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Asparagus, Ham & Ricotta Pie: Beats Quiche

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Even though we can get them anytime, foods like asparagus, ham and eggs still trigger thoughts of spring. That’s also when quiche gets its annual rebirth, at brunches and such. But here’s something better: this Italian asparagus, ham and ricotta pie, a variety of torta salata (“savory pie”).

The ricotta stands in for cream and, in place of quiche’s gruyère, there’s a generous sprinkling of pecorino cheese. This recipe (which appears in my cookbook Piatto Unico) came from our friend Sara, shown here in the garden of Il Poggiolo,  her Tuscan hilltop home.

Sara made her torta salata in less than an hour, using prepared dough made with butter and vegetable oil. In Italy this dough is packaged in a nifty triangular oblong and unfolds to fit in a pie/cake dish, with higher sides than ours. At home I usually make my own pasta frolla, an easy-to-work Italian dough containing egg, but you could substitute a high-quality prepared crust (avoid ones with hydrogenated fat).

Serve the pie warm or at room temperature as part of a brunch buffet, or pair it with dressed spring greens and crusty bread for a one-course meal.

Print
Asparagus, Ham and Ricotta Pie
Prep Time
30 mins
Cook Time
40 mins
Total Time
1 hr 10 mins
 
Course: Main Dish, Pie
Cuisine: Italian
Servings: 6 servings
Ingredients
  • Unbleached all-purpose flour for dusting
  • Pastry dough for a single-crust pie or a prepared crust
  • 1/2 pound asparagus ends trimmed
  • 1 medium red or yellow onion
  • 1 tablespoon unsalted butter
  • 1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil
  • 3 ounces prosciutto cotto available in some U.S. delis or other cooked ham cut in ½-inch cubes
  • 4 large eggs
  • 1 cup whole-milk or part-skim ricotta
  • 1/3 cup grated aged pecorino Parmigiano Reggiano or Grana Padano
  • 2 to 3 tablespoons snipped parsley or basil leaves
  • ½ teaspoon sea salt or kosher salt
  • ¼ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
Instructions
  1. If rolling the crust: Lightly dust a marble pastry board or other smooth surface with flour. Roll the dough into a disk about 11 inches in diameter, dusting the top  as necessary with a little more flour to prevent sticking. Transfer the dough to a 9-inch Pyrex pie plate; press it into the pan; trim all but ½ inch of overhanging edges with kitchen shears or a knife; flute the edges or finish as you like. Chill in the refrigerator while preparing the filling.
  2. Preheat the oven to 350°F. Angle cut the asparagus in 1-inch lengths. Halve the onion, pole to pole, and cut crosswise in thin slices.
  3. Fill a small saucepan two-thirds full of cold water and bring to a boil. Add the asparagus and cook until crisp-tender, about 2 minutes. Drain and cool under running water.
  4. In a medium saucepan, melt the butter with the olive oil over medium heat. Cook the onion until soft and golden, about 10 minutes; cool. Add the asparagus and ham.
  5. In a medium bowl, whisk the eggs until frothy. Add the ricotta and ½ cup water, whisking until well blended. Stir in half of the pecorino cheese, the parsley, salt and pepper.
  6. Spread the asparagus and ham mixture in the pie shell. Add the ricotta-egg mixture and use a spatula to distribute it evenly and smooth the top. Sprinkle the remaining pecorino on top.
  7. Bake the pie on a rack in the lower third of the oven for 20 minutes or until the bottom crust is well browned. Move to a rack in the top third of the oven and continue to cook until the filling is set, 10 to 15 minutes. The top doesn't necessarily brown much; if you want a deeper hue, brush with melted butter or sprinkle on extra cheese in the last minutes of cooking. Cool for at least 10 minutes on a rack before serving.
Recipe Notes

Variations: This pie takes well to other vegetable combinations--sauteed zucchini and mushrooms, for example. Salami or cured pancetta cut in small pieces could be substituted for the ham. It’s fine to omit cured meats altogether, but the filling may need a little more seasoning (salt, pepper, herbs) if you do.

 

 

Veal Stew with Mushrooms and Peas, on Toast

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Veal and mushroom stew, with just a touch of cream, is my idea of the perfect one-dish Sunday supper.

Ladled over toasted country-style bread, this piatto unico is Italian comfort food at its best. Share at the table with people you love–or follow my Sunday routine and take a tray to the sofa for an episode of Downton Abbey or Breaking Bad.

The dish is also good with lamb shoulder or stew meat, or you could substitute beef, but I prefer the delicacy of veal. The recipe belongs to the spezzatino category of rustic, gently simmered stews.

Italians would be more likely to serve the peas on the side, rather than as part of the stew. But I love the ease of one pour from the frozen-pea bag, and the pleasure of eating a few in every bite.

Print
Veal Stew with Mushroom and Peas, on Toast
Prep Time
30 mins
Cook Time
2 hrs
Total Time
2 hrs 30 mins
 
(from Piatto Unico, by Toni Lydecker)
Course: Main Dish
Cuisine: Italian
Servings: 4 servings
Ingredients
  • 2 pounds bone-in veal shoulder steaks or 1 ¾ pounds boneless veal stew meat
  • Extra virgin olive oil
  • 1/2 cup chopped shallot or onion
  • 1 thick-cut pancetta slice 1/4-inch thick, cut in small cubes (about 1/3 cup)
  • 10 ounces crimini or white mushrooms halved, thinly sliced
  • Sea salt or kosher salt
  • Freshly ground black pepper
  • 2 tablespoons flour
  • ½ cup white wine
  • 1/3 cup heavy cream
  • 1 ½ cups frozen baby peas
  • 4 large slices white or whole-grain country-style bread
Instructions
  1. Blot the veal shoulder dry with paper towels. Trim it, discarding the fat but reserving the bones. Cut the lean meat in 1/2-inch cubes.
  2. Over medium heat, heat enough oil (about 2 tablespoons) in a large straight-sided sauté pan. Cook the shallot and pancetta, stirring often, until the fat is rendered and the shallot and pancetta are lightly browned, about 5 minutes. Stir in the mushrooms, cooking until they soften and release some of their liquid, about 8 minutes. Add salt and pepper to taste. Scoop the contents of the pan into a bowl.
  3. Heat a little more olive oil (about 1 tablespoon) over medium-high heat in the same pan. Cook the veal (in batches, if necessary) until lightly browned; season with salt and pepper. Stir and continue cooking until browned all over.
  4. Lower the heat to medium. Sprinkle with the flour; stir for a minute or two. Add the wine, letting it sizzle while scraping the bottom of the pan with a spatula.
  5. Return the reserved veal bones (if any) and mushroom mixture to the pan, and add ½ cup water. When it comes to a simmer, reduce the heat to low and cook, partially covered, until very tender, about 1 ½ hours; add a little water from time to time if needed.
  6. When the veal is tender, remove and discard the bones (if any). Stir in the cream and peas, and cook a few minutes longer until the peas are cooked through and the sauce thickens slightly.
  7. Toast the bread until crisp but not browned; slice in half diagonally. To serve: Arrange two toast halves in the center of each plate. Spoon the stew on top, letting it cascade over the sides of the toast.

 

Panbriacone, Italy’s “Drunken Sweet Bread”

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I’ve given and eaten many a Christmas panettone, and always cross my fingers it won’t be dry.

No chance of that with Panbriacone, a sweet bread with an eggy panettone base, all natural ingredients and a whopping 15-18% alcohol content. The name is a shortened form of pan dolce ubriaco, roughly translated as “drunken sweet bread.” After baking, it is injected with a dessert wine like vin santo or passito or a spirit such as rum, which preserves and keeps it moist for up to a year.

Panbriacone is made exclusively by the Bonci family in the Tuscan town of Montevarchi, and it comes with a sweet story I’m about to tell you. Nice gift, right? Beatrice Ughi of Gustiamo agrees: “I’m a big fan of Bonci’s Panbriacone. Everytime I go to artisanal food trade shows, I stop to eat a piece. It is a fantastic product made by fantastic people.” But she doesn’t stock it for fear that American customers wouldn’t go for it.

In fact, the only online U.S. source for Panbriacone I found is A.G. Ferrari. So I’m

Gianmarco and Gianluca Bonci, shaping the dough

hoping through this post–probably futilely, but it is Christmas, after all–to set off a groundswell of demand for this hard-to-get product.

Silvio Bonci took over his father’s bakery and now his three sons are the third generation to enter the business. “Fifteen years ago, we set out to invent a new kind of artisanal bakery product–a sweet bread we could sell not only during the holidays but throughout the year.” The morning I visited, Silvio showed me the mega mixing bowl where yesterday’s mixture of flour, natural starter and water had generated big yeasty blisters on the surface, a stage known as the pre-impasto. To this he added butter, sugar, eggs and more flour, finishing with sultanas from Turkey and Zante currants from Greece.

Freshly made Panbriacone

The raisins are for a classic Panbriacone, but there are other versions. “When we find beautiful fresh fruit, we like to use it,” says Gianluca, the middle son. Last summer, for instance, they flavored breads with Amarena cherries and blackberries. For Moka Nero, the coffee flavor, they make espresso with a bar-sized machine.

Next a machine weighed and divided the dough into 70-gram blobs, which the two younger sons shaped and placed on baking sheets for transfer to sauna-like rising rooms. It takes 36 hours to make Panbriacone, so I didn’t see the entire process. But I did see the baked loaves cooling–upside down, allowing gravity to create a more rounded, uniform shape. And I watched the final stage, the bagnatura, during which the liqueur spurts into tiny tunnels punched throughout each round loaf.

Toward the end of the morning, Silvo pulled the madre from the refrigerator. He has used this natural starter his entire working life. He cut the sponge in slices, soaked them in water for 20 minutes and, after draining, added flour, water and a little honey, and

Silvio Bonci, kneading the starter for tomorrow’s bread

churned the mixture in an electric mixer. After kneading, he tenderly wrapped the sponge in cloth and secured it with twine before returning to the refrigerator.

Panbriacone may be an invention only 15 years old, but its foundation is that madre, sustained through a daily routine that has endured since the Bonci family acquired it from a Piemontese baker, more than 60 years ago.

I haven’t yet ordered any of the Bonci breads here, but the rum Panbriacone I brought home last June was devoured during the Thanksgiving break. Delicious, and still perfectly moist.

Thanksgiving Side: Braised Sweet-Sour Onions

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I’m not sure when braised sweet-sour onions, based on a Marcella Hazan recipe, showed up on our otherwise relentlessly American Thanksgiving menu. But now it’s unthinkable to leave them out, any more than we would consider skipping the mushroom-onion bread dressing or Brussels sprouts with chestnuts.

When our daughter was in Abu Dhabi on business a few years back,  she emailed for the recipe to contribute to an ex-pat Thanksgiving dinner.  She couldn’t find flat cipolline onions but successfully substituted small red Indian onions from a local market.

Sides with Italian touches can inject flavor excitement (and maybe a little olive oil) into a meal that tends to be too starchy and bland. So, think about making those onions or picking up on one of these ideas.

  • Cover mashed sweet potatoes or winter squash with a topping of grated hard cheese (such as Parmigiano Reggiano, Asiago or pecorino) mixed with chopped pecans or walnuts. Run under the broiler until lightly browned.
  • Moisten fresh breadcrumbs with olive oil and toast until golden. Mix in chopped parsley and sauteed garlic bits while still warm.  Sprinkle over steamed green beans or roasted cauliflower.
  • Go Italian with a sliced celery salad, dressed with a citrus vinaigrette and garnished with toasted walnuts and Parmesan shards. Or, set out an antipasto platter that includes marinated artichokes, wrinkly oil-cured olives and lightly salted radishes or raw fennel.
  • Make your pie crust with pasta frolla, Italy’s butter-and-egg pastry dough. It’s easy to work with and especially good for wet fillings such as pumpkin. This crust is also great for a free-form apple crostata, an easier alternative to traditional apple pie.
Print
Braised Sweet-Sour Onions
Prep Time
30 mins
Cook Time
2 hrs
Total Time
2 hrs 30 mins
 
(Adapted from Marcella Hazan's The Classic Italian Cook Book)
Course: Side Dish
Cuisine: Italian
Servings: 6 servings
Ingredients
  • 3 pounds small white onions preferably the flat variety called cipolline
  • 3 tablespoons unsalted butter
  • 2 1/2 tablespoons red or white wine vinegar
  • 2 teaspoons sugar
  • 1/4 teaspoon salt
  • Freshly ground black pepper
Instructions
  1. In a medium saucepan or skillet broad enough for the onions to fit in a single layer, blanch the onions in boiling water for about 20 seconds; drain and cool slightly. Pull off the papery outer skin; trim dangling roots or tips but leave the root ends intact (otherwise, the onions will come apart when cooked).
  2. Return onions to the saucepan; add water half way up the sides of the onions. Bring to a boil; reduce the heat and simmer the onions for about 20 minutes, stirring at least once, until tender and about half of the water has evaporated.
  3. Add the butter, vinegar, sugar, salt and several grindings of black pepper; continue to simmer very slowly, partially covered, for 1 to 2 hours. Stir often and add a tablespoon or two of water as necessary.
  4. When the onions are a burnished golden brown, consider them done. (Can be made ahead and reheated slowly.)

 

Improvising a Mango-Peach Jam Crostata

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I opened the refrigerator a while back to find an jar of glistening preserves, burnt orange in color. My husband said it was from Emmanuel Roux, known in Tampa Bay and beyond for his flourless chocolate cakes, but couldn’t recall exactly what it was.

“Mango-peach confiture,” said Jennifer, Emmanuel’s curator wife, in reply to my email. And so began the obsessive tasting that culminated in the free-form crostata I’ll soon be telling you about.

Confiture is a word that just doesn’t get used enough, at least in English–so elegant and exotic sounding. It just means preserves or jam, in French. We could also say marmellata, the Italian equivalent, but out of respect for Emmanuel let’s stick with confiture.

“I was raised in a household where for breakfast and afternoon tea there were never less than four or five confitures,” says Emmanuel, whose French family lived in Tunisia for many years. “They were always homemade: berries, apple, orange marmalade, wild plums, green tomatoes.”  His own confitures are simply fruit simmered with sugar and flavorings, no added pectin.

The mangoes had come from a neighbor’s tree and the peaches were among summer’s last from a local market. The confiture’s flavor and color mingled the best of two divine fruits, and I loved the texture, too–firm fruit pieces, not mushy like most jam. Of course, I had to ask how it’s done and here’s the story, in his own words:

  • Dropped the ripe peaches and mangoes in boiling water to remove the skin.
  • Scooped mango flesh out with a soup spoon and cut the peaches in chunks.
  • Added approximately the same quantity of organic sugar to fruit, plus juice from a couple of limes in our yard. Grabbed a not-quite-ripe grapefruit from the dying grapefruit tree in our yard, extracted the seeds and crushed them with the flat side of a knife.
  • Let it all sit together for some time.
  • Cooked the whole thing over high heat to bring to a boil. Then low heat.
  • Skimmed the foam with a flat kitchen spoon. You could also use an ecumoire [otherwise known as a skimmer]. Cooled the foam for Maxx [the family Lab], who loves it.
  • Cooked for an undetermined amount of time while I was working on something else.
  • Caught it just before it started to burn because Jennifer reminded me I had something on the stove.
  • Filled clean jars with a ladle. Tried to find matching lids for the jars. Put a lid on each jar and turned it upside down to sterilize the inside lid.
  • Stored, shared, enjoyed.

After a few days of spooning my mango-peach preserves into plain yogurt and onto whole-wheat toast smeared with peanut butter, I decided they deserved something more. Hence, the crostata. Crostatas are just tarts made with the Italian pastry dough called pasta frolla. Usually I make them with fresh fruit, but I knew that many Italian cooks fill them with their own homemade jam. So here’s my free-form recipe for a free-form crostata made with Emmanuel’s jam (feel free to substitute).

Mango-Peach Jam Crostata

  • With a fork, stirred together 1 1/2 cups flour, 2 tablespoons sugar, grated peel of half a lemon and a pinch of salt.
  • Using my fingertips, worked in 6 tablespoons unsalted butter (cut first in pieces) until mealy. Blended in one beaten egg with a fork to moisten the mixture. Gathered the dough into a ball and gently kneaded.
  • Pulled off one third of the dough for the lattice top. Shaped the remaining two-thirds into a thick disk.
  • Looked for a 9-inch tart pan. Couldn’t find any tart pans (no doubt they will show up when I go searching for cookie cutters at Christmas). Decided instead to make a freeform tart on a baking sheet.
  • Remembered to set the oven at 350°F. Too impatient to chill the dough or let it rest, as recipes always advise. Succeeded–ha!–in rolling a ragged 10-inch disk on my granite counter. Transferred it to the baking sheet and trimmed with a pizza cutter.
  • Spread 1 cup of the jam over the tart crust, leaving a 1-inch border. Thought of sprinkling slivered almonds on top, but didn’t have any. Folded the pastry edges over the jam. Rolled pieces of the remaining dough to make the lattice top.
  • Baked the crostata 20 minutes and took a look. Decided belatedly to brush the lattice top with egg yolk beaten with a little water. Rewarded 15 minutes later with a golden-brown crust (that’s 35 minutes total baking).
  • Tasted, shared, enjoyed.

 

Kale Craze: Let’s Move On…to Other Greens

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The New York Times article about an American kale enthusiast trying to win mystified Parisians over to her favorite greens brought scoffs from online foodie friends. “Kale is so passé,” said one. Not exactly–many a trendy menu still sports a kale salad or risotto. But it does seem like time to move on.

Not to some entirely new craze (although rutabagas have been waiting a long time for their moment), but to other deserving greens. In the spirit of the farmers market shopper in the photo, don’t think too hard about it. Just load them in your basket.

Before talking about what to do with those greens, let’s establish that I’m not a kale hater. I have a kale-strewn potful of minestrone in my fridge right now and, at least once a year, I make ribollita, the robust bread soup that calls for cavolo nero, a variety of kale known to gardeners as lacinato and to many Americans as Tuscan kale. I also make a killer Tuscan pesto by blending the grey-green leaves with browned onions and walnuts.

I’ve never met a kale chip I liked, though–at best, they just taste of salt and at worst, a bit acrid. Kale smoothies? Ewwww. My daughters make a tasty kale salad with raisins, walnuts and pecorino cheese, but I’ve never been moved to make it myself.

Maybe it’s a generational thing but mostly I don’t get the appeal of raw kale. I’d rather cook it. And that goes for other bitter greens: dandelion greens (wild and cultivated), chicory, mustard greens, collard greens.

Unless they are young and tender, bitter greens are often blanched to moderate their pungency. But some of the nutrients go down the drain. In Sicily I learned a different trick: Mix bitter greens with milder varieties such as spinach, chard, escarole or beet greens.

mixed bitter and mild greens

Southern Italians also eat tenerumi, the leaves and shoots of wildly twisted squash called cucuzza or zucchina serpente. Braise in just a little water.

Usually I serve these greens as a side dish, but they could also be used as a bruschetta topping, ravioli or quiche filling, or base for a poached egg.

Print
Mixed Greens with Garlic and Hot Red Pepper
Prep Time
30 mins
Cook Time
30 mins
Total Time
1 hr
 
(from Seafood alla Siciliana, by Toni Lydecker
Course: Side Dish
Cuisine: Italian
Servings: 4 servings
Ingredients
  • 1 bunch or large bag bitter greens such as chicory, dandelion greens, mustard greens or kale prepared for cooking*
  • 1 bunch or large bag milder greens such as chard, spinach, escarole or beet greens spinach, eprepared for cooking*
  • Sea salt or kosher salt
  • 2 cloves garlic finely chopped
  • 2 or 3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
  • Red hot pepper flakes to taste
  • White wine vinegar or lemon wedges
Instructions
  1. Working in batches, cover the greens with water in a large bowl or salad spinner (work in batches as necessary); after several minutes, lift them out. Repeat with fresh water until the discarded water is free of grit. (If using trimmed, washed greens, skip this step!)
  2. In a skillet or broad saucepan large enough to hold the greens, cook the garlic in the olive oil over medium-low heat until fragrant but not browned. Add 1/4 cup water and pile the greens on top. Cover and cook until wilted, stirring to coat greens with the oil; continue to cook until very tender, 15 to 30 minutes altogether.
  3. Season to taste with salt and red pepper flakes. Pass vinegar or a bowl of lemon wedges at the table.
Recipe Notes
  • Prepare dandelion greens and chicory for cooking by trimming the lower stems and cutting the upper parts crosswise in 1- inch lengths. Thick chard or kale stems should be stripped away and used for another purpose (such as vegetable broth); cut leaves crosswise in strips.  Tender greens such as spinach are simply cut crosswise in strips.
  • Variation: In step #2, saute 1/4 cup finely diced pancetta in the olive oil until most of the fat has been rendered; add the garlic and proceed with the remainder of the recipe.

 

dandelion greens

 

Birmingham: Civil Rights Shrine and Culinary Mecca

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Not long ago I visited the Sixteenth Street Baptist Church, where four girls were killed in a Ku Klux Clan bombing 50 years ago. A small exhibit in the fellowship hall tells the story in a matter-of-fact way. Across the street, exhibits at the Birmingham Civil Rights Institute lay out the events of the long struggle for racial equality, including poignant documents like Martin Luther King’s “Letter from a Birmingham Jail.”

Not to miss, either of these sites, but there’s more to Birmingham than its troubled civil rights history. As Janet Keeler says in a Tampa Bay Times story, “It’s a city in 3-D” that entertains and educates 35,000 University of Alabama students, goes crazy over football and roller derby, is busy revitalizing its downtown…and loves to eat well.

Birmingham is, like New Orleans and Charleston, a destination for food lovers. Chef Frank Stitt set the bar high more than 30 years ago when, after a Chez Panisse stint and European travels, he returned to his hometown to open Highlands Bar and Grill. Since then he’s opened Bottega and two other restaurants, written cookbooks, won awards and honed a reputation as an authority on Southern cuisine. I couldn’t wait to taste food from this chef I’d heard so much about.

At Bottega, an Italian restaurant with Southern touches, I chose three appetizers. Beef carpaccio looked like the classic preparation of paper-thin raw beef with Parmigiano Reggiano shavings and arugula, with the chef’s twist–smears of creamy horseradish sauce–cleverly hidden underneath.

Next came caponata, a Sicilian dish that American restaurants often fail to do right. Caponata is not a eggplant paste to smear on crostini but a hearty mixture of braised eggplant and bell pepper chunks with olives and a sweet-sour dressing. This rendition was deeply satisfying, with the slight chewiness of the eggplant skin yielding to the softly caramelized flesh underneath. Slightly oily, but in a good way, because I could taste the quality of the olive oil.

It’s fair to judge an Italian restaurant on its pastas, and the ravioli with fresh tomato coulis delivered the simple, pure flavors of ricotta, lemon zest, basil.

You can tell I was loving my dinner, but I was also happy just being there. From the refined dining room, I could see people mingling at a private party on the second level and glimpse the rich wood bar in another corner, where customers were sipping cocktails and slurping freshly shucked oysters. Through the door is Bottega Cafe, serving pizzas and other rustic fare from a wood-burning oven. Strategically placed mirrors amplify the experience of sitting in one wholly appealing place while observing others.

My feast continued the next night at Highlands, where I started with the famous baked grits surrounded by sauteed chanterelles and country ham on a beurre blanc sauce. The chanterelles, abundant and meaty, stole my heart. As my waiter Mark explained, they were gathered by a forager at an undisclosed location 20 minutes from Birmingham.

Highlands started out mostly French with a few Southern twists and now the ratio is flipped the other way. But I was also struck by how many dishes had an Italian sensibility. The plate with house-cured salumi (including pig’s head salami with porchetta seasoning) and spicy pickled vegetables would be right at home in Emilia Romagna. Except for the mystery item, which turned out to be pickled watermelon, rendered bright yellow by turmeric in the pickling solution.

I finished with a plate of creatively prepared vegetables, including stewed okra, rattlesnake beans (think green beans), more chanterelles (!), farro with bell pepper chunks and fried green tomatoes.

On Tuesday and Wednesday evenings in the August heat of a Southern city, these restaurants were filled. Not with out-of-towners like me, for the most part, but with the city’s elite.  To the right a table of dowagers was seated next to a young, hip-looking couple, while to my left table hoppers congratulated a chic middle-aged woman on some achievement. There were not as many black faces as I hoped to see, fresh from my visits to civil rights sites, but I was told that two African-American gentlemen sitting in the adjacent bistro were the mayor and his chief assistant.

Frank Stitt was also on hand, overseeing his kitchens in the dog days of summer, and that’s what sets him apart from the typical celebrity chef. I realized by the end of the first evening that the striking woman in white circulating through the dining room is his wife, Parvis. She and the front-of-house staff collaborate to create a service experience that’s warm but thoroughly professional, with a big dollop of Southern charm. By the second night, I was treated like a regular.

Exploring more of Birmingham’s culinary scene–such as Hot and Hot Fish Club, whose chef/owner Chris Hastings (a Stitt protege) won the Beard Foundation’s Best Chef of the South last year–will have to wait for another visit. In the meantime I’ll console myself by making some of Chef Stitt’s memorable food at home.

Print
Beef Carpaccio
Prep Time
30 mins
 
(from Bottega Favorita, by Frank Stitt
Course: Appetizer
Cuisine: American, Italian
Servings: 4 servings
Ingredients
  • 1 pound beef eye of round trimmed of all fat
  • 1 cup sour cream
  • 1/3 cup finely grated peeled horseradish or more to taste
  • 1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
  • Dash of Tabasco
  • Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
  • Generous cup arugula
  • 2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
  • Chunk of Parmigiano Reggiano or Grana Padano cheese
Instructions
  1. Freeze the beef for 45 minutes to an hour. Chill 4 large serving plates.
  2. In a medium bowl, whisk together the sour cream, horseradish, 2 teaspoons of the lemon juice, Tabasco, and salt and pepper to taste. If necessary, adjust the amount of horseradish to your liking. Cover and refrigerate for up to 1 day.
  3. Slice the beef into 1/8-inch slices, cutting across the grain. Place each between sheets of plastic wrap and pound with the smooth side of a meat mallet into uniformly thin slices.
  4. Using the back of a spoon, spread a tablespoon of the horseradish sauce over each plate. Arrange the carpaccio over the sauce, overlapping the slices to cover the plate.
  5. In a medium bowl, toss the arugula with the remaining 1 teaspoon lemon juice, the olive oil, and salt and pepper to taste. Mound greens in the center of plates. Shave the cheese over the top.
Recipe Notes

Note: Use leftover horseradish sauce as a dip or sandwich spread.

Frank Stitt’s Beef Carpaccio

(from Bottega Favorita: A Southern Chef’s Love Affair with Italian Food)

Makes 4 servings

1 pound beef eye of round, trimmed of all fat
1 cup sour cream
1/3 cup finely grated peeled horseradish, or more to taste
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
Dash of Tabasco
Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
Generous cup arugula
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
Chunk of Parmigiano Reggiano or Grana Padano cheese

1. Freeze the beef for 45 minutes to an hour. Chill 4 large serving plates.

2. In a medium bowl, whisk together the sour cream, horseradish, 2 teaspoons of the lemon juice, Tabasco, and salt and pepper to taste. If necessary, adjust the amount of horseradish to your liking. Cover and refrigerate for up to 1 day.

3. Slice the beef into 1/8-inch slices, cutting across the grain. Place each between sheets of plastic wrap and pound with the smooth side of a meat mallet into uniformly thin slices.

4. Using the back of a spoon, spread a tablespoon of the horseradish sauce over each plate. Arrange the carpaccio over the sauce, overlapping the slices to cover the plate.

5. In a medium bowl, toss the arugula with the remaining 1 teaspoon lemon juice, the olive oil, and salt and pepper to taste. Mound greens in the center of plates. Shave the cheese over the top.

Note: Use leftover horseradish sauce as a dip or sandwich spread.

Pasta with Fresh Tomato Sauce

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I remember the “Aha!” moment back in the ’80s when I discovered the brilliant Italian idea of featuring summer’s superb tomatoes in an uncooked pasta sauce. For years I made this dish the way I’d learned: marinating the peeled, seeded and diced tomato cubes for several hours with olive oil and  fresh garlic slivers, basil, salt and black pepper.

The stove doesn’t go on until it’s time to boil the spaghetti or linguine. Bathed in this sweetly aromatic sauce, the noodles convey the essence of a sun-ripened tomato. It’s great as a simple supper, starter for a multi-course dinner or, cooled to room temperature, a picnic or potluck dish.

You can’t improve on perfection, right?  And yet. I started to play with this classic crudo sauce, using it as a taking-off point for a more substantial pasta dish that can BE the meal.

I quit bothering with those tiresome peeling and seeding steps.  If the tomatoes are thin-skinned beauties, I’m happy to eat them in their entirety. If they’re not, why would I make this dish? Over the years, I’ve changed up the seasonings and experimented with adding up to three more things–in the dish’s spirit of fresh and convenient, always ingredients that need no cooking.

Good-quality anchovies are my favorite add-in. They ground the sauce, adding a protein note, and get a slightly raucous party going with the raw garlic and the red pepper flakes I like to substitute for black pepper.  If you are anchovy averse, canned tuna is good, too, and a little lemon juice brightens the flavor.

Sometimes I leave out the basil and, after mixing the sauce with the hot pasta, fold in baby arugula straight from the “washed three times” box. It wilts slightly and gives me an excuse for not making a salad.

The crudo tomato sauce can be marinated for up to eight hours–always at room temperature! Refrigerating raw tomatoes damages their flavor.  If you’re strapped for time, make the sauce while the pasta water heats up. Believe me, it’ll taste just fine.

Print
Pasta with Fresh Tomato Sauce, Anchovies and Arugula
Prep Time
20 mins
Cook Time
12 mins
Total Time
32 mins
 
Servings: 2 generous servings
Ingredients
  • 2 medium tomatoes  or 1 pint cherry or grape tomatoes
  • 1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil the best you have
  • 2 cloves garlic cut in thin slivers
  • Sea salt or kosher salt
  • Hot red pepper flakes
  • 8 ounces spaghetti or linguine
  • 2 handsful baby arugula
  • 10 anchovy fillets or 1 can (7 ounces) tuna drained
  • Juice of 1/2 lemon optional
Instructions
  1. Core and dice the tomatoes; quarter or halve cherry or grape tomatoes, if using. Combine tomatoes with olive oil and garlic in a bowl large enough to hold the cooked pasta.  Season to taste with salt and hot red pepper. Marinate up to 8 hours at room temperature.
  2. Fill a large saucepan about two-thirds full with cold water and bring to a boil. Add a small handful of salt and the spaghetti, pressing with a wooden spoon until fully immersed; stir well. Cook until al dente, 8 to 12 minutes.
  3. Drain the pasta and turn into the bowl with the sauce. Mix thoroughly and while the pasta is still hot, stir in the arugula, anchovies and lemon juice (if using). Serve warm or at room temperature.
Recipe Notes

Other good variations and add-ins include diced roasted yellow or red pepper, toasted pine nuts, slivered black or green olives. For the arugula, you could substitute 1/2 cup basil leaves cut in rubbons. Another idea: In southern Italian fashion, mix a pinch or two of sugar into the tomato sauce and top the pasta with toasted fresh bread crumbs. Or, for the anchovies or tuna, substitute smoked Alaska salmon in canned or frozen (thawed) form; Taku is an excellent brand that does a mail-order business. And sometimes I add 1 tablespoon capers and substitute 1/4 cup finely chopped scallions for the garlic and freshly ground black pepper for the hot pepper flakes.

 

Italian Spa Day, with a Big Salad

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Italy is a geologically active country with lots of warm thermal springs, prized for their therapeutic effects on skin, body and state of mind.

S. Giovanni Terme Rapolano

Hotels and spas congregate around these termi, and often there are clinics attached, where Italian clients present a doctor’s prescription for consultations, physical therapy and other interventions.

I have an Italian friend who meets her sister every year for at least a week at one of these establishments. Their relaxing regimen consists of soaking in the pools, massages, mud treatments, conversation and naps. And meals, of course.

I asked what they ate, thinking there might be special spa menus. Looking puzzled, she said, “Whatever we like,” and went on to describe typical Italian meals. Her reply confirmed what I suspected—an Italian spa experience has nothing to do with deprivation.

I’ve never done a full-on spa experience in Italy, or anywhere else, for that matter. But several times I’ve visited San Giovanni Terme Rapolano (south of Siena), with a spectacular view of the hills and town. As a day tripper, I pay 13 euros for access to pools, grounds and a locker.

That’s it for amenities. Everyone brings their own towels, shower soap and terry bathrobe to wear while moving from one pool to another.

After scouting out a lounge chair, I start with the coolest pool. Like some others, I scoop up mud from the pool bottom to smear on my face. Pleasant enough to bask in the sun as it dries, though the mud falls short of producing the smooth and radiant skin promised in online testimonials.

Next comes a slightly warmer pool and finally the warmest one. Don’t even think about swimming, not even a gentle crawl from one spot to another. Instead, everyone sits, leans against the pool sides or glides slowly through the water.

Then back to the lounge chair for reading and crowd watching. Standard attire is a bikini for women and skimpy briefs for men, regardless of age or body type. (Why is it that Italians carry this off better than other nationalities?) I notice, too, that tattoos are rare even among young people.

Time for lunch in the cafeteria-style dining room and terrace. There are panini but I always go for an insalatone—a big salad with lots of yummy ingredients. This time it’s one with grilled eggplant, beets and a generous pile of tuna.

Salads satisfying enough to serve as a piatto unico have become more common over the past few years—perhaps popularized in part by Americans and other foreigners. Italians aren’t keen on putting lots of different ingredients on a plate, but I’m guessing they find a composed salad–which separates components from one other–more acceptable than a big toss.

There’s time for more reading and a doze, and then my relaxing spa day is over. But the salad idea goes home with me, to be recreated (with a few tweaks) as a great mid-summer meal.

Print
Spa Salad with Tuna, Beets, Eggplant and Mozzarella
Prep Time
30 mins
Cook Time
40 mins
Total Time
1 hr 10 mins
 
Course: Main Dish, Salad
Cuisine: Italian
Servings: 4 servings
Ingredients
  • 1 small eggplant or 2 medium zucchini ends trimmed
  • Sea salt
  • 4 medium fresh beets ends trimmed
  • Extra virgin olive oil
  • 2 tablespoons white wine vinegar or to taste
  • 1 tablespoon Dijon mustard
  • Freshly ground black pepper
  • 1 large or 2 small heads Boston lettuce or other tender greens torn in bite-sized pieces
  • 1 carrot peeled and cut in shavings with a vegetable peeler
  • 2 cans (7 ounce) tuna drained*
  • 2 tomatoes cut in thin wedges
  • 8 ounces fresh mozzarella ball cut in cubes, or bocconcini
  • Shredded basil leaves optional
Instructions
  1. Halve the eggplant lengthwise if it’s a fat one. Cut crosswise in ¼-inch slices. Place the eggplant in a colander in the sink and mix with 1 teaspoon salt. Let stand for a half an hour or so, until it softens and gives off some liquid.
  2. Meanwhile, place the beets in a saucepan just large enough to hold them in a single layer. Bring to a boil, adjust the heat to a simmer and cook, covered, until tender when pierced with a knife. Drain and cool until warm.
  3. Combine ½ cup olive oil in a jar with the vinegar, mustard, and salt and pepper to taste. Cover and shake well.
  4. Peel the beets, cut in cubes and place in a small bowl. Moisten with a tablespoon or two of the dressing.
  5. Rinse the eggplant slices and lay on paper towels; blot dry. Heat a heavy-bottomed skillet or grill pan (well-seasoned cast iron is best) until almost smoking. Brown the eggplant on both sides. Cool and turn in a bowl with a tablespoon or two of the dressing.
  6. Combine the greens with the carrot shavings in a large bowl. Toss with dressing (you may not need it all). Using tongs, heap greens on four dinner plates.
  7. Arrange the eggplant, beets, tomato wedges, tuna and mozzarella around and over the greens. Dress mozzarella with a little olive oil plus salt, pepper and the basil leaves (if using).
Recipe Notes

* If the tuna is canned in water, mix it after draining with a little olive oil and fresh lemon juice.

Montevarchi: More than a Prada Outlet

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It’s easy to spot visitors in search of designer fashion bargains at Space, the Prada outlet in Montevarchi, about 45 minutes south of Florence. Invariably dressed in black, they’re the ones sprinting for the parking lot or train after their shopping spree.

Taking in the local sights isn’t on their agenda, but I think they’re missing out. I won’t argue that Montevarchi can compete with tourist magnets like Siena or the Chianti. But long stays at Il Poggiolo, down a nearby country road, have given me a chance to know and appreciate this place. Like so many Italian towns that seem to be nothing special, it has a history and a way of life.

The stone garrison, now home to a modern art museum, was built in 1289 to defend the town. In battles between Florence and Arezzo, Montevarchi and other towns in the Arno Valley fell into Florence’s sphere, and even now residents feel a closer affinity to that city than to Arezzo–even though the latter is closer.

Montevarchi’s medieval wool and silk industries were the foundation of hand-crafted shoe, hat and clothing businesses that continue to this day.

As an important market town,
Montevarchi once boasted its own unit for measuring weight. True to that heritage, the town hosts a Thursday market that’s one of the region’s largest–there you can buy inexpensive clothing, a porchetta sandwich,  fresh vegetables. Even better is the Mercato Coperto (Covered
Market). Open every day, it sells goods from 70 local farmers and producers of olive oil, cheese and wine.

On a side street is Bonci, a family-owned bakery that makes panbriacone, a “drunken sweet bread” with an international following. An all-natural panettone is injected with liqueurs and sweet wine that keep it moist and delicious for up to a year. (I plan to write more about Bonci, so that’s all I’m saying for now!)

My favorite destination is through ancient alleys into the heart of the old city. If you’re a local (or, like me, a temporary local), you might start with a cappuccino or espresso at a bar. I frequent any of them except the one with a dozen old guys sitting on benches.

The Collegiata of San Lorenzo church is open, so I slip into its Baroque interior to see the Relic of the Holy Milk and a few paintings of minor 16th-century artists.

The shop that once sold us fresh pici and spaghetti alla chitarra is gone, and so is the store where I bought the white blouse of a lifetime.

I’m afraid the salumeria has closed, but it’s only moved around the corner to a larger space. There are still several fine bread and pastry shops, two butchers, a merceria selling sewing supplies and a pharmacy where customers line up to confide their health problems. In short, life goes on despite Italy’s economic crisis.

Talking to shop owners and a loquacious barber, we ask how things are going. Nationally, unemployment stands at nearly 12 percent and, for young people, approaches 40 percent. But, from what we hear, Montevarchi is doing better than average. Some businesses have closed—notably, those that make cheaper clothing—but customers of Prada and other high-end clothing makers insist on Montevarchi’s “made in Italy” tags.

Most shops shut down for the pausa, 12:30-ish until 4. Montevarchi is hardly a restaurant mecca, but there are a few good options.  Daniele e Riccardo, run by two brothers, has risen to the top on consumer sites. No tourists when I lunched there, just a few locals and business people passing through. Daniele laid on complimentary panzanella in addition to spaghetti with fresh tomato sauce and zucchini flowers, steamed baccala with mashed potatoes, a glass of red wine and an espresso, all for 20 euros.

Plenty of time for a visit to Mariani, the best gelateria in town.  For less than two euros, I linger over a cup with one scoop of creamy orange and another of pistachio gelato, its army fatigue color testifying to naturalness.

Then back to the center, where apartment dwellers open their shutters to the late-afternoon light and shoppers start to make their rounds.