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Perfect Eggplant Parmesan

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Nobody needs more than one recipe for eggplant parmesan, any more than you need multiple methods for perfect scrambled eggs or a perfect grilled cheese sandwich.

Problem was my eggplant parmesan recipe, acquired years ago from an Italian-American cook, wasn’t perfect. The eggplant slices were brushed with oil and broiled. It contained ricotta as well as mozzarella and parmesan.  Sounds okay but the result was always a bit disappointing. Eventually I drifted away from it.

Then I tasted eggplant parm–otherwise known as melazane alla parmigiana–as executed by Maria Silvestri, co-owner of Casa del Pane in St. Pete Beach. Under a bronzed crust, a meltingly delicious marriage of fried eggplant, cheeses and tomato sauce.

At Casa del Pane, you can savor a mozzarella & grilled veggie sandwich made with Pugliese bread still warm from their ovens.  Or sip a cappuccino at the bar while chatting in Italian with a regular. Or stock up on artisanal pasta, regional wines and choice canned tomatoes.

But you can’t eat Anna’s eggplant parmesan at Casa del Pane. “It’s a family dish we enjoy at home, made the way I learned in Puglia,” she says.

Anna agreed to share the recipe for publication in Food + Art: Cooking around Tampa Bay with the Museum of Fine Arts (buy a copy if you haven’t already). To make sure I had it right, I asked lots of questions. Are the eggplants peeled? “I do but it’s the cook’s decision.” How thick are the slices? She held thumb and forefinger a fraction of an inch apart. What kind of canned tomatoes? “A good imported brand such as La Valle.” What else makes her version special?  “No breadcrumbs! I think they make the dish too heavy.”

The eggplant is fried, after being dipped in flour and beaten egg, and I’ve never had a guest who didn’t ask for a second helping. I think there’s a connection. That never happened with my broiled eggplant parm.

I could give you the argument that, when food is fried properly, most of the oil stays in the pan. That happens to be true, but the real reason I make this classic dish Maria’s way: It tastes perfect.

Print
Eggplant Parmesan
Prep Time
45 mins
Cook Time
40 mins
Total Time
1 hr 25 mins
 
Course: Main Course
Cuisine: Italian
Servings: 8 people
Ingredients
  • 1 small onion peeled and finely chopped
  • 2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
  • 1 28-ounce can good-quality plum tomatoes in puree
  • Salt
  • 4 small eggplants about 2½ pounds
  • ¾ cup all-purpose flour or as needed
  • 4 or 5 eggs
  • Vegetable oil
  • 1 pound mozzarella cheese coarsely grated, divided
  • 4 ounces Parmigiano Reggiano grated, divided
  • 1 cup basil leaves divided
Instructions
  1. Make sauce: Saute onion with olive oil until golden in a medium saucepan. Add tomatoes and ½ teaspoon salt. Cook at a brisk simmer, breaking up tomatoes with a wooden spoon, until onion is cooked and tomatoes soften, about 10 minutes. Cool to warm. Using a blender or food processor, process to a chunky sauce.
  2. Preheat oven to 450°F. Peel eggplant or not, depending on preference. Cut in ½-inch slices. Place flour in a shallow bowl and, in a second bowl, beat eggs with 1 teaspoon salt. Coat slices with flour on both sides, dusting off excess.  Dip in egg, allowing excess to drop off.
  3. Fill large deep skillet with at least ½ inch vegetable oil. Heat over medium-high heat until shimmering. Fry eggplant until golden brown on both sides. Drain on a platter lined with paper towels and blot with more paper towels.
  4. Ladle sauce over bottom of a 13x9x2-inch baking pan (see Note). Arrange a layer of eggplant on top. Sprinkle with half the mozzarella, Parmigiano Reggiano and basil. Repeat layers, finishing with sauce and cheeses.
  5. Bake uncovered for 25 to 30 minutes until bubbling and browned on top. Cool at least 15 minutes before cutting.
Recipe Notes

Note: In a smaller pan, you may need to repeat the sequence of layers three times rather than twice.

 

 

 

South Florida’s Black Sturgeon Caviar

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Caviar. Not an everyday thing for most people, including me—but for New Year’s Eve, Valentine’s Day or a milestone birthday, caviar is pretty much guaranteed to set off a giddy feeling of celebration. Assuming you serve it with plenty of Champagne or prosecco.

My go-to caviar hors d’oeuvre consists of steamed fingerling potatoes, their insides scooped, mixed with crème fraiche and chives, piled back in the shells and garnished with caviar. Salmon roe look lovely but for a big flourish (and a big splurge), it’s gotta be glistening black sturgeon caviar. Which brings us to newly branded Black Opal Premium Reserve Caviar, processed just down the road in Sarasota and shippable anywhere in the U.S.

South Florida caviar? Seems counterintuitive that eggs from sturgeon, fish that love icy waters, would come from our semi-tropical region. But that’s what’s happening at Healthy Earth Sarasota, where acquaculture operations director Jim Michaels showed me around.

Michaels, a veteran of sturgeon farming in northern California, oversaw  development of the technology by Mote Marine Laboratory, a leader in sustainable uses of marine resources. Last September the not-for-profit decided the time was right for investment company Seven Holdings to take over the marketing, sales and distribution of its carefully nurtured product. The brand name Healthy Earth Sarasota distinguishes it from the company’s other sustainable seafood ventures along Florida’s west coast.

My tour started with a tank of tadpole-sized Siberian sturgeon, feeding on nutrients in the sacs they’re hatched with. The chilled water is what their species are accustomed to but as they grow and move to new tanks, they gradually adjust to higher water temperatures, thereby reducing power needs. Mote Marine also pioneered rigorous methods of water filtering and reuse, resulting in far less demand for fresh water than a typical fish farming operation.

Michaels told me the dark fish with strange snouts darting through water in the last tanks were up to seven years old. Sometimes that’s how long the eggs take to mature. Seven years. It might take that long to grow an olive tree, but the tree produces fruit year after year. A fully matured sturgeon represents a one-time investment. It’s not hard to see why caviar costs so much.

We moved on to a processing room where a worker was filleting sturgeon, its precious eggs already harvested, to be sold in fish markets. And then the sterile space where the eggs are gently rubbed against a screen to eliminate ovarian tissue before being mixed by hand with kosher salt, using the “lightly salted” Malossol method. Grading by egg size, color and firmness follows similar
criteria as for Caspian Sea beluga, osetra and sevruga—but the sturgeon species are different, so to avoid confusion, Black Opal is designated as “osetra-class caviar.”

Processors pack the caviar in jars ranging in size from the two ounces a consumer like me might buy to a one-kilo tin sold to restaurants such as Restaurant BT, where caviar is paired with big-eye tuna or used as a garnish for cucumber-pumpkin-coconut soup.  Caviar from different fish is never mixed in a container. It requires aging for a month under refrigeration and, as with Champagne, the containers must be rotated according to a set schedule.

Asked how he likes to eat caviar, Michaels said, “Naked.”  Making a fist, he showed how to place caviar in the crevice between thumb and index finger. I’ve seen  Italians do the same thing when tasting freshly pressed olive oil.

I was dying to know how Black Opal caviar tasted. A few days later I found out, as our guests ate their way through a platterful of creamy fingerlings topped with caviar. I’m not an expert but to me it tasted delicious—delicately briny and uniquely suited for celebrations.

 

 

 

 

 

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.

 

 

 

Calamondin Marmalade. Huh?

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I didn’t know and on the chance you don’t either: Calamondins are tart little citrus fruits related to kumquats.  More often than not, they end up in marmalade.

Calamondins fall into the category of obscure Florida fruits you’ll encounter only if lucky enough to know someone with a tree. We do, as it happens. After lunch with friends in Cedar Key, our host stripped their branches bare and sent us home with a good six pounds to play with.

When I shared some at a meeting, most participants politely took a calamondin to sample. But one declined. “Thank you, but I have a whole orchard of sour oranges,” she said sourly, alluding to the citrus greening problem that is afflicting Florida growers.

By then I had already had a go at making marmalade, collating advice from our friends and a surprisingly large number of Web sites that knew about calamondins. They all called for removing seeds and slicing the fruit, skin and all. After adding water and bringing to a boil, you add sugar. And then let the mixture sit for up to a day. I don’t know much about putting up preserves, so this step puzzled me until I read somewhere that the waiting period allows more natural pectin to be extracted from the fruit. Then you boil the fruit until thick. Simple.

All went well until I left the kitchen and forgot about the saucepan boiling on the stove. “What’s that funky smell?” demanded my husband as he arrived home. It was my calamondin marmalade, thoroughly blackened and welded to the bottom and sides of the pan.

A couple of days later I tried again with the remaining calamondins–setting the kitchen timer at intervals to jolt my aging brain into checking the marmalade. This time, success.  Hours later, I had a Little House on the Prairie moment as I spooned the glossy umber-colored mixture into jars. We’d harvested fruit and put it up for the winter!

Well, not exactly. At the last minute, I stirred bits of candied ginger into the marmalade–I’m betting Ma didn’t have that in her pantry on the big prairie. Also, rather than going through the canning rigmarole, I just shoved the jars into the refrigerator. The marmalade will be long gone by next winter when–given that we live in Florida–the calamondin trees will be laden again.

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Calamondin or Kumquat Marmalade
Prep Time
1 hr
Cook Time
1 hr 30 mins
Total Time
2 hrs 30 mins
 
Course: Breakfast, Products
Cuisine: American
Servings: 3 cups
Ingredients
  • 1 1/2 pounds calamondins or kumquats
  • 2 cups sugar or more
  • 1/4 cup chopped candied ginger optional
Instructions
  1. Cut the calamondins in half and flick out seeds with the tip of a knife. Cut fruit (peel and all) in thin slices and place in a medium saucepan. Stir in 4 cups water and bring to a boil. Add 2 cups sugar, stirring until dissolved. Taste and add more if you like--the amount depends on how sour the fruit is and your preferences.
  2. Let the fruit mixture stand for several hours or up to 1 day at room temperature.
  3. Bring the calamondin mixture to a boil again. Reduce the heat and simmer briskly until it thickens a little (this will take an hour or more). From this point on, keep a close eye on the marmalade, stirring often as it thickens and darkens in color. Cook to 220°F if you have a candy thermometer, or just go by looks (my method). To see if it will set up, spoon a bit onto a plate and refrigerate for a few minutes.
  4. Stir in the candied ginger, if using. Cool until warm and spoon into clean jars. Refrigerate.

 

 

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.

 

Sicilian Tuna, Potato & Caper Salad

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photo by Tina Rupp

If you’re like me, sometimes you have to step back and just have a salad for dinner.  This one satisfies the yen for fresh greens and vegetables, but the tuna and potatoes add heft, turning what would otherwise be a side salad into a satisfying meal.

When I chose this tuna, potato and caper salad for a cooking demo at the Saturday Morning Market, I realized I could get virtually all the ingredients from the vendors. Organic lettuce and other produce come from Worden Farm, owned and operated by two Ph.D.s in southwest Florida. Olive oil and white wine vinegar from Puglia from Tampa-based V Spicery make a lovely vinaigrette.

A good brand of canned tuna would be fine in this salad,  but I decided instead to use a special technique for poaching fresh tuna in olive oil. Martin Fisher ordered the tuna for me. If you’re not familiar with Fisher’s, his stand, check it out. Any given Saturday Martin can be seen deftly filleting grouper, snapper, mackerel, whatever the catch of the week might be.

Print
Sicilian Tuna, Potato and Caper Salad
Prep Time
15 mins
Cook Time
30 mins
Total Time
45 mins
 
Course: Main Dish, Salad
Cuisine: Italian
Servings: 4 servings
Ingredients
  • 3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
  • 1 tablespoon white wine vinegar
  • 1/4 teaspoon sea salt or kosher salt
  • Freshly ground black pepper
  • 2 medium boiling potatoes peeled and cut in small dice
  • 1 large tomato or roasted red bell pepper
  • 1 celery stalk angle cut in thin slices (about 1/2 cup)
  • 1/2 small sweet onion halved pole to pole, cut in slivers
  • 1 to 2 tablespoons capers preferably salt-cured, rinsed
  • 4 cups torn salad greens
  • 7 ounces good-quality canned tuna or fresh tuna poached in olive oil recipe follows
  • Small black olives such as Gaeta
Instructions
  1. Combine the olive oil, vinegar, salt and black pepper to taste in a medium bowl.
  2. Place the potatoes in a small saucepan, cover with water and bring to a boil; reduce the heat and simmer until tender but not mushy, about 10 minutes. Drain and cool under running water. Add to the bowl with the dressing and gently turn the potatoes until coated.
  3. Halve the tomato and scoop out the insides; cut the shell in thin strips. Alternatively, cut a roasted pepper in strips. Add to the potatoes along with the celery, onion and capers.
  4. Line 4 plates with the greens and spoon the salad over them. Arrange the tuna and olives on top. Makes 4 servings.
Recipe Notes

Tuna Poached in Olive Oil: Cut 1 pound of boneless fresh tuna in large chunks and coat with 1 teaspoon sea salt or kosher salt. Pack tightly in a medium saucepan or small skillet. Add1 rosemary sprig, 1 garlic clove, several peppercorns, a bay leaf and olive oil to cover (about 1 cup). Bring to a simmer over low heat and cook very gently until just cooked through, about 10 minutes. Cool. Transfer the pan contents to a ceramic container or glass jar. Refrigerate for up to a week. To use the tuna, break into smaller pieces. When it’s all gone, discard the oil.

 

 

What to Do with that Panettone

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This is the time of year when Italian delis and e-commerce sites showcase those imposingly tall boxes, each one housing the dome-shaped sweet Christmas bread called panettone. There’s a good chance you’ll receive a panettone as a gift or, beguiled by the sheer size of the box, sweep one into your shopping cart.

Then what?

First, a bit of background. Panettone (“big bread”) originated in Milan and once bakers figured out how to make a shelf-stable version of this regional delicacy, spread far beyond.  You can buy a panettone like the one in my photo for about $8, or opt for the $70 Pasticceria Biasetto panettone, made with long-rising natural starter, Sicilian almonds and organic eggs from the baker’s neighbor.

I don’t agree with the panettone-hating Guardian writer who compared the taste of these traditional dome-shaped Christmas cakes to “Gandhi’s flipflop after three months in the desert.”  But I know where she’s coming from.  All too often, panettone has a dryish consistency that makes you want to quit after a bite or two. And the flavors don’t exactly sing.

Personally, I think there’s something to be said for the versions enhanced with extra ingredients. There’s panettone crusted with hazelnuts, panettone marbled with chocolate, panettone laced with Amarena cherries. Last year I wrote about my favorite, Panbriacone, a panettone-based “drunken” sweet bread spiked with passito, vin santo or rum. But the Bonci family’s production is so small their products aren’t exported to the U.S.–I’d have to catch a flight to Europe to enjoy it.

Back to that basic panettone problem. What to do with it? With its brioche-like texture, panettone is apparently great for desserts such as a lemon-curd bread pudding. I also like the idea of serving slices with zabaglione or crema di mascarpone, as one blogger suggested.

But nah, not this holiday season. If I’m going to bake, it’ll be biscotti or the bûche de Noel I’ve been planning to make for the last decade or two. Here are four ideas that won’t keep you in the kitchen.

Panettone Cubes: Cut the panettone in 2-inch cubes and pile in a pretty bowl, as one of my friends did when we met recently for Italian conversation. Accompanied by caffe latte, it was just the right thing to spur verb-retrieving brain cells at 8 a.m. Equally pleasant in the afternoon with tea or a glass of spumante wine. This is the way to go with a higher-end panettone, which is more likely to be moist.

Panettone Toast: Toast panettone slices until golden brown. Spread with butter and perhaps a bit of marmalade or fig preserves.

Panettone French Toast: Cut the bread in thin wedges and soak in your usual mixture of beaten egg and milk. No need for extra seasonings. Fry in melted butter until  nicely browned and serve with maple syrup and fruit salad.

Panettone “Churros”: Cut strips from panettone slices. Dip and fry in the same way as the French toast. Coat with a mixture of sugar and finely grated citrus zest.

 

Wild Salmon in Parchment

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sockeye salmon, ready for wrapping

You can find wild Pacific salmon other times of year, but June into August is really its season. At my two sources in St. Pete–Sammy’s, a wholesale operation with a retail counter and Fresh Market, a local supermarket–the salmon are definitely running.

While the supply lasts, I’m buying wild salmon every week to grill, poach and steam in parchment.

I used to think sockeye salmon (also sold as Copper River salmon) was inferior, perhaps because that’s the kind typically found in a can. But now it’s my favorite salmon species.

Sockeye salmon’s odd name comes from the word suk-kegh, meaning “red fish,” in the language of an obscure indigeous people who lived on rivers in British Columbia. I like the intensely orange-red color sockeye has when raw. But I also love the flavor, more pronounced than the king salmon sold alongside. That’s a matter of taste, however, and many people prefer milder-tasting king salmon.

salmon, wrapped in parchment

I cook wild salmon lots of good ways. Marinated in a dressing of olive oil, mustard, maple syrup and soy, and then grilled with smoky cedar chips. Poached and chilled with a garlicky, herby mayo on the side. And, best of all, this method for steaming salmon under wraps–whether in parchment paper or aluminum foil. The fillets are tucked inside on a bed of couscous, sprinkled with good ingredients found in so many Italian fish recipes–capers, olives, lemons, olive oil, sea salt.  Here’s how to do it.

salmon, unwrapped

 

 

 

 

Print
Wild Salmon in Parchment
Prep Time
20 mins
Cook Time
15 mins
Total Time
35 mins
 
Course: Main Dish, Seafood
Cuisine: American, Italian
Servings: 2 servings
Ingredients
  • 2/3 cup large-grain Israeli couscous also called pearl couscous
  • Extra virgin olive oil
  • 2 teaspoons + 2 teaspoons chopped fresh dill
  • Sea salt
  • Freshly ground black pepper
  • 1 tablespoon + 1 tablespoon chopped fresh dill leaves or snipped chives
  • ¾ pound sockeye salmon or other wild Pacific salmon
  • 1 lemon
  • 8 black oil-cured olives or other Mediterranean olives
  • 1 tablespoon capers preferably salt cured, rinsed well
  • 1 Peppadew pepper cut in slivers (optional)*
Instructions
  1. Combine 1 cup water in a small saucepan. Bring to a boil. Add the couscous and simmer, covered, until tender, about 5 minutes. Cool until warm (the couscous should absorb all the liquid). Gently mix with a drizzle of olive oil, just enough to keep it from sticking, and 2 teaspoons of the dill. Season to taste with salt and pepper.
  2. Preheat the oven to 500°F.  Remove the salmon skin by pushing a sharp knife between the skin and the flesh. Cut in two portions. Sprinkle with salt and pepper. Cut ½ of the lemon in thin slices; squeeze the juice of the remaining lemon half.
  3. Tear off two pieces of parchment paper, each one 18 inches x 13 inches. Draw a large heart on each one with a pencil and cut it out.**
  4. Open one of the hearts and lay it on a baking sheet. Spoon half of the couscous on the right half. Top with a salmon filet. Drizzle with olive oil and half of the lemon juice. Lay half of the lemon slices down the middle. Scatter half of the remaining 2 teaspoons dill, olives, capers and Peppadew pepper (if using) on top. Fold over the left side of the heart and fold/crimp along the edges to close it. Repeat with the remaining heart and ingredients.
  5. Bake for 12 minutes. Serve on dinner plates, allowing the packets to rest for 5 minutes or more (delicious even at room temperature). Open the packets at the table and slide the contents onto plates.
Recipe Notes

* A round red pepper that is piquant in flavor--often found on olive bars. * *Alternatively, tear off an 18-inch piece of heavy aluminum foil. With the shiny side down, layer the couscous, salmon fillets and other ingredients as described above. Draw together the long edges of foil and fold over, crimping to prevent leakage but leaving room inside for heat circulation.

 

Lemon Ricotta Gelato, Made at Home

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lemon ricotta gelato

Researching my Tampa Bay Times article on the best gelato in Florence, Italy, was a good excuse for guilt-free gorging. Now I’m thousands of miles away, consoling myself with my own lemon ricotta gelato.

The idea of making gelato at home occurred to me during an interview with Silvana Vivoli of the renowned gelateria Vivoli. Americans love exotic flavors, but she told me her Florence customers’ top choices are crema, chocolate and strawberry.

Crema? It’s an egg-based custard gelato. The best gelaterias take pride in the honest goodness of their crema–and without masking flavors, lesser gelaterias can’t hide. Sometimes crema is flavored with vanilla or lemon zest, but not necessarily. Crema was the first flavor Silvana’s grandfather made when Vivoli opened during the ’30s.  (Fior di latte is the other pale gelato you’ll see in Italy–the difference is it’s made just with milk and cream, no eggs.)

Could I make crema successfully at home? Silvana shrugged: Sure. Use the best eggs, milk and cream you can get, she advised. And, before freezing the custard, refrigerate it overnight so the flavors mature.

The next decision was how to flavor my gelato. I wanted something different, without straying too far from a straight-out crema. I decided on vanilla and for emphatic lemoniness, both lemon zest and limoncello, the Southern Italian lemon liqueur. And ricotta, because I always enjoy eating ricotta gelato in Italy and rarely find it here, even in Tampa Bay’s top-rated Paciugo, just a three-minute walk from my home.

Making the crema base was a simple matter of “tempering” the beaten eggs by gradually adding the hot liquid and then cooking the mixture until it thickened. While the mixture chilled overnight in the fridge, excess liquid drained off the ricotta, set over a strainer.

The next day I tasted the gelato and–brava, me! Maybe not the best I’ve ever tasted but certainly the best I’ve made, with a deliciously creamy texture that doesn’t turn icy when frozen.

I love the simple goodness of crema and the fact that it goes with anything. If you want to embellish beyond what’s here, soak small-diced dried Mission figs in limoncello before adding to the custard mixture. Or drizzle the gelato with sweetened berry puree or a rich chocolate sauce.

 

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Lemon Ricotta Gelato
Prep Time
20 mins
Cook Time
10 mins
Total Time
30 mins
 
Course: Dessert
Cuisine: Italian
Servings: 1 quarts
Ingredients
  • 4 egg yolks
  • 3/4 cup sugar
  • 1 ½ cups whole milk
  • 1 cup heavy cream
  • 1 teaspoon vanilla
  • 1 to 2 teaspoons grated lemon zest
  • 1 large pinch sea salt
  • 2 tablespoons limoncello liqueur optional
  • 1 cup whole-milk ricotta
Instructions
  1. With a whisk or electric mixer, beat the egg yolks and sugar in a bowl until it reaches a pale yellow, creamy consistency.
  2. In a medium saucepan, heat the milk and cream over medium heat until steaming. Gradually add about ½ cup of the hot liquid to the egg mixture, whisking constantly. Blend into the milk mixture, stirring, and cook for about 5 minutes, or until the custard is thick enough to coat the back of a spoon. Stir in the vanilla, lemon zest, sea salt and limoncello (if using). Cool.
  3. Transfer the custard to a nonreactive container, cover and chill for several hours or overnight. Scrape the ricotta into a small strainer positioned over a bowl. Chill for the same length of time.
  4. Thoroughly mix the drained ricotta into the custard. Freeze until firm in an electric ice cream maker.  Shortly before serving, move to the refrigerator or kitchen counter until soft enough to scoop easily.

Beach Fare: Maltese Tuna Sandwich

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It’s spring break time along Florida’s long coastline. Time to head for the beach, and the rest of the country won’t be far behind. So I’m happily packing beach towels and sunblock along with a couple of the Maltese tuna sandwiches I just learned to make.

I’ve never visited Malta, a tiny group of islands off the southern coast of Sicily. But a private demo in the kitchen of Mary Perry, a long-time Tampa Bay resident who came from Malta, was the next best thing.

“Everyone in Malta knows this beach sandwich,” she said, while spreading bread slices with tomato paste. She pressed them into a pool of olive oil and red wine vinegar, dotted with capers. Then came layers of onion, hard-cooked egg, fresh basil, tuna and cucumber.

Biting into the sandwich, I could taste the same Mediterranean flavors as in Sicily’s beach sandwiches (sometimes made with sardines or eggplant, but often tuna) or southern France’s pan bagnat. But put together in a whole different way.

Later Mary emailed the name of the sandwich: hobz biz-zejt u tadam. Okay, THAT’S a mouthful. If you want to try to say it, know that the z’s have a dot hovering over them (which my blog platform refuses to honor), altering the pronunciation in a way that Mary explained but I completely failed to comprehend. Clearly I won’t be taking up the study of the Maltese language, based on an Arab dialect that developed in Sicily and Malta between the 9th and 12th centuries A.D.

The sandwich name (hobz and so on) refers to crusty bread with olive oil and tomato.  So everything else, including the tuna, is sort of optional. But I’d rather load it all on. You can eat the sandwich right away but I’m thinking it will taste better mixed with salt breezes and a little sand.

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Maltese Tuna Sandwich
Prep Time
15 mins
Total Time
15 mins
 
Servings: 2 servings
Ingredients
  • ¼ cup extra virgin olive oil
  • 1 tablespoon red wine vinegar
  • 1 heaping tablespoon capers rinsed
  • Mrs. Dash seasoning
  • 2 to 3 tablespoons tomato paste
  • 4 large slices white or wholewheat bread
  • Several slices sweet red or white onion
  • 2 hard-boiled eggs sliced
  • Leaves from 2 basil sprigs
  • 1 can tuna, 7 ounces drained
  • 1/2 small cucumber thinly sliced
Instructions
  1. Pour the olive oil on a dinner plate. Sprinkle with the vinegar and scatter the capers over the surface. Sprinkle with Mrs. Dash seasoning. Spread the tomato paste over one side of the bread slices.
  2. Press the tomato paste side of bread slices into the olive oil mixture. If any capers fail to stick, distribute them manually over the surfaces.
  3. On the dressed side of two bread slices, layer the onion slices, eggs, basil leaves, tuna and cucumber. Top with the remaining bread slices.