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Your Best Balsamic Vinegar–Use It Now!

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For lunch I ate a Fontina-and-tomato toastie, drizzled with traditionally made balsamic vinegar, the kind that costs $75 and up.

Dinner included a sauteed mushroom and peashoot salad, dotted with the same luxurious vinegar.

Dessert was salted caramel ice cream with peaches, strawberries, almonds sauteed in butter and–you guessed it–a little swirl of aceto balsamico.

Why am I using expensive balsamic vinegar as an everyday treat?

Here’s the story. Last fall I eagerly accepted my thoughtful friend Mary Anna’s offer to bring traditionally made balsamic vinegar from an acetaia in Modena, and ordered two bottles, one for me and one for daughter Kate. We compared notes not long ago and realized neither of us had even opened the box.

A whole year had gone by without so much as a taste of that delicious elixir!

Life is too short for that kind of behavior. So we’re fighting the impulse to hoard something special for an ever-receding perfect event or group of people. Instead, the new rule is to use real balsamic vinegar whenever we feel like it.

I started by mixing it into salad vinaigrette for relatives. After one taste, someone complimented the dressing. The only other ingredients were a decent but not outstanding Sicilian olive oil, sea salt and black pepper. So I’m pretty sure the vinegar gets credit for elevating that salad to the wow! category.

Before talking more about making the most of traditional balsamic, let’s review the basics. Balsamic vinegar can be made legally only in the regions of Modena and Reggio Emilia. The best begins with cooking juice from particular varietals (including lambrusco and trebbiano) to form a thick must that is then fermented. The long aging process calls for carefully transferring the vinegar to ever-smaller barrels. Eventually, it is packaged in a unique bulbous bottle with a narrow base.

The confusing thing is that lesser vinegars (priced as low as $4) that can also be labelled balsamic comes from these same Italian regions.

The most common type blends a mediocre wine vinegar with a trace of must, coloring the liquid with caramel. It has been splashed around menus in this country for so long that, if you’re like me, you’re thoroughly sick of its harsh flavor.

To make the situation even more confusing, there’s a middle ground: young, well-made, moderately priced “baby” balsamics made from 100% must but aged less, up to three years or so. Often these are labelled “condimento,” a vague term that nonetheless is attached to some excellent products, with a price range of $20-$40 or so.

I plan to write a post on choosing a good balsamic brand. In the meantime, if you have traditional balsamic or a good-quality condimento in your cupboard (or are willing to buy them), here are some ideas. In general, acidic foods such as fruit benefit from your best balsamic’s sweet complexity and so will rich ones such as meat, cheese or rich pasta dishes.

Vegetables: Drizzle grilled zucchini with good olive oil and your best balsamic. Or sprinkle droplets on and around a platter of asparagus wrapped in prosciutto.

Meat or Fish: Garnish a grilled or pan-seared steak, lamb chops or fresh tuna with a bit of good balsamic.

Ice cream or berries: Better yet, put them together, spooning berries over vanilla or custard ice cream and drizzling with balsamic. Peaches and mangos are other fruits that take well to a good balsamic.

Cheese and Tomatoes: For the ultimate Caprese, drizzle good olive oil over mozzarella slices and dot the tomatoes with good balsamic; finish with a sprinkle of sea salt. Improve a cheese platter by precision-dropping balsamic onto aged Asiago or Parmigiano Reggiano chunks. And don’t forget to try that open-faced cheese and tomato toastie I mentioned in the beginning.

A little good-quality balsamico goes a long way but do add enough for the lovely flavor to come through. For some dishes, such as two scoops of ice cream, a demitasse spoonful would be about right.

What will I do when the last drop of balsamico is gone? Buy more, of course, either from my favorite Italian deli or an online supplier. Or drop some hints for the holidays or my next birthday.

Making Pizzoccheri with Buckwheat Tagliatelle

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I’d been curious forever about the northern Italian dish known as pizzoccheri, but never tasted it. I just knew it combined short buckwheat tagliatelle with potatoes, cabbage, onions and lots of luscious cheese.

Looking on a map, I could see how this hearty dish came to be. Its place of origin, Valtellina (with Teglio as its capitol), is to the far north of Lombardy, not far from Switzerland. Pizzoccheri is border cuisine from a place where the traditions of what are now two countries mingle–a dish for people who work and play hard in a challenging climate.

Buckwheat has long been grown here, turning up in whole-grain breads and steaming bowls of whole-grain polenta taragna. So why not pasta? Italy takes pride of ownership and I was interested but not surprised to find a site by a group called Accademia del Pizzocchero di Teglio that shares the story of this northern dish as well as a recipe from a participating restaurant.

According to the Accademia, pizzoccheri is the sort of dish locals conduct spirited conversations about–how the flour should be milled, how to fry the garlic, the ideal age of the cheese. Everyone has an opinion that remains intact at the end of the discussion.

After consulting several recipes, including one from The Silver Spoon and another from a Slow Food collection of recipes from Italy’s osterias, I concluded that there’s room for variation in ingredients and proportions as long as the essentials are retained. For instance, the most authentic mountain cheese would be Valtellina Casera. But other, easier-to-find Alpine cheeses can be substituted–Italian Fontina Valle d’Aosta, French Comté or Swiss Gruyère.

Most recipes call for piling the steaming mixture onto a platter, but I gravitated toward layering the pasta, vegetables and cheeses to create a casserole for baking briefly. It can be held after assembly for a while and, if any is left over after cooking, reheated successfully the next day.

Don’t count on leftovers, though. Pizzoccheri is an absolutely delicious dish and I can’t believe it’s taken me so long to discover it.

Like any dish made with homemade pasta, pizzoccheri takes time but is especially worthwhile because you’d be hard put to buy buckwheat tagliatelle. It’s a great group project–my husband and I had a blast making pizzoccheri with our friends Maria, Mel and Vivian.

Next on my Valtellina cooking agenda is sciatt, a dialect word for “toad.” I’ll have to look into the story about that, but only after test firing a batch of these cheese-filled buckwheat fritters, served on a bed of chicory.

Print
Pizzoccheri
Prep Time
40 mins
Cook Time
20 mins
Total Time
1 hr
 

This buckwheat pasta dish is a specialty of the Italy's Valtellina area, close to the Swiss border.

Course: Main Dish
Cuisine: Italian, northern Italian
Servings: 6 servings
Ingredients
  • ½ cup butter 8 tablespoons
  • 2 large onions thinly sliced
  • Sea salt or kosher salt
  • 2 large potatoes peeled, diced small
  • 5 cups shredded cabbage preferably Savoy
  • 2 or 3 garlic cloves peeled, slivered
  • Leaves from 2 sprigs sage snipped in ribbons
  • 1 pound buckwheat tagliatelle recipe follows
  • 6 ounces Alpine cheese such as Italian Fontina Valle d'Aosta, French Comté or Swiss Gruyère shredded (about 2 cups)
  • 2 ounces Parmigiano Reggiano or Grana Padano cheese shredded (about 1 cup)
  • Freshly ground black pepper
Instructions
  1. Use 1 tablespoon soft butter to coat a large baking dish.
  2. Melt 3 tablespoons butter in a large skillet. Saute onions until soft and golden brown. Melt 2 tablespoons butter in a small skillet. Saute garlic and sage until bronzed but not browned. Mix with sautéed onions.
  3. Bring a large saucepan two-thirds filled with water to a boil. Add a small handful of salt. Cook potatoes 5 minutes. Add cabbage and cook until vegetables are just tender. Dip vegetables out with a strainer (an Asian kitchen “spider” works best) and transfer to skillet with onions. Mix gently.
  4. When water returns to a boil, add tagliatelle, stirring gently to separate strands. When water returns to a boil, cook until tender, about 3 minutes. Using a strainer, transfer to a bowl. Add remaining 2 tablespoons butter in bits and toss gently to coat as butter melts.
  5. Preheat oven to 375°F. Assemble dish: Spread one third of tagliatelle on bottom of prepared pan. Spread one third of potato-cabbage-onion mixture on top. Sprinkle with salt and pepper. Add one third of fontina and Parmigiano Reggiano cheeses. Repeat layers twice.
  6. Cook uncovered until heated through and top is lightly browned, about 20 minutes.
Print
Buckwheat Tagliatelle
Prep Time
45 mins
 

These noodles, cut shorter than regular tagliatelle, are used in the Valtellina to make a dish called pizzoccheri.

Course: Pasta
Cuisine: Italian
Servings: 6 servings
Ingredients
  • 1¾ cups buckwheat flour about 200 grams
  • 1½ cups all-purpose flour about 200 grams (preferably Italian doppio zero), plus more flour for the counter
  • 2 large pinches kosher or sea salt
Instructions
  1. Make tagliatelle: Whisk together buckwheat and all-purpose flour with salt in a bowl. Drizzle with water, mixing with a fork, until dough begins to cohere (about 1 cup altogether). Knead until smooth and not sticky, about 10 minutes. Cover with a towel and let rest 10 minutes.

  2. Break off a piece of dough the size of an extra-large egg. Flatten into a square, dust with all-purpose flour and run through widest setting of pasta maker.* Change setting to next slot and run pasta through again. Continue to narrower settings, stopping on the second or third to last. Cut sheet horizontally in half if necessary for length of about 8 inches. Lay sheet on floured counter or tray, and continue in same way with remaining dough.

  3. Attach handle to pasta cutter. Cut each sheet to make tagliatelle. Place on floured trays, with a tea towel or waxed paper between layers, or on spokes of a pasta dryer. Dry for at least 20 minutes before cooking.
Recipe Notes

* Alternatively, roll the piece of dough until very thin and cut in narrow strips. 

New Year’s Risotto with Lentils and Black-eyed Peas

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This risotto, rich with legumes and savory bits of pork, promises good luck and prosperity whether you’re celebrating New Year’s in Italy or America.

It’s lentils, with their vaguely coin-like shape, that many Italians will be eating on New Year’s Day. Often they’re consumed with a fatty pork sausage called cotechino or the equally over-the-top zampone, a sausage-stuffed pig’s trotter.

I love dishes like that but my supermarket is lacking in cotechino and zampone. Plus, like lots of other Americans, my family insists on eating black-eyed peas on New Year’s Day. Always some variation on Hoppin’ John, the Southern dish made with rice–savory, spicy, nourishing, delicious.

Still, nudging our New Year’s custom a little closer to Italy seemed like a worthy goal.  I was happy to learn that in Piemonte, Italy’s premier rice-growing region, lentils are sometimes mixed into risotto as a New Year’s dish.

I set out to put a good-luck dish that hit all the key ingredients. Rice, check. Pork, check. Lentils, check.

Leaving black-eyed peas out didn’t feel right, though. And why should I? Italians were introduced a few centuries back to fagioli dall’ occhio, along with other New World ingredients, and they’re widely available.

My cross-cultural risotto has both lentils and black-eyed peas. You can choose just one or the other, of course, but for stepping into the new year with maximum confidence, I recommend including both.

Be sure to serve this risotto with currency-colored greens–spinach, kale, collard greens, your choice–prized in Italy and America alike as a food that promises good things in 2018.

Print
Risotto with Lentils and Black-eyed Peas
Prep Time
30 mins
Cook Time
30 mins
Total Time
1 hr
 

Believed to bring good luck, these legumes are eaten on New Year's Day.

Course: Appetizer, Main Dish
Cuisine: Italian
Servings: 6 servings
Ingredients
  • 6 cups vegetable broth
  • 2 tablespoons butter
  • 1 tablespoon olive oil
  • 1 cup chopped onion
  • 1 cup diced celery or fennel
  • 2 medium carrots diced
  • 3 ounces thick-cut pancetta cut in small cubes
  • 2 cloves garlic finely chopped
  • 2 cups Arborio or Carnaroli rice
  • 1 cup cooked lentils, preferably the French/green kind* drained
  • 1 cup cooked black-eyed peas* drained
  • Sea salt
  • Freshly ground black pepper
  • Ground red pepper or hot sauce optional
  • ½ cup grated Parmigiano Reggiano or Grana Padano cheese plus more for the table
Instructions
  1. Bring broth to a simmer in a small saucepan. Heat butter and olive oil in a medium skillet over medium heat. Add onion, celery, carrots, pancetta and garlic. Cook, stirring occasionally, until vegetables are just tender and pancetta has given off most fat. Stir in rice. Cook for a couple of minutes until grains are coated and smell toasty.
  2. Add broth to barely cover pan’s contents and stir well. Simmer until most liquid is absorbed. Continue adding broth, stirring, until rice is just tender. Gently stir in lentils and black-eyed peas. Season to taste with salt, pepper and, if using, ground red pepper.
  3. Stir in a final dose of broth (you may not need it all) and grated cheese. Let stand, off heat, for 5 minutes.
  4. Serve in shallow bowls and pass cheese.
Recipe Notes

* I usually cook dried lentils and dried or fresh black-eyed peas, separately, adding onion, celery and carrot trimmings and bay leaves to the cooking water. Any surplus can be used for other purposes. But you could also use canned or frozen legumes.

Sampling Umbrian Wines and Olive Oil at the Source

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A few years ago I spent a day visiting Sagrantino wine producers with Alessandra Mallotti of Discovering Umbria. That taste of a unique varietal in its glorious country setting brought me back to sample some of the region’s organic wines and olive oil.

It hadn’t occurred to me that last year’s earthquakes in Umbria (also Abruzzi and Lazio) would be an obstacle to this experience–and they weren’t. So we were surprised to hear from Alessandra that tourism has taken a blow as travellers avoid what they think might be devastated or dangerous places.

I can vouch for the fact that the zone we were in, roughly between Assisi and Todi, was untouched, and we hear that areas such as Norcia have largely recovered.

Simona Bonci, Alessandra Mallotti, Kent Lydecker

Some of the Ronci azienda’s olive trees are ancient, gnarled moraiolo trees with appropriately silver leaves that might be as old as 400 years. They’re tall, requiring ladders for harvesting and well spaced, pointing to an era when the goal was to produce oil just for the family and the padrone, with the spaces between filled with other crops and animals. Others are leccini and frantoio varieties, sitting closer to the ground.

The cluster of olives Simona Ronci pointed to was the size of her fingernail. But she was already thinking about the moment in mid-October when they would be plump and juicy, filling the air with their perfume during the pressing. “The days are still warm then but the nights are cool, and the olives respond by producing more antioxidants,” says Simona. “This is the ideal moment.”

The sooner the olives are pressed after the harvest, minimizing oxidation, the better the quality of the oil. In a race against time, the family’s modern presses work around the clock, pressing olives from other producers during the day and their own olives at night. Two or three hours of sleep might be the norm during this period.

Federico Bibi

The flavor of the oil hints at the tree(s) of its origin. A blend of moraiolo, leccino and frantoio carries a slight astringency that clears the palate, a hint of green tomato and artichoke, a peppery finish. More delicate, the frantoio on its own. The moraiolo monovarietal is full-bodied, with an artichoke note and piquant finish, and that was the one we shipped home.

Around the time the olives are harvested, the vineyards are a raging colorfest of dark red grapes. During our visit to the Terre Margaritelli cantina, in the Torgiano Sangiovese area near Assisi, the emerging leaves were a bright spring green.

The family started in the lumber business, producing wood products such as railroad ties and now parquet flooring. One generation started making wine on the side and, when the family decided to get serious, they found it a very different world from lumber.

Federico Bibi, hired from outside, is now the wine maker. The operation is organic (“bio”), like the Ronci olive operation, and rigorous inspections take place at least two or three times a year.

Other varietals are grown here but during the tasting we gravitated to 100% Grecchetto and Sangiovese wines.  Grecchetto tastes of apple to a friend and reminds me somehow of a limestone cliff. Regardless of your personal associations, it is a delicious white aged three months in white oak from a French forest owned by the azienda.

What’s special about an Umbrian sangiovese? “This is a southernmost terrain for sangiovese,” says Federico. “It’s a ‘generous’ grape that leaves a lot to the skills of the winemaker. Our goal is freshness, a balanced style and drinkability.”

Freccia degli Scacchi, the azienda’s 100% Sangiovese, is aged two years in white oak from a French forest owned by the family, and and then another year once bottled.

We bought Terre Margaritelli wines to enjoy later, but on our last night in Todi, we chose a Sagrantino to savor with Umbrian salumi and cheeses at La Vineria di San Fortunata. I’m already looking forward to tasting more of what this region has to offer, whether at the source and back home in the States.

 

Tagliata con Rucola (AKA Italian Steak and Arugula Salad)

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Rosy slices of grilled steak on a bed of dressed arugula, with Parmigiano Reggiano shavings and a few ripe tomato wedges. in 2016 that dish sounds pleasing but hardly surprising. In the summer of 1985,  though, during a sultry July in Tuscany, it seemed fresh and new. Suddenly this steak and arugula salad was everywhere.

I remember encountering tagliata con rucola for the first time in a hillside restaurant with a terrace, overlooking the steaming city of Florence, where we had gone to escape the heat. Looking around, I could see other customers digging into an appetizing toss of greens strewn artfully with strips of beef and cheese curls. I couldn’t wait to taste it.

Bistecca alla fiorentina has always been, of course, a standard offering of Tuscan restaurants. Usually an enormous slab of beef (traditionally, from the Chianina cow), cooked al sangue (very rare). And often accompanied by a salad that might include tomatoes. Slicing a steak, whether boneless or bone in, turns it into a tagliata di manzo and, somehow, placing the strips ON the salad with a few embellishments creates a perfect unity of flavors.

I don’t know which clever chef first assembled tagliata con rucola, which became a standard in home kitchens as well as restaurants.  Checking Italian sites such as cucinaitaliana.it, I scrolled through tagliata musings by cooks debating whether to rub olive oil on the steak before grilling, or suggesting black Hawaiian sea,  or rhapsodizing over the merits of a pizzico (bit) of butter or drizzle of traditional Balsamic vinegar after grilling the steak.

Returning from an early fall visit to friends in North Carolina, I tucked green Cherokee tomatoes into every corner of my suitcase. When they ripened, I set aside two from this precious bounty, bought a prime steak (go to Locale, St. Pete people) and some arugula from the farmer’s market. With hardly any effort, we had a feast.

When tomatoes are out of season, no need to wait until next year for tagliata con rucola. Substitute roasted potato wedges. Or chunks of roasted or pickled beets. Or braised sweet-sour cipolline onions.

TAGLIATA
Print
Italian Steak and Arugula Salad
Prep Time
20 mins
Cook Time
8 mins
Total Time
28 mins
 
Course: Main Course, Salad
Cuisine: Italian
Servings: 2 people
Ingredients
  • 1 pound boneless well-marbled beef steak such as New York strip steak or ribeye
  • Extra virgin olive oil
  • Sea salt
  • Freshly ground black pepper
  • 6 ounces arugula
  • Juice of 1/2 lemon
  • 1 or 2 ripe tomatoes cut in wedges
  • Chunk of Parmigiano Reggiano or Grana Padano cheese or 2 to 3 ounces crumbled Gorgonzola cheese
Instructions
  1. Rub both sides of the steak with a little olive oil and sprinkle generously with salt and pepper. Let stand until room temperature.
  2. Prepare a hot fire on a gas or charcoal grill. Grill the steak, turning once, until seared and cooked to rare or medium rare (about 8 minutes, depending on thickness). Transfer with tongs to a cutting board and let stand for a few minutes until the juices are reabsorbed.
  3. Toss the arugula in a large bowl with 2 tablespoons of olive oil, more or less, the lemon juice, and salt and pepper to taste. Arrange greens on 2 dinner plates.
  4. Slice steak across the grain at a diagonal and place in the center of the greens. Using a vegetable peeler, cut shavings from the Parmigiano wedge, letting them fall directly onto the salad. Place tomato wedges around the edges of the plates.

 

Italian Steak and Arugula Salad

(makes 2 servings)

1 pound boneless well-marbled beef steak such as New York strip steak or ribeye
Extra virgin olive oil
Sea salt
Freshly ground black pepper
6 ounces arugula
Juice of 1/2 lemon
1 or 2 ripe tomatoes, cut in wedges
Chunk of Parmigiano Reggiano or Grana Padano cheese, or 2 to 3 ounces crumbled Gorgonzola cheese

1. Rub both sides of the steak with a little olive oil and sprinkle generously with salt and pepper. Let stand until room temperature.

2. Prepare a hot fire on a gas or charcoal grill. Grill the steak, turning once, until seared and cooked to rare or medium rare (about 8 minutes, depending on thickness). Transfer with tongs to a cutting board and let stand for a few minutes until the juices are reabsorbed.

3. Toss the arugula in a large bowl with 2 tablespoons of olive oil, more or less, the lemon juice, and salt and pepper to taste. Arrange greens on 2 dinner plates.

4. Slice steak across the grain at a diagonal and place in the center of the greens. Using a vegetable peeler, cut shavings from the Parmigiano wedge, letting them fall directly onto the salad. Place tomato wedges around the edges of the plates.

 

Giardiniera and Other Pickled Vegetables

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Pickling isn’t just for cucumbers anymore. It’s a huge trend, whether taking the form of traditional mixes like Italian giardiniera or the wildly creative combinations of someone like Ilene Sofranko, owner of Urban Canning Company here in St. Pete.

Their exuberantly flavored offerings include chili and fennel Brussels sprouts, sraracha peppered okra and ginger-spiced beets. Sign up for one of Ilene’s classes–the upcoming session on making chow chow from summer’s end vegetables, for instance–and she’ll spill her hardwon pickling secrets.

I’ve made pickles myself–most often giardiniera (“from the garden”), Italy’s most famous pickled-vegetable combo. The brine is sweetened with a little sugar, giving it the sweet-sour flavor profile much loved in Italy. I start with cauliflower, carrots and onions, then add whatever is seasonal or appealing–perhaps peppers, green beans, fennel, zucchini. It’s important to take care in cutting the vegetables–the pieces need to be about the same size and look pretty.

A new cookbook called Preserving Italy, by Domenica Marchetti, is an excellent source on the Italian art of pickling. I earmarked a recipe for wine-spiked julienne carrots to remember when I run across heirloom carrots and instead made her pickled beets and spring onions. Apple cider, though not a traditional Italian ingredient, gives fruity verve to this pickled combo, with spicy notes added by juniper berries, peppercorns, cloves and bay leaves.

Domenica and Ilene can tell you how to do the water-bath canning that keeps jars shelf stable for up to a year, but I don’t bother with that. However satisfying it would be to survey shelves of jewel-like pickled vegetables, I don’t have the space–or, frankly, the inclination. Instead, I prepare a small batch, transfer the vegetables and their brine to jars and refrigerate for a few days to infuse the flavorings. Then we eat them at will, always returning the jars to the fridge, in the course of about a month.

How to eat giardiniera and other pickled veggies? Drain well and eat on the side with burgers, fish, roast chicken or just about anything, really. Add to an Italian rice salad. Chopped a bit finer, they turn into a condiment with a special affinity for sandwiches. In our Chicago days, I remember giardiniera on Italian beef sandwiches. The mix can also be subbed for olive salad in a muffuletta and would be delicious on a hot dog.

Or have a party (I recommend a barbecue) and clear out your pickled vegetables in one fell swoop. When you feel like making more, see what’s in season and go for it.

PICKLED
Print
Giardiniera with Pearl Onions
Prep Time
35 mins
Cook Time
15 mins
Total Time
50 mins
 
Course: Salad, Side Dish
Cuisine: Italian
Servings: 2 quarts
Ingredients
  • 10 ounces cipolline or pearl onions
  • 1 small head cauliflower
  • 3 medium carrots
  • 3 celery stalks or 1 small head fennel
  • 4 cloves garlic
  • 1 1/2 cups wine vinegar
  • 1 1/2 cups distilled vinegar
  • 2 tablespoons olive oil
  • 3 tablespoons sugar
  • 1 1/2 tablespoons salt
  • 2 bay leaves
  • 2 small fresh or dried hot peppers
  • 1 teaspoon black or mixed peppercorns
Instructions

  1. 1. Cut the cauliflower florets and stems in small pieces (about 4 cups). Cut pepper in square pieces about the same size. Angle cut the carrots in thin slices. Cut the fennel in thin wedges. Halve the garlic cloves.

 

Giardiniera

Makes about 2 quarts

10 ounces cipolline or pearl onions
1 small head cauliflower
3 medium carrots
3 celery stalks or 1 small head fennel
4 cloves garlic
1 1/2 cups wine vinegar
1 1/2 cups distilled vinegar
2 tablespoons olive oil
3 tablespoons sugar
1 1/2 tablespoons salt
2 bay leaves
2 small fresh or dried hot peppers
1 teaspoon black or mixed peppercorns

1. Bring a medium saucepan of cold water to a boil. Add the onions and cook for about 15 seconds. Drain, cool under running water and slip off the skins; clip the tips with shears as needed but do not cut off the stem ends (the onions would fall apart). Separate the cauliflower florets from the stalks and cut both in small (1- to 1 1/2-inch) pieces. Angle cut the carrots and celery in similar-sized pieces. Halve the onions if large and cut the garlic lengthwise in half. You should have about 2 pounds of vegetables altogether.

2. Combine the vinegars and olive oil with 1 1/2 cups cold water in a large saucepane. Add sugar, salt, bay leaves, hot peppers and peppercorns. Bring to a boil and stir to dissolve the sugar and salt. Add the cauliflower, carrots, celery, onions and garlic. When the liquid returns to a boil, adjust the heat to a brisk simmer and cook for 2 minutes. Cover and cool.

3. Using a slotted spoon, transfer the vegetables into two quart jars or four pint jars. Make sure the vegetables are well covered with the brine. Refrigerate for a few days to blend flavors. Use within a month, discarding the bay leaves and peppercorns.

 

Making Ricotta at Home–Worth the Trouble?

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Homemade ricotta had been on my “to do” list for awhile. Not a big deal: three ingredients and maybe 10 minutes of active attention. So I can’t explain why I didn’t get around to it. But one fine afternoon…ricotta making rose to the top of the list.

Ricotta means “recooked” and for a cheese maker, is a thrifty way of capturing remaining nutrients in whey, a byproduct of the process for more celebrated cheeses such as Parmigiano Reggiano. Whey isn’t exactly a supermarket staple, so homemade ricotta is usually made from milk and sometimes, for extra richness, with cream.  Instead of calling for rennet or a cheese culture, ricotta is formed by adding an acid, usually white vinegar or citric acid, to the heated liquid. Curds are separated from the whey, draining through cheesecloth to make the soft cheese.

How-tos are not to be found in the works of Pellegrino Artusi, the so-called “father of Italian cooking” or in a sampling the several hundred Italian cookbooks on my shelves. These sources assume that ricotta is a purchased ingredient unless you happen to own a cow or ewe.

Instead, I found advice by diving into Internet adventures of cheese making enthusiasts–some chefs or professional cheese makers but mostly hobbyists. Invariably they rave about the ease of making ricotta and urge the rest of us to get going. But even before heading for the kitchen, I picked up a pattern from the troubleshooting hints and reader comments. It seems that sometimes quantities of fluffy ricotta rise magically to the top of the hot milk, and sometimes they do not. The fact is that milk can behave in a temperamental way, presenting challenges even for a simple cheese such as ricotta.

For instance, it makes sense that you’d want to start with the best possible milk–perhaps your favorite organic brand. In my case that’s Organic Valley. But organic milk is typically ultra pasteurized and, uh oh, often doesn’t curdle properly. Ditto for heavy cream.

A second issue: The amount of acid needed to maximize curdling can vary. I discovered this on my first test, which happened to be with raw goat milk. The milk failed to curdle and, hesitant to add more vinegar for fear of creating an off taste, I discarded it.

Next I did several batches using pasteurized whole milk. These were my most successful, especially after I learned a trick for maximizing the quantity of ricotta formed. According to a cheesemaker’s site, keep adding vinegar until the liquid stops looking milky and becomes a watery whey with floating islands of curd. After straining the cheese, stir in a little baking soda to neutalize the acid and eliminate any off flavors. It sounded too chem lab to be true, but I have to say it works.

My last batch was made with the same brand of pasteurized milk, to which I added a little cream. That  mixture failed to curdle no matter how vinegar I added–which seemed to confirm the idea that ultra-pasteurized dairy products don’t take well to ricotta making.

After coming home, my husband was treated to a blind tasting of three ricotta samples. Two were ones I had made. They were received kindly but the winner was the third, which he described as “creamy and mild, with a nice milky finish.”

It came not from our kitchen but from Mazzaro’s, a local Italian specialty market.

So my personal answer to “Worth the trouble to make ricotta at home?” is no–although I do want to try goat milk one more time–because I have a good source of freshly made ricotta. If your only choice is a supermarket brand, bland tasting and laced with stabilizers, give homemade ricotta a try. I suggest you do it in small batches (say, two cups of milk) until you get the results you’re going for. Then ramp up to as much as 1 gallon of milk at a time.

There are a zillion things to do with good ricotta–I use it to make spinach-ricotta gnocchi, baked ricotta (a Sicilian dish), a layered zucchini casserole and, for dessert, a ricotta tart or fried ricotta fritters drizzled with honey. Whether you’ve made ricotta or bought it, be sure to eat some in a simple way. Spread it on crostini, finishing with sea salt, pepper and a drizzle of olive oil. Or place a generous dollop on pasta dressed with a fresh tomato sauce. The flavor is pure, comforting and always welcome in my kitchen.

Ricotta
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Ricotta Made at Home
Prep Time
10 mins
Cook Time
12 mins
Total Time
22 mins
 
Course: Ingredients, Products
Cuisine: Italian
Servings: 1 cup
Ingredients
  • 1 quart whole milk pasteurized, NOT ultra pasteurized
  • 1/2 teaspoon sea salt or kosher salt
  • 1 to 2 tablespoons vinegar or more
  • 1/2 teaspoon baking soda optional
Instructions
  1. 1. Suspend a medium strainer over a bowl. Line it with a double layer of cheesecloth or paper towels.
  2. 2. Over medium-low heat, bring the milk and salt to a gentle simmer in a medium saucepan. Add vinegar and stir once or twice. Cook for 1 to 2 minutes, and remove from the heat. Let rest for 10 minutes.

  3. 3. Scoop off curds with a skimmer and place in the strainer. If the liquid in the pan looks milky, reheat it gently and drizzle in vinegar until more curds form and the liquid turns a translucent yellow-green color. Transfer curds to the strainer (or pour mixture into the strainer).

  4. 4. When curds have drained to a consistency you like, spoon into a bowl. Taste and, if you have added extra vinegar or detect a sour flavor, stir in the baking soda. Refrigerate and use within three days.

 

 

 

Giardiniera or Lightly Pickled Vegetables

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Reading an article about the “farm to jar” pickles and jams made by Tampa Bay entrepreneur Illene Sofranko reminded me that I had squirreled away several jars of her delicious Urban Canning pickled okra and Brussels sprouts in my pantry. And also reminded me it’s time to make the Italian-style pickled vegetables known as giardiniera.

The tradition of putting up pickles goes back to pre-refrigeration days, when preserving seasonal produce was the goal. We don’t really need to do that now, any more than we need to kill and cure a pig every fall. I asked my 83-year-old aunt, our source of family history, whether our Oklahoma farmer forebears did this stuff?

Affirmative on killing a pig–my grandfather did that every year and my grandmother canned sausage made from it. Among the vegetables she canned, as Aunt Pattie remembers it, were cucumber pickles–the dill and bread-and-butter varieties.

My ancestors were from countries like Ireland and Germany. Italians know how to pickle cucumbers, too, but their vegetable mixtures are better known. My version of giardiniera (“from the garden”) consists of cauliflower, bell peppers, fennel and carrots. No fussing with cans steaming in a pressure cooker, like my grandma–I make just enough to fill a large jar for the fridge.

My vegetables are lightly pickled. When the vinegar brine is mixed with generous amounts of water, you can use less sugar for balance, resulting in a gently tangy taste I find more enjoyable than a mouth-puckering pickle.

What to serve pickled vegetables with? Something savory, in my opinion. In Emilia-Romagna bowls of giardiniera are sometimes served alongside platters of prosciutto and other locally cured salumi. Pickled vegetables, purchased or made at home, also make a refreshing side to a burger, pulled pork sandwich or grilled chicken.

GIARDINIERA
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Giardiniera with Bell Pepper
Prep Time
30 mins
Cook Time
10 mins
Total Time
40 mins
 
(Adapted from my cookbook, Piatto Unico)
Course: Ingredients, Products
Servings: 6 servings
Ingredients
  • 1 small head cauliflower
  • 1 large red yellow or green bell pepper, trimmed and seeded
  • 2 medium carrots peeled
  • 1 small fennel bulb
  • 4 garlic cloves
  • 1 1/2 cups white wine vinegar
  • 3 to 4 tablespoons sugar
  • 2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
  • 2 teaspoons salt
  • 1 teaspoon black peppercorns
  • 2 bay leaves
  • 1 dried hot red pepper
Instructions
  1. Cut the cauliflower florets and stems in small pieces (about 4 cups). Cut pepper in square pieces about the same size. Angle cut the carrots in thin slices. Cut the fennel in thin wedges. Halve the garlic cloves.
  2. Combine the vinegar with 4 cups water, the sugar, olive oil, salt, peppercorns, bay leaves and hot pepper in a medium saucepan. Bring to a boil; simmer for 10 minutes. Add the vegetables, making sure they are covered; when the liquid returns to a boil, adjust the heat to a brisk simmer. Cook the vegetables until crisp-tender, 2 to 3 minutes.
  3. Remove from the heat and cool in the saucepan. Transfer vegetables and liquid to a jar or other container; refrigerate. Strain before serving.

 

 

 

Ricotta Fritters with Maple Syrup

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Corner of Vermont is a store that sells maple syrup, maple sugar and maple candies. Also, the state’s maple-flavored creemees, which look like soft-serve ice cream but have more butterfat and therefore taste better.

Nothing too surprising, except what’s a store named Corner of Vermont doing in the heart of Brooklyn’s Park Slope neighborhood?

“I got tired of losing money as a Vermont farmer,” says Mark Hastings. He noticed that many customers at his seasonal roadside stand were from Brooklyn. So he followed them, setting up shop in Park Slope to sell products from the 250-acre Guilford Farm.

Another question: Why’s his single-estate maple syrup better than the 100% Vermont maple syrup found in any supermarket? Seems that, as with wine or olive oil, terroir can make a difference. Maple syrup is a living thing whose flavor and color vary according to the soil, climate and advancing season. So maple syrup from a single farm is likely to have distinctive properties lacked by supermarket syrup, which might be made with sap from 5,000 farmers. The bottle I chose was a dark amber that Hastings promised would deliver “straight-ahead maple flavor.”

Just then a stream of middle-schoolers charged into the store, demanding creemees and other after-school treats. I stopped asking questions and left.

And started thinking about what to do with my maple syrup. The usual, of course–pancakes, French toast, the occasional marinade. But this blog is about “cooking Italian anywhere” and therein lies the challenge. Italians don’t typically consume maple syrup. Or even like it, which may disappoint the proud Americans who give it to Italian friends as a gourmet gift.

Still, there had to be some good use for maple syrup in the Italian cooking canon. And then it came to me: the sweet ricotta fritters known as bombolette or, in Tuscany, as cenci. If honey is drizzled over them (and it is), why not maple syrup? I whipped up some fritters, and–oh yes!  Maple syrup, right at home in Italy.

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Ricotta Fritters with Maple Syrup
Prep Time
20 mins
Cook Time
20 mins
Total Time
40 mins
 

Adapted from Marcella Hazan's More Classic Italian Cooking

Course: Dessert
Cuisine: Italian
Servings: 4 servings
Ingredients
  • 2 eggs
  • 8 ounces best-quality ricotta
  • 2 tablespoons butter at room temperature
  • 1/3 cup flour
  • Grated zest of 1 lemon
  • 1 pinch sea salt
  • Vegetable oil
  • 1/2 cup maple syrup
Instructions

  1. Whisk the eggs in a medium bowl until light and foamy. Add the ricotta and butter. Continue whisking until creamy. Add the flour a little at a time until incorporated. Beat in the zest and salt. Let stand at room temperature for at least 1 hour but no more than 3.

  2. Fill a small skillet or wide saucepan with enough oil to come 1/2 inch up the sides. Heat over medium high heat until the oil shimmers. Working in batches, add the batter 1 tablespoon at a time, pushing it off with another spoon. The batter will sink, then rise to the top and puff up a little. When golden brown, turn and cook on the other side. Drain on paper towels.
  3. Place the fritters on a platter or individual plates and drizzle with maple syrup. Serve hot.

 

 

 

 

Mexican Squash Blossom Soup

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Mexican squash blossom soup

Recently I sampled artisanal mescal, cicciarones-filled gorditas and flautas with hibiscus flowers in Mexico City. All memorable. But back home what I couldn’t wait to make was squash blossom soup.

Actually that was just one of several superb soups I tasted in this great city. At the Hilton Mexico City Reforma‘s terrace restaurant, our waiter set down a bowl with formations of congealed consommé. As he ladled hot broth, they dissolved into a rich soup with peas and bits of celery and carrot. So simple, but the aroma evoked a memory of what I think was the first homemade chicken soup I ever ate…as it happens, in Mexico City.

I spent a couple of months in Mexico City after college and the family cook in the home where I was staying made chicken soup every few days. I wasn’t too focused on food at the time but did have the good sense to notice it was a far cry from the Campbell’s soup I’d grown up on.

This time I sipped tortilla soup in the gorgeous Hotel Ciudad de Mexico, overlooking the Zocolo. In Mexico City for a conference, we had the good fortune to eat in some unusual venues. For the mid-day comida in the courtyard of Antiguo Colegio de San ildefonso, surrounded by Diego Rivera murals, our first course was a dried chickpea soup that would win approval in any southern Italian household. My favorite, at a formal dinner in the ornate Palacio de Bellas Artes: a creamy puree with a squash flower floating in the middle.

Mexico’s growing seasons are similar to Florida’s, so squash blossoms were easy to come by in my local farmers market. I also added summer squash, fresh corn and part of a spicy red roasted poblano to my soup mix. Chicken broth for depth of flavor and heavy cream for a smooth finish. My very yummy squash flower soup didn’t look or taste exactly like that Mexico City sopa, but close enough to make me start dreaming about a repeat visit.

 

tortilla soup

dried chickpea soup

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Print
Mexican Squash Blossom Soup
Prep Time
45 mins
Cook Time
45 mins
Total Time
1 hr 30 mins
 
Course: Soup
Cuisine: Mexican
Servings: 6 servings
Ingredients
  • 24 summer squash blossoms
  • 2 small zucchini
  • 2 ears corn
  • 1 medium potato
  • 2 tablespoons butter
  • 2 to 3 cups salted chicken broth
  • ½ cup heavy cream
  • Salt
  • Roasted hot red pepper or ground red pepper
  • 1 tablespoon cornstarch dissolved in ¼ cup water
  • Fried tortilla strips for garnish, optional
Instructions
  1. Gently wash the squash flowers, break off stems and pluck out the stamens.  Peel 1 zucchini and cut in thick slices. Cut the other (unpeeled) in small dice. Shuck the corn and cut off and reserve kernels and scraped cobs. Peel the potato and cut in chunks.
  2. Melt the butter in a medium saucepan over medium-low heat. Cook the onion, covered, until translucent but not browned. Reserving 6 squash blossoms for garnish, stir in the rest. Add half the corn kernels, the cobs and the potato. Cover with chicken broth.  Bring to a simmer and cook, partly covered, until vegetables are very tender, about 25 minutes. Remove corn cobs. Stir in the cream. Cool until warm. Using a blender, puree the soup until smooth. Season with salt and roasted or ground red pepper to taste, blending briefly.
  3. Return the soup to the saucepan. Stir in the diced zucchini, corn kernels and cornstarch slurry. Reheat gently until the vegetables are cooked and the soup thickens. Spoon into bowls, topping each with a squash blossom and, if using, fried tortilla strips.