alloggiato a Courmayer, ai piedi del Monte Bianco e un giorno abbiamo preso la funivia per l'Aiguille du Midi. Qui sotto ci sono alcune immagini della salita (le originali sono diapositive).

 

 

 

Imagini dall'Auguille du Midi

È un'esperienza incredibile, specialmente l'ultimo tratto che si fa in piccole cabine che si fermano ad intervalli regolari lasciandoti in sospeso nel silenzio profondo delle montagne. Questa pagina mostra il tragitto della funivia e questa pagina mostra delle foto del tragitto.

Per trovare una ricetta tradizionale della Valle d'Aosta ho consultato il sito dell'Accademia della Cucina Italiana e ho scelto di preparare una versione personale della trota al vino rosso di Saint-Pierre. Ho adattato la ricetta originale per una trota, che comunque pesava quasi mezzo chilo. Non avendo a disposizione il vino di Saint-Pierre, ho usato un rosso di Sonoma County (California). Non ho tempo di rifare la ricetta prima della scadenza dell'evento, quindi ho aggiunto una nota riguardante il progetto per la prossima volta.

Ingredienti:

• una trota, pulita  [vedi Nota 1]
• olio d'oliva
• una cipolla piccola tritata
• mezza carota grossa tagliata a dadini piccoli
• un paio di foglie di salvia tagliate sottili
• gli aghi tritati di un rametto di rosmarino (lungo 5 cm)
• patate arrosto avanzate tagliate a dadini (facoltative) [vedi Nota 2]
• 240 ml di vino rosso leggermente scaldato
• sale fino e pepe nero macinato fresco, a piacere

Nota 1: la trota che ho comprato pesava mezzo chilo e non entrava bene nella padella più larga che ho. La prossima volta che preparo questa ricetta, utilizzerò due trote più piccole (massimo 350 g l'una) e raddoppierò la quantità degli altri ingredienti.

Nota 2: Avevo poche patate arrosto (più o meno una patata tagliata a dadi) e ho deciso di aggiungerle, dopo aver tagliato i pezzi a dadini. Questo ingrediente non è compreso nella ricetta originale, ma ci sta bene.

Scaldare il forno a 180 C. Sciacquare la trota e asciugarla. Scaldare l'olio in una padella grande abbastanza da contenere la trota e che poi può andare in forno. Aggiungere cipolla, carota ed erbe aromatiche e mescolare bene. Cuocere fino a quando le verdure sono tenere, mescolando spesso. Aggungere le patate e mescolare, poi adagiare la trota nella padella. Quando è dorata, versarci sopra il vino. Cuocere a fuoco medio per cinque minuti e poi passare in forno per terminare la cottura (15 minuti circa). La trota è pronta quando la carne di sfalda facilmente.

Togliere la pelle, deliscare e servire la trota con le verdurine.

Questo è il mio contributo all'Abbecedario culinario d'Italia, un evento organizzato dalla Trattoria MuVarA che ci porterà a visitare tutte le regioni italiane utilizzando come guida l'alfabeto. A come Aosta è ospitata da Mony di Gata da plar.

Questo post contiene la lista dei contributi: che buon menu!

zucca "delicata" con sardine

delicata squash with sardines

[cliccare il link per andare alla versione in italiano]

Rule 7: Don’t overlook the oily little fishes.
If there’s one food you should be eating (and probably are not) it is the humble sardine. Sardines (Pacific, wild-caught) are one of the healthiest foods we can consume, according to health and environmental experts. These nutritional powerhouses are one of the best sources of omega-3 fats, with a whopping 1,950 mg/per 3 oz. (that’s more per serving than salmon, tuna or just about any other food) and they’re packed with vitamin D. [source]

The paragraph above was clearly written for me: while rationally I know that sardines should find a place in my diet, I am not charmed by them and so I have been respectfully ignoring them for years.

My current interest in sardines could be viewed as a New Year's resolution, but I actually started on this path at the end of last year, after finding an appealing product: canned sardines (sardine in scatola) in marinara sauce¹. The first recipe I developed with the new ingredients, after a promising debut, did not perform well the second time and I decided not to pursue it further. However, I had a leftover sardine, which I put to a different and interesting use. The resulting dish, a variation of a recipe I make fairly often, was good the second time around as well, so I am sharing it here. 

Print-friendly version of briciole's recipe for zucca "delicata" con sardine

Ingredients:

• a delicata squash (22-24 oz. / 650 g), cut in half lengthwise, seeds and strings removed (a grapefruit spoon is my favorite tool to do this)
• olive oil
• a medium shallot (scalogno), finely chopped
• leaves from a couple of sprigs of fresh thyme (timo)
• sea salt
• freshly milled black pepper
• 2 tablespoons currants (uva sultanina) or small raisins (uvetta)
• one or two canned sardines (see below)

Heat the oven to 375 F. Place the delicata squash, cut side down, on a baking sheet lined with a silicone mat. Bake the squash 30-35 minutes, or until soft. Once cool, scoop the flesh out of the skin (a grapefruit spoon is useful for this step as well) and mash with a fork.

Place currants in a ramekin and cover with lukewarm water. Warm up a bit of olive oil in a small frying pan. Add shallot and thyme leaves and cook until the shallot is soft. Add a bit of broth or water from the currants to keep shallot moist. Season with a bit of salt and pepper. Add cooked shallot and drained currants to the squash and mix.

If sardines are preserved in olive oil or water, drain them. If sardines are preserved in something else, like the marinara sauce in my case, there is no need to drain them. If you like, yYou can actually add a bit of the preserving sauce to the sardines as you mash them. How many sardines is up to you: I added a rather large one the first time and two the second time.

Open up each sardine, remove the central bone and mash with a fork. Add mashed sardines to the squash and mix well. Adjust salt and pepper and serve. (I did not serve a sardine together with the squash, as shown in the photo below: I just wanted to show how the fish looks like when taken out of the can.)

So, this is currently my way of eating healthy sardines, their flavor toned down by that of delicata squash. As long as delicata squashes are available, I'll be fine. Then, I'll figure out something else.

I am also planning to make the same dish using a different kind of squash. I have been drawing from my stash of delicata squashes, but I am almost at the end, while I still have other kinds of squash in my storage space. (As a side note, the squashes in the foreground above are Red Kuri.

This is my contribution to edition #315 of Weekend Herb Blogging, an event started by Kalyn of Kalyn's Kitchen, now organized by Haalo of Cook (almost) Anything at Least Once and hosted this week (the first one of the new year) by Haalo herself.

This post contains the roundup of the event.

Click on the button to hear me pronounce the Italian words mentioned in the post:

zucca "delicata" con sardine

or launch the zucca "delicata" con sardine audio file [mp3].

[Depending on your set-up, the audio file will be played within the browser or by your mp3 player application. Please, contact me if you encounter any problems.]

¹ The can of sardines in the photo is for information only: it is not an advertisement. I do not have a business relationship with the company referenced.

[jump to Comments]

winter squash, sardines

Per i lettori italiani

Regola numero 7: Non ignorate i piccoli pesci grassi.
Se c'è un alimento che dovreste mangiare (e probabilmente non lo fate) è l'umile sardina. Secondo gli esperti, le sardine del Pacifico (pescate in modo sostenibile) sono uno degli alimenti più salutari che possiamo consumare. Le sardine sono una delle migliori fonti di acidi grassi omega-3: 85 g ne contengono ben 1950 mg (più di salmone, tonno e praticamente qualsiasi altro alimento), e sono anche ricche di vitamina D. [fonte, traduzione mia]

Importante: Dopo aver tradotto il paragrafo qui sopra, ho cercato delle notizie sulla sardina del Mediterraneo, che è una specie diversa da quella del Pacifico. Purtroppo, secondo il Monterey Bay Aquarium Seafood Watch, la sardina dell'Atlantico che si pesca nel Mediterraneo è un pesce da evitare poiché è in declino e i branchi non sono gestiti in modo efficace dai paesi interessati. Se avete altre informazioni sul tema o fate una ricerca tra i prodotti disponibili presso di voi, fatemi sapere che cosa trovate (per esempio, sono curiosa di sapere se in Italia si trovano scatolette di sardine del Pacifico).

Il paragrafo in alto è stato scritto apposta per me: razionalmente, lo so che le sardine sono un cibo ad alto valore nutritivo e perciò dovrebbero trovare posto nella mia alimentazione, ma non mi piacciono molto e quindi le ho rispettosamente ignorate per anni.

Il mio interesse odierno viene dall'aver trovato al supermercato un prodotto interessante: sardine in scatola conservate in salsa marinara. ¹. La prima ricetta che ho creato per questo nuovo ingrediente, dopo un debutto promettente, non ha replicato la performance e quindi ho deciso di non farla più. Però mi era rimasta una sardina e certo non l'ho scarata ma l'ho usata in modo diverso e interessante. Il piatto, una variazione di una ricetta che faccio spesso, mi è piaciuto anche la seconda volta che l'ho preparato e quindi lo condivido in questa sede.

Ingredienti:

• una zucca "delicata" (650 g) tagliata nel senso della lunghezza e pulita (un cucchiaino da pompelmo è utilissimo sia per pulire la zucca che per rimuovere la polpa dalla buccia dopo la cottura)
• olio d'oliva
• 1 scalogno medio tagliato finemente
• le foglioline di 2 o 3 rametti di timo fresco
• sale e pepe macinato fresco a piacere
• 2 cucchiai (30 ml) di uva sultanina o uvetta piccola
• una o due sardine in scatola [vedi sotto]

Scaldare il forno a 190 C. Porre la zucca con la parte tagliata in basso su una lastra da forno coperta da un tappetino di silicone. Cuocere 30-35 minuti, o fino a quando non è morbida. Far intiepidire e rimuovere la polpa dalla buccia, poi schacciarla con una forchetta.

Coprire l'uva sultanina o uvetta con un po' d'acqua tiepida. Scaldare un po' d'olio in una padellina e cuocere lo scalogno insieme al timo. Aggiungere un po' di brodo o di acqua dell'uva per mantenere lo scalogno umido durante la cottura. Condire con un po' di sale e pepe e aggiungere alla zucca insieme all'uva scolata, poi mescolare.

Se le sardine sono conservate in olio o acqua, scolatele. Se sono conservate in una salsina come quelle che ho usato io, non c'è bisogno di scolarle e infatti potete aggiungere una piccola quantità della salsina alle sardine mentre le sminuzzate. Quante sardine? Sta a voi decidere. Io ne ho usata una piuttosto grossa la prima volta e due la seconda.

Aprire ogni sardina e rimuovere la lisca centrale, poi sminuzzare con una forchetta. Aggiungere alla zucca e mescolare bene. Correggere sale e pepe e servire. (Non ho servito una sardina insieme alla zucca, come si può pensare guardando la foto: volevo solo far vedere come appare la sardina una volta fuori dalla scatoletta.)

Questo è il modo in cui al ppresente mangio le sardine: il loro sapore di pesce un po' forte viene ammorbidito da quello della zucca. Quindi fino a quando ho a disposizione zucche, sono a posto. Poi mi inventerò qualcos'altro.

Ho anche in programma di provare ad usare un altro tipo di zucca, dal momento che ne ho diverse. (Le zucche in primo piano nella foto qui sopra si chiamano Red Kuri.)

Questo post è il mio contributo all'edizione numero 315 di Weekend Herb Blogging, un evento creato da Kalyn di Kalyn's Kitchen, organizzato ora da Haalo di Cook (almost) Anything at Least Once, la cui versione italiana è organizzata da Brii di briggishome, e ospitata questa settimana da Brii stessa.

Questo post contiene il raccolto dell'evento.

¹ La scatola di sardine nella foto è solo a titolo informativo; non è una pubblicità. Non ho alcun rapporto commerciale con l'azienda in questione.

spaghetti col tonno

spaghetti with tuna sauce

[cliccare il link per andare alla versione in italiano]

Spaghetti col tonno is a dish my mother prepared frequently for lunch on Friday and always for dinner on Christmas Eve, la vigilia di Natale. In the context of the Catholic tradition, fare vigilia means to abstain from eating meat the day before a particularly holy day, like Christmas.

The inspiration to prepare my rendition of spaghetti col tonno came a number of years ago, when I encountered a special kind of canned tuna: Albacore by Katy’s Smokehouse.

Katy’s albacore is hand packed with a little sea salt and nothing else. While roasting in the can, the sashimi-grade tuna releases some juice and oil. Concerned consumers can learn from this page of Seafood Watch why US Pacific troll- or pole-caught albacore is rated "best choice." Chances are, my favorite brand of tuna is not available in your area. If that is the case, information printed on the can label should allow you to select a product that fits Seafood Watch's recommendations and that is conserved in its own oil.

As mentioned previously, I am not yet following in my mother's footsteps in terms of bottling puréed tomatoes (pomodori). Until that happens, in cases like the current one, I open a can of organic tomato sauce, choosing a brand that has a minimum of added ingredients and that uses tomatoes grown in California.

Spaghetti col tonno is quick and easy to make. Almost all the ingredients can be stored long-term in your pantry, so with a little bit of planning you will always be able to bring this pasta to the table for the joy of your family and guests.

Printer-friendly version of briciole's recipe for spaghetti col tonno

Ingredients:

• 1/2 tablespoon olive oil (olio d'oliva)
  
• 2 cloves of garlic (3 if they are small)
  
• 1/2 tablespoon anchovy paste (optional, but nice)
• one 15 oz. can organic tomato sauce
• one 7.5 oz can Pacific troll- or line-caught albacore, hand packed and preserved in its juice
  
• 1 lb spaghetti
• coarse salt (sale grosso)
  
• 1/4 cup chopped fresh parsley (prezzemolo)
  

While a big pot with water is happily getting to boiling point, warm up the olive oil in a saucepan over low heat. Add garlic and let the oil absorb the garlic’s flavor for a couple of minutes (making sure the cloves don't brown). Add anchovy paste, if using, and stir it into the oil. Pour the tomato sauce into the pan, bring slowly to a low boil and cook on low heat, covered, for five minutes.

In the meantime open the can of albacore and empty it into a small bowl. Flake the fish with a fork and mix to stir the juices back in, then add it to the simmering tomato sauce. Stir well, then cover the pan and let the sauce cook over low heat for another 10 minutes. When the sauce is ready, add the parsley, turn off the heat, mix well and cover again.

“Don’t cook the parsley!” says my mother’s voice, indelibly recorded in my brain and able to play itself at the appropriate moment.

When the water has reached a rolling boil, add a handlful of coarse salt, stir, then toss in the spaghetti and cook for the amount of time printed on the package (taste a strand one minute before the time set). Drain the spaghetti and pour it in a serving bowl, then toss it with the sauce, remove the garlic cloves (obeying my mother’s peremptory “Don’t leave the garlic in!”) and serve immediately.

Once you have finished eating your portion of spaghetti col tonno, you can fare la scarpetta.

This is my contribution to edition #213 of Presto Pasta Nights. The event was created by Ruth of Once Upon a Feast and is hosted this week by Jacqueline of Tinned Tomatoes. This post contains the roundup of the event.

I am also sending this post to Tin Can Recipes, a monthly event that will run until the end of this year. The organizers are Ale, Fra, Sere and Paola of Il Giardino degli Aromi and Brii of Briggis recept och ideer and Briiblog in English. The rules for participating are detailed on this page. This post contains the roundup of the event.

Click on the button to hear me pronounce the Italian words mentioned in the post:

spaghetti col tonno

or launch the spaghetti col tonno audio file [mp3].

[Depending on your set-up, the audio file will be played within the browser or by your mp3 player application. Please, contact me if you encounter any problems.]

¹ The can of tuna in the photo is for information only: it is not an advertisement. I do not have a business relationship with the product's company.

[jump to Comments]

Per i lettori italiani

Mia madre preparava spesso gli spaghetti col tonno per pranzo al venerdì e sempre la sera della vigilia di Natale per cena. L'ispirazione a preparare gli spaghetti col tonno in California mi è venuta un po' di anni fa, quando ho incontrato del tonno in scatola speciale: Albacore di Katy’s Smokehouse.

Il tonno di Katy’s è inscatolato con l'aggiunta solo di un po' di sale marino. Mentre cuoce nel contenitore, il tonno rilascia del "succo" e dell'olio, che diventano il liquido in cui si conserva. Quindi questo tonno non è sott'olio nel senso che olio non viene aggiunto per la conservazione. Non so se in Italia si trovi questo tipo di prodotto. Se consultate la scheda di Seafood Watch dedicata al tonno in scatola potete vedere che l'albacore del Pacifico pescato con lenza da traina o canna da pesca è considerato un'ottima scelta da parte del consumatore attento. Facendo un po' di ricerca, ho trovato questo rapporto recente di Greenpeace intitolato Tonno in trappola che presenta una classifica di marche in base a criteri che hanno a che fare con il tipo di pesca e l'impatto sugli stock di tonno. La scheda di Seafood Watch spiega anche che i tonni pescati con amo e lenza sono giovani e perciò la loro carne contiene un quantitativo minimo di mercurio.

Come spiegato in precedenza, ancora non emulo mia madre nella preparazione del pomodoro in bottiglia, perciò apro una scatola di salsa di pomodoro bio e scelgo una marca che ha il minimo di ingredienti aggiunti e che usa pomodori coltivati in California. Qui la passata di pomodoro in bottiglia che trovo è solo d'importazione, quindi la evito, dal momento che il nostro stato è il maggior produttore di pomodori degli USA. In Italia, la situazione è diversa (anche se ho letto che molti dei pomodori venduti in Italia sono coltivati in Cina).

Gli spaghetti col tonno sono facili e veloci da preparare. Quasi tutti gli ingredienti si possono tenere nella dispensa, quindi con un po' di accortezza nel mantenimento delle scorte potete essere sempre in grado di prepararli, per la gioia dei commensali.

Ingredienti:

• mezzo cucchiaio (7.5 ml) di olio d'oliva
• 2 spicchi d'aglio (3 se sono piccoli)
• mezzo cucchiaio (7.5 ml) di pasta d'acciughe (facoltativa, ma ci sta bene)
• 425 g di passata di pomodoro bio
• 210 g di tonno in scatola pecato in modo sostenibile e conservato nel suo olio
• mezzo chilo di spaghetti (una libbra di fatto corrisponde a 450 g)
• sale grosso
• 60 ml prezzemolo fresco tritato

Mentre portate a bollore l'acqua per la pasta, scaldare l'olio a fuoco dolce. Aggiungere l'aglio e insaporire l'olio per un paio di minuti. Aggiungere la pasta d'acciughe (se utilizzata) e mescolare all'olio. Versare la passata, portare a bollore, coprire e cuocere a fuoco dolce per 5 minuti.

Nel frattempo, aprire la scatoletta di tonno e versarlo in una ciotola. Spezzettare il tonno con una forchetta e mescolare per fare riassorbire il suo olio, poi aggiungere alla passata. Importante: questo procedimento presuppone l'utilizzo di tonno conservato nel suo olio. Se utilizzate un tonno con olio aggiunto, scolatelo, poi spezzettatelo e infine aggiungetelo alla passata. Mescolare, coprire e cuocere a fuoco dolce per 10 minuti. Quando il sugo di tonno è pronto, aggiungere il prezzemolo, girare, spegnere il fuoco e coprire di nuovo.

Quando l'acqua bolle, salare e versare gli spaghetti. Quando sono al dente, scolare e versare in un'insalatiera per la pasta. Versare il sugo di tonno sugli spaghetti, togliere gli spicchi d'aglio e servire immediatamente. Una volta che avete spazzolato la vostra porzione di spaghetti col tonno potete fare la scarpetta.

Nota linguistica: la parola spaghetti in inglese è singolare, cosa che può causare confusione nel parlante italiano.

Con questo post contribuisco all'evento Tin Can Recipes dedicato alla celebrazione dei 200 anni del cibo in scatola. L'organizzazione dell'evento è di Ale, Fra, Sere e Paola del blog Il Giardino degli Aromi e di Brii che scrive Briggis recept och ideer e Briiblog in English. Le regole per partecipare le trovate su questa pagina. Questo post contiene il riepilogo dell'evento.

Contribuisco anche all'edizione numero 213 di Presto Pasta Nights, evento creato da Ruth di Once Upon a Feast e ospitato questa settimana da Jacqueline di Tinned Tomatoes. Questo post contiene il riepilogo dell'evento.

¹ La scatola di tonno nella foto è solo a titolo informativo: non è una pubblicità. Non ho alcun rapporto commerciale con l'azienda produttrice.

Novel Food #11: bouillabaisse marseillaise (zuppa di pesce alla marsigliese)

In the announcement of the current edition of Novel Food, I wrote: "I am reading Chourmo, a novel by Jean-Claude Izzo (I am actually reading the Italian translation from the original French), the second volume of his Marseilles Trilogy. I won't say more about the book now, because I may choose to feature it..." I have made my choice and here I will tell you a bit more about the novel and its author.

In previous editions of Novel Food, I have written about Salvo Montalbano (more than once) and Pepe Carvalho. Now is the turn of Fabio Montale: how does he fit with the other two?

• As I have written in this post, the creators of the three characters, Andrea Camilleri, Manuel Vázquez Montalbán and Jean-Claude Izzo, respectively, were friends (Vázquez Montalbán and Izzo have died)
• Like Salvo Montalbano and Pepe Carvalho, Fabio Montale loves good food
• Again like Salvo Montalbano and Pepe Carvalho, Fabio Montale lives close to the Mediterranean Sea.

As somewhat of an aside, I like the name Fabio Montale a lot. Fabius was a Roman family name, the nomen of the gens Fabia; Montale is the last name of one of my favorite Italian poets, Nobel laureate Eugenio Montale. Jean-Claude Izzo shares with his character the fact of being the son of immigrant parents. This informs their sensitivity to the conditions of immigrants and their children.

Fabio Montale is the protagonist of three novels by Izzo: Total Chaos, Chourmo and Solea (together called the Marseilles Trilogy). Chourmo is the second one. In the first one (Total Chaos) Montale is a policeman. In Chourmo, he has retired from that job, but ends up investigating a murder, because the victim is the son of a cousin.

Izzo's novels have a strong sense of place. They are rooted in the ancient port city of Marseilles. In the words of one reviewer:

Izzo conveys a very Gallic sense of disenchantment and fatalism. It's a complicated portrait of a city, loving and nostalgic, yet sad and angry.

The New Yorker says:

But what makes his work haunting is his extraordinary ability to convey the tastes and smells of Marseilles, and the way memory and obligation dog every step his hero takes.

What does the title of the novel mean?

He smiled. "And there's the chourmo. Know what that is?"

I knew. Chourmo, a Provençal word derived from chiourme, the rowers in a galley. In Marseilles, we knew all about galleys. No need to kill your mother and father to find yourself in the galleys, just like two centuries ago. No, these days, you just had to be young, whether you were an immigrant or not.

Then, there is the chourmo-spirit:

You weren't just from one neighborhood, one project. You were chourmo. In the same galleys, rowing ! Trying to get out. Together.

A review of the novel and various links are available on this page. Two more pieces of information:

1. The Italian word for chourmo is ciurma
2. French actor Alain Delon played Fabio Montale in the movies based on Izzo's trilogy (here is a sequence from Total Khéops, in French).

Montale owns a small boat and likes to go out in the morning to fish. Food and wine are mentioned throughout the novel. Early in the story, old Fonfon reminds Montale that, as a kid, he only ate soup with croutons (zuppa con i crostini), without any of the fish that Fonfon himself, Montale's father and other friends had caught. This reference put me in the mood for fish soup (zuppa di pesce). Shortly before the climax of the story, Montale thinks about soup — at least he does so in the Italian translation (of which my English version follows):

It was the time when Marseilles stirs. When people ask themselves what kind of soup they will eat tonight. West Indian. Brazilian. African. Arab. Greek. Armenian. Vietnamese. Indian. Provençal. Or from Réunion. There is a bit of everything in the Marseilles melting pot. Something for every taste.

In the English translation, the subject of the sentence is "food" instead of "soup:" I could not find the relevant excerpt of the original French, so I don't what the passage says there (also, the English version has Italian instead of Indian in the passage quoted).

Once I was in the mood for soup, it was a question of deciding which one. Bouillabaisse was a possible choice. However, I wanted an easy version of the traditional zuppa di pesce alla marsigliese. In browsing the web, I found one that I liked in the book The Soup Peddler's Slow and Difficult Soups: Recipes and Reveries by David Ansel. The book was already in my wish list after I made several times (and always enjoyed) the Armenian Apricot Soup — which incidentally would have been also a good choice for the event, since Armenian is in Montale's list. In any case, bent on bouillabaisse, I got the book and besides making Bouillabaisse Marseillaise, I also made Bouktouf, another good fit, since it is described as coming from Algeria.

There are many recipes for Bouillabaisse on the web (for example Julia Child's recipe). I was happy with Ansel's staightforward one, and simplified it further by skipping the rouille and the croutons. It wasn't until I had made it a second time that I realized I had repeated myself, since Pepe Carvalho also inspired me to make fish soup, his caldeirada. What can I say? I like fish soup and I am always willing to try different versions.

You can read the details of the recipe here. I pretty much followed the recipe as written, halving the quantities, as I was making soup for two people, not 8 to 10. Here are the changes I made to the recipe:

• In the freezer, I had some fish stock (brodo di pesce) I had previously made. It was not enough, so I added some water, but the total amount of liquid was a bit less than indicated (based on my personal preference for thick soups)
• I did not have chili powder, so I added a small peperoncino broken into three pieces to the soup. I had forgotten that there was some peperoncino in the fish broth as well, so the resulting soup was a bit on the hot side. The second time I made it, I toned it down.
• I used a can of fire roasted diced tomatoes and a cup of fresh crushed tomatoes (see this video for the technique)
• I did not peel the potatoes (All Red potatoes from the new crop) and cut them into 1/8"-thick rounds
• I chose fish based on what was available at the store, namely rock cod, ling cod (locally caught) and sturgeon; I used only half a pound of mussels, since I am not a big mussel fan; the second time that I made the soup I omitted the mussels in favor of (medium) shrimp.

In David Ansel's words:

The combination of fish stock, saffron and white wine will destroy you. It will leave you weak and helpless and quivering with unrequited desire.

I am not sure I recognize my reaction in this description. I certainly got a second helping and so did my husband.

What about Fabio Montale? After the short passage quoted above, the events move fast towards the final resolution, but not before another reference to food is made. Fabio realizes he is hungry:

I should have eaten before unleashing this mess. [...]

A nice plate of spaghetti all'amatriciana with a glass of red wine. A Tempier rouge, for example, from Bandol. Maybe I'll find it in the hereafter. 

I have the third volume of the trilogy (Solea) on my bookshelf and I am looking forward to reading Montale's adventures in that book.

Update. As you can read in the Comments, Maria Rosa mentions a trip to Marseilles and a visit to Fabio Montale'svplaces. She kindly sent me three photos related to the subject of my post and I am publishing them with her permission. Thank you, Maria Rosa!

Chez Loury is one of the restaurants mentioned by Izzo

Loury's bouillabaisse

Monsieur Loury

This, as mentioned above, is my contribution to the eleventh edition of Novel Food, the literary/culinary event that Lisa of Champaign Taste and I have been co-hosting for some time, since a conversation on the food in Montalbano's novels gave us the idea of marrying literature and food in a blog event.

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

Click on the button to hear me pronounce the Italian (and French) words mentioned in the post (note that I pronounce Fabio Montale in Italian):

bouillabaisse

or launch the bouillabaisse audio file [mp3].

[Depending on your set-up, the audio file will be played within the browser or by your mp3 player application. Please, contact me if you encounter any problems.]

salmone in crosta

The December 2009 Daring Cooks challenge was hosted by Simone of Junglefrog Cooking. Simone chose Salmon en Croute (or alternative recipes for Beef Wellington or Vegetable en Croute) from Good Food online.

You can find the recipes for all the elements of the challenge here¹.

I had planned to prepare the dish on Sunday December 6, the plan entailing making homemade cream cheese, but a set of unforeseen circumstances subverted my plans. And then forgetfulness set in and the day I prepared another batch of homemade cream cheese (the previous one having been rapidly completely consumed), I realized that it was the day I was supposed to publish my post about the whole recipe. However, I wasn't going to let embarrassment have the last word, so here I am, late to be sure, but still happy to have fulfilled the challenge.

Although the recipe allowed us a choice of shortcrust or puff pastry, I decided to use the former, because I had never made shortcrust pastry for a savory dish. In Italy, it is called pasta brisée (from the French pâte brisée). The use of a food processor makes preparing this pastry really easy. My homemade cream cheese turned a lovely pastel green when I processed it with some ruchetta (or rucola, arugula) and some spinach (spinaci). I made the dish twice three times, the first time with halibut and the other times with Pacific salmon (not farmed), and both renditions were well received at the table.

I halved the recipe for the pasta brisée, because I meant to bake a small piece of fish, then further divided it in half, because for my first try I could not get some skinned salmon fillet. I must admit that I was a bit of a Scrooge when it came to apportioning the pasta brisée to each piece of fish and therefore the wrap opened up a bit during baking, but that did not have a negative effect on the flavor of the dish, which was excellent.

Update (December 18, 2009) — I debated whether to write a new post to show today's much better rendition of the recipe, then opted for an update to the already existing one, given that I published it only yesterday. I made another half-batch of pasta brisée, this time using 1/4 of whole-wheat pastry flour and 3/4 regular flour. Perfection is a long way away, but there are signs of improvement.

I can see myself preparing salmone in crosta again in the future, maybe for a dinner with guests. Let me know if you would like to be invited.

You will find a lot of photographs to admire, when you browse the creations of my fellow Daring Cooks. A special thanks to Simone for a very nice challenge.

¹ To make the shortcrust pastry, I used twice as much water as indicated in the recipe.

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

Novel Food #9: la caldeirada di Pepe Carvalho

Pepe Carvalho's caldeirada

I am not sure why it has taken me so long to read a novel by Manuel Vázquez Montalbán featuring Pepe Carvalho, but recently, I finally did it. I have known for a while the connection between Montalbano and Montalbán, though it was only when I started writing this post that I learned the details. In this interview (in Italian), Camilleri explains (my translation of the transcript):

I came up with the protagonist's name, because while I was writing the novel, I was reading a novel by Vázquez Montalbán, The Pianist. The structure of that novel gave me the intuition of how to restructure The Brewer from Preston. I started to work like crazy: on one side I was writing the Montalbano novel and on the other, I was restructuring The Brewer knowing that it was the right way to go. And so, to show my gratitude, I called my protagonist, who at that point still had no name, Montalbano, which by the way is a Sicilian last name.

(Note: The Pianist does not feature Pepe Carvalho. The first Montalbano novel is The Shape of Water.)  Camilleri and Montalbán knew each other and they knew Jean-Claude Izzo (whom I am reading and enjoying as I write). Here's an excerpt from an article on Camilleri in the LA Times:

Camilleri has plenty of ideas and a dozen manuscripts in the pipeline. The last installment of the Montalbano series is ready for publication upon the author's demise or incapacitation.

Camilleri wrote it as the result of a conversation in Paris years ago with two fellow mystery writers: Manuel Vázquez Montalbán of Spain and Jean-Claude Izzo of France. The three old friends amused themselves discussing how they would do away with their sleuths one day. Vázquez Montalbán and Izzo have since passed away.

While I was in Italy last month, I decided it was high time I met Carvalho and so, during a visit to a bookstore, I purchased Tatuaggio (Italian translation of the original Tatuaje, Tattoo in English), the 1976 novel where the famous detective is introduced. (I read here that Montalbán had used the name in an earlier novel, but it is in Tattoo that Carvalho takes on a rounded personality.) Note: the quotes from the book that follow are my translation into English of the Italian translation I read (I have no real knowledge of Spanish). The one exception is noted.

Carvalho lives in Barcelona, a city I have never visited, though now I feel I have seen it a bit through the detective's wanderings around some of the city's neighborhoods. Carvalho likes to eat good food, drink good wine and he also cooks. One could draw a comparison between Carvalho and Montalbano in terms of their attitude towards food, but I didn't. I actually never thought about Montalbano while I was reading Carvalho's adventure. The story completely engaged my attention and I enjoyed Montalbán's writing style a lot. I am looking forward to reading another one of the Carvalho's books soon.

Back to Tattoo, the title of the novel refers to a peculiar tattoo on the body of a man pulled out of the sea, which says "born to raise hell in hell" (in Italian: sono nato per rivoluzionare l'inferno). The man's face is so badly destroyed that the tattoo provides the only clue for identifying him. Carvalho follows the tattoo thread and the reader follows him in his voyage of discovery, which at some point brings him away from his Barcelona to Amsterdam and Rotterdam. In the process, we learn about Carvalho's heritage, some of his work experience, his current way of living and his philosophy of life.

Early on in the novel, Carvalho cooks (for himself only) some caldeirada, and I decided to follow his example to the letter, i.e., to cook the dish strictly according to the words in my copy of the book, without consulting any other source. It was not a straightforward task, considering that Carvalho completely overlooks details such as quantity of the ingredients, and is very sparse in his description of the cooking procedure.

The only thing I looked up was the name of the dish, and in so doing I discovered that caldeirada is a traditional Portuguese fish stew (zuppa di pesce). Montalbán introduces the dish as la particolare caldeirada di Pepe Carvalho (Pepe Carvalho's special caldeirada), indicating that what follows is Carvalho's personal variation on the theme of caldeirada.

In preparation for the meal, Carvalho shops at the Boqueria Market and buys some fresh monkfish and hake (coda di rospo e merluzzo freschi) and some prawns (gamberoni). He also purchases "a handful of clams ad mussels," but then he does not use them in making caldeirada. Based on what was available at the store, I bought sturgeon, true cod and prawns. I made the recipe twice. The first time I made fish stock (more on this shortly) and used certain quantities of the ingredients. The result was good, but could use some improvements, so I made it again with the changes I thought would improve the end result, and I obtained a very nice dinner entrée.

The recipe as given in the book starts with the preparation of fish stock:

He cleaned the fish and peeled the prawns. He boiled the fish bones and red shells together with an onion, a tomato, some garlic, a ñora, a celery rib and a bit of leek. Fish stock was essential to make Pepe Carvalho's special caldeirada.

While writing this post, I found this quote of the recipe¹ and decided to mention ñora, which, according to online sources, is a sun-dried red pepper (of variety bola) with a characteristic flavor. The Italian text says peperoncino rosso piccante (red hot chili pepper), and that is what I used (I had some from Italy), in small quantity. If I find some ñora, I will be able to evaluate how the result differs.

Back to the recipe, the question here is: how much water did he use? And for how long did he boil the stock? I decided that since I was making fish stock, I would make a bunch and freeze it for later use. Carvalho adds a ladleful of the stock to his caldeirada, but I think that he must have made more than that, as a ladleful of water is not enough to cover the vegetables he lists. In thee end, I used six cups of water and, after bringing to a boil, I simmered the prawn shells and vegetables (a tomato, half a medium onion, 2 cloves of garlic, a very small red chili pepper cut into 3 pieces, a celery rib, a piece of leek, sliced), uncovered, for close to one hour, as I was preparing the ingredients for the dish and then cooking them. My fish was already clean, so I only used the prawns' shells. I actually asked the fishmonger for some fish bones and was told that they get the fish already cleaned.  

To realize the caldeirada, I made more executive decisions. These are the ingredients I used:

• half a medium onion (4 oz.), sliced thin using a mandoline
• a very small red hot chili pepper (peperoncino rosso piccante), cut into 3 pieces
• 1 lb tomatoes, San Marzano-like, diced
• two Devina potatoes (8 oz.), unpeeled, diced small (Yukon can be substituted)
• four prawns, peeled and de-veined
• a bit less than 2/3 lb true cod fillet, cut into large cubes
• a bit more than 1/3 lb sturgeon fillet, cut into large cubes
• a ladleful of fish stock (prepared as described above)
• salt, to taste

While the stock was simmering, Carvalho prepared a sofrito with tomatoes, onion and ñora. When the sofrito had acquired the right consistency, he stewed in it the potatoes. Then added the prawns to the pot, the monkfish and finally the hake. The fish browned slightly, released some water that mixed itself with the sofrito. At that point Carvalho added a ladleful of fish stock. Within ten minutes, the caldeirada was ready.

Carvalho proceeds to eat it straight out of the pot, sitting in front of the fireplace (where he has previously lit a fire using a book taken out of his library, because he could not find a newspaper around his house), drinking chilled Fefiñanes with it.

I followed Carvalho's recipe, improvising a bit as I went along. I used a deep sauté pan, where I let the onion and chili pepper cook in warm olive oil for a couple of minutes, while I diced the tomatoes. I let the vegetables cook for 5 minutes, covered, then added the potatoes. After 10 minutes, I added the prawns, then after a minute the sturgeon and, after another minute, the cod. Soon after, I poured over the stew a ladleful of the hot fish stock. Once the fish was ready (in my case, in less than 10 minutes), I added salt to taste and served immediately.

I think some country-style bread is a required accompaniment for caldeirada (and fish stew in general). The second time I made it, I served it with a couple of my own gougères as topping. Would Carvalho have liked my rendition of his recipe? I don't know, but my husband and I certainly did and I am sure we will have la caldeirada di Pepe Carvalho again on our dinner table.

Parting note: After dinner, Carvalho drinks a cup of coffee, prepared the way he had learned in the United States. I served homemade gelato al caffè for dessert. I am afraid, dear Pepe, that there is no contest for this part of the meal.

This is my contribution to the ninth edition of Novel Food, the literary/culinary event that Lisa of Champaign Taste and I have been co-hosting for some time. A conversation on the food in Montalbano's novels gave us the idea of marrying literature and food in a blog event.

My portion of the roundup is here and Lisa's portion is here.

¹ The post referenced states that the excerpt comes from the book Las Recetas de Carvalho (Carvalho's recipes), which appears to quote verbatim the passage in Tatuaje that is the subject of my post.

Hear me pronounce the words on the la caldeirada di Pepe Carvalho audio file [mp3] or go to the la caldeirada di Pepe Carvalho audio page for more listening options.

cartolina da Palermo: involtini di pesce spada

(Another) postcard from Palermo: Swordfish Rolls

During our recent visit to Palermo, one day we ate lunch at the historical Antica Focacceria San Francesco, which has been in existence since 1834. Customers pay for their meal, get their receipt, then fill their tray and finally sit at one of the old tables with marble top in the inviting dining room. The menu includes traditional Sicilian dishes, like the involtini di pesce spada that were part of our meal.

Swordfish is readily available at the historical fish market we had recently visited, La Vucciria. I noticed that all vendors there display the prized fish in the same way, with the body laid out so that it is easy for them to make slices (really thin ones are needed to make involtini) and the head raised, so that the sword points up, as if ready for a duel.

The filling for the involtini is made of pangrattato (bread crumbs) seasoned with (as far as I could tell) pinoli (pine nuts), uvetta (raisins), ubiquitous fresh prezzemolo (parsley), succo di limone (lemon juice), sale e pepe (salt and black pepper).

The filled involtini are lightly oiled and rolled into bread crumbs, then kept aligned with wooden skewers and placed in a baking pan. Foglie di alloro (bay laurel leaves) are inserted in between the rolls. The end result is a delicious dish of delicate flavor. Since we were quite early for Italian standards, we had to wait a few minutes for the involtini to be ready: our reward was eating them hot from the oven.

At the Focacceria you can taste traditional Sicilian street food, like panelle (fritters made with chickpea flour) and arancine or arancini (fried balls of rice, meat sauce and peas). Across the square from the Focacceria there is a gelateria where you can top off your meal with an espresso, or Sicilian gelato served in a brioche.

This is my entry for Weekend Herb Blogging, a food blogging event started by Kalyn of Kalyn's Kitchen, hosted this week by Susan, The Well-Seasoned Cook. Here is the roundup of WHB #105.

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