Steam-Train Ride in Tuscany

I was researching cooking classes in Tuscany, not steam-train experiences, but somehow I ran across a site describing a day-long treno a vapore excursion leaving from Siena. My husband is a huge railroad enthusiast, so I signed us up.

On the appointed day, it was worth the fare (29 euros each) to see the small satisfied grin on his face  as we climbed the steep steps to our car, just behind the engine room.

At first we were crammed into facing seats with a couple and their two small children, but we soon decamped to an unoccupied four-seater and settled happily into our varnished wooden seats. The whistle blew and the train was soon at full throttle, moving south down a single track that was in use from the 1860s until 1994, when it was closed except for occasional tourist excursions.

We travelled to a gentle shushing sound, like a radiator cranking up, and a more forceful shuga-shuga sound on inclines when the engine had to work harder. At a small town called Amiata, we stopped and watched the switching action as the engine car moved to the other end of the train.

The first shall be last, says the Bible, and that was our fate. Now we were in the last car where, as my husband had predicted, our window captured more black smoke.

Creti Senesi landscape

In some ways our treno a vapore ride was similar to one we once took on the Cumbres & Toltec Railroad, running between Antonito, Colorado, and Chima, New Mexico. Except this was Tuscany we were looking at through the  windows, framed by gold-brown draperies remniscent of a brocade pattern.

We clickety-clacked past blooming wildflowers, olive groves, vineyards, sheep whose milk goes into the region’s famous pecorino cheeses. I caught a glimpse of a man in a pink jacket working in his garden before we moved on to the enormous stainless steel tanks of a Villa Banfi winery, followed by a view of a Cistercian monastery in the distance.

Except for the retired Australian schoolteacher we met, just about all of the several hundred passengers seemed to be Italian families, many of them eager to show their children a piece of history. A three-man band consisting of trombone, trumpet and drummer played at every stop (“Chattanooga Choo Choo” was their theme song) and moved from car to car when the train was in motion. In ours, they passed out cymbals, triangle and maracas.  So it was that I got to play the triangle for the first time since elementary school.

By this time we had been on the train a couple of hours and I was getting hungry. Italians aren’t big on eating between meals and I was struck by the fact that, even on a car with half a dozen small children, no one was snacking or even sipping water.

Eventually we  reached Torrenieri, a town that commands not an inch of space in any guidebook I’ve seen, but was the main stop on our trip. Many of its inhabitants had turned out to give us a good time.  They were frying frittelle (fried dough, sprinkled heavily with salt) and had set up an art room and inflated slides for the children.

Eventually we were led by young guides–all dressed in fetching retro clothing their grandmothers might have worn–to long tables in a community hall. Wine and water bottles had been set out and soon an efficient battalion of servers delivered paper plates filled with prosciutto, salami and crostini (the latter with tuna, tomato and chicken liver spreads) Next came hearty servings of pici (Tuscany’s long round noodles) with a meat ragu, and then the secondo: thin slices of arista (pork roast) with roasted potatoes and salad. For dessert, there were bowls of stracciatella gelato, a mixture of white fior di latte and chocolate.

After our abundant pranzo, we strolled up the street to Cantina Abbadia Ardenga, a maker of Brunello di Montalcino. The elderly proprietor, dapper in a bespoke suit,, showed us the botte (large barrels) filled with Brunello-to-be. Their production is only 15,000 bottles, he said, made with grapes from nearby vineyards and water from a natural spring.

We were not the most respectful crowd. “When are you going to give us some wine?” one man said loudly. But before long the talk ended and the tasting began–Brunello 2008, Rosso di Montalcino and vin santo. Moods brightened.

And then it was time to board for the last stretch of our treno a vapore route, back to Siena.

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Tags: Brunello di Montalcino, Crete Senesi, Italian train excursions, Siena, steam trains in Italy

Under the Tuscan Rain Clouds

Since we arrived in Tuscany, it’s rained almost every day. From what I hear, it’s been an unusually cold and rainy spring.  And that’s saying something, because Tuscany is actually not the reliably sunny place we’ve been led to believe. Tuscans themselves don’t brag about savoring life under their sun; they know better.

Comparing May precipitation stats with Seattle, I see that Florence averages three inches compared to two for a city famous for overcast skies. The maddening thing is how changeable the weather is. The sun peeks out, like a temptress, and then 15 minutes later the skies open again.

I’m not complaining–well, maybe a little–but mostly just going with the flow (sorry, hard to avoid water imagery). Even under damp conditions, Tuscany is one of the best places on earth. So I add layers of clothing until the chill can’t get through, finishing if need be with the bubblegum-pink shell I had brought, optimistically, for bicycling. Not ready for that quite yet.

vitalba

Compared to a visit a few years ago at the same time, seasonal vegetables lag far behind. Tender young artichokes, zucchini and greens are showing up in markets, but the seedlings have just been planted in the garden of the farmhouse where we’re staying. We’re months away from local tomatoes, but enjoying the juicy ones from Sicily.

After running a hand over a plush rosemary bush, I sniffed and wondered why the familiar aroma burst went missing. Our friend Allen, a gardening expert and food historian, explained that the rain has diluted those aromatic oils. The best he could suggest was to pluck the older, slightly more fragrant sprigs for cooking.

Allen also pointed out vitalba, a weed that according to Italian sources is poised between poisonous and medicinal. To make it edible, boil to deactivate the enzymes and then cook a second time. Often it’s battered and fried, probably to divert attention from the bitter taste.

The white acacia flowers now in bloom belong to the same category of “emergency foods,” one step down from cucina povera because they don’t necessarily taste that good.  I bought honey made from bees fed on acacia flowers, but apparently you can also fry them or toss in salads. We can drive to the supermercato even in the rain, so I doubt we’ll get hungry enough to go acacia hunting in the woods.

I’ve started fantasizing about a visit to a terme, one of the thermal springs that dot Tuscany, and this raw weather is also extending the season for hearty, rib-sticking foods.  The quality of beans is amazing here. At the weekly street market, we bought a big, sturdy variety of ceci (chickpeas) to make minestrone; the vendor said the smaller chickpeas from the Maremma (on the right) are best cooked alone and drizzled with oil to accompany roasted meat or poultry (the third variety in the photo are borlotti, cranberry beans).

Italian law forbids central heating after April 15 and, although we energy-guzzling Americans should take a lesson from their example, I hadn’t felt warmed clear through until two nights ago, when we built a fire in the wood-burning stove. The stovetop radiated so much heat that the meat sugo I set on top was soon bubbling. I mixed it with pici, the thick round noodles typical of Tuscany.

This part of Tuscany, in the Arno Valley, is known for the quality of its chickens.I’ve already made aquacotta, a vegetable and bread soup topped with poached eggs, and tonight my husband made one of  his fabulous frittatas, mixing the orange-yolked eggs with sauteed onions and potatoes, pancetta and lots of parsley.

I’d give you his recipe, but honestly, I wasn’t watching. Instead I was listening to Corelli, sipping wine and watching the sunset. The weather had cleared. In the late evening light, the flowering plants were brilliant in their hues of yellow, fuchsia, purple. After all, it’s springtime in Tuscany.

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NYC: Rethinking the Italian Neighborhood Grocery

Looking for Louis Coluccio’s new store in Bay Ridge,  we spotted “Italian Grocery” in old-fashioned stenciling on the brick storefront.  ”Are you sure that’s it?” asked my son-in-law.

But even from a moving car, I had also seen A.L.C.’s stylish round logo. The Coluccio family is into its third generation as Brooklyn grocers and importers of Italian products. The original 60th St. store, founded half a century ago, feels like a bit of a time warp, but Louis is a young guy in his thirties and with A.L.C., he’s clearly aiming to integrate the old with the new.

spicy soppressata

As we walked into a deep, brick-lined interior that once housed a butcher shop, Louis emerged from behind the counter.  ”Do you want to taste a really spicy soppressata?” he asked. We did, and found it delicious.

An employee offered translucent slices of Prosciutto Toscano, new to the American market. Cured with garlic, juniper and pepper, it’s a little darker and saltier than its Parma and San Daniele cousins, with a more earthy, intense flavor. We also sampled Garda, an aged raw-milk cheese from the Italian Alps, a fantastic Lombardy blue cheese (goat) called blu di capra, and house-made scamorza.

Prosciutto Toscano at A.L.C.

With a nod to Brooklyn boosterism, A.L.C. sells dough from Di Fara Pizza and pickles made within the bourough limits. Customers can order sandwiches or prepared foods to eat on site or take home.

Why this somewhat gritty-looking neighborhood? As Louis points out, Bay Ridge has a strong Italian heritage but is also emerging as a hip part of Brooklyn. He thought a neighborhood store like his could appeal to both kinds of customers.

The visit made me think about what makes A.L.C. different from Eataly, a mash-up of Italian products, restaurants, beer garden, cooking classes, books and kitchen goods. When I go, I confirm that they’re still stocking my cookbooks. Then I wander around  until my head is spinning. Finally, I sit down at the seafood bar and order the daily whole-fish special.

Eataly is fun, but as a customer, you feel anonymous.  Even if you live or work in the Flatiron District, they don’t really care about building a relationship with you. It’s not a neighborhood store, but a destination for Italophiles far and wide.

A.L.C. is more welcoming, a friendly neighborhood grocery that happens to be well stocked with Italian foods–some that arouse nostalgia and others you’ve never tasted before. If I lived anywhere close, I’d be in and out all the time.

Salumeria Rosi Parmacotto, with stores in Manhattan, Paris and Parma, suggests yet another future for the Italian grocery: an elegant balance between retail and restaurant. Thanks to the partnership between Parmacotto, an Italian salumi producer and importer, and Cesare Casella, a seasoned chef originally from Tuscany, you can trust the authenticity of what’s behind the deli counter and what’s on the plate.

Meeting a friend for lunch at the Upper West Side location, I expected simple fare–freshly sliced salumi, marinated olives and so on. Those are available, but we gravitated to more elaborate dishes glimpsed on nearby tables.

Perfectly executed caponata with bread was followed by a warm salad of julienned vegetables with baby squid, farro prepared risotto style with spring vegetables, and my favorite, mezzi rigatoni all’ amatriciana–the deeply satisfying sauce made not just with the obligatory guanciale (cured pork cheeks) but eight other kinds of salumi. Even the sauteed escarole made me homesick for the cooking of the Italian nonna I never had.

The Italian grocery closest to my daughter’s Park Slope home is Russo’s Mozzarella & Pasta, an outpost of the East Village store. I didn’t see any reinvention happening here–just Italian basics wrapped up by Latino counter staff–but they do make a mean broccoli rabe, fennel and mozzarella sandwich.

The Ploughman, an artisanal cheese and charcuterie shop in Park Slope, is a good place to load up for a picnic or aperitivo time.  To go with our Taleggio and mixed olives, we took home a couple of draft brews in returnable Mason jars. Local is part of the formula here. For instance,  this weekend they’ll be pouring a full-bodied Cricket Hill beer from New Jersey in honor of the 17-year cicadas expected to hatch out.

Boarding my flight at LaGuardia, I wondered what’s new at Di Palo, a Little Italy establishment renowned for its 200-plus cheeses from Italy.  A few years ago Enoteca Di Palo opened next door as Lou DiPalo and his son Sam set out to build a comparable reputation for regional Italian wines.

I also wished I had found time to check out Brooklyn Larder, known for sustainably produced cheeses, salumi and other foods.

But I’ll save those stops for another visit, reassured as I am that New York’s neighborhood Italian groceries are thriving in varied and interesting ways. Meanwhile, I might try to replicate that amatriciana.

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Tags: A.L.C. Italian Grocery, Di Palo, Eataly, Italian delis, Italian neighborhood groceries, Louis Coluccio, Salumeria Rosi, salumi, The Ploughman

Spring Greens and Rice Soup

In the Piemonte region of northern Italy where Margherita Aloi grew up, this potful of spring greens in broth, thickened by fat rice kernels and potatoes, is known as a “cleansing soup”…especially for women.

I’ve never been altogether sure what “cleansing” means, but it likely has something to do with the greens, rich in digestion-enhancing fiber, and with the idea of giving the female reproductive system a tune-up during the season of rebirth.

Anyway, it is a wonderfully nourishing spring dish, and  I love the idea of a soup made by women, for women.

According to Margherita, who eventually became a Connecticut chef, this traditional soup made sense not only because greens and young onions are spring crops, but because this was the time women were working in the rice fields. A woman could make a big batch ahead of time and then at night, when she was stanca morta–dead tired–simply heat it up.

Before automation, women were considered perfect for rice-field duty because they had the small hands (and patience?) to plant and cultivate the seedlings. For a glimpse of gritty realities guaranteed to blast away nostalgia for that hard-scrabble era, I recommend Bitter Rice (Riso Amaro), a neo-realist film of the ’40s.

As a simple meal made with inexpensive ingredients, Margherita’s spring greens and rice soup is squarely in the cucina povera tradition, and I included the recipe in Piatto Unico, my cookbook on Italian one-course meals. Its comforting flavors remind me a bit of my mother’s potato soup. Hers was a more rudimentary soup–just potatoes, onions and water, seasoned with a dollop or two of butter plus salt and pepper.

My mom told me that, living on an Army base during World War II, she and my dad ate potato soup toward the end of the month while waiting for the next paycheck and round of ration cards. But she remembered early marriage as a happy time and that association may explain in part why she went on making potato soup throughout her life.

The other reason, I think, is that she craved the honest flavors of that soup. And I feel the same way about this greens and rice soup. I like to combine mild greens such as chard, spinach or beet greens with bitter varieties like dandelion greens or kale. This week I chose beet greens and dandelion greens at my Florida farmer’s market, along with organic nasturtiums to float in the bowls.

Spring Greens and Rice Soup

(from Piatto Unico: When One Course Makes a Real Italian Meal; based on recipe from Margherita Aloi)

12 ounces to 1 pound spring greens such as baby spinach, chard, dandelion greens, watercress, and edible flowers (choose at least two varieties), washed well, tough stems removed
2 cups cleaned, thinly sliced leeks or spring onions (white and tender green parts)
2 cloves garlic, chopped
1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil, or a combination of butter and olive oil
2 cups peeled, medium-diced russet potatoes
3 quarts chicken broth or water, or a mixture
1 cup Arborio or Carnaroli rice
1/2 bunch asparagus, trimmed, cut in short lengths (optional)
1 small hot red pepper, seeded and slivered, or hot red pepper flakes to taste
Sea salt or kosher salt
Best-quality extra virgin olive oil, for drizzling
1 to 1 ½ cups freshly grated Parmigiano Reggiano or Grana Padano cheese

1.  Leaving small leaves whole, thinly slice the other greens (makes about 10 cups).

2. Heat a large saucepan over medium-low heat. Combine the leeks and garlic with the olive oil, stirring until coated. Cover the pan and cook, stirring often, until they soften but do not brown, about 10 minutes.

3. Add the potatoes and cover with broth (if using water, add 1 tablespoon salt). Bring to a boil; reduce the heat and simmer, partially covered, until barely tender. Stir in the rice and cook until al dente, about 10 minutes.

4. Add the asparagus, hot red pepper, and shredded greens. Season with salt and simmer just until the greens are tender (add more water as necessary for a soupy consistency). Serve the soup warm, topping each serving with a thread of olive oil and sprinkle of cheese. Pass the rest of the cheese at the table.

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Tags: Bitter Rice, cleansing soups, Italian soups, rice and greens soup, rice recipes

Pizza Rustica for Easter (or Anytime)

Pizza rustica has nothing to do with pizza. Also known as torta pasqualina or Easter pie, it is a southern Italian specialty. Creamy ricotta (or basket cheese) and salty salami in a flaky crust, that’s pizza rustica.

“Pizza rustica is so old-fashioned it’s cool again,” says David DiBari, chef/owner of The Cookery in Dobbs Ferry, New York, where Easter pie stays on the menu year round. “Growing up, I remember friends or family usually brought one to our house during Easter.”

Like other festive foods in the Italian canon, pizza rustica could be made in advance and carried to someone else’s home during a religious holiday. Both filling and crust are rich with eggs, symbolic of rebirth during the Easter season.

Individual tart pans or a springform pan are showier options, but I just use a deep-dish pie plate. Though pizza rustica is traditionally eaten at room temperature, as a snack, The Cookery serves theirs warm, as an appetizer.

No one ever brought my family a pizza rustica–no use whining, I didn’t grow up in an Italian-American household. But I did have the good fortune to see how pizza rustica is made in The Cookery kitchen, and here are the recipes for pie and crust.

Chef Dave DiBari’s Pizza Rustica

Makes one 9-inch pie

1/3 pound hot soppressata in one piece
1/3 pound sweet soppressata in one piece
1/3 Genoa salami in one piece
1-½ pounds whole-milk or part-skim ricotta (preferably a high-quality brand such as Montena Taranto or Calabro)
2 eggs plus 2 yolks
1 cup grated Grana Padano or Parmigiano Reggiano cheese
1/3 cup finely chopped flat-leaf parsley leaves
All-purpose flour, as needed
1 pound Rich Parmigiano Pastry Dough (recipe follows) or other pie dough

Preheat the oven to 350°F.  To soften casings, place the two soppressatas and salami in a bowl. Cover with warm water and let stand for 5 minutes. Remove the meats, one at a time, and score the outsides with a knife. Strip off the casings. Cut the meats lengthwise in ¼- inch slices; cut each slice lengthwise in ¼-inch strips and then crosswise in small dice.

To prepare the filling: Combine the diced meats, ricotta, 1 of the eggs and the yolks, the parsley and the grated cheese in a medium bowl. Mix well until the mixture has the consistency of egg salad.

To roll the dough: Scatter a generous amount of flour on a pastry board or counter and on the rolling pin. Roll the dough in quick strokes from 10 to 2 (on a clock), turning it a quarter turn after each series, until the circle is about 14 inches in diameter. To judge whether the dough is thin enough, lift an edge and hold your hand under it with a light source behind; you should be able to see your fingers. Trim the edges with a pastry cutter.

Loosely roll half of the dough around a rolling pin. Using the pin to support the dough, unfold it over the pan. Gently lift the edges of the dough, allowing it to settle into the pan. Once it is positioned, press down, allowing the edges to drape over the sides of the pan.

Turn the filling into the pan, packing it down with your hands. To form a decorative border: Lift a couple of inches of the edge with both hands and pleat so the dough rests diagonally against the surface of the pie. Lift and pleat the next section, and so on.

Lightly beat the remaining egg. Use your fingers to stroke the egg over all of the exposed crust.

Bake the pie in the lower third of the oven for 45 minutes. The crust should be golden brown. To further test doneness, gently shake the pie from side to side to make sure the ricotta filling is set. Final test: Insert a knife 1 inch from the center (it should come out clean).

Cool the pie on a rack before slicing.

Rich Parmigiano Pastry Dough

Makes 1 deep-dish pie shell (9 inches)

2-1/4 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
1 cup grated Parmigiano Reggiano or Grana Padana cheese
1 teaspoon whole fennel seed
¼ teaspoon sea salt or kosher salt
1 pinch ground hot red pepper (optional)
3 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut in small cubes
1 whole egg plus 1 yolk
1/3 cup heavy cream

Combine the flour, cheese, fennel seed, salt and (if using) hot red pepper in a food processor bowl; pulse until well blended. Add the butter and continue pulsing until the mixture resembles coarse meal.

Through the funnel, add the egg and yolk, pulsing until incorporated. Gradually pour in the cream, continuing to pulse until a ball of dough forms. If the mixture fails to form a ball, add water a tablespoon at a time (up to ½ cup) until it does.

Gather the dough with one hand, sprinkle with flour and knead briefly on a board or the countertop; form a ball, flatten it, and cover or wrap.

Let the dough stand for at least half an hour before proceeding.  It will be quite moist, but not to worry. You’ll be using plenty of flour when rolling it out and I think you’ll find this dough quite easy to work with. It can be held for several days in refrigerator, or frozen indefinitely. Before using, let the dough come to cool room temperature.

Note: You may also be interested in Katia Amore’s recipe for Chocolate Chicken, a Sicilian Easter dish.

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Tags: Chef David DiBari, Italian Easter recipes, pizza rustica, The Cookery, torta pasqualina