briciole

lasagne

The March 2009 challenge is hosted by Mary of Beans and Caviar, Melinda of Melbourne Larder and Enza of Io Da Grande. They have chosen Lasagne of Emilia-Romagna from The Splendid Table by Lynne Rossetto Kasper as the challenge.

I grew up eating my mother's lasagne and had so far avoided trying to follow in her footsteps, because it is a tall order. She makes her own pasta all'uovo (egg pasta), with consistently excellent results. She makes the béchamel sauce, she prepares il ragu (tomato and meat sauce) using the bottled puréed tomatoes that she makes at home every year. While I had made pasta before, making do with a spianatoia (kneading board) smaller than the one my mother has, I had limited myself to fettuccine and never ventured near lasagne. You can make fettuccine, cook them and then add as simple a sauce as some freshly made ricotta. But with lasagne, the pasta is only one chapter of the story.

Thanks to this month Daring Bakers' challenge, I pushed the envelope, so to speak, but not before conferring with my mother and getting some instructions from her. But let's go in order and review each component of the dish and then the final assembly. You will find the recipes here. I decided to make half the dose of pasta.

My mother has never made pasta all'uovo verde (spinach egg pasta), so for this part I was on my own. I was intrigued by the option with raw spinach, but worried about the resulting texture. I decided to consult Deborah Madison and she was very helpful. In Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone, her spinach variation for egg pasta involves the puréeing of fresh spinach and eggs. This worked out perfectly: I easily combined the resulting paste with the flour to obtain pasta of a beautiful green color.

For the béchamel sauce, I followed the proposed recipe, halved it, and went vegan, using whole-wheat flour, olive oil instead of butter and vegetable broth instead of milk. I have actually been making béchamel sauce this way for years, again following Deborah Madison's recipe.¹

For the sauce, I went vegetarian and made a simple tomato sauce. I cooked in warm oil a quarter cup of minced onion, a small carrot, sliced, and a small rib of celery, chopped. When the vegetables were soft, I added a 14.5 oz. can of diced tomatoes and simmered for 10 minutes or so. I then used an immersion blender to purée the sauce. 

For the cheese, I grated the last piece of my Montasio.

I cooked the lasagne verdi and drained them, as I remember seeing my mother do. I then assembled the dish following the given instructions and my mother's recommendation to go light with the besciamella. I used up all the béchamel and all the tomato sauce before the pasta, so next time I will make more of both. Following my mother's instructions, I did not finish with a layer of béchamel sauce. The top layer of my lasagne was tomato sauce sprinkled with cheese. The baking time and modality was done according to the recipe here.

The result was very favorably received at the table. I was so glad! I feel that I have passed a big test. Of course, I will make lasagne again.

A special thank you goes to our hosts for their efforts and support: it was a nice challenge. I hope you will take the time to go around and look at the gorgeous creations of my talented fellow Daring Bakers. By the way, have you noticed the new logo? Daring Bakers has also a new site.

¹ As Angela correctly notices in her comment, the change of ingredients makes the sauce a vegetarian velouté.

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

pasta al burro e parmigiano

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

spaghetti all'amatriciana

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

spaghetti alla carbonara

The Virtual Group of Italian Chefs (GVCI) has declared January 17th, 2008 the International Day of Italian Cuisines:

"For one day, everyone who makes, promotes or simply loves Italian food outside of Italy is invited to carry out a small activity to celebrate authenticity and quality in Italian cuisine."

Italian chefs all over the world are celebrating the day by making pasta alla carbonara, one of the most famous dishes of the Italian tradition. I am not a chef, but simply an Italian who loves to cook and who has a soft spot for spaghetti alla carbonara. I have never had anything other than spaghetti prepared in this way, but apparently there is a claim that rigatoni is the pasta to use. For my rendition, I will stick to spaghetti.

The origin of this dish and the reason for its name are not clearly established. It appears that its origin is recent: there is no mention of it in cookbooks before WWII. The name could refer to carbonai, Carbonari, the Sardinian town of Carbonia, or  carbone (coal). Carbonai were people who cut and processed wood to make charcoal. On this page there are some photos of how this was done and even short videos. Carbonari, on the other hand, were the members of a secret society (Carboneria) that was active in the first half of the 19th century and had as goal the unification of Italy into a single country freed from foreign occupants. The name of the society comes from the fact that its members used symbols from the carbonai. Fortunately we don't need to establish the origin of the pasta alla carbonara before enjoying it.

There are uncountable recipes for this dish. My mother makes it occasionally and it is a nice dish to share with friends. I like to keep the recipe simple and agree with Roman chef Antonello Colonna when he describes the traditional ingredients, among which he includes tradition itself:

guanciale (e non pancetta), pecorino, uovo, sale e pepe. Null’altro...
Le rielaborazioni non sono vietate. Ma chi pretende di fare la vera carbonara deve usare solo queste materie: la tradizione è un ingrediente come gli altri.

Translation: guanciale (not pancetta), pecorino, egg, salt and pepper. Nothing else...
Variations are not prohibited, but who claims to be making a true carbonara must use only those ingredients: tradition is itself an ingredient.

For the spaghetti in the photo I could not find guanciale and therefore I used pancetta. Guanciale is cured pork jowl (the word also means pillow). Pancetta, instead, comes from the pork belly (pancia). Coincidentally, the NY Times just published an article that talks about guanciale in connection with another famous Italian pasta dish, bucatini all'amatriciana. Chef Colonna is adamant about not using parmigiano for this dish and again I agree with him and use only good pecorino.

My recipe makes no special claim besides the fact that a me piace farla così (I like to make it this way).

Bring a pot of water to rolling boil and pour in it a pound of spaghetti. In the meantime, finely dice 3.5 oz of guanciale. Warm up a lightly oiled skillet big enough to hold the spaghetti and add two small garlic cloves. When the oil is warm, add the guanciale and cook it in its fat, then remove the garlic and keep warm. In the meantime, prepare also the bowl in which you will mix the spaghetti: break 3 very fresh eggs in it and lightly beat them with a pinch of salt, then add 3 oz of pecorino, freshly grated. Keep the bowl warm while you wait for the pasta to cook. Drain the pasta when it is al dente, leaving a little water clinging to it, and pour it into the skillet with the browned guanciale, mix briefly and then empty the skillet into the bowl with the eggs and cheese. Stir quickly: the egg and cheese mixture must remain creamy (I use two forks for this step). Sprinkle generously with freshly-ground black pepper. Serve immediately, possibly in warm bowls and enjoy.

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

capellino

Capellino (singular) is a diminutive of capello, hair, which in Italian is countable. Capellini is the plural.

My mother does not like to cook very thin pasta, so it was only when I stayed with my aunt Lucia that I ate capellini and capelli d'angelo (angel hair). My recollection is that she would make capellini with a light sauce, while she cooked nests of capelli d'angelo in broth. She probably used De Cecco, which distinguishes the two kinds of pasta, capellini and capelli d'angelo. Barilla, on the other hand, appears to use the two names as synonyms and makes capellini, also known as capelli d'angelo, in Italy, while in the US it makes angel hair, also known as capellini.

In any case, capellini are thinner than spaghetti and they cook faster. It is easy to overcook them and, if that happens, they become scotti.

Though they have nothing to do with food, there are a number of fun Italian expressions that use capello , two of which are:

1. avere un diavolo per capello (literally, to have a devil for each hair, meaning to be furious)
2. salvarsi per un capello (to have a narrow escape).

Angelo is angel and the one somewhat food-related thing I will say here is that lunedì dell'Angelo is Easter Monday. It is a holiday and the tradition for that day, at least in central Italy, is to go on a day trip in the country (fare una scampagnata) and have a picnic, weather permitting. The holiday is also called Pasquetta (diminutive of Pasqua, Easter).

[This post was inspired by Lori Lynn of Taste With The Eyes]

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

gnocchi

First described by Boccaccio in his Decamerone, gnocchi are considered the first type of pasta ever made: a mixture of flour and water (the flour from wheat, millet, farro) shaped into round dumplings that were then cooked in boiling water.

The best-known version, made with potatoes, is fairly recent in historical terms, since potatoes did not become common in Italy until the 1800s. Gnocchi made with other main ingredients are common, like the small Sardinian malloreddus, made with semolina flour, knödel, made with stale bread (a day or two old), and gnocchi di ricotta¹.

The strange-sounding word gnocchi traces its origin to the Latin term nucleus, from which nocchio, meaning gnarl, derived. In the dialect of the region around Venice nocchio became gnoco and from there it was an easy transition to gnocco and its plural gnocchi.

Potato gnocchi take time to make, but the result is well worth the effort. My recipe (derived by my mother's) is described here.

¹ In this post I talk about a version of this dish.

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