Sep 302011

Day 1: Under the Sicilian Sun

Probably there is no better guidebook to the real and the mythical Sicily than Giuseppe Tomasi di Lampedusa’s The Leopard, the powerful historical novel about Sicilian life at the time of the Risorgimento [Review of the book from THE GUARDIAN]. I took it with me on a flight to Palermo last week and as we drove on the coastal road toward Trapani and our hotel, past dark-skinned children playing along the roadside and men with the bluest of eyes, yellow hair and ruddy complexions, I remembered his image of Sicily as the “America of antiquity.” Positioned strategically  on the Strait of Messina between North Africa and mainland Italy, the island, the largest in the Mediterranean, was an easy stepping stone for marauders, invaders, and fortune-seekers. This is where Greeks, Phoenicians, Romans, Arabic, Norman, Spanish alternately ruled and plundered for 3,000 years.

Sicily's island landscape

On the road to Trapani

A nation’s food is a living relic of its history. Sicilian food is a banquet of all its historical layers, flavored also by Africans and Europeans. I came to the island’s northwestern Trapani province for an agricultural exhibit of provincial wines, olive oils, pistachios, almonds, herbs, preserves and confections, an exposition sponsored by the local Chamber of Commerce. I wanted to taste the fruit of the year’s harvest and talk first-hand to the artisans–olive oil producers, vintners, pasta makers, Pantelleria caper farmers, to name  few–whose singularly local ancestral crafts form the backbone of the region’s legendary kitchens. And since Trapani has been the tuna-fishing center of Italy since Phoenician times, I couldn’t pass up an opportunity to savor some of the best tuna in the world. Insights from the artisans who make Trapani’s celebrated foods–and some of their recipes–will follow in single-subject entries as this journal unfolds…

At the hotel, Tonnara di Bonagia, on the site of an ancient tuna fishery, the first taste of Trapani awaited us in our room: a plate of milky mozzarella and cigliegini (“little cherries”), astonishingly sweet local cherry tomatoes, and a basket filled with delicious bread baked from heritage wheat, which Sicilian farmers are making a concerted effort to revive.

Trapani heritage breads

Heritage breads of Trapani

And what a delight it was after the styrofoam-variety rolls we are faced with in Italian hotels these days. As for the cheese, this was not the not the true water buffalo mozzarella native to  the Naples area–ideally, that luscious fresh cheese (not actually a cheese since it is not subjected to fermentation) should be eaten within two hours of making, as any mozzarella di bufala maker would tell you. This tangy, charming version was probably a sheep’s milk variation, and hand-formed like little dumplings. Along with these simple but satisfying offerings came a full bottle of fragrant and flavorful Trapanese olive oil, implying that one shouldn’t skimp with it.  I poured it lavishly over all, as was intended. Washed down with the local Erice Nero D’Avola DOC house wine it was as good a meal as I’d ever want.

New York City, September 15, 2011

To see the bright indigo boxes dominating the shelves of Italian superstores, suburban supermarkets, and corner mom-and-pop shops alike around the country, one would think that Barilla pasta–which a dozen years ago was only one of many Italian brands available, has conquered America.

bocelli concert central Park

Bocelli on stage

In New York City last week it was not only pasta that the Barilla empire offered to the people, but a free live concert on the Great Lawn of Central Park. It starred none other than Tuscany’s beloved blind tenor, Andrea Bocelli accompanied by the New York Philharmonic and a chorus of 99 singers. 60,000 fans huddled for the spectacle under umbrellas–or without, soaked from the drenching rain to listen to the voice that can make people cry. He sang duets with Tony Bennett and Celine Dione too, as the Nor’Easter blew in from the coast.  [NY Times article ]

The more fortunate sat near the stage balancing complimentary, beautifully packaged Bento boxes on their laps filled with imported prosciutto di Parma, hunks of parmigiano-reggiano, and what else but pasta? Even cold fusilli could taste good on a night like this. Since most of you missed it, let me recommend whipping up a dish of rigatoni with authentic Tuscan ragù and listening to Andrea Bocelli for a little bit of magic in the warmth of home.

Ragù alla toscana / Tuscan Beef and Chicken Giblet Sauce Makes approximately 5 cups

from Salse di Pomodoro: Making the Great Tomato Sauces of Italy, by Julia della Croce© (Chronicle Books)

The use of chicken innards makes this sauce typically Tuscan. Chicken gizzards, hearts, cockscombs, livers, and intestines (the latter first soaked in water and vinegar and then carefully washed) give a great flavor boost to a tomato-and-meat sauce. Unfortunately, some of these chicken parts are typically eschewed in America and are largely unavailable, except for livers and gizzards. The latter (sometimes known simply as giblets) are added to this sauce, which is then fortified with dry red wine and cooked very gently for a long time. The result is a rich-tasting, complex ragù. In and around Siena, it is typically served over pici, handmade knitting-needle-like pasta; throughout Tuscany, it is used as a sauce for cannelloni and for sturdy macaroni cuts such as rigatoni, fusilli, gemelli (twins), penne, or ziti.

2-1/2 cups canned, peeled plum tomatoes in juice; 2-1/2 pounds fresh, sweet, mature vine-ripened tomatoes; or 2-1/2 cups canned, crushed plum tomatoes
1/2 pound chicken gizzards
4 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
1 medium-sized yellow onion, chopped
1 large carrot, scraped and chopped
1 medium celery stalk, including leaves, chopped
2 tablespoons chopped fresh Italian parsley
1/2 pound ground lean beef, or a mixture of beef and pork
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup good-quality dry red wine
2 tablespoons tomato paste
freshly milled black or white pepper to taste

If using canned tomatoes, drain them, reserving their juice. Strain the captured juice to hold back the seeds. Using your fingers, push out the excess seeds, then chop the tomatoes and set aside the tomatoes and juice. If using fresh tomatoes, slip them into a kettle of rapidly boiling water and blanch for 30 to 45 seconds. Drain the tomatoes and immediately plunge them into cold water. Drain again and, using a paring knife, lift off the skins and cut out the tough core portions. Cut into quarters lengthwise and, using your fingers, push out the excess seeds. Chop the tomatoes and set aside. It using crushed tomatoes, reserve.

To clean the gizzards, wash them and pat dry with a clean kitchen towel. Using a sharp knife, slice away the tough outer, whitish skin from each pair of gizzards, then slice them thinly and set aside. In a saucepan over medium-low heat, warm the olive oil. Add the onion, carrot, celery, and parsley, and sauté gently, stirring occasionally, until the vegetables have softened, about 15 minutes. Raise the heat to medium and add the gizzards; sauté for 5 minutes, and then add the ground meat. Reduce the heat to medium-low and using a wooden spoon, break up the meat and stir it to brown evenly. It should turn light brown; do not allow it to harden. Add the wine and allow the alcohol to evaporate, about 3 minutes.

Stir in the tomato paste and the tomatoes and juice or crushed tomatoes. Allow the sauce to come to a bubbly simmer, then turn the heat down to as low as possible and partially cover the saucepan. Continue to simmer, always over the lowest possible heat, stirring occasionally, until the sauce is thick and pebbly (the Tuscans actually call this ragù, la ghiaiosa, “the pebbly sauce”), about 1-1/2 hours.

Note: Two cups are sufficient for saucing 1 pound of pasta.
Ahead-of-time note: This sauce can be made 4 or 5 days in advance of using and stored tightly covered in the refrigerator, or it can be frozen for up to 3 months.

Photo by Nathan Hoyt

At a recent cooking class at the Silo, the cooking school on Ruth and Skitch Henderson’s old estate in New Milford, CT, I decided to demonstrate one of the quickest and easiest pasta dishes of the Italian kitchen: spaghetti alla carbonara. Call it Italy’s version of bacon and eggs if you will–with pasta added.

No question that it’s sturdy fare for cool weather, but it’s also a fast summer fix for lunch or dinner–I first ate it as a young girl on a sizzling August day in a trattoria along the Amalfi coast.

Outside of Italy, this sensational and most simple of Italian pasta dishes is rarely made correctly: cream, wine, and willy-nilly all kinds of other things are thrown in. The genuine recipe, whose origins are a mystery despite speculation of all kinds, consists of nothing more than extra-virgin olive oil, Italian bacon (pancetta) and eggs, parmigiano-reggiano cheese, spaghetti, salt and pepper—in that order.  You’ll find the original, in all its simple glory in my newest book, Italian Home Cooking: 125 Recipes to Comfort Your Soul, published by Kyle Books, 2010 (grazie to journalist-food historian Rosario Scarpato and ITChef). For a variation using fusilli, see my latest book for Williams-Sonoma, The Pasta Book: The Ultimate Collection (2010).

On Broccoli Rapini: When Bitter is Sweet

Cime di rapa (“turnip tops”), broccoli di rapa, broccoletti di rapa, and colloquially, rape or rapini are the Italian terms for what the Americans call “broccoli raab.”  The vegetable was virtually unknown when I was growing up in the States. Today, the pleasingly bitter greens the southern Italians love have become mainstream but they are rarely cooked correctly. Whether prepared in restaurants or carry-out shops, I find they are often too bitter–the result of not  par-boiling first, or undercooking.  This is not a vegetable to cook al dente! This is the Italian way to prepare rapini: Using a sharp paring [...more...]

At Eataly with Julia: Stalking Italy's Winter Flower

Eataly has a gem of a little cooking school. I taught there  in April, timed for the season’s first crop of the precious winter flower of Treviso. Because Eataly carries the uncommon long-ribbed “tardivo” variety of radicchio, I showed my class how to make a stupendous and simple dish with it: Sauteed Spaghetti with Radicchio. The recipe appears in my most recent cookbook, Italian Home Cooking: 125 Recipes to Comfort the Soul (Kyle Books, NY and London, 2010) To buy this book click here Radicchio belongs to the chicory family (cichorium intybus) and there are four different types: – elongated red Verona [...more...]

CARNEVALE!  Gnocchi Friday in Verona.

Dear Hungry Reader, Carnival time: an auspicious beginning for the Forktales blog! Come with me, forks in hand, through the irresistible world of Italian food. Carnevale, the gaudy week-long party that erupts in February all over Italy has its roots in the Roman festival that honored the pagan god Saturn. No effigies of saints or madonnas here: Carnevale is a farewell to winter and banishment of the dreary; a delirious celebration of spring and all things delicious, coveted, and forbidden.  Every indulgence is permitted and tradition calls for eating mountains of meat and sausages, rivers of wine, and sweets, sweets, [...more...]